Howard Hesseman, Peter Boyle and me - comedy in Baja

The blind faith of friends -

Dec 01, 2023

It was July of 1971. I hadn’t had my Cessna for very long. In fact, I hadn’t had my pilot’s license for very long. But as I found out, my friends often had faith, blind faith, in my ability and judgement.

One of these friends, Howard Hesseman, and I were talking about Mexico’s Baja California over dinner one night. He hadn’t been. Neither had I. He knew I had an airplane and so he just said let’s fly down there…. It was really his idea, but I thought, why not ?

Howard, an actor, was not working at the time ( this was long before his days as the star of WKRP in Cincinnati )

We both had free time.

I knew Howard from our days in San Franscisco’s North Beach. He was an integral part of The Committee, the great comedy group.

I was developing my nascent photography career.

Howard suggested that his friend Peter Boyle would enjoy the trip as well. Peter was higher up on the Hollywood ziggurat having starred in the films JOE and The Candidate. He was later to be better know for his role in Young Frankenstein and Everybody Loves Raymond. I think Howard thought the trip would impress Peter. I was surprised that they both were willing to fly with me.

I picked up Howard, we drove to my plane at Santa Monica and flew over to the Burbank Airport. I taxied over the commercial terminal looking for Peter. He wasn’t aroud. After waiting, Howard called him and of course he was at the Private Plane Terminal on the other side of the airport. I was ignorant of its existence. A clue to my inexperience.

Peter, having waited 45 minutes, was livid, and wanted to call the whole thing off. But Howard was able to talk him down.

We took off as a cloud bank was heading in from the shore. Tijuana airport, it turned out, was shut down, Fogged in.

We turned eastward over the desert hoping to circumvent the storm and cross into Mexicali. We landed on El Mirage Dry Lake to wait it out. We waited.

When we finally took off, low under the clouds, Howard quipped:

“.. Thus the pilot made his fatal mistake ..”

The border agents at the Mexicali airport looked with some askance at us as traveling minstrels. But they let us through.

My Baja aviation charts were vague, but we found a short dirt strip, El Barrill, on a small sandy mesa cliff overlooking a deserted beach. We swam and slept on the beach

Next morning an official looking person came by and announced that this was private beach. We gave him a six pack of beer which made it all ok.

In the air again, Peter, commented on our flight as a WWII script filled with comic adventure and irony,

The convenience of the Cessna is its dual controls which allowed Peter to have his hands on the yoke without the possibility of disaster.

They assumed their roles, now as intrepid aviators, pilots of the early days of aviation. Peter donned a vintage leather flying cap that he brought along, probably with that anticipation. He sighted imaginary enemy targets on the ground.

Howard continued his dramatic interpretation of our flight.

Its alway interesting, from my point of view, what induces flying fear in my friends. Turbulence, usually harmless, does. But at one point I sideslipped to have a look at a fishing boat and the engine sputtered and lost power for a couple of seconds. This actually freightened me. It was just the fuel in the high wing talk momentarily slewing away from the intake port. But still… the propeller turning is essential.

Howard and Peter thought it was funny. Though Howard being at the controls tested his perennial casual life attitude.

Mulege, was the most developed town we landed at. There was fuel, from old barrels, pumped by teen agers.

Behind the Serinidad bar, Peter and Howard discovered an outdoor stage and improvised a vaudeville routine. They had an appreciative audience of two chickens.

Peter had imaginings of temporary romance with a Mexican lady and was trying very hard, if not subtly. He came back very late one night. It was never clear.

I must say I was caught up in Peter and Howard’s wild aspirations, beyond the realm of reality as they were. They were improvising and inventing appealing scenarios, scenarios beyond the envelope of safety.

“That Island over there…let’s go land on the beach …”

It fell upon me to be the conservative voice. Not my usual role.

I thought that they might be encouraged to learn to fly, but in the end it was really just another film role for four days. But they took me to imaginary flying places I probably would never have thought of on my own.