It was 1972 and I just came to the Institute (already a private pilot). My first flight instructor was Harry Anderson. When he though that my aircraft control was sloppy, he'd snap the Champ into a spin. I think that calmed Harry. I often thought that Harry had lit his cigar while flying but I'd look back and it was in his mouth, unlit but smelling. PS; Harry, I didn't get my private license in a Cracker Jack box. PS2; Harry, thanks for giving me great aircraft control..