Nick to Madid to fight los toros.

Nick's stories from the Flight Engineer desk

Madrid Layover

It was 31 May 1967 when TWA flight 904 taxied out and took off for Madrid, Spain at 1855 in a big straight pipe Boeing 707-331, tail number N7663TW. It was a beautiful night for aviating and as usually happened with a full load of passengers the flight was runninga bit late. Captain Cliff Barrow was in command. He was a gentleman's pilot who wouldn't say you know what even if he had a mouthful. The First Officer was Dick Rowen who had joined the airline after flying multi-engine transports in the Air Force. He was a very capable pilot with a somewhat wry sense of humor. Yours truly was manning the Flight Engineer station, as was often said "riding sidesaddle". I had come onboard from the Navy having flown the Douglas A4D Skyhawk for four years. I had always wanted to be an airline pilot since a young boy. My dad would take the family on a Sunday ride to Berry field in Nashville (BNA) just to watch the airplanes take off and land. On one occasion I vividly remember an American Airlines DC 6 taxing up to the terminal. The Captain had his cockpit window open and after parking he shouted a hello to the mechanic and reached out to get his flight plan for the next leg. I do believe this image stuck with me and so from then on I dreamed of being an airline captain. Many years later as a teenager and during world war II, I saw an ad on the back cover of Time magazine, an ad for Navy Air showing a pilot looking out of the cockpit of his Corsair on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. He had a big mustached grin and was wearing his leather flight hat. The ad stated, "Join the Navy and see the World", and so again I began to dream of someday being a Navy pilot, and for some reason it had to be Navy not Air Force.

After passing over Nantucket island climbing to an initial altitude of 29,000 feet, later on we would request 33,000 feet for the Atlantic crossing, and reading the check list the cockpit overhead lights were turned on dim and Cliff and Dick began to discuss what was being served for dinner in first class. Although there were crew meals on board the cockpit would be offered any leftovers being served to the first class passengers. Commissary always loaded more then enough food so we were sure we would be eating First Class. The first class meal service on TWA was superb, fit for a king. So, what will it be, Chateau Briand and baked potato
, Sole Menieure with cream of spinach or rack of lamb with mint jelly? This conversation was making me hungry since I had'nt eaten since the greasy burger I ate in the cafeteria at five o'clock. Soon there was the secret two knocks on the cockpit door. I opened it and in came a cheery flight attendant named Patsy who wanted to know if we wanted coffee, tea or .................. with a naughty smile and a wink of the eye.................. "or a cold drink." The first Officer replied, "you left out a backrub". The repartee between the flight attendants and cockpit crew would have the ladies at the quilting bee looking at each other with eyebrows raised. In later years water replaced Cokes for many. Also cigarettes went by the wayside but not the inter crew banter.

Patsy took our orders, left the First Class menu for our perusal. and as she headed out the door she smilingly remarked, "Boy, you pilots sure have it good", and at this point I had to agree. She soon returned with our drinks and some snacks. A little while later she came in pushing the hors d'oveurs cart and offered us a choice of shrimp cocktail, caviar with the extras or an assortment of cheeses and fresh fruit. After a great meal and about two hours in the flight having eaten our fill and well sated, flight 904 was approaching Halifax, Nova Scotia. This would be the starting point for the oceanic crossing Our
routing this night would take us about 60 miles north of the Azores then over the northwest tip of the Iberian peninsula and on in to Barajas airfield, Madrid. Our clearance had been received from Gander Oceanic control and the first two legs course and distance had been set in the doppler and checked. As we passed over Halifax we gave out position report and estimate for 50 degrees West longitude. Soon we would be out of VHF radio range and would have to make position reports on the HF high frequency radio. I as the flight engineer would make these position reports and I hoped we would find a good frequency with minimal static. If not you could hear me in loud voice shouting, "Gander, Gander, Gander, TWA 904 50 West postion." After several tries you might hear from Gander if not then maybe Shannon oceanic or Santa Maria oceanic would pickup. If one of the latter two replied we would ask them to relay to Gander.

We had reached our crossing altitude of 33,000 feet which had been forecast to be a smooth ride. For the crossing Dick would be taking and plotting our positions using the LORAN and I monitoring the aircraft systems and managing the fuel. Here it was a clear night and the stars were bright. To the North you might be able to see the aurora borealis and to the South the constallation Orion. After the meal service was done the flight attendants would come up to say "Hi" and if they liked the cockpit crew hang around and chat a bit. Sometimes the subject might be about the Madrid layover......where to go....where to eat.....where the best shopping bargains were. And believe me the ladies knew where the deals were. One gal told me about a little shop up behind the hotel that discounted its' Lladro figurines to TWA crew by as much as twenty-five percent. They also wanted to know what time we were landing and what the weather was forcast to be. They hadn't heard a word the captain had said in his announcement to the passengers just after reaching cruise altitude. One young lady who I believe didn't like to fly (she just enjoyed the shopping on the layovers) asked me, Nick, "Are we in for a smooth flight tonight." I assured her we were and she seemed to relax.

So far tonight the ride was smooth but occasionally there might be a bump or two. These bumps might be associated with thunderstorms below us or a change in wind direction or as we would say in the Navy an "atmospheric phenomenon". Some of the clear air turbulence (CAT) was not forecast but studying the weather maps in planning the dispatcher could show where there might be a good chance of some bumpy air. Pilots didn't like to use the word "turbulence" when talking to the passengers so it was "Folks, I have turned the seat belt sign on for a bit. while in this bumpy air..... it should smooth out shortly and be a nice ride on into Madrid". If the turbulence was a little more than light we would ding the flight attendants and have them stop there service and take a seat. This would invariably bring one or two attendants to the cockpit wanting to know how long the turbulence was going to last. The stock reply was, "Oh, about ten minutes."

Dick was working diligently over the LORAN with head bent over looking into the black tube which shielded the LORAN screen. On this particular night the atmospheric conditions were such that we could only pick up two LORAN stations and one of those faded in and out and was felt to be a bit unreliable. Occasionally Cliff would ask to see the chart. The position fixes showed we were going off course to the left. So Cliff suggested putting in a 10 mile offset correction to the left which would bring us back on
course. Dick put in the correction and the autopilot turned the 707 oh so slowly to the right to bring us back on course. By this time most of the passengers would be asleep and I doubt that they even sensed the aircraft was turning. As we came closer to the Azores we would be able to pickup a low frequency radio beacon (NDB). At about 200 miles from Santa Maria we tuned in Flores radio and the needle pointed to the right of our nose about ten degrees. This being the case and using the good Loran station the fix showed us about 20 right of course. Cliff put in another 20 mile offset correction and once we were approaching landfall in Spain we picked up a radio beacon. When the needle locked on it showed that we were right on course.



Madrid Layover

Our first layover was in Madrid. This was the first layover of a five day trip with other layovers in Rome, Cairo, and Frankfurt before returning to New York on 5 June.

We landed at 0723 local time and after clearing customs and immigration all went out to meet the crew bus and watch our bags being loaded on the bus. Once done some of us tipped the porters and we were on our way to La Plaza Hotel in downtown Madrid. It was about a 45 minute ride in traffic so many took cat naps while others just stared out at the hustle and bustle on streets of the city.

Once the bus arrived we were met by one of the hotel porters with his helper with baggage cart. Also we were met by Jose, a swarthy looking local hustler who had a very pleasant demeanor and an eye for the ladies. This particular day he was offering the crew an excursion to the country side for some horseback riding and late lunch in the riding academy cantina. Although tired a number of the crew agreed to gather in the lobby at 2 pm and Jose would take us on the horseback riding excursion. I don’t recall if there was a charge for his services, maybe a tip or two, but I do remember Jose did enjoy being around the ladies and he delivered as promised.

As all were tired, some a bit more red eyed then others, we went into the hotel to check in. As usual the flight attendants knew which were the best rooms and they scurried past Cliff, Dick and I to the front of the line at the crew check in desk asking for room number such and such. However, the captain of the flight was well respected, as was customary in Europe, and his name and room assignment was called first. Cliff reached over the heads of those in front of him and took his key and coupon for a complimentary drink. and headed for the elevator. Dick and I got our keys next and as we left the others I stated, “All those going horseback riding meet on the N floor at two”. On these layovers you never knew who was going to show up. Sometimes all did and sometimes none.

I remember a Madrid layover many years later when I was flying as the Fist Officer on the 747. The cabin crew consisted of twelve flight attendants on the 747. As I spoke Spanish, had many layovers in Madrid and knew the town about as well as I knew my hometown, I announced to all waiting to get their room keys, “ Anyone who wants to go out for dinner to the old part of Madrid, meet in the lobby at six.” Well this was during a flight attendant strike and the cabin crew were all new. So, much to my surprise all 12 cabin crew showed up at six in the lobby along with the captain . I took all outside and ordered five taxis and gave instructions to the cabbies to take his passengers to Las Cuevas area which was in the Plaza mayor. We had a great time trying out the tapas at the many cafes around the Plaza enjoying the Spanish night life...... I digress.....


Cliff and Dick were a little late in arriving on the “N” floor for our tour. I arrived and found that there were four of our female crew sipping their coffees and debating whether to go shopping or horseback riding. As they would be back in Madrid two more layovers that month they decided the shopping could wait. So Jose was waiting outside the hotel with a stretch limo and so the tour began and it was off to the Spanish countryside.

Ride'em cowboy!

Stable horses are all the same. You have to goad them on the ride out from the stable.tugging the reins to keep them on the trail. All our horses were pretty docile. The stable hand made sure of this, especillay for the girls. Occasionally Dick or I would have to come to the aid of a flight attendant who was having trouble keeping her horse on the trail. Once it had been decided that we had traveled far enough and were getting saddle sore we turned and started back. Once headed toward the barn the horses perked up and we had to rein them in so as to return at a trot instead of a gallop.

Once the horses were put up we all headed for the restaurant. Jose had arranged for a typical Spanish mid day meal which consisted of paella, gambas ajillo, ensallada verde , and pan and plenty of sangria to wash it down. The food was delicious and tasty especially if you liked garlic. There was an unwritten rule in the cockpit that if one was going to eat garlic then all would eat garlic. The conversation around the table was lively and animated especially when recanting the happenings of that afternoon on the trail. After eating we passed the hat and all chipped in for the dinner, Cliff paid for the sangria and Dick and I took the money and bill to pay at the maitre di stand. The owner. a very jovial older man was waiting for us with a big smile and in part broken english and spanish thanked us and wished us good luck, "Gooda lock y que tenga un buen viaje". He looked toward Jose and with a wink of the eye and a smile he thanked him too. I am sure Jose got a little more then a thank you from him.

As Dick and I turned to join the group I noticed there was a small bull ring off to the left of the front of the restaurant about thirty meters away. Three tour buses pulled up loaded to the gills with tourists. They all unloaded and headed toward the ring. I turned to Jose and asked what was going on. He explained that this farm also raised baby bulls for the bull fights in Madrid and in few minutes they would bring out a couple of baby bulls to show. I turned to Dick, “Hey partner, let’s go check it out” So out we went and took a spot on the wall.

Pilotos Locos

Two small "baby" bulls were trotted out. “You ever fight a bull, Dick?” I shouted with a bit of the sangria starting to kick in. “No, he said but you know they dont’s look that big.” “Let’s go” I shouted and jumped in the ring with Dick right behind me. There was a cheer from the gathered turistas and the cabin crew that had come out to watch the show. “Hey, these bulls don’t look like baby bulls” I stammered. About that time one bull eyed Dick and the other glared at me and as if on cue both lowered their heads, pawed at the dirt, snorted and headed our way in full charge mode. And we too, as if on cue, turned tail and scrambled up and over the wall. The audience laughed and cheered and a few shouted “ole“

As I scrambled over the wall I cut my ankle on a piece of metal. Not much damage done but my ego was somewhat besmirched. The restaurant owner administered first aid and bandaged my cut and with a smile and a grin said "Adios, caballero de la corrida" . For the remainder of the trip when asked about my bandaged ankle I would reply with a grin , “I injured it fighting the bulls in Madrid”. I do know from that day on I had great admiration for the toreadors of Spain.

Murray "Nick" Nicholson, TWA Captain, Ret. 24 March 2007