Dropping in on Mr. Fishburn

by Christy Huddle

Editor's note: Most of us usually do not get to see the gracious landowners of our LZs, much less get to know them. So, I asked Christy to drop in on Mr. Fishburn to see if he was amenable to telling us a little about himself. Mr. Fishburn is the long time owner of one of our oldest and most popular sites – Woodstock. Leave it to Christy to take the "dropping in on" literally. Here's the story. It is quite interesting. Who knew Mr. Fishburn had such an interesting life? I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I did.

It was my first soaring flight in four months and already my hands were getting too cold for comfort. I was 3K over Woodstock launch and wondering what to do with all the altitude when I thought, "Why not drop in on Mr. Fishburn." So I pointed the glider towards Woodstock and headed out.

There was plenty of lift and I had no trouble working out to Water Street. I turned left and headed south toward Tandem, the full care facility next to the hospital on the south end of town. I'd been to visit Mr. Fishburn several times already so I knew exactly where the place was and even thought maybe, if I came in low enough as I flew by, and if he happened to be looking out the window of his room which faced the mountain, he might even see me.

Landing at the hospital
The big dirt patch behind his building looked pretty small as I cruised past about a thousand feet over the ground. I briefly contemplated executing a landing right there, but the power lines along the road and the rough topography from all the site grading caused me to opt for the big field at the intersection of Water Street and Rt. 42. Rt. 42 is the road you'd be on if you took the Woodstock exit instead of the Tom's Brook exit.

I landed, bagged the glider and harness, turned down a ride to the base of the mountain, hid my glider in the tall grass, shouldered my harness, and walked over to Tandem. I went in through the back where that big dirt patch was and could see that it would have been possible, but not much fun.

Mr. Fishburn was dozing when I walked in so I woke him up and told him I'd flown in to see him. He stood up to give me a big hug and I told him all about my flight. And, no, he wasn't looking out the window as I flew past.

A full life
We chatted about what all he'd done the past 87 years. He's had a pretty full life, so it makes for some interesting talk. Here is some of what he told me (with some help from his daughter Lynn).

It was 1914 when Mr. Fishburn was born in the town of Moscow, Idaho. If you're not too familiar with that state, the town of Moscow is north of Boise and was not named for that other Moscow, but for the native American tribe called Masco. From there the family moved to Casper, Wyoming, then Roanoke, Virginia, and finally Cushing, Oklahoma. His father was a chemist who worked a lot with the petroleum industry.

Mr. Fishburn had two younger brothers, one of whom flew fighter planes in World War II (and was shot down over Germany and taken prisoner) and also flew jets in the Korean war. The youngest brother had a big city advertising job.

A wedding
After high school in Cushing, Mr. Fishburn moved on to the University of Oklahoma for undergraduate school and then on to Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy and a part of Tufts University, where he received a graduate degree in international relations and where he met and charmed Fredelle, one of the few coeds in the program. They were married in 1938 after graduation from Fletcher.

Argentina, Uruguay, DC, and Woodstock
His first job was with the State Department as an economic advisor and he then became an expert in labor relations. He was unable to serve during World War II because of the diabetes, but as a member of the State Department, he was stationed in Argentina and Uruguay. He and his wife returned to the DC area after the war and adopted their daughter Lynn in 1948. This was also when he bought the farm in along the South Fork of the Shenandoah River in Woodstock.

During his stay in the DC area, they would drive out to the farm for weekends, staying in the old spring house which is the small building to the north of the farmhouse closest to the landing field. Life on the farm for them was simple and they loved it. Mr. Fishburn showed me the double seat outhouse they used back in those days. It's still in great condition, though the mice have been nibbling on the roll of toilet paper.

The family returned to South America, this time to Brazil, in 1957. His last overseas assignment was in Switzerland during the mid 60s, after which he took early retirement (1970) and he and his wife made the farm their permanent home. They had the new house built at this time. Fredelle passed away on January 1, 1990, and was buried in the woods just west of the field where we land. She and Mr. Fishburn had enjoyed over 51 years of life together.

Another wedding
In 1992, Mr. Fishburn married Betsy. A longtime Woodstock resident, Betsy has been familiar with hang gliding long before moving to the farm. She and her first husband Wayne used to spend lots of holidays at Kitty Hawk.

Early pilots
If you're ever been on the back porch of Mr. Fishburn's house, you can see that he has a good view of pilots coming in for a landing. Although he can't see the touchdown if it's too far down the slope, he's seen enough to be able to distinguish a good landing from a bad one. I asked Mr. Fishburn if he could recall when the first time a hang glider pilot landed in his field. He remembered it clearly, although he couldn't recall the pilot's name. He said the pilot later had a midair at Kitty Hawk and died. I asked him how he felt about having hang gliders land on his field and he said he welcomed it. At first he was worried about the pilots upsetting the cows, but, he said, "eventually the cows got used to the pilots." And, I might add, some pilots got used to the cow -- patties.

When I asked Mr. Fishburn about the funniest incident he could remember, he described the time a pilot came in too high and passed over the fence next to the house. He didn't say which house or remember the name of the pilot, but in any case, it was a pilot who certainly needed to work on his landing approaches.

The most upsetting landing he witnessed was that of an old timer, maybe 65 years of age, who had brought his poor wife along. The old timer pilot had bad knees, probably made worse by a very bad landing. He stayed in the field for an hour, recovering from it.

Mr. Fishburn said he'd seen quite a few pilots go into the trees around the landing field and even mentioned a well known instructor who would bring his students here for first high flights and who ended up having to pluck some of those students out of the trees.