Airline Pilots Called It ‘Rolling the Dice’

After typing a couple of paragraphs, it took a moment to realize that the topic I had originally intended for this column had disappeared. Instead, the words I had written became a trigger for reflection, which is not a process I often entertain.

The reflection involved decisions that significantly affected the trajectory of my career path. Perhaps the insight will help guide those following in similar footsteps.

For me and my colleagues, the phrase “rolling the dice” meant it was a gamble as to what airline would prove to be a successful career choice. The same is true today and will be tomorrow. It doesn’t matter whether an aspiring pilot enters an airline-sponsored ab initio program that has a direct career path or climbs the aviation employment ladder from the outside. No one can predict an airline’s prosperity and how a pilot’s advancement through the ranks will be affected over the years.

In this column, I’ll encapsulate my own dice rolling throughout my airline career. First and foremost, at 6 years old, American Airlines became my chosen employer simply because my spirited mother had heralded me into the cockpit of a Lockheed Electra, whereupon I received a certificate that entitled me to an interview 20 years later with the company’s chief pilot. The certificate was signed by the captain.

To this day, I think it was a class act for the airline to consider their future pilots. My parents, who thought airplane flying was probably a dangerous occupation, quietly wrung their hands, hoping it would just wither away as a childhood fantasy. It didn’t.

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Perhaps age 6 was atypical for committing to a career path, but if today’s airline pilot chooses ab initio training sponsored by a major carrier, essentially the dice has been rolled. Granted, that pilot can elect to apply elsewhere, but the change of heart may involve more competition and possibly a financial liability in regard to student loans. 

As a side note, my dream airline pursuit wasn’t done in a vacuum. I did my research. It was also a real possibility that I would have to accept employment elsewhere.

Another dice roll involved my choice of education. At that time—the middle 1970s—a four-year degree was a must in order to compete against other airline pilot applicants, notwithstanding the traditional American belief that college was the background for success in all endeavors. My search involved universities with flight schools. Two remained as the final contenders.

Although Purdue University had accepted me into their management program, my out-of-state B-plus grade-point average wasn’t quite smart enough for the limited enrollment of the flight program. Whereas Southern Illinois University (SIU) had welcomed me with open arms. But two weeks before freshman orientation, with boxes and bags labeled for an Illinois address, I changed course. 

At the time (50 years ago), SIU’s flight training was more like an elective than a major, with some of the academics selected in an a la carte fashion. Today, SIU has an enviable aviation program. Although no guarantees were given for becoming a general flight technology student (GFT), I felt Purdue had more structure and was more established.

My first semester at Purdue included bike rides from campus out to the airport, where I diplomatically made myself known to the GFT department head. Fate alone wasn’t going to decide my career. I’m certain the eventual acceptance into the flight program was either the result of sympathy or the best solution to end my relentless airport visits.

Upon graduation from Purdue, I returned home to continue my employment as a flight instructor. The dice were rolled again. Within months I literally charted a course to knock on doors of commuter and charter airlines in the Northeast. Good fortune was on my side, because Chautauqua Airlines in Jamestown, New York, was my first and only stop. I was interviewed and hired as a Beech 99 copilot. The job was a game changer. Turbine time would soon be in my logbook and on my résumé.

Unfortunately, I experienced my first furlough with Chautauqua Airlines. Within a month, after days of research and phone calls, I was in a Twin Otter training class with Southern Jersey Airways (SJA), another Allegheny Commuter. The opportunity eventually put me in the left seat with an ATP certificate at 24, an accomplishment that I hadn’t expected until further down the road.

About three years into my employment at SJA, a colleague offered intel about openings for B-727 copilots. Making use of jumpseat privileges to hopscotch across the country, I arrived in McMinnville, Oregon, about 60 miles southwest of Portland. The objective was to literally knock on the chief pilot’s door of Evergreen International Airlines and request an interview. Rolled the dice. Knocked. Interviewed. Got the job. 

After about a month of training with Evergreen, and a rough start of transitioning from an airplane whose cruise speed was the same as the B-727 approach speed, I joined the cadre of shiny brown-and-white airplanes in Louisville, Kentucky. To compete with Federal Express, UPS had contracted with various cargo and on-demand charter carriers to begin its package air delivery service before the company operated its own airline. Aside from the attitude that airplanes were just trucks with wings, it was an opportunity of a lifetime.

Having maintained contact with a Wien Air Alaska captain that I met the day before our basic indoctrination started, I got a phone call less than a year into my Evergreen employment. The captain offered me an opportunity to interview for a B-727 flight engineer position. If I didn’t drool or pick my nose, most likely the job was mine, which was a welcome relief because American Airlines had turned me down for reasons I still don’t know until this day. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one, but it involved a glitch in the extensive medical testing part of the interview.

Unexpectedly, furloughs were announced at Wien about four months into my employment. Unexpectedly, American called me back to complete the interview process. Unexpectedly, Eastern Airlines had left a message on my answering machine, offering me a flight engineer position on the Airbus A300 shortly after I arrived home from the interview. Meanwhile, because of the furlough, I had been employed as the worst used Toyota car salesman in Seattle. 

Then the phone rang with the call of a lifetime. American was offering me a job. Rather than continue to decimate the business at the Toyota dealership, I asked for an earlier training class date. That roll of the dice placed me about 100 numbers ahead of other new hires.

The final roll of the dice came after much soul-searching. American had introduced B-scale pay rates, but Eastern had not. My reverence was always for American, and my gut told me that Eastern seemed to be on the precipice of serious financial problems. Two weeks into training at American, I turned down Eastern. Despite the turmoil created by two separate pay scales at the airline, I looked back only once. 

For 34 years, fate was on my side. I am grateful. Rolling the dice isn’t for the faint of heart.

This column first appeared in the July Issue 972 of the FLYING print edition.