There’s a kind of American that doesn’t make the news much. Not because they’re rare, but because they go about their lives quietly, doing what needs to be done, serving when called upon, and standing by the people they love. Richard Speros was that kind of American. He held many titles, but to his fellow pilots and family, he was most affectionately known as Moose.
As our nation marks its 250th birthday, it’s worth pausing to remember men like Moose. Men who carried the weight of freedom on their shoulders without complaint, and who came home and kept right on working.
During Moose’s Celebration of Life, we saw firsthand what makes America unique. F-35’s roared overhead making four passes as the United States flag was being folded and gunshots rang out. I was reminded of just how great this nation is and what it is capable of. I was reminded that being an American is as much a blessing as it is a responsibility.
In the Sky
Moose flew the F-100 Super Sabre over Vietnam, one of the most demanding aircraft of the jet age. This was no easy task as he flew over 200 combat missions. Hundreds of times, he climbed into that cockpit, crossed into hostile skies, did what his country asked of him, and came home. The kind of courage that requires isn’t something most of us will ever fully understand but we can honor it.
He flew alongside a fellow pilot and lifelong friend, Joe Banks, who matched him mission for mission and mile for mile. They logged over 500 combat sorties between them. They were the kind of pair that a war produces, and a country is fortunate to have.
Both men were among the most decorated fighter pilots of that era. The medals matter. But what they represent matters more. It was a willingness to put yourself in harm’s way for the people flying with you and your brothers fighting below.
Most of my time knowing Moose, he rarely talked about the darker parts of his service. In his later years he began sharing the stories behind the medals. With tears in his eyes and a cracking voice, you quickly understood the weight he humbly carried for a lifetime. It wasn’t just about the soldiers he helped save but about the ones who came home in flag draped coffins. It was about the families that received the ominous knock at their door.
Moose, and many others, carried this quietly. When they are ready to share, we become the keepers.
More Than a Pilot
What made Moose remarkable wasn’t just what he did in the air. It was what he built on the ground.
After his service, Moose didn’t sit and wait for the country to repay him. He got to work. Moose didn’t come from much. Like many, he had humble beginnings but a desire to grow. He took his chance at the American Dream.
He carried the same discipline and drive that made him an exceptional combat pilot into civilian life, building a career and a family that reflected the values he’d always held: hard work, personal responsibility, loyalty, and a lot of jokes or good stories.
This year, the Speros family celebrates 50 years at Tiger Musky Resort on the great Chippewa Flowage near Hayward. If you’ve been fortunate enough to visit you know you’re greeted with a “Welcome Home” and “what can we do for you”. This family-run business, for 50 years and counting, is a legacy Moose and his wife Millie built. It serves as a pillar of Wisconsin’s culture and the American spirit.
It’s the entrepreneurial grit that has always defined the American heartland. Not the flashy kind you see celebrated online, but the quiet kind. The kind that shows up every day, earns what it gets, and leaves something behind worth having.
Moose had served plenty. He had a full plate with family and the business. But when service called again, he answered. In 1995, Governor Tommy Thompson sought the service and expertise of Moose, naming him the State’s first Secretary of Tourism. To this day, I still run into people who fondly remember working with Moose and appreciate his contribution to our state.
A Brotherhood
One of the less-told stories of America’s military families is the community they form with one another. The way service members, their spouses, and children draw together across bases and deployments, building bonds that substitute for the extended family left behind.
Moose and Joe Banks didn’t just share a profession. Their families moved together, supported each other through deployments, and stayed close long after the wars were over. The Speros children grew up understanding what sacrifice looked like. It was a presence in their daily lives, the empty chair at the dinner table, the mother holding things together on the home front, in the friendships their fathers kept for decades.
That community, resilient and built on shared sacrifice, is as American as anything you’ll find. It’s the same spirit that built the towns and churches and small businesses of Wisconsin and the Midwest. People leaning on each other. Doing the work. Keeping their word.
250 Years
This Fourth of July, as fireworks light up the skies over our towns in this state, our children will watch the sky in awe. Probably the same type of awe I felt as I watched those F-35’s streak the sky. The same skies that Moose and Joe once commanded.
Men like Moose didn’t fight for a political party. They fought for their country, for this beautiful idea. They stepped up believing that free people, working hard and standing together, can build something worth protecting. Two hundred and fifty years in, that idea is still alive. It still works. And it still depends on us to carry it forward.
Moose is gone now but his story belongs to us all. His family, this state, and a grateful nation are the keepers. We own the responsibility to carry forward another 250 years.
The story of Richard “Moose” Speros and Ret. LTC Joe Banks is being developed into a full narrative nonfiction account. Joe Banks, now 92, is one of the last living voices of this era of American air power.
