AOPA Turbine Pilot Magazine - May 2022 - 43

PEOPLE /
Here's Waldo
Feisty instructor still sought out at 88
BY DAVE HIRSCHMAN
" WHERE'S WALDO? " IS more than just a children's
book and TV show. It's a question
Minnesota seaplane pilots earnestly ask, as
do participants in Beechcraft Pilot Proficiency
Programs (BPPP) around the country.
And the riddle can be surprisingly hard to
answer because Ralph Waldo Anderson-the
88-year-old aviator they're looking for-is a
habitual rambler.
" I spend winters in Arizona and summers
in Minnesota, but I like to stay busy and seldom
stay in one place very long, " said Anderson,
who was teaching at a BPPP clinic in Lakeland,
Florida, the day I found him.
That morning, the impish former FAA designee,
who administered checkrides in the
Midwest for 47 years, was giving introductory
seaplane rides to other flight instructors. At
midday he provided an instrument proficiency
check in a Baron, and that evening he gave more
dual instruction for another Baron pilot headed
to South Florida.
Anderson taught at the University of
Minnesota's aviation program for 37 years, and
he's sought out today because his practical lessons
go far beyond academics.
" You don't want to be in the midst of an
actual engine failure the very first time you shut
down an engine in a Baron or a Beech 18, " said
Anderson, who learned to fly in a U.S. Air Force
flying club in Salina, Kansas, in 1957.
" Every pilot should get to experience that
during their checkout so that they know exactly
what to expect if and when it ever happens for
real. Once pilots see it and practice it, they realize
they can handle engine failures just fine, and
that makes the rest of their flying more enjoyable
because they're not stressed out about it. "
Anderson, an A&P mechanic, gets down
on the ground to shake landing gear doors
and sump fuel tanks during each Beechcraft
preflight. He climbs surefootedly on
slippery seaplane floats and wet docks without
hesitation.
Flying with Anderson is a contact sport. If you're not applying
enough right rudder, he'll slap or punch your right thigh as a hint.
If he wants you to press a button, he'll grab your hand and guide
it to the button he wants pressed. His cockpit demeanor is casual,
energetic, and sprinkled with a few F-bombs and lots of laughter.
He's got encyclopedic knowledge of avionics ranging from the
long-obsolete to the most modern, and he delights in quickly filing
flight plans on his ever-present iPad.
" I don't know how we ever flew airplanes for all those years
without these things, " he said. " I know how to tell the iPad what
I want, and once I've done that, I do exactly what it tells me to do.
When you're as old as me, you don't waste your time arguing with
the technology. "
Anderson was named for Ralph Waldo Emerson, but it's the
middle name that stuck.
He lost part of his left pinky finger in a machine-shop accident
long ago and says the emergency room doctor asked at the time
whether he played the piano or a stringed instrument.
Anderson told him no, he flew airplanes.
The doctor looked relieved and tossed the severed portion of
Anderson's finger in the trash can.
" He told me I wouldn't be needing that in my line or work, and
he was right, " Anderson said. " I haven't missed it a bit. "
dave.hirschman@aopa.org
AOPA PILOT / May 2022
43
AOPA Turbine Pilot Magazine - May 2022

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