One of those marvelous airports named after the fellow who gave ‘em the land. Thanks, Mr. Hector!
We lived close to Hector Field. There weren’t too many jet planes, so it wasn’t noisy – except for the occasional gut-thumping sonic boom courtesy of the Happy Hooligans. The terminal was built in ’53, and I remember it as a cool place – International style, a small piece of jet-era cool transported up to the Plains.
|
