Fresh out of the Air Force in 1971 and looking for a job in aviation, Pat Epps offered me a job as an airplane salesman — commission only, of course. Epps had started Epps Air Service at DeKalb-Peachtree Airport in Atlanta in 1965 and had recently signed on as a Piper dealer. I think he just needed a warm body to fulfill his contract with our distributor, Georgia Piper, and I showed up at the right time. Epps gave me an office with a first-class metal desk and a telephone, but I had to pay for my own window drapes.
Well, I surprised him, and myself too, by actually selling an airplane the first week. As I recall, it was a low-time, used Cherokee 180, and the selling price was under $15,000. After that, my status at Epps Air Service improved.
Before long, I took over management of the Epps Flight School and its charter department in addition to my aircraft sales duties. I was still on commission, but now I got a princely salary of $150 per week. These were the days of Veterans Administration training, and the government was paying 90 percent of the cost of flight training for Viet Nam vets. The school was going strong, with each of the 10 trainers flying a hundred hours a month, and we were using Piper Flight Liners (Cherokee 140s) that we bought new for about $12,000 each. The rental rate was $12 per hour wet, and we made a profit.
One day a new customer showed up inquiring about purchasing a small single-engine airplane. Soft-spoken and mannerly, he gave his name as Bill Abernathy and told me he was in the construction business. We agreed on the price for a used Cessna 172, and he asked if he could pay us in weekly installments to match up with the "cash flow" of his business. This was highly unusual, and I think the only time I ever sold an airplane for cash money, but he seemed an honest sort, and the airplane was going to stay at DeKalb so we let him do it. Of course, we also held the bill of sale.
True to his word, "Mr. Abernathy" came by every week with a McDonald's sack full of money and in short order had paid the entire purchase price. He was a personable fellow, and as time went by, I often saw him on Saturday mornings at the flight school and chatted with him over coffee. He loved his Cessna, and frequently took his wife on short trips.
One day two blue suits showed up at my office and after flashing their FBI credentials, asked if I could identify someone in a photo. Sure, I said. That's Mr. Abernathy, one of my good customers. "Wrong," said the agents. "This is Willie Foster Sellers, a notorious bank robber. Do you know where he is?" Oh, yes, said I, always eager to help the long arm of the law. "He lives in an apartment not far from here on Buford Highway."
A few days later, a rather hard-looking bleached blonde came to see me. She told me that she was Sellers' wife and wanted to know if I would buy the airplane back. Sellers would not need it anymore since he was in jail. There followed one of the most interesting conversations in my life.
Barbara Sellers told me that she was a former exotic dancer from a small South Georgia town and had been with Sellers for a number of years. She said that he could have paid me in cash for the airplane right away, but he was afraid I'd be suspicious. She described the arrest:
"Have you ever watched the television show The F.B.I.?" she asked. "Well, those guys on television are nice. These people who arrested us were not nice. We came home from a weekend trip, and they surrounded the car when we parked at the apartment. They took Foster and me to jail but finally let me go."
I told her that I was shocked to learn of this, and I said that I really liked Mr. Abernathy, er, Sellers, and would offer him a job at the flight school if he could get probation. Barbara just laughed at that. "Are you kidding?" she said. "He had already escaped from a life prison term for robbery twice when he got caught this time. He'll never be released, so he'll just have to escape again."
I said, "Well, please tell him, if he does, not to come here again."
She looked at me and said, "You wouldn't tell on him, would you?"
Quickly changing the subject, I said, "How long have you folks been in the bank-robbing business?"
"As long as I've known him," she replied. Barbara went on to describe their life as fugitives, always keeping a suitcase full of money hidden in the closet. She said they marveled at all the other apartment dwellers getting up and going to work each day, not knowing that Sellers was going out to rob banks.
I agreed to buy the airplane back from her (for slightly less than he had paid), and she requested that we pay her in cash. To do this, we had to get a cashier's check and go with her to our local branch bank to convert it to cash. She drove there in a late-model T-Bird and asked if we wanted to buy that too. We declined. In the bank, she put the cash in her purse, and as we were leaving, she looked around and said, "Um, I bet they have a lot of money in here."
Eventually, Sellers escaped again and was on the loose for several years, during which time he was on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list. I never heard from him again, thankfully, but I guess he bought another airplane, because when he was finally apprehended, it was at an airport.
I left Epps to join Wachovia Bank (ironic, huh?) in 1984, but I will always have fond memories of my days at Epps (now Epps Aviation). Pat Epps is still there, of course, as is Warren Cochran, the "new guy" I hired in 1979. Cochran has been managing the sales department now for 25 years, but I don't think he can top this story.
Willie Foster Sellers escaped from jail in May 1971. He was arrested in his Atlanta apartment building in September 1973. He escaped and was placed on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted Fugutives list in 1977 and was finally apprehended in 1979. — Editors
Mike Pickett, AOPA 1187005, is a retired senior vice president of Wachovia Aircraft Finance.
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