How to make a name

The word has long been the trademarked name of a well-known vacuum cleaner. To the British, it’s a verb meaning to vacuum the carpet. A bright, hard-charging engineer added stature to the name, but then he became President and was blamed, fairly or not, for the Great Depression, so the name was tarnished. Then a young man became head of the newly formed Federal Bureau of Investigation and took the name to new heights of splendor as a crime fighter, then to the depths when his violation of fairness, assaults on American freedoms, and unpopular personal life became known.

But when Robert Hoover died last week at the age of 94, he left nothing but accolades surrounding the name of Hoover. Lauded by some of the nation’s most famous flyers as the best pilot ever, Hoover won fame as an air show entertainer, performing aerobatics with a skill unmatched by other pilots. From all accounts, he was not just a capable pilot who understood the mechanical aspects of flight, but combined exceptional technical knowledge with an almost mystical connection with both sky and machine. He seemed one with the aircraft, handling it with a deft touch, performing intricate maneuvers with smoothness and split-second timing. A man who can pour himself a cup of tea while performing a barrel roll and who puts a business aircraft through a heart-stopping demonstration of aerobatics and then steps out of the plane to greet his audience wearing a three-piece suit and necktie and carrying an attache’ case is the epitome of both talent and cool.

In looking into the life of Bob Hoover, though, I was impressed by far more than just his amazing flying ability. I don’t have many heroes, a term long since diluted into mostly silliness, but those few I have are likely to be of the group, or at least of the type, Bob Hoover exemplified, the cohort that came through a decade of the Depression and then found itself fighting a war for the survival of freedom. A Nashville kid who bought flying lessons and then joined the Tennessee Army National Guard, first serving as an aircraft tail gunner, he became a fighter pilot in World War II. He was flying a Spitfire, a beautiful English-made aircraft, out of Italy when, on his 59th mission, he was shot down by a German adversary. He ended up in a POW camp, but eventually escaped, stole a German fighter, and flew to the Netherlands and safety.

Wars are won by mostly unsung sloggers, doing their utmost, facing death, living on the edge of despair. And mostly quite young. A few stand out from the mass, a beacon for others. Hoover was one such, 22 years old at the time he was shot down. It is from this band of the young men of my childhood, the unsung and the noted, that I draw my heroes, if any.

Following the end of World War II, Hoover was a test pilot, then left the service for a variety of flying jobs, culminating most prominently in aerobatics performed around the country. But he kept in contact with the armed forces, ready to lend a hand when needed. He demonstrated various aircraft, provided specialized training in South Korea during the Korean War, and generally shared his expertise wherever needed. In fact, he was famous for advising and helping anyone who needed his assistance. By the time of his death, a long roster of pilots, civilian and military, could look back in gratitude for the expert advice, some of it life-saving, that they had been given at some point by the man the famous General Jimmy Doolittle, no slouch himself when it came to skillful flying, called “the greatest stick and rudder man who ever lived.”

You can’t do Robert Hoover justice in a short newspaper column. He was drawn to an occupation that fit him perfectly. When his country called, he offered up his services, at great risk, with no bonus to encourage him to sign up. At the time he was shot down and imprisoned, he was drawing the magnificent sum $250 a month base pay, plus $125 a month flight pay. For the rest of his life, he did good work, was generous with his assistance, friendly to all with whom he came in contact, liked and admired by the lowly and the highly placed. When he “slipped the surly bonds of earth,” he left the Hoover name glowing with new luster.

This story was originally published November 5, 2016 at 6:00 PM with the headline "How to make a name."