![]() She smiles as people look up and begin to gather round for instructions. ![]() She sees the first volunteers slamming their car doors out on Arthur Fecteau Boulevard, the fidgeting photographers, the ropes, stanchions, coolers and signs that need to find their places in the next two hours. The Hangar Queen takes in the morning beneath the bill of her ball cap. When her name is spoken, it is always with a degree of reverence and the mere mention of it brings into the conversation a new level of civility and calm. But second only to Potter is mentioned the name of Carolyn Leslie, Vintage Wings of Canada’s Manager of Hangar Operations, or as I am wont to call her - The Manager of Everything. When talking to Canada’s flying veterans, working with newspaper and magazine reporters or chatting with visiting aviators and the just plane-curious, the name of founder Michael Potter is mentioned foremost for his breathtaking accomplishment that is Vintage Wings of Canada. That underlying affability combined with the highest levels of job performance is no better personified by anyone than Carolyn Leslie, the Hangar Queen. Though our three main goals are to Educate, Commemorate and Inspire, there is a subtext of doing so with a strong work ethic, humanity, good humour and wide open arms for veterans, youth and Canada at large. It was the singular vision of one man and the dedicated work of many people. As any visitor, flying or driving, will tell you, the Vintage Wings of Canada open house events are wonderful opportunities to see, hear, smell and feel the great aircraft of the golden age of Canadian aviation, to luxuriate in the nostalgic charm of sputtering engines, colourful wings and smell of oil.īut magic did not make this happen. Now, as if by magic there exists a flying Camelot, a place, a group of people, a time of year, a delightful oasis of sunny day flying where once there was nothing. Years would pass between the passage of winged visitors from another era. Only ten years ago, Ottawa-Gatineau was a bone-dry desert of warbird and vintage aircraft activity. She stops at the edge of the shadow and surveys her realm. The Hangar Queen carries a roster clipboard, a bandolier of name tags, an armful of orange polo shirts, a cell phone and a wide, wide smile. Striding across the floor with obvious purpose comes the Hangar Queen, winding in and around aircraft, ducking a wing or a cannon, bound for the now warming ramp. ![]() First through the open doors, a swallow flashes in and out of the shadow line. The doors open wide to welcome the day in and it obliges, spilling into every corner. A shaft of light breaks with the doors and cuts across the polished hangar floor, revealing the glossy black nose of a Spitfire, the cherry red tail of a Staggerwing and a tri-coloured roundel on a field of yellow. The door klaxon sounds its Excedrin blare as someone begins to run the tall, massive metal panels to either side. The duty mechanics are hard-starting their day with Double-Doubles from Tim Hortons, aero-paparazzi snoop and loiter and long-awake Red-winged Blackbirds trill from the bulrushes behind the hangar. The early summer sun is now well up into the West Quebec sky, but the shadows are long, the light is sharp and yellow hued and the moisture is still on the ground and not in the air. It’s morning on the day of Vintage Wings of Canada’s open house.
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