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Garber learned to fly one of the legendary Curtiss Jennys just after World War I. But he got so wrapped up in the evolution of the planes and preserving them that he never pursued a flying career. In all likelihood, he is the only man alive who has lived the entire span of aviation history at the very center, friend of most of the pioneers, keeper of flight's most complete diary.
Garber put the bite on Jimmy Doolittle, Amelia Earhart, Wiley Post and Howard Hughes for famous planes they flew to records in what is often called the golden years of aviation, when new planes were designed and built every few weeks. When Garber's friend Charles Lindbergh took off for Paris in 1927, Garber heard the news on a homemade radio in his Chevy. He stopped at roadside and scribbled a cable asking for the plane. "Lindbergh hasn't gotten there yet," stammered the Smithsonian's Assistant Secretary Charles Greely Abbot when asked to send the wire. "He's a great aviator in a very good plane," responded Garber. "I think he will make it." Lindbergh did. So did Garber's plea. The Spirit of St. Louis is one of the most popular exhibits in all of aviation history.