Lieutenant Commander Charles “Heater” Heatley’s attempt to fly Cole’s Warner-powered Fokker Triplane is integral to Aerodrome lore.  There are as many versions of what happened that day as there are raconteurs.  I was there and this is what I remember.  It was a long time ago-what isn’t true should be.

“Top Gun” was a 1986 Tony Scott vehicle for Tom Cruz and Kelly McGinnis set at the Navy’s dogfighting school.  It was huge on jet fighters, testosterone, and power ballads.  It also featured one of the best, silhouetted kissing scenes ever.  Heater was a skilled still photographer and supplied the shots for the book, which inspired the film. He is listed in the credits as a photography consultant.  Following the success of the movie, he began working with a TV production company developing a scheme in which he would fly the Triplane and compare it to an F-14.

In retrospect, the plan may have had some flaws not the least of which giving a pilot who never had light plane experience, a weekend of dual and turning him loose in one of the most demanding airplanes in history.  However, Heater was engaging and free publicity was always extremely welcome, so a deal was struck.

On the appointed weekend, Heater arrived.  He was probably better looking than Tom Cruise and immediately attracted the attention of every woman who spotted him, including a visitor of a certain age who appeared to possess more mascara than native acumen.  Smitten from the first smile, she settled in for the duration.  The Commander was vastly entertaining with lots of wild tales of Navy flying and the making of the movie.  There was no doubt he was a “Top Gun” and everyone was enjoying his company.

He also proved to be a quick study, starting with flights in Bill Hammond’s Franklin Cub. Adapting to flying on the wing, rather than power took a while, but he got the hang of it and, after the better part of a day, matriculated to the Great Lakes for more challenging ground handling and learning to cope with the drag of multiple wings.  He did OK with that, too, and all parties agreed that the Triplane was achievable.

At this point the god’s sent a warning.  The insurance documents from the TV production company had not arrived and it would have been, perhaps, prudent to await them and spend more time practicing in the Lakes.  However, all that Top Gun gung ho was infectious and the Tripe came out of the hanger.

Heater did a couple of test runs down the field, the fact that he didn’t immediately groundloop into the woods was impressive and it wasn’t surprising when he went all the way to the north end, ran up and turned into the wind.  The Triplane lifted smartly and started a normal climb. Relief shown on a lot of faces with the assumption that, if Heater could just keep it straight on landing, he was home free.  The good times didn’t last long.  As the Tripe crossed the south end of the field, it rolled hard left, the nose dropping to a vertical dive. Just prior to impact, there was a loud bang, it flared abruptly and plowed into the middle of Norton Road.

Everyone was on the run, pausing only to divert a very young Nate and Clay Hammond, who stationed close the south end of the field for the event, were beating feet in a direction where they would likely find a sight unfit for tender eyes.

Those first on the scene found the Triplane vaguely intact, more or less upright, although considerably less tall.  What was missing was the pilot.  A search in the cockpit, under the wreck and up into the fuselage determined we had an airplane, but no Heater.  The mystery was solved as a faint moan wafted from the roadside ditch, were he, no fool, had dragged himself as protection in the event of fire.  As we approached he was taking inventory and determining that while he might be bruised he was remarkably free of serious damage.

About this time, his admirer arrived, batting her lashes, and breathlessly inquired if he would like to hear the 23^rd Psalm. The moment was ripe and Heater seized it. His return smile may have been a bit dazed but it was unmistakably dazzling as he came to his feet and inquired as to the lady’s health.  Oh, if he had only saluted.

Chivalry aside, there were practical matters needing attention.  An ambulance had been summoned (and that meant the local constabulary was on the way,) the carnage blocked the road and it did seem a good idea for Heater to be check out by a doctor.  Bill Hammond and heavy-duty bolt cutter made short work of the parts of the Triplane still in formation and it was quickly on the side of the road. Heater was dispatched to the emergency room and the cops passed him going the other way.  Which proved providential as the local gendarmes had about had it with Aerodrome nonsense and quickly determined Heater did not possess a civilian pilot’s license, that detail previously not being much of a concern.  They were, however, confounded by not knowing his whereabouts. Aerodrome personnel were vague on the issue and, by the time they discovered his location, Heater had been taped up, conducted a spirited exchange about military health coverage and was returning to the Aerodrome.   He passed the law, going the opposite direction, for a second time.

It did seem wise to get Top Gun out of the jurisdiction and safe haven was deemed the Navy Base at Quonset Point, Rhode Island.  I recall the Hammonds as being instrumental in getting him across the county line.

Epilogue:  The loud bang heard just before the Triplane hit was the right wing cutting the power lines at the south end of the field.  The wing apparently caught, momentarily, raising the nose, causing the flare and subsequent pancake landing, which likely saved Heater’s bacon.  Cole had another triplane in about week, the 220 Continental machine, which served faithfully for many years.  The TV production was never completed.  However, the story had, “legs,” and the Aerodrome got years of publicity from it.  To my knowledge, no charges were ever lodged against Heater. He retired as a Captain and is COO at The Rendon Group a Washington, DC public relations and communications firm.