Still Stars, Sight Unseen

Leaning against a chain-link fence at the Point Mugu Air Show, Tom Conforti gazed skyward as an F-4 Phantom roared overhead, no higher than a high-rise office building.

“It’s great to be around so much firepower,” said Conforti of Camarillo, feeling the bone-rattling vibration and smelling the jet fuel. “You can feel the bass and it goes right through you.”

While gray, misty weather grounded the Air Force Thunderbirds precision-flying team, tens of thousands of spectators sipped coffee, sat in the cockpit of a Navy transport plane and gaped at a Stealth fighter surrounded by stern military guards wearing black berets.

There was no shortage of roaring jets to satisfy the bundled-up crowd.

As many in the audience sat on lawn chairs behind a roped barrier, a steady procession of F-4 Phantoms, F-18 Hornets and F-14 Tomcats buzzed overhead and quickly disappeared in a gray curtain of exhaust and fog.

“We’re trying to keep the people entertained,” Senior Chief Pat Friel shouted to

a visitor over a jarring jet

blast.

A Point Mugu air traffic controller who helped organize the show, Friel said the event is a way to share military might with people who otherwise wouldn’t get the chance to see it.

“We want to show off our military. There is so much mystique and people are really curious about how powerful and capable we are.”

It could have been a county fair except for the ear-shattering explosions of test-bombing demonstrations and the heavily armed military police patrolling the grounds.

Hot dog and lemonade stands were propped up next to a Marine Corps booth featuring Leathernecks painting the faces of children in camouflage colors.

Twelve-year-old William Moyer shut his eyes tightly as a Marine gingerly dabbed brown, green and gray paint on his cheeks, nose and chin. The Camarillo boy vowed to maintain the guerrilla look until he returned home in the evening.

Retired Navy Capt. Bill Lebert, 75, of Camarillo brought his four grandchildren to educate them about aviation and his Navy flying days.

“I want to talk to them about the planes, but right now I think they’re more interested in getting something to drink,” he said.

Vendors of food and beverages reported a mixed day.

As he rode around on an electric cart dumping off kegs of beer at 15 stands, Scott Schilling said he’d seen better days, at least for beer sales. Out of 200 kegs he had hauled to the show, 60 remained untapped by midday Sunday.

“Last year, this place was surrounded. You couldn’t get through on a cart,” Schilling said as he drove through a nearly empty vendor section. “It’s always a good day to drink beer, and if the sun was out, they would be here.”

The M*A*S*H-style medical tents set up by the base’s medical unit were nearly empty Sunday.

Lt. Cmdr David Beverly and his staff were ready for everything from sunburn to strokes, not to mention injuries from a downed plane.

“We sat down and planned for all the possibilities,” he said. “But it’s probably just as well.”

Clad in leather flight jacket and fiery red jumpsuit, Maj. Glen Lawson was trying his best to be upbeat.

But each time he heard an announcement of a water-tanker precision drop, Lawson winced because he knew that many in the crowd wouldn’t get to see him and the other Thunderbirds perform.

“We’re just dying to get airborne,” he said, a line of F-16C Fighting Falcons parked on the tarmac behind him. “Everybody is fired up to do it, but then you look at the weather and it brings you down.”