From L to R: hired pilot Ruy, Ruy de Toledo, a farmer worker, and the owner Ruy. Ruy is a rare name in Brazil, so the coincidence of 3 Ruys in a small plane's cockpit was amazing.
Photo courtesy of Ruy de Toledo

Circa 1958/1959, my father, who was a land developer all his life (he founded several cities in Brazil), was flying a hired Bonanza air taxi over the Amazon forest in Para state, having already made half the several thousand kilometers to Manaus, over that impenetrable expanse of rain forest. Although a long time pilot (like all his brothers, my mother, me and my brother) who used his former planes to commute over all type of terrain in all those pioneer land developments, he suddenly realized that, if the Bonanza's engine even only "coughed", he would be roughly tossed on top of the tall trees, in no time, and he knew that wasn't "good medicine". No Sir!

The rest of the flight was uneventful, but he promised himself that his (or rather his new company's - SOMECO S/A) eventual plane would be a twin, with lots of tankage. But here resided a "catch." SOMECO's funds were good only for, say, a brand new top model Bonanza with all bells and whistles. No twin.

Enter the "Brazilian way" of accommodating things. He came to know that a new company located in Florida was converting older Navions into twin engined Camairs.

Hummm, maybe he could buy a flyable old Navion, send it "dragging its belly" to Florida by a cold blooded pilot, who would wait there for a couple of months, during which he would become current in the new type until the conversion was finished, allowing him to return flying the renewed plane to Brazil. As this officially wasn't a new plane importation there would be no import taxes & hassles, so the whole thing would be affordable. Voila!

Thus, the old, worn & torn PT-ACN Navion was acquired "for bananas" and only the absolutely indispensable "patches & stitches" were performed, allowing the pilot and companions to reach Florida in 10 days, as my father's strict order was "low & slow, near at least of soccer fields and only a couple of hours/day flying, provided the skies are "Air Brigadier" standard".

Well, everything went like clockwork, and in about 3 month the plane started its flight to Brazil sporting everything brand new but wearing ol' PT-ACN's identity plaque and register. Every possible option concerning fuel store was ordered, as well as all available avionics, radios, etc. Wow! twin Continental FUEL INJECTED 260s! The works!

Cruising at about 55% power (breaking in the engines), things were sweet and dandy, till almost exiting Dominican Republic's territory, when, out of the blue came an old and oily P-51D with his pilot signaling to drop landing gear and follow him. As the flight plan was OK from the beginning, there were signal exchanges and our pilot tried to gain time to reach international waters showing documents at the windows as the Mustang's radio seemed to be out of the air.

Trying to stay abreast with the slow paced Camair, the old and rusty Mustang downed flaps and gear and insisted. Our pilot, seeing the proximity of international waters, firewalled the throttles but a burst of tracers from the 6 x .50 Colts, about 50 meters abreast of the plane obliged him to drop the gear and flaps, accompanying the guy to a near and dusty small airfield.

Being a nice fella, after our touchdown, the Mustang made a very low pass over the Camair at about 350 knots just to shake it a little. And shake it did in the middle of the dust. Then we knew that some rebel activity was concerning Senor Trujillo on that specific day and dictatorial security was reinforced.

We had to stay all day long till the Brazilian consul came to our rescue (after we had to bribe for a phone call). Meanwhile, soldiers pilferage the plane. I had to buy from the soldier my Kodak (a simple square picture thing), but all film rolls were confiscated. Finally they charged us about US$200 for the use of the airport and up we went. Well, at least we had some fun giving them a small payback, by diving and making a pass at 200+ knots at "chicken level" over their heads, covering them with some dust, and running to the open sea (I don't know if we would do this today).

Following its arrival in Brazil, PT-ACN was shown to the members of the Toledo family. Here a cousin poses with the Camair, while Ruy, the owner's son sits on the canopy rail.
Photo courtesy of Ruy de Toledo

Four shots of PT-ACN after its arrival in Sao Paulo, with Roberto de Toledo in the cockpit of the last image.
Photo courtesy of Ruy de Toledo

Alpha Charlie wasn't what my father expected; the engines were always very difficult to start and the original batteries underpowered. He had to order specially made ones. The central CG made for a "porpoising" cruising attitude, needing a sensitive hand at the trim wheel. The sink rate was excellent, if your objective was to open a big hole in the pavement. Not to mention the nice gliding qualities of a Sherman tank. Performance with one engine was problematic. It was the first digital airplane: either you're flying or falling. On/off. Flaps? Yes/no. And the cruising speed wasn't all that jazz, especially for the Brazilian habit of flying most planes at only 65% on that time.

Comparing the Camair with the then new Cessna 310 (the one with the inclined rudder), the Camair was out classed, out performed and outdated. But, sure, it was built like a tank, just like the Navion and the acceleration was dazzling and had nice climb. It turned heads any place we went. Just like a muscle car.

After some time my father tried to exchange it for another plane, but then decided to leave the company and sold his part to his partner. Unfortunately, some years latter, the plane crashed at Bauru, in Sao Paulo state, due to fuel starvation. It was totaled but thanks to its bullet proof construction, nobody was hurt and exited the plane walking.

That's it. I hope this may contribute to your excellent research and web site.

Congratulations and keep up the nice job.

Sincerely,

Ruy de Toledo Piza Filho
Sao Paulo-SP, Brazil