#24 Rumours and Rocket Fuel: Sleuthing the Space Coast

“Florrrrida … Florrrida…” – a whisper in my ear. What was that? Ah, it was the allure of Florida calling. I already had five reasons* to take the trip [from WA]. I usually only need a half of one.

The place I rented in Cocoa Beach was a mid-century rambler on the skirts of a mid-century neighborhood. Here, they embrace Space Race kitsch. Out for a run, I found myself on I Dream of Jeannie Lane.

The street sign, "I Dream Of Jeannie Lane".

Major Tony Nelson (actor Larry Hagman) in his astronaut uniform. — *I half expected Major Tony Nelson to back out of a driveway in a convertible, trailed by cartoon smoke and canned laughter.*

*5 Reasons to go:

Watch a rocket launch. It’s like fireworks, only with existential implications.
Meet strangers from the internet.
Get nerdy at The Sands Space History Center.
Visit the two small airports that feature in the “stolen aircraft” mystery.
Dig through dusty archives in local libraries and newspapers like it’s a Cold War treasure hunt.

Following through on Reason #1:

We saw two rockets launched from Cape Canaveral. One from the local beach …

A rocket launches into a clear blue sky, above Cocoa Beach, Florida. — A rocket launch from Cape Canaveral, as seen from Cocoa Beach.

… and one from a front row seat at Jetty Park Launch Viewpoint at night. The crowd: a few thousand launch nerds, retirees in lawn chairs, and families armed with glow sticks and binoculars. It had the vibe of a Grateful Dead concert, minus the patchouli and plus a countdown.

The croud gathered on the pier at Jetty Park Launch Viewpoint. — On the pier at Jetty Park Launch viewpoint.

And when the rocket took off? It was like the Almighty’s own bottle rocket. Pure thunder. Even the seagulls looked impressed.

A vintage ad for model rockets. — In the 1960s, my brother would build and launch model rockets from the ballfield across the street. This wasn’t that.

True to form, in an effort to exercise perfect time management, we dashed around to beat alla hell. We managed to cram in an evening at a local jazz club where a Fleetwood Mac tribute band assailed – I mean regaled – us with a laundry list of covers. Number one hits from the 70s and 80s …

A photo in a nightclub of a Fleetwood Mac tribute band performing. — Fleetwood Mac Tribute Band.

But the Space Coast wasn’t all just Rumours and rocket fuel. Somewhere in all that noise – blenders, engines, jazz solos, and old secrets – were the faint echoes of two missing men.

Following through on Reason #2 (part one) :

There was a guy who answered a message that I’d posted to a thread on an Eastern Test Range enthusiasts site. He said, upon his departure, my uncle had taken over his job on San Salvador Island. I kind of blew it off at first, because he seemed too good to be true. As it turned out, Lou was absolutley fantastic! He was for real. He is for real. He lives in Florida. So we went. Cousin John and I met Lou & his girlfriend, Lian, at a raucous fish shack called The Freezer in Homosassa, Florida. A three hour drive from the Space Coast, where we were staying, but well worth it. I stepped away for a minute and came back to find John and Lou already in full bromance mode as they discovered a six-degrees-of-LinkedIn connection. Turns out Lou knew the founder of John’s company. Meanwhile, I got to chat with Lian, originally from Taiwan, as we shouted over the tumult of conversations and cajun music. Lou had insights, anecdotes, and possibly more clearance than your average Bond villain.

Lou, in his 90's. He's pointing to a photo on his laptop screen. The rest of the bar is in the background. — Lou, showing us photos. The Freezer, Homosassa, Florida. 2025

Following through on Reason #3:

We visited The Sands Space History Center at Cape Canaveral.

“The Block II!” John’s eyes lit up like a launch pad. We were in the Sands Space Museum, and this 1/10th scale GPS satellite model had turned my usually composed cousin into a human exclamation point. He made me take photos from every angle, like it was his prom date.

John Langer and his satellite - on display at the Sands Space Museum. The satellite is on display. Not John. — GPS John, in his element.

Located behind the SpaceX Control Center, at the Sands Space Museum, we were hoping to find more information on some items listed in the 1958 Government Report. The museum is a treasure trove of Cold War era space race stuff. No luck on the Government Report front. We were on a tour that most had taken to view the historic Cape Canaveral Lighthouse. We, however, were there for cool space shit.

Inside the hangar at the Sands Space Museum.

Control center at the Sands Space Museum.

Following through on Reason #4:

We visited both Melbourne and Valkaria airports – two small airfields stitched into the broader fabric of our uncle’s mystery.

At Melbourne Airport – the very place where Donald Diehl’s plane was stolen in 1958 – we met Jennifer from Sheltair. I started casually telling her the story. Funny thing happens when you start this tale: people listen. Not just politely. They lean in, elbows on counters, heads tilted, eyes locked. Comments float in from back offices. Folks emerge like curious termites.
“Wait… what’s this?”
Receptionists call over their shoulders, “Jay? You hearing this?”
“Yup.”
“When did you say this happened?”

The story pulls people in. It makes them want to help, to know.

We didn’t turn up much information at Melbourne, but standing on that tarmac – smelling the avgas, watching the small planes taxi – it brought a rush of memories. There’s something about small airports. The hum. The openness. A ghost of the past in every hangar.

Then we headed to Valkaria – smaller still – the airfield where Don’s plane was eventually found. I shared the story with the front desk staff. “Liesl, are you hearing this?” the receptionist called out. Liesl came from the back, intrigued. As we spoke, the airport manager wandered in – a history buff himself – and even he hadn’t heard about the stolen plane.

We made connections. Swapped contacts. Stirred curiosity. Leaned on countertops. No solid leads yet. But doors cracked open. And sometimes, that’s how it begins.

Following through on Reason #5:

There came the fateful visit to the Central Library in Cocoa. I believe I heard harps and the voices of angels singing as we were introduced to Tammy. She had ideas on finding info on Don’s missing airplane, but couldn’t help us with newspaper archives in that moment. We made a date to come back and look for newspaper articles about Donald Diehl’s stolen plane. Due to extenuating circumstances, we did not make it back.

Inside the Cocoa, Florida Central Library. — Central Library in Cocoa, Florida.

Following through on Reason #2 (Part 2) :

Around Christmas, I got a surprise call from Kim – niece of Donald Diehl, the man who vanished alongside my uncle. I’d previously sent her a letter that bounced back (wrong Kim) and another to her mom that seemed to vanish into the void. Turns out Kim was visiting her mom in Florida for the holidays and happened upon my letter while sorting through months of mail. A Christmas mystery miracle. Kim is sharp, funny, and came ready to sleuth. Years ago, she’d tried looking into Don’s suspicious diving accident, it had seemed fishy to her [pun intended], but hit a wall. She, like other of Don’s family I’d spoken with, had not known of Don’s sports plane.

During the trip, we met for lunch at a waterfront spot near Orlando. Loud, of course – Florida seems to specialize in restaurants where the walls vibrate. Kim brought her Aunt Sue, who also knew pieces of the story. We speculated over the demise of our lost uncles. As we parted, Kim said, “Find that plane and you’ll crack this case.” Was that a challenge?

2 smiling women, sitting at a table. — Me & Kim Diehl. Pier 220, Titusville, Florida. 2025

We wrapped up the trip – another one for the books.

After returning home, I received an email from Angel Tammy the Librarian. “I have turned up a few articles, but they appear to be those that you already have.” They were. Except for one. There it was! An article WITH A PHOTO about Donald Diehl’s plane being recovered at Valkaria. The photo showed the aircraft, covered in palm fronds and police standing around, scratching their heads. But the most important detail – the information that had eluded my sleuthing for months- the coveted tail number! Clear as a bell.

I did what I do. I looked it up. I found the owner. I called the number.

The 94 year old owner answered the phone. He was dumbfounded. He’s quite proud of having owned this plane since 1971. He’d never heard the story of it’s rebellious period. We had a great conversation. Then I sent him a letter filled with my findings of articles containing photos of the plane.

A black and white newspaper photo. An aircraft covered in palm fronds. 3 men stand in front of it.

I never heard back. I think a trip to Wisconsin (the plane’s [now] home state) is in order.

As it turned out, anyone can order full historical information about any aircraft from the FAA. This I did. I spent an extra 10 bucks to get it certified. I ordered it from my phone as I sat in a seafood outlet at the Tokeland Marina. It didn’t seem real to me. Like, Joe Schmuck can just ask for the info and it’s sent to him?

About a week later, it arrived. I’d ridden my bike to the post office, as is my way.

The package at the post office, with my bicycle in the background.

The package was a heavy, thick stack.

The stack of papers with a blue ribbon. — “Certified” means you get a fake blue ribbon with a fake gold sticker wrapped around your paperwork. Like a prize in a cereal box.

Every piece of paper involving this aircraft was there. A thick report containing sales receipts, registration certificates, major modifications the aircraft had undergone, various correspondences… all there.

Donald Diehl's aircraft's bill of sale. — Turns out, even ghost planes keep receipts. Donald Diehl had purchased the plane in January of 1958, using “chattel” and $1,050.

Donald Diehl's certificate of registration.

Also included were court documents – placed after Donald’s disappearance – requesting Donald’s father, Walter, be able to sell the aircraft as is was a “drain on the estate”.