Once upon a time — a long, long time ago — I sold Cessna ag aircraft (crop dusters) in and around Mississippi (MS).
When you’re talking ag aircraft, an “airport” can be a relatively flat ditch or dirt road, but part of this story involved a very, very, nice modern airport.
We picked up new Cessna ag aircraft at Wichita, KS. We’d fly out with a group of pilots to Wichita, pick up the airplanes and fly back to MS. The pilots worked cheap because they could buy and bring back Coors beer (not sold in the east at that time). A Cessna AgTruck could carry 27 cases of Coors.
On the return trip — we called it a “group grope” because some ag pilots couldn’t really navigate — we often flew southeast down the Arkansas River through a valley that included a huge Razorback — the Arkansas mascot — sign on a mountain.
Then we flew by Petit Jean Airport, located on top of a mountain. In the 1970s Petit Jean was a private airport owned by one of the Rockefellers. Petit Jean — some say — is French for “Little John’ in honor of John Rockefeller. On each trip I looked at that airport and wondered about it. Did it have guards? If so, were they armed? What would happen if I landed there? Being of sound mind and scared heart, I sighed, passed on by, and wondered.
Finally, I gave up and landed at Petit Jean. Yes I did. All the way down final I worried and looked for anti-aircraft weaponry. I touched down, briefly wondered if I dared taxi to the office and introduce myself. Instead, I firewalled the throttle and left, remaining very low in case the Rockefellers were chasing me in jet fighters.
They were not. I had defied the Rockefellers and lived to tell the story.
Today Petit Jean is part of a state park donated to Arkansas by the Rockefeller family. They invite people to fly into Petit Jean and camp.