Wartime pilot fought for aviation museum
BUZZ BOURDON
Special to The Globe and Mail
August 16, 2010
Bill Paris's love of aviation spanned seven decades in both peace and war and led to the creation of a new aviation museum for Canada in the late 1980s that preserved many of the aircraft he knew and flew.
Working tirelessly behind the scenes for over a decade, Paris, who died at 90 in Ottawa on June 17 of a heart attack, was one of about a dozen dedicated aviation enthusiasts who lobbied the federal government for funds to build a new museum to house Canada's priceless collection of vintage civil and military aircraft.
The collection, which now consists of more than 120 aircraft spanning the early days of flight to the jet age, had been housed since 1964 in three aging wooden hangars at Royal Canadian Air Force Station Rockcliffe and called the National Aeronautical Collection.
But Paris, an experienced pilot and administrator and the president of the Royal Canadian Flying Clubs Association, knew the hangars, which were built in 1940, were firetraps. It was high time the collection acquired a modern home to showcase the aircraft, along with hundreds of artifacts such as instruments, engines and artwork. So, in 1978, he helped found the National Air Museum Society to "promote, foster and encourage the early establishment and continuing maintenance of safe, permanent and adequate quarters for Canada's national aeronautical collection."
He was the right man for the job, said his friend Cliff Kinney. "Bill already had a high profile in his current job, was well-respected for his wartime performance and was most effective in making a case for funding when meetings were arranged with officials and MPs."
It took 10 long years of fighting indifferent politicians and whining bureaucrats, citing budgetary problems, before Paris and his friends convinced the government to build a new museum. Finally, on June 18, 1988, Paris and his wife Joan proudly watched then governor general Jeanne Sauvé open a gleaming National Aviation Museum, now called the Canada Aviation and Space Museum.
Aviation artist Robert Bradford worked closely with Paris during those years. "He spoke quietly, but with authority and clarity. They listened to him. He was the kind of guy who did things but didn't demand credit for it."
A little more than a year later, on Oct. 18, 1989, he did receive official recognition for his devotion to flying and aircraft as a pilot, instructor and administrator when he was made a member of the Order of Canada for "supporting the cause of aviation in Canada."
Known as a modest and unassuming man, Paris almost never talked about his achievements, said his friend, Hubert Van Wettum. "He (only) reluctantly talked about his wartime exploits, I had to pull it out of him."
William Philip Paris was born on July 23, 1919, in Weston, Ont., now part of Toronto. He attended Weston High and Vocation School during the Depression. Electronically and mechanically inclined, he liked cooking and playing the piano.
After graduating in 1938, he worked as a teller for the Bank of Montreal. Jobs were scarce and he was happy to be earning a princely $8 per week, but he hated it. "(It) was poorly paid and boring. I soon became disenchanted with banking life," he wrote in a memoir, Of Sun-Split Clouds and a Hundred Things!
Six months after Canada declared war on Nazi Germany on Sept. 10, 1939, Paris joined the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals. After transferring to the RCAF on Feb. 2, 1941, he was accepted for aircrew training and awarded his pilots' wings in January, 1942.
Flying didn't come easily to him. His instructors, who graded him as only an "average" pilot, made him fly under supervision for 13 hours before letting him fly solo. "I cannot forget the excitement, the sweet, spine-tingling ecstasy that attends one's first take off, the guiding of an aircraft around a full circuit of the airport and above all successfully landing with everything about the aircraft remaining intact," he recorded in his memoir.
After reaching Britain in May, 1942, Paris spent two months honing his skills in aerial navigation, gunnery, ground strafing, aerial reconnaissance, flight formation, instrument flying and forced landings. There were a million things to remember if he wanted to stay alive while fighting the German Luftwaffe.
In September, 1942, he was posted to the Royal Air Force's No. 152 (Hyderabad) Squadron. Two months later, when the Allies invaded French North Africa, No. 152 was sent to Tunisia to support Operation Torch.
On Dec. 14, Paris was flying cover for some Hurricanes when his Spitfire was struck by anti-aircraft fire, or flak. "The flak shell entered the underside of my fuselage, bursting just behind the protective armour plating of my seat. I was at once deafened."
Despite the damage, Paris managed to return to base and made a belly landing at 160 miles-per-hour. "I only have recollections of holding the control column tightly into my stomach and beginning an interminable and extremely rough ride across the ground, with many bangs and thumps, bumps and jolts. Two of the latter resulted in my forehead colliding with the gun sight."
Except for a headache and painful lump on his forehead, Paris was unhurt. He was back in the air 15 minutes later for another mission.
On March 4, 1943, Paris cut off his sergeant's stripes when he was granted the King's commission. Now a newly-minted pilot officer, he got higher pay and the airmen saluted him but the mud, monotonous food and boredom of the Desert War were still there.
A month later, the brass decided that Paris had seen enough fighting and posted him to a maintenance unit as a test pilot. He was back in Canada a year later and eventually released from the RCAF on Apr. 9, 1945, as a flight lieutenant.
After the war, Paris spent seven years working for his father as general manager of Joseph McCausland and Son Ltd., the family contracting business. He also kept flying with the Toronto Flying School. In 1952, he became general manager of the London Flying Club of Canada.
Three years later, in 1955, Paris was appointed general manager of the Royal Canadian Flying Clubs Association. Over the next 29 years, he travelled extensively across Canada instructing and promoting all aspects of flight training. It was an exciting time because Canada's post-war prosperity meant that thousands of people were learning to fly for pleasure.
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