Summer is finally here and it got me to thinking about the hydroplane races on Lake Washington.  Having just celebrated the 4th of July I thought it might be appropriate to bring you a story on Mira Slovak; the famous pilot of the Miss Wahoo. It is a story that talks about the desire to be free and it brings back memories of my childhood, hydroplanes and the Pink Lady.

There were many memories of working with my father in his workshop building a wooden hydroplane; the Hawaii Kai. We would tie the boats to the backs of our bicycles and run them around the baseball diamond; nails in back of the boat provided the rooster tail effect.

I wanted to share an article written by Bob Karolevitz on Mira Slovak and his flight to freedom. They have just recently restored the Miss Wahoo; you’ll find the photos interspersed throughout the article. I spoke with David Williams at the Hydroplane and Raceboat  Museum in Seattle and he directed me to some photos by Jim Clark Photography. If your a hydroplane buff; they are both great sites!

Dr Randy Pillow (on the left) longtime hydroplane racing enthusiast and Seafair supporter sharing a moment with Myra Slovak in 2009. Dr. Pillow is a friend of mine who served as a driver, owner, medic, and general chairman for numerous hydroplane races throughout the Pacific Northwest from 1950 to 1975.

The men who pilot unlimited hydroplanes are a brave, speed-loving lot with many interesting stories to tell. One such story begins when the late Major General Claire L. Chennault unfolded a letter which reached him in Taipei, Taiwan. The writer was a crop-dusting pilot in Yakima, Washington, a young man whose message moved the fighting old general who knew first-hand the ravages of Communism.

The letter read:
“I escaped from Communist-controlled Czechoslovakia last year by flying an airliner from Prague to Frankfurt, West Germany. I was granted political asylum in the United States in December, 1953. I feel an obligation to fight against the Communists because I saw what happened in my country. I will fly with you, against the Communists, anywhere, and for no salary. I have only one wish in my life and that is to fight these terrible aggressors.”

The letter was sent by Myra Slovak who later became a favorite of many hydroplane fans here in the Pacific Northwest.

The escape would be made on a scheduled flight from Prague to Brno. Mira would be the pilot of a C-47 Dakota which would carry 26 passengers and three crew members. Among the passengers were Hana and Helmut Cermak and Bozidar Medic, a television engineer who was a last-minute addition to the conspiracy. At 7:20 p.m. the plane lumbered down the runway and took off in the direction of Brno, 115 miles to the southeast.

Once in flight, Slovak turned the controls over to his Communist co-pilot and walked back among the passengers. Helmut Cermak and Medic then accompanied him up front on the pretext of seeing the pilots’ compartment. With weapons brought aboard by the pilot, the escapees overpowered the other crew members and locked them in a baggage compartment. Almost casually Slovak made his final radio contact over Benesov, then tipped the ship downward in a steep dive.

Leveling out well under 1,000 feet, which was below the effective radar screen, the pilot banked the plane sharply toward the west and the 45-minute hedge-hopping flight to freedom. At any moment they expected MIG fighters to pounce upon them. As an additional menace, an attempt was made by Communist passengers to break down the door of the pilots’ compartment. Mira pulled back hard on the wheel and then shoved it forward quickly. The effect was like hitting a huge air pocket and the lurching plane dissuaded any further passenger counter-revolt.

By this time colored lights began to appear in the towns and cities below them. “We knew we were over West Germany then,” explained Mira. “In Czechoslovakia we had no such lights, just dim white ones because of the power shortage.”

Circling high above the American Air Force Base at Rhein-Main, Slovak contacted a passing jet and was led down. The time was then 9:50, and a more suspenseful two-and-a-half-hour drama could not he created on stage or film.

This chapter of Mira Slovak’s life came to a close when he and five of his passengers were granted political asylum, and the next morning headlines throughout the Free World proclaimed the escape.

For over a year Mira worked closely with the U. S. Air Force, in Germany and in Washington, D. C., where he arrived in December of 1953. For his cooperation during those long months of interrogation, he won permanent residency in the United States.

The rest of Mira’s story — from crop-duster to hydroplane pilot — is familiar to all devotees of the sport.

Jim Clark sent me a photo of Mira Slovak riding in the Wahoo with David Williams, Director of the Hydroplane Museum, at Seafair last year, The one on the right is Miss Wahoo.

This post was from Mark Clawson who helps Kathy with the blog site for Good Cheer.

Kathy will be back on Friday for more Good Cheer!