Before the advent of the modern Allen C. Thompson Field we know today, Jackson’s Hawkins Field was the main airport facility and handled major passenger traffic. Close to the air traffic control room, the Weather Bureau maintained its offices, and it was these rooms that I remember as an inquisitive child in the late nineteen forties and early fifties. Several years earlier, my sister had been offered the opportunity to enter the Civil Service program that led to a career with the Weather Bureau, due in part to the war time manpower shortage. She returned from training in Atlanta to become one of the first women in the field of meteorology in the Jackson office and the state of Mississippi. I would often travel to Jackson to visit her, and was able to accompany her to her work. Her hours varied, but it was during the night shifts that I was fascinated with the chores of her job. Predicting the weather in those days ---before the computer revolution --- was quite different from today. I vividly remember going up with her into the nearby tower to send up weather balloons that carried small boxes to relay information back to the Weather Bureau office. As the balloon disappeared into the black infinity of the night, I was amazed to observe the recording of information, giving us data on such things as temperature and atmospheric pressure. We recorded the numerical data as the balloon gained altitude and went further and further away, sometimes blown by invisible winds. I was totally intrigued and engrossed by the marvel of this operation.
However, inside the building there was one aspect of my visit that I looked forward to even more. My sister would alert me when a plane was due to come in or take off from the runway, and we would carefully raise a window that led out onto the roof of the building. From that vantage point, I had a ringside seat and excellent view of the plane as it started its motors, taxied around the runways, and took off, disappearing into the night. There was a great rush of air from the propellers and a loud noise that was deafening. It was just as exciting an event when I watched with breathless expectation, and as if by magic, a plane would appear out of the sky on schedule (usually!) and deposit passengers down below. Delta Airlines and Chicago Southern both had stops in Jackson. Sometimes there was an added thrill when a celebrity—a V. I. P. or a movie star—would get off the plane.
A weather report was prepared for the six o’clock news and sent directly to the radio station by a hookup in the office. A radio announcer would give the weather along with the morning news. Upon returning home and listening from my radio to my sister giving the report, I remember imagining what must have gone into the preparation of the report.
These days I often travel by jet and land in Jackson to visit relatives in Mississippi, and there isn’t a time that I am not reminded of my visits long ago. As I relive those times, the feelings of mystery and intrigue come back to me.
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