It’s hard to think about aviation and its rich heritage in 20th century California without thinking of Bill Schoneberger. He wasn’t a pilot, astronaut or engineer, but he was the guy who informed us about the people and the machines of flight with a long and fascinating series of articles, books and lectures.

Bill, who died on the last day of August at age 83, spent more than half a century in aerospace and devoted all those years to inspiring the rest of us to be as fascinated by the field as he was. Hundreds, probably thousands, of us counted ourselves lucky to know him and be his friends.

Members of the Aero Club looked to him for leadership, persuading him to serve four terms as president as well as editing the Club’s Aileron newsletter for years. It wasn’t hard to talk him into that—he loved it. The Aero Club was his pride and joy, and he devoted countless hours to serving on its board of directors and as head of many committees.

He seemed to know everybody in the business, and they were always happy to say they knew Bill. If you wanted to know who was who, and what was going on in the realm of aerospace, Bill was the one you turned to for information.

A Man in the News

We often saw him quoted by news writers who looked to him as an invaluable source of background material. On many a TV documentary about aircraft and aviators, we’d see his familiar face among the guest experts, usually with the title “aviation historian” superimposed below his image.

And he wasn’t merely a source of raw data. A masterful raconteur, he loved a good joke and his telling of them was priceless entertainment. His favorite jokes were often rambling tales that convulsed his listeners by ending with some unexpected and outrageous pun. Some of us made a habit of feeding him notes or e-mails containing the latest zany puns, knowing how much he’d be tickled by them.

Bill Schoneberger’s professional accomplishments are well known: head of public relations and advertising for such corporate giants as G.E. aircraft engines and Northrop, consultant to many companies in his later years, and author or co-author of nine books on aviation lore. His peers honored him with many awards, including the aerospace industry’s prestigious Lyman Award in 1998 for “outstanding achievement in aviation writing.”

His 1980 book, California Wings, is must reading for those who want to know the history of aviation in the state, starting with the 1910 Air Meet at Dominguez Hills. And for those wanting to enjoy some chuckles with their history, his 2002 book, Damn If They Ain’t Flew contains a lifetime’s collection of anecdotes and humorous yarns.

Saving History

He devoted much of his time to preserving memories of the accomplishments of others. In 1981 he was instrumental in persuading the estate of Howard Hughes to turn Hughes’ giant flying boat over to the Aero Club for public display for a decade in a large dome at Long Beach. If that hadn’t worked, the Spruce Goose would have been cut into pieces and scattered among various museums. It did work, and the flying boat is still intact and available to the public today. When the Long Beach site became unavailable, Bill headed a small team of Aero Club people who sought and found a permanent home for the massive wooden aircraft in an Oregon museum.

Bill’s rapport with the Hughes estate—particularly Hughes’ cousin and heir Will Lummis—led to the creation 30 years ago of the Aero Club’s Howard Hughes Memorial Award. For years Bill headed the Club’s committee that arranges for the HHMA to be presented annually to an aerospace leader selected for a lifetime of achievements.

And he was the principal author of the Aero Club’s 2004 book, Aviation Pioneers, revised and updated last February, profiling each of the first 30 recipients of the Hughes Award.

Thanks in no small measure to Bill’s years of efforts and guidance, the Aero Club will continue with its mission to inform and inspire people about aviation and aerospace.

But without him, it may never be quite as much fun.

--Jim Ragsdale