Ben Ryan Autobiography

Early Years

      I was born in Belleflower, California in 1923. My father was an oilfield worker and wildcatter. Mother graduated from college at age seventeen with an engineering degree from Penn State University. Teaching was her first career but much later, she went into the contracting business. At one time was the only woman in California to hold a license as a Class A General Engineering Contractor.

      I have one sister five years older. She retired as a Department Head at the University of South Carolina and still lives there. I also have a half brother living in Texas. He is considerably younger than me. He was a helicopter pilot in Vietnam, despite the fact that he did not graduate from high school.

      My family moved to Three Forks, Montana, in the summer of 1931 where my father drilled a wildcat well that turned up dry. It was his norm to roughneck it in the oil fields until he earned enough money to finance another wildcat well.

      I was introduced to airplanes in the summer of ’32 or’33. Two airplanes landed on the airfield at the north edge of town. The arrival of the planes attracted most of the town’s boys. Because I was the smallest boy, the pilot of the twin Lockheed boosted me up on his shoulder to retrieve the mail pouch from the nose baggage compartment. This was a one-time event for Three Forks.

      The family moved to Livingston in 1936 where my father drilled several wildcat wells southeast of town and worked as a roughneck in other oil fields. All his wildcat wells were dry, but I did pan an ounce of gold out of the drill cuttings. I graduated from high school in 1940. I worked on oil wells until the fall of ’41, when I entered Stanford University. My sister had gone to college there, and Stanford had a good geology school. If you were in the petroleum-engineering program, the university waived the required foreign language courses, which at that time would have been in German.

Military Years

      While I was at Stanford, I enlisted in the Army Reserve for training as an aviation cadet. In May of 1943 the Army called me to active duty. A year later, after finishing my advanced training at Williams air base near Phoenix, I earned my wings. The Army, for publicity reasons, flew my mother (then a WAC corporal) out from Los Angeles to pin on my wings. I was surprised to see her on the stage and I was the first graduate to get my wings, ahead of all the others. No other graduate received this special treatment. Apparently, this was written up in the LA papers and afterward I received several letters from young ladies whom I had never met.

      I joined the 32^nd Fighter Squadron in September 1944, flying on patrol from the Canal Zone. The planes were already in Panama. Each squadron consisted of eighteen planes, four echelons of four planes each plus planes for Commanding Officer and Operations officer. We flew P-39s until the following spring when we changed to the P-38. The P-39 was very light on the controls and a joy to fly on the deck. But with its high wing loading, it was a dog above 15,000’. The P-38 was fast and very maneuverable. Its only drawback was its tendency to tuck under in a high-speed dive. The plane was red lined at 450 miles per hour. I named my P-38 the “Jolly Roger” and this was painted on the forward side of the fuselage.

      In August, 1945, I met a cute little Army nurse on a blind date. Her name was Agnes Butchkosky, affectionately known as “Butchie.” She was on a hospital ship that was broken down in the Panama Canal for several weeks. Butchie grew up near Hazelton, PA and did nursing work in New York City hospitals before enlisting in the Army Nurse Corps.  After a nine-month courtship, we were married in Denver in June 8, 1946.  Read More>>

Sharing Special Places With Special People

I’ve been flying throughout MT with my father since my earliest memories as a child and have been flying throughout the state and elsewhere since I was 17. Like all aviator fathers, I search out opportunities to share that passion with my kids. This weekend for me posed the most fortunate opportunity to collage an experience and set of memories, I believe, that not even the grips of something like Alzheimer’s could steal.

I’d been planning on attending the MT Schafer Meadow work session since early spring, and the initial plan was that only I would be able to attend. In the early a.m on the departure date my oldest son, 11 years old, was getting quite stirred that I was going camping and was persistently indicating he wanted to come too. He began packing a bag and before I knew it was in the truck on his way to go airplane camping with his father in Schafer Meadow.

Schafer Meadow, Great Bear Wilderness, Bob Marshall Complex, MT

Now to preface: My oldest son was born with Down Syndrome and has never liked airplanes. We had attempted endless times since he was a wee little boy just to get him to sit in an airplane let alone fly in one. We took him on a trip to Idaho three years ago and it led to having to land in McCall and getting a hotel room as he was terrified by flying in slight turbulence. Needless to say this was the first time he had willingly been near or flown in an airplane since.

Dothan prepares for Departure

This trip was a new beginning for Dothan. He was excited to open the hangar door, load the airplane, and he even independently jumped into the passenger seat and said “LETS GO DAD”. Heck, I was so amazed that I forgot to check the baggage door and had to stop on the ramp to close it. When in route to Schafer we once again encountered some slight turbulence and Dothan proceeded to look over at me and said “ITS ALRIGHT DAD”, wow!! In the eleven years with our son I wouldn’t trade any of them and this was surely one of those joyful moments that brought a tear to your eye.  

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RAF Featured Member Carmine Mowbray

If there was ever an individual who epitomizes volunteerism for the Recreational Aviation Foundation, it is Carmine Mowbray, from Polson, Montana. She has volunteered her time to publish the RAF Newsletter, sent out press releases and RAF Briefs, worked on the pilot shelter at Ryan Field, swung a Pulaski cutting sage brush at a Missouri Breaks airstrip and staffed the RAF booth at trade shows.

Carmine is a native of western Washington, moving to Montana in 1973. She and her husband became involved in the printing business, starting small and growing to a regional printing plant serving much of western Montana, along with a small chain of award-winning weekly newspapers. For nearly two decades they flew a Turbo Lance to manage their six locations around Montana. At the same time they were raising four very lively children, all of whom have gone on to Montana Universities. They sold the publishing enterprise to a larger chain in 2000. At that time the Mowbray’s company employed 50 people.

Not one to be idle, Carmine has pursued many interests. She has served on a local bank advisory board for five years and taught motorcycle safety for ten years. She now serves on the local Polson hospital board, the Flathead Lakers board (a regional water quality advocacy organization), is active in the community summer theater,  produced an award winning radio show for Montana Public Radio, has written her first historical novel for younger readers, and does portrait art work. To top this all off, she has just finished her first term in the Montana Senate where, she says, “It’s a real honor and very stimulating to be surrounded with 49 type-A workaholics who love to argue. ”

Carmine now owns an older model Cessna 182 equipped with a three blade prop and a Sportsman STOL. “I can reach some outstanding places with this plane. By supporting the RAF we can all work together to maintain the destinations we all are privileged to use. ” Carmine says, “I would give up lattes, the beauty shop and even shoes to keep on flying. ”

If you are out in the backcountry and see Carmine with her blue and white Cessna 182, stop for a minute and tell her thanks for all she does for the RAF.