35 Miles from Shore (7 page)

Balsey met his wife on one such trip across the Atlantic. He and his crew had gone out for dinner and a few drinks on a stopover in Prestwick. They ended up at a dance hall called
Bobby Jones
. Balsey spotted a pretty, petite young girl with blond hair and a green, sequined dress and spent the rest of the evening trying to get the shy girl out on the dance floor. Edith was a nurse who worked at a nearby hospital. It was the beginning of a long-distance romance. They wrote each other while apart and got together whenever Balsey passed through Scotland, which wasn't frequent enough for either of them. They were married on October 20, 1956. Edith hated the name Balsey and preferred calling him by his middle name, Dean. When their first child arrived twelve months later, they named him Dean. Their daughter Denise was born in August 1959.

It was at McGuire where Balsey first met Steedman Hinckley. Balsey was Steedman's co-pilot on the very first flight Steedman flew as an aircraft commander. In a pilot's career, the first flight as captain ranks nearly on par with that of a first solo. In Steedman's case, the flight was made even more memorable because of what happened. Steedman and Balsey were scheduled to take a C-118 (DC-6) from McGuire Air Force Base to Travis Air Force Base in California with several stops in between. On one stop they picked up Steedman's father, who was serving as a full colonel in the reserves. They also picked up the chief pilot of the C-118 fleet, Major Vere Short. Vere was out doing
random check rides. Steedman became so nervous at having his father on board and the chief pilot in the cockpit that he botched an approach. Balsey tried to help, but Vere wouldn't allow it. Steedman subsequently had to get requalified as an aircraft commander.

Balsey and Steedman also flew the Hungarian Airlift together, flying refugees from Munich, Germany to Frankfurt and then on to the United States. On one flight out of Munich, they had an engine fail shortly after takeoff. Steedman was flying at the time and was a bit rattled by the sudden loss of power. Balsey, on the other hand, treated the engine failure more as a nuisance, as if he were upset at the additional paperwork they'd have to fill out. His nonchalant demeanor in handling the emergency made a lasting impression on Steedman.

Steedman left the Air Force in 1957 but maintained a reserve assignment with the squadron at McGuire. Balsey was still active in the squadron and worked as the scheduling officer. On one of Steedman's calls to set up a training flight, Balsey told him about a mutual friend of theirs who had been hired by a non-scheduled airline out of New York. Steedman looked up the friend who later helped Steedman land a job with the airline. The airline was Overseas National Airways. Steedman would later return the favor and help Balsey get on as a captain with ONA. Balsey flew for ONA until the company ceased operations in 1963, at which time he returned to the Air Force. Balsey became an instructor on the new C-130 and spent the next six months training pilots for what was now called Military Airlift Command (MAC).

In late 1965, Balsey was close to finishing out his second military commitment when he received a call from Steedman Hinckley. Steedman, along with several other financial backers, had purchased the ONA operating certificate and was planning to start up the airline again. He asked Balsey to join him. Balsey, however, had already
accepted a job with United Airlines as a flight instructor. He told his friend no and left for Denver to train United Airline pilots on the DC-6 and DC-7.

Balsey was just thirty-two when he began working as a flight instructor for United. Most guys his age were out flying the line. He stood just five-foot-seven. He had put on weight since leaving the Air Force. His boyish features were almost lost in his round face. But when pilots heard Balsey's gruff voice, they knew it was time to straighten up. Balsey enjoyed instructing. He was hired as a captain and was considered a part of management. It was the perfect job. So when Steedman Hinckley called a second time asking Balsey to join him in New York, Balsey once again declined.

Balsey was put on the fast track at United. He went from pistons to turboprops and then on to jets. He was working as an instructor on the new Boeing 707-720 when Steedman stopped by on his way to a Colorado ski trip. Steedman wasn't one to give up easily. He treated Balsey to lunch. He told Balsey about his growing operation in New York. The Vietnam War was going full steam and Steedman had more MAC contracts than he could handle. He told Balsey about his plans to acquire more aircraft. He already had one DC-9 and had orders for two more. He was also looking into purchasing a few DC-8s. Steedman wanted Balsey to be the chief pilot of the DC-9 fleet. Once again, Balsey turned him down.

A few months had passed when Balsey got a call at four in the morning. Thinking it was scheduling calling about a training flight, Balsey picked up the phone. “How soon do you need me,” he said, half-asleep. Balsey had told the schedulers that they could call any time an aircraft became available unexpectedly. There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you there?” Balsey mumbled into the receiver. “I can be ready in half an hour.” Finally he heard someone on the other end. “Balsey, is that you?” It was Steedman
Hinckley. “I'm making one last phone call. Will you at least come and take a look at my operation before you tell me no?” Balsey had been thinking about Steedman's offer even before the call. He and Edith had talked about it that very evening. Edith had suggested that he should consider taking the job should Steedman call again. Balsey was starting to have second thoughts about United. He loved flying the Boeing 707, but it was an expensive airplane to use for training. Flight simulators were cheaper, safer, and more efficient. It was getting to the point where he was only flying the actual aircraft two or three days a month, and mostly late at night—the only time the plane was available. Balsey seldom flew himself; his time was spent watching his students fly. He hated to admit it, but he was getting bored. “I can probably be there Monday morning,” Balsey said finally.

Balsey flew to New York and met with Steedman at ONA's main headquarters. After a brief tour and a few quick introductions, Steedman led Balsey into his office to explain his plans for the future. The current fleet of aircraft consisted of four leased DC-7s, two DC-8s, and one DC-9, with two more DC-9s on the way and options for additional DC-8s. Steedman planned to phase out the four DC-7s and replace them with DC-9 cargo aircraft. ONA would be an all-jet airline by the end of the year.

Steedman painted a rosy picture of ONA, but there were other factors enticing Balsey to leave United. Many of the pilots Balsey knew from the old ONA were working for what was now being touted as the “new” ONA. He would be working for Steedman, whom he respected and considered a friend. And working out of New York would put him closer to his family. Balsey wanted to talk things over with Edith first before making a decision, but he told Steedman that he would seriously consider the offer. He finally accepted the position of DC-9 assistant chief pilot in May 1967. He was promoted to the chief pilot position five months later.

It didn't take long after his arrival for Balsey to discover that not everyone at ONA was as enthusiastic about his hiring as Steedman. There were other pilots at ONA who felt that they should have been asked to run the DC-9 program. One of those pilots was Milt Marshall, the MEC chairman for the local Airline Pilots Association (ALPA). Milt had been the former DC-7 chief pilot. It was Steedman's airline and he could hire whomever he pleased, but that didn't make it right in the eyes of more than a few of ONA's more senior pilots. Steedman had a habit of hiring old Air Force buddies and former Princeton classmates and putting them into managerial positions ahead of other more deserving individuals. That, more than anything else, rankled a lot of pilots.

Balsey was hired at ONA at a time of explosive growth. New aircraft were arriving every couple of months. To keep up with the demands of pilot staffing, Balsey was asked to become a flight examiner. This allowed ONA to give its own checkrides, greatly reducing the amount of time it took to qualify a new pilot. Not everyone was happy with the move. Many of the pilots felt that Balsey was overly tough on checkrides. It didn't help matters when Balsey began referring to himself as the “cherub-faced assassin.”
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“If Balsey liked you, he was one of the best flight instructors you could have,” said one former ONA pilot. “If he didn't like you, you were not going to get through the program. Simple as that.”
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Despite his feared reputation as a flight examiner, Balsey was well liked by the majority of the line pilots, many of whom had flown with him in the Air Force or at the old ONA. He went out with the crews on layovers and bought his share of rounds, though Balsey himself did not drink. His relationship with ONA management, however, was strained from the beginning.

With Steedman out drumming up business for ONA, the day-today operations were left in the hands of William Bailey, another
friend of Steedman's. Steedman had first met Bailey while working for the old ONA. Bailey was a sales executive with the former company. When the opportunity arose for Steedman to purchase the old ONA certificate, he asked Bailey, who was in his early forties, if he would be interested in helping him run the company. Bailey accepted and also became an investor. His official title was executive vice president.

Bill Bailey was a former Major in the Air Force and had over 8,000 hours of flying time. He had flown B-17s and B-29s in World War II. Physically, he was an imposing figure, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He had the rugged features and demeanor of a defensive lineman. His tough exterior made him the perfect choice to play the role of the bad cop to Steedman's good cop persona. Steedman, for example, didn't like to fire people; he preferred less harsh forms of punishment like a demotion or a formal reprimand. If the task was unavoidable, though, Bill Bailey was usually the one to hand out the bad news.

For some, just being in the same room as Bailey made them uncomfortable. One particular habit of his that irked some people involved a hand grip exerciser that he kept in his desk. He would sometimes use the device when he had someone in his office, squeezing it repeatedly with his massive hands as he talked.

While Steedman was the visionary behind ONA, Bill Bailey was the one who kept the airline running smoothly. Steedman often made bids on contracts that were either at cost or sometimes below cost, arguing that he could use the contract to make payments on the aircraft and then make a profit by utilizing the aircraft on other routes. Bailey was left with the task of trying to stay out of the red from the contracts Steedman was signing. He was always trying to cut corners in order to save money. Balsey and Bailey were at odds almost from the start.

One disagreement Balsey had with Bill Bailey concerned the type of tires that ONA was purchasing for the DC-9s. Steedman had signed a contract for the DC-9s to operate out of Hill Air Force Base in Ogden, Utah. The elevation of the airport was over 4,400 feet. The high elevation required special operating procedures for the DC-9s. The FAA gave ONA approval to make zero flaps, slats only takeoffs.
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The rotation speeds were very close to the maximum tire speed limitations. Balsey wanted better tires to handle the high takeoff speeds. Bailey insisted that the retread tires they were using were adequate. Several aircraft subsequently blew tires taking off from Hill. Bailey's solution was to carry spare tires. He instructed maintenance to load two spare main tires and a spare nose tire in the forward cargo compartments of all the DC-9s. Little did he know then that those same tires would later be used by passengers and crew as flotation devices.

There were other disagreements between Balsey and upper management. One disagreement involved a DC-9 cargo door that had come open on a cargo flight shortly after takeoff. When no one could tell Balsey why the door had come open, Balsey ordered a halt to all DC-9 flying until they could determine exactly what had happened. He didn't want the same thing happening again, especially with passengers on board. Lou Furlong, the Vice President of Operations and a former Douglas Aircraft test pilot, immediately overruled him and told him he was overreacting.

Balsey's decisions were being questioned and challenged at every turn. When Balsey told Lou Furlong that he had a young pilot whom he felt wasn't going to make it through training, Lou Furlong told him to do whatever he had to do to get the kid through, stating that the company had already invested a great deal of money on his training and didn't want to see it go to waste.

Balsey's domineering style and disregard for company politics didn't help his cause. It was only a matter of time before Bill Bailey
would find a reason to get rid of the recalcitrant chief pilot. Balsey gave him that reason just four months after having been promoted.

The majority of the flight training in the DC-9s was done at either Columbia, South Carolina or Augusta, Georgia. Both airports had the necessary instrument approaches and were much less congested than the airports in and around New York. The new DC-9 jet drew a lot of attention from the locals. On one training flight in Columbia, South Carolina, several state troopers stopped by to ask a few questions about the plane. The training academy for the state troopers was located on the airfield. Balsey invited the troopers to ride along. He even let them take turns sitting in the jump seat. On another flight, Balsey invited one of the girls from the rental car agency to ride along. It was alleged later, by a pilot who had failed his check-ride, that Balsey had allowed the girl to sit in a pilot's seat during a training flight. The pilot claimed that Balsey was doing more showing off than training and that was the reason he had failed his check-ride. Word of the incident quickly made its way back to Bill Bailey, who now had the reason he had been looking for to oust Balsey.