A deeply flawed but wonderful place to work

At 50 feet by 60 feet, Hangar 50 fills 3,000 square feet of space on the edge of the south ramp of the airport. It is a sad, dilapidated structure that is well past its prime. Its steel facade, pasty brown with peeling, chipped paint, was erected many decades ago — long enough that the walls and support beams have become significantly eroded by the elements.

When the clouds dispense rain, the hangar’s roof offers little resistance, moistening the floor below. The drips are a mere annoyance, however. Stormwater flows freely into the hangar through gaps at the base of the walls, pooling up on the floor in quantities that can be measured by the inch. 

The floor itself is a miracle of patchwork. The back half of the hangar floor is concrete. Not level or flat, but relatively smooth. The front half of the building features a severely pitted asphalt floor. It undulates noticeably, causing rolling tool boxes and workbenches to shed loose items enroute due to the unavoidable shaking. Round wheels are no match for a surface that more closely replicates a cheese grater than an engineered floor.

In a nutshell, the hangar is a wreck. It could be considered an embarrassment by more discerning tenants. For the Aspiring Aviators Aero Club, however, it is home. A much appreciated and well-respected home, at that.

It is where the oddity of a high school flying club can gain a foothold and begin to prosper. This is where members gather twice a week to get their hands dirty restoring a donated 1945 Piper J-3 Cub, and to begin the construction of a Pietenpol Air Camper using plans and raw wood.

Uncomfortably hot in the summer, bone chillingly cold in the winter, and as wet as the public pool when it rains, this imperfect space is where the process begins. This is the almost magical destination a few dozen teenagers consider to be their home inside the airport fence. It’s where skills are learned, pride is developed, and the path to a better, brighter, more affluent future is glimpsed for the first time by kids who by and large have never had an outlet for their aeronautical dreams.

The easy and perfectly understandable reaction of many a casual observer is to criticize the condition of the hangar. To insist the landlord should make improvements. To bemoan the lack of any desirable amenities like working electrical outlets, doors that don’t shriek against the strain of being opened, and of course the high bar of being truly weather tight.

Those complaints aren’t unreasonable. But this is a different kettle of fish. The Aspiring Aviators Aero Club was founded and is run specifically to serve the needs of high school students. These kids have a real desire to participate in a meaningful way. Yet, being teenagers, there are certain limitations that have to be understood right from the get-go.

The members aren’t trust-fund babies. They aren’t going home after school to roll around in their money vault like Scrooge McDuck. Some have a part-time job at the local supermarket. Some don’t work at all. Finances matter and none of them has the means to pay market rate for a modern, up-to-date hangar. None of them have the cash laying around to buy a restoration project or the parts required to bring it back to airworthy status. Heck, most of them don’t even have the means to buy the necessary tools. 

Just as most General Aviation pilots are middle class enthusiasts who choose to make sacrifices to achieve their aeronautical goals, these kids must often do the same. While for some of us that means forgoing a new car in favor of an engine overhaul, or skipping a vacation or two to make up the cost of a panel upgrade, these kids are swapping comfort for opportunity.

It’s a good trade, believe me. 

One year ago, the Aspiring Aviators Aero Club didn’t exist. It was an idea without a home, or a staff, or any tangible assets. Yet, it was an idea that a small group of local residents believed had merit. Time was volunteered, dollars were donated, papers were filed, and negotiations were undertaken. The result was an operational flying club that was designed specifically to serve high school students.

Flying clubs are, by FAA definition, non-profit entities. The AAAC founded itself as a non-profit corporation with a five-member board of directors. The club is managed by adult volunteer officers and is informed by a parallel group of student officers. The kids aren’t able to enter into contracts, so the adults take on that role. Contracts can include things like hangar leases, which the club negotiated with the airport sponsor to find a deal that works for both sides.

Hangar 50 is big enough to hold multiple projects, and one day an airworthy airplane the members can use to build time at an affordable rate. It leaks, it’s hot, it’s cold, the electrical system is spotty – but the rent is $1 a year. A start-up can afford $1 a year. 

There are trade-offs to be made as a corporation grows. No regrets. This is where the path to ultimate success starts.

In one year the AAAC has transitioned from an idea to a recognized corporate entity with IRS tax exempt status. They have members and enough money in the bank to meet their immediate needs, which are admittedly and intentionally limited. They’ve got projects on the hangar floor, and a solid plan for expansion that will eventually lead to a new, larger, far more appropriate hangar space with offices and classrooms.

This is a process that could be replicated anywhere in America. A single individual with a drive to make a difference, a few hundred dollars to cover filing fees, and a desire to serve a population of interested newbies is all you need. It’s been done elsewhere. It can be done in your town, too. 

The only real question is, will someone in your town pick up the idea and run with it? I sincerely hope someone does. It’s worth the effort. Oh, yes, it is.