Quincy, Illinois, the DC-3, and a Young Boy’s Dream
My flying career actually began before I was born. My father was a Navy pilot in World War II and flew the TBM Avenger in combat from the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Enterprise. After the war, he returned to his hometown of Ottumwa, Iowa, and went to work for a lawn mower company as a salesman. Because of his flying experience, the company bought a brand-new 1947 Beechcraft Bonanza, the 21st one off the production line, that my dad flew on his sales routes.
I was born in January 1950 and was a passenger in the Bonanza many times, but have no recollection of the experience. However, as events would prove, subliminal messages may have been planted in my brain, and in the brains of my two older brothers, Ralph and Terry, as well, since we all became pilots.
In 1953, my dad changed jobs and we moved to idyllic Hannibal, Missouri, on the banks of the Mississippi River. This town was the setting for Mark Twain’s classics The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. My parents would occasionally take us up on a river bluff called Lover’s Leap, a 300-foot-high rock promontory on the south side of town. Lover’s Leap not only provided a stunning view of the town and river, but also of the lawn mower factory directly below where my dad worked as the sales manager. Although he no longer had an airplane to fly, he was still required to travel, but now by train or commercial airline.
Quincy, Illinois, was just across the river from Hannibal and had the only airport in the area with airline service. Since we only owned one car, my mother would routinely drive my dad to Quincy, where he would board an Ozark Airlines DC-3 and fly away to parts unknown. A week or so later, we would return to Quincy and pick him up. Even at this early stage of our lives, my brothers and I were already certified airplane nuts, and those trips to Quincy just fanned the flames of our enthusiasm.
One day in 1955, when I was 5 years old, my brothers and I were permitted to escort my dad out onto the ramp and into the DC-3’s cabin, where we watched as he took his seat. The plane’s captain even let us view the cockpit, resulting in a near out-of-body experience for three wide-eyed little boys. After the cabin door was closed, we stood on the ramp as the engines were started in a cloud of smoke. Another out-of-body experience occurred when we breathed in the intoxicating smell of burning oil and high-octane fuel.
The magnificent DC-3 soon thereafter taxied out for takeoff. At that point, we begged our mom to park the car at the departure end of the runway so we could watch the takeoff, and she acquiesced. Standing next to the family car, my brothers and I stood awestruck as the DC-3 thundered overhead at full power, vibrating our very souls with the sound of two radial engines hard at work making 2,400 horsepower.
Another time, we headed over to Quincy to pick up our dad and arrived a little early. With time on our hands, my brothers and I snuck into an open hangar and found a Piper J-3 Cub parked unattended with its door open. That was an invitation to us, so we climbed in and sat there playing with the control stick and throttle, pretending we were pilots.
As my dad’s arrival time drew near, we begged our mom to move the car to the approach end of the runway so that we were parked under the glide path. Again, we stood next to the family car and watched as the DC-3 roared overhead at a hundred feet and a hundred miles per hour. Heady stuff for eight-year-old Ralph, seven-year-old Terry, and five-year-old me. It was 1955, and those events set my life on a strange journey that was driven partly by my desire to become a pilot, and partly by the hand of fate.
Those idyllic days in the land of Twain came to an end in the fall of 1956 when my dad changed jobs again. This time we moved to St. Louis, Missouri. But fate was still playing her fickle hand in the journey that led me and my two brothers to a life in the skies.
We bought a house that just happened to be located on the extended centerline and 5 miles off the end of Runway 24 for Lambert Field. Dozens of times a day, huge four-engine propeller-driven airliners roared overhead, either taking off or landing, further fanning the flames of our passion for flight. I had seen all of the major airlines, such as TWA, Eastern, and American Airlines, fly over my house in four-engine propeller airplanes, but I had never seen a United Airlines airplane.
Then one hot summer day in 1960, at the age of 10, I was in my front yard when a United Airlines DC-6 flew over my house on approach to Runway 24. I was so awestruck that I made a vow to someday become a United Airlines pilot, a vow that would come true 26 years later. Then, on the cool fall morning of September 17, 1966, at the age of 16, I took the first step in making that dream come true. I ventured out to the St. Charles Airport on my Honda 90 motorcycle and took my first flying lesson, in a J-3 Cub.
I graduated from college in 1973 at age 23 with a Commercial Pilot’s License, Flight Instructor Rating, Instrument Rating, and a Multi-Engine Rating, plus about 1,700 hours in my logbook. Then fate played her final hand in my journey through the skies. Although I couldn’t see it at the time, I was moving inexorably back to Quincy, Illinois, and this time it would be one of the strangest events in my entire flying career. But that was still four years away…
Upon graduation from college, I was hired by Skyway Airlines, a vibrant commuter airline based at Forney Army Airfield at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. Skyway was stuck in a time warp. We had five 1954 radial-engine, tailwheel Beech 18s along with two modern turboprop Beech 99 Airliners. Then, in 1974, we really stepped back in time and bought a 1943 Douglas DC-3A that had previously been a corporate airplane. We quickly discarded the plane’s eight luxury seats and replaced them with 30 standard passenger seats, making it a commuter airliner.
During my five years at Skyway, I advanced up the ladder from Beech 18 copilot all the way to chief pilot, and finally, DC-3 captain. I would routinely fly our beloved “Three” on scheduled passenger flights in the late 1970s of up to six legs a day all across our route system in the state of Missouri. But most of my flying involved off-line passenger charters, and it was in this venue that it happened, as it was surely meant to.
I reported for work on December 28, 1977, and received my assignment from the dispatcher. It was a DC-3 charter flight, and our destination was Quincy, Illinois!
The author, age 27, as captain of the DC-3 featured in this story (1977).
The itinerary showed a ferry flight from Fort Leonard Wood to Joplin, Missouri, where we would pick up the Missouri Southern University basketball team. We would then fly them to Quincy for one of their games.
Later that day, when I lined up on final approach to Runway 3 at Quincy’s Baldwin Field, it occurred to me that a dream born 17 years earlier had finally come full circle. Thundering over the fence at a hundred feet and a hundred miles per hour, I was thrilled at the significance of returning to Quincy not only in a DC-3, but as its captain.
I even flew over the very road where I had once stood next to my mom’s car as a boy. But sadly, there were no little faces down there looking up, wide-eyed, and wishing they were me.
Another view of the 1943 DC-3A that the author flew in this story.
His professional credentials include 5 years as captain, training officer, and chief pilot for a commuter airline where he flew the DC-3, Beech 18, and Beech 99 in scheduled passenger operations, and 6 years as Director of Training for both FlightSafety International and Simuflite’s King Air Division. In addition, Joel flew the King Air 200 as a corporate pilot for 2 years in the DFW area.
Turpin was subsequently hired by United Airlines in 1986 where he flew the Boeing 727, 737, 757 and 767 in both domestic and international operations including 100 oceanic crossings, and several equator crossings. Turpin retired in 2015 at age 65 and currently has some 30,000 hours in his log book.
He is currently employed as captain and chief pilot flying the Pilatus PC-12NG for a company in Pennsylvania. Joel has been a current and active flight instructor since 1970 and teaches instrument flying in a variety of single engine airplanes. Turpin also writes technical articles and conducts seminars for general aviation pilots with an emphasis on instrument flying and airplane systems. In addition, Turpin also writes flying stories based on his personal experiences as a pilot.
In 2016, Joel Turpin earned the FAA Wright Brothers Master Pilot Award for 50 years of flying accident and violation free, and for his contribution to aviation safety for all those years. His professional qualifications include:Airline Transport Pilot License, Certified Flight Instructor with Instrument and Multi-engine ratings, Turbojet Flight Engineer, Advanced Ground Instructor, Type Ratings in the DC-3, B-737, B757 and B-767, and the FAA’s Wright Brothers Master Pilot Award.
He currently lives in Punta Gorda, Florida with his wife, who is a United Airlines flight attendant. While Joel has had an amazing career in aviation spanning over six decades, he still considers himself to be just a general aviation pilot who got lucky.
- Quincy, Illinois, the DC-3, and a Young Boy’s Dream - August 12, 2026
- A Lesson on Being the Pilot In Command - June 5, 2026
- All I’ve Gotta Do Is… - March 13, 2026
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