Bug bustin'

Flight Journal, Apr 2002 by Davisson, Budd

We've all seen them. We'll be driving along when they suddenly pop up out of the distant foliage like a trout out of water. If we're lucky and the field runs alongside the road, we'll be treated to the spectacle not only of aerial combat at cotton-crop level but also a demonstration of what is arguably the best-and most dangerous-stick-and-rudder flying being practiced in the world of civil aviation: Ag flying.

In a very real sort of way, the Ag pilot stands between us and, if not starvation, certainly a reduction in our food supply. They are on the front lines of the bug battle that could mean billions in lost crops. Subliminally, we all understand their contribution, even if we don't often acknowledge it. Ag pilots, however, have made another contribution-this one unintentional-that directly benefits aviation history. In an ironic turn of events, they helped to save hundreds of old airplanes, even as they wore them out.

The concept of strafing bugs from low-level aircraft equipped for chemical warfare predates WW II, but neither the hardware nor the agro-economics was there to make it a financially viable industry. It took the excesses of war to remedy that.

As WW II ground to a halt, the largest aerial armada in history was melted into beer cans, and the few survivors were huddled anxiously on the auction block, hoping to find work as civilians. Two of those, the BT-13/SNV-1 Vultee "Vibrator" and the Model 75 Boeing/Stearman (PT-13/17, N2S, etc.) would eventually not only find work, but they would also contribute greatly to America's food basket. Sadly, one of them would have to die to support the other.

Surplus Stearmans hit the streets in such huge numbers that they were priced under $500. Now the wannabe Ag operator had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of low-speed airplanes that were capable of carrying big loads. Better yet, they were nearly free. Many operators, however, found them to be too underpowered to carry the really heavy loads. Enter the gigantic fleet of surplus Vultee trainers and their 450hp Pratt & Whitney R-985 engines and matching propellers. By whacking the engine off a Vultee and grafting it onto the Stearman, the old biplane became a super-effective tactical weapon against the bug battalion. In a short time, the 450 Stearman was the crop-dusting industry.

Thousands of Stearmans buzzed across America's treetops for nearly 40 years before being forced aside by more efficient, more modern machines. In their heyday, though, thousands of them were literally used up. They were flown until there just wasn't anything left to fly. The survivors became the basis for hundreds of antique airplane restoration projects.

If the aerial-application industry hadn't thrown its arms around the entire Stearman fleet, the breed would have rotted away at local airports all over the country, just like the rest of its peer group (PT-19, PT-22, etc.) had.

It could be said that because of the crop-duster pilot, the Stearman survived and was given the rare opportunity to live three outstanding lives. First, it was the backbone of the WW II training effort. Then, in the late '40s and '50s, it was the bedrock on which the agricultural flying industry was built. Now, in its third incarnation, it is the reigning king of the world of antique airplanes. And this doesn't even address the airplane's ongoing life as an airshow performer.

These days, we seldom see Stearmans down in the cotton, working for a living. Today's Stearman is usually a perfectly restored, thoroughly pampered representation of what "the old school marm" was in the beginning. Still, the next time you marvel at the grace and historical presence of a well-restored Stearman, remember: if it weren't for bugs, we wouldn't have Stearmans.