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    City of Santa Monica, CA, 8.5 cramped square miles to patrol by air.

     It was June 14^th, 1971, while sitting quietly in my office at 4^th and Wilshire in Santa Monica, California, that the wheels of fate were set into motion, causing this beautiful woman to crash into my life.

     My small, wood-paneled office was at the end of a suite of offices, leased by World Associates on the second floor above a bank.  One of our contracts at that time was with the Santa Monica Police Department – supplying pilots and observers for their city-owned Hughes 300B helicopters. 

     Originally we trained 8 SMPD Officers in two H-300Bs on floats.

      Unfortunately a year later the officers crash one helicopter at sea.

     The SMPD Officers then demanded “hazard pay,” at which point they were grounded, and World Associates replaced them with pilots and observers.

     My duties as Chief Pilot required that I not only fly patrol, and keep the crews current on their autorotations, but also spend time in my office going over the crew schedules and patrol reports for the monthly summation.

     Wearing a suit that day, I was diligently attending to the paperwork, when the CEO paid me an unexpected visit.  He stepped into my cramped office, plopped into a chair across from me, and uncorked a huge sigh full of frustration and despair.  His name was Hugh C. McDonald, and to be honest, he was a legend in law enforcement circles.

     Here’s a brief BIO on McDonald, dear reader: He was born in 1913, was a Major in Military Intelligence and, from 1946 to 1954, was second in command at the Fort MacArthur Military Intelligence School.  In 1961 he graduated from the FBI National Academy, and in 1964 was hired as Chief of Security for Barry Goldwater’s presidential campaign.  In 1967 he retired as Chief of Detectives of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department and had also run their Aero Bureau, then he formed his own private company, World Associates Inc., which designed security systems for police departments and banks, and offered complete aerial law enforcement training packages.

     McDonald was also an inventor; one of his patented inventions being the Identikit – whereby a likeness of a person's face could be constructed using a set of transparencies of various facial features.  

     In the film “Bullitt,” with Steve McQueen, a detective is seen using the Identikit to construct a suspect’s face.  Keep in mind this was prior to computers – even so, it caught a ton of bad guys worldwide.

    A still lifted from the movie.

     Shortly before McDonald retired from the L.A. Sheriffs, he came up with the Sky Knight helicopter patrol program - using the City of Lakewood as a test bed - employing the Hughes 269A.  During the eighteen-month test period crime in Lakewood fell by 11-percent, while rising 9-percent in the rest of Los Angeles County.  Its success is what kick-started police helicopter patrol programs, all over the country, in the late 1960s. 

     In addition to the above, McDonald also wrote; having published the following non-fiction texts for police work: “The Investigation of Sex Crimes” - “The Classification of Police Photographs” – and “The Psychology of Police Interrogation.” His works of fiction included: “Appointment in Dallas: the Final solution to the assassination of JFK” – “LBJ and the JFK Conspiracy” – “Black Sea Caper” – “ The Blue Fox” – and “Letter From Kiev.”

    Another non-fiction book McDonald wrote on personal, practical survivor techniques.

     Recognizing his “sigh,” I knew the floodgates were about to be opened and a wall of shit was headed my way.  Looking up from my paperwork, I met McDonald’s even gaze.  He studied me through wire-rimmed glasses, obviously phrasing in his mind how he wanted to break the bad news.  He was a big man in excess of six feet, wore a conservative grey suit and tie, had a full head of salt and pepper hair, with a Hitler brush mustache, and, for a man in his late-fifties, I found him to be quite active despite a broken back from a B-24 crash during the war, passing a kidney stone while flying a Cessna 310, and a heart by-pass.

     “Pete...these noise complaints are killing us,” McDonald at last said.  “Our enemies on the city council are pushing to drop helicopter patrol...we’re in trouble.”

     I leaned back in my swivel chair, placed both hands behind my head, and observed, “Well, Hugh, I really c-can’t blame them.  This is a small c-city with only eight and a half square miles to patrol.  Even though we’ve raised our p-patrol altitude to a thousand feet, instead of five hundred, the s-switchboard at police HQ still lights up every time we start c-circling a crime scene.”

     “So what the Devil can we do about it, goddammit!” McDonald snarled.  Then, in desperation, he went in a surprisingly new direction, “Is it possible we could do this job with an airplane?”

     I couldn’t believe my luck - for I had been secretly tackling this problem during the past two months.

     I opened a desk drawer and pulled out a large sketch pad.

     Upon graduating high school, dear reader, I had won a Bank of America scholarship to the Art Center School in L.A. – in short, I can draw.               

     I handed McDonald the sketch pad, and said, “I’ve been working on my own, r-running tests on several airplanes...I strongly feel the C-Cessna 172 is our best bet.  Here’s how we should set the c-cabin up for the crew.”

     Cessna 172

     

     My sketch which got the idea “sold.”

  

     My illustration depicted a single-engine Cessna 172 cut in half – revealing the pilot in the left seat, but with the right seat removed.  The back bench seat with baggage compartment was also removed – being replaced by a single, swivel seat with an observer, and a writing desk/storage compartment. 

     Observer’s position with writing desk, airspeed and altitude instruments, plus radio controls.

      Note the pistol grip, on the desk, before being attached to the binoculars. 

     The observer held Bushnell 10X50 binoculars to his eyes, with a pistol grip attached on the right side.  The pistol grip had an intercom and radio transmit trigger switch, with an on/off switch and Chinese hat switch for operating the searchlight.

      The observer in back and the pilot up front.

     An ORC “Locater” searchlight, shaped like a streamlined bomb with a glass nose, was mounted on the Cessna’s belly, and behind that two public address system speakers were built inside the fuselage with their openings flush to the Cessna’s belly – offering no drag whatsoever. 

     ORC “Locater” searchlight.

       The searchlight illuminating a crime scene.

      Dual PA System and searchlight.

  

       Extra windows were cut in the lower part of the fuselage that surrounded the observer’s compartment.  Both the pilot and observer wore helmets with boom microphones.

     After McDonald studied my drawing for several long moments, he finally asked, “Why has the right seat been taken out?”

     “What’s the flight e-endurance of a Hughes 300B helicopter?” I fired back.

     McDonald looked up at me, still puzzled, and replied, “Oh...I’d say two and a half hours...maybe three tops.”

     “That’s right,” I said.  Then added, “But with the Cessna 172 we can m-modify it to stay in the air for nine and a half hours.”

     Okay, dear reader, let me give you a few specs: The Hughes 300B helicopter used a 180 hp Lycoming engine, which burned ten gallons per hour at 2250 rpm, in order to maintain a cruise speed of 60 mph.  Having merely a 30 gallon tank, it could only stay in the air three hours tops.  On the other hand, the Cessna 172 used a 150 hp Lycoming engine, carried 42 gallons of fuel (21 gallons per standard wing tank) and with a STOL kit modification to the wing, plus ten degrees of flaps, could throttle way back to 1900 rpm and maintain 60 mph - while only burning 4.42 gallons per hour - giving it nine and a half hours in the air before the engine quit.  

     “My God, Pete,” McDonald interrupted, “you can’t expect a crew to stay in the air for nine hours!”

     “When we’re on a s-stakeout for the detectives,” I shot back, “what’s our Achilles heel in the h-helicopter?”

     “Achilles heel?” McDonald responded.  “I don’t follow.”

     “It’s time...” I said.  McDonald’s blank look prompted me to elaborate, “In the h-helicopter whenever we follow a suspect to an apartment building to w-work a drug deal or visit a girlfriend, we’ll set up at 3,000 feet and fly a five-mile box around him to c-cut down the noise and remain undetected.  Hell...he can be in there for hours.  B-But after only two and a half hours of flight time we’ve got to head for S-Santa Monica Airport to refuel.  And you c-can bet your left nut just as soon as we g-get on the ground and start refueling...that’s when the suspect m-makes his move.  By the time we g-get back in the air the detectives have lost the suspect on the 405 Freeway, and the trail is so c-cold by then we can’t find him either.  This happens all the time.  However, with the airplane we c-could stay on a suspect for nine hours and never lose him.”

     “Pete...,” McDonald said, shaking his head, “I can’t possibly see how we can ask a crew to stay in the air for nine hours.  They need to pee, drink, eat...Christ, the fatigue factor alone would make it impossible.”

     “That’s why I’ve t-taken out the right hand seat, Hugh” I countered.

     McDonald gave me an exasperated look, “Pete...you’ve totally lost me.”

     “Hugh...look at the drawing,” I said, and waited till his eyes dropped to take in my sketch.  “With the airplane we now have space to c-carry food, water, coffee and plastic pee pots.  J-Just like the good old days when you ran stakeouts in a sheriff’s car.  As for the f-fatigue factor, that’s why I’ve removed the right seat, a-allowing the pilot and observer to change jobs in flight every hour...c-cutting their fatigue in half and increasing their interest and a-attentiveness.”

     McDonald looked up at me, by his expression I could see I had just opened up a whole new world to him; akin to giving a blind man sight.  “Have you had a chance to work out the hourly costs?”  McDonald asked.

     Anticipating this question, I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a cost analysis sheet, which listed and compared the hourly operating costs of the helicopter to the airplane.  I handed the sheet to McDonald and watched his mental calculations kick into gear.  McDonald’s mind was razor sharp when it came to figures – requiring me to double and triple check my numbers.

     After what seemed an eternity for me, because I was probably holding my breath, McDonald at last glanced up at me. 

     “So bottom line,” McDonald began, ”you’re telling me that we can operate the airplane for an average hourly cost of nine dollars per hour, as opposed to thirty-three dollars per hour for the helicopter.”

     Remember, dear reader, these are 1971 dollars - at that time a lot of money.

     “Hugh, I’m t-telling you more than that,” I replied.  “Look at the m-maintenance down time for the airplane as opposed to the helicopter.  As you know helicopters p-possess one hell of a lot more m-moving parts than an airplane, demanding far more maintenance down time and p-parts replacement.  To run two eight-hour patrol s-shifts per day...you have to have two helicopters because of all this additional m-maintenance.  On the other hand, to run the s-same two eight-hour patrol shifts per day, only one airplane is needed; because an airplane requires far less m-maintenance than a helicopter.”

     McDonald studied the cost analysis sheet a moment longer, than looked at my illustration once more.  “What’s this triangular thing attached to the airplane’s exhaust stack?” he asked.

      Noise-Suppressant Flange.

      “I r-ran our noise problem past Group One, an aircraft modification c-company at the Torrance Airport,” I responded.  “They came up with a d-design for a noise-suppressant flange, which they feel will make the Cessna 172 dead quiet at 60 mph and 1,000 feet above the g-ground.”

     Abruptly McDonald stood up.  “May I keep this stuff?” he asked, referring to my illustration and cost sheet.

     “C-Certainly, Hugh,” I replied a bit surprised.  However, that was McDonald’s manner.  When things made sense to him, he acted decisively and without any hesitation. 

     That’s why I liked working for him, dear reader.  He was a no-bullshit type of guy.  And, I guess, a bit of a father-figure for me.

     McDonald stepped out of my tiny office, then hesitated and looked back at me, saying, “You’ve put a lot of hard work and forethought into this project, Pete.  I’m calling an emergency meeting of the board to get funding.  Good job, my friend, you just may have saved our ass.”

     And thus was born the “Sky Sentinel,” dear reader.  At the time, I felt the name was a bit too romantic for my brainchild.  But hey, McDonald was the boss and the writer, and he did keep his word about getting the funding; allowing me to go ahead with my private little airplane experiment.  Ergo, if he wanted a romantic name, how could I possibly bitch about it? 

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