John Amundsen, born in Bulyea, Saskatchewan (Canada) became a naturalized US citizen, moving to the Seattle area. He met his beloved Lillian at Emmanuel Tabernacle near Woodland Park and they married in 1935.

Johnnie always had a love for aviation. He learned to fly and took these skills to Alaska where he was a pioneer bush pilot in south central and southeast Alaska. Eventually, he was hired on with Pan American World Airways. During World War II the US Navy took over Pan Am's Pacific operation, giving him a reserve commission as a second lieutenant. He was stationed in various places in his early years with Pan Am, including Miami and San Francisco. Eventually, he and Lillian settled back in Seattle, flying out of Seattle Tacoma Interational Airport for the rest of his career. His routes included Alaska, Hawaii, Tokyo and London. He had logged well over 30,000 hours, concluding as a captain on the Boeing 707.

After his retirement, Johnnie took up the hobby of Ham radio, quickly studying his way to the Advanced Class license. Radio gave him much pleasure in talking with his brother Roald in Alaska and many other people, near and far. Though he loved aviation, he always enjoyed a good road trip. He loved his family and grandchildren. He was active in his church and had a beautiful bass voice.

He is remembered for his pioneering aviation, wonderful sense of wit and humor, and ability as a great story teller.

He was survived by his wife Lillian (d. 2001) and his children David, Marlene, Dale and Dan.

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter – silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun – split clouds – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.