"They were closing Bolinger Field. The guys who have these little planes would rather fly out of a smaller field. I didn't have any level land. This has not been an airport that should ever have been built.

"My dad owned part of the land, and I bought part of it. About 1954, I started digging. And I just kept digging and digging, any excuse to be here, you know. We built it with used equipment I'd buy, and everybody would help.

"These big construction companies needed somebody in bad weather to fly them, and I was their man, and they would lend me equipment.

 "The first part had 800 feet. I started instructing on that, and that's not much of an airport. We enlarged it in the early '60s. Just kept digging. We're still digging. I don't think the improvement will ever stop.

"We ran on mud for a long time, a dirt runway. I've got one airplane I've had for 46 years. They started calling it 'Dirty George' because of the mud stains on it.

"I put it to work for the telephone company. I surveyed the whole state, counted every house up to the city limit, first time it was ever done. Our telephone contract lasted probably three years and made a bundle of money.

"The first building as you walk in was the first hangar. I built that for a different situation. I was going to make it an aircraft engine shop. I ran a big maintenance garage at the foot of hill in the '60s. We took care of Broughton Dairy and the Pony Express. I built automatic transmissions. I built all of Joe Holland's. They'd pull them out and send them to us.

"So I wanted to get into the aircraft end of it, but then I started building the airport. So instead of an engine shop, we built this hangar.

"We have around 70 planes up here. A lady doing a report on airports told us we had more than 15,300 approach communications going out of here last year. She said when we go out here and work in the pattern, we're on a transponder that marks where there's a possible operation. They said we had 23,000 operations out of here last year. She said, 'You don't know this, but you are the busiest airport in the state.' I don't know whether it's true, but we are busy.

"Communities have helped a lot. Corporations have helped a lot. All I had was the dream. Everybody else put it together. We've got the best group you could ever have in aviation, all looking out for each other.

"The office is full every day. If something needs to be done, they are willing to help. I never would have thought it would have gotten as big as it has. The reason is the people.

"I've probably taught more people to fly and licensed more people than any other pilot in West Virginia. I've got good instructors, but I still like to teach instrument flying. I will fly 15 hours a week. I do about all the multiple-engine licenses.

"Four of my students are working with the FAA in Cincinnati. A gang of them fly for the airlines. They don't never forget you.

"Your desire to teach flying is your love for the people you teach. There's a closeness there that never lets go. I had a big old boy come in the other day. He said, 'You gave me my ratings. You know what I'm doing? I'm flying a 757 to London every night.'

"I wouldn't be able to count the planes I've flown. Hundreds of them. Different makes, models and speeds. Every now and then, I will buy an airplane, sell an airplane or trade. Everybody who wants an airplane wants me to hunt one because I'm a federal maintenance inspector.

"A legend? I don't count myself as that. I count myself as being able to produce the love that I had wanted to do all my life. I have been able to produce it because of the people.

"I want to build a restaurant on the bank. I'd like to have a big porch so kids can watch planes land and get a great enjoyment out of aviation like I have. I hope to do that in the next five years. I've always got a dream. My wife says, 'When are you going to quit dreaming?' I say, 'When I croak.'

 "This field here, a lot of people say, 'That's your field, Benny.' I feel like it's our field. When I croak, I don't know that I'm not going to leave it to some of them to help guide my son that's crippled. I got two sons crippled. The one who runs the store has MS.

"I had four kids. My oldest boy became a great pilot, 10,000 hours, and also is a federal maintenance inspector. He got Parkinson's and couldn't fly anymore. He's still here with us giving federal tests.

"I want to keep it open for the guys who have enjoyed it and helped me. It's not a money thing. If it was a money thing, I would have gotten into something to make some money."

Reach Sandy Wells at 348-5173 or by e-mail, san...@wvgazette.com.

Hear excerpts from Benny Mallory's interview

In the mid-1950s, on Spring Hill Mountain, high above Mudsuck Creek in South Charleston, Benny Mallory started digging an airport. With shovels, old dozers, borrowed machinery and sweat equity from his flying community, he created a rustic dirt strip that barely stretched 800 feet.

He kept digging. The tiny airfield kept growing. The digging goes on.

Most people know it as Mallory Airport. Insiders call it "Mudsuck International."

He recently learned that his humble little airport probably is the busiest in the state.

His old-shoe, aw-shucks demeanor belies the respect he's earned as a federal inspector and flight examiner. He doesn't seek recognition or glory. It finds him anyway. In the aviation world, his reputation soars far beyond the wild blue yonder of West Virginia.

Last year, the FAA bestowed on him its two highest honors - Master Mechanic and Master Pilot. In 2002, he represented West Virginia as a ceremonial pilot in a national 9/11 commemoration. Many other awards hang amid souvenir solo shirts and aircraft photos in the homey airport office.

Except for flying itself, nothing makes him happier than teaching. He can't begin to count the number of students he trained and licensed, the different planes he's flown or the dignitaries he's transported.

In flying circles, the 77-year-old aviator is a West Virginia legend. He scoffs at that. He just sees a man who realized a dream.

"I grew up right here on the mountain, in Mudsuck, W.Va. The creek that runs down through here was the front end of Mudsuck.

"I had seven brothers and eight sisters. My mother ran a grocery store. It's been open 100 years by my family. My son is running the store now. I delivered groceries all over the country by horse.

"My dad was in the coal business. We delivered coal to Carbide and places like that. Back then, you started driving early. I think I had my original license at 12. You had to lie a little bit.

"I did lot of flying out of Bolinger Field, now behind the Southridge Wal-Mart. The original runway is at the Army Guard building there. I used to go out there and watch them pick up the mail with an old Stinson. That was the original thing that made me want to fly. I was probably 10 or 12.

"I started hanging out at the seaplane base right below the Dunbar Bridge. I started riding and flying there before I was old enough to do it. We were good friends with the people who ran it. I flew from the levee in Charleston, too. They had two seaplane bases - the levee at Charleston and the one at Dunbar.

"I just loved it, and I've loved it ever since. In order to support the flying habit, I've been in a lot of different businesses, but my whole heart has been in aviation.

"I was married in high school. Been married 59 years. I graduated from South Charleston. I was in the trucking business in high school. I had five trucks on the road. That was back in the old Kanawha Valley Bank days. They would let us have anything we wanted.

"Three trucks were hauling fertilizer. I had two trucks on the road to Fairmont every night from Owens-Illinois Glass to Owens up there. One made the glass bottles, and I hauled the paper up to put the glass bottles in. I had a five-year contract on that.

"My principal helped me. If a truck broke down, he would come get me in class and let me talk to the driver or let me go fix it. I had my own private place behind the school to park.

"I was fumbling with flying. Every time I'd get an extra buck, I'd go down and ride and fly. I didn't get really seriously into flying until about 1952.

"I could have gone to college. I had a scholarship in football. That was probably the only reason I finished school, because I loved to play football.

"I got drafted in the Marine Corps and had to sell my trucks. I think there were only 13 ever drafted in like that. I fell into the trucking end of the Marine Corps. I've always been a mechanic, so that made it easy for me in the Marine Corps.

"The guy who owned the fertilizer company helped me stay in the trucking business. I got back from the Marine Corps on a Wednesday. He called on Thursday and wanted me to have the trucks I'd sold to him. So I started up again. He gave me such a deal I couldn't afford not to.

"They were closing Bolinger Field. The guys who have these little planes would rather fly out of a smaller field. I didn't have any level land. This has not been an airport that should ever have been built.

"My dad owned part of the land, and I bought part of it. About 1954, I started digging. And I just kept digging and digging, any excuse to be here, you know. We built it with used equipment I'd buy, and everybody would help.

"These big construction companies needed somebody in bad weather to fly them, and I was their man, and they would lend me equipment.

 "The first part had 800 feet. I started instructing on that, and that's not much of an airport. We enlarged it in the early '60s. Just kept digging. We're still digging. I don't think the improvement will ever stop.

"We ran on mud for a long time, a dirt runway. I've got one airplane I've had for 46 years. They started calling it 'Dirty George' because of the mud stains on it.

"I put it to work for the telephone company. I surveyed the whole state, counted every house up to the city limit, first time it was ever done. Our telephone contract lasted probably three years and made a bundle of money.

"The first building as you walk in was the first hangar. I built that for a different situation. I was going to make it an aircraft engine shop. I ran a big maintenance garage at the foot of hill in the '60s. We took care of Broughton Dairy and the Pony Express. I built automatic transmissions. I built all of Joe Holland's. They'd pull them out and send them to us.

"So I wanted to get into the aircraft end of it, but then I started building the airport. So instead of an engine shop, we built this hangar.

"We have around 70 planes up here. A lady doing a report on airports told us we had more than 15,300 approach communications going out of here last year. She said when we go out here and work in the pattern, we're on a transponder that marks where there's a possible operation. They said we had 23,000 operations out of here last year. She said, 'You don't know this, but you are the busiest airport in the state.' I don't know whether it's true, but we are busy.

"Communities have helped a lot. Corporations have helped a lot. All I had was the dream. Everybody else put it together. We've got the best group you could ever have in aviation, all looking out for each other.

"The office is full every day. If something needs to be done, they are willing to help. I never would have thought it would have gotten as big as it has. The reason is the people.

"I've probably taught more people to fly and licensed more people than any other pilot in West Virginia. I've got good instructors, but I still like to teach instrument flying. I will fly 15 hours a week. I do about all the multiple-engine licenses.

"Four of my students are working with the FAA in Cincinnati. A gang of them fly for the airlines. They don't never forget you.

"Your desire to teach flying is your love for the people you teach. There's a closeness there that never lets go. I had a big old boy come in the other day. He said, 'You gave me my ratings. You know what I'm doing? I'm flying a 757 to London every night.'

"I wouldn't be able to count the planes I've flown. Hundreds of them. Different makes, models and speeds. Every now and then, I will buy an airplane, sell an airplane or trade. Everybody who wants an airplane wants me to hunt one because I'm a federal maintenance inspector.

"A legend? I don't count myself as that. I count myself as being able to produce the love that I had wanted to do all my life. I have been able to produce it because of the people.

"I want to build a restaurant on the bank. I'd like to have a big porch so kids can watch planes land and get a great enjoyment out of aviation like I have. I hope to do that in the next five years. I've always got a dream. My wife says, 'When are you going to quit dreaming?' I say, 'When I croak.'

 "This field here, a lot of people say, 'That's your field, Benny.' I feel like it's our field. When I croak, I don't know that I'm not going to leave it to some of them to help guide my son that's crippled. I got two sons crippled. The one who runs the store has MS.

"I had four kids. My oldest boy became a great pilot, 10,000 hours, and also is a federal maintenance inspector. He got Parkinson's and couldn't fly anymore. He's still here with us giving federal tests.

"I want to keep it open for the guys who have enjoyed it and helped me. It's not a money thing. If it was a money thing, I would have gotten into something to make some money."

Reach Sandy Wells at 348-5173 or by e-mail, san...@wvgazette.com.