Posted on 09/06/2007 3:00:58 PM PDT by WestTexasWend
WEBBERS FALLS (OK) — Paul Gould is a pilot in a career that could be flying into the sunset.
His dad was a crop duster; he didn't want the same for his son.
Paul loved the work too much. Still does, but worries at 49 who will take over when his heart gets weak or eyesight fuzzy.
With the culture of the American family farm changing, and the next generation of crop dusters reluctant to stay in a profession their fathers inherited from their grandfathers, the industry is at a crossroads.
Crop dusting, a job that is so much a part of Americana, is graying. The average pilot age is about 60 and more than three-fourths of operators have 16-70 years of experience, according to a survey by the Environmental Protection Agency. Ten to 15 years ago, there were around 4,000 crop dusting pilots. Today, the figure's is lower by 20 percent.
"I'm one of the younger ones,” Gould said, summing up the crisis.
As the decades-old industry takes stock of how it skipped a generation, it must compete for recruits with the commercial airlines, where the pay and hours are better.
Technology also has become a foe. Million-dollar planes can fly farther and haul more chemicals but have priced some mom-and-pops out of the business, some pilots say.
Genetically modified crops, such as worm-resistant corn, are also cutting into business in several states.
There's crop dusting's reputation as one of the most dangerous jobs in the U.S. because pilots must fly so low to the ground and navigate trees, power lines and other hazards.
"Right up there with rodeo bull-rider,” said Glenda Gould, the other half of Paul's operation.
Four-thirty a.m. and Paul's out of bed.
Fast, but not like it used to be, when a seven-day work week didn't ache as much and the jobs weren't so big.
Minutes later, he's behind the controls of the 1980 Piper Brave, the yellow beauty nicknamed "the dump truck.”
Then, the ritual: swooping insanely low to the ground, spraying, pulling up over acres of shoulder-high corn. An aerial ballet at 130 mph that still makes his wife cringe to watch it.
There's been a crop dusting business in Webbers Falls, an eastern Oklahoma town of 720, since 1949, and Gould's is the only operation for 100 miles.
It's not a question of the work. It's how long can he — and hundreds like him in the business — hold out until the next wave comes up. Five years? Ten?
He figures he can fly well into his 60s, maybe even 70, if he has to.
Fast, but not like it used to be.
These days, "you've got to look twice before you get in the business,” warns Jim Criswell, a professor in the department of entomology and plant pathology at Oklahoma State University.
To most Americans, their image of crop dusting is Cary Grant fleeing a low-flying plane in Alfred Hitchcock's "North by Northwest,” but this dirty, sweaty line of work began as an experiment 86 years ago in Ohio. Trying to get rid of pesky moth larvae, a two-seat plane called a Jenny dropped insecticide made with lead over the affected area. The environmental impact of using such toxins would not be realized until much later.
The industry flourished after World War II, as returning veterans found work during America's agricultural boom of the 1940s and 1950s. Surplus military planes were enlisted to do the jobs.
By the 1980s, most powdered chemicals were replaced with liquids, and the term "crop duster” fell out of fashion, replaced by "aerial applicator.” GPS systems in plane cockpits substituted for a pilot's guesswork.
Today, the greatest deterrent for a young pilot wanting to break into the business is how hard it is to get insured. A pilot needs 250 hours of flight time to get a commercial pilot's license, and up to 1,000 hours before a company insures them.
Enough claims can break a small business, since there are only a handful of companies in the U.S. that write policies for crop dusters.
So pilots in training must start out with the tedious work on the ground — cleaning and loading planes — and work their way up into the air.
"That's probably where we've fallen down as much as anything, we have probably raised the entrance barriers high,” said pilot Rod Thomas, who co-owns a helicopter spray business in Gooding, Idaho, and has more than 30 years in the business. "It's a tough industry to get into. Equipment is expensive, insurance is expensive.”
Once the newbies break in, keeping them in proves even tougher.
Gaylon Stamps took the reins of his dad's spray business in Panhandle, Texas, 32 years ago, and trained his son in hopes he would take over for him, but he decided to go to work for Southwest Airlines after notching 1,000 hours of flight time.
"My son thought he wouldn't get nearly as sweaty in the cockpit of a 737,” Stamps said.
Andrew Moore, executive director of the National Agricultural Aviation Association in Washington, said when it comes to predicting how the industry will get its hooks into the next generation, he's "not totally void of hope.”
"Our challenges in bringing in new folks are similar,” Moore said. "The aviation industry has this challenge before them, agriculture has this challenge before them, we just happen to have components of both of those industries.”
Tell me where the ones with 70 years experience are so I can stay out of that area.
Does crop dusting qualify as an “art”?
H
i hope the one who flies over my home doesn’t have 70-years experience!
Maybe crop dusting is fading but bull riding is doing well!
Aw man, and here I was thinking that I could get a UAV, hook up a dusting rig and fly the thing remotely.
Crop dusters are still pretty active in my area...They buzz my house every year...
If you've ever chased Roger Thornhill, you wouldn't be asking that question.
BTW- when flight attendants have an unruly customer, they walk by and "crop dust" (their term) with body gas. (there is some collateral damage, sadly)
“Today, the greatest deterrent for a young pilot wanting to break into
the business is how hard it is to get insured. “
Welcome to another beneficial profession screwed by the jackals
of the law and insurance profession.
(If this is true and a real factor).
I remember meeting a dumber-than-rocks guy who paid for most of
his college degree at Central State University (in Oklahoma)...
by doing ONE summer of crop-dusting in the USA and some
Central-American countries.
But that was a lifetime ago (in the late 1970s).
We don’t see them around very often, only in wet years when farmers just can’t get on the fields using the cheaper conventional methods.
looks like a lot of fun though. I’m not sure what kind of planes the ones I saw are, but they looked like a p41? trainer from ww2
Had one bank 90 degrees over my car and I was counting the spray tips on each nozzle as we both passed at speed.
Pilot’s Adage:
There are old cropdusters and there are bold cropdusters.
But there are no old bold cropdusters.
It has always been a ‘dying’ art. The reason life insurance is so high for cropdusters is they have a life/death expectancy ratio that is the highest on the insurance tables.
I'll fly in a Noo Yawk minute !
a man at my airpark is 82
can out fly anyone you or i know
and teaches aerobatics
You're darn tootin' it is an art. There are pilots than can get the job done and there are guys that can spray a field as well and accurately as a man on the ground with a spray rig. It is definitely an art.
here ya go here’s an AG-CAT locally
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ciac12wnQ4
This ones a turboprop IIRC... not sure of the name
http://travel.webshots.com/photo/2582939550028906950MvDubd
where are you?
I have a rv6a
That’s pretty much the standard rig custom sprayers use around these parts as well. Not much stops those things, not even standing water because they travel fast enough not to get bogged down.
It wouldn’t suprize if the idea for those sprayers came from some guy watching those swamp buggy races they have in the south.
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