If you’ve ever watched a polished aluminum airframe as it coursed majestically through a summer sunset sky, you know that an aircraft doesn’t need paint to fly. They might even fly better without it, given that it can add somewhere between 273 and 544 kilogrammes1 to a typical airliner airframe. Based on the industry standard of eighty-four kilogrammes per passenger, the aircraft’s fancy paint job means it’s leaving between three and six fare-paying passengers in the terminal.

Inspired by BluFly Trusted Contributor2 Jason Hampton’s excellent photograph of Air Spray’s evergreen-themed BAe 146 captured in the wild, some livery-related stories:

Unlike the commercial imperatives primarily driving many special aircraft paint schemes, there are some liveries that seem to be purely exercises in exquisite aesthetics. When I think about this, it’s this design, rendered by Duncan Aviation of Lincoln, Nebraska, that often first comes to mind. While it doesn’t hurt that the Pilatus PC-12 is one of my favourites, this exquisite livery brings out the absolute best in the elegant, Swiss aircraft and speaks eloquently on its behalf.

As just one small, initial indication of the fine art component to this design, it was completed in collaboration with noted Livingston, Montana-based artist Derek DeYoung,3 who has spent a significant portion of his career re-defining the look of traditional fly fishing art. A poke around the artist’s website will provide some strong hints as to DeYoung’s unique style, as well as some strong hints as to how the rest of the PC-12 looks. However, I can’t imagine a more unique and challenging canvas for DeYoung’s artwork.

All that said, my jottings cannot possibly do the aircraft justice. Therefore, I’m delighted to let you know that coming up later in May, Eric Anderson, of Duncan Aviation, will be sharing a ton of detail about the one-of-a-kind aerial work of art. I’m intentionally teasing it with this one photograph chosen to not give away the entire design before Eric’s excellent article comes out shortly on BluFly’s Avergreen imprint.

Also, because true beauty is more than skin deep, Eric’s article will cover all the upgrades to this particular PC-12 both inside and out. There’s even an interesting Canadian connection that captured this Canuck’s attention that I’ll try and tease out of Eric as well. But I have likely already given away too much—follow BluFly on either Bluesky or LinkedIn to be the first to know when the entire story of this magnificent PC-12 is out.

Oh, yes, and a final related thought: as I always say, if my Lotto Max numbers come in, I am not going to shout it from the rooftops. However, there will be signs: one of the first will be me planning a flight in my newly acquired, civilian version of the CT-102B Astra II (if you know, you know.) The first station stop on this imaginary flight will be Livingston, Montana, and thence onwards to Lincoln, Nebraska, so that the collaborators DeYoung and Duncan can work their unique magic on my dream aircraft.

One thing that special aircraft liveries are not, is new. As far back as 1911, and with the participation of no less than the Wright Brothers in the form of their Wright EX biplane, Calbraith Perry Rodgers departed Sheepshead Bay, New York, in pursuit of a $50,000 prize for the first flight across the continental United States.4

Around the same time, Chicago meatpacking magnate J. Ogden Armour wanted to get the name, and hopefully shortly thereafter, his new Vin Fiz grape drink, on the lips of Americans from coast to coast. He spotted a unique opportunity in Rodgers’ flight and agreed to pay the pilot the bet-hedging fee of five dollars for each mile successfully flown east of the Mississippi. In return, Rodgers agreed to paint VIN FIZ — THE IDEAL GRAPE DRINK, along with its logo, on the lower, visible surfaces of the delicate, diaphanous aircraft.

Incidentally, the prize money for the flight was put up by the quintessential attention junkie, William Randolph Hearst, with one stipulation: the journey to the eventual destination of Pasadena, California, had to be completed in thirty days or less.

An interesting historical footnote about the flight: west of the mighty Mississippi, assuming the Vin Fiz actually made it that far, the fee paid dropped to an even more parsimonious four dollars per mile.6 This was presumably a reflection of the sparser population in the wild west, and therefore fewer eyeballs to look up at the aircraft and trigger a spontaneous hankering for grape soda.

Rodgers eventually made it to Pasadena in the Wright EX. However, with the many crashes and attendant repairs along the way, there was seemingly little left of the original aircraft that departed Sheepshead Bay. Most of it had been replaced with spare parts. Even so, in a final irony, it took forty-nine days for Rodgers and the Vin Fiz to make the journey—nineteen days longer than it needed to be in order for Rodgers to collect the prize money. While Hearst was a man of many extravagances and dalliances, that did not extend to this case, and Hearst did not part with the cash. Apparently, in the Hearst canon, a deal was a deal, no exceptions, even for derring-do aviators like Rodgers.

Not surprisingly, the hero’s welcome Rodgers and the Vin Fiz received provided its own form of intoxicating gratification. Perhaps caught up in that, and the historical moment, the pilot went above and beyond the original requirement and flew on to Long Beach, further west. There, Rodgers ceremoniously and poetically dipped the wheels of the Vin Fiz in the Pacific. While the extraordinary flight across the United States didn’t claim his life—despite a number of miraculously close calls—Rodgers did finally succumb a few months after the flight, not long after he and his family had decided to make California their permanent home.

So far as Vin Fiz—the drink—is concerned, problems with the bottles’ sealing mechanism resulted in the drink often arriving at the point-of-sale tasting distinctly rancid.5 Perhaps the product could have benefitted from regularly scheduled air freight services, but alas, they were still fourteen years in the future. The Ideal Grape Drink hardly outlasted Rodgers’ flight, going out of production shortly after its conclusion on the Pacific coast.

Of all the fascinating characters in this story, only a few of whom are featured above, it can easily be argued that the Vin Fiz—the aircraft, that is—faired best of all. It was eventually restored and presented to the Carnegie Foundation for posterity. In turn, they donated it to the absolutely perfect long-term care facility for old aircraft, the National Air and Space Museum, where it is still on display to this day.

The star-crossed Vin Fiz drink may have seemingly come and gone in an instant, but its moment on the underside of its namesake flying billboard will live on forever. 🛩️

Is there a particular aircraft livery you've spotted in the wild, or perhaps directly helped to create? Or perhaps one that's a particular favourite of yours and you would like to share with others? In any of these cases, or on any other matter, I'd love to hear from you.7 Until then, thank you so much for reading and also for engaging with BluFly’s posts on Bluesky and LinkedIn.8

Until we meet again next month, fair winds and blue skies.

Terence C. Gannon
Managing Editor

This is what we managed to put together for you for May, with most recent at the top:

Note that the embedded posts above are from the Bluesky 🛩️ Custom Feed9 which is the reference feed for BluFly.