Early Pilot Who Got O.C. Off Ground

It was 1912 and the race between a car and an airplane at the old Silkwood dirt track in Santa Ana drew a huge crowd. Among them was an 11-year-old boy named Eddie who barely noticed the car’s dust. He was awed by his first sight of a plane.

And so begins the newly published autobiography of the late Eddie Martin, who built Orange County’s first airport and was its leading aviation pioneer. It’s titled “Just Call Me ‘Eddie.’ ”

Shortly before Martin’s death in 1990, at age 88, he dictated his life story onto tapes, later transcribed by local historian Judy Liebeck. The laborious task of finally getting it all in book form was led by Tustin journalist Vi Smith. She’s the author of “From Jennies to Jets, the Story of Aviation in Orange County” and was a longtime Martin friend.

“It was Eddie’s dream that his autobiography be published,” Smith said. “His story is a big part of this county’s history.”

Martin was 20 when he paid $5 for his first flying lesson.

“I can’t tell you what a thrill it was when we first got off the ground,” he wrote. “I looked down and knew right away that I was up where nobody could bother me. I knew that flying was going to be my life from then on.”

He traded in his motorcycle as down payment to buy his first plane in 1923. He parked it at his father’s small farm but got tired of having to chase the cows away before takeoff.

So Martin established our first airport on a piece of unused land that belonged to the Irvine Co., too salty for growing produce.

“It turned out to be one of the most ideal spots in the U.S. for an airport,” he remembered. “The land was flat, there were no obstructions around. And the coast breezes blew almost every day, which meant a steady but gentle wind for takeoffs and landings.”

Eddie Martin’s Airport, as it was named, was located where Santa Ana’s South Main Street and the Costa Mesa Freeway now intersect. A trespasser at first, Martin eventually won approval from James Irvine Sr. to lease the property.

Martin traded another motorcycle for his first portable hangar. Every time he got ahead a few dollars, he bought another plane. He even built one himself. His airport became home for others with private planes, and the business steadily grew.

Flying lessons, stunt flying, wing walking, Martin did anything he could to make a living at what he loved. Martin writes about his first wing walk: “I had to lean into the wind. If I’d stood up straight I’d have been blown right off. . . . Someone once asked me why I did it and I told him it was just plain desire.”

Martin supplemented his income during the Depression as a commercial airline pilot. His brother Floyd ran the airport for him and bought it from Eddie in 1937, but kept calling it by Eddie’s name.

In 1940, when the airport property was needed for a new county road, James Irvine Sr. helped negotiate the deal that led to the Martins running the new county airport at a site a mile farther south. That land, of course, is where John Wayne Airport is today.

Cantankerous at times, Eddie Martin seemed most comfortable only with those who shared his flying passion. When his first wife packed up their furniture and left him, he simply moved into a corner of one of his hangars and was right at home.

The book’s richest tales are of the early days. Like the times a pilot would circle after dark until those on the ground could see he was lost. Then they’d line their car lights along the runway so the pilot could locate his destination.

Charles Lindbergh once landed his plane at Eddie Martin’s Airport. Howard Hughes once had to crash-land in a beet field before he got to the Martin runway.

Local libraries, I’m convinced, will eagerly stock copies of this autobiography on their history shelves. Unfortunately, you won’t find it at a bookstore. You can only order it ($35) through the Eddie Martin Estate, 2014 N. Broadway in Santa Ana.

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Jerry Hicks’ column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. Readers may reach Hicks by calling (714) 966-7823 or by fax to (714) 966-7711, or e-mail to jerry.hicks@latimes.com