Dear Garrett..

My story of becoming an Aviator is incredible. It happened fast and miraculously. I am amazed when I look back on how it all happened.

Leaving the SFO Airport it was back to everyday life which since the age of twelve consisted of basic survival. I still had another semester to go to complete High School. I didn’t really attend High School to learn anything — I attended simply to complete it and get a diploma.

I received two graduation gifts when I graduated from High School. The first gift came from my girlfriend when she told me she didn’t want us to go together anymore.

Still operating in a basic survival mode, it was imperative that I secure another job following my dismissal from the pharmacy.  My dream to become an Aviator was still in my mind though it had been heavily obscured by said need of basic survival. 

With Tom’s training, I did learn to fly an airplane and it became time for me to solo which means to fly alone without an instructor in the airplane.  I felt surprised when Tom got out of the airplane and told me to do some takeoffs and landings by myself.

Following my first solo flight, I had flown seven more solo flights when my instructor announced to me that it was time to begin my cross-country flight training.  Tom said, “It’s time to begin your cross-country flight training — where would you like to go on your first cross-country?”

Like everyone, we have our bad days.  One of my worst was about to happen.  My solo cross-countries had gone extraordinarily well.  Six days following my second solo cross-country the unimaginable would happen.

As the reality of that very bad day settled in and I arrived at my very disappointing and temporary home, the spinning in my head began to transition from spinning and disorientation to resolve. The resolve for the moment became, “I need to get another job.”

Kaydell Angus Farm was not my first experience with farming and ranching.  After beginning my eighth grade year in school in Michigan, we moved to Lake Bistineau near Shreveport, Louisiana.  Shortly after arriving in Louisiana, I found a job on a dairy in Ringgold.  I was hired as a hand on the Jersey Gold Dairy.

I loved our new farm in Texas. The 122 acres came equipped so all we had to do was start farming. We had a ford tractor with all the implements. We had a tractor barn and a hay barn — a chicken house, a smoke house, and a grain storage building. We had a house to live in also. 

In the midst of the chaos and danger intensifying in our family with this new negro man moving into our home, I was able to graduate successfully from the Elm Creek School eighth grade class.  I enjoyed attending Elm Creek School.  It was a four-room school house in the country located between our farm and the town of Seguin.

Though I liked my job on the Kaydell Angus Farm in Watsonville, the call to fly professionally occupied my heart and mind. While doing my herdsman chores on the farm, I’d notice the DC-6 and Boeing 727 aircraft flying overhead. Seeing the aircraft flying along their flight paths between the Monterey and San Francisco Airports eventually encouraged me to train for my Private Pilot Certificate again.

The sun was shining brightly when I arrived at the Watsonville, California Municipal Airport. I found a parking spot in front of a WWII Quonset hut. The round-topped building was dwarfed in size by the large, wooden hangar standing to its right. To the left of the Quonset hut and across the parking lot was the white-painted wooden airport operations building. Behind the operations building was an abandoned air traffic control tower.

Though it was not explained to me, I had the impression that Watsonville Aviation Service was owned by three partners, Darrell Freeman, Pat Carroll and Stephen Wells Canty (Steve). The business also held another entity called Monterey Bay Flight Academy. Depending on what I was doing, I was either working for Watsonville Aviation Service or Monterey Bay Flight Academy on any given day.

In spite of my youth and limited aviation experience and ability, Freeman seemed to see something in me worth investing in. I went back to talk with Freeman when I arrived at work one morning a few days after beginning my job. Freeman was standing at a bench working on an aircraft component repair. He looked up when I walked up to the work bench and greeted me. His greeting was warm. It felt good.

A lot of what I would come to learn about flying professionally occurred rapidly over the next several months. I flew everyday, often multiple flights per day. In between my flying, I stayed busy handling my other assigned duties.

A lot of what I would be learning about flying and life at ages 20 and 21 would occur in a neighborhood bar called Nate’s. Nate’s was the closest bar to the Watsonville Airport. I thought it was the coolest one around too.

Things were really going well the first few months into my first flying job. I stayed busy flying a lot, keeping the company airplanes super clean and attending to our customers. One of ours clients was Charles P. Sambrailo.

My life felt like it was back on course now that I had my flying job back. In addition to flying a lot and spending my evenings at Nate’s with my aviation mentors and work colleagues, I managed to find time to enjoy some female companionship.

Within a week after receiving my Commercial Pilot Certificate, I began flying the prisoner transports for the Santa Cruz County Sheriff Department. On each transport, I either picked up a prisoner in Santa Cruz County and fly them to a designated prison somewhere in the state of California – or I would pick up a prisoner at one of several California prisons or jails and fly them back to Santa Cruz County.

“I’m from the FAA and I’m Here to Help You…”
The flight from Watsonville to Santa Cruz was short – about twenty miles. When the Santa Cruz deputies didn’t bring the prisoners to me at the Watsonville Airport, I would fly to the Santa Cruz Skypark Airport to pick them up.

“It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind, 
That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.
And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate of the blessed.” 
Kahlill Gibran, On Crime and Punishment.

Although the prisoner transport flights kept me plenty busy over the next year, they didn’t consume all my time. When I wasn’t flying prisoners, other opportunities showed up to occupy my waking hours – and sleeping hours too!

It wasn’t that I was lacking for worthy activities to keep me busy. Between my prisoner and company flying, Nate’s and Jennifer, I managed to find time to work on the additional training required to earn my next FAA pilot certification credential, my CFI (Certificated Flight Instructor).

Another big day had arrived two days following my 21st birthday. Less than a year after receiving my first pilot license, I reported to the Oakland, California GADO for my Flight Instructor Certification checkride. All FAA checkrides test the strength of your nervous system. The Initial Flight Instructor Certification checkride was especially known to do so. Close to 50% of Initial Flight Instructor applicants are typically denied the Flight Instructor Certification on their first attempt at the rigorous qualification checkride.

Another routine prisoner transport wasn’t a big deal until I checked in with the prison official at Sacramento. The call came in mid morning to pick up a woman prisoner in Sacramento and fly her to Santa Cruz County. I thought, “A simple flight out to Sacramento and back to Watsonville…great…easy trip.”

I rarely heard why I was transporting a particular prisoner. I could have asked the deputies and guards that handed them over to me if I had wanted to know. It was probably best that I didn’t know because, when I did know, I would think about that person a lot throughout the flight wondering what motivated them to get into the predicaments that earned them their prison sentences.