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PROFILES
Doreen Hillard
May 9, 1998
Hangar doors rumbling over cold, steel tracks, 100 octane splashing
into an empty fuel tank, the feel of the unicom mike cupped in her
hand—these memories evoke childhood for Doreen Hillard.
Today, in Fort Worth, she is a pilot, businesswoman, parent and involved
aviation board member and volunteer. Growing up she was a ramp rat—a
working kid at the little airport her father ran in Upper Michigan.
“At the time I thought I was so disadvantaged,” she says.
But now she looks back fondly on her rich experience.
“Our dad was airport manager, fixed base operator, flight instructor,
airplane mechanic--you name it. He was a one-man-show. He was always
at the airport.
“There were six girls in our family and our mom sent us out
there on weekends and every day during the summer, so we would get
to know him.
“We did everything at the hangar. We swept the floors, cleaned
up oil spots, helped connect fuel lines, and slung mail sacks when
the Beech 18 delivered the mail,” she says. “We even started
a little business polishing and waxing airplanes for people.
“We learned to operate the radio. We were really young sounding
in our teens. Someone would call in and might wonder if they should
trust the voice on the other end—a 15-year-old girl! But, our
dad was emphatic.
“‘People’s lives are in your hands,’ he said.
‘So, when you read the wind indicator, be sure you know exactly
what you are doing. Take your time and be articulate on the radio.’
It was really fun to have that kind of responsibility and accountability
at that age,” she says.
All the daughters got flying lessons from their dad. He was tough,
but he also loved to have fun—sometimes at their expense.
One of his jobs was flying at 1,000 feet doing fire patrol for the
Forest Service. He let his daughters fly with him when they had earned
the privilege.
Often it was windy, hot and turbulent. That was when the fire hazard
was greatest. The girls learned to handle queasiness and fighting
up and down drafts.
Sometimes their dad napped. Sometimes he just pretended to nap.
One day the Cherokee 140 started descending while Doreen was flying.
She pulled back, but it wouldn’t climb. “I remember thinking
‘I’m going to handle this down draft,’” she
says. She sweated and pulled harder, but the plane continued down
toward the woods. The elevator was heavy. She pulled with both hands.
Finally her father burst out laughing. He was a big man and he had
his foot stretched up, under the panel. While she struggled to climb,
he pressed the elevator pulley with his toes. Meanwhile, he watched
the ground and her reaction through his eyelashes.
He did the same thing to one of her sisters, but she screamed, “Dad,
Dad! Take over! We’re gonna crash!”
Another time, the day he scheduled her second solo he invited a huge
audience to watch--his buddies, their friends, boys from her class
in high school.
“First we flew together,” she says. “Then I taxied
up to the gas pump to drop him off. When I tried to taxi back out,
the plane wouldn’t budge. He stared at me with this really confused
look, like What’s wrong with you?” He gave me hand signals--Did
you check the parking brake? Give it more throttle, and all that.
Finally he got really disgusted and ran his finger across his neck—Cut
the engine. So I did.
“He got in, taxied in a circle and said, ‘What the hell’s
the matter with you? There is nothing wrong with this thing.’
“After being his daughter for 16 years you start to figure
it out. I opened the door and peeked out. Sure enough, there were
two ramp jockeys hanging onto the tail.”
Naturally Doreen met her husband at an airport. He was Charlie Hillard,
leader of the Eagles Aerobatic Team. When they married she moved to
Texas, where they operated Hillard Auto Park in Ft. Worth.
Charlie always wanted Doreen and their children, Ryan and Heather,
to be at his air shows. Early on she followed him in her Mooney.
One day she was flying with a bunch of air show pilots from Oshkosh
to Eau Claire. She had an autopilot and the best radios, so she was
out front. Compared to the guys following her, she was a rookie.
One of them started griping.
“Charlie, don’t you think she’s going too far north?
Charlie, don’t you think…?” one little thing after
another.
To heck with this, she thought.
“I was throttled back, but when I had finally I had it I went
to normal cruise. Charlie said, ‘Dorito! Where are you going?’
“When I didn’t answer he told the other pilot, ‘I
think you ticked her off.’
“I went ahead, landed, taxied up in front of the hangar, got
out the cooler of beer and cracked open a Budweiser. I was miffed.
Two old guys came hobbling out of the hangar in hysterics. One of
them said, ‘I’ll be damned! Lady pilot taxies up and drinks
a beer before she gets off the wing of her airplane!’ They took
my picture sitting on the wing.”
Doreen’s mother sent her to the airport to get to know her
dad. Doreen took her own children to air shows for the same reason.
When she was little she napped under her dad’s desk in his office.
Her children napped under the Eagle’s wing while the Blue Angels
roared overhead.
When Charlie died in a freak landing accident in 1996, in his Sea
Fury, he and Doreen had a fleet of airplanes and were both involved
in many aviation projects. She still is. She is an EAA Oshkosh volunteer
and a board member for both the International Council of Air Shows
Foundation and the Aviation Heritage Museum in Ft. Worth.
The airplane fleet is whittled down to her favorite few machines.
One of them is the Piper Clipper Charlie gave her for their fifth
wedding anniversary. It is the same one she and her sisters helped
their dad restore when they were kids.
Airports, airplanes and aviators have always been a part of Doreen’s
life. One way or another she will have a lifelong place among them.
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