It’s been said everyone has a story. It’s also been said that everyone has a dream. My story has its beginning in the 1930s when my grandfather took his first plane ride in a 40-horse Cub. Lessons in the Cub followed, leading my grandfather, together with several friends, to form the Haleyville, Ala. Aero Club.
When Papa John Lakeman earned his pilot’s license, my father was his first passenger, starting a family tradition that includes a love of flying and a devotion to the Piper Cub.
In fact there have been four Cubs in our family. My own introduction to flying was in a Super J-3 that has a story of its own, but I will leave that for another day.
Operating from the 1,800-foot sod strip on our family farm, with my father as teacher, was a good beginning. I was thankful that the strip had been lengthened from its former 1,200 feet.
When I finally got to make a landing at the Haleyville Airport I was amazed at how long that 3,400-foot runway looked—plus, it had no cows on it!
In his zeal to make me “safe” before he turned me over to a CFI, my father became a Marine D. I., insisting that I do 50 stalls before I ever attempted the first takeoff. With no intercom, my father shouting instructions, we flew through stalls, spins, and turns around a point.
Handing me a copy of “Stick and Rudder” one day, he told me that it would give me an understanding of flying that would save me a lot of grief if I would take it to heart. It is surprising how many times our fathers turn out to be right about things.
Making progress, gaining confidence, I knew my father was ready to hand me over to a CFI. He wisely chose Joe Fleeman of Lawrenceburg, Tenn., the main reason being that he was the only instructor we could find who was comfortable instructing in both the J-3 and the Cessna 180 that we had at the time.
Joe was not only an instructor of excellent reputation, he was gaining fame as a builder/restorer of vintage planes. When I saw examples of his work, I was more than impressed, and the dream was born that day; the idea that one day Joe could restore a plane for me: the ultimate J-3 Cub.
Only a daydream for many years, as I entered college, followed by dental school, then went on to establish a practice, the image of that Cub never left me. I was very lucky to marry a girl who let me put my dream first.
Taking Sunday afternoon trips to Joe’s workshop over the years, I noticed that he always had another project or two waiting in the wings.
Even though I wasn’t sure I could afford a Joe Fleeman project, with Joe having won two Oshkosh Grand Champion awards, the quality of these second to none, I decided to put my name in the mix anyway. Another year passed and Joe won another Grand Champion Award at Oshkosh with his 1941 J-5 Cub.
In the meantime, when my wife and I were blessed with two beautiful daughters, Christine and Claire, real life had crowded out fanciful thoughts. The Cub had been put in a back corner of my mind, so I was surprised and excited when Joe indicated that he was almost ready to begin my project. But before we began, we had to find a plane.
We found the remains of a 1946 J-3 that had been almost destroyed in a fire. Not wanting to buy a flyable J-3, only to have Joe disassemble it and rebuild it (a costly proposition), I thought this looked like the plane for us.
Our primary interest then became well-documented paperwork. I began to entertain the idea that with Joe as restorer, this Cub might get top honors at Oshkosh, but it would have to be as originally manufactured.
As I pondered the situation, I knew I wanted to get out of our grass strip with two reasonable size guys and without the pucker factor. This convinced me that I needed a C 90-8, instead of a stock 65, resulting in several discussions with Joe.
A stickler for keeping a restoration as close to original as possible and knowing this would be a change that would exclude winning a Grand Champion award, Joe nevertheless saw the need for a bigger engine on our grass strip.
The only thing that is not original, other than the engine, is the finish. Joe’s restoration of the J-5 was exactly as it had come from the factory, and at that time they did not put a mirror finish on the planes. I had seen the painstaking hand rubbing that Joe had done on other projects, that gave such a deep gloss that you feel you are looking down into the finish. I wanted shiny.
The end result was a completely original 1946 J-3, down to the double-fork tailwheel, except for engine and finish. A small group gathered at Lawrenceburg one afternoon to watch as Joe taxied the little yellow Cub down for takeoff on its maiden flight.
As it lifted off, I confess that I had a lump in my throat. What in the world is as pretty as a J-3 Cub?
On every project, Joe is pilot on the maiden flight, this one was no different. Climbing to altitude, Joe circled the airport, always keeping in gliding distance. As recommended by the manufacturer, he ran the engine wide open, breaking it in, for what seemed to us observers, a long, long time.
Joe was interested in fuel consumption as well, and with his customary, meticulous planning, came in for landing just as the fuel ran out, about 12 feet above the runway, resulting in a perfect dead stick landing.
Calm, as always, giving no indication that this day was different from any other, Joe was greeted by our little band of admirers, that included several pilots, and among those present were my father and Joe’s dad, Jay. As we offered congratulations, Joe smiled in his modest, pleased, way. Wondering how he could be so relaxed, I figured I was excited enough for both of us.
The summer of 2003 is memorable for me for two reasons. The most important was the arrival of baby Sally, a delight to everyone, and a not too distant second, the Cub was ready for its long journey.
With the plane performing perfectly, the time had come to plan that trip to Oshkosh. As a favor to the owner, Joe would fly the J-5 to its home in New Holstein, Wis. and I would fly the J-3. Having flown Cubs cross-country many times, it was nothing to Joe. To me it was huge!
We carefully planned the flight to stay out of controlled airspace; even more important, we had to manage our limited fuel range. Planning our legs at 80 miles a pop, landing at a lot of little airports, I got to meet so many nice folks, I almost thought I was back home in Alabama.
Flying over country I had never seen, it was particularly exciting to fly around the western edge of the Chicago Class B Airspace. Visibility that day was severe clear, affording me a view of the city and Lake Michigan.
As we flew on, I cannot describe how I felt to be in that newly restored J-3 Cub, looking down on the Wisconsin countryside. The lovely farms with grass a shade of deep, emerald green that I had never seen before seemed picture-postcard perfect. Wisconsin is one of our most beautiful states, and the way to see it is in a Cub. Many people say that Cubs are too slow—not to me. I wanted to go even slower.
When the dust had settled I was thrilled to have my Cub win the 2003 Reserve Grand Champion Classic award. As I gazed at the little plane, I felt joy for my dream coming true at last and pride in the work my friend Joe had done to make it possible. With a thankful heart I thought of my grandfather and my father; remembering a story that began with love for a Piper Cub, a story not ending, but one that continues almost 70 years later.
Since returning from Oshkosh, the little yellow Cub rarely gets more than 10 miles away from home, but I know after that trip, it’s ready to go anywhere.
Dan Lakeman lives in Alabama with his wife and kids and his Dream Cub. Send questions or comments to editor@www.piperflyer.com.
