Field of Miracles: Carroll Cornfield Airplane Landing

Photo: Emily J. Davis

Harold "Giff" Gifford

Imagine flying an airplane in a rough Midwest snow storm with no heat, no defroster, no lights, no radio, no fuel gauge and no navigation system.

Harold “Giff” Gifford, a Woodbury resident with a stellar flying career, was co-pilot on a famous 5 hour, 40 minute flight that experienced those daunting challenges. “Though it all occurred over 52 years ago, the events are etched in my memory vividly,” says Gifford, 88.

On a Sunday evening—January 17, 1960—a 1935 DC-3 carrying the Minneapolis Lakers basketball team left St. Louis’ Lambert Field en route to Minneapolis. “Shortly after takeoff, both generators failed while we were in the clouds, and we soon realized that we were in a lot of trouble,” says Gifford. “Weather briefings led me to believe that by getting to Des Moines, we’d find good weather ahead.”

Following the North Star, the pilots kept climbing to get above the ice laden clouds. Above 15,000 feet altitude, they had to reverse course out of the cloud tops, then turn west to go around the storm. This plan also failed. “The only choice remaining involved a bold and daring plan to enter the clouds and descend below the icing level with our limited altimeter and rate of climb/descent indicator instruments,” says Gifford. “If we were lucky, we’d find better weather before fuel starvation.”

The Passengers

Nine Lakers players, who had lost to the St. Louis Hawks earlier that day, were aboard the harrowing flight: Elgin Baylor, Boo Ellis, Larry Foust, Dick Garmaker, Tommy Hawkins, Rod Hundley, Jim Krebs, Bob Leonard and Frank Selvy. Also aboard were Coach Jim Pollard and his 11-year-old son as well as nine men, women and children associated with team ownership and management. All were soon huddled together in the dark, cold cabin as ice began to form on the windows and floor of the plane.

“Amazingly, no one seemed to panic,” says Garmaker, a 1955 All-American for the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers who was an NBA All-Star with the Lakers, and also played for the New York Knicks. “Somehow we all felt that we were going to make it.”

A Saving Light

Gifford and captain Vern Ullman (now deceased) were at the controls of the DC-3, making decisions as time was running out. Luckily, there was someone else in the cockpit: 21-year-old Jim Holznagel, who has just started a job flying for Gopher Aviation. “I was in the jump seat between the captain and the co-pilot to observe as I had not flown a DC-3 before,” he says.

Holznagel served a critical role as the pilots steered through the stormy night in total darkness, shining flashlights and pen lights on the instrument panel hour after hour as the fuel state became crucial. They decided to risk a descent to (hopefully) find a suitable landing spot. “The pilots took turns putting their heads out their side cockpit windows looking for the ground,” says Holznagel.

“Jim held the light on the altimeter and rate of descent, calling out numbers,” says Gifford. Around 1 a.m., over five hours after departure and nearing 500 feet altitude, Gifford eventually caught site of farm lights, then a blacktop road leading to a town. As they repeatedly circled the town, lights kept coming on: people knew they were in trouble. "The lights helped illuminate an unpicked cornfield nearby—a possible landing site,'' says Gifford. “However, there was a difference of opinion so we headed north in search of an airport or better weather, though we had to have been very low on fuel."

Then, while flying, Gifford lost the road, saying “I lost it” to Ullman, who said “I have it!” “Vern had the controls, not the road, and soon I saw we were losing altitude and nearly in a grove of trees,” says Holznagel, who called that out as Gifford grabbed the controls, barely missing the trees, then climbing into the clouds, turning and locating the road, which led back to the town.

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