Pilots

If you look at the Cincinnati or St. Louis sectional charts, southeast of Lexington, Kentucky, and just east of Madison Airport, you'll see the private Berea-Richmond Airport. That's the official name, but the pilots in Central Kentucky all know it as something else — Lackey's Airport. And the man behind that name is J. Miller Lackey Jr., whose seven-decade involvement with the grass strip embodies the heart of general aviation.

Lackey was born on his grandparents' farm; grew up in the farmhouse with his grandparents, parents, and uncle; and now lives in the same house, just 30 yards across the driveway from the airport. "Born right here — didn't get very far," he says with a chuckle. His involvement with the airport began in 1933, when his uncle, Sam Lackey, who had never flown before, "went to Cincinnati, took about an hour's instruction, and flew home." Home, of course, was the family farm, where the young Lackey helped his uncle to build a grass strip and wooden T-hangars. And the hard work paid off: "A lot of people started bringing their airplanes in; the state police used it. It was the only airport around closer than Lexington." During the next eight years, Lackey learned a lot about running a small airport and about flying.

World War II broadened Lackey's experience with aviation. In 1941, he joined the Army Air Corps, training as an airframe and powerplant engineer at Aeronautical University in Chicago. He received further training in Indianapolis, and from there he made his way to Brazil, where he boarded a Pan American Clipper — a "flying boat" with the unusual number 007 — and flew to Monrovia, Liberia.

Lackey's last hop was on a C-47 to Accra, Ghana, on the British Gold Coast. Here he worked as a mechanic, crew chief, and flying chief for the Army, maintaining B-17s, B-24s, B-29s, P-38s, and P-40s. "I changed the engine on a B-29 once, and the pilot would usually take you along, whether you wanted to go or not. We buzzed a fishing boat out there near Accra, just off the coast, and I looked at the airspeed indicator, and we were doing 320 miles per hour in that thing." The fishermen below "threw their oars in the air and jumped out of the boat as we went over. We were so low, I was afraid one of the oars was going to hit the prop."

After the war Lackey returned to Kentucky, where he worked various jobs but managed to find time to help his uncle run the airport and fly and maintain airplanes. It was during this period that he learned to fly. He took his checkride in an Aeronca 7FC at Bowman Field in Louis-ville in the dead of winter, 1962: "It was 20 below zero; we spent about half a day getting the airplane started." Soon he bought an Aeronca 7EC, which he flew all over Kentucky, then a Cessna 172, and "then I got the [Cessna] 182 — boy, that was going then." His favorite flying trip was with the Flying Farmers, an organization that he joined in the mid-1960s. In 1975, Lackey, along with his wife Louise and two friends, met 50 Flying Farmers in San Antonio and, from there, flew to Guatemala and Costa Rica. He flew regularly for more than 30 years, until a heart bypass operation and eye problems grounded him. Flying, Lackey notes, is "great relaxation; you go up there, fly around; you're not confined, and you forget about all your other troubles — just relax."

In 1968, Lackey inherited the family farm and airport from his uncle. Although his primary job was raising Angus cattle and farming, his real love was the grass strip that he and Sam had carved out three decades before. And for 65 years, it has been an active strip: There have been as many as 20 airplanes based at the airport at one time, and even now you can walk the grounds and see a Swift, a Tri-Pacer, an assortment of Cessnas, an ultralight, a Flybaby, and a jump plane operated by the Thunderbird Sport Parachute Club. Lackey estimates that hundreds of students have learned to fly at his airport during the past 65 years, including his two sons, John and Maurice, and his brother, O.M. Lackey.

With such a long history, there have been some mishaps. "We had a thunderstorm here one time," Lackey recounts, "and a Piper Cub got loose and hung up in the telephone wires." And about 30 years ago the pilot of a Cherokee Warrior became confused and landed on the taxiway, skidded through the driveway, and ended up in Lackey's living room. "Prop went through the window there," he recalls, with his characteristic understatement.

When asked what drew him to aviation for seven decades, Lackey reflects for a bit and then says, "Well, you meet a lot of interesting people; you don't meet any bad [people], seems like." If you're lucky enough to be one of those pilots flying in central Kentucky, be sure to stop by Lackey's Airport. Taxi up to the shade trees, climb out, and sit down at the picnic table. After a while, you'll see somebody mowing the grass, raking the leaves, tooling around in his World War II Jeep, or tinkering with an airplane. Soon he'll come over and introduce himself as Miller Lackey, and in just a few minutes you'll understand why this grass strip — 2,400 feet of general aviation history — is called Lackey's Airport.