The distinctive T-6 howl, that MMMRRROWWRRMmmm, resonates with a captivating intensity, simultaneously deafening and penetrating. “The roar of that engine is the ultimate thrill, as you accelerate down the runway, lifting off into the air, executing all these intricate maneuvers to retract the landing gear,” Martha Lunken reflects, her aviation experience spanning back to the early 1960s. “It’s simply exhilarating.” However, according to Mark Henley, lead pilot of the Aeroshell Aerobatic Team, which has been showcasing T-6 aircraft since 2001, the allure extends beyond mere sound. “We believe in ample noise, abundant smoke, and a presence that commands attention,” he asserts. “And the T-6 embodies all three.”

The T-6 Texan garners more attention than any other warbird globally, engaging the senses of sight, smell, touch, and even flight itself. With over 500 T-6s (including variants such as SNJs and Harvards) currently operational in the United States alone, its omnipresence at airshows is undeniable. But why such popularity? The North American Trainer Association, dedicated to enthusiasts of T-6s, T-28s, and similar trainers, attributes it to the aircraft’s affordability and accessibility.

Norm Goyer, a Navy Aviation Cadet Training Program graduate towards the end of World War II, reminisces about his initial flights at Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn during the summer of 1945. Upon leaving the Navy, Goyer acquired two Texans for a mere $450 each. “I often tell people, it was the sturdiest aircraft ever built,” he reminisces. “With its North American airframe, Hamilton Standard prop, and Pratt & Whitney engine, it boasted unmatched quality.” Similarly, Scully Levin, leading a T-6 aerobatic team in South Africa, reveres the aircraft’s durability: “The T-6 epitomizes ruggedness, sturdiness, as robust as a battleship.”

The T-6’s longevity stems from its robust engineering and mass production during World War II. North American Aviation and its international licensees churned out over 17,000 units. Its resilience and longevity, however, set it apart; it remained relevant long after the war. “There was an abundance of surplus post-war,” Steve Larmore, a T-6 and P-51 instructor at Stallion 51 in Kissimmee, Florida, explains. “Even in the ’50s, they were refurbishing them as G-models. Their 15% over-engineering ensured enduring durability.”

Fred Telling, president of the T-6 Air Racing Association, underscores not only the aircraft’s longevity but also its ease of maintenance. “I liken the T-6 to a 1957 Chevy,” he muses. “They were among the last vehicles that could be dismantled and reassembled by individuals with basic mechanical skills.”

Mike Ginter exemplifies this sentiment; to cut costs during annual inspections, he dismantles his T-6 personally. “With a Zeus tool and a screwdriver, I can remove all the panels in just eight hours,” he explains. “Thirty or forty panels in total. Doing the grunt work myself significantly reduces inspection expenses.”

Regardless of the T-6’s purpose in contemporary aviation—be it for recreational flights, competitive racing, captivating airshows, scenic rides, or its traditional role in pilot instruction—adequate assistance is available. However, mastering the art of piloting this aircraft remains no small feat. Apart from possessing a teachable spirit, Ginter emphasizes another indispensable requirement for T-6 aviators: financial means. Although its expenses may pale in comparison to those of vintage warbird fighters and bombers, the T-6 is no ordinary Cessna Skyhawk; rather, it stands as an exemplar of advanced military training aircraft.

Family Heirloom

Taylor Stevenson, aged 26, reminisces that his family’s lineage has been intertwined with the T-6 since his infancy. “My inaugural flight in the T-6 dates back to when I was merely a toddler, around two or three years old,” reflects the younger Stevenson. He accomplished his inaugural solo flight in the same aircraft at the age of 22. Mark Henley, leader of the Aeroshell team, recounts how flying the Texan seemed a customary affair since his father acquired one in 1973 when he was merely 14. “Flying whatever we had was a natural inclination,” Henley remarks. “And we happened to have a T-6.”

Occasionally, the decision to acquire one can stem from impulsive inclinations. Gordon Stevenson, Taylor’s father, procured his after encountering one at an airshow, even before undergoing any flight training. Similarly, Fred Telling plunged into T-6 racing after witnessing the trainers compete at the Reno air races. “I thought, ‘I could do that, that’d be fun!'” Telling recollects, chuckling at his wife’s incredulous reaction. “I didn’t know anything about T-6s other than watching them and seeing them in the pits.”

However, most aspirant T-6 pilots deliberate their choice meticulously. Acknowledging its moniker as “The Pilot Maker,” these pilots are well aware of the substantial prerequisites for owning and operating a T-6.

“I refer to it as a 5,000-pound tail-dragger with a feisty temperament,” comments Steve Larmore, who boasts 4,600 hours of flight time in the airplane, primarily as an instructor. “It’s a sheer joy to navigate through the skies, but it can easily swerve on the ground.” Norm Goyer illustrates it vividly, “When you have 5,980 pounds eager to veer off course, a mere tap on the rudder pedal won’t suffice,” he remarks. “You might need two 500-pound guys standing on it.” Larmore stipulates a prerequisite for pilots with minimal tail-dragger experience, advising them to accumulate numerous landings, preferably in a Pitts or any aircraft where maintaining stability demands effort, before transitioning to the T-6.

Owning and flying Texans can incur substantial expenses. Presently, the base price of an airworthy T-6 ranges from $150,000 to $250,000 or more. “Annually, thousands of dollars are poured into maintaining the airplane, on top of expenses like hangar fees, insurance, and fuel,” remarks Ginter. “Fuel costs approximately six dollars per gallon, and the T-6 guzzles 30 gallons per hour. Thus, the operational cost amounts to about $180 per hour. Factoring in additional expenses such as oil, parachute maintenance every 180 days, and subscription to aeronautical charts, the total operating cost hovers around $500 per hour.”

For individuals of average means and time constraints, the most feasible path to owning a T-6 likely involves joining a Commemorative Air Force squadron. Many such squadrons nationwide possess at least one T-6, and CAF membership grants regular access to the aircraft and involvement in its maintenance. For many enthusiasts, this suffices to fulfill their aviation aspirations.

However, for some, this isn’t enough. Rob Krieg, a Marine veteran, alongside his wife Amy, enlisted in a CAF squadron in Virginia to address his “profound aviation obsession,” as he describes it. Krieg utilized the squadron’s aircraft to accumulate tail-dragger experience. “I’m akin to a typical air cadet from the ’40s,” he jests. “I commenced my training in a primary trainer, then progressed to the BT-13, and now I’ve transitioned to a T-6.” In early 2015, he split the cost of a T-6 with two partners, one of whom is still undergoing flight training. Krieg adopts a philosophical outlook on the expenses involved. “Warbirds come with a hefty price tag,” he concedes, “but so does golf. I often jest with my golfing companions that it’s a comparable expenditure—except they spend the whole day, while I’m done in an hour.”

Self-Governance

Enthusiasts of the T-6 aircraft exhibit a remarkable degree of organization, owing in part to the substantial presence of warbird fan clubs such as the Commemorative Air Force and the Experimental Aircraft Association’s Warbirds of America. However, the most well-established training programs in formation flying and racing for T-6 pilots, as well as the broader warbird community, are predominantly affiliated with two groups: the North American Trainer Association (NATA) and the T-6 Racing Association.

NATA initiated its Formation and Safety Team curriculum back in 1987, aimed at equipping T-6 pilots with the necessary skills to engage in formations. The attainment of a FAST card signifies competence in flying within formations, which can expand to include up to 20 aircraft, and occasionally, even more. Taylor Stevenson, one of NATA’s younger members, epitomizes the spirit of the program, emphasizing a collective ethos of support and skill development. “It’s a sort of paying it forward,” he remarks. “Everyone pitches in at formation clinics, investing their resources so that others can obtain certification. Our aim is to ensure thorough checks for all participants.”

Similarly, the T-6 Racing Association was driven by a similar ethos, spurred on by individuals like Telling, who contributed to the formulation of a structured curriculum for T-6 racers. “For quite some time, T-6 aircraft were overlooked in the warbirds community,” he reflects. “Planes like Bearcats and Mustangs seemed to occupy a different league altogether.” It wasn’t until 1968 that T-6s were introduced to racing at Reno, and they’ve been a fixture there since 1981.

“In the early days, racing participants often lacked experience with pylon racing or formation flying,” Telling explains, highlighting the backgrounds of many pilots, ranging from cropdusters to ex-military aviators, who adapted swiftly to the demands of racing. However, the landscape changed in the late 1990s with the introduction of the pylon racing school by the Reno Air Racing Association, a pivotal step in enhancing safety measures. Today, the T-6 Racing Association mandates possession of a FAST card, effectively filtering out novices, while the pylon racing school hones participants’ skills further.

Over time, the T-6 Racing Association refined its approach to racing training, expanding from rudimentary hand-drawn diagrams to comprehensive animated video presentations. Following the tragic P-51D crash involving Jimmy Leeward in 2011, which claimed 10 lives, including spectators, Telling notes that their curriculum gained approval from the Federal Aviation Administration as the standard for training across other racing classes. This curriculum caters to rookies and seasoned veterans alike.

“It’s been a tremendous journey,” Telling remarks with pride. “We’ve established a benchmark of competence and consistency that’s accessible to all. It’s a testament to our commitment to safety and excellence.”

When the T-6 Is Your Job

T-6 aircraft serve purposes beyond mere recreation. Mark Henley, the lead pilot for Aeroshell, finds the T-6 to be an optimal performer, especially when backed by substantial sponsorship. He asserts that airshow revenue typically covers expenses, contrasting sharply with the prohibitively high operational costs associated with flying a Mustang.

Larry Arken, heading the GEICO Skytypers, utilizes T-6s for dual roles: participating in airshow teams and serving as skywriting platforms, projecting expansive messages through vapor for various clients. Arken highlights the aircraft’s adeptness in formations and its ample capacity for carrying smoke oil, essential for skytyping missions. He contends that no other aircraft matches the T-6 in suitability for both airshow performances and skywriting endeavors, particularly from an economic standpoint.

The T-6’s dual cockpit configuration makes it well-suited for offering rides, as evidenced by numerous operations listed on warbirdalley.com. Larmore, an early adopter of this business model, recalls barnstorming with multiple T-6s across various markets, conducting numerous rides per day throughout the country.

Despite the extensive use of vintage airframes for these rides, the durability of the T-6 remains impressive. Henley cites his own airframe’s 7,000 flight hours as relatively modest, noting that ride operators often accumulate 14,000 to 15,000 hours without significant issues, attesting to the aircraft’s resilience.

Planet T-6

Texans, SNJs, Harvards, and Yales (early T-6s intended for France but ending up in Canada) grace the skies of almost every continent and adorn the skies of numerous nations. From the Canadian Harvard Aircraft Association to Brazil’s Oi demonstration team, from New Zealand’s Red Checkers to the Roaring Forties teams, and the T-6 Harvard Aviation in the United Kingdom, enthusiasts offer rides, demonstrations, and filming opportunities.

However, no nation’s contribution to the T-6 legacy is as significant as that of South Africa.

“In 2015, we commemorate 75 years of the Harvard’s presence in South African airspace,” remarks Scully Levin, a veteran who transitioned from the South African Air Force to piloting passenger jetliners for South African Airways over a span of 38 years. “From 1940 to 1995, they served as our primary trainers,” he reflects, noting that in 1995, the air force boasted a fleet of over 120 T-6s.

Levin holds the T-6 in high regard for its training capabilities, akin to his American counterparts. Yet, he acknowledges South Africa’s unique circumstances until 1994: “Sanctions were imposed due to the apartheid policy, making it challenging to procure alternative aircraft. With an abundance of Harvards, which performed admirably, they were retained.”

Upon the aircraft’s eventual decommissioning in 1995, Morey Darznieks, owner of Lance Aircraft, seized the opportunity at the spares auction in South Africa, acquiring nearly all available components and shipping them back to Dallas. “He practically acquired everything South Africa had,” Levin laments. Nevertheless, T-6 pilots worldwide credit the South African spares as invaluable resources for the aircraft’s maintenance and longevity. Levin expresses regret at their departure from South Africa and the subsequent necessity to repurchase parts amidst currency devaluation.

Despite these challenges, South Africa maintains active Harvard Clubs, with an estimated 35 T-6s still operational in the country. Levin himself continues to derive joy from flying the aircraft, both recreationally and professionally. As the lead pilot for the Eqstra Flying Lions, a formation aerobatic team, he attests to the enduring appeal of the T-6. “Wherever we perform, our four Harvards steal the spotlight,” he asserts. “Audiences are captivated by the sound, the aircraft’s charisma, its aesthetic appeal, and our precise maneuvers.” Levin proudly notes their innovation, particularly the water-skiing Harvard maneuver, where the formation descends with landing gear deployed to skim the surface of a lake.

Harvard v. iPad

Much like other vintage aircraft, the T-6’s future hinges on its ability to captivate the interest of the younger generation. Taylor Stevenson, a millennial pilot of the T-6, recognizes his rarity in the field. Accompanied by a few peers in their twenties who share his passion for flying these historic planes, Stevenson reflects on the mix of excitement and apprehension that comes with the territory. “It’s exhilarating to see guys our age piloting these remarkable aircraft and cherishing their historical significance,” he remarks. “Yet, it’s disconcerting knowing there are so few of us.”

For Larmore, the definition of “youth” varies. “The upcoming generation isn’t as deeply connected to World War II, particularly if they lack familial ties to the era,” he observes. “However, for individuals in their forties, fifties, and sixties, the connection remains strong. I foresee this continuity persisting for the next decade or two. Many military retirees in their late forties or early fifties gravitate towards the T-6. The sentimentality surrounding it endures.”

Mark Clark, proprietor of Courtesy Aircraft in Rockford, Illinois, sheds light on the demographics of T-6 enthusiasts. “Most of my T-6 clientele are younger than me,” he reveals. “It’s not uncommon for customers in their forties, thirties, or even early twenties to express interest in purchasing them.” Clark observes a growing trend among owners who value both the historical significance and practicality of the T-6. “In the mid-seventies, the focus was primarily on flying surplus aircraft, often repainted in generic schemes,” he recalls. “However, there has been a gradual shift towards meticulously restored, historically accurate representations.”

New custodians like Rob Krieg, a member of the CAF, approach their ownership role with a sense of stewardship. “We’re merely temporary caretakers,” he asserts. “My hope is that this aircraft will outlive me, passing into the hands of another devoted guardian.”

This legacy mindset resonates deeply within the T-6 community, despite its waning prominence as a contemporary training aircraft. “Aviation has evolved,” acknowledges Levin. “Today, proficiency with an Apple iPad seems to correlate with piloting prowess. As a traditionalist, I maintain that the newer Pilatus trainers of the South African Air Force cannot produce pilots superior to those trained on the Harvards.”

Bill Fischer, executive director of EAA’s Warbirds of America, acknowledges the ongoing challenge of engaging younger pilots. “However, our warbirds section remains a focal point, with 97 percent of AirVenture attendees making their way to our exhibits,” he notes. “The T-6 continues to be a centerpiece, with 50 to 75 aircraft participating each year.”

In the realm of T-6 aviation, numbers are paramount. Here’s to their enduring abundance.

T-6 World

In the heart of the T-6 community lies a sprawling 70,000-square-foot warehouse nestled in Dallas, serving as the hub for Lance Aircraft Supply. Every T-6 owner relies on this tight-knit, family-operated establishment.

“We possess approximately 95 percent of the remaining spare parts for the aircraft,” affirms John Darznieks, who manages the enterprise alongside his parents and sister. “Of that, roughly 90 percent comprises pristine surplus—never before affixed to an airframe.”

The Darznieks family envisions no scenario where their inventory might run dry. “Our clientele, with their venerable 70-year-old aircraft, enjoy swifter access to parts than those with Cessnas, Gulfstreams, and the like,” remarks John Darznieks. “They can have their requisites delivered the very next day, provided they don’t reach out too late in the afternoon.”

How did such a remarkable abundance become consolidated in one locale?

“I had to make ends meet,” recounts Morey Darznieks, patriarch of the family. Hailing from Latvia, his life story is one of continual reinvention.

Arriving in Columbiana, Ohio, during childhood as part of an immigrant family, Morey ventured to California in pursuit of prosperity as a young man. There, he carved a niche as a mechanic, subsequently transitioning into a sales role for an aircraft parts supplier. However, the stifling smog of the San Fernando Valley proved too taxing for his asthmatic son, prompting his acceptance of an offer from another aircraft parts firm in Dallas. Yet, upon arrival from California with his family, he discovered the company had folded. Undeterred, he established Lance Aircraft Supply from the confines of his carport. Incorporated in 1967, the enterprise outgrew its modest beginnings, expanding from a carport to a second residence and eventually into the warehouse it is today. When tragedy struck in the mid-1970s with the warehouse ablaze, Darznieks commenced anew.

Embarking on global expeditions, he scoured distant corners of the world for T-6 engines and propellers to bolster crop-dusting endeavors across the United States, endeared by farmers for the Texan’s steadfast reliability. His acquisitions didn’t end there; he also brought back airframes, securing one of his most significant hauls in India, where the air force had retired the Texan and the Harvard in the 1970s.

Darznieks remained entrenched in the engine trade until 1983, when the Reagan administration ushered in a subsidies program that wreaked havoc on the agricultural sector. “The demise of the cropdusting industry was imminent,” Darznieks recalls. “Our engine sales plummeted from four a month to nil.” It was yet another chapter necessitating a fresh start.

The entire family rallied to take stock of their airframe parts inventory, subsequently embarking on their sale. From this familial endeavor emerged an enterprise. Sometime in 1983 or 1984, Darznieks procured the company that North American had licensed for T-6 parts manufacturing. By 1986, he had absorbed his primary competitor, Chesapeake Airways, partly motivated, he claims, by a desire to shield the T-6 supply chain from “a clique of attorneys from Philly aiming to acquire and monopolize, catering solely to the affluent.” He holds in high regard the efforts of T-6 enthusiasts in preserving the aircraft’s history and significance; he had no interest in witnessing a substantial portion of them priced beyond reach.

When queried about his insistence on a specific profit margin, the elder Darznieks elucidates his pricing methodology, dubbed “the WAG system.” “I’m assuming you’re acquainted with it,” he remarks.

“We are not,” came the response.

“You eyeball a part and make a Wild Ass Guess about its value,” he elaborates. “We calculate its production cost and endeavor to stay below that.”

His travels have taken him to 45 nations to acquire their air force inventories. When he secured the South African air force’s stockpile in 1998, he ensured that Lance Aircraft would retain its status as the premier T-6 supplier. But could he himself pilot one? “Oh, no,” he chuckles. “I lack the acumen to be a pilot.”