American Scene

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IN FLORIDA: OLD BIRDS FLY AGAIN ON A SPARKLING WEEKEND DOWN IN FLORIDA, SOME PEOPLE WHO CARE PASSIONATELY FOR WORLD WAR II AIRPLANES -- "WARBIRDS," THE DEVOTEES CALL THEM -- PUT ON A SHOW. ON FRIDAY THE P-51S AND THE C-46S AND THE B-25 BOMBERS CAME RUMBLING INTO TITUSVILLE OUT OF A FLAWLESS SKY (YOUR FAVORITE PAINT-AND-FENDER MAN COULDN'T SPRAY A BETTER ONE), AND ON SATURDAY 13,000 PEOPLE PAID TO WATCH THEM ALL FLY. IT WAS A SWEET, INNOCENT EXERCISE, FOR THE CROWD AS WELL AS THE PILOTS, AND NOSTALGIA CLUNG TO THE AIR LONG AFTER THE LAST LANDING,

LIKE A VAPOR TRAIL.

Not to make too much of it -- after all, elsewhere in the land, philatelists no doubt gathered, and show-dog owners, possessors of spinning wheels, antique crockery, vintage automobiles or sows that would fetch blue ribbons at any county fair -- but the Titusville event swept you back and held you stuck in time through the course of an afternoon (Why does the word stirring come uncharacteristically to mind?). Any sucker for a Zippo lighter, a cracked leather flight jacket, the music of Glenn Miller or the recollection of a sassy riveter with a mouth like a beesting would have found peace in this field.

"They say every dog has his day," said retired Lieut. Colonel Richard E. Cole of San Antonio. "Well, we had ours." Cole was one of the Army airmen who flew with James H. Doolittle on April 18, 1942. That was the day the U.S. put 16 B-25s over Tokyo and four other Japanese cities in a raid that did little damage but -- pardon the French -- boosted the hell out of post- Pearl Harbor morale. "My wife is always saying 'What's wrong with you?' " Cole went on. "You see, every time I hear a B-25 or a C-147, I know what it is. It has something to do with the inner ear, I guess."

The show, sponsored by the Valiant Air Command, one of several nonprofit organizations in the country whose aim is to restore and maintain historic aircraft, had hoped to re-create the Doolittle raid by getting 16 B-25s off the ground at Titusville. "Folks, we really tried," apologized an announcer, Ted Anderson. "At the moment, there aren't 16 flyable B-25s in America." In the end, they got seven up.

Were it not for a tendency toward improvidence among a certain slice of our society, the seven would not have flown. Consider the name of one: Chapter XI. According to Julie Moore, the "wrench," or mechanic, on Chapter XI, the bomber burns 150 gallons of gasoline an hour, and a quart or two of oil. Taking maintenance into account, she estimates the operating cost at $650 an hour. A co-owner with her husband Jack Moore, an emergency-room physician in Sarasota and a former naval flight surgeon, she proudly displays her simple silver wedding band. "You will notice no diamonds," she said, saying further that "Jack and I joke that other doctors in Sarasota spend $200 a week eating out. We don't, and this is why." She swept an arm grandly back toward the gleaming old bird, and just then an aficionado approached with a world of esoteric inquiries.

"I don't use Nevr-Dull," the inquisitor volunteered at one point, as they got off on the burnishing side of life. "I use Simichrome polish."

"Do you know how much that costs?" Julie Moore said, watching her pennies. "Besides, Nevr-Dull doesn't scratch."

"Metal All will scratch unless you use a high-speed buffer."

"Alumin-Nu is good."