Writer

Mark Phelps

I wasn’t really sure what to expect as I sat waiting in the FBO. Randy Green and I had sealed a deal on my 1954 V-tail Bonanza via email and phone calls last summer, and I was delivering it to him at an airport halfway between our homes.

 


I still remember our second or third phone conversation when he told me what makes him pretty unusual as pilots go. “You see, I was born without hands or feet. But I’ve been flying since I was 17. A lot of that time was in V-tail Bonanzas, with my dad.” No doubt, Green’s used to it, having delivered that bombshell more than a few times to people who hadn’t met him in person, including potential employers. I probably reacted similarly to the way most people do–with a few seconds of awkward silence.

 


Green, age 42, has a pocketful of ratings, including instrument, commercial, multi-engine and instructor. But he was still a personal flyer when we met. That has since changed. He recently called to tell me he now flies for a living. He just accepted a job as the company pilot for Stuart B. Millner and Associates, a Union, Mo. company that specializes in liquidating assets for construction and mining companies. Green flies executives around the country in a Cessna 421 piston twin to conduct presentations, sign contracts and sometimes oversee the resulting auctions. According to its website, Millner has recovered billions of dollars for struggling companies and their investors.

 


When asked how he flies an airplane without hands, Randy replies, “The same way anyone else does, only better.” While some of that is bravado, what he also means is that he’s adapted by performing tasks sequentially that other pilots may perform simultaneously, so he has to be more on top of his flying and procedures. According to Dave Dewhirst, one of his instructor pilots in the 421, Randy’s sequential style is often superior to other pilots’ multi-tasking, including executing emergency procedures. Asked if he would be comfortable sitting in the back seat with Green flying, Dewhirst told the Wichita Eagle newspaper, “I’d not only ride in the back seat. I’d go to sleep.”

 


When Green saw the listing for this new job, he told Millner right away about his disability. Apparently, his new boss did not see it as an issue. At the time, Millner was a bit conflicted on what was going to happen with the big Cessna twin. Green told me, “The airplane was actually up for sale, and was hangared with a broker in Wichita.” Did Green have anything to do with him changing his mind about selling, I asked. “Nah, I think Stuart just got tired of driving,” said Green.

 


The new-hire pilot drove to Wichita for the training dictated by the insurance company, and the broker connected him with Dewhirst and two other instructor pilots, who were equally impressed with their student, and vocal. Green became a mini-celebrity around the airport, and the Wichita Eagle published a feature story on him. He said, “It got so people would see me around and say, ‘Are you that guy?’”

 


Bittersweet Memory

 


Green’s flying history started with his late father, and since his dad’s death, their trips in the family Bonanza are a bittersweet memory for Green. He learned to use rubber bands to secure his left wrist to the yoke. He also developed specialty tools for certain tasks, such as a scooper for picking up things that fall on the floor, and a Swiss Army-like pair of pliers for manipulating circuit breakers. For anyone who doubts his ability to fly, he just points out the signatures on all his FAA certificates and ratings. His love of flight has been his guidance and his determination has been the engine. Green repeated his motto for me, “If my mind can conceive it, I’m going to achieve it.”

 


Buying my Bonanza was one of those achievements. It had taken years of scrimping and saving, and even at a depressed market price (that still makes me cringe a little), getting back into a Bonanza was going to be a big financial commitment for him. I knew delivery day was not going to be a happy one for me; my last flight in an airplane I’d owned for almost 15 years. But some of the bitter taste in my mouth was sweetened by knowing it was going to such a good home.

 


It was a hot day when we met at the airport. Randy had driven up with his wife and family. Tanya would be driving the pickup back south with her mother-in-law and the kids, and I’d be riding home on a train. The Bonanza and I got there first. Pretty soon, Randy walked into the FBO, we shook hands and within minutes we were just two Bonanza lovers swapping tidbits about weight-and-balance envelopes; starting procedures; and the best bets for hard-to-find spare parts.

 


The deal was contingent on Randy looking over the airplane to be assured it was “as represented.” I couldn’t help being curious to see how he would work the door handle, let alone operate the vernier throttle and all those piano-key switches. Needless to say, I was impressed with the dexterity he showed with his partial hands and prosthetic feet. Pulling himself up onto the wing, he told me, “This used to be a lot easier, back when I was slimmer.”

 


He gave the vintage V-tail a good going-over. And then, wiping back a tear alongside a wide smile, he turned to his wife and said, “Honey, looks like we have us an airplane.”

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