AIR DOUG

You had to call Sheriff Doug Hendry a good pilot. Meaning his number of landings equalled his number of take-offs. No crashes. Yet, some of those who flew with him might take exception with that evaluation. And, in fairness, Doug was Evil Knieval in a cockpit.

I worked up the nerve to fly with Doug twice. No, that's not exactly true. Doug told me I was gonna fly with him twice. You didn't argue with E.A.

The first time we were trying to locate a Signal-10, stolen car, that'd been dumped in the woods off Airport Road. The thief had described where it was, but we couldn't find it. Doug decided we'd locate it by air, and Chuck Whidden would take our directions and lead the ground search team. Doug put his big paw on my shoulder and said, "It's your car. let's go."

It was a city case, but the CCSO had caught the perp. We worked very closely together in those days. Strength in numbers. So, I couldn't very well refuse without sniveling and groveling and begging in plain sight, so, trapped I climbed in the little Cessna and we were soon over the scene. 

The car was easy to spot from the air and we tried to explain to Chuck how to get there. But the path was a bit convoluted and Doug finally announced over the radio, "I'm gonna spiral down over where it is. Let me know soon as you can figure out where I'm pointing to."

That said he dipped the nose of the plane, and began a corkscrew spiral over the area. We kept getting lower and lower. Nothing from Chuck. Still closer to the tree tops. I began searching for a parachute or some toilet paper. Still nothing. Finally, to keep from screaming in terror, I gasped, "Isn't there a limit how far you can dive down like this and still pull out of it?"

"Yup," Doug said.

"And how far is that?" I wheezed. 

"Oh, hell, we got another 20, 25 feet left." Then, he laughed and pulled the plane up, the engine shuddering nearly as bad as my body. Had I not asked, and allowed him to give his punch line, I'm convinced we would have made a much bigger impression on our target.

Another time, we were looking for an escaped prisoner in the Naples Manor area. Neither we, nor the ground search team were having any luck. Doug decided we needed to regroup. "I'm gonna take 'er down," he announced and I anticipated a turn toward the airport. Not so. He was gonna land it on the streets in Naples Manor.

Still silently cursing myself for being fool enough to go for a second ride with him, I asked, "What about those power lines down there?"

"No problem," Doug drawled, "you just fly over some and under the others."

And damned if he didn't.