In 1942 a five-year-old boy sat on his front steps in the Bronx and watched–enthralled–as a Navy fighter flashed by overhead. His name was Neil Cosentino, and he knew at that moment that he would be a pilot when he grew up. At the same age, I and thousands of other boys made the same decision. But we grew up to become Librarians and Lawyers and Managers. Neil made his dream come true. This is his story. Or part of it, drawn from a few of the stories he’s shared with us.
All of us in OLLI have experienced “adventures” in our lives. Not always intentionally. Neil did not experience adventures. He created them. He reveled in them. And he shared many of them with OLLI Connects. Let’s use his stories to explore and appreciate his life, starting with that five-year-old boy.
Neil Cosentino 1937-2024
Summoned to the Sky
“I remember it as though it was yesterday. My 5-year-old life changed during WW II when I saw a Navy fighter buzz the neighborhood. My aviation career started very early that morning. l was sitting on the front steps and watched a Navy fighter–probably a Corsair–make a low pass over our house. In retrospect it was that lucky moment that set my course for then and into the future …“
The transition from five-year-old boy to fighter pilot involves training—lots of training. And some occasional not-quite-fatal misjudgments. In 1959, during his USAF Primary Pilot Training at Spence Air Base in Georgia, Cadet Cornelius Cosentino was one of several cadet pilots doing a solo, cross-county, night navigation exercise in a T-28 trainer. Knowing that he could easily complete the mission as assigned, Neil “cut some corners” to get himself back to the origin-destination point ahead of the rest of the squadron, so he’d have time to test some maneuvers he’d wanted to try. It didn’t go quite as he planned.
“I slowly rolled inverted and suddenly lost all orientation. The barnyard lights of the isolated Georgia farms below all became part of the stars, and the stars became barnyard lights. The scattered lights of the night countryside blended in with the stars and my view of the world was all fused into one. For a few scary moments I could not distinguish up from down.”
Surviving unscathed, though a bit shaken, Neil successfully completed his Primary Pilot Training. After completing several phases of training, Neil spent several years flying B-47 and B-52 bombers. But fighters were his first love, and he was eventually able to train for and qualify as F-4 Phantom pilot.
Phantom training completed, Neil got a real assignment. And created a new adventure on his way there.
“The dream of being on a Navy warship and the (Victory at Sea) music stayed with me even after I’d joined the Air Force and become a pilot…. I was assigned to the 62nd Tactical Fighter Squadron at Misawa, Japan. I could have flown to Japan, but instead I decided I’d try to make that lifelong dream come true. I asked if I could travel to Japan on a Navy warship. Luck was with me…I was told to report to DESRON 5 (Destroyer Squadron 5), at the San Diego Navy Base. A flotilla of warships was departing in two days, and I would be allowed on board.“
Reaching Japan, Neil arrived in Misawa by train just after an earthquake. Until he could find off-base quarters, his wife Maria, who was in California, couldn’t join him. With no houses available to rent, Neil decided to build his own. His roommate in the BOQ (Bachelor Officer Quarters) was a helicopter pilot, and Neil rode with him during proficiency training missions to look for a building site. Eventually finding–and creatively marking–some land he could rent, he designed a small house, arranged to have it built, and–with Maria–spent the rest of his Misawa tour in a house with a view of the ocean. Building a House In Japan.
As a Phantom pilot, Neil flew many combat missions in Viet Nam. We have included two compelling full-length stories from that part of his career in this issue: White Lights and Hut Flight.
With the war’s end, Neil turned to civilian flying. After a stint in Iran with TRW, Neil took a job as a private pilot in the Bahamas for a wealthy German entrepreneur named Alfred, a job which led him to fly a twin-engine Piper Navajo over the Andes Mountains. Descending into the Amazon basin, he encountered a sight like none he’d seen before.
Crossing the Andes
“And as the descent-to-deck angle changed, all I could see in the windscreen ahead was a solid green: the Amazonas….The extended slow-motion descent gave me a strange out-of-body experience that I’d never experienced before….as if I was the pilot of a spaceship in a very slow-motion descent into a vast strange sameness to find a place to land on a strange green planet.”
While living in the Bahamas, Neil acquired a sailboat, the Mayaguana, which led to–at least–two more adventures, one serene and magical….and one perilous.
The Last Sail of the Mayaguana
“We took turns at the tiller and no longer needed the compass, since the North Star was just above the top of the mast. And each time I took my turn at the tiller, the moon and stars moved steadily across the heavens. It was hour after hour of a truly once-in-a-life-time magical night. “
While flying Alfred to a business meeting in North Carolina, Neil noticed and marked on his chart a long, paved runway high in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. When it came time to leave the Bahamas, Neil and Maria moved to Boone, NC, and built a cabin on Waldo’s Pond. Their original plan for a log cabin kit home fell through, so Neil found some plans and built the cabin himself.
On Waldo’s Pond
“As architect, contractor and laborer, it all went well. We moved in and lived very enjoyable years of a quiet life on Waldo’s pond. Our neighbors were blue birds and hummingbirds, and we welcomed occasional family and friends visiting from California, New England, Germany and Tampa.”
Neil’s adventures after his return to Tampa included rescuing the historic Deutscher-Americaner Club and a 1992 Civil Air Patrol reconnaissance flight after Hurricane Andrew.
Hurricane Andrew
“The second shock came as I climbed to a safe “engine out, glide-to-land” altitude for crossing Biscayne Bay. I looked ahead to the west toward Homestead and saw one of the strangest sights that I have seen in over 6,000 flying hours. The entire horizon that should have been green was a bright shiny, orange-yellow-gold color, like someone had used bright crayons to color the shoreline.”
Neil’s life of adventure ended on October 9, 2024. We miss him. Not just for his stories but for the infectious “Let’s try this and see what happens!” attitude, which never left him.
You can read all of the stories he shared with us, including his entry in our “To Tell the Truth” challenge by scrolling down to the bottom of this page and entering “Cosentino” in the Search box. You can also read and, if you wish, download a PDF of his book Letters from the Cockpit. It contains some stories we haven’t linked to here.
While we can’t prove it, we like to think Neil is looking over our shoulder now and saying, “Hey! Did I ever tell you about the time…?” — Editors
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