‘He does not ponder like ordinary people’: The story of Alaska’s first aerial hijacker

Part of a continuing weekly series on Alaska history by local historian David Reamer. Have a question about Anchorage or Alaska history or an idea for a future article? Go to the form at the bottom of this story. He’s presenting a series of free history talks at Bear Tooth Theatrepub this fall. The first, Sept. 14 at 11 a.m., is on Alaskan representation in a century of movies.

Del Lavon Thomas was an unemployed cannery worker when he entered the Beachcombers Bar in Kodiak early in the morning of Dec. 19, 1965. He carried a .22-caliber pistol. The original Beachcomber was a log cabin swept away by tsunamis after the 1964 Good Friday earthquake. Thomas walked into the second, more infamous Beachcomber, a retired steamship nudged against Mission Road by Potato Patch Lake.

The 23-year-old Thomas, perhaps lubricated into aggression, had a pre-existing grievance with Kenneth Cherry, another cannery worker. Cherry had allegedly arranged a “date” with a woman for Thomas in exchange for $45. This woman took his money but refused to provide services unless he paid more. A woman, perhaps the same woman from the “date,” reportedly beat him up in front of Cherry earlier that night. At his trial, Thomas claimed he intended to shoot Cherry in the arm or leg. His aim was a touch high then, as he put a bullet between his eyes, killing him.

Dr. William J. Rader, an Anchorage psychiatrist, examined Thomas before the trial. Rader described Thomas as a man of average intelligence but lacking a mature ability to conceptualize the consequences of his actions. The psychiatrist succinctly testified that Thomas “does not ponder like ordinary people.”

Prosecutors pursued a first-degree murder charge, but the jury returned with a manslaughter verdict. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison. While reading the sentence, Judge Ralph Moody referred to the psychiatric evaluation that described Thomas as a “menace to society.” This is all prologue.

Thomas’ prison journey took him from Lompoc in California to McNeil Island in Washington and back to Alaska. In 1969, he managed a brief breakout in Palmer. Despite that escape, he was paroled on Aug. 23, 1971. Upon release, he promptly found work at a Texaco service station in the Palmer area.

A free man for the first time in years, he feared a return to prison more than he reveled in his liberty. He was slight of build, withdrawn, sensitive, and tense, not exactly made for the hard life of a federal penitentiary. He later said, “I have been to Leavenworth and I don’t want to go back there. There are 2,500 maniacs there.”

Within weeks, he was implicated in a small robbery at work not yet officially reported. On Oct. 17, he chatted with Palmer acting police chief Bob Boyd about how a charge like that would affect his parole. Boyd told the Anchorage Daily Times, “Del was very uptight. Well, he was afraid he might have to go back to jail, even if he hadn’t done it, and I could tell that this was one of his greatest fears. Prison really can get to a man that way, but he was willing to come and talk about it.”

Around 4:30 in the morning on Oct. 18, 1971, he approached the Alaska Airlines counter in the Anchorage International Airport. The agent, Elsie Lewis, grew concerned when he asked for a ticket to either Fairbanks or Seattle. As Lewis told the Daily Times, “At the time he asked, I had a Seattle flight on the ground, but he asked for either Fairbanks or Seattle and in my mind they’re as opposite as left to right, so I assumed he really had no destination in mind.” She alerted airport police, who examined his backpack at the counter before allowing him to leave. The police did not search his person, missing the pistol in his coat. If he had been allowed to buy a ticket, he would have been caught by the airline’s metal detector before boarding an airplane.

Rebuffed by Alaska Airlines, he instead bought a ticket for a Wien Consolidated Airlines 5:30 flight to Bethel. Unlike Alaska Airlines, Wien did not have a metal detector. In the United States, there was no requirement to screen all passengers and their luggage until 1973. Thomas boarded the Boeing 737 jetliner and sat in the front row. When the seatbelt sign turned off, he was up and walking for the nearest flight attendant.

Twenty-two-year-old Nancy Davis had been employed by Wien for just two weeks. The flight to Bethel was her first run as a full-fledged flight attendant. She told the Anchorage Daily News, “I was up front in the galley when he came out. He walked up and stuck a gun in my face and said ‘we’re not going to Bethel’ and that he was hijacking the plane. I told him not to say such things, but then he demanded that I take him into the cockpit.” There, he ordered the pilot to turn south, to take him to Cuba via Mexico. The first airplane hijacking in Alaska history had begun.

A fear of prison, especially of a notorious federal penitentiary like Leavenworth, is an understandable and doubtlessly honest sentiment. However, there are surer paths to avoiding prison than hijacking an airplane. In the aftermath, a veritable crowd of Alaskans swore, “He was such a nice guy,” that “It just doesn’t fit his attitude.” But in truth, he was the sort of person who ended a bar fight with a gun, the sort of person who considered skyjacking the solution to all his problems just two months into parole. His pondering capabilities once again failed him.

At this time, aerial hijackings were an inescapable part of American culture, continually present in the news, television, movies, and countless jokes. From 1968 to 1972, there were 137 hijacking attempts in the United States. Of those, 90 wanted a trip to Cuba. Thomas quite possibly wanted to hijack a plan because he saw it on TV.

Five people were pressed into the 737 cockpit. With Thomas and Davis, the party included Captain Don Peterson, First Officer Ray Miller, and engineer Keith Forsgren. “(Thomas) was really getting upset,” said Davis. “He was waving the gun around and threatened to shoot out through the window.” They discussed logistics, the airplane’s range, and Thomas’s preferred destinations. Together, they sketched out a rough flight plan: back to Anchorage for refueling and then on to Vancouver. Peterson said, “I told him we could make Mexico City from Vancouver and that seemed to satisfy him for a while, and that we would go on from Cuba to Mexico.”

Davis maintained a running conversation with Thomas. While admittedly “very frightened,” she said, “I just fed him coffee and tried to keep him talking as much as I could.” “We talked about his different philosophies. He was very down on life, depressed. At one point, he asked what I was thinking about. I told him I was praying for him. He said no one had ever done that for him before.”

As they approached Anchorage, she convinced him to release the 30 passengers and the other flight attendant, Margie Hertz. Most of the passengers were unaware that the plane had been commandeered. Peterson informed them over the intercom that they were returning to Anchorage but did not offer a reason. The fortunate passengers were greeted by law enforcement, reporters, and a slowly dawning realization.

A few passengers complained about the inconvenience of the day, in interviews conducted while the flight crew were still being held at gunpoint. Farris McAlister, a White Alice facility engineer, slept through the short flight. His wife woke him for their return to Anchorage. She told the Daily News, “My husband lost all of his bags. In fact, he had to go buy an extra razor.” Dr. Thomas Boyce, an orthopedic surgeon, declared, “It really messed up some people’s day.” Wien did arrange another flight to Bethel for the displaced passengers later that day.

Other reactions varied, mixtures of confusion, fear, and anger. Louis Bunyon Jr. woke as they landed. Expecting Bethel, he peered through the window and remarked, “It looks kind of funny.” Janet Napoleon said, “I don’t think I’ll ever want to fly again. I can stay in Hooper Bay.” Lawton Lyons had a ticket but missed the flight. He said, “I don’t believe in capital punishment, but they ought to shoot a guy who does that.” Different people had different reactions to the hijacking. Morgan Richardson, Wien’s assistant vice president for sales, told the Daily Times, “The hijacking took a fourth of our jet fleet away from us!”

The flight landed back at Anchorage at 6:49 a.m. The jet taxied to an area of the north-south runway reserved for small planes. It was refueled, and a bus carried the passengers to the terminal. At 7:40 a.m., they departed for Vancouver. Two F-4 Phantoms from Elmendorf Air Force Base tailed them until they reached the Canadian border.

Thomas grew increasingly unsettled as they approached their next destination. Said Peterson, “As we got nearer Vancouver he seemed totally undecided as to what to do next.” Davis noted, “(Thomas) was scared too. He had very nervous habits, and I was afraid if he got upset about anything he might start shooting.” He asked for liquor. “I told him there wasn’t any because it was a morning flight,” said Davis. “Actually, I lied. So I gave him coffee, and we talked. He said he was frightened about going back to jail.”

Around 11 a.m. Anchorage time, they landed in Vancouver. Some 25 Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or RCMP, officers surrounded the airplane but did not approach as it was refueled. Under orders from the RCMP, Jim MacDonald drove a fuel truck to the jet and ensured that a typically 15-minute refuel lasted 45 minutes. MacDonald noted, “At first they wanted to refuel the plane over the wing, which is a very irregular procedure and only done in emergency situations. It also takes a lot longer. I told them ‘no way’ because if the hijacker decided to get trigger happy, I’d have been a sitting duck on top of the wing.” Instead, he used as little pressure as possible to slow the process.

At 11:43, the Wien 737 left again for Mexico City. About 45 minutes out from Vancouver, a nervous Thomas ordered them to return. Now he wanted an airplane with greater range for his trip south. Upon arrival, Thomas allowed RCMP Inspector Bruce Northorp to board the plane. Shortly after that, the four remaining flight crew members, including Davis, were allowed to disembark. Northorp talked to Thomas in the cockpit for over an hour and a half. Per Northorp, they discussed the “facts of life” and realities of the situation. After that, Thomas surrendered.

An extremely exhausted Wien Airlines crew arrived back in Anchorage at 2:15 a.m. on Oct. 19. Wien officials praised Davis for de-escalating the situation. “She handled it extremely well,” said Wien vice president A. E. “Bud” Hagberg, “and we’re proud of her.” Later that same day, Thomas was extradited to Seattle before a return to Anchorage where he was held on federal charges of air piracy.

As the hijacker sat in the Anchorage jail, awaiting his turn in court, Anchorage resident L. D. Harman wrote a letter to the Daily Times. He sharply criticized the criminal justice system that had allowed an “emotionally unstable” criminal go free. “A convicted felon sentenced to 20 years has already demonstrated his inability to live within the laws of our society.”

Nearly two weeks later, Thomas sent in his own letter. “Mr. Harman, I’m sorry I didn’t spend every day of my 20-year sentence locked up. Perhaps I’d been a much better citizen and a more productive member to society if I had, though I doubt it. Six years didn’t help much. Do you think all 20 years would have?” He continued, “You say I’m an unstable person. Perhaps you’re right on that point, too. I defy you to spend six years of your life in an abnormal situation and see how normal you are in the end. I guarantee you’ll be a different person.” He ended, “Mr. Harman, in closing, I’d like to say I feel sorry for you.”

The air piracy charge carried a maximum possible sentence of death. Speaking on his behalf before final sentencing, Thomas said, “All the time I was in (prison), I thought about how good it would be once I got out. But it was not so easy. There are too many people against you.” Instead of the death penalty, he received only 20 years, the statutory minimum punishment. The lack of personal injuries and private property damage played a role in the decision.

He was sent to the McNeil Island penitentiary southwest of Tacoma, Washington. After roughly seven and a half years there, he was moved to an Anchorage halfway house meant to rehabilitate prisoners. After release, he found work as a mechanic. He died on Oct. 8, 2017, at an assisted living facility in Homer. His ashes were spread on the Kenai River.

In the 1972 disaster film “Skyjacked” starring Charlton Heston, an airliner bound for Minneapolis is diverted by bomb threat to Anchorage, then Moscow. The airliner dramatically lands in Anchorage after battling severe storms, zero visibility, empty fuel tanks, and a near miss with a small craft while descending. The film is based on the 1970 David Harper novel “Hijacked” and not Thomas’ adventure. Former NFL Pro Bowler Roosevelt “Rosey” Grier plays a passenger. He would have a more notable role in another 1970s movie set in Alaska, “Timber Tramps,” an eagerly awaited future article subject.

Key sources:

“The Beachcombers Hotel and Bar: A Legacy of the Tsunami.” Waterlines, Kodiak Maritime Museum, Spring 2014, 4.

Bauman, Margie. “First Alaska Skyjacking Drama Ends in Vancouver.” Anchorage Daily News, October 19, 1971, 1, 2.

Cowals, Dennis. “Jet Crew Returns Home Following Harrowing Flight.” Anchorage Daily Times, October 19, 1971, 1, 2.

Edscorn, Paul. “Hijacker Gets 20 Years.” Anchorage Daily Times, May 13, 1972, 1, 4.

Edscorn, Paul. “Record Shows Hijack Lacks Pondering Ability.” Anchorage Daily Times, October 27, 1971, 45.

Harman, L. D. Letter to editor. “Who is Guilty?” Anchorage Daily Times, October 23, 1971, 5.

“Kodiak Man Sentenced for Manslaughter.” Anchorage Daily News, June 1, 1966, 2.

Loll, Scott. “Accused Hijacker Termed ‘Nice,’ ‘Model Prisoner.’” Anchorage Daily Times, October 20, 1971, 33.

“Longest Job Ever.” [Victoria, BC] Daily Colonist, October 19, 1971, 1.

May, Lisa. “‘Eagle Eye’ Refuses Ticket to Thomas.” Anchorage Daily Times, October 19, 1971, 1, 2.

“Obituaries—Del Lavon Thomas.” Homer News, October 19, 2017.

Peck, Henry, and Neal Menschel. “Flight Delayed—Due to Hijacking.” Anchorage Daily News, October 19, 1971, 16.

“Stewardess: ‘Hijacker Was Scared, Too.’” Anchorage Daily News, October 19, 1971, 1, 2.

Thomas, Del Lavon. Letter to editor. “Reply to Harman.” Anchorage Daily Times, November 4, 1971, 5.

“Wien Plane Hijacked.” Anchorage Daily Times, October 18, 1971, 1, 2.