Every takeoff
since that first Bearcat
experience has been a
comparison, another step in the
search for the same
exhilaration. Until this week,
only one airplane has come even
close, the Grumman F3F/G-32A.
And then I
flew Jim Younkin's Mullicoupe
last week. Now there's another
image to rotate through my
mental theatre with those of the
Bearcat and the F3F. The
Mullicoupe definitely left it's
mark.
Any who were
at Oshkosh undoubtedly came away
with stories of the two hulking
red and black airplanes that
were "...sorta Monocoupes and
sorta Howards." A spectator
didn't have to know what the
airplanes were to know they had
just seen magnificent examples
of the airplane builder's art.
If they hung around long enough
to pick up the specifics, they'd
realize those were Bud Dake's
and Jim Younkin's Mullicoupes,
just two more in a long, long
line of nearly unbelievable
flying machines to bear
Younkin's unique touch.
It's probably
redundant to once again explain,
or try to explain, Jim Younkin
who operates Historic Aviation
in Springdale, Arkansas, as he's
regularly mentioned in these
pages. However, it is very
necessary to point out that he
is far more than simply a
builder, or a designer or a
creative thinker, even though in
each of those categories, he may
well stand at, or near, the head
of the class. Younkin's
combination of talents may well
make him unique in our field.
There are a number of others who
can free form aluminium nearly
as well. There are others who
are adept at designing and
engineering. There are numerous
shops out there that build and
restore airplanes as well. There
are very few, however, who, like
Jim, combine it all.

Quite often,
when an individual has the above
kinds of characteristics, he is
likely to be selfish with what
he knows. Just the opposite is
true with Younkin. Walk in his
shop with a question and he's
likely to drop what he's doing,
step over to the trip hammer or
English wheel and show you how
it's done. He's almost zealous
in his urge to get knowledge and
understanding about what he's
doing out to other people. His
much-modified Piper Pacer is a
classic case in point: It's hard
to imagine how many other Pacer
owners have borrowed ideas from
Jim's airplane, most with his
help. It's probably the most
copied airplane of its type
ever, although he often doesn't
receive credit for some of the
mods.
Jim is
blessed with the intellect and
the skills that are required to
take any idea and make it a
reality. For that reason, when
he starts musing about a
particular restoration project
or new design, it's a good idea
to sit up and take notice. Jim
Younkin's day dreams almost
always become reality. That's
exactly how the Mullicoupes came
to be.
Actually,
Younkin blames Bud Dake, he of
the familiar menacing black
Clipwing Monocoupe and central
figure in the on-going Creve
Couere aerodrama, for the
Mullicoupes coming to be.
Younkin had
taken Mr. Mulligan, his 600 hp
recreation of the golden age
racer, to the antique fly-in at
Blakesburg for the first time
("...I didn't really plan on
landing, as it was way too
short, but there the runway was,
so..."). Towering over so many
of the other antiques, it was
the center of attention. The
year was 1982. He and Bud Dake
were sitting in the shade
admiring the airplane's lines
that afternoon when, according
to Younkin, Dake said something
to the effect of, "...you know
what we really need is a 450 hp,
two seat version of Mulligan
just for personal
transportation..." Younkin
agreed.
As Younkin
remembers it, they talked about
it for a couple of days at the
fly-in, deciding such an
airplane should borrow heavily
on the lines of the Monocoupe.
Jim says that's when the name "Mullicoupe"
came into being.
When Younkin
came home he started doodling.
Jim Younkin, however, doesn't
doodle like the rest of us. His
doodles have numbers and
dimensions attached. So, in
another year or two a totally
accurate scale model of the
airplane took shape in Younkin's
shop. He had the concept. He had
the dimensions, so he did the
next natural thing and started
cutting metal.
At that point
he was building a single
airplane for himself, but it
wasn't long before Bud Dake and
Red Lerille, another Monocoupe
fanatic, had jumped on board.
So, when Jim built a component
for his airplane, he'd build one
for theirs as well.
For a number
of years the Mullicoupe was a
"fill-in" project as Younkin's
shop was completely immersed in
a Staggerwing Beech assembly
line. At one time he had four
Staggerwings lined up, each
receiving massive amounts of
restoration, modifications and
aluminium work.
Finally,
several years ago, the
Staggerwings were finished to
the point they were ready to be
delivered to the owners, and the
Mullicoupe project really got
serious.
As quickly as
Younkin would finish a
component, it would be shipped
to Dake and Lerille and the race
was on to see who would fly
first. Dake won.
On the first
flight, they discovered the
airplanes needed much larger
vertical fins. The tiny surface
which was desired to maintain
the Monocoupe look just wasn't
large enough. Younkin produced
larger surfaces for his and
Lerille's airplanes, but Dake,
true to his nature, was
beginning to like an airplane
that had little or no airborne
directional stability so he
hasn't modified his.
The final
airplanes are a little daunting
both in presence and in
specifications. From a distance,
it would be easy to mistake them
for D-145 Monocoupes. As the
distance is closed, however,
they grow in size until it's
realized they are very serious
airplanes. The lines start with
the flawless bumped aluminum
cowls wrapped tightly around a
fuel injected P & W R-985. The
lines flow back with more
Monocoupe than Mulligan in them
until they wasp-waist their way
down to the tiny tails. The
wings are very much Mulligan in
both line and execution.#

The 29'3"
wings look short for the
dense-looking fuselage and in
fact are short: The wing loading
goes from 24 to 27 pounds/square
foot, depending on how much of
the 150 gallon gas tanks are
filled. Even with the 22 gph
fuel burn of the Pratt and
Whitney, that gives a solid (and
impressive) 7 hours of range at
a high altitude cruise speed of
225 mph.
I was more
than just a little apprehensive
as I backed up to the door to
hoist myself up into the cockpit
(the door jam is nearly chest
high). The airplane has a
pugnacious presence about it
that just sitting on the ground
says "fly me if you can." Bobby
Younkin, Jim's son and the well
known airshow pilot of both a
Twin Beech and Samson, scrambled
into the other seat to help make
the introductions.
Once inside
the airplane, the extreme deck
angle, 15°, was clearly evident.
The cockpit slanted downhill
much steeper than any airplane
I'd ever flown. This was going
to be a challenge.
When the
engine cranked, it caught on
only the second or third blade
laying down the wonderfully
classic opening movement of
Symphony de Round Motore.
The airplane
doesn't have a steerable
tailwheel, so most ground
handling is done with brakes. I
had only a short, five foot wide
stripe of the side of the
taxiway visible at an extreme
down angle, so I was at first a
little overly cautious. I found
quickly, however, that the nose
tapered fast enough that by
leaning against the side of the
cockpit, I could actually see a
fair distance ahead and only a
slight S-turn was necessary to
clear the taxiway ahead.
The cockpit
has an open cheery feel to it
because of the sky light but the
feeling is also helped by the
antiquey, vaguely triangular
instrument panel. If the panel
hadn't been scooped out at the
sides and had a round top like
most instrument panels, the
visibility to the quartering
sides would have been abysmal.
As it was, I had a clear view at
an angle of about 40° (a guess)
off the nose.

As I glanced
around the cockpit I again
remembered Younkin's description
of the fuel system. The tank
selector is between the seats,
along with the push-pull
tailwheel lock. What is not
visible is the float and vent
system in the header tank.
R-985's with fuel injection,
rather than the usual carburetor,
take a frighteningly long time
to restart once you've run a
tank dry. Sometimes the silence
lasts as long as 20 seconds.
Younkin's fix for that is a low
fuel warning light in the header
tank that lets you know you've
only got a few gallons left
before the pilot light goes out.
At the same time, the float
activates a servo which opens a
direct vent into the header tank
so, when you switch tanks, it
will fill faster. If, for some
reason, the servo doesn't
activate, there's a tiny spigot
over the co-pilot's head that
manually opens the vent for
faster filling.
As we rolled
out and centred ourselves on the
runway, I could see it was going
to be a real challenge to
actually get the airplane into
three point position on landing.
At that point, I didn't know
exactly how much of a challenge
it would be.
I also didn't
know how exhilarating the
takeoff would be. At our weight,
the power loading was down
around 5.2 pounds per horsepower
which is about on a par with the
lighter aerobatic specials. But
that number doesn't take into
account the effect of having
nearly 1000 cubic inches feeding
that big prop.
I fixated on
the furthest point where the
edge of the runway hit the nose
and started easing the power in.
The airplane responded by
instantly leaping forward. When
I saw the airplane wasn't going
to go darting off one way or the
other, I finished putting the
rest of the power in and hung
on. I was just in the process of
picking up the tail when the
airplane got light on its feet
and I was slow to react to the
message. The result was we
didn't separate cleanly and I
let a slight crosswind push us a
little.
Gheez! I was
thinking. Gimme a break. I
hadn't caught up with the
airplane yet and it was ready to
takeoff long before I was.
I glanced at
the airspeed as we left the
ground and was amazed! We were
rocketing through 110 mph and I
had just barely gotten full
power in.
I brought the
power back to climb settings
immediately and held what I knew
was a fairly shallow climb
angle. This seemed a smart thing
to do around an airport. It was
obvious the Mullicoupe would
sustain any nose angle I wanted,
but I'd be blind as a bat in a
bucket. With everything all
squared up, I again checked the
airspeed. We were indicating 160
mph on a very hot, humid day but
the VSI was showing 1800 fpm!
How's that for a cruise climb,
sports fans?