Look for the soaring soul of America this week of high summer among the corn fields and pastures around Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The gentle prairie breezes are being ruffled by the snarls of thousands of tiny airplanes, birthed in basements and garages, built from plans or kits, antiques rescued from rust and decay by men and women who, like Orville and Wilbur Wright, still want to fly free like birds. Now and then at this mecca of private aviation, the towering cumulus clouds are sundered by warbirds like the gull-winged Corsair, the kind the Jolly Rogers squadron flew in the Pacific, lovingly restored by men with heroic memories and oversize checkbooks (half a million dollars and up).
Before this week is out, more than 12,000 airplanes and 1 million onlooking enthusiasts will flock to the Experimental Aircraft Association convention, centered in Oshkosh but splayed out over the lush Wisconsin landscape from Fond du Lac to Appleton and Green Bay. This remarkable event was begun in a basement 42 years ago by flyer Paul Poberezny, the son of a Ukrainian immigrant. Involving 400 types of aircraft, it is judged by some to be the world's biggest convention and aviation's most diversified air show, dwarfing state fairs and even Woodstock '94, drawing people from all 50 states and 80 countries, many of whom are looking for customers for the airplanes they build.
However, this joyous encampment is, in its way, a protest against government regulation. With its exuberance, it defies the devastation wrought by liability lawyers on aviation. The troubles are grave. In 1978 manufacturers produced 17,800 small airplanes. Today they turn out fewer than 1,000, a 95% drop in business, much of it due to the fears of lawsuits. Under existing laws, manufacturers can be sued any time a plane breaks down or is involved in an accident -- even if the sturdy little flyer has flown reliably for a quarter-century. Piper Aircraft Corp. of Vero Beach, Florida, made the famous Cub -- the little yellow plane that thrilled county-fair audiences with rides and stunts like the Flying Farmer, a "runaway" plane with Grandma on board and cornstalks streaming from its landing gear. Now the company is in bankruptcy. The $25 million annual budget that Cessna used to spend to promote flying has been used up in lawyers' fees.