A work of creative nonfiction written by Julia Mist D'June ~ 15 December 2024
“How did I become a pilot?” Ken lets the question seep beneath his oil-soaked memories. “I wanted to work on airplanes that were loud and obnoxious, so I got a job working at Everts as a mechanic helper.”
Ken was assigned the nightshift working with a group of surly faced men. In Fairbanks Alaska this meant wrenching on frozen metal outside during unfriendly temperatures and the impenetrable icefog of January. Working inside the grubby old Wien hangar was just as miserable. The Quonset hut style building was poorly insulated. The light from the arc-sodium bulbs, hung high on the ceiling, barely penetrated down to the greasy concrete floor. Working in these conditions would even make the Pope ill-tempered. There was a runway light aglow being on the nightshift with these grouchy veteran mechanics, it meant Ken could attend the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Aviation Maintenance Program; during the daylight hours, slim as they are at this latitude in the winter. Airframe & Powerplant (A&P) endorsements in his pocket meant an upgrade from helper to licensed airplane mechanic. Plus, a chance for a shift in both hours and hopefully temperament of coworkers.
Everts Air Cargo’s primary fleet of aircraft consisted of the Douglas DC-6. There were approximately 100 DC-6’s in service around the world in 2003 (Douglas DC-6) and Ken was wrenching on a fair share of these old birds. Life as a line mechanic is a tiresome task. Dirt, grime, and the incessant dripping of oil. “The only way not to have oil running down your arms is to be on top pouring oil into the engine.” Topping off the oil, hydraulic and ADI fluids are part of pre-flighting the planes for the next morning. Putting snow shoe pans on the bottom of the engine cowlings to catch the seeping syrupy oil before it can get to the tarmac. Throwing industrial insulated blankets over the engines and setting up the Herman Nelson heaters. Plus, checking the logbook for squawks from the flight crew are part of the nightly routine.
“You'd think you're on easy street for the shift with a chance to work in the fairly clean engine shop, safety-wiring pin-caps. Then the last plane out would come back with an engine shutdown,” Ken shifts uncomfortably. Shutting down an engine inflight is self-preservation for the crew. The engine analyzer combustion pattern might be indicating more than a failing cylinder. The vibration through the wing could be a broken piston rod, which means the engine is about to eat its own lunch. Best to shut it down, feather the propeller, three engine ferry home than have a 3,600-pound boat anchor clinging to the wing.
“Most times it's a cylinder change. Can't be an easy change like #4. Nope. It has to be #9.” The bottom end of the back of the engine. A giant metal puzzle to take apart and get back together, just so. It means removing all the exhaust pipes for the forward lower cylinders and a good number of the intake pipes. To the way back of the blower section and their Y-pipes. Tedious work requiring diligent attention to bolt torque and no leftover parts.
The Six is a powerful beast. The four Pratt & Whitney R2800 Double Wasp radial engines, 72 cylinders and pistons, 144 sparkplugs are in fact loud and obnoxious. The rumbling and churning of these apex piston-engines (Platoni) saturate the air as they pull 100-thousand pounds of airframe, fuel, and payload towards its destination. In a fury of snarling engines, the Six negotiates with the wind for dominance. The sensation of being at the end of the runway as a DC-6 flies overhead, is like a freight train roaring through the crossing at full speed. The wind hiccups around your face, your ears momentarily collapse unto themselves. You hear nothing but the whooshing roar of raw rhythmic power.
Over the years the DC-6 has outflown their radial engine competitors of the 1950’s. Leaving Lockheed’s triple-tail Constellation, as well as her big sister the DC-7 at the end of the runway. The Douglas Aircraft Company built 704 DC-6’s for civilian and military use between 1946 and 1958 (Boeing). The rise of the jet engine airplanes in the early 1960s set the history pin for the radial engine era, yet the DC-6 found a foothold in Alaska. The agility of the Six and availability of the airframes in the 70’s was the catalyst for their congregation in the state. The Six is well matched for Alaska's remote short field gravel airstrips which accounts for approximately 80 percent of the state maintained public runways. The relatively low elevation of Alaska means there’s not much need to fly above 10,000 feet. Any higher than this the crews need auxiliary oxygen to remain conscious. In Alaska the Six is “capable of doing what other planes can’t” (Foley). She is gritty and determined.
Everts Six’s have been transformed into cargo or fuel haulers. The passenger seats yarded out and heaped in piles in the boneyard. The pressurization system removed adding more usable weight for payload. Long gone are the drinks served in glasses with a cherry neatly skewered on cocktail sticks. Those seeking the glamour of flying in the 1950’s overlooked the occasional puff of smoke billowing out of the engines when the cylinders finally ignited. The passengers disregarded the vibrations traveling through the fuselage during the pre-flight run-ups. They after all were onboard the “most modern dependable air transport” of the day (Saturday Evening Post). Gone are the swanky flights aboard the DC-6, or so nostalgia says.
The glamour and highfalutin reminiscence didn’t matter a hoot to Ken. He’d arrived in Alaska from up-state New York with a duffle bag of belongings and $100 his grandfather gave him in his pocket. A steady job and the new opportunities that lay ahead of him were fancy enough. Ken didn’t have a plan when he boarded the plane on Thanksgiving Day as the new century began. What he did know was he couldn’t stay. When his notion of attending tractor trailer driving school, as a way of pulling himself towards a better life, didn’t come to fruition, he felt there wasn’t anything left to lose. Arriving in Fairbanks a job in aviation was the farthest thing from his mind. But the classified ad for a cargo handler at Frontier Flying Service paid better than most jobs back home. Anyone working on the west ramp at the airport quickly becomes familiar with the obnoxious sound of the DC-6 as it slogs through the air, dripping oil, gaining altitude only as the curvature of the earth falls away on takeoff. Ken set in motion a plan that led farther than he ever expected.
Two years working as a mechanic helper and two years as a licensed A&P mechanic the job began to edge towards monotonous and Ken’s eyes started to turn skyward. After several familiarization ride-along flights another spark ignited leading Ken to secure the flight engineer’s seat. The Six is a three-man crew, captain, first officer (FO), and flight engineer (FE). The FE’s primary job is to start the four powerhouse R2800 radial engines and monitor them throughout the flight. Ken’s mechanic training was a boon for him as a member of the flight crew, other FE’s were pilots who were only in the seat to abide their time till they could upgrade to FO. Licensed pilots could train to be FE’s without A&P certificates but they didn’t have the authority, let alone the skills, to perform field repairs. Ken flew with a hefty tool box and mechanic tricks in his vest pocket. There were times when the mechanical malfunctions were a quick Current Limiter change. Other times the plane and crew had to overnight in a village, where cantankerous moods spread quickly as they waited for additional parts to be flown in by another air carrier.
Starting the R2800 engines takes skill, practice, and an acceptance that they don’t always behave with good manners. Cowl flaps open, prime the engine with a small amount of 100-low-lead fuel into the cylinders, and start turning the engine over. 3-6-9-12; the propeller rotations count up as the starter motor is engaged. If the fuel to air mixture is spot on and the spark plugs lively, the engine will ignite with relative ease. Manifold pressure, RPM, and cylinder head temperatures are monitored. If a gauge needle appears sluggish or dancing it could indicate that something isn’t quite right. Tap-tap-tap, the flight engineer gives the glass face of the gauge the old Everts salute. The gauge responds, yup, all good. From the FE’s seat behind the throttles and radios the view of the engines is obscured by the bulkhead so they rely on the captain and FO to count the propeller revolution and have an attentive eye for a possible engine fire.
“A thousand hours in the waffle seat was enough time to subdue the objectionable engines without a backfire one, and master the language of the engine analyzer. And I thought if these jokers can fly this plane, hell I can too.” Ken smirks. “Don’t get me wrong, these jokers had amassed thousands of hours, some even documented in their logbooks. Sam flew for Air America in the 1970’s in Southeast Asia and had some amazing stories to tell.” Sam passed away last year and it doesn’t seem fitting to tell his stories for him. Plus, he’d emphatically deny any part of those stories, with a wink of course.
“And Bob, he knows the six inside and out. He’d drill the new first officers during check-rides on where the brazier head rivets are located – who cares about that Bob – you’re the only one – although others would have to learn it just the same.” Once again Ken’s A&P certificates gave him an edge, especially compared to the Embry Riddle flyers looking to build flight time. The brazier head rivets on the DC-6 are a different style from the others around them. They identify the points on the bottom of the airframe where level is measured for weight and balance. Totally a maintenance concern and has nothing to do with piloting. Bob’s training methods for pilots new to the DC-6, tedious as it is, inevitably led to a better understanding of the airplane. And when the DC-6 was going on a lunch break the crews were prepared with the correct check-list in hand, identifying solutions for a safe landing.
In May of 2009, after a year and a half working to gain the required pilot licenses and endorsements, Ken passed his FO check-ride and switched to the right seat in the DC-6. At this time, it was estimated there were about 15 DC-6’s still flying, mostly in Alaska as cargo planes (Platoni). Time was running thin for the Six and perhaps Ken’s newly minted aviation career.
“Engine fires on start-up happen more often than you might think, especially to the pilots masquerading as the flight engineer.” Now in the FO seat Ken’s job is to monitor number 3 & 4 engines while the new guy, Tom, gets the show on the road. “Three. Six. Nine. Twelve. You’re on fire! Keep turning – you’re pissing fuel – the piss is on fire – you might want to get that thing going!” Voomph-pow-voo-whoomph-pow-pop! A cloud of black smoke momentarily engulfs the cowling as the #3 engine roars to life.
“About time. I thought you knew what you were doing?” Ken smacks a smart-ass grin back towards Tom in the FE seat.
“Ken, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do my job!”
“Yeah, if you do it right I would,” Ken’s sarcastic tongue gives another smack.
Bob bellows from the captain seat, “Ken, don’t pick on him, he’s just a boy!”
Tom admits he was capital-G green and scared shitless. His Embry Riddle training never prepared him for a job as flight engineer on the DC-6 flying around Alaska. Where winter time ops required sweeping the snow and frost off the wings, fueling the plane, or unloading a hand stacked pile of mattresses when they got to their destination. This was certainly not in the pilot job description.
Ken on the other hand, knew all too well the job description; of a cargo loader, mechanic, flight engineer, and pilot. By the time the seasoned aviators began to age-out, being forced to retire from FAA Part 121 cargo flying, Ken was well prepared to take the helm as captain. Some of these retired jokers took up flight training full time, attempting to teach the young crowd the skill of hand flying down to minimums and crabbing into a cross-wind landing. Some switched to the fuel hauling side of the business where the FAA Part 125 regulations don’t have a strict retirement age. And some packed up and moved south to Monroe Oregon, Chino California, and Belize. A few are still at the hangar, exchanging stories, and getting together at the local diner for beans on Tuesday.
The grit of determination that brought Ken to Alaska gave him the courage to realize he was going to be a pilot longer than the DC-6 was going to be flying. It was time to modernize his logbook, jet planes after all are the future of aviation. The day Alaska Airlines said yes, Ken knew the young man who left New York would think it was wholly a tall tale. When he left Everts Air Cargo his logbook reflected over 7,500 hours in the DC-6. Today piloting the Boeing 737 has indeed surpassed expectations. As for the Six, she still pulls her way around the skies above Alaska. A toothless clawless beast. A provider of food, building materials, and fuel to the villages. Everything a person could need from the outside, this mighty plane delivers. For now.
Today, Everts Air Cargo has 12 remaining registered Douglas DC-6’s and with the growing scarcity of parts and viable airframes, the question of how much longer lingers. Her approaching sound as a life-line in the bush is diminishing, her bones settling into the earth it once had dominion over. The Douglas DC-6 is a world class airplane delivering its promises, and for over sixty years her fuel tanks and cargo holds are stuffed to the gills, flying in Alaska on lifted time.
Work cited
Adams, Kenneth*. Personal interview with author. 8 November 2024 and 20 November 2024.
Alaska DOT. “Alaska’s Runways Keeping Alaskans Connected.” Alaska Department of Transportation & Public Facilities, 2017, dot.alaska.gov/documents/aviation/Plane_Talk_spring2017.pdf. Accessed 11 Dec. 2024.
Appleton, Thomas*. Personal interview with author. 20 November 2024.
Boeing Company. “Select Products in Boeing History.” Boeing, www.boeing.com/content/dam/boeing/boeingdotcom/history/pdf/Boeing_Products.pdf. Accessed 22 Nov. 2024.
“Douglas DC-6.” Airliners.Net, www.airliners.net/aircraft-data/douglas-dc-6/190. Accessed 23 Nov. 2024.
“FAA Registry.” Aircraft Inquiry, registry.faa.gov/aircraftinquiry. Accessed 24 Nov. 2024.
Foley, Ian. “Flying through History: Rare Planes Continue to Fly Alaska Skies.” Peninsula Clarion, Peninsula Clarion, 18 Jan. 2015, www.peninsulaclarion.com/news/flying-through-history-rare-planes-continue-to-fly-alaska-skies/.
Platoni, Kara. “The Six.” Smithsonian.Com, Smithsonian Institution, 1 July 2009, www.smithsonianmag.com/air-space-magazine/the-six-136034182/. Accessed 20 Nov. 2024.
Saturday Evening Post, The. Douglas Aircraft Company, Inc. 19 Jun. 1949. Accessed 23 Nov. 2024
...
“How did I become a pilot?” Ken lets the question seep beneath his oil-soaked memories. “I wanted to work on airplanes that were loud and obnoxious, so I got a job working at Everts as a mechanic helper.”
Ken was assigned the nightshift working with a group of surly faced men. In Fairbanks Alaska this meant wrenching on frozen metal outside during unfriendly temperatures and the impenetrable icefog of January. Working inside the grubby old Wien hangar was just as miserable. The Quonset hut style building was poorly insulated. The light from the arc-sodium bulbs, hung high on the ceiling, barely penetrated down to the greasy concrete floor. Working in these conditions would even make the Pope ill-tempered. There was a runway light aglow being on the nightshift with these grouchy veteran mechanics, it meant Ken could attend the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Aviation Maintenance Program; during the daylight hours, slim as they are at this latitude in the winter. Airframe & Powerplant (A&P) endorsements in his pocket meant an upgrade from helper to licensed airplane mechanic. Plus, a chance for a shift in both hours and hopefully temperament of coworkers.
Everts Air Cargo’s primary fleet of aircraft consisted of the Douglas DC-6. There were approximately 100 DC-6’s in service around the world in 2003 (Douglas DC-6) and Ken was wrenching on a fair share of these old birds. Life as a line mechanic is a tiresome task. Dirt, grime, and the incessant dripping of oil. “The only way not to have oil running down your arms is to be on top pouring oil into the engine.” Topping off the oil, hydraulic and ADI fluids are part of pre-flighting the planes for the next morning. Putting snow shoe pans on the bottom of the engine cowlings to catch the seeping syrupy oil before it can get to the tarmac. Throwing industrial insulated blankets over the engines and setting up the Herman Nelson heaters. Plus, checking the logbook for squawks from the flight crew are part of the nightly routine.
“You'd think you're on easy street for the shift with a chance to work in the fairly clean engine shop, safety-wiring pin-caps. Then the last plane out would come back with an engine shutdown,” Ken shifts uncomfortably. Shutting down an engine inflight is self-preservation for the crew. The engine analyzer combustion pattern might be indicating more than a failing cylinder. The vibration through the wing could be a broken piston rod, which means the engine is about to eat its own lunch. Best to shut it down, feather the propeller, three engine ferry home than have a 3,600-pound boat anchor clinging to the wing.
“Most times it's a cylinder change. Can't be an easy change like #4. Nope. It has to be #9.” The bottom end of the back of the engine. A giant metal puzzle to take apart and get back together, just so. It means removing all the exhaust pipes for the forward lower cylinders and a good number of the intake pipes. To the way back of the blower section and their Y-pipes. Tedious work requiring diligent attention to bolt torque and no leftover parts.
The Six is a powerful beast. The four Pratt & Whitney R2800 Double Wasp radial engines, 72 cylinders and pistons, 144 sparkplugs are in fact loud and obnoxious. The rumbling and churning of these apex piston-engines (Platoni) saturate the air as they pull 100-thousand pounds of airframe, fuel, and payload towards its destination. In a fury of snarling engines, the Six negotiates with the wind for dominance. The sensation of being at the end of the runway as a DC-6 flies overhead, is like a freight train roaring through the crossing at full speed. The wind hiccups around your face, your ears momentarily collapse unto themselves. You hear nothing but the whooshing roar of raw rhythmic power.
Over the years the DC-6 has outflown their radial engine competitors of the 1950’s. Leaving Lockheed’s triple-tail Constellation, as well as her big sister the DC-7 at the end of the runway. The Douglas Aircraft Company built 704 DC-6’s for civilian and military use between 1946 and 1958 (Boeing). The rise of the jet engine airplanes in the early 1960s set the history pin for the radial engine era, yet the DC-6 found a foothold in Alaska. The agility of the Six and availability of the airframes in the 70’s was the catalyst for their congregation in the state. The Six is well matched for Alaska's remote short field gravel airstrips which accounts for approximately 80 percent of the state maintained public runways. The relatively low elevation of Alaska means there’s not much need to fly above 10,000 feet. Any higher than this the crews need auxiliary oxygen to remain conscious. In Alaska the Six is “capable of doing what other planes can’t” (Foley). She is gritty and determined.
Everts Six’s have been transformed into cargo or fuel haulers. The passenger seats yarded out and heaped in piles in the boneyard. The pressurization system removed adding more usable weight for payload. Long gone are the drinks served in glasses with a cherry neatly skewered on cocktail sticks. Those seeking the glamour of flying in the 1950’s overlooked the occasional puff of smoke billowing out of the engines when the cylinders finally ignited. The passengers disregarded the vibrations traveling through the fuselage during the pre-flight run-ups. They after all were onboard the “most modern dependable air transport” of the day (Saturday Evening Post). Gone are the swanky flights aboard the DC-6, or so nostalgia says.
The glamour and highfalutin reminiscence didn’t matter a hoot to Ken. He’d arrived in Alaska from up-state New York with a duffle bag of belongings and $100 his grandfather gave him in his pocket. A steady job and the new opportunities that lay ahead of him were fancy enough. Ken didn’t have a plan when he boarded the plane on Thanksgiving Day as the new century began. What he did know was he couldn’t stay. When his notion of attending tractor trailer driving school, as a way of pulling himself towards a better life, didn’t come to fruition, he felt there wasn’t anything left to lose. Arriving in Fairbanks a job in aviation was the farthest thing from his mind. But the classified ad for a cargo handler at Frontier Flying Service paid better than most jobs back home. Anyone working on the west ramp at the airport quickly becomes familiar with the obnoxious sound of the DC-6 as it slogs through the air, dripping oil, gaining altitude only as the curvature of the earth falls away on takeoff. Ken set in motion a plan that led farther than he ever expected.
Two years working as a mechanic helper and two years as a licensed A&P mechanic the job began to edge towards monotonous and Ken’s eyes started to turn skyward. After several familiarization ride-along flights another spark ignited leading Ken to secure the flight engineer’s seat. The Six is a three-man crew, captain, first officer (FO), and flight engineer (FE). The FE’s primary job is to start the four powerhouse R2800 radial engines and monitor them throughout the flight. Ken’s mechanic training was a boon for him as a member of the flight crew, other FE’s were pilots who were only in the seat to abide their time till they could upgrade to FO. Licensed pilots could train to be FE’s without A&P certificates but they didn’t have the authority, let alone the skills, to perform field repairs. Ken flew with a hefty tool box and mechanic tricks in his vest pocket. There were times when the mechanical malfunctions were a quick Current Limiter change. Other times the plane and crew had to overnight in a village, where cantankerous moods spread quickly as they waited for additional parts to be flown in by another air carrier.
Starting the R2800 engines takes skill, practice, and an acceptance that they don’t always behave with good manners. Cowl flaps open, prime the engine with a small amount of 100-low-lead fuel into the cylinders, and start turning the engine over. 3-6-9-12; the propeller rotations count up as the starter motor is engaged. If the fuel to air mixture is spot on and the spark plugs lively, the engine will ignite with relative ease. Manifold pressure, RPM, and cylinder head temperatures are monitored. If a gauge needle appears sluggish or dancing it could indicate that something isn’t quite right. Tap-tap-tap, the flight engineer gives the glass face of the gauge the old Everts salute. The gauge responds, yup, all good. From the FE’s seat behind the throttles and radios the view of the engines is obscured by the bulkhead so they rely on the captain and FO to count the propeller revolution and have an attentive eye for a possible engine fire.
“A thousand hours in the waffle seat was enough time to subdue the objectionable engines without a backfire one, and master the language of the engine analyzer. And I thought if these jokers can fly this plane, hell I can too.” Ken smirks. “Don’t get me wrong, these jokers had amassed thousands of hours, some even documented in their logbooks. Sam flew for Air America in the 1970’s in Southeast Asia and had some amazing stories to tell.” Sam passed away last year and it doesn’t seem fitting to tell his stories for him. Plus, he’d emphatically deny any part of those stories, with a wink of course.
“And Bob, he knows the six inside and out. He’d drill the new first officers during check-rides on where the brazier head rivets are located – who cares about that Bob – you’re the only one – although others would have to learn it just the same.” Once again Ken’s A&P certificates gave him an edge, especially compared to the Embry Riddle flyers looking to build flight time. The brazier head rivets on the DC-6 are a different style from the others around them. They identify the points on the bottom of the airframe where level is measured for weight and balance. Totally a maintenance concern and has nothing to do with piloting. Bob’s training methods for pilots new to the DC-6, tedious as it is, inevitably led to a better understanding of the airplane. And when the DC-6 was going on a lunch break the crews were prepared with the correct check-list in hand, identifying solutions for a safe landing.
In May of 2009, after a year and a half working to gain the required pilot licenses and endorsements, Ken passed his FO check-ride and switched to the right seat in the DC-6. At this time, it was estimated there were about 15 DC-6’s still flying, mostly in Alaska as cargo planes (Platoni). Time was running thin for the Six and perhaps Ken’s newly minted aviation career.
“Engine fires on start-up happen more often than you might think, especially to the pilots masquerading as the flight engineer.” Now in the FO seat Ken’s job is to monitor number 3 & 4 engines while the new guy, Tom, gets the show on the road. “Three. Six. Nine. Twelve. You’re on fire! Keep turning – you’re pissing fuel – the piss is on fire – you might want to get that thing going!” Voomph-pow-voo-whoomph-pow-pop! A cloud of black smoke momentarily engulfs the cowling as the #3 engine roars to life.
“About time. I thought you knew what you were doing?” Ken smacks a smart-ass grin back towards Tom in the FE seat.
“Ken, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do my job!”
“Yeah, if you do it right I would,” Ken’s sarcastic tongue gives another smack.
Bob bellows from the captain seat, “Ken, don’t pick on him, he’s just a boy!”
Tom admits he was capital-G green and scared shitless. His Embry Riddle training never prepared him for a job as flight engineer on the DC-6 flying around Alaska. Where winter time ops required sweeping the snow and frost off the wings, fueling the plane, or unloading a hand stacked pile of mattresses when they got to their destination. This was certainly not in the pilot job description.
Ken on the other hand, knew all too well the job description; of a cargo loader, mechanic, flight engineer, and pilot. By the time the seasoned aviators began to age-out, being forced to retire from FAA Part 121 cargo flying, Ken was well prepared to take the helm as captain. Some of these retired jokers took up flight training full time, attempting to teach the young crowd the skill of hand flying down to minimums and crabbing into a cross-wind landing. Some switched to the fuel hauling side of the business where the FAA Part 125 regulations don’t have a strict retirement age. And some packed up and moved south to Monroe Oregon, Chino California, and Belize. A few are still at the hangar, exchanging stories, and getting together at the local diner for beans on Tuesday.
The grit of determination that brought Ken to Alaska gave him the courage to realize he was going to be a pilot longer than the DC-6 was going to be flying. It was time to modernize his logbook, jet planes after all are the future of aviation. The day Alaska Airlines said yes, Ken knew the young man who left New York would think it was wholly a tall tale. When he left Everts Air Cargo his logbook reflected over 7,500 hours in the DC-6. Today piloting the Boeing 737 has indeed surpassed expectations. As for the Six, she still pulls her way around the skies above Alaska. A toothless clawless beast. A provider of food, building materials, and fuel to the villages. Everything a person could need from the outside, this mighty plane delivers. For now.
Today, Everts Air Cargo has 12 remaining registered Douglas DC-6’s and with the growing scarcity of parts and viable airframes, the question of how much longer lingers. Her approaching sound as a life-line in the bush is diminishing, her bones settling into the earth it once had dominion over. The Douglas DC-6 is a world class airplane delivering its promises, and for over sixty years her fuel tanks and cargo holds are stuffed to the gills, flying in Alaska on lifted time.
...
Adams, Kenneth*. Personal interview with author. 8 November 2024 and 20 November 2024.
Alaska DOT. “Alaska’s Runways Keeping Alaskans Connected.” Alaska Department of Transportation & Public Facilities, 2017, dot.alaska.gov/documents/aviation/Plane_Talk_spring2017.pdf. Accessed 11 Dec. 2024.
Appleton, Thomas*. Personal interview with author. 20 November 2024.
Boeing Company. “Select Products in Boeing History.” Boeing, www.boeing.com/content/dam/boeing/boeingdotcom/history/pdf/Boeing_Products.pdf. Accessed 22 Nov. 2024.
“Douglas DC-6.” Airliners.Net, www.airliners.net/aircraft-data/douglas-dc-6/190. Accessed 23 Nov. 2024.
“FAA Registry.” Aircraft Inquiry, registry.faa.gov/aircraftinquiry. Accessed 24 Nov. 2024.
Foley, Ian. “Flying through History: Rare Planes Continue to Fly Alaska Skies.” Peninsula Clarion, Peninsula Clarion, 18 Jan. 2015, www.peninsulaclarion.com/news/flying-through-history-rare-planes-continue-to-fly-alaska-skies/.
Platoni, Kara. “The Six.” Smithsonian.Com, Smithsonian Institution, 1 July 2009, www.smithsonianmag.com/air-space-magazine/the-six-136034182/. Accessed 20 Nov. 2024.
Saturday Evening Post, The. Douglas Aircraft Company, Inc. 19 Jun. 1949. Accessed 23 Nov. 2024
*Pseudonyms at the request of the persons in the narrative.
