“There are old pilots, there are bold pilots, but there are no old and bold pilots.” That warning is hammered through to every would-be flyer that ever trains, and parallels a much simpler saying: “Don’t be stupid.” Pilots are bold by nature…they’ve decided that nature can be ignored and that humans can fly, and they have chosen to do it themselves. The phrase does have truth to it: many overzealous pilots have been killed after attempting a maneuver beyond their skill level, and flying in a safe, reserved and cautious manner is the best way to ensure safety. But with no amount of uncertainty, can it be said that there is at least one man who met the qualifications for an old and bold pilot: Alvin M. “Tex” Johnston.

Johnston, who was born in 1914, had flight on his brain from the moment he saw a barnstormer perform as a kid. By the time he was fifteen he had made his solo flights, and shortly after started barnstorming himself before becoming a training instructor in the Civilian Pilot Training Program. When World War II kicked off, Johnston moved over to the Army Air Corps’ ferry program. That led to work at Bell as a flight test engineer, where he flew several historical craft, including the landmark X-1 aircraft, which he adored. He was hired as a test pilot by Boeing in 1948, and worked on the B-47 Stratojet program as a chief test pilot before he became the first man to fly the B-52 Stratofortress.

But without question, Johnston’s moment of glory came on August 6, 1955. During the late summer, Seattle holds the Seafair hydroplane races on Lake Washington, and members of the Aircraft Industries Association (AIA) and the International Air Transport Association (IATA) were in the region for conferences. At the request of Boeing CEO Bill Allen, members of the two groups were invited out to the lake. Allen had set up a flyover of the Dash 80 to prove a point about how aircraft were going to move from piston-driven propellor airframes to jets, and wanted the conference members to see the jet, a largely handbuilt venture, in action. Johnston himself had an idea all on his own, and knowing full well what would happen if his plan was leaked ahead of time, kept it to himself until he was just over Lake Washington. There, above the crowds that had congregated to watch the Gold Cup Races, Johnston performed two barrel rolls over the quite astonished crowds.  Allen, who was beyond the point of anger, is rumored to have  turned to Larry Bell of Bell Aircraft, who was suffering from a heart condition, and growled, “Give me one of those damned pills, I need it more than you do.” He thought that Johnston had lost his mind, and rightfully so: the 367-80 represented a staggering financial gamble for Boeing, one that would only be succeeded by the development of the 747.

The next morning Johnston was called into Allen’s office. The wording tends to change based on who is telling the story, but Allen demanded to know just what the hell Johnston was doing the day prior, and in cowboy boots that were made specifically for the test (part of the reason for the nickname “Tex”) Johnston simply said, “Selling the airplane.”

The Dash 80 hung around Boeing as a test aircraft before being retired in 1969. In 2003, after restoration, the plane was flown to the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Virginia, where it is now a display aircraft. Johnston went on to manage Aero Spacelines (the airline that ran the Supper Guppy aircraft), NASA, and Stanley Aviation Corporation before retiring. He passed on in 1998, but his legacy stuck…before the first test flight of the Boeing 777, test pilot John E. Cashman was warned by Boeing President Phil Condit: “No rolls.”