Imperial Valley Press

HOLLYWOOD

Paul Mantz, the fellow with wings, is back in the sky over Hollywood. As a lieutenant colonel in the Air Forces for two years, he found the war pretty dull compared to the chores he does for movie-makers.

Less than a week after becoming a civilian he climbed into a broken-down, 1910 pusher-type plane, took it aloft and landed, for a film scene, on the 15th fairway of Hollywood's swank Rolling Hills Country Club.

There was a broad grin on his face as he stepped out of the plane 'Now I'm having fun again,' he said.

Paul Mantz is an airman extraordinary. Film stunts are his specialty. He once did 46 consecutive outside loops. He's had 10,000 hours in the air, never cracked up a plane.

He suffered a broken leg once in an automobile accident 'I was flying too low,' he explained.

In his spare time he operates a charter flying service for movie people or anyone else who has the money to rent an airplane. He once flew a coyote from the High Sierras to a sound stage in Hollywood for a closeup.

Which gives you an idea of why Paul Mantz found the war rather dull, as organizer and boss of the First Motion Picture Unit, assigned to photograph sky battles and turn out training films.

A World War I flyer who came to Hollywood in 1927 to become filmtown's first stunt pilot, Mantz owns the biggest collection of World War I planes in the world. He rents them to movie makers with himself as pilot.

Recently he was flying an old-fashioned two-winged job put together with wire and toothpicks, for a scene in the Rickenbacker movie.

He took off from a small country airport near Santa Rosa, Calif., and landed at an army field nearby.

The boys at the field knowing nothing about the film scenes, stared incredulously as Mantz landed the jalopy and taxied down the field. Mantz stepped out of the plane, wearing 1910 vintage mess, sweaters, goggles and helmet.

'Hello, boys,' dead-panned Mantz 'My dad and I built this plane up in the mountains 40 years ago. I just heard there's a war going on so I flew down to see if we could put a machine gun on this egg-beater and go after some Japs.'

In a couple of minutes, Paul said he thought those young army fellows believed him.

Wallace Beery, who flies his own plane, is a great pal of Mantz. Beery is a good flyer, Paul said, but he hates bad weather and won't fly even if there is a light fog. One morning Mantz met Beery at the Burbank airport. The star said he was leaving for Salt Lake City and said goodbye. Four hours later Mantz found Beery still at the airport, gazing dejectedly out a window at a light haze.

'I thought you were going to Salt Lake,' said Paul.

'I am,' said Beery, 'when I can see it from here.'