Pilots

In the early hours after the world learned that John F. Kennedy Jr. had plowed into the waters off Martha's Vineyard, countless TV reporters gravely turned to their cameras and proceeded to misinform the public with their ignorance of aviation. Luckily for the 200,000 readers of the Times-Dispatch in Richmond, Virginia, veteran reporter Peter Bacqué was assigned to the story.

Bacqué is a man who has two careers. While holding a full-time job as a newspaper reporter covering aviation, the military, and weather, Bacqué has managed to accumulate more than 5,500 flight hours since 1978. The last time he checked—and that was a few years ago—more than 75 different aircraft types had found their way into his logbook. He's a CFI in airplanes and gliders, teaches ground school and advanced instrument flying, is a single- and multiengine ATP, and holds a commercial helicopter ticket as well as seaplane ratings (single- and multiengine). He's had stick time in everything from gliders to blimps to F–16s. And he can quote Shakespeare or Faulkner as he tells you about it.

When he isn't holding a notepad in an interview or typing at his computer in the newsroom, you can usually find Bacqué near something that flies. Because of his schedule at the newspaper, he often squeezes in a flight lesson with one of his students before going into the office. On his days off he's usually teaching somewhere or indulging in one of his passions: tow duty in a Piper Pawnee at the Tidewater Soaring Society.

For all of his hours in powered flight, Bacqué considers soaring to be closest to his heart. "If I were king, I'd make everyone learn to fly gliders first." While the statement is driven in part by emotion, it's also driven by practicalities. Bacqué is convinced that glider pilots better understand the dynamics of flight and the importance of weather and terrain. He's also convinced that glider students have a better learning environment as pilots because there's no engine to manage. It's a belief that dovetails nicely with one of his mantras: "Fly the airplane first."

While Bacqué loves to teach, tow, and fly gliders, charter flights are his favorite kind of flying. For years he flew traffic patrols before going to his regular job at the newspaper. "I got to where I really loved being out at the airport before dawn and flying at sunrise, especially in the spring. The earth is that iridescent green, the dogwoods are in bloom with huge expanses of pink and white—and only pilots get to see that." With the ground fog and early light, "the world looks like a contented newborn baby." Even though he appreciates the beauty of the dawn, "The absolute best stuff is the powerline patrol." In calm winds, good light, and over level ground, Bacqué reveled in flying a Cessna 172 a mere 10 feet above the endless miles of energized cable as an observer inspected the lines for problems. "That was just wonderful flying. But there's just nowhere to go if something goes wrong. So let's hear it for the Lycoming O-320."

Bacqué is a big man with a full, hearty laugh that freely erupts when earthbound. Inside a cockpit, he becomes serious and intense. But on occasion, he's known to use dark humor. When a student's fear or tension gets in the way of learning a maneuver, he'll take the controls and cry out in theatrical horror: "I can't hold it, Charlie! I can't hold it!" All the while he's wrenching the wheel from side to side and then slamming it forward with the palm of his hand. Then with his hands in his lap, he slowly turns to regard his protégé with a mocking expression. As the student's shock wears off, the lesson becomes clear: A trimmed airplane always comes back to straight-and-level flight even after massive and sudden inputs.

As an instructor, Bacqué demands attention to detail and allows no shortcuts. Printed checklists are to be religiously used and preflights are conducted with precision. And he practices what he preaches. After a recent flight, a friend watched as Bacqué got in his car to drive home and then turned to say, "He's so meticulous in his preflights, I'm surprised he doesn't do a walkaround on his car before driving."

Those same traits serve him well as a reporter, especially when he is writing on aviation. "He's very precise and rock-solid on his facts," says editor Tom Kapsadelis. "His level of precision is just tremendous. I think because he's a CFI he can strike a middle ground between writing for the informed and for those who are new to the topic. People in the aviation field can learn something without feeling like they're being talked down to."

"In writing about flying," says Bacqué, "I try to explain what's really happening, because a lot of aviation is counterintuitive. So much of today's journalism is screaming headlines. What I try to do is speak calmly. I try to get people away from the idea that flying is mysticism." When the paper asked Bacqué for a story on the Kennedy crash, he responded with a personal story that said: "I don't know what happened to Kennedy, but I know how it feels to fly over water at night." That story generated more positive reaction than any other story he's ever written.

"I think I've had the best of both worlds," Bacqué said. "I've had incredible experiences."