Aviatrix Spotlight: Remembering Jan (Perch) Perlitch
Jan (Perch) Perlitch, My Mother, the Flying Lady,
By Julie Belanger
The 1960s was an exciting decade. It was the time of the Flintstones, the moon landing, Barbie met Ken, Julia Child cooked on TV, and my mother became a pilot. Mom was 36 when she earned her wings and most moms in those days didn't do that. But my mother was an amazing, fun, and independent woman who loved to fly. And what a role model: I also became a pilot, my brother is a pilot, I married a pilot and our daughter is a pilot.
My mother was Janice Perlitch, aka The Flying Lady. She took on the persona and title of The Flying Lady when my father, an entrepreneur and collector of antique aircraft, built and opened the Flying Lady restaurant in Morgan Hill, CA in 1971. Originally the Flying Lady was named for my father's favorite woman pilot….no, not my mother, but for Amelia Earhart, the famous woman aviatrix who was lost in the Pacific on her around-the-world flight in 1939.
By 1981, the Flying Lady grew from a small restaurant that seated 187 people to The Flying Lady II with seating for 2500 on three levels with seven full-sized antique aircraft hanging from the ceiling and 100 scale model aircraft “flying” over the diners on a moving track. The Flying Lady was now the largest restaurant in the world, and it really was named for my mother. A beautiful stained-glass mural at the front doors of the restaurant was designed with my mother's image with wings outstretched.
The restaurant was part of a 200-acre complex that included a transportation museum of antique cars, airplanes, and horse-drawn vehicles and an 18-hole golf course. The golf course concealed a runway that ran down the 11th fairway where, to the surprise of golfers, my mother's airplane and the collection of antique aircraft would take off and land on the grass strip between the tee box and hole.
Flying had been a lifelong dream for my mother. She said that a grammar school teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. “A bird,” she said. “I wanted to fly.” But the opportunity to fly came much, much later in her life. In the 60's it wasn't THAT unusual that a woman would learn to fly. After all, the 99s organization of women pilots was formed in 1929, but it was still a rarity to hear a woman's voice over the radio.
Flying for my mother started when my father bought a Beechcraft Queen Air for business. Dad wasn't a pilot, so he hired a commercial pilot. Often the business trips doubled as family vacations and while Dad and us three kids sat in the back; Mom always sat up front right seat. Mom said that she was learning the basics of flying so that in an emergency she would be able to land the plane and save the family. Fun fact: Our pilot was very good-looking and that may have had something to do with my mother's interest in flying and where we all sat in the plane.
But my mother was learning. She began to make the radio calls, navigating, flying between points, looking for other aircraft, and spotting landmarks. It wasn't long before Mom decided to take real flying lessons. Mom chose a flight school at busy San Jose airport that, in those days was open to commercial aircraft and general aviation. It was also a flight school of ALL women flight instructors. When Mom got her pilot's license in 1966 she bought herself a used Cessna 150 (N3080X). Mom wanted to build her hours so she would often insist on flying Dad to where he wanted to go. But the plane was very small, and my father was not, and it was very slow, so it wasn't long before Dad offered to buy Mom any airplane she wanted. After asking all of their flying friends, Mom decided on a Cessna 182. In 1969, she ordered N 71298 straight from the Cessna factory in a beautiful two-toned silver blue.
My mother loved to fly, and she loved flying that airplane. I love seeing pictures of her flying in a dress and heels. She and I made two cross-country flights from California to New Jersey. On the first flight, we couldn't find New Jersey, but we were close… we landed somewhere in New York state.
That airplane is still in the family today and has been flown by three generations of women pilots: Mom, me, and now our daughter Niki. The paint scheme and color have changed; it is now a two-toned bright blue on white. She is beautiful and flies like new. My husband and I fly it for our aerial photography business.
When I started my flying lessons, my mother gave me words of advice:
Listen up, Ladies…Words of advice from a woman pilot of the1960's
The 1960s was an exciting decade. It was the time of the Flintstones, the moon landing, Barbie met Ken, Julia Child cooked on TV, and my mother became a pilot. Mom was 36 when she earned her wings and most moms in those days didn't do that. But my mother was an amazing, fun, and independent woman who loved to fly. And what a role model: I also became a pilot, my brother is a pilot, I married a pilot and our daughter is a pilot.
My mother was Janice Perlitch, aka The Flying Lady. She took on the persona and title of The Flying Lady when my father, an entrepreneur and collector of antique aircraft, built and opened the Flying Lady restaurant in Morgan Hill, CA in 1971. Originally the Flying Lady was named for my father's favorite woman pilot….no, not my mother, but for Amelia Earhart, the famous woman aviatrix who was lost in the Pacific on her around-the-world flight in 1939.
By 1981, the Flying Lady grew from a small restaurant that seated 187 people to The Flying Lady II with seating for 2500 on three levels with seven full-sized antique aircraft hanging from the ceiling and 100 scale model aircraft “flying” over the diners on a moving track. The Flying Lady was now the largest restaurant in the world, and it really was named for my mother. A beautiful stained-glass mural at the front doors of the restaurant was designed with my mother's image with wings outstretched.
The restaurant was part of a 200-acre complex that included a transportation museum of antique cars, airplanes, and horse-drawn vehicles and an 18-hole golf course. The golf course concealed a runway that ran down the 11th fairway where, to the surprise of golfers, my mother's airplane and the collection of antique aircraft would take off and land on the grass strip between the tee box and hole.
Flying had been a lifelong dream for my mother. She said that a grammar school teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. “A bird,” she said. “I wanted to fly.” But the opportunity to fly came much, much later in her life. In the 60's it wasn't THAT unusual that a woman would learn to fly. After all, the 99s organization of women pilots was formed in 1929, but it was still a rarity to hear a woman's voice over the radio.
Flying for my mother started when my father bought a Beechcraft Queen Air for business. Dad wasn't a pilot, so he hired a commercial pilot. Often the business trips doubled as family vacations and while Dad and us three kids sat in the back; Mom always sat up front right seat. Mom said that she was learning the basics of flying so that in an emergency she would be able to land the plane and save the family. Fun fact: Our pilot was very good-looking and that may have had something to do with my mother's interest in flying and where we all sat in the plane.
But my mother was learning. She began to make the radio calls, navigating, flying between points, looking for other aircraft, and spotting landmarks. It wasn't long before Mom decided to take real flying lessons. Mom chose a flight school at busy San Jose airport that, in those days was open to commercial aircraft and general aviation. It was also a flight school of ALL women flight instructors. When Mom got her pilot's license in 1966 she bought herself a used Cessna 150 (N3080X). Mom wanted to build her hours so she would often insist on flying Dad to where he wanted to go. But the plane was very small, and my father was not, and it was very slow, so it wasn't long before Dad offered to buy Mom any airplane she wanted. After asking all of their flying friends, Mom decided on a Cessna 182. In 1969, she ordered N 71298 straight from the Cessna factory in a beautiful two-toned silver blue.
My mother loved to fly, and she loved flying that airplane. I love seeing pictures of her flying in a dress and heels. She and I made two cross-country flights from California to New Jersey. On the first flight, we couldn't find New Jersey, but we were close… we landed somewhere in New York state.
That airplane is still in the family today and has been flown by three generations of women pilots: Mom, me, and now our daughter Niki. The paint scheme and color have changed; it is now a two-toned bright blue on white. She is beautiful and flies like new. My husband and I fly it for our aerial photography business.
When I started my flying lessons, my mother gave me words of advice:
Listen up, Ladies…Words of advice from a woman pilot of the1960's
- ALWAYS sound as feminine as possible on the radio, you'll stand out over the airwaves.
- Plan for potty breaks. The airplane may have a 4-hour limit, but you will probably only have a 3-hour limit.
- Never fly in poor weather and never be in a hurry to get home. Find a restaurant or nice hotel and enjoy the wait.
- If getting a weather report from someone saying you can “probably” make it, stay where you are. The person giving the advice only has a chair under him and a wrong decision isn't going to ruin HIS day.
- Always practice and stay current and if you are taking someone for a flight, take that flight alone the day before. You'll feel and, very importantly, look so confident.
- Listen to your plane: My mother liked to hear the engine. The whole time I flew with my mother, we never used headsets… let alone noise-canceling headsets.
- Feeling blue? Flying lets you escape gravity for just a moment and anything that is heavy on your heart or mind will lift and you will feel better.
- Don't get your rights or lefts mixed up. Remember, your wedding band is on your left hand. Not married, dear? Mark your hands R and L with a pen, but not too big.
- Never fly in high heels. Always have a pair of flats to change into.
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