I daresay few of my readers will have heard of Ted Smith. He was a Sergeant in the Anchorage Police Department, and revamped and modernized that agency’s firearms training until it was one of the best in the nation. Towards the end of his career, he was its SWAT Team instructor and armorer.
I got to know Ted (pictured left) through my involvement in firearms training. He was spoken of with great respect by other firearms instructors of my acquaintance, including nationally known figures. I corresponded with him about certain issues, and spoke with him on the ‘phone now and again. I grew to like him very much.
When I fell in love with Miss D., it turned out that they were old buddies. (She was living in Anchorage at the time.) He was a pilot as well as a policeman, and she, of course, was a pilot too. While she was rebuilding her 1941-vintage taildragger at an Anchorage aviation shop, his Cessna was in for rebuilding as well, so they spent many hours in the workshop together, swapping stories and flying yarns. (You know the sort of thing – “There I was, upside down, nothing on the clock and still climbing . . . “) Ted helped jump-start her car one cold and snowy night at Merrill Field in Anchorage while on patrol there. Ted’s wife is a physical therapist, and Miss D. got to know her as well during her recovery from crippling knee injuries.
I got to meet Ted at last through my visits to Miss D. He seemed to look upon her very much as an older brother regards a much-cherished baby sister, and was very protective of her. When he finally informed her that in choosing me, she’d chosen well, it felt a bit like he’d pinned a medal on me! It meant a lot to both of us to have his open, overt approval like that. I can remember sharing a memorable (and memorably over-stuffed!) breakfast with him and Miss D. at an Anchorage eatery. (You know you’ve eaten too much when it’s difficult to fit yourself behind the steering-wheel!)
After we were married, Miss D. spent many months back up in Anchorage rebuilding her aircraft and preparing it for the long flight south (which she described at length on her blog during July 2011). Ted kept a fatherly eye on her, flew with her in his plane and hers (including a memorable trip to Homer for a meal), and escorted her to the Canadian border when she finally departed. In the picture below, taken from Miss D.’s plane during that flight, you can see Ted’s Cessna 182. (Our friend Jenny was on board with him.)
The bodies of two adults and a 10-year-old girl were found in the wreckage of a small airplane that crashed Monday near the route of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race.
Pilot Ted Smith, 59, Carolyn Sorvoja, 48, and Rosemarie Sorvoja, 10, died in the crash near Rainy Pass.
All were from Eagle River, a community on Anchorage’s north side.
They had left Anchorage on Monday morning bound for Takotna, a village of 53 people about 17 miles west of McGrath and 235 miles northwest of Anchorage. The community is more than a quarter of the way into the 1,000-mile Iditarod.
The Sorvoja family referred questions to family spokesman David Morris, who said the Sorvojas were heading to Takotna to volunteer for the race.
The Cessna 182 left Anchorage from Merrill Field at about 10 a.m. and did not file a flight plan.
Alaska State Troopers spokeswoman Megan Peters said by email that the airplane was supposed to drop off the Sorvojas and return to Anchorage to transport more passengers.
The 182 Cessna did not arrive in Takotna and was reported overdue around 4 p.m. when it had not returned to Anchorage.
There’s more at the link. (The Sorvoja family were Ted’s neighbors.) Another report on the crash, including the (very poor) weather conditions in Rainy Pass that day, may be found here: and fellow officers recall their memories of Ted here.
Miss D. is very upset at Ted’s death, of course; he’s not the first pilot friend she’s lost in Alaska, which can be deadly to fliers, but he’s probably the closest. For myself, I can only say he was one of life’s natural gentlemen, someone I’m proud to have been able to call an acquaintance, if not a close friend. His blessing on our marriage meant a great deal to Miss D. and myself.
I’m going to hoist a glass of something amber and highly alcoholic in Ted’s memory. I daresay Miss D. will join me. Normal blogging will resume tomorrow.
Rest in peace, Ted. You’re missed more than words can say.
Peter
Aw, man. I heard about that crash. So sorry to hear that you knew him, and he sounds like a great guy. My prayers for the family, and for you and Miss D.
My condolences, Peter.
I'm sorry to hear of your loss, Peter and Miss D. It sounds like he was quite a fellow.
Here's to the good ones. Prosit!
I didn't realize you were acquainted with him, but I remember Miss D's stories about those times. My condolences to you both, and I'll join you in that salute.
Absent friends.