Grayson County TXGenWeb

GRAY FIELD
Municipal Airport
Denison, Texas

"Retired Pilots Recall Wild Blue Yonder and Gray Field"
by Calvin Mauldin
Denison Herald
June 7, 1992

Although Denison's place in history is primarily that of a railroad town, there's aviation in its past as well. Going back to Oct. 11, 1911, the citizens were able to view up close the "Vin-Fiz" a tiny kite-like flying machine that was traveling cross-country from New York to Lose Angeles as an advertising stunt for a soft drink company. The excitement created by the spindly craft infected those on hand that day with the flying bug. Time and circumstance allowed further pursuit until decade-and-a-half later when Gray Field was created.
The timing for the airfield could not have been better. The airplane that was considered a toy for the wealthy was not abundant, thanks in part to the conflict with the kaiser. War surplus Jennys were cheap and easy to fly and surplus pilots were plying their trade as barnstormers and wing-walkers. The world was caught up with aviation fever and Lindbergh hadn't yet flown non-stop from New York to Paris!
The local airport took its name from the man who inspired it all. Dick Gray, a reporter for the Denison Herald and a city fire marshal. Gray could see the future growth potential aeronautics could bring to Denison in 1926 and began to seek out financial support for such a facility. With private donations and the zealous efforts of the Junior Chamber of Commerce, funds were raised and 100 acres of land were leased two miles east of town. The property, part of the Richardson Dairy, was situated between East Main and East Texas Street Road, resulting in easy access to and from the ground.
Little clearing was required to make the strip ready for operation and other than the construction of a main hanger, the airfield soon opened for business in the autumn 1928, amid excitement and dedication speeches.
The celebration was further enhanced by the arrival of a squadron of Army/Air Corps fighter planes all the way up from Randolph Field for a exhibition of the latest thing in flying technology. By the end of the day, hundreds of spectators had viewed the aircraft up close and some of the more adventurous took their first flight.
In the 1930's Gray Field had established itself as part of the transportation industry. Braniff Airlines was using it as a fuel stop for its Fairchilds and Hamiltons that were making the Tulsa to Dallas flight. Besides that, dozens of citizens turned out on the weekends for rides in the airfield's Stinsons. Others came to take flying lessons.
The time period is best remembered by Vittie Corthron. "When I was a youngster, my folks would take me out to the field," recalls the retired pilot. "You could park along the fence and watch the planes take off and land. The parking area was always crowded with cars full of spectators. Occasionally, one of the groups would take up a collection so a member of the family could fly in one of the planes. The price was $2, a bunch of money back then, but well worth it. Little kids got to fly, and I've even see gray-haired grandmothers go up. From all I saw on those visits, I knew someday I'd be behind that stick and be flying, when I was big enough."
Corthron and others would have a while to wait, however. The airport finished out the decade and was barely into 1942, when the conflict with the Axis Powers shut down the operation. With aviation fuel and pilots in short supply, not to mention the other necessities the aircraft needed for maintenance, the strip reverted back to the cows. The main hanger now held had instead of Stearman airplanes.
In July 1944, Gray Field was reopened. If the previous decade had been considered the high point, the mid-40s predicted a golden era. The new manager, flight instructor and general Jack-of-all-trades was Tom McBee. Not a lot is known about McBee before he took over the airport, but former pilot, Ed Briggs, remembers him well. "He was undoubtedably the best flyer us young guys had ever seen," says Briggs. "Tom had a natural feel for an airplane, and loved doing rollovers more than anything else."
Ralph Cox adds, "McBee brought in four J-S Pipers and he could do things with those planes I'm sure they were never designed to do!"
Along with the Pipers, McBee had more hangers built. According to Cox, "I never did figure out exactly how this was accomplished, since building materials were difficult to get back then. But what I never did fully understand was the unusual laborers. I say unusual, because they were German POWs who had been working on the spillway at the new lake. Every day, here they were at the field, building new T-hangers. Sixteen Germans. They'd work all day, the guards would load them up in a truck and take them back to the lake sight at night."
Briggs, Corthron and Cox all remember one thing . . . the desire to learn to fly did not always match one's pocketbook. " The cost for flight time was very expensive," recalls Cox. "It was $7 an hour, and to get a license you had to have 35 hours in the air. I made a deal with Tom. He needed some shelves built in the hangers, so I did the work and got two hours flying time."
Corthron laughs and adds to this, "I saved every nickel or dime I could get, helped work on the planes and did odd jobs at the field, but most of my flying was 20 minutes at a time doing take off and landing practice."
Flying has changed drastically in the last 50 years and we asked Ed Briggs what it was like in the bygone era. "Oh, those old times were so simple. Keep in mind the pilot was truly in charge of his survival. You might use the old phrase 'seat of the pants' to fully understand how it really was. In the cockpit were very few instruments, there was no two-way radio and the field itself didn't have a radar, only a wind sock on a pole. We mostly flew using landmarks and on long flights we followed highways and railroad tracks. Also, most towns had their names painted on the rooftops so you knew where you were. As a matter of fact, the Denison Hotel was a reference point for out-of-town pilots.
The three retired flyers all referred to Gray Field as the "hump." Cox explains why. The airstrip ran north to south and was never so much as touched by a roadgrader. In the very center was a gradual rise, so taking off or landing the airplane was going up hill. Tom McBee used to say if you could take off and land here, you could take off and land anywhere."
When the summer of 1947 came around, over 20 private planes were berthed at the airport. Denison celebrated its Diamond Jubilee with a giant, old-time air circus. Airplanes came from all over the United States for the show and although no official head-counts were taken, an estimated 1,000 people viewed the spectacle.
In this time period, Tom McBee sold his airplanes to Texas Aviation Co., left to fly for an airlines and never returned to Gray Field. College, jobs and families cut into Ed, Ralph and Vittie's flying time and they weren't at the airfield as often, then, finally, not at all.
By the early 1950s several hanger fires had strained the airport's finances. Cox remembers his last flight. "It was May 1957. Lake Texoma was going over the spillway and I thought the best way to see it was from the air. I went to Gray Field and rented a plane. The place was very run-down and so was the airplane. It was one of the J-3 Pipers that Tom had bought years ago. That flight was a scary one for sure! The Piper literally fell apart as I flew it and I was lucky to make it back."
Aviation had rapidly grown very sophisticated and scientific by the 1950s, and Beech-crafts just didn't adapt well to the humped airfield. Progress had passed it by. One of the ex-flyers laughingly states, "Like everything else, the rules and regulations became more complicated and strictly enforced.
Buzzing chicken farms, flying under the Red River Bridge or bombing someone's house with toilet paper became frowned on. Any deviation from the norm and you've lost you license. That took a lot of fun out of it.
Today, east of town the 100 acres of land that was once Denison's one-and-only private airport is now populated by cows and rabbits, weeds and barbed wire fences. The sites gives little clue to its high-flying, free-spirited past.