A long time ago, somewhere north of 45 years, I started working at my second job as an aircraft mechanic in one of the manufacturing plants in Wichita Kansas. The first one went away when I, and hundreds of others, were near to finishing up the government Air Force project we had all been working on. The pink slips would soon be flowing. Since I was far down on the seniority list, I would be one of the first ones out the door. So I bailed out before the stampede.
I got very lucky and the second job wasn't working on the production line hammering in endless lines of rivets. I was posted to the Sheep Shed, the hangar where the company's experimental and custom-ordered airplanes were assembled or modified. Among the things I put a wrench to during my time there was a new trainer for the US Navy, a radar jamming missile for the Air Force, and turning civilian twin-engined turboprop airplanes into camera ships. I was, by far, the youngest and least experienced technician in the building. So they teamed me up with one of the older hands. Everyone called him KATO. One word. No first name. No last name. No initials. It was the name on his ID badge. It was the name on his toolbox and paycheck. No one ever called him anything else. He had started working for the company back in WWII, building ailerons for fighter planes. Rumor had it his seniority number was so high that the CEO of the company would get a pink slip before he would.
The first thing he did was show me how to make a special "company" screwdriver. With an overall length of 18 inches, a fat non-skid handle, and interchangeable tips, it offers up a massive amount of torque. I carried it for the rest of my career and, in fact, it is here on First Light.
KATO was an absolute wizard of a mechanic. I once saw him buck a hard to reach -10 rivet with a nickel taped to his finger. For those that don't know what that means, those that do will likely tell you it is impossible. But I was pulling the trigger on the rivet gun while KATO kept telling me to “Hit it boy. Hit it harder. Don't be shy.” Metal work, hydraulics, electrical, landing gear, pneumatics, air conditioning, rigging...the only thing KATO wouldn't touch was an engine. According to him engine work was for mechanics. He was a “technician”. He was also the most relentlessly cheerful man I have ever known.
One of my first jobs with KATO was a camera install in a twin turboprop. That mod included cutting a hole in the bottom of the fuselage for the camera to look through. The whole apparatus was sealed so the aircraft could still be pressurized for high altitude flight. (It is a pretty good bet that, if you live in the US, you have had your picture taken by an aircraft modified for photo work.) Part of that mod meant fabricating new air conditioning lines to be rerouted around the camera. It was a pretty involved job. Once the air conditioning system was reassembled it had to be charged with freon. That included pulling a vacuum on the system and checking it for leaks. With all the lines assembled and connected, we started the pump and watched the gauge. After a while the gauge was still bouncing around indicating a leak. Since KATO didn't say anything I didn't either A while longer and it was still bouncing around. This time I mentioned it. "Patience" was KATO's only response. After a while longer, with gages still bouncing, I suggested we surely had a leak somewhere, one that was likely to be very difficult to trace down and repair. KATO looked at me, smiled, and taught me a life lesson right there in that hanger.
“Boy, you gotta look at the good side 'till you're SURE you can't do that no more.”
A little while later, the gage settled down, we added the freon, and the job was done.
I have carried KATO's words, and his smiling, gleeful voice, around with me for decades. They have echoed around in my head as we have struggled to get First Light closer to home. Even wishing that things had gone smoother would have had KATO looking at me funny. We are handling the problems and making the best choices we can. I live on a boat with the love of my life and best friend of more than 50 years. We are traveling, seeing new places, meeting people. If he could, I suspect KATO would look at me now, smile, and say “See? Told you so.”
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