Working at North Philadelphia Airport

Shortly after I earned my solo ticket, the sheet metal plant where I worked, Lavelle Aircraft, transferred me to North Philadelphia to work as a flight line attendant. Working at North Philly was almost as much fun as flying out of the ‘Port. It was a real kick back job. I enjoyed driving the gas trucks, and being able to fill up my car for free. There was lots of time to taxi and play around with the aircraft and I even learned some basic aircraft mechanical skills.

Working at the ‘Port was a real kickback job. When I worked the day shift, I came in a little before eight in the morning and woke up the graveyard man. I took his place on the bench behind the office back door. The manager came in a little after me and would lay my jacket over me if it was a bit chilly outside. Around eight thirty or so it was time for my first coffee break.

After coffee, I would check out the three gas trucks. The largest truck held one hundred octane aviation fuel, the middle sized truck held ninety-one octane, and the smaller truck held eighty-five octane. I used the smaller truck to fuel the three trucks. As I was fueling each truck, I’d check the oil and water, and give the windshield a quick wash.

After the trucks were all fueled and ready, I’d walk the tie down area making sure that all the tie down ropes were tight and secure. If there were any aircraft not tied down, I’d tie them down and make sure the wheels were chocked. If any aircraft that happened to come in needed fuel, the manager would call me over the loud speaker and I would come in to take the costumer’s order.

Around this time the second man would report for duty and it would be time for my next coffee break. This break would run a little longer as the second man and I had a lot to talk over. Generally we would stay in the coffee shop until the manager called us to fuel an airplane. While the second man watched the flight line, I would take the trucks that needed their holding tanks filled down to the tank farm. Climbing on top of the truck, I would open the port to the holding tank and fill her up from an overhead gas nozzle.

Most pilots who fly for recreation like to sleep late so the ‘Port didn’t start to get busy until after twelve o’clock. I had first lunch, and my partner ate with me some times if things were slow. As the aircraft came in we’d fuel those who needed fuel, check their oil and water, and give the windshields a quick clean. Most of the smaller aircraft took eighty octane fuel, and most pilots would have you top off unless they were on a very short flight.

We would get some larger aircraft in once in awhile. There were some executive aero-commanders, and twin apaches that used our field and we would get an executive DC-3 in once in awhile. We had to climb up on the wings to fuel the DC3’s. We used our ladders to check the engine oil and clean the windshield. The Philadelphia Bulletin kept a converted Lockheed Lodestar at our ‘Port. Before they went out for a flight they call us to fuel her. From the very first I was told to fill my car after I fueled the Lodestar and add the fuel that I put in to the bill. This served as a tip for the line boys.

Bill Levitt, the builder of Levittown, kept a converted DC-3 at our airport. His pilot and crew thought of themselves as really special. They gave no tips and demanded quick service. Several other executives based their twin-engine aircraft at our airport. We had to help hanger them at times, and help get them out to the taxi strips also.

When it was raining and visibility went below a certain level, the ‘Port was closed to all but aircraft except those that flew by instrument. At these times we would hang out at the coffee shop, or get a poker game going in the little shack outside where we stored motor oil and tie down ropes. Some times when it looked as if we would be closed all day, the line boys would have to go down to the maintenance hanger and help wash or polish a plane, or help with some minor repair usually on tires.

I preferred working day shift so I could have my nights free, but every once in awhile I had to pull a week or two on swing shift or graveyard. On swing things got really slow after dark, there were some planes to tie down and top off. And from time to time there was work in the maintenance hanger, like washing and waxing a plane or working on a tire change. We line boys also did a lot of the work when a pane had to have new fabric put on it. Putting on new fabric was very time consuming and we usually spent two or three hours a night on the job. Most of my after eight time I spent listening to jazz on the radio. It was at the ‘Port that I got my introduction to jazz. If an aircraft did happen to land after dork I would be there to service it.

Things got a little harder after Lavelle quit as base operator six months or so after I started working at North Philly. (I found our later that they had taken over as base operator for a tax right off.) The new base operator Ross Aviation was committed to making the operation more efficient. The new manager let us know that we were to greet aircraft as they came off the taxi strip and ask the pilots what we could do for them. We were to chock the wheels as soon as the engine stopped, and wait for orders from the pilot. When the aircraft was ready to leave, we were to pull chocks and wave the aircraft off.

The new base operator generated a lot more business and we worked at a little faster pace, but the job was still fun. Ross brought in rental cars and part of our job now was to keep them fueled and looking good. Still the pleasure I got from driving a brand new car around more than made up for the little extra work. When things got real slow, we had to make new tie down ropes, put in anchors to create new tie down spots, and replace old tie down ropes. I was working outside, enjoying the sun, and taking my time doing things.

I remember one instance when I was heading out to tie down an aircraft at the other end of the apron I pause at the gate to light up a smoke. “I thought there was no smoking on the other side of the gate,” a flight instructor told me trying to get my goat.

“That only applies to non-working employees,” I said and took a deep drag.

“Boy, you own the other side of the fence, don’t you,” he replied shaking his head. I really thought that I did own the flight line back in those days.

After a year or so with the new base operator, the manager told me there was an opening for an apprentice aircraft-mechanic in the maintenance department, and since I had been doing a really good job on the flight line, he offered it to me. I felt like it was a move up in the job world, and I would get something like twenty cents an hour more, so I took it.

I wasn’t very mechanical, and I learned the art of aircraft mechanics very slowly. I mostly worked on changing tires, changing spark plugs, and putting on new fabric. I was very closely supervised by the licensed mechanics when I helped with more complicated maintenance. I remember my best friend’s dad saying, “You mean to tell me that they actually fly in those planes after you work on them?”

All of the other mechanics had big toolboxes filled with hundreds of dollars worth of tools. When the tool guy came around each month, they added to their supply of tools. Whenever I did any work I had to borrow a tool from one of the mechanics. After six months or so, the head mechanic saw that I wasn’t buying any tools and was progressing very slowly. He asked me if I wouldn’t like to transfer back to the flight line. By this time, I had lost interest in flying and felt that going back to the flight line would be a demotion for me. To save pride and to earn a lot more money that I needed to finance an up coming trip to Alaska, I quit my job at North Philadelphia Airport and took a job selling encyclopedias.