Letters from La Vernia
by Tommy Terry
JS: My friend, Tommy Terry, of La Vernia, Texas, is a fellow Ercouper and a City Councilman..in that order, I think. It's clear that he'd rather be flying his pampered little two-seater than just about anything else, and that is certainly understandable. It is also clear that he has a good eye for a story among the vast and diverse aviation population of the Lone Star State. Here's the first of what we hope will be many "Letters from La Vernia."
The Wooden Aeroplane Works
 Dale Pursel (L), Julius Junge and their Curtis Racer.
Tommy Terry: Ripping, planing, bending and laminating wood piece after piece might not be everyone's idea of retirement but for two young lads with a fascination for aeroplanes, it is the direction fate and choice have taken them. Mr. Julius Junge, 74 (pronounced Yung - gee..soft g), and Mr. Dale Pursel, who will admit to being 80 "and a little", have sure been busy since retirement. Down at his "Wooden Aeroplane Works"  at Midlake Airfield in Elmendorf, TX, Julius has built or restored at least half a dozen aeroplanes (he prefers the oldtime spelling) and Dale has been with him for three of them. Sometimes, getting a perfectly straight story out of them is a chore, but it's always worth a try.
Julius has never been quite clear about when his fascination for aeroplanes began, but it had to have been early in life.
Dale, who grew up in Nebraska, began his love affair at a young age, too. He tells of helping an old barnstormer patch the wings of a Jenny for rides.
As a builder, Julius uses a lot of wood and what would be called "non-standard hardware", but for construction of functional, full size replicas of antique aircraft, those are the perfect materials. The "Works'" latest product is a 1912 Curtis Racer, commissioned by the HMS Historical Transportation Foundation of Broadhead, Wisconsin. It's the third piece the Wooden Aeroplane Works has produced for the foundation, and another is on the drawing board.
Construction began in the Fall of 2003. Because there were no plans available, photographs were collected. Julius made slides of the photos and used an overhead projector to enlarge each picture until an object of known size was full scale. From there, he measured and made plans.
About six months into the project, after almost all of the ribs and wing panels had been built, another photograph was discovered. This photograph had been taken from a different angle and some details were visible that had not been in previous photographs. Although Julius tried to show and explain what the difference was; I could not see it. Nonetheless, the sum of six months work was fed to the wood heater in his hangar.
Turnbuckles for the wires were a problem; after searching for months, none like the ones used in 1912 could be found, so plans were drawn and sent to a machine shop where the pieces were laser cut.
The next problem facing the lads was an engine. Again, after much searching, nothing that looked like the original engine could be found. Scanning through modern engines, the closest thing available was a GM industrial engine, commonly used on forklifts. The engine was ordered and when it arrived, modifications began. First to go was the fly wheel, then a hub was machined out of solid aluminum to mount the propeller. The search for a carburetor seemed to go on forever. Eventually, Julius found a British motorcycle carburetor on E-Bay. Somewhere along the way, a fuel tank was fashioned out of copper right there in the hangar. Amazement abounds. Walk in one day and there they are, just tinkering with some piece of material. Come back in a day or two and the tinkering has become an amazing piece of work.
Watching the propeller being carved out of wood that was ripped, planed, and laminated on the spot was among the most fascinating sights I have ever beheld. Day by day, this long block of laminated wood began looking more and more like a propeller. One day I made the mistake of asking, "How do you do that?" The answer: (I should have expected this) "You just carve away everything that isn't a prop." Then came the explanation of length, pitch, speed, horsepower. Not only was I amazed by the pure artistry, but thoroughly impressed by the science.
After most of the airframe was finished, the engine was mounted and the propeller attached. Remember the fly wheel that was done away with? No flywheel, no starter; this thing had to be hand propped and that new engine was tight. Once again, attention to detail paid off; with the attention the Lads paid to timing and fuel supply, it started with three pulls. But, always the perfectionist, Julius was not pleased with what he saw or heard. After many adjustments to the carburetor and ignition, he concluded that the prop was pitched incorrectly. Just a couple of weeks later, with a new prop installed, the engine was running not only perfectly but to Julius' satisfaction.
The last parts of the airframe to be installed were the tail booms. These pieces are bamboo, so Julius and Dale went looking for fishing poles. That's right, fishing poles! What they brought back were nice straight pieces of bamboo about fifteen feet long and about one inch in diameter, cut, dried, and varnished.  After it was all done, they actually almost looked like airplane parts.
About March of 2005, everything was pretty much together, for a while. All of the metal pieces were taken off to be painted; some were painted with a very hard, black enamel-like substance created by Julius and some were sent to be nickel plated. The original color of the fabric could not be determined even though the name was available. Once again, painstaking research paid off. Samples of two similar colors were found and something between them was created. In the end, with the varnish and the Goodyear brown (?), it was easy to see why these planes were called "Golden Flyers."
By mid-summer it was all back together and minor touch ups were being made. By the end of August, it was ready to be shipped to its new home. The Saturday before Labor Day was "loading day."
The work of art that had taken over a year to build came apart in two days of very careful removing and labeling. The parts were all wrapped, padded and secured into the back of a large "U-Haul" type truck. The fuselage center section was squeezed into the truck and secured. Finally, the engine and the personal luggage were carefully tied down in the back.
The Curtis is now completely re-assembled and nestled comfortably amid other wonderful birds of its era in Wisconsin.
 Tommy's sweet Ercoupe, posed with the Curtis. When you think about it, with their coupled controls, big ailerons, single engines and no rudder pedals, those two planes could be direct ancestors.
Editor's Note: All photos in this article..with one exception..were taken by Scott Swindle. Tommy Terry took the picture of the Wooden Aeroplane Works sign. The editor thanks them both.
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