Sierra Mountain Times

Six Days in the Pits: A Local’s Photographic Experience at Reno’s Renowned Air ShowStory and photos by Jerry Maxwell  

In Honor of Mom: When I was just a little kid I said to my mom, “Momma I want fly!” She nodded in understanding. “Yes son,” she might have said, “if you dream enough someday maybe you will.”…

 She showed me how to build kites and bought me airplane models. I dreamed dreams of astronauts and test pilots. She always encouraged me in my dreams. And in my pursuit of them I grew up with skies in my eyes and Momma never said once, ‘don’t stare at the sun… (Well, yes she did, but that was Mom’s humor.)

In any case I lost my Mom last week. It has been really hard. She was the best friend I ever had. To write this without tears is the hardest thing I’ve ever done…but I am doing it for her.

As I grew older I developed an interest in photography and writing and I seemed to do it well. It was in the genes – after all, Mom was the certified fastest typist in the state of Nevada in 1967 and always loved to read what I wrote. Well, usually. She was one of the best critics I ever had too, but that’s another story.

In 1967 she and my stepdad took me to the Reno Air Races. I will never forget the spectacle and the sound – the big planes roaring and the thunder of the jets. I was hooked. It remained a dream for many years, but when I moved to Twain Harte in 2004, the dream became achievable. I became fast friends with Twain Harte resident Alan Smith, who has been to the Reno Air Races almost every year since 1964 and filled me full of tales from the tarmac. The pictures he showed me filled me with awe and one day I asked him, “Can I go?” Not only did he let me go with him, he let me be his protégé…which means I got to carry the cameras (Just kidding Alan if you are reading this.)

But I got my start. Last years article in the Sierra Mountain Times made my Mom so proud. She told everybody her son got into the paper with air racing photos and wrote the whole thing. She was positively beaming. So I know she would have wanted me to do this again.

Mom got her wings before me. Now I head to the desert to see the planes again. And I know from on high she’ll be looking down saying, “Dang Jerry! You missed that shot!” All I know is she will be there with me, and for that I am so proud. Momma’s going to be a good angel. I bet she flies fast.

Day One – Tuesday, September 15th: To make a long day a short story I should say I set out Tuesday morning to conquer the world. Well, actually I set out to once again be a press photographer for the Sierra Mountain Times. To me, that is kind of like conquering the world. So Tuesday I drove over Sonora Pass and at about 4:18 p.m. arrived in Stead for the Reno Air Races. I found out pretty quick that I was 18 minutes late to get my press credentials for the day. But the people at the gates were very understanding and gave me a pass to park my old beater Dodge D50 in press parking. No problem. I walked the 1/4-mile to the Warlock pits where my home away from home family welcomed me. Problem. “Did you bring your guitar?” I gave a puzzled look. “We don’t have a guitar player for the party tomorrow.” I must say this gave me some cause for concern. Now I may not be the world’s worst guitarist, but I certainly am in the top 25. So to have the Warlock Band tell me I had to be the lead guitarist and sing for the party in the pits was a little unnerving. I agreed, but was really expecting a train wreck. The party in the pits on Wednesday night is a big thing. To have to play it by myself would be a night of Neil Young in a land of Louie Louie – which is hard to play…and sing! I was left a little apprehensive like ‘maybe I should run while I still have the chance…?’ 

I didn’t get the chance. I was really obligated when Anita (my warlock momma) gave me a team shirt. Usually they are $20 but she asked me, “you gonna be playin’ in the band?” I said, ‘yeah’, and she gave me the shirt. It was basically a better-show-up-or-die gesture, and suddenly I was the guy who better show up…or die. But I managed to put it in the back of my mind and enjoyed my time in the pits re-meeting people that I hadn’t seen all year before I drove to my brother’s house about 12 miles away. I could already tell that this was going to be a week to remember.

Day Two – Wednesday, September 16th: It was with great trepidation I came back to the pits Wednesday morning. I was a bit apprehensive about being the lone guitarist for the pit party. But first things first – I had to get my press pass. When I walked into the press check-in shack it was as if they’d known I was coming. Even the lady behind the counter knew that I’d lost mom last week. Funny how when you lose someone everybody wants to tell you how sorry they are, and they always say that the dearly departed are in a better place. I do believe in my heart that this is true, but somebody should come up with a book of different things to say when things like this happen. After expressing her condolences I received my wristbands and patches for the week and I headed for the pits.

Reno has six different classes of aircraft that race: the Unlimiteds, the Sport class, the Biplanes, Formula One, Jet class, and the T6’s. The team I belong to is the Warlock #75 T6, one of the prettiest airplanes to ever grace the Reno skies. It is a beautiful shade of Navy blue with a big #75 on her side along with listings of all the races she has won…which since 1981 has been quite a few. The tail of the plane has the initials “AG” which is the initials for the pilot, Al Goss. Hailing from Bakersfield, Al is a pilot’s pilot. Making his living as a crop duster he makes the journey to Reno every year to be part of the races. It’s an expensive trip, usually costing around $25,000 a year, but thanks to sponsorships from Miller beer and Conti Trucking and a lot of work by the team members Al flies every year. It’s a family affair. If you go by the Warlock pits at the races you will see the team members polishing the airplane. Great pride is taken to finely polish every piece of chrome and each and every nook and cranny. Al says the work of the crew adds at least 5 mph to the speed of the plane, which at around 230 mph, which is faster than any Nascar racer.

After checking in with the crew at the pits and getting hugs from my once-a-year-family I went to see what I could see…which is a lot! The airport at Stead is about a mile long and during race time it’s lined with vendors and displays. As far as the eye can see there are pennants and banners, airplanes and classic cars, photographers with huge cameras, TV crews, and every kind of food imaginable. It’s a spectacle on a grand scale. I always like to go find the free stuff, and as usual I signed up for the raffle tickets for a Camaro and a brand new Corvette. Needless to say I’ve never won, but I swear one of these days I’ll come back to Twain Harte in my new ride. One can always hope!

The volunteers at the races are amazing. Everywhere you look you will see them performing their designated role for the races, whether it be cleanup or security, ticket sales or pylon judging, press coordination or traffic control. Very few are paid…it’s a love of the races that brings them here and they are all greatly appreciated. Without them the races could not happen. Every year several hundred make the trek to Stead to volunteer. The world’s fastest motorsport has a cadre of fans and dedicated volunteers who make the event so special. My hat goes off to them, although it’s usually because of the afternoon wind. The wind and the weather at Stead can be very unpredictable. I have seen it with wind, rain, searing heat, and even snow…and I always try to pack accordingly…although it never fails for me to forget something like the sunscreen or the jacket. This year it was sunscreen.

I walked back to the pits to get ready for the evening Warlock pit party, which has grown over the years to be the big happening at the races for Wednesday night. I was scared to say the least to be the solo guitarist and I figured that about five minutes into my performance they would be more than happy to switch to karaoke, but it was not to be that way. Thankfully, several other players had been located and we had a full lineup for the show with six guitar players, two drummers, a bass player, and vocalists. It turned into a great show and with songs like “Louie Louie” and “Mustang Sally” we managed to get everybody dancing. It was a great time and I even managed to pull off a few good riffs! The performance can now be seen on YouTube under “Warlock Pit Party 2009”. It’s a habit of mine; all the Reno Air Race footage eventually makes its way to YouTube and Facebook. 

My time as a musician at the races was now over and it was time to concentrate on being what I do best there: the Twain Harte boy turned professional air race photographer. Thanks to Nikon, every year I get to use the top-of-the-line cameras and take pictures of some of the world’s rarest airplanes. It’s an adventure I wouldn’t trade for anything…except maybe a P51 Mustang. As I went to sleep I planned for the days ahead and readied myself for this great undertaking.

Day Three: Thursday, September 17th: There’s a lot to be said for sunscreen. Sure wish I’d had some yesterday. I have discovered in this intense Nevada sun that the back of my legs, my neck, and my eyebrows are fried. Even the bottom of my nose feels sunburned… guess it’s from staring up so much. But you have to look up to see airplanes, and I’ve been looking up a lot!

I was thinking this morning, ‘Why do I do this?’ Well, it’s a dream come true. Nowhere else in the world can one see this kind of flying. It isn’t legal anywhere else!  An airplane at full speed 50 feet off the ground is a beautiful thing to behold. As an air race photographer I usually stake out my own little turf when I get off the press bus. I need clearance with a lens like this Nikon. I tried taking some pictures back at the pits and clonked a couple of air race fans in the head. There is quite a crowd here this year…some sporting Band-Aids on their forehead. Brilliant me. This morning when I went into the Nikon office to borrow a camera they asked what I needed. I told them I needed a D3 with the biggest, baddest lens they had. Bill, the main Nikon guy, loaded me up with a D3 and a 500mm lens. Huge? Yes. Heavy? Very. Able to knock a poor air race fan out while swinging to get the shot? Umm, no comment.

Much content with having my new rocket launcher-like lens, I walked back to the pits. A couple of Nevada National Guard saw me and eyed me most suspiciously. It’s not everyday somebody walks by with a Saturn 4 rocket engine camera lens in hand. I was panting and covered with sweat. They let me pass out of pity I suppose. “Poor guy, looks like he’s dying under all that,” I could have heard them say. When I got to the pits I climbed the ladder in our trailer to the observation deck and followed a few planes into the sky and realized, “Hey! I have a camera capable of shooting 400 shots at 10 mega pixels each! I can shoot my heart out!” I stood up with the camera and began following each plane in the sky. It was wonderful. It was heavy. It was easy to focus. It was heavy. It took wonderful pictures. It was getting heavier. It weighed more than my arm. My arm was getting heavy. I clonked the guy next to me on the platform and had to apologize…he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother… 

After awhile, my nose, forehead, and back of my legs, and my arms (from swinging around the 35-pound camera) were all letting me know I might be overdoing it. I considered Advil and Bayer and Tylenol and decided that I was going to tough it out. The pain reminds me that I am human. 

To get back to sheer news, there were records broken today. The Jets, Sport Class, and Unlimiteds all posted new speed records. Steve Hinton, the son of Tiger, flew his Strega to a new record in Unlimiteds and he’s only 22 years old! It’s so good to once again see the Strega fly. Each day offers something new and I look forward to what tomorrow holds.

Day 4 – Friday, September 18th: Friday’s in the Warlock pit are usually a lazy day because it’s Warlock’s bye day. It was a day to enjoy the show and kick back in the pits. No rest for the wicked though. As a crazy air race photographer I just had to get the shots, so once again Nikon loaded me up with a weightlifter’s dream camera and I was off to find the “money shots”. 

The first thing I did was climb up to the crow’s nest on the Warlock trailer. This is one of the best spots to take pictures because you can see the whole spectacle from above. The aerobatic team from Red Eagle Air Sports put on a great show. They fly (highly modified) Pitts Specials and are crazy. Part of their show consists of a race with the Air Force Reserve’s Smoke and Thunder Jet Car. They don’t call it “Smoke And Thunder” for nothing either. They ignite that puppy and from the Warlock pits you can hear “BOOM BOOM!” and see big clouds of smoke obscuring the far end of the runway. From out of the smoke appears the Jet Car with a huge flame behind it, and above it the Eagles upside down.

It was getting pretty hot up top so I went downstairs to get in the shade and have a beer. I was just getting really relaxed when somebody called out, “Hey look! A U2!” And sure enough there in the sky above was a really rare sight, a U2 climbing fast. I hurriedly grabbed my camera and by the time I was able to shoot the U2 had climbed to 6,000 feet and was still going up. It then disappeared into the blue sky like a phantom…it must have climbed to 30,000 feet in about two minutes. Incredible.

The T6s took to the sky in the silver prelims next. As a T6 team ourselves there is always great excitement in the pits whenever a T6 is in the sky. We all clung to the ramp railing and cheered the other teams on. Not that the pilot can hear the cheering but there is a great camaraderie between most teams. T6s have a very distinct sound, and my friend Bob from Bakersfield explained to me that the sound comes mainly from the prop tips and the airframe, not so much the exhaust. It’s not unbelievable when you consider that the prop turns so fast that the tips are under 60,000 pounds per square inch pressure at full speed. Hence the need for counterweights on the prop and balancers are set to 1000ths of an ounce. Quite some science goes into fine-tuning one of these machines.

After the T6s landed it was time for the Unlimiteds – which can be called the real stars of the show in Reno. They are “the bad boys” of air racing and fly aircraft worth millions of dollars and sport teams costing millions of dollars and get endorsements worth millions of dollars. The race is exciting and it’s enough to make a lifetime fan out of somebody who doesn’t even like airplanes. Even the jackrabbits in the desert sit up and take notice when the Unlimiteds fly – probably because they are afraid of losing ear tips when the planes “mow the grass” in the backstretch…

I was getting tired of hefting my heavy camera around so I took the camera back to the Nikon guys and called it a day. I decided I’d had enough sun and fun for the day and got back on the road to my brother’s house. Another day done. This week is going by way too fast! 

Day 5 – Saturday, September 19: They say the lighting when the sun is rising is the best time to get the great shots, so this morning I got up at 5 a.m. and headed off to the races. Since Nikon wasn’t in their office yet I decided to get a ramp vest and go out on the tarmac with my Coolpix camera. It’s not the best, but its okay in an emergency…and this was an emergency. The sun was rising and the airplanes were shining pretty. I had to get this. There were clouds low on the horizon and the sun lit them red. Purple mountains rising from the desert floor all tinted with the rising sun…and there before me on the ramp (I was drooling): A P51, Voodoo getting primed up and ready to fly. It was a perfect photo/video opportunity until I heard a voice behind me, “Do you really want to lose your bands?” It was the ramp security main man. Uh-oh. I’d just violated the main rule of ramp protocol. I’d crossed over the red/white line while props were turning. Oops. “I’m sorry sir I guess I’m not quite awake yet…” He told me it was okay, “Just Don’t Do It Again,” and walked with me back to the ropes. I promptly went back to the press shack and turned in my ramp vest. No sense in tempting fate.

Once again I got a Nikon D3 with a 500mm set lens. Sigh. I swear lifting these cameras is gonna have me looking like Arnold by the time I get back. “Sure would like to give you something smaller,” Bill said with a knowing smirk, “but they’re all checked out for now!” I groaned but was somewhat excited to use the big gun again. I wonder if Nikon insurance covers head-bonks to spectators? I swear I haven’t knocked anybody out with the lens yet. Yet. It’s getting pretty crowded here. 

The Reno Air Races bring over 250,000 people together every year in the high desert airport in Stead. It is actually an old Air Force base and has runways going in every direction. At race time things get pretty intense. Coordination is the name of the game here, and the RARA (Reno Air Race Association) does the finest of jobs making sure that all of us aviation nuts might find a common yearly bond. It’s a photographer’s paradise and a thrill-seeker’s adrenaline charge. The sound, the sights, the beauty and the history! It gets to one’s soul after a while…

I went to the west pylons today – the last pylon before the start/finish. It’s the final turn before the homestretch and it’s a challenge to swing the camera to chase the planes that are flying at 300 mph above you…and focus at the same time. There were guys (and gals) out there with big cameras and GPS and sound recording devices. I was somewhat in awe of the technology I saw. 

Twain Harte resident Alan Smith joined me at the pylons. Alan is an Air Race photographer from 1964. He was at the first Reno air races at Sky Ranch just north of Reno and has seen them every year (except three) since. The airplanes came over our heads so fast. It was incredible. I had trouble keeping my footing while at the same time swinging and focusing, centering and snapping the shot. It wasn’t easy. Those planes go fast…really fast. But I didn’t knock anybody out. Suffice to say, it was a good day. 

Day Six – Sunday, September 20: This is the day I dread every year at the races; the last day that always seems to come too quickly. It’s difficult to say goodbye to the friends who have made me feel so welcome. 

I arrived at the races at about 8 a.m., grabbed a camera from Nikon and set out to see the entire show from the press shack at the other end of the airport. I walked the entire stretch (about a mile) from the pits to the grandstands and finally arrived at the military grandstands where I toured a C131 that the Air National Guard had on display. I was amazed! Those airplanes are huge! Standing inside one is a wonder. The walls, ceiling, and floors are covered with hundreds of hydraulic lines, radios, buttons, oxygen lines, and about a zillion things whose purpose I couldn’t even begin to guess at. 

I also was impressed with a Berlot airplane from 1912. It was in these that the first air races were flown in France. Air racing has been happening for a hundred years now, and it’s hard to believe the courage of those early pioneers of aviation to actually put their lives on the line in those cloth and wood motorized kites. 

I headed back to the Warlock pits because the races were starting; and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it. We watched as the biplanes raced with our good friend Marilyn Dash in her plane, the Dasher. She came in last but flew a good race. Not everybody can finish first.

There were press buses leaving for the pylon for the T6 and Jet Gold races so Alan Smith and I boarded one to the east pylon to get some photos of our race. The east pylon…I was a little scared to go out there again because three years ago it was at that very pylon that I watched a jet crash, killing the pilot and halting the races for that day. That is a sight I never want to see again. But it was not to be today. The jets raced first, and I managed to get a few good shots as they screamed by overhead. It’s quite a trick to get a shot like that. Not only are those jets doing 500 mph over you, but also trying to swing the heavy camera, frame in the shot and focus can leave one panting and sweating. It seems like the race is over before you know it. Then it was T6 time…

All week long Warlock had been running in third place but we ended in 2nd place! There was whole lot of backslapping and hugging going on. It was celebration time…but the day wasn’t over and there was plenty of entertainment left. The Blue Angels had an interesting display of JATO takeoff with their C131, Fat Albert. JATO is short for ‘jet assisted take off’ and there were eight rockets attached to Albert’s belly. What a sight! That huge aircraft roared into the sky at almost a right angle then leveled off as the rockets burned out. Very impressive! Then came the Blues with their show, which is always fun to see. It’s incredible the precision they fly with; wingtip to wingtip with inches to spare at 600 mph. Most of the Blue Angels pilots are in their early twenties and as one fan noted to me, here they are barely out of high school flying such an incredibly powerful machine. My hat is off to our armed forces for training them so well. 

Next up was Patty Wagstaff and her Cirrus aerobatic routine. Patty is the 2-time World Aerobatic Champion, and puts on a show that sets the standards for aerobatics. Looping and rolling, diving and climbing straight up to stall it is a wonder she can stay conscious! The G-forces must be enough to kill most us mere mortals yet she takes it and does it fine. 

Finally it was time for the end of show and the highlight of the week – the Unlimited Gold with the highly modified P51s and Bearcats. After watching the brightly colored planes soar through the skies, it was over.

I turned in my camera, thanking Nikon for being so good to me this week, then headed back to the Warlock pits for a few beers with the crew. Al Goss gave me a ticket to the awards banquet for which I was very grateful and I got to watch as the Reno Air Race Association gave out the trophies and enjoy a fine prime rib dinner. Then it was over, and after exchanging hugs and handshakes with all my friends, I walked out to the press parking lot with tears in my eyes. I’m going to miss these people. But there is always next year, and I will be back to do it again.

My heartfelt thanks goes out to all who made it possible for this Twain Harte boy to have such a wonderful adventure: The Reno Air Racing Association, the T6 Air Racing Association, the Sierra Mountain Times, the Warlock Air Racing team, Twain Harte Lumber, Bill Fortney of Nikon, Al Goss, Alan Smith, the Geritz family, and to my mother Michela Maxwell, for whom I dedicate this entire week in memory of her. I love you Mom. I hope you are proud of me. Until next year – fly low, fly fast and turn left!