Sky Ryder - Ryder International CEO Frank Ryder - CEO at Leisure

Chief Executive, The, May, 1994

Flying a World War I plane is a lot more demanding than a modern-day Cessna. Those early fighters were one-seaters--no room for an instructor. You have to be a quick study and make the right decisions in a heartbeat, because you don't get a second chance, especially when you're flying an unproven design on its maiden flight.

On one of my first flights in the Fokker triplane, a wheel bearing froze on landing and nearly flipped me over before I could get back into the air. Confronted with the unenviable task of having to make a one-wheeled landing, I mentally rehearsed what I planned to do at least 50 times. I wouldn't want to--and probably couldn't--do it again, but I managed to land without a scratch while firetrucks chased me down the runway.

Another time, I was in our Fokker D-VIII "Flying Razor" on my way to attend a World War I re-enactment in Pennsylvania when a low battery gave me inaccurate navigational readings. Over the West Virginia mountain forests with low fuel and low visibility, I opted for a precautionary landing in a tiny pasture, because it was the only clear, visible space. Barely stopping behind a little house next to a church cemetery, I climbed out of my plane and hopped over the fence. As I walked toward the porch, I spotted 90-year-old Ruall Anderson rocking. Without a word, he turned a second rocking chair around and motioned for me to sit. He didn't seem surprised by either my presence or my flight suit, perhaps because, as he said, "someone did the same thing in 1950." By the time we pulled his truck out of the shed, went to town, bought gas, visited his church, his birthplace, and drank some of his homemade wine, I was stuck for the night.

Of course, aviation appeals to people of all ages and so does the aerial equivalent of slapstick comedy. At a performance for schoolchildren in Huntsville, AL, strong, gusty winds lifted the tail of my plane while taxiing. As the propeller splintered, and the engine died, I had to laugh in spite of the loss when I heard 4,000 kids howling in laughter. They thought it was part of the show and the most hysterical thing they had ever seen. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

My wife is now learning to fly her new Super Decathlon stunt plane and attends all of the airshows as part of our crew. Our Fokker D-VIII, Albatros DVa, and Nieuport 28 have each won "Grand Champion" for a record three straight years at the Sun-n-Fun Airshow held each spring in Lakeland, FL. The gathering is the second largest airshow in the nation with about 700,000 in attendance.

Of course, it's not just the planes that draw spectators, it's also the personalities. At our own show, Aerodrome '92, in addition to seeing nearly 100 World War I aircraft, the public had an opportunity to meet three surviving World War I pilots, all in their 90s.

Joining Americans Glenn Messer and Art Seligman was Otto Roosen, who regaled the crowd with stories of flying with German Ace Ernst Udet and being shot down by Canadian Ace Billy Bishop. Coincidentally, Bishop's son, Arthur, also attended and was accompanied by the "Red Baron" Manfred von Richthofen's niece. To everyone's delight and amazement, both Seligman and Roosen took the controls and flew while I had the unforgettable historic opportunity to fly in formation with them.