Twin Otter International brings aviation’s past back to vibrant life

Thursday, Oct. 21, 1999 | 9:25 a.m.

A snapshot in a scrapbook compiled by ace craftsmen Jim Helrich and Leonard Shina is of Shina comically grimacing at the camera. The photo is embellished with a little cartoon thought bubble that reads, "I ain't no rocket scientist."

Maybe not. But Shina is part of an equally impressive project, helping to rebuild a two-seat biplane that first took off just 14 years after the Wright Brothers made the first successful flight at Kitty Hawk, N.C.

For the past year Helrich and Shina have been immersed in an extensive restoration assignment for Twin Otter International in North Las Vegas, refurbishing a 1917 Standard J-1 to be placed on display at the Planes of Fame Museum in Valle, Ariz., 25 miles south of the Grand Canyon.

The Standard J-1 was used primarily as a training plane for the Army Air Corps in World War I. Occasionally it was used for carrying mail and surveying land.

"This has been a wonderful project to work on, a real labor of love," Helfrich said earlier this week during a break from working on the aged aircraft. "It'll be a great addition to the museum."

The museum, in the process of expanding with a 35,000-square-foot hangar, is a celebration of the long history of scenic tours at the Grand Canyon dating back to 1927. The Valle Airport is owned by John Seibold, who also owns Twin Otter (specializing in the modification and refurbishing of all sorts of eclectic aircraft) and is also co-owner of Grand Canyon Airlines in Arizona.

Seibold purchased a few loose parts for the wood-structured 1917 Standard more than a year ago with the idea that the old plane could be put on display as a tribute to aviation at Grand Canyon. (Seibold was traveling through Canada this week and unavailable for comment).

The 1917 Standard has a special place in Grand Canyon history, as its believed to be the first plane to ever land inside the canyon. A 1922 photo of a 1917 Standard J-1 touching down on the Pluto Plateau, 3,500 feet below the canyon's south rim, serves as the best record of the event.

It's one of the more rare aircraft in the country, and Helfrich estimates that no more than six such planes are in existence.

"I only know a little about its past," Helfrich said. "It crashed in Reno, I can tell you that, a long, long time ago. Someone in Reno had the remains and stored them in his barn, then a guy from California bought the pieces and moved it to California."

The odds and ends eventually wound up in the hands of a collector in Paso Robles, Calif., who in turn sold them to Seibold for an undisclosed amount. With Helfrich providing a rich background in aircraft renovation and Shina bringing more than 50 years of woodworking expertise, the project began in July 1998.

"We had just pieces, the fuel tank, wheels, the axle was good, but the wood was rotted and split and we couldn't use any of it," Helfrich said. "We had to start from the tail and work our way up, with Leonard doing all of the wood work off of old drawings or photographs and me refurbishing hundreds of metal fittings, building the wires, everything."

Gaining access to any sort of blueprint for the plane isn't easy. Helfrich and Shina were supplied with copies of the original instructional manual, but most of the 800 pages of drawings and diagrams are illegible. However, in Porterville, Calif., is a fully restored plane -- the same plane used in the World War I film, "The Great Waldo Pepper."

Helfrich and Shina have made several trips to Porterville to snap photos to use as blueprints.

"We're very fortunate to have the one in Porterville," Helfrich said. "That way we can actually see how things are put together, because there's not much of a record of how to build these planes. You wind up taking pictures or maybe calling people who give you names of other people who might know a little about it. It's quite a network you run into."

Shina has handcrafted every piece of wood -- the plane's frame is made of spruce and ash -- passing it along to Helfrich for assembly.

At a distance, the plane gleams in the sunlight and seems to be made of metal. Only up close is the wood work truly appreciated.

"I'm just a flunkie here and I was told we're going to get a wooden plane and I was going to do the woodwork," Shina said. "I'm a wood butcher. I get all the pieces, mill them down, and every piece is sanded and varnished three times. This is not like having a kit. We're doing it from scratch."

The engine looks like any old V-8, which is essentially what it is. It's a 180-horsepower, French-designed Hispano-Suiza, built by the French Air Service for World War I aircraft.

"The engine itself is strong and durable and very heavy, about 400 pounds," Helfrich said. "The whole plane is very heavy, about 2,000 pounds. ... It has a 15-gallon fuel tank and can fly for about three hours nonstop."

But normally commonplace parts can be maddeningly difficult to track down for a 1917 biplane.

"We still don't have a radiator," Helfrich said. "That's a big problem because nobody makes radiators for this type of airplane."

So Helfrich designed a cardboard mock-up of the type of radiator used on the Standard. He's planning on delivering it to a company in California that specializes in building radiators for antique cars.

"It takes about a year just to make a radiator," Helfrich said. "That's our top priority right now."

Even the plane's wood propellor is a rare item. It was handcrafted by noted propellor craftsman Ole Fahlin. The Standard's previous owner had been stashing it under his bed for 25 years.

"If we didn't have this propellor, I don't know what we'd do," Helfrich said. "I don't know if anyone can do this type of work anymore. We're very lucky to have it."

The company hasn't been keeping a running tab on the cost of parts and labor for the Standard project. Even after the plane is finished, it'll be difficult to determine the value of the antique aircraft.

"So few are in existence it's tough to determine, because these are planes that are put on display, not to buy and sell," Twin Otter President Alan Stephen said. "I'd say if you had to put a number on it, so few of these ever sell, and this is not a way to make money. It's a way of paying back aviation."

Helfrich and Shina are working on two other projects for the Planes of Fame Museum: a 1929 Stinson SM 1B and a 1929 Tribal Aire 600. Both planes were used in the early days of Grand Canyon tours.

"Over the next couple of years we'll be working on those," Helfrich said. "We have a lot of work still left to do."

Helfrich and Shina estimate that at least another six months of work is needed (discounting the work on the radiator) to finish off the Standard. What isn't certain is whether or not the plane will be "covered," its skeletal frame finished off so it will be ready for flight.

To make the plane flight-ready, an outer shell of treated cotton sheets must be applied over its entire surface area.

"We use grade-A cotton, unbleached material, and cover it with varnish," Helfrich said. "It makes it taut so the air can't move through the fabric."

The process is painstaking, time-consuming work.

"You pretty much have to disassemble the whole plane," Shina said. "Doing that takes as much work as building the airplane."

But the feeling at Twin Otter is that the old Standard will indeed fly at least a maiden voyage.

"I think we'd like to see it covered and ready for flight," Stephen said. "John (Seibold) will make the final call on that, but I think everyone would like to see it fly."

That's what it was made for, after all.

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