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Allan Hancock About 35 years ago I had the unique good fortune of spending about an hour with Captain Hancock's former science adviser and this man told me things that I found very impressive. Captain Allan Hancock was a brilliant man, an adventurer, a scientist and a true patriot who used his wealth in the service of his country and who's legacy endures at Hancock College and the Marian Medical Center. Together with the renown geologist, William Orcutt, he revolutionized Pleistocene Geology and brought California's extinct saber tooth cats, Mammoths and hundreds of other strange and wonderful creatures out of his tar pits and into museums. Allan Hancock's title 'Captain' was honorary and it was bestowed on him because, among other polymath interests, he commanded a large seagoing oceanographic ship. His scientific interests took in everything on land, on the sea and especially in the air. Captain Hancock was a man very much like Howard Hughes only he was much more down to earth.

To say the least, he was a man of real substance rather than a lot of show. Like Hughes, he was an enthusiastic promoter of aviation and early on he recognized the importance of trained aviators to our country's defense. Immediately before World War Two began he unsuccessfully lobbied the government regarding the need for pilots to man the war planes he knew would be needed for the war.

Roland Dyens Night And Day Rare. Even after the war began he could not get immediate funding to begin a primary flight training school on the West Coast, so, with his own money, he began the flight school at Hancock Field. During World War Two, thousands of student pilots received their primary flight training at Hancock Field and, in its heyday, it was an extremely busy place, vital to America's war effort. By the way, back around 1979 or so, when I was active in ham radio, I had a wonderful conversation with another ham radio operator on the 80 meter band. I can't remember where he lived, but I think it was San Diego, CA.

I was really pleased to learn that he had been a student at the Hancock Flying Field during WW 2, so I told him that I lived within spitting distance of the place and had played there as a kid. He told me how he had arrived by train at the Guadalupe Station, but had to wait a couple of hours before the trolley would take him the 12 miles to Santa Maria and then on to Hancock Field. With hours to kill, my friend went into a bar to have a beer and while away the time. Most of the bars then and now are Mexican there in Guadalupe and of course this one had a big portrait of some very important looking Mexican President.

My friend then says to the bartender ' so, when did he get assassinated?' Well, that was the wrong thing to say in a rough town like Guadalupe (still is), so after a very angry exchange of words, my friend was chased out of the bar and had to run for his life with a gang of angry Mexicans after him. He then hid in terror while the patrons of the bar went looking for him. Finally the trolley to Santa Maria arrived, my friend ran out of his hiding place, made a beeline for the car and rode it the 12 miles to his new life as a student pilot.

We didn't have time before the 80 meter band collapsed and ended our conversation (called a QSO) for him to tell me of any of his wartime experiences as a pilot, but obviously he was one of the lucky ones who survived the War. Queen Fan Club Magazines Pdf Free. Hancock Flying Field Junk Pile, circa 1958 The Flight School operated there at Hancock Field all throughout the war, but by the mid 1950s, the need for primary flight training had decreased substantially and government funding of the school had run out. Sadly, the old field and its associated flight school had lost its original purpose and something new had to be found for its facilities, but such a change takes time.

Even as late as 1958, there were still aircraft parked on Hancock Field. As they were dismantling the flying field and getting it ready to turn it into today's Allan Hancock Junior College, the workers created wonderful piles of period junk. For a kid like me, rooting through this stuff was 'hog heaven' and no 'pig in shit' was happier than me going through the junk piles. You see, by 1958 my dad had retired from the Navy and we were living in a house not a quarter mile from the Allan Hancock Flying Field. What a wonderful adventure it was to sneak over to Hancock Field, go through their trash and fish out the most marvelous stuff. What was even more marvelous was sneaking inside one of the multi engined observation aircraft that were being dismantled right on the runway.