The view from above

A day at the office for Mary Miller means shooting pictures while simultaneously piloting an aircraft.

By STEVEN A. SIMON
© St. Petersburg Times
published December 21, 2001

LUTZ -- "Make sure you get some Dramamine. It gets pretty bumpy up there."

This was Mary Miller's first bit of advice while preparing to be interviewed during one of her aerial photography shoots. "I have to do a lot of banking to get just the right shot," she said. "Sometimes it gets rough."

Miller, founder and owner of Florida Aerial Services Team, or FAST, is always on the move. She describes her business as the third-largest aerial photography company in Florida. It is appropriate that, although she lives next door, I had to arrange the flight and interview via cell phone.

Moments before, she had called over to me as she backed out of her driveway. "I'll call you in a few minutes." Now, as she spoke, she was driving south on the Veterans' Expressway in her metallic beige Jaguar, top down, her curly, shoulder-length red hair blowing freely as she hurried to an evening meeting.

I figured a one-hour flight would be plenty. Miller's typical flights (she "batches" jobs, sometimes doing 40 to 60 in one day) last four to five hours and can go as long as eight hours, not counting refueling stops -- a long time in the cramped confines of a Cessna cockpit.

FAST is the lucrative business of providing paying customers with high-quality aerial photos of, well, just about anything.

Most of her business is with developers and contractors. Her photos are often the key exhibits these business people use to obtain funding. Bankers and other lenders seem to respond more favorably to her photos than to a map or the featureless high-altitude plat photographs the government takes.

Miller's initial assignment for a company will usually be photographing a bare site, to give developers and lenders a view of the land and its surroundings. Then she'll frequently be contracted to take a succession of shots as the building progresses. One of her more interesting jobs, she said, was a series showing the roof of Tampa's Ice Palace being slid into place. Not all jobs are routine shootings of land or buildings for developers.

She has had her share of unusual assignments, as well. Her favorite was shooting into Raymond James stadium during the 2001 Super Bowl.

Her most bizarre: A man who had stopped by the roadside to relieve himself and was charged with indecent exposure. "He hired me to photograph the exact area where he'd stopped, to demonstrate he'd chosen a secluded spot where he wasn't visible to anyone."

A big believer in loyalty

When she speaks, Miller exudes a quiet confidence that she admits she didn't always have.

"I'm a small business -- I constantly have to sell," she said. "At first, I'd walk into a company, desperate for a sale, totally focused on getting the job. I wouldn't know what to say. I didn't know how to market. But I learned. Now, I'm much more relaxed. I'll talk a little about the work, then switch to golf or something. Really, the client is buying me, not my photography."

She is also a big believer in loyalty. And, as with any retail business, attracting new clients is a crucial part of the operation. "The business only exists as long as we keep marketing and selling," she says.

Miller flies twice in a typical week, devoting the rest of her time to building the customer base.

Repeat business, however, is an increasingly big part of her operation, which reduces the selling pressure. In addition to periodic shots of the same property as it is developed, Miller finds that many companies automatically call her when they have new projects; she is currently doing seven for one developer. This gives her the luxury to, as she indecorously puts it, "fire clients."

She says she used to take anyone, but now that she is more established, she can afford to be more selective. The growing success and maturity of the company are symbolized by the business' recent move from Miller's home to a Lutz storefront.

The new facility features a photo-developing lab, which allows the company to control more tightly both the timeliness and the quality of the work.

Differences in standards

Miller's biggest dilemma is whether to seek growth and, if so, how much. Growing much larger would require more staff and less time in the air, and quality control would become a challenge. Miller does all the flying and photography now, and a good portion of the marketing and office work.

A previous attempt to get a flying and shooting partner broke down over differences in standards. Miller now can grow only as far as she can stretch herself. And she also wants "to have a life," she says.

At 44, she is about to adopt a child. When she's not working, her many hobbies include golf, tennis, billiards, auto racing (she's working on getting licensed), downhill skiing and piano. The formal living room in her Cheval home is dominated by a large Yamaha piano, which she plays for relaxation. Flying, however, is her undisputed favorite activity, prompting her to establish the firm in 1987.

She took up flying in 1986, largely to fill time and occupy her mind after a divorce. She took to it immediately and knew she wanted to make her living in the air.

"I didn't want to be an airline pilot, though," she said. "I've heard they are just glorified bus drivers. I wanted some independence." So she paired her love of flying with her interest in photography (she is self-taught), spoke to a few people in the industry, and started the company. Sales were slow at first. After two years of part-time work, she quit her job sorting mail for the U.S. Postal Service and devoted herself to the business.

During the next seven years, the business grew but, due to overstaffing, was unsuccessful. "In 1995, I fired everybody and started over. I hated to do that, because I loved those people, but I was going bankrupt."

The new, lean FAST continued with the same client base, but with fewer expenses, and profits finally started to accumulate. The company has four employees, including Miller. And while she declined to give revenue figures, she said they have doubled since 1995.

Not surprisingly, the events of Sept. 11 hit her hard. All flights were grounded for almost a week. Then, when permission was granted to resume flying, many of her locations were off limits. She is proud that she was able to keep all of her workers on staff through the downturn, and that business has rebounded nicely.

'Go-cart with wings'

Finally, our schedules mesh and we meet at the Tampa Executive Airport for the flight.

Again, she leads with the Dramamine question. "I've got some if you need it," she says, but I decline her offer.

As we walk, she explains how the windsock works and reports that we have 15-knot crosswinds. "Not too bad."

We go inside and she rents a plane. She'd love to buy one so she could be more sure of the availability and airworthiness of the plane. Just the previous day, she says, the aircraft she was flying ran out of oil and she was forced to land in Crystal River (the city, not the body of water). She contacted the owner, who asked her to add some more oil and fly it back to St. Petersburg. Unsure of the leak's cause, she politely replied, "I don't think so," and rented a truck instead.

"It's a small plane," she announces as we step away from the counter. "Good thing this is a short flight." We walk out to the "go-cart with wings," as she calls it.

While she gives the plane a preflight check, I eye it suspiciously, remembering exactly why I'd turned down pilot training upon graduation from the Air Force Academy; I don't particularly like flying.

But here we go.

She was not kidding about the plane being small. We fold ourselves into the cockpit, which makes the smallest subcompact car seem expansive.

Sitting side by side, our outside shoulders press against the doors, which I hope are closed securely, and our inside shoulders rub together. A tall woman, she says that even with the seat all the way back, she cannot straighten her legs. "It's more comfortable to sit with my knees up by my chin," she says, then demonstrates the position.

At high noon, she fires up the Cessna and we taxi noisily to the runway. We'd planned to communicate via headset, but the extra one the airport loaned us doesn't work, so we have to shout over the drone of the engine and propeller.

After a final checkout and clearance from the controller, we lumber briefly down the runway and spring into the air.

Our job on this day is a 32-acre trapezoid of land in northeastern Pasco County. Instead of turning north during climb out, however, she banks in a southerly direction.

It is a beautiful, clear day. Downtown Tampa is easily recognizable, as is the white dome of St. Petersburg's Tropicana Field. To our right, the Gulf of Mexico stretches out to the hazy horizon.

Below lie farms, roads and subdivisions. "Do you know where we are?" Miller shouts. I'd gathered she was heading to our neighborhood. Sure enough, the terrain's features click into those of my mental map of Cheval. We circle our homes, breathtaking from 1,000 feet.

As I crane my neck to study the view as long as I can, we turn northward.

Time to go to work.

Miller reviews maps as we chug northward at about 100 knots. I'm able to pick out landmarks- highways, subdivisions, my daughter's school. Miller alternately glances at the maps and the landscape below, trying to match the two.

Point, click and fly

As we fly, I think of some of her previous comments about the lack of respect she gets as a female pilot. She speaks with the weary tone of one who would like to fight the situation, but knows it is futile: the overly protective, condescending attitudes male pilots display; the automatic assumption that, since she's a woman, she doesn't know how to fly; the use of "honey," "darling," and other terms when talking to her. With 3,000 hours of flight time, she could no doubt fly circles around many who utter them.

She has resigned herself to the fact that she's in a man's business, but she takes great pleasure when opportunity allows her to show them their folly. The parcel we are to shoot, (okay, she is to shoot), is nondescript grassland. So nondescript, it turns out, that she has to do a bit of circling to locate it.

She is trying to find a peculiar bend in a road she'd identified on a map. Finally, she spots the road and points the land out. The tract is bare except for a few stands of dark-green broccoli-stalk trees.

"I wonder what they want to build on this," she shouts.

"They didn't tell you?" I ask.

She shakes her head. Now that we are at the site, the fun begins. I'm relieved the headset is inoperative, as I doubt I'd be able to record her remarks.

Miller opens the flip-up window on her door. I recall her tales of losing a cellular phone out the window, as well as a vitally important notebook containing all her upcoming jobs.

"I turned back to look for that," she told me, "and thought, "there's a flock of white birds,' before realizing those birds were actually pages from my notebook."

She cuts the airspeed to about 75 knots and adjusts the trim so the plane's nose points upward, presumably to slow us and to get the wing strut out of the photo.

I helpfully retrieve the boxy Bronica camera from behind her seat, so she won't have to divert attention from the flying part of her job.

She banks to the left and concentrates on the tiny patch of earth below. After snapping a photo or two, she drops the nose, telling me she has to look around for other aircraft. I'm glad to hear this, and I search the skies myself. Then she points the plane upward again and aims the camera out the window. Just like that, it's over.

"Already?" I ask. We'd been on site about two minutes. She nods and I ask, "How many did you take? Six or eight?"

"Three," she cheerfully replies as she drops the nose, increases the air speed and heads for home. "That's all he paid for."

Talk about confident. I'd have taken 15 or 20, for safe measure. The return trip is quick and uneventful, the landing routine. "Darn! No crosswinds," she says as she taxis in 45 minutes after takeoff.

"I wanted to show off."

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