Skip Pardee
On Sept. 16, a plane crashed at Minden–Tahoe airport killing Don Bartholomew.
I have known Don since the 1980s. When we met, we discovered we had a mutual love: airplanes. I as a former Air Force pilot, he as a professional aircraft mechanic, restorer, and pilot. We have been friends ever since.
For as long as I have known Don, he has lived by himself at his hangar next to his small airstrip off of Pinenut Road.
Don’s skills as an aircraft mechanic, aircraft restorer, welder, machinist, sheet metal worker, and most everything and anything associated with building, restoring, and maintaining airplanes are legendary. Someone once told me that if you looked at work that had been done on an airplane and it looked too good to be true, Don probably did it. Don was known for his work on Swift airplanes. They were built from 1946 to 1951.
Don was a very kind man. During the time that I knew him, I built two airplanes. He was always there willing to help and advise me.
Countless times I went to his hanger seeking help or advice. He always dropped everything he was doing to help. He never asked for any money.
He had a very sharp mind and a great sense of humor. We shared many laughs together.
I am aware that he was very active in local search and rescue.
Don’s family here in the valley were his two golden retrievers. The first one was named Hilo (pronounced Hee-lo). When Hilo died, Don then got Astro. Astro was a big, rambunctious dog. When I would visit Don, Astro would come running up, stand on his back legs and put his paws on my shoulders and lick my face. I am 6 feet, 6 inches tall.
My favorite memory of visiting Don is the day I was there talking with him for probably about a half hour and I realized that I had not seen Astro. I asked about him, and Don said, “Well, I haven’t seen him since this morning.” You could sense the concern in his voice.
When I left Don’s place, I drove my old Cadillac around a while looking for Astro, but did not find him. My Cadillac was not built for those dirt roads. Later that afternoon when my daughter got home from high school, I told her we’re going looking for Astro. She had a four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer. We drove around the Pinenuts quite a while, and suddenly way in the distance there was a flicker of gold. I said to her, “there he is.”
When we got to Astro, he was filthy dirty and having a ball. He came running over, jumped in the back of the Explorer, and we drove him home. It was like bringing a father’s lost son home to him. I told my daughter sometimes you do things that make your whole day. This made my entire year.
Rest in peace, Don. We will miss you.
Skip Pardee is a retired Minden chiropractor and an Air Force veteran.
