HEATH STORIES Supplement #2 HEATH STORIES #30 AS I REMEMBER IT I first met Howard and Helen Anthony in early June of 1939. Together with three other former employees of Arrow Aircraft, we had come to Michigan to design and build a new aircraft to be powered by a 100 hp Mercury engine, built by the Mercury division of Ford Motor Co. The backer of the project, Dave Bailey of Battle Creek, wanted it to be in Michigan, but not in or near Battle Creek. And close enough to Chicago so that, if necessary, a trip to and from Chicago could be accomplished in one day. I knew of the Heath Company and suggested that Dave contact them with the idea of renting some space from them, which suggestion he took and arranged to use some of their space. Heath at that time had approx. 3000 sq.ft. in the Baker-Vawter bulding at Fourth and Park in Benton Harbor. I never did know what the arrangements (rent, utilities, etc.) were between Dave and Howard. But I have often wondered what would have happened to the Anthony's, if we had not come to Benton Harbor. At that time Heath, or perhaps I should say, the Anthony's, were just squeaking by, selling a few Heath kits for the Heath CenterWing and Parasol planes. I know at times they didn't have enough to eat. I was never told directly how they came to acquire Heath, after Eddie Heath was killed, when he crashed in the very speedy plane, the Baby Bullet, 130 mph with a 30 hp engine. I did see tags from the US Treasury dept. on various pieces of office furniture and equipment, and surmised that they had picked up Heath for back Federal taxes. I also gathered that what really got them by was an annuity left to Howard by his grandfather. I do know Helen had worked for Eddie Heath and Howard "inherited" her, when he took control of Heath. Busy as we were with the detail design and construction of our new plane, I soon became acquainted with Howard and Helen. It wasn't long until a small coterie of five or six couples came into being. We had numerous beach parties, etc. The Anthony's, being both married and the oldest, more or less chaperoned the group. In this group I met the young woman who was to be my wife. But more and more, Howard, Helen, Phyllis and I split from the main group. A big night for us was to buy a couple of dollar's worth of gas and drive to South Bend to buy a dozen sweet cream doughnuts and consume them on the way home. We had our new plane flying in 1940. It was a two-place, highwing, strut-braced monoplane, 2-place side-by-side seating, the 100 hp engine driving a 7 ft 6 in dia. prop through 2-to-1 herringbone gears, which gave a cruising speed of 110 mph and a landing speed of 46 mph. The individual who made our propeller, Roger Lorenzen of Niles, promised another 10mph at cruising without cutting the 750 fpm (pt per min) climb rate we had. But Dave Bailey did not want to spend any more money and in July 1940 he shut Starling Aircraft down. The last I heard, the plane was in a building near Gull Lake, northwest of Battle Creek. During this period, Howard had developed several items which were in demand: a simple communication system for use by instructors and students, a steerable tail wheel and replacement windshields for Aeeronca, Taylorcraft and Piper light planes. The communication system consisted of a rubber mouthpiece, rubber tubing and a set of rubber earphones for the student. While not perfect by a long way, they did improve instructions between the instructor and student. The main feature of the tail wheel was that it was made of cast malleable iron. Most cast metals tend to be brittle, but malleable iron castings go through an extended period of heating. This makes them tough and I never saw one that broke. The windshields were at that time made of vinyl sheet, a plastic that could not be formed. It also had the bad characteristic of being susceptible to crazing and discoloration by the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. Phyllis and I had been married in April of 1940, with Howard and Helen being our attendants. When Starling shut down, with nothing available in the Benton Harbor area, I had to go afield and finally found a job with Curtiss-Wright in St. Louis. So, Phyllis and I packed up and moved there. Neither of us liked the move, since we didn't know anyone there. It was hot and humid and just too far to drive to work. We had been there only two weeks, when we received a letter from Howard, asking me to come back to Benton Harbor to work for him. Phyllis and I talked it over and then wrote Howard to set up a meeting. We agreed to meet on a Sunday at the Champaign-Urbana airport. We met as agreed and discussed things while dining. The result of that meeting was that I would return to Benton Harbor as soon as possible and we were in Benton Harbor in September of 1940. By the time we returned, things had changed for Howard and Helen. Instead of only two, there were now four people at Heath: Howard, Helen, Lee Smag(linski) and an office girl, who later married Helen's brother Jim. There was tremendous interest in flying then, and windshields, tail wheels and the instruction phone were going faster than we could make them. We often received parts for 50 to 100 kits, assembled them in a day and shipped them all the next. Lee Smag, as he preferred to be called, was an interesting character. He had built his own plane and taught himself to fly. His weakness was for beer and women, not necessarily in that order. My first job at Heath was to get things down on paper, for there were no drawings or any other information on anything that Heath was making. Along with the windshields, tailwheels and instruction phones, Howard had added a tie-down kit. That first Christmas everybody got a small bonus, and I remember that Howard gave Helen six Christmas presents, one for that one, and five others for when he could not buy her anything. The next project was the design of a ski for light planes. It was a simple design: a 3 1/2 inch diameter steel tube, curved up at the front end, cast aluminum plugs for closing the front and the rear of the tube and a pedestal of smaller steel tubing welded. We built the first one in three days, ran the required static tests, taking pictures of all the required loads and load positions. All the pertinent data, drawings and pictures were sent to an engineer whom Howard had contacted in Washington, DC. He took the data to the Civil Aeronautics Administration (now the FAA) and we had an approval in two weeks after the start of the project. It was a light weight installation, very good for snow not over eight inches deep. There wasn't much snow that year, so not many sets of skis were sold. The following fall we had wet, heavy snow on September 28, 1941 and never ever got caught up on shipping skis. And that fall the main project was the design of a plywood float. Howard had the engineer, who had helped with the approval of the tubular ski design, work up a set of prints. But after examining them, it was obvious that the design was not feasible for the equipment and personnel that Heath had at the time. Things ended up with us using only the basic lines and offsets; all the details and materials had to be changed. We built one with mahogany plywood for the skin and installed it on a Taylorcraft owned by Al Dillon. We removed the wings of this plane at the airport, trucked them, while towing the fuselage, to Paw Paw lake, installed the floats and wings and launched the first seaplane with Heath floats. The seaplane had only one fault: it would 'porpoise' at a certain speed. It was not dangerous, as either a change in speed or a slight change in attitude would halt it. That fall, Paw Paw lake started to freeze over about the 10th of December and on December 15th Al took off from the lake and landed the seaplane on the ground at the Benton Harbor airport. We later built a set of floats with 'Consoweld' sheets as a cover. This material was laminated paper, made by Consolidated Paper Company of Racine, WI. We installed them on a Piper J-3 at Austin Lake, south of Kalamazoo, where Irv Woodhams gave flight instruction for both seaplanes and landplanes. He was very surprised at the take-off, since he flew planes only with EDO metal (aluminum) floats. The big drawback to either plywood covering or Consoweld was that both materials absorbed moisture readily. Howard's first interest was radio, and one of his first projects was to develop a small, lightweight radio for light planes. I had no interest or experience in this line, so I don't know just how the following came about. At any rate, an individual approached Howard for backing on a very interesting instrument. It was about the size of an alarm clock and had only one control. A spot, green in color, was all that showed on the dial face. I guess it would be called a 'position indicator'. The green dot indicated where one was with respect to a pencil mark, which was the place you had originally started. All one had to do was to make the green spot match the pencil mark by going in the proper direction. The rate of travel could be adjusted for the speed of a walker, car, boat or plane. It would have been a boon to a hunter, who was not familiar with the territory in which he was hunting, or for anyone going into some new territory for the first time. Howard showed interest in the device, but passed it up. I understood that there was some difficulty in connection with who actually owned the rights to it. I also just recently saw an ad for Cadillac in which they described something similar to it being available soon. In April of 1944 I had my appendix removed. While not an emergency, my doctor told me later that, had it been, he could not have saved me, due to my appendix being displaced. He said ordinarily such an operation takes about 15 minutes, and mine took at least 30. At that time Howard assured me that I had nothing about which to worry and that, if things got bad and he could only keep one employee, I would be that one. During the war Heath obtained an Air Force contract to make skids for the gliders to be used in the final assault on Germany. By this time Lucite (DuPont's trade name) and Plexiglas (Rohm & Haas) had become available and Heath started making windshields for the popular makes of light planes. As far as I can ascertain, Heath made the first such windshields and installed it in a Piper J-3 owned by the Groh brothers, who operated a flying school at the airport. Heath also obtained another Air Force contract for windshields for the L2, L3, and L4 liason aircraft. This came about when an Army major general was killed in a plane accident caused by the old style vinyl plastic type. Heath also obtained an Army contract to develop floats and skis for the Stinson L-5. This was a plane about 50% heavier than the L2, L3 or L4 planes. So I had to work up a completely new larger float and ski design. It took most of the winter to accomplish this. Finally the day came when we were ready to test the float plane. We flew the L-5 to Austin Lake and changed it to float gear. Everything was ready by Thursday afternoon, and on Friday Howard closed the shop and everyone who wanted to could go to see the first flight. The L-5 was already in the water when we arrived. It looked good to me, but a number of people thought it was down at the rear too far. Al Dillon, the Test Pilot, tried taxiing and then tried a take-off. It did take a long run and I thought Al was just checking things, but I found out that it was a long take-off. When the attitude at which the L-5 was at rest in the water was mentioned, he said: "don't change a thing, it has the correct setting for both take-off and landing." Al made a couple more take-offs and landings and we all went home. It wasn't until the next day that I knew why the take-off run was so long. A seaplane is usually slower than a landplane and therefore requires a prop with slightly less pitch. And the L-5 still had the landplane prop on it. When I called Stinson to see about getting a lower pitch prop for a seaplane, they would hardly believe me when I told them that we had made take-offs with the landplane props After Al had flown the L-5 seaplane and checked handling, etc. a group from Wright-Patterson AFB came to see it. A Major flew it and dropped it in from about 20 feet in a stall landing. I thought everything was going to give way, but everything held. It was a real 'live' static test. During the war the number of Heath employees grew to about 75-60. We had succesfully produced skids for gliders, float and float attaching gear, ski and one-piece plexiglas windshields. Most of it could be applied to civilian planes and things looked good for the aircraft accessories business. One day Howard came to me with a stranger in tow. He introduced Charles Scogland and told me that Heath was going to develop a plastic float and Charles was our consultant. Charles had spent two years in Ohio working with the new polyester resin. It was all strange to me, but Charles knew his subject and I quickly grasped the basics. We started with such fibers as jute, burlap and sisal, for there was no fiberglass as it is known today. Those other materials made very dense, rigid laminates, but were easily punctured by any rigid object. We had been working on this laminating process for less than two weeks, when one day a representative of the Bacon-Gustin Company of Kansas City, KS stopped by and gave us a square foot of what he called glass mat. That was about lOam. At 2pm we tossed on Howard's desk a laminate made with the new material and announced that it was the material we would use for the floats. I got busy on the design of a fiberqlass float for use on the light planes then available. With the float design determined, a steel mold was made for the hull and for the deck part of the float. We encountered two problems. First, some of the welds of the mold were porous and allowed air to seep into the molded laminate, and, second, the molds had to be heated to cause the resin to gel. But in spite of these problems, I managed to make a set of floats out of the new material. At this time Heath was also trying to land a contract to make windshields for a new Taylorcraft. Howard was very determined to get this job. But it was easier said than done. The windshield had a lot of double curvature. Plexiglas becomes flexible when heated to 300'F, and at that temperature it can be molded and stretched. And when cool it will retain its new shape. The crew making the part was having difficulty in getting good parts and Howard finally asked me to take a couple of days away from the work on the fiberglass float, to see if I could determine what was causing the problem. So I worked with the crew, both helping and observing. I found the basic problem was that stretching the plastic sheet caused 'orange-peeling', which resulted in distortion so bad, that one could not be sure of what one was seeing. They were using sheets only .100" thick. The plastic sheet is cast, and as such has quite a range in actual thickness. Stretching magnifies this difference. The solution I suggested was to try a basically thicker sheet, say .125", and if the distortion was still there, to go up in thickness until a clear shield could be made. Howard would not do this, as he, as I said, really wanted this job. We had sent five to Taylorcraft and had all of them rejected. I figured that if you had even 5% rejected, the windshield would be a losing proposition. We learned later that Swedlow Plastics of Youngstown, OH went broke trying to make this windshield. In June 1947 Carl Bishop and I went to Austin Lake to install the new fiberglass floats on a Piper J-3. This was on a Monday. We finished on Tuesday, expecting to weigh the seaplane and determine the plane's center of gravity location, since this is the first step necessary before flight testing. Wednesday Howard told us to go to Austin Lake and take off the floats, which we did. On Friday I was out of a job. Earlier, in the spring, I had had a talk with Howard about how things were going and had told him that I thought a change was coming in the light plane field. And I was right, for the light plane industry slumped. Heath had landed a contract with Republic Aviation to build the windshield and windows for a new flying boat, which they had just put on the market. Somehow, an order for $10,000 worth of Plexiglas could not be cancelled, the plastic for the Republic job. I never found out what actually happened. During the next three years I saw Howard less than a half dozen times, and Helen not at all. I was working for Val D'Olloqui in East Cleveland. But I didn't like Cleveland, and so we moved back here in late 1954. Hence I was not here when Howard was killed in the plane crash in Tennessee. After we moved back to St. Joe, I saw Helen only once, that I can remember. We met quite by chance, while shopping. I know that Phyllis saw Helen a few times, but we were never close. Mutual friends told us that Helen was lonely and depressed. But I don't know, for I never saw her other than at that one chance meeting. Gene D. Woods 21 Jan 87 HEATH STORIES #31 MY TWENTY YEARS AT HEATH Heathkits were popular with me back in the forties and fifties - as I worked for radio and TV stations and repair shops in Northern Michiqan and in the Upper Peninsula. After the fun of building a kit came the pleasure of listening to my "Hi-Fi" or using a test instrument that I had built myself. The Heathkit manuals always added to my continued education as I studied the "Theory of Operation" and "Circuit Description" sections and traced each circuit on the schematics. As Northern Michigan's economy slumped in the early sixties - with very few career opportunities in Electronics - I sought greener pastures in the Southwestern area. I knew about Heath Company, VM, and ElectraVoice, and felt I could find work at one of them. Well, my first stop was Hilltop Road in St. Joe where I filled out an application. That was in April of 1964. Five other applicants were completing their forms when I went in. Each would hand it to Dolores Brown, who pretty much ran Personnel in those days, and Dolores would say, "I'm sorry there are no openings now, but we'll place your application on file and if anything comes up we'll let you know". Surely I was about to receive the same answer, but instead, she began talking as she looked at my application - "I'm sorry there are no openings now but - - Oh, you have an FCC License?" Doors opened. After a couple of interviews and tests, I was hired as a Service Technician on communications equipment - Marine radio and CB gear - which required a license to service and certify. Louie Lechner was the Supervisor and Ray Nelson was Foreman, and there were eight or ten super-fine guys to work with in the department. It was a happy family thing where we all helped each other to excell, and we had fun competing and achieving. That happy family atmosphere prevailed as we shared each other's joys and sorrows. Just about the whole department would attend someone's wedding, or a house party. And if one of us had a tragedy or a need, we all chipped in and did whatever we could. Most notable was when a co-worker died and everyone attended the funeral (with pay). But then, Heath was smaller (about 450 employees) and those human acts never got out of hand. There was a degree of levity too as each new eaployee would be "initiated" by one or more practical jokes. One of the favorites was to assign a new man to the bench next to mine and watch him plug in the line cord of a unit he had just finished repairing. A huge cloud of saoke would emerge from beneath the set and he would franticly yank out the power plug thinking the unit was about to explode. Sometimes we pulled this joke more than once on the same newcomer before revealing the small plactic tubing that ran from a hole in the center of his work bench over to my bench where I would blow my pipe smoke at the opportune moment. Within a year after starting at Heath, I was promoted to the Manual Department to begin a new career as a Manual Writer. Bill Lacy will stay in my memory as the best "boss" I ever had. He had a way of chewing a person out and making him like it. He was a master at getting the best out of each employee. As a Teacher, Mentor, Advisor, and Friend, he was a great influence on my advancement at Heath and development of my own character. Jim Carney pulled a neat trick on me when I was promoted to the brand new job of Scientific Instruments Manual Supervisor. At a technical writers meeting shortly after - Jim made a lengthy speech about my promotion and the fact that my new office had a credenza with a nice planter in it. He said he thought it would be nice to present me with something for the planter - and handed me beautifully-wrapped box full of horse manure. I made a humble acceptance speech and assured the members that I would share this fine gift with each of them. The next day, Carney came to work with a cold and a stuffy nose. I went to Bill Lacy and all of the fellow-workers who might visit Carney and told them to start sniffing after they are in Jim's office a while. Well, it worked. Jim thought sure I had planted some of that manure in his desk or file cabinet, and was not satisfied until he had moved and cleaned every nook and corner of his office. Many others left impressions on me - mostly good impressions. Among them was Bruce Capes whose "Management By Objectives" really works. It was brought home to me in a Manual Scheduling meeting one day when I displayed a very negative attitude about my department being overloaded. With ten jobs scheduled for the week, I began by saying we could not do this - because - and we could not complete that - because - etc. Bruce interrupted me with, "Now take a fresh approach and tell me what you CAN do". Looking at it from that angle, I found that only one of the ten jobs could not actually be completed. Then there was Wiley Hunt. We had one typesetting machine, and Wiley would insist that he wanted two jobs run simultaneously. I startled him once by running one job after-hours and presenting both at once the next morning. Wiley had the courage of his Christian convictions. I remember at a Chicago seminar with Wiley and several others, we had each ordered a drink at the bar - except Wiley. He said "No Thanks, May I have a Coke?". I admired that. Dick Lentz runs a close second to Bill Lacy as a boss. But then, Dick was once Bill's protege, and succeeded him as Supervisor when Bill left Heath Company. So many others run through my memory - it would take a book unto itself to recall them all. Suffice it to say - I never wanted to leave Traverse City back in 1964. But I am glad I did, for I would never have had such wonderful experiences or met so many great people as I did at Heath Company. Bill Tolbert Oct 86 HEATH STORIES #32 SAILING WITH HEATHKIT By 1966, Heathkit Electronic Centers had been established in downtown Los Angeles, Anaheim, San Diego and a specialty marine store in Redondo Beach. I had purchased a Cal-25 sailboat, which was put in the water at the yacht dealer's dock in the marina at Redondo Beach. When I came down to get the boat, it was on Memorial Day and the dealer had gone off to sail in a race. The problem was that I had to get the boat from the dealer's dock to the Heathkit service dock, which was clear at the other end of the harbor near the fishing pier, restaurants and the commercial area. I brought a couple of friends with me, and, based upon book knowledge only, we got the sails installed. With no motor, it was a challenge to get out of the dock area, especially since the wind was coming directly off the ocean. We pushed the boat out of the dock and started tacking back and forth up the channel. After about the fourth tack we did not get the boat all through the turn, and we started back down the channel toward the dock we had left. I told the crew to drop the jib, which would leave the mainsail to turn the boat around, so we could get headed again upwind. Unfortunately, they dropped the mainsail, which came down with a crash all over me. I couldn't see a thing, as the boat picked up speed heading down the channel. Finally the jib was dopped and anxious sailors ran out on the dock to grab and stop the boat. Thoroughly shaken, we contemplated what to do next. A young boy came by in a seven-foot dingy with a little motor and we talked him into pulling our bigger boat up the channel and out into the harbor, where we could put up our sails. It was a big task for him to pull the boat. Finally, out in the harbor, we got our sails up and had a glorious day sailing back and forth on the ocean. The only problem was that we had to get back to the Heath dock in the commercial area, and I had never brought a boat into it before. As we came down through the harbor, also going downwind into the dock, I determined that we would drop the sails early and coast in slowly. Well, down came the mainsail again, all over the boat. The halyard came loose and went to the top of the mast, and with all the precision of a Chinese Fire Drill we arrived at the dock. Hundreds of Memorial Day spectators watched, as we hoisted one of the crew members up the mast to retrieve the lost halyard. The snide remarks of the audience were most humiliating! After getting the Heath electronic equipment installed, I had to bring the boat from Redondo Beach to Oceanside, the location of my permanent dock. I purchased a very old Johnson 5 hp outboard, so we would have some emergency power. We decided that the best way to get to Oceanside would be to sail to Catalina Island, stay overnight and sail the next day to Oceanside. The afternoon sail to Catalina was fantastic. The sky was clear with a good breeze, and we could see the island clearly as soon as we left the harbor, although it was still 22 miles away. We seemed to "fly" over the waves and were anchored in the harbor in a short time. The next morning we arose early to leave. A thick fog had descended and not a breath of wind. We motored by compass until almost all of the gas was gone. We saved enough to get into the dock when we arrived at the harbor. We had a person stand on the bow beating on a pan periodically as a fog signal. Gradually a wind came up and we could sail, but by the time we had arrived off Oceanside it was well after dark. Oceanside Harbor was then a very tricky challenge. The Northern half of the harbor served the Marine base, and there was a low groin separating the two harbors that could actually be under water at high tide. This hazard could only be identified by a small red light on the end. The Southern portion of the harbor entrance would shoal up, so that at times breakers would come right into the harbor entrance. As we approached the harbor, it was hard to identify anything, with all of the car traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway. There were also lights from the parking lot, apartments, stores and docks. Just as we came past the harbor jetty, I pulled the rope to start the motor and it came out in my hand! We broke out the paddles and stroked as hard as we could. Just then we caught a breaker. And into the harbor entrance we flew, just like a surf board - only this was a 25 foot sailboat, weighing about 5,000 pounds! Once we got into the harbor, the wind dropped and we ghosted along the channel and turned upwind into our slip. The boat came to a stop, we stepped off and dropped our lines on the dock. The other sailors stood in awe, as one remarked, "You must be real sailors to come into the harbor and dock without power." "We do it all the time," was my reply. Somewhat chastened, I decided I needed some additional education in the techniques of sailing and enrolled in the Power Squadron. At the first meeting the old salt instructor said, "The first thing a dumb fool does, when he buys a boat, is to take off to Catalina, with no experience and little equipment. I hope none of you are so foolish as to attempt this." I hoped no one noticed as I sank lower and lower in my seat. At this time Bill Johnson was over the retail store program and came to California for an inspection visit. Wanting to show off the new boat, I suggested that we spend the night aboard, when we went down to visit the San Diego store. He said, "Why not?" After dinner it was warm and there was a nice breeze, and I suggested we go for a sail. As we were going along with the breeze off Oceanside, Bill looked at the MWW-14 radio telephone on board and asked, "Do these things really work?" "Sure," was my reply. "Would you like to make a call?" He asked if he could actually call his wife, Pat, who was at home in St. Joseph. I assured him that he could. I contacted the San Pedro Marine operator, who put through the call. We could hear the phone ringing and then the line was picked up. Marine operator: "Is this Pat Johnson?" Pat: "Yes." Marine operator: "I have a call from the yacht Tiancum." Pat: "What?" Marine operator: "Go ahead. Bill: "Pat." Pat: "Bill, where are you?" Bill: "I'm out sailing on the Pacific Ocean." Pat: "Bill, are you drunk?" Bill: "Honest, Pat, I'm really sailing on the Pacific Ocean." Pat: "Bill ... really, where are you?" Bill finally appeared to convince Pat that he was on my boat and we were on a sail together. The conversation progressed for a few minutes. However, Pat's last words, as she was about to hang up, were, "Bill, now tell me where you really are!" So Bill found that the MWW-14 really did work. And the next time I saw Pat, she asked if Bill and I were really out sailing, when he made the call. Robert E, (Bob) Carson 11 Dec 86 HEATH STORIES #33 THE SUPER TECH'S When a new Heathkit Electronic Center had a grand opening, announcements would be sent to all past customers in the area served by the store. This usually resulted in many old kits, that had been put away years ago, being brought in for service. Loads of kits would pile in, including old FM-3A's, WAP-2's and W-5M's. The new store technicians would often end up with a three or more week backlog, plus GR-53 Color TV sets would be stacked all over the place. Bob Furtaw and Ray Nelson were the persons who set up the service departments and trained the local technicians. Claude Meyer would also usually attend the Grand Openings. Bob, Ray and Claude decided to see if they could service most of the products immediately during the Grand Opening, so the new technicians would not be left with a backlog. Immediate service was also impressive to the customers. Over a period of time all three became really proficient in this type of service. In 1972 the Customer Service organization was established at the Heath factory. Previous to this time, the service technicians were part of the Manufacturing organization. When Bob Furtaw became Factory Service manager, he decided to see if we could give "instant service" to the many customers who came to St. Joseph to visit the plant and also to drop off items for service. The practice, up to this time, was to take in the units for repair, integrate them into the factory service cycle and then ship them back to the customer. Instant service would allow the customers to take the units back with them. Four "instant" service benches were set up near the factory service counter. Bob Furtaw instructed the technicians on the new program, but they were very negative. They did not feel that "one day" or immediate service was practical. Bob suggested, that if the technicians got stuck or had some real tough problems, to call him over and he would see what should be done. The technicians that were strongly opposed to this program obtained three or four "dog" TV sets from factory service, that appeared to have problems that the technicians could not find or fix. Also, Bob Furtaw came out of the Store program, and there was a tendency of some technicians to "look down" at the capabilities of the store technicians When the "dogs" were all sitting on the benches, the technicians called Bob to come over to help them with some service problems. Bob arrived on the scene, probed here and there with the test instruments, and suggested that the technicians immediately replace certain parts. Within a short time the four dogs had been repaired and were in operating condition. The technicians stood in awe From then on Bob Furtaw had the respect of all of the factory tech's. He was probably the best "one on one" technician trainer we ever had. He not only knew the theory, but could actually immediately find and fix practically every problem. Ray, Bob and Claude were Heathkit's real Supertech's. Robert E. (Bob) Carson 11 Dec 86 HEATH STORIES #34 OUR HEATH FRIENDS Shortly after we moved to the St Joseph area, in the fail of 1950, we became involved in the Cub Scout Training movement. My wife, Miriam, was asked to put on a Leader's Training Course for Den Mothers and Dads of Cub Scouts. Among those who attended were Bjorn and Marion Heyning. Their son Cork had just joined a Pack. How successful was the training? We'll let Bjorn expand on that. He (Bjorn) does hold the Silver Beaver Award. One great success however was that the Heynings and the Ohmanns became life-long friends. Bjorn's enthusiasm for Heath is infectious and before I knew it I was wandering through the intricacies of an MM Radio kit I am NOT an electrical person, but rather a mechanical engineer. With Biorn's patient tutoring however I worked my way through to a successful end. I was a prime candidate, because of my ignorance, to do some proof building of several of the many kits for which Bjorn was responsible. If I completed a "Proof Build" successfully, then he felt it should be OK for production. He started me out with one of the early Breadboard Educational kits. I graduated to small MM Radio kits and in the early 60's the CB kits. We had a Base unit in the house, a Monitor in the garage/shop and a Mobile unit with the gutter-mount antenna. It was fun to be in touch with the house and save that extra trip to the store to get a loaf of bread, especially after the signal-activated system was developed. A Handy-Lab was later added to my "Electrical Equipment Box" and was used regularly until the middle 80's, when it disappeared in our move to North Carolina. In the 70's the Ohmann family got involved in boating, and we were again exposed to Heath versatility. I built two Depth Finders. The second boat we had, "Der Kafer", was loaded with Heath products: A VHF Transmitter, Direction Finder, Fog Horn/Hailer, 110/DC Converter, Intercom System, High Intensity Strobe Light and a Battery Condition Checker. Since that time we built a Programmable Door Chime and a Battery Life Tester for small dry cells. I also built (I think) a Tube Checker and a Tape Rewinder. But that was a long time ago. It was fun to follow the instructions in the Manuals and try to find out why things didn't always work out. There was great satisfaction in solving problems and winding up with a usable product. I recall fondly my feeling of friendship with the Heath people I have met: Ray Freridge, Gene Fiebich, Doug Wise and many, many more. I even met Howard Anthony. And later David Nurse. Heath holds many fond memories for me and I will probably build more kits before I'm through. William Ohmann P.E. 1 Feb 87 Bill Ohmann retired from Whirlpool a few years ago and moved to North Carolina. He had been involved for over 30 years in the design of Washers, both here and in the Clyde, OH plant. During those years he studied in his spare time and overcame the lack of a formal college education by passing the Professional Engineers exams. We're at least as proud of that, as he was of my Silver Beaver in Scouting. (The next year Bill also received his Silver Beaver.) For it was the Ohmanns who cajoled me into active participation in the Scouting program and to assist in a Big Event. Then they were transferred to Clyde and left me to rise to the occasion, take their place and carry it out. Without their guidance and encouragement I'd never gotten my Beaver. Biorn Heyning HEATH STORIES #35 "LOW-HORSEPOWER FUN AIRCRAFT YOU CAN BUILD" by Don Dwiggins, copyright 1979 by TAB Books Blue Ridge Summit, PA 17214, has as Chapter 5: "Flying the Heath Super Parasol" We now come to Edward Bayard Heath, one of three early designers who got the homebuilt aircraft movement moving, the others being Ace Corben and Bernhard H.Pietenpol. After developing and flying a number of hot little racers like the Baby Bullet and the Tomboy, Heath was approached by a Minnesotan named Weston Farmer with the idea of developing an ultralight monoplane using a Henderson motorcycle engine and the lower wings from a Thomas Morse Scout. A considerable number of the resulting ultralight, called the Heath Parasol, was built, before the evolutionary Super Parasol evolved, with a Clark Y airfoil replacing the World War I thin wing of the Scout. By 1929 the Super Parasol was all the rage, and one evening that year a midwesterner named Irving C.Rolfshus settled down to read a magazine before the fireplace, and came across a picture of a helmeted pilot flying a small parasol plane into the setting sun. "Listen to this, Ma!" he yelled, and then he began reading the magic words that would change his life: HOME ON TIME! With the sun setting in the west your HEATH SUPER PARASOL driven by that dependable HEATH-HENDERSON aircraft motor brings you home on time. The HEATH SUPER PARASOL is the most economical transportation ever devised by man, with a fuel cost of less than 1/2 cent per mile. Build this plane yourself for $199, or purchase it flyaway our flirport at $975.00. Detailed shop blueprints at $5.00 per set. 10 cents in stamps or coin brings you our large illustrated booklet. HEATH AIRPLANE COMPANY, 1731-29 Sedgewick St., Chicago, Illinois. Rofshus went to his writing desk, dug out five 2-cent stamps, stuck them in an envelope, and sent off for the information kit, and before long he was on his way to become one of the first homebuilders to put together a Super Parasol. The Rolfshus Super Parasol is still flying today, after half a century of service in the same family. She was restored a dozen years ago, and its pilot-owner now is Irvin's son Robert, a plastic mold machinist of Albert Lee, Minnesota, who already has logged some 200 hours on the antique homebuilt. The Super Parasol used to advantage the modular construction concept that had launched the earlier Parasol as America's first kit homebuilt and later would make Heath Kits a household phrase in the world of electronics. You paid $12 for the first kit, or, if you were rich, plunged and paid $199 for the whole assortment. "For those who cannot afford to invest the whole $199," Heath advertised, "we have arranged shipment of the bill of materials for our Heath Parasol in eleven convenient progressive groups. By purchasing these in groups you may build your Heath Parasol with limited capital and without delay." He added: "If there's a small river or lake nearby, remember that you may build the Sea Plane Parasol on the same installment basis." The original Heath Parasol grew bigger with stronger wings over the years as its horsepower went up, but basically it remained one of the most popular homebuilts ever designed. If you weren't handy with tools, you could still order a Parasol complete, flyaway from the factory for only $695, with a 2-horsepower, four-cylinder Heath Henderson De Luxe motorcycle engine that swung a 4-1/2-foot propeller directly driven on the crankshaft by means of a special conversion Heath had invented. The two wing panels were pinned together at the center, and so could be quickly disassembled for road-towing and storage in the barn. And if you didn't know how to weld, the steel tubing fuselage could be bolted together with a wrench and a pair of pliers. The 1927 Parasol had a wingspan of 23 feet and weighed 290 pounds empty. It could carry 225 pounds and was capable of a top speed of 70 mph. Landing speed was 32 mph. By 1929, Heath had added two more feet to the wingspan, thus increasing the wing area from 94 to 110 square +eet. The empty weight dropped to 260 pounds, and the useful load was increased to 300 pounds. Several engines were available, from the 4-cylinder converted Henderson to the 3-cylinder Anzani, the 2-cylinder Wright Morehouse, and the 2-cylinder Bristol Cherub. Before his tragic death in a plane crash in 1931, Heath had modernized the Parasol with a left side door for easier entry. V-struts joined at the bottom of the fuselage, with the aileron cables strung through the front struts. Heath added a skylight to the center section for better visibility in turns. Other modifications included skis and floats, the changeover made simply by using the same fittings that carried the conventional landing gear; and a low-wing model also was introduced. The Parasol design remained a favorite over the years, and the most popular was Model LNB-4, the one granted Department of Commerce approval for home assembly. LNB-4 came with optional starter, fuselage door, wheel brakes, and a choice of three propellers - linen-tipped spruce, hardwood, or metal. It weighed 450 pounds empty and with the Heath B-4 engine could hit 73 mph. Of course, nobody was really in a hurry in those days. Gas was ten cents a gallon and a dollar's worth would carry you 330 miles. Transportation at one-third cent a mile was not at all bad. The Heath Super Parasol, introduced at the Chicago Aircraft Show in 1929, was the ultimate ultralight of its time, weighing only 260 pounds empty. Powered with the converted Henderson motorcycle engine of 27 horsepower, she'd hit 70 mph, land at 28mph, and had a range of 200 miles. Engine and propeller weighed 117 pounds, about half the aircraft's total empty weight. Wings were of conventional design with spruce spars and spruce ribs and webs. The ribs weighed only 2-3/4 ounces each, but carried a rather heavy load. Two inverted-V struts in front and back of the single cockpit supported the wing roots. Two steel tubes on either side of the fuselage ran from the bottom longerons to about 60% out along the wing panels. A 5-gallon fuel tank in the center of the wings worked by gravity feed. At 40 mpg this provided a range of 200 miles without reserve. The Super Parasol's wing panels weighed only 18 pounds each, and the wing tips were made from tubing bent into a semi-elliptical shape. Ailerons were hinged from the top of the rear spar, increasing the control leverage and at the same time making the hinges handy for inspection or servicing. The airfoil was the Clark Y. Bob Rolfshus, being a skilled mechanic, tore down the Corvair engine in his father's Super Parasol three times over the years, modified the air baffles, and extended the exhaust manifold stacks to improve cooling. The first time he rebuilt the Corvair with 1/8-inch overbore racing pistons, but after 24 hours she began to rattle and bang, particularly at a high rpm of around 2700, with a 43-inch pitch Al Schauss wooden prop. On one 80-mile cross-country trip Rolfshus pushed the Corvair up to 2650 rpm and hit 100mph, when suddenly the whole engine began to flutter. He throttled back quickly and things quieted down, and when he finally got home he discovered a big hole in one piston and a hunk of piston ring clanking around inside the exhaust port. Discussing the problem with and old friend, Bernhard Pietenpol, who lived over in Spring Valley some 60 miles east of Albert Lea, they came to the conclusion that burning 100-octane gas had burned the hole in the piston. He switched back to regular automotive fuel, which the Corvair was designed for. One time Rolfshus flew over to the EAM Fly-In at Rockford, Illinois, and slid into the traffic pattern behind Ray Hegy's famous homebuilt, Chuparosa. He hung right on Ray's tail, and Hegy kept peering back over his shoulder, wondering how a Super Parasol was staying with him at 120 mph. It was the Corvair that did it. Three illustrations were included: 1. Ed Heath in his seaplane Parasol 2. Bob Rolfshus with his Super Parasol 3. Three-view of Heath Super Parasol Permission to reprint the above chapter was granted on 13 Feb 87 by Raymond S. Collins for TAB Books. HEATH STORIES #36 A RUSH JOB FOR HEATH Early one morning, Milleradjo, Inc of Coloma, MI received a phone call from Ellis Grear, head of Heath Co purchasing department. Grear and I were friends, and had known each other for years. Heath had a production run of 500 kits scheduled for that afternoon and for some reason found that they were missing the coil needed for the run, and that they would be unable to get them for some time from their supplier. Grear asked whether there was anything we could do to improve their situation. I asked Grear if I could talk with the kit engineer in that I did not have the necessary materials to supply the coil. Over the phone, the engineer and I discussed the physical and electrical requirements of the coil, so that I could determine whether Milleradjo could help. I requested a short time to evaluate the situation and called back within the hour, informing the Heath engineer that maybe Milleradio could replace the coil with a substitute that would meet the physical and electrical requirements. Also keep the afternoon's scheduled production run, for Milleradio would have the coils to them as early that afternoon as possible. The 500 plus production coils were in Grear's office before 1pm that afternoon! Only because Heath Co had the necessary trust in its employees and had the trust and personal contact with some of its suppliers could this be done. Most companies of the size of Heath Co would still be waiting for the initial approval signature to get the procedure started. Bill Schaaf, owner at that time of Milleradio, Inc. Joe Miller, former Chief Eng at the Bangor, MI plant of Standard Coil, Inc. during the war, was talked into returning to the coil business by Howard Anthony. After his untimely death, his wife continued the business and took Bill Schaaf in as assistant. He ended up owning the business from 1957 until he sold it in 1984 to Assembled Components in Coloma. HEATH STORIES #37 Larry Pratt in the Kalamazoo Gazette, January 19, 1975 BIG OR SMALL, HE CARVES 'EM ALL Niles Craftsman Designs, Builds 2,011 Propellers In Half Century Roger Lorenzen practices a rare art. He is a propeller carver, possibly the only such craftsman within a thousand miles of his shop across the road from Niles' airport. "I have a friend in Texas, and one in Washington state, who carve props," Lorenzen says, but he knows of no other individuals still producing specially designed wood props for home-built airplanes. The future of this craft is uncertain. Lorenzen delivers an occasional lecture for Notre Dame's aeronautics and space department, but he has no proteges trying their hand with the clamps, drawknives and drills. Lorenzen has been in the aviation business for 47 years. To date he has carved 2,011 propellers. He knows, because he keeps careful records of the design of each. One of them was just a small prop enabling a professional skier to zoom along with a backpack motor at 50 miles an hour. Others were props for three "parafoils" currently being tested for the Air Force. These strange rigs are powered aircars lifted by inflated wings. One of those, with its Lorenzen prop, was featured on nationwide TV in a Morley Safer interview for CBS' "60 Minutes". Back in 1933, Lorenzen built the world's largest fixed-pitch wood propeller, a 16-footer weighing 194 pounds. It's still used today for spin testing in the vertical wind tunnel of the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics lab at Langley, VA. The big prop was completed in six weeks. "I carved 350 pounds of shavings in making it," he says. "When I put it on the balancing stand for the first time, it barely moved. It was almost perfectly balanced, but one blade was one half of an ounce heavier at the tip. I kept the shavings as a souvenir. "It's a kind of guessing game," Lorenzen says of his special craft. "The design of the prop comes from experience. It's not something you can sit down and read out of a book. Over the years, you acquire certain knowledge which is intangible, and this you impart into the design. "The prop has a very definite influence on the airplane's performance. Without the correct prop, you may have nothing. That's a mistake homebuilders make - an experimental plane requires a special prop." Does a wood prop have advantages over the metal propellers now commonplace? Yes, says Lorenzen, "It results in a smoother flight, because a wood prop absorbs some of the engine vibration. Another example of his work is the recently finished custom prop for a single-seat Turbulent sportplane built by Dave Eaton and DraVern McIntosh of Kalamazoo. Lorenzens's woodcarving is based on information supplied to him about the engine, RPMs, horsepower, aircraft dimensions and weight, and designed or desired speeds. "The propeller is nothing more than a wing travelling in a circle - or rather, in a spiral. When we say a prop has a 36 inch pitch, that means it advances the airplane 3.6 inches forward for each revolution of the prop." He starts by selecting his lumber, sap birch. "It's a hardwood, a tough wood It carves well, glues well - it's the same thing toothpicks are made of." "It's all laminated, I plane it down to the right thickness after I've drawn the design," Lorenzen says. "I use Weldwood glue made in Kalamazoo." Then he lets the laminated block season for about a week before cutting the outline with a bandsaw. The project takes about 20 hours overall, and then Lorenzen lets the finished prop season for a couple of weeks. He began carving props back in 1920, when the then-prosperous Heath Airplane Company of Chicago hired this lanky youngster from the Iowa farm country and soon after made him foreman of its propeller department when Lorenzen was 18 years old. The Heath company built several racing planes, including the popular Heath Parasol, and some of Lorenzen's props led the way to national air racing prizes. Some of his collection of enlarged photos show the 1928 Heath Baby Bullet, a tiny ship looking a bit like the present-day Bede prototype. Its pilot, Heath, weighed only 110 pounds, Lorenzen says, "and its 150 MPH speed with only a 32 hp engine is unequaled to this day." Heath moved to Niles in 1931 and then went bankrupt in the Depression, and Lorenzen took a job with Glenn Martin at Baltimore, helping build the three famous transpacific Pan Am Clipper four-engined flying boats. "They had gas in the sea wings and in the fuselage. Four thousand gallons. Just inches below the passengers' feet, although they didn't know it." Lorenzen returned to Niles and opened his present shop beside Tyler Memorial Airport in 1940. Nowadays, at age 65, he's letting the workload slack off a bit. "Not looking for customers but just handling the requests that come in," he says. He's still an aircraft builder, too, although not on the scale of that China Clipper; the framework of a taildragger Champ fills one side of his shop, and in a couple of years or so Lorenzen expects to be flying it. He was building hang gliders and flying them off the rolling Iowa hills two years before the Heath company discovered his talents. "This was before the craze renewed itself. Lilienthal was the pioneer in hang gliders." Lorenzen built parts of other small planes. One of his works will soon enter the Air Force Museum at Dayton - a Standard J-1 biplane. He built the wings on that craft for a Texas millionaire, after drawing plans from salvaged remnant pieces. The task took 4,000 hours. Copied by Bjorn Heyning 30 Mar 87. HEATH STORIES #38 THE DISCONTINUITY IN THE HEATH COMPANY NAME In response to a request for a story for this book and comments on it, Roger Lorenzen of Niles, hired by Ed Heath in 1928, and with the company till it folded in 1935, wrote a letter stating: I read the book of stories and found it interesting. I do not pretend to know much about the electronics business, which Howard Anthony operated in Benton Harbor, but he did start out repairing radios in Dowagiac. The way Howard was able to come in and acquire the physical assets of the airplane company in Niles in 1935 has always been a mystery to we employees and stock holders. I was one of the largest stock holders. We always felt there was some intrigue involved in the deal. How could Howard Anthony, "a nobody", suddenly acquire all of the machines, materials and semifinished parts for the small amount of money involved? Walter Clinnin was then president of the organization, and by the way, it was International Aircraft Corporation and not "Heath", as that name had been dropped in 1932. Walter was a sharp lawyer from Chicago and how this company got away from him has me baffled. Howard moved the factory equipment to Dowagiac from Niles, not to Benton Harbor. He did call on me from time to time to make things for which he had received orders. He first called the business "Anthony Aircraft". One time later, when he handed me a purchase order for a propeller, I noticed the name had been changed to Heath Company. I called him on it and said, "you did not acquire the Heath name, you bought only the machines and equipment". He replied, "Yes, I know, but Helen has an uncle by that name and we will say it came from there." So, where is the connection with Ed Heath? There is none. Howard always had a quick answer, even tho it did not always add up. The company lawyer, Sam Croaker, called me to the St. Joseph headquarters one time and wined and dined me at Schulers and tried to get me, as a long time Heath employee, to say that Heath (electronics) went back to Ed Heath. I told him the Heath Airplane Company, for all practical purposes, died when Ed Heath was killed, and the Heath name was dropped shortly thereafter. New people were brought in to run the organization and a new line of products was offered, but the company failed. Enclosed is a Xerox copy of an article from the Magazine section of the Chicago Tribune of Nov. 3, 1974, titled "How I, a mechanical klutz, built a Heathkit receiver". Also enclosed, the Tribune's "Corrections and clarifications" of the following Sunday, Nov. 10, after I called their attention to the misinformation contained in the original article. I wish the present Electronics company would "stand on its own feet" and take credit for what it has accomplished from the time Howard started in Dowagiac, instead of trying to hook onto the defunct airplane company that had no interest in electronics. Ed Heath would turn over in his grave, if he knew how they have tried to make a connection with him. When Howard was in the Baker-Vawter building, around 1936-37, the space he rented was fenced off with chicken wire. Occasionally he called me to Benton Harbor to help him on a project, as he didn't seem to have mechanical ability. When it came to paying me, he would say, "I don't have any money, but if you see something you could use, I'll let you have it". Another time, he and Helen invited me to their apartment for supper. We all went in to the grocery store to pick up items for the meal and, here again, they had no money. So who paid? I did. One time they thought it would be fun to take in a movie, so we all went, but again they discovered they had no money. Who ended up buying the tickets? Me! I was single at the time, so I could swing it, but Howard never thought of me when things were going good, and he could have sent some work my way. Sincerely, Roger E. Lorenzen The Tribune story by Peter Comer contained the statement: A far cry from those Army-surplus oscilloscopes Ed Heath bought 30 years ago and peddled to people to put together. The Correction stated: Roger E.Lorenzen of Niles, MI wrote to the Tribune to say this was not so. Lorenzen said he was a personal friend of Heath and a stockholder in Heath's airplane company. "Ed Heath never made or sold any electronic product in his lifetime," Lorenzen wrote. He is correct. Corner obtained the original information from the Heath Co., Benton Harbor, MI. With the benefit of Lorenzen's letter, Corner went back to the Heath Co. Ed Heath produced a kit to make a single-engine airplane. He died in 1931. Howard Anthony later bought the company and sold the oscilloscope under the Heath name. And that's the way it will appear, we are told, in the revised history of the Heath Co., thanks to Mr. Lorenzen.