A surprising number of American skyjackers were not yet old

Brendan I. Koerner, in his study of turbulent times, revealed with almost tragic irony: “A surprising number of American skyjackers were not yet old enough to drink or sometimes even drive. These adolescents were generally inept at planning their crimes, and few of their capers met with any success; most seemed to end within moments of starting, usually after a fatherly pilot convinced the nervous teen to hand over his gun.” His words shine a strange light on a dark chapter of history, where youthful recklessness, misplaced desperation, and the allure of rebellion collided in the skies.

The meaning of this quote lies in the folly of youthful impetuousness. These adolescents, barely grown, sought glory, money, or escape through acts that demanded cunning and resolve they did not yet possess. Their hands held weapons, but their hearts quivered with inexperience. The image of a “fatherly pilot” soothing a trembling youth underscores the truth that often what these boys needed was not conquest, but guidance, compassion, and an authority to help them put down the burden they were too weak to carry.

The origin of these events rests in the turbulent decades of the 1960s and 1970s, when the skies of America were plagued by skyjackings. Airplanes, symbols of modernity and freedom, became stages for political protest, criminal misadventure, and youthful rebellion. Some sought to flee to Cuba; others dreamed of riches. But Koerner highlights a peculiar group—those too young to even lawfully drink, who thought themselves capable of commanding the air. Their failures remind us of the eternal gap between youthful ambition and the wisdom required to shape it.

The ancients, too, told tales of young men rushing into endeavors beyond their grasp. Think of Icarus, who strapped on wings of wax and flew too near the sun. His ambition outpaced his wisdom, and he fell into the sea. These teen skyjackers were modern Icaruses—reaching for the skies with trembling hands, only to be undone by their own lack of foresight. And yet, just as Daedalus mourned his son, so too do we see in Koerner’s words a tone of pity rather than condemnation. They were not hardened criminals but children, misdirected and misguided.

History also offers the story of Alexander the Great, who, though a youth, succeeded where others failed because he was guided by teachers like Aristotle and tempered by discipline. The contrast is striking: one youth flounders in impulsive crime, another reshapes empires. The difference lies not in age but in guidance, preparation, and vision. Where the skyjackers lacked mentors and purpose, Alexander possessed both, and so his youthful daring was transformed into legendary achievement.

The lesson is thus clear: raw ambition without wisdom collapses into ruin. Youth is powerful, but it is also fragile. To attempt great deeds without counsel, training, or understanding is to invite disaster. Yet when the same fire of youth is harnessed, directed, and tempered, it can change the course of history. Every young person must learn that strength is not found in reckless rebellion, but in patient growth and in listening to those who have walked the path before them.

Practical wisdom flows from this. If you are young and restless, eager to seize the world, remember: haste is not heroism. Seek mentors, learn discipline, test your courage in small ways before demanding great conquests. And if you are older, do not only condemn the rashness of the young. Be as the fatherly pilot—steady, patient, willing to guide trembling hands toward peace rather than destruction. In this way, folly can be transformed into growth, and wasted flights into lessons that lead to higher journeys.

So, children of tomorrow, take Brendan Koerner’s warning to heart: ambition untamed can bring you crashing down, but ambition guided by wisdom can lift you higher than you dream. Do not rush to command the skies before you have learned to stand firm upon the earth. And when you fly, let it be not with trembling hands and reckless hearts, but with purpose, courage, and wisdom. For it is not the gun that makes you strong, but the guidance that teaches you when to lay it down.