Steve Hilligoss 1946-2007

Obituary

From AMHF President, Penny Litz

Happy Trails, by Nancy Leslie

Obituary
June 22, 2007 - L. Steven Hilligoss passed away Wednesday, June 20 after a courageous one year battle with brain cancer. Born on September 20, 1946 in Mattoon, IL, to the late Paul and Maxine Hilligoss. He was also preceded in death by his brothers, Gerald and Russell, and his sister, Joyce.

At age 10, Steve and his six brothers and sisters moved to the Brown Co. area. He then graduated from Avon High School in 1964. He was a very proud U.S. Marine veteran from 1964 to 1968, having served in Viet Nam during 1966-1967 as a remote radio relay communications chief attached to the Third Marine Aircraft Wing.
Upon release from active duty, Steve worked for six years with United Parcel Service and later with Control Temperature Transit Company as a logistics and transportation expediter. In 1990 Steve joined General Devices Corporation as an industrial products sales engineer, where he enjoyed the respect and friendship of many friends and colleagues.

Steve was extremely well known throughout the U.S. air show industry, having served as President and lifetime director of the American Military Heritage Foundation. He was prominently considered as "Mister Air Show" throughout the Midwest, where his aviation friends, performers, and organizers numbered in the hundreds.

In 1989, Steve was instrumental in obtaining an original U.S. Navy PV-2 WWII medium bomber, of which he helped oversee the restoration and maintenance of this flying museum.
He was a co-founder and director of the Riley Hospital - Indianapolis Air Show, which he helped start in 1997. In addition to the tremendous success of the Indianapolis Air Show, Steve was a valuable "behind the scenes" advisor to area air show events in Evansville, IN, Vincennes, IN, Louisville, KY, and Jeffersonville, IN. He also participated in dozens of major air shows throughout the United States as the PV-2 flight engineer. He held the respect and friendship of air show participants and organizers throughout the United States.

Steve found time and participated in many local civic and charitable organizations including the Indianapolis Service Club, American Legion Greenfield Post (40 & 8), Confederate Air Force, Experimental Aircraft Association (Warbirds Division), and the International Council of Air Shows. Steve was an avid Indiana University basketball fan.

In addition to a multitude of aviation friends and business associates, Steve is survived by his wife, Rebecca Jane Vahle Hilligoss; daughter, Jenny; six grandchildren, Anthony, Jordan, Maria, Alejandra, Anjelica, and Humberto; sister, Becky Heflin; brothers, Scott and Frank Hilligoss. He was preceded in death by his daughter, Rhonda Kay Hilligoss, in 1989.

Charitable donations in lieu of flowers can be made to the American Military Heritage Foundation, P.O. Box 29061, Indianapolis, IN 46229.

From AMHF President Penny Litz:
Steve was the first person to spill anything on my brand new carpet. I just had my whole house re-carpeted from top to bottom and offered to hold an AMHF meeting and sure enough Steve spilled a whole cup of coffee in the living room.
I couldn't get mad at him though, he had such a boyish mischievous way that made forgiveness of a terrible faux pas so easy plus I noticed that he was able conjure up a "war story" to divert attention.

Most conversations I ever had with him were about kids and not the Harpoon. I had heard many stories about the rapscallion Hilligoss kids and surreptitiously tried to find out if my kids were better or worse before I subjected everyone in the AMHF to them. They seemed like ordinary rambunctious kids to me after my investigation which made me less worried about bringing mine around.

We compared notes about the first cup of coffee in the morning before the kids get up - the only advise I had for him was that he wasn't getting up early enough to get a good jump start on everyone. With everything he was involved in, it's a surprise that he ever got to bed the night before. He wasn't just involved as a parent in cub scouts - he was on committees, launching rockets, carpooling to soccer, football, and swimming helping with homework. I couldn't keep up with him and I'm a bit younger.

I stopped by his house one cold February afternoon unannounced. I forgot that it was one of those President's days that the kids were out of school. He was looking forward to getting his driver's license back in a few days and seemed like he was in better health. His three kids were home along with several neighbor kids and I was "packing" a 4 year old myself. He sure didn't seem to mind the noise and my little boy joined in the chaos. I fantasized that I could leave mine there and he wouldn't notice until the next morning. It was like visiting an old friend, sitting at the kitchen table with kids raiding the refrigerator and asking if "so and so" could spend the night and interrupting every other sentence of the conversation.

I surely thought he would beat this disease and to a certain extent I guess he has. David Jackson said something to me that gave me hope along time ago. He said, "The Harpoon is still around only because of Hilligoss's sheer will." It must have made an impression on me because I wrote it down and reread it many times. I surely thought it would apply to his life. Now, I wish I had taken the time and stopped by more often. So make a note to yourself, it you're sick, unless you tell me different, expect to see me at your door.

We were as prepared as we thought we could be to say goodbye to our friend, our inspiration, our fearless leader. So much had changed in the past year, I didn’t even recognize Jordan as he held the door open for us. Taller, much more grown up, longer darker hair and glasses proved a fitting disguise that kept me from recognition, but the looks aren’t what threw me so much as how much he had grown up. He didn’t look like the little skinny blonde kid with freckles I saw the last time he tagged along with Grandpa to the airport. He looked like a young man. One I didn’t know.

Inside, I met Tom Simpson from American Tent, he supplies all the tents for the Indianapolis Air Show, in his finest 3 piece
pin striped suit, he was right at home next to Denny Smith from the Logistics Committee in his most appropriate Indianapolis Air Show shirt. A fitting tribute. In the next room, Earl Anderson, Golf Chairman chatted with Dave Jackson, Warbird Chairman as they flipped thru countless photo albums laid out on tables in a large square. Outside the tables were easels with framed photo collages, signed images and other memories, some I recognized from the Ramp Building as mementos presented to Steve in recognition of his involvement in so many air shows. A selection family photos, a glimpse into the life we didn’t know of our friend Steve were also on display. His presence was so evident in the room, I just couldn’t imagine that he was gone. I looked at photos of his military career, he and his siblings, even a picture of him with a dog on his lap. Never would have imagined him with a dog on his lap. But that was the side of him we didn’t know. We knew the air show guy, the devoted Grandpa, the king of the Harpoon. The dedicated aviation expert. We knew the coffee drinking, joke telling, wrench turning, deal making man who brought us all together to enjoy his love of of vintage air
craft, particularly, Hot Stuff our own personal Lockheed PV-2 Harpoon.

The group was very interesting. I noticed many familiar faces as we headed into the sanctuary for the service. The girls and I sat behind Mikey who introduced us to her sister. In front of Mikey was Ginger Davidson. I stopped to talk to Terry Stoten, Melva and Denny Smith all in their very appropriate Air Show shirts in tribute. Down front I stopped for a warm heart-felt hug from Scotty. We chatted for a bit and as Janet chatted with Becky, I looked at the open casket. This wasn’t my friend, Steve. He always had an expression on his face, either a grin or a scowl, he never was seen with a blank look on his face. This was not my friend. This was his body, a body he no longer needed. He was free of pain and commitments, he was free to soar above the earth and lend his vast wisdom to the foundation members, the air show committee and most of all, his beloved family through his, now eternal, spirit guidance. This was not my friend, but a replica of the person whom we all loved in our own ways. After chatting with Becky and remarking on how the kids looked so very grown up, I returned to my seat and waited for the service to begin.
More familiar faces came thru the door. Bruce Neff came in and served as the escort for Janet, Meg and me. Mark and Doug were both traveling for work, so we were without. He was a fitting companion for all three of us. Mary and Erica Fall came in and found their seats. Linda York popped in on the other side and I didn’t get a chance to chat with her until we got to the cemetery.

As the rooms filled up (the sanctuary and the overflow room) it appeared there was standing room only by the time the service began. Appropriately to Steve’s great taste in Bluegrass Music, the service opened with a recorded version of “Rock Candy Mountain”. The preacher then spoke, though I can’t really remember much of what he said. He read the obituary written by Col. Bill Hammerstadt... I listened intently, but couldn’t comprehend all that he was saying. My friend couldn’t possibly be gone, I can still hear him talking to the kids, or see him getting coffee late in the day on a cold Saturday in the ramp building. I can see him thinking, pondering over a problem and coming up with a solution that had all the guys in the building scratching their heads. I can hear him explaining to me what a magneto was and how it was possible that it caused the problem in the engine several years ago. I remember the look of satisfaction on his face when he came back a little while later and saw me with a manual reading about magnetos and giving me further instruction on its function and location in the plane. He was a wealth of information and that information isn’t dead. It is in each of us. So my friend, couldn’t be dead, all that information was still floating around and so was he. In every one of us in the room. Just like the preacher was saying (gosh! I was listening) Steve’s memory was alive in each and every one of us in a different way. Wow, the service is drawing to a close and I still don’t feel like he is gone. He is still here with us. Time for another tape...

“I’ll fly away”. Yes, that’s when I started crying. When the tape was over they invited the congregation to pass by the casket. The piano player began with the Marine Corp hymn. “From the Halls of Montezuma...” I could hear the words in my head. It reminded me of the day Steve came into the ramp building when I was cooking lunch on a cold Saturday for the hearty crew working in the maintenance hanger at Indy Aero. I had my iPod on and was blissfully unaware that he had stepped in the door for coffee and he caught me singing at the top of my lungs as if I were the next America Idol. I turned with a bit of a scream when he startled me with his presence. That usual smirky grin was a little wider than normal. I was, burning hot and my face must have been as red as the tips of the fake rockets on the bottom of Hot Stuff’s wings. He waved his hand at me. “Don’t stop on my account” he said with a chuckle. I had no words, just supreme embarrassment. When he left, I took off my iPod and got back to work on lunch, completely flustered.

As I headed for the casket, the music changed. “Happy Trails” was next in the pianists repertoire. Oh! The Humanity. He must have knew that one would get to me. I took it as my own personal goodbye from my friend. He probably didn’t know before how horseback riding had taken up much of my time I had previously devoted to the foundation... or then again, I guess he did. I silently touched the side of the casket as I walked by. I didn’t want to look again, I didn’t want that blank expression to stick in my head. Instead, again I thought about that extra large grin and chuckle the day he caught me singing in the ramp building. That is the image I hope to remember.

Out in the lobby, Janet and Meg and I hugged each other hard. The tears were flowing freely at this point. We decided to go out to the car and wait for the procession to leave for the cemetery. It had stopped raining now, which we knew it would. The weather would not prevent the most fitting tribute send off for our friend. It was yet to come.

We sat in the car, Janet, Meg and me, discussing the fact that the weather had started to clear up. We also discussed the fact that we wouldn’t be friends if it weren’t for Steve. He was the one who recruited me to work on the air show, in a blind phone call at my office one day six years ago. Working away, my phone rang and the caller identified himself as Steve Hilligoss, Logistics Director with the Indianapolis Air Show. He told me that he had met my husband, Mark who was working on the web site for the show and it was mentioned that I was a graphic designer as well. Their program
committee chairperson had recently resigned and he wanted to know if I would be interested in volunteering my time to coordinate the creation and printing of the official program for the show. We chatted for about 45 minutes and I mentioned to him that we were also members of AMHF, but we didn’t know when they met nor had we been out to see the plane. He told me when the next meeting would be and made me promise to attend and introduce myself to him when I got there. We attended and I introduced myself. At dinner, I met Doug and Janet Cross, who would later become our best friends. Steve introduced me to the group as the new program chairperson for the air show and said that he hoped I could do some design work for the foundation. 6 years later, Mark has served as President of AMHF and sat on the Board of Directors, I designed marketing materials for ICAS and air show promotion of the plane, served as Vice President and Auxiliary Chairperson. I also was the “lunch cook” for more weekends than I can remember during the time when the engine was down and people were working frantically to get the plane back in the air. I was there the day she stopped flying and there the day she was back in the air. The foundation and the plane have given me many hours of joy and satisfaction along with the usual frustration, anger and disappointment that go along with such an endeavor. In the end, the friends I have made since that first meeting, are the greatest gift Steve has given to me, aside from his friendship and respect.

So now, the cars are starting to pull away from the church. In New Palestine, at the drive in, there is a young baseball team in uniform, they line the road with their caps off to salute the funeral procession as we passed. Such respect. It was a very nice sight.

We didn’t have far to drive. As we passed the drive in, we could see Hot Stuff in the air in the distance with a couple other planes. We arrived at the cemetery and on the hill I could see Roger Bishop from Channel 13 on the radio, he was standing with Scott Curtis. As we walked to the grave site, Linda York caught up with me and we hugged and chatted briefly. Duane Harris and his wife were there chatting with Janet. The service was about to begin. Still off in the distance we could see our girl, waiting for her chance to say goodbye.
The American Legion was very impressive, in black with white gloves and rifles, they stood as the body was moved from the hearse to the grave site, under a green tent to the Marine Corps Hymn being played by a bugle, it was a gloomy scene.

A member of the Legion removed the flag from the casket along with Scotty and they folded it. The preacher said a few words, I couldn’t hear what he had to say. Next came the 21 gun salute, expertly carried out by the men from the American Legion. Then the bugle began playing Taps. As he played, the formation of planes came into clear view. Col. Bill Hammerstadt flew his O-2, Martin Fall flew an RV-8 painted like an old AT-6 trainer, and Hot Stuff, PIC-Steve Rider,
SIC-Joe Litz, Crew Chief-Jenny Thompson, and Crewman-Craig Heavener on board.

As they came in, Scotty came close to Janet, Meg and me and hooted to them waving his fist in the air in obvious approval of the send-off. We were all standing there with huge tears in our eyes as Steve Rider pulled back on the stick and in a nearly vertical movement, took the missing man position with our girl to honor her greatest advocate. The planes disappeared from sight momentarily and I could see the crew bringing her back around for another pass. From the ground it looked like a 90° bank. No two pilots fly Hot Stuff the same, but at the same time, nobody can fly her like Cpt Rider. He came over the cemetery and we all had great tears in our eyes as he passed and wagged her wings at the tearful crowd gathered in the
little cemetery on that gloomy day. And then it was over. The service, a tribute, an era.

The day was filled with tears and joy at seeing the plane Steve loved so much able to fly by and give him tribute just as he had honored her for so many years. When times got toughest, Steve was the cheerleader. When all seemed lost, he held faith that the plane would fly again and she would be better than before. She did, and she is. On that same note, we are all better than before. Before we knew Steve our lives were all different. We are all better for having known the man who could keep a million facts about a plane, an air show, a history in his memory and generously share his wisdom with all
those who cared enough to ask.

My friend is not gone. He is still in each and every one of us whose lives he touched. His wisdom, knowledge, sense of humor and memory will travel with us all for all of our days.

Thank you, my friend. Happy trails to you as well.

Restored WWII Plane is His Legacy - IndyStar.com