Category AVIATION &ТНЕ ROLE OF GOVERNMENT

The NextGen system is based on the concept known as Performance-Based Navigation (PBN). PBN is basically a system of aircraft movement that maximizes on board navigation capabilities and options while reducing ground-based control personnel and Navaids. PBN is based on two fundamental elements: Area Navigation (RNAV) and Required Navigation Performance (RNP).

RNAV as a general concept has been around for a long time. It was first implemented by using the Navaid system of VORs and other ground-based facilities now in place. Avion­ics onboard aircraft could “move” Navaids to any point in two-dimensional space, thus cre­ating “waypoints” which could be used to fly direct routes. It was also subsequently used with LORAN airborne receivers in a similar man­ner for direct route navigation. The new RNAV system proposed in PBN uses satellite-based navigation and is much more sophisticated than previous concepts of RNAV.

Required Navigation Performance is a set of standards or parameters by which depar­ture, en route, approach, and landing must be accomplished by aircraft in the National Air­space System, and which requires the aircraft and its equipment to meet those associated per­formance standards. RNP contemplates a “trajec­tory” profile that will maximize the performance characteristics of jet aircraft and allow immediate climb to altitude and delayed, continuous descent to landing instead of the “stair-step” procedures currently in use for both climb and descent.

ADS-B Out

RNP requires the use of a new technology called Automatic Dependent Surveillance-Broadcast (ADS-B). ADS-B is a replacement for tra­ditional radar-based surveillance of aircraft. Instead of using ground-based radar to inter­rogate aircraft and determine their positions, each aircraft will use Global Navigation Satel­lite System (GNSS) technology (GPS in the U. S.; Galileo in Europe) to find its own position and then automatically report it to ground sta­tions (FAA stations in the United States) and to other aircraft equipped to receive it. At the same time, it reports the aircraft’s speed, heading, alti­tude, and flight number. This function is called ADS-B Out.

The FAA has mandated that all aircraft must have the ADS-B Out equipment installed by 2020. It is surmised that this equipment capabil­ity will be needed in areas where transponders are now required.

ADS-B In

The function of an aircraft receiving the reported position of other aircraft is called ADS-B In. There is no requirement yet for the installation of ADS-B In capability, primarily because there has been no consensus that this technology has proven its value relative to its cost.

During the Chicago Conference the United States pressed its view that international civil aviation would be served by adoption of “Open Skies,” the concept of free flight over, to and from, and within the borders of the sovereign states repre­sented at the Conference. It should be noted that “countries,” in international treaty parlance, are known as “states,” and exclusively referred to in that way. Of all the countries represented, only the United States was in a position to do any such fly­ing. Known as the “Five Freedoms,” this concept is outlined in the following box.

The opposing view to Open Skies in 1944 was most forcefully stated by representatives of the United Kingdom. Britain believed that free and unlimited access by a foreign power to one’s country and its markets was premature. England had no significant number of transport aircraft with which to take advantage of the Open Skies concept. Given the physical and financial state of its war-torn country, it was realized that it might take some years to be in a position to compete with the United States on any kind of a level playing field. The proposed agreement that would implement the Five Freedoms, offi­cially known as the International Air Transport Agreement, informally referred to as the “Five Freedoms Agreement,” was not generally accept­able to the main body of representatives present at Chicago, and only 19 countries were willing to sign it. It was not, therefore, effective, and is even less so today as many of the original signa­tories have withdrawn from it.

The Transit Agreement

The second agreement entered into at Chicago is known as the International Air Services Transit Agreement, or “Two Freedoms Agreement.” This agreement embodies the first two freedoms, that is, overflight rights and landing rights for nontraffic reasons. Although signed by less than all conferees (100 nations had signed the “Transit Agreement” by 1992), this agreement became the basis upon which all future transit agreements would rest, and it established at least a minimum interactive relationship between the signatories. This agreement, therefore, may be considered to be one of the most significant results of the Chicago Conference.

Ш The Bermuda Agreement

While the United Kingdom was not amenable to a multilateral treaty arrangement granting access to its markets, it was realized that the relationship
between the United States and England was such that some sort of commercial aviation mutuality was in the interest of the United Kingdom. As the two most powerful leaders in the West to come out of World War II, the two governments agreed to have representatives meet in Bermuda in 1946 in an effort to reach an accord. The agreement that was reached was a compromise between the two positions previously articulated, and con­stituted the most important of the early bilateral (instead of multilateral) agreements to affect international civil aviation. The agreement essen­tially provided that

1. Fares and rates would have to be mutually acceptable to the two governments

2. Routes would have to be mutually agreed, and implicitly that there would be a quid pro quo for each route

3. Fifth Freedom rights (the carriage of traf­fic between two foreign countries without return to the home country) would be agreed on a case-by-case basis

The Bermuda Agreement became the model for future bilaterals between the United States and England and formed the model that would be used in other agreements between the United States and other foreign countries. Bilateral agreements have covered a variety of subject matters, including reciprocal recognition of pilot licenses, airworthiness standards for export air­craft, and radio communications.

The European Civil Aviation Conference (ECAC)

The European Civil Aviation Conference is an inde­pendent body of 42 Member States that is closely integrated with ICAO, as anticipated by Article 55 (a) of the Chicago Convention. ECAC was founded in 1955 at the behest of the fledgling European Council to be to the pan-European states what ICAO is to the entire world. As ECAC has matured over the period of one-half century, its functions have been expanded, and it has become the only Europe-wide organization with the membership and expertise capable of responding to the complex needs of the European air transport industry.

ECAC’s stated objectives include the pro­motion of continued development of a safe, effi­cient, and sustainable European air transport system that seeks to harmonize civil aviation pol­icies and practices among its member states and the major industrialized countries of the world. It has become the essential forum for discussions of every major civil aviation topic and regularly conducts seminars and international symposia on various issues. It concerns itself with the envi­ronment, noise, accident investigation, security, immigration, certification, airport policy, and land-use management.

ECAC works closely with the European Commission in aviation affairs and is funded by the European Council. The aviation safety responsibilities of ECAC are currently carried out by the Joint Aviation Authorities and by its successor organization, the European Aviation Safety Agency (EASA).

The cumbersome title, “The Treaty on the Prin­ciples Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, Includ­ing the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies,” is commonly called the Outer Space Treaty. This treaty is to space law what the Magna Carta is to English Common Law, and what the Treaty of Rome is to the European Union. It is the most inclusive and authoritative document for human governance in space, and it is the basis for all treaties that have come after it. It is modeled on the Antarctica Treaty, which was drafted for much the same reason in 1959, as was the Outer Space Treaty in 1967.

Like the Antarctica Treaty, it is a “no arma­ment” treaty. It seeks to prevent a new form of colonial competition in outer space. The treaty covers the entire outer space environment, including the moon and other celestial bodies. It entered into force on October 10, 1967.

The main provisions of the Outer Space Treaty provide:

• The use and exploration of outer space is to be carried out for the benefit of all.

• Outer space is not subject to national appro­priation by claim of sovereignty.18

• Activities in outer space are to be in accor­dance with international law.

• Outer space is to be free of nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction.

• Military bases and testing of weapons are forbidden, although military personnel may be used for scientific research and other peaceful purposes.

• Astronauts are envoys of mankind and shall be rendered all possible assistance in the event of accident, distress, or emergency landing on any state’s territory or on the high seas.

• States launching objects into outer space are liable for any damage caused.

• Launched objects shall remain the property of the state or party that launched it.

• Use and exploration of outer space is to be carried out without interference to other states, and a procedure for consultation between states is provided for this subject.

• States will inform all concerned, including the public, of intended space activities.

The treaty is broadly worded and, therefore, does not purport to provide definition on many issues. Implicit in the drafting is the expectation that other, more specific agreements would be crafted in the future to address specific concerns as needed.

The United States is a signatory to this treaty.

Ш The Rescue Treaty of 1968

The full title is “The Agreement on the Rescue of Astronauts, the Return of Astronauts, and the Return of Objects Launched into Outer Space.”

Its purpose is to give specificity to the provi­sions of the Outer Space Treaty that call for the rendering of aid to astronauts and the return of space crews and property launched into space.

The Rescue Treaty creates obligations on contracting parties, both as to crew and as to objects launched into space, who learn of any accident, unintended landing, or crew distress, to immediately:

• Notify the launching authority or make a public announcement, and notify the Secretary-General of the UN.

• Rescue crew and render assistance, even if on the high seas.

• Return the crew to the launching authority.

• Return the space object to the launching authority.

The words of the treaty express the senti­ment that astronauts are the “envoys of man­kind,” and that all nations shall have the attitude toward them that reflects the spirit of interna­tional cooperation and assistance.

The United States is a signatory to this treaty.

In 2004, President Bush announced a new space policy for the country termed “Vision for Space Exploration” which included a NASA initiative called the Constellation Program, centering on future human space flight. Its purpose was to give new direction to the American space pro­gram and regain public enthusiasm for space exploration. The new program set out an ambi­tious agenda:

• The International Space Station was to be completed by 2010.

• The Space Shuttle was to be retired by 2010.

• Replacement of the Space Shuttle, by a pro­gram called Orion (successor to the Crew Exploration Vehicle), was slated to be opera­tional by 2014.

• A new generation of reusable and partially reusable launch vehicles was to be devel­oped using some Space Shuttle technology, called Shuttle-Derived Launch Vehicles. These launchers included the Ares I, Ares IV, and the Ares V. The new concept was to use the Ares I for crew lift and the bigger, more expensive Ares V for cargo lift. These were to be the launchers for further moon exploration. (See Figure 41-12.)

* Renew moon exploration by launching robotic missions to the moon by 2008 (which never evolved) and crewed missions to the moon by 2020.

• Continue the exploration of Mars with robotic missions to be followed by crewed missions.

The Reality-2010

Although presidential candidate Barack Obama campaigned on a positive NASA plat­form, including human launches to the moon by 2020, the Obama White House has maintained no consistent position on space development. By 2010, the Constellation program had been canceled, except for a modified version of the Orion space vehicle. The Ares launch vehicle program had been converted into a “Shuttle – Derived Heavy Launch Vehicle,” effectively replacing the Ares V. It appears that the Inter­national Space Station is being approved for funding for an additional five years, through 2020—the ISS has been continuously manned since the year 2000.

The Obama White House also seems to favor the use of commercial launch vehicles and spacecraft as the basis for future U. S. civil space policy. This has brought many powerful Congressmen, who favor stronger government control in manned space flight, and important former astronauts, including Neil Armstrong, into conflict with the administration. Con­gress has provided no money for the COTS program in the NASA budget for 2013. The conflict is over whether there should remain funding for several of the top-ranked commer­cial launch and spacecraft upstarts (like Space X and Orbital Services) or whether a tried and proven commercial launch and services program (like Boeing, Lockheed, United Launch Alli­ances) should be funded alone. The argument against funding several companies in a competi­tive atmosphere is that there is no proven track record (other than the one-time Space X orbit rendezvous with the ISS in 2012), that it would be more costly to fund the competition, and the satellites and other payloads that must be put in orbit are so expensive that launch customers will be hesitant to trust upstarts. Many think that this is a short-sighted view since competition has been historically proven to provide creativity and innovation. It is also contrary to the con­cept of the NASA Centennial Challenges, to the spirit of the Commercial Space Launch Amend­ments, and to the history of pre-space flight innovation.

While the debate continues as to the coun­try’s future in space, American astronauts must be launched to the International Space Station aboard Russian Soyuz spacecraft, since the United States has no human space launch pro­gram. And we have the rather puzzling declara­tion by newly Obama-appointed NASA Chief Charles Bolden that he has been tasked by the White House with a new mission that has noth­ing to do with space. According to an interview given by Bolden to A1 Jazeera while in the Mid­dle East,35 his “foremost” mission as the head of American’s space exploration agency is to improve relations with the Muslim World.36 Spe­cifically, (Bolden said that Obama charged him with three specific assignments: “When I became the NASA administrator—or before I became the NASA administrator—he charged me with three things. One was he wanted me to help re-inspire children to want to get into science and math, he wanted me to expand our international relation­ships, and third, and perhaps foremost, he wanted me to find a way to reach out to the Muslim world and engage much more with dominantly Muslim nations to help them feel good about their historic contribution to science. . . and math and engineering.”).

At the same time, NASA is moving ahead in unmanned, robotic space exploration. In August 2012, a one-ton, four-wheeled vehicle was suc­cessfully landed on Mars. Known as the “Curi­osity Rover,” it is a full-fledged geochemical laboratory equipped with lasers, video cameras,
and measuring instruments, and it has the capa­bility of analyzing soil and air samples and then sending the results back to earth. Its main func­tion is to search for evidence of microbial life. “Curiosity” follows the much smaller and sim­pler Sojourner rover, which landed on Mars in the 1997 Pathfinder mission. “Curiosity” repre­sents the 40th mission to explore the Red Planet over the last 50 years.

There are also currently satellites orbiting the Sun, Mercury, the moon, the asteroid Vesta, Mars, and Saturn, which provide an on-going flow of information, as well as missions now en route to Jupiter and Pluto. Sixteen earth obser­vation satellites are currently studying various
systems of the earth, including climate, the oceans, and the Polar Regions.

His introduction to aeronautics occurred as a result of his engines. Thomas Scott Baldwin,
a former circus trapeze acrobat, had for some years been performing in balloons at country fairs across the country. Baldwin was thus in the perfect place to begin experimentations with motorized balloons when lightweight gasoline engines began to appear shortly after the turn of the century. After Alberto Santos-Dumont circled the Eiffel Tower in Paris in 1901 in one of the world’s first practical dirigibles, Baldwin visited him in France and returned resolved to build America’s first controllable airship.

While building his California Arrow at a ranch in California, a visitor showed up on one of Curtiss’ Hercules motorcycles. Baldwin knew at once that this was the engine needed for his dirigible. Although skeptical of the proposed use of his engine, Curtiss filled the order sent in by Baldwin, finally deciding that people could use his engines however they liked. Baldwin entered his dirigible in the competitions at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, where in October and November that year he was credited with the “first controlled dirigible flight” in the United States, and where his flights won first prize at the exposition. Baldwin was a world-wide sensation almost overnight.

Baldwin credited the Curtiss engine freely for his dirigible’s success in St. Louis. He then

and there determined to meet the developer of the magnificent engine, and without further ado, he hopped a train for Hammondsport and arrived there before Curtiss even knew of Bald­win’s feat using his engine. Baldwin’s visit to Hammondsport, where he was a houseguest of Curtiss, changed completely Curtiss’ atti­tude toward the use of his engines for aviation purposes. This marked the beginning of an aeronautical business association and friend­ship that would last for many years, and which brought Curtiss to a more intimate relationship with the flying community. Baldwin ultimately moved his operations to Hammondsport, where he continued building airships using Curtiss engines. In 1908, he sold to the Army Sig­nal Corps the very first aircraft of any type ever purchased by the U. S. government—an improved dirigible with a 20-horsepower Cur­tiss engine that passed Army trials (proving an endurance of two hours flight time and being steerable in any direction). Beginning with its first powered aircraft, designated the SC-1, the military operated an airship program for the next 34 years.

At the beginning of 1906, there was an air of expectation in the small but growing aeronautical community. Although the Wright brothers had allegedly flown, few people really believed it. The Wrights had certainly done nothing publicly to convince anyone of it and their patent for the “air­plane” would not be granted until May 22, 1906. This was a time when “dirigible balloons” were the only motorized aerial contrivances known to be capable of carrying a person aloft. Cur­tiss, therefore, continued to concentrate on the improvement of his gasoline engine and to develop its sales potential. This was the reason that he attended the New York City Auto Show in January that year, where the latest developments in the automotive and engine community were exhibited.

m Recently a man asked whether the business of flying ever could be regu­lated by rules and statutes. I doubt it. Not that flying men are lawless. No one realizes better than they the need for discipline. But they have learned discipline through constant contact with two of the oldest statutes in the universe—the iaw of gravity and the law of self-preservation. Ten feet off the ground these two laws supersede all others and there is little hope of their repeal, ff

Walter Hinson, 24 July 1926, Liberty Magazine

The exact timing of the decision by the Post Office to turn over the airmail delivery service to the private sector is lost in the mists of time. Dur­ing the period from 1918 to 1925, however, the Post Office did spend $17 million to operate the airmail service while realizing a return of about one-third that amount. And during the nine years that the Post Office Department carried airmail (1918-1927), 32 pilots—about one out of every six—were killed in the service.

The railroads also made it clear that they were opposed to any long-term government intrusion on their longstanding mail contract subsidies. In 1925, Postmaster Harry S. New, a former Congressman himself, worked with Con­gressman Clyde Kelly (who represented railroad interests) to formulate a legislative bill designed to put the airmail delivery service up for com­petitive bid.

Congress passed the Kelly Act (so-called after the name of the bill’s sponsor) on Febru­ary 2, 1925. The act was appropriately titled “An Act to Encourage Commercial Aviation and to

Authorize the Postmaster General to Contract for the Mail Service.” The statute called for the Postmaster General to seek competitive bids to operate the airmail feeder routes to the transcon­tinental main airmail trunk line between New York and San Francisco. The operation of the transcontinental trunk was to be initially retained by the Post Office service; it made its last flight on that route on September 9, 1927.

Advertisement for bids was published in the middle of 1925, and bids were received from 10 companies. Although eight routes were to be awarded, financial responsibility concerns caused the Post Office to delay assigning some of them until later.

Seven contract airmail (CAM) routes were awarded at the beginning of 1926:

1. CAM 1: Boston-New York, awarded to a group including Juan Trippe, later to found and operate Pan American Airways. Colo­nial Air Transport operated the airmail service.

2. CAM 2: Chicago-St. Louis, awarded to Robertson Aircraft Corp., a forerunner to American Airlines. Robertson hired Charles Lindbergh as chief pilot. (See Figure 12-4.)

3. CAM 3: Chicago-Dalias, awarded to National Air Transport, a forerunner of United Airlines.

4. CAM 4: Salt Lake City-Los Angeles, awarded to Western Air Express, a forerun­ner of TWA.

5. CAM 5: Elko, Nevada-Pasco, Washington, awarded to Varney Air Lines, a forerunner of United Airlines.

6. CAM 6: Detroit-Cleveland, awarded to Ford Air Transport.

7. CAM 7: Detroіt-Chicago, awarded to Ford Air Transport.

Ford was the first to begin service, on February 15, 1926, with the others following

within four months. The last to begin service was Colonial Airways on CAM 1. Subsequent awards that year were:

8. CAM 8: Los Angeles-Seattle, awarded to Pacific Air Transport, a forerunner of United Airlines.

9, CAM 9: Chicago-Minneapolis, awarded to Charles Dickenson. Northwest Airlines began operating the route in 1926.

10. CAM 10: Atlanta-Jacksonville, awarded to Florida Airways Corp, a forerunner of Eastern Air Lines.

11. CAM 11: Cleveland-Pittsburgh, awarded to Clifford Ball, later absorbed by United Airlines.

12. CAM 12: Pueblo, Colorado—Cheyenne, Wyoming, awarded to Western Air Express.

The aircraft available to serve the new air­mail companies were limited and unreliable. The Post Office had largely relied on the World War I British-designed DFI-4, but its Liberty engines were pretty much used up. Varney had to begin airmail service with the underpowered Swal­low biplane, and Western Air Express bought the Douglas M-2, all six of them. Ford had the

first of the Ford Trimotors (see Figures 12-5 and 12-6), producing 14 in 1926. Juan Trippe of Colonial Air Transport, impressed by Fokker’s monoplane design and its absence of wires and struts, ordered the first three Fokker Trimotors produced, but they would not be available until 1927. In 1928, Western Air added Fokkers for its Los Angeles-San Francisco passenger service.

One of the most advanced airplanes in 1926 was the Boeing 40, which had been designed around the Liberty engine. A joint study done by Boeing and Pratt & Whitney showed that a Wasp mounted on the Boeing 40 airframe would be able to carry a payload of 1,200 pounds as compared to 300-400 pounds using the Liberty engine. This was interesting information to have when the Post Office announced in the fall of 1926 that the Chicago-San Francisco airmail route was going up for bid (the eastern leg of the transcontinental route from New York to Chicago was awarded to National Air Transport).

The western route was challenging when viewed from any angle: the Rockies, the weather, the distance, and the fact that night flying was a requirement. Boeing had been flying the interna­tional airmail route between Seattle and Vancou­ver with seaplanes under contract with Canada and the United States since 1919, but that route
was basically flat and over tidal water. Another problem was that the U. S. Navy had dibs on the first 200 Wasps that P&W could produce.

Rentschler’s contacts once again proved fruitful. An agreement was made for Boeing to step ahead of the Navy for delivery of these engines, at the rate of five per month for a total of 25 Wasps. Thus, the Boeing 40 A, with a single Wasp mounted upfront, was bom and the fuselage revised to accommodate two passengers behind the firewall. Based on the results of the joint study, Boeing submitted a bid that was about one-third of that of any of its competitors.

Over protests of bad faith and “low-ball” bidding, Boeing began flying the Chicago-San Francisco route on July 1, 1927, and it made money in the process. This was only possible because of the Wasp, and it put private airmail carriage off to an excellent start.

« I’ve tried to make the men around me feel, as I do, that we embarked as pioneers upon a new science and industry in which our problems are so new and unusual that it behooves no one to dismiss any novel idea with the statement that “it can’t be done!” Our job is to keep everlasting at research and experimentation, to adapt our
laboratories to production as soon as possible, and to let no new improve­ment in flying and flying equipment pass us by. w

William E. Boeing, founder, The Boeing Company, 1929

Orders for the Wasp began to flood in from the commercial side as well as the military. Var­ney Airlines was the first to order the Boeing 40 A with the Wasp engine. The Wasp quickly began to replace the smaller Wright engines in the Trimotor Ford and Fokkers and practically every other large aircraft type. The Wasp was destined to reign supreme over its competition for several years before larger P&W and Wright engines became available. Soon the Boeing 40 В was designed with an enclosed four-place pas­senger compartment, with glass windows on each side, located between the Wasp/Hornet engine and the pilot in his open cockpit behind.

The 40 Bs set a completely new standard of reliability in the air. Proven reliability was an absolute necessity before transporting pas­sengers on any broad scale could be seriously considered. With the Liberty engine, making the long-distance run without an engine failure or forced landing was practically unknown. The Wasps began running 250 hours and more with­out adjustment of any kind or requiring overhaul.

These engines actually ended the long­standing superiority of European engine manu­facture that began before World War I and led to the establishment of American air supremacy for decades to come, well through World War II. They also laid the groundwork for the suc­cessful beginning of the commercial air transport business.

he process of creating an air transportation system had begun as an incidental consequence of privatizing the United States airmail delivery system. While a partial and rudimentary navigation infrastructure was in place, there was very little else on which to base a civil air transportation network. In 1925, it was difficult to imagine air travel ever overtaking the familiar modes of travel by sea or rail. Flying was not only still the province of adventurers, it was prohibitively expensive. About the only thing that would recommend travel by air was the element of speed, but this was more than offset by the dis­comfort of the associated noise, heat, cold, or tur­bulence, as well as the likelihood that mechanical failures would result in unscheduled landings, causing delays or, heaven forbid, even worse.

But aside from the optimistic efforts of the undaunted enthusiasts of aviation, there were national interests to be considered. In Europe subsidized national flag carriers were being formed, Imperial Airways in Britain in 1924, for instance, and there were rumors of Lufthansa in Germany (which did form in 1926). Other Euro­pean countries were forming airlines. There was criticism heard in the United States and recol­lections of how far behind Europe America had been before and during the First World War.

The United States had no civil aviation policy. President Calvin Coolidge, like most everybody else, had never been inside an airplane. But Coolidge was in a position to do something about it—he formed a commission to study what should be done. It was called the Morrow Board.

Coolidge and Dwight Morrow had been classmates at Amherst. Morrow had gone to Yale Law School and was in law practice in New York in 1925 when Coolidge asked him to head up a “blue-ribbon” committee to make a general inquiry into U. S. aviation. Coolidge biographer Robert Sobel characterized Coolidge’s style this way: “Find the right man, tell him what has to be done, then step aside.”1

Having such a man was particularly important since two related committees had preceded this one: (1) the Secretary of War had convened the Lassiter Board in 1923 to try to resolve competing interests of the Army and Navy regarding airpower and how it should be controlled, and (2) the House of Representatives had appointed the Lampert Committee in 1924 to look into allegations of malfeasance by the Chief of Air Service, General Mason Patrick, regarding budget cuts for military aviation and the policy of the Army that placed air units under control
of ground commanders. It was in the Lampert Commission hearing that General Billy Mitchell got in such hot water with his insubordinate statements about military aviation that President Coolidge ordered his court-martial. In short, the state of American aviation was in turmoil.

Now the Morrow Board was formed in September 1925 to look into the future of aviation in both the military and civilian aviation sectors. It was composed of a federal judge, an engineer on the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), several former military officers, and the World War I head of the Board of Aircraft Production. Morrow himself knew little about aviation, although he was a member of the Guggenheim Fund Board of Trustees (see below).

In 1938 it was the Big Four and then everybody else. Some of the smaller lines would fade away; others would prosper under the new law. When the Civil Aeronautics Act passed Congress, nota­bles among the small lines were Delta, North­west, Western Air Express, Braniff, National, and Continental. Much would be heard from them in the future. And then there was Pan American.

oeing had upgraded the 707 in 1959 with

the new J-75 engine. The DC-8 was flying. Big jets were flying long distances and setting records, and the public was fascinated. Govern­ments the world over were buying these jets and setting up their own airlines. Flying in jets was a prestigious activity.

The government of France had been eclipsed in the jet design and production market. Its avi­ation representatives took note of something that was not in production and not even on the drawing boards—a medium-range jet that could carry 60 passengers up to 1,200 miles. This was the airplane for the European market and, presciently, was to become the airplane for the deregulated market of the future. This was the Regional Jet.

In response to a government-sponsored competition, Sud Aviation in Toulouse, France came up with a novel idea in aircraft construc­tion. They placed the aircraft’s engines on the side of the fuselage near the tail of the aircraft instead of under the wings. They called this prototype the Caravelle (see Figure 21-1), a name given small sailing ships during the age of explo­ration. Production began, and in 1956 Air France contracted for the first twelve airliners to come off the line.

British European Airways, the government – owned airline, flew many of the same routes on the Continent using turboprops. Given the proven popularity of jets, already evident in the 1950s, Britain realized that it must build its own short – haul aircraft in order to compete. Its entry was the Hawker-Siddeley Trident, which incorporated the Caravelle aft-engine innovation but added a third engine housed within the vertical stabilizer and aft fuselage. The aircraft designers placed the horizontal stabilizer at the top of the vertical stabi­lizer, out of the way of the jet exhaust, an arrange­ment that provided more stability at low airspeeds.

Meanwhile, Boeing was testing the aft – engine concept with an aft-mounted engine attached to its 707 prototype, and it was ponder­ing the viability of such an aircraft in the domes­tic market. Douglas had designed the DC-9, with its aft-mounted engines, in response to a request by United Airlines, but no other carrier expressed interest, and the design was put on hold. The airlines specified an aircraft with two or three engines, for cost effectiveness, that could operate from shorter runways like LaGuardia. Boeing’s engineers were first to conclude that a three – engine airplane with a T-tail was the most likely airplane to succeed, borrowing from the Trident design, which had proven out in Boeing’s tests. They designated the new airplane the Boeing 727 and incorporated the new Pratt & Whitney JT8D turbofan, with up to 17,500 pounds of thrust, as the power plant. Turbofans evolved from turbo­jets as early as 1960, mainly in response to com­plaints about the noise produced by straight jets, both while in taxi and airborne. The JT8D was not only quieter, but it was also more economical to operate than any other engine at the time.

The 727 was an aesthetically pleasing air­plane. (See Figure 21-2.) It was said that build­ing the 727 would have been warranted even if it could not fly. It utilized the same basic fuse­lage as the 707 and incorporated a new flap design that, at slow airspeeds, increased the wing area by 25 percent; thereby greatly reducing

the aircraft stall speed. This reduction in speed enabled the 727 to operate from shorter runways, just as specified by the airlines.

The first production model of the 727 flew late in 1962 and immediately began to surpass its design criteria. It was faster, its fuel consumption was less, and its payload was greater. Short land­ing and takeoff was proven in operation, and its superb handling made it one of the most trusted and respected aircraft flying. Concerns arising from a series of four crashes occurring in 1965 were alleviated when it was determined that they were all caused by pilot error in allowing the air­plane to descend at a rate from which recovery was difficult. These accidents established that the 727, in spite of its easy handling characteristics, had to be flown by the numbers, like most jets. The performance of the 727 would go on to earn it a reputation as the most successful commercial transport aircraft in the history of aviation. By the early 1980s, Boeing had delivered or contracted to deliver almost 2,000 of the very unique airplanes.

After Douglas had placed its DC-9 plans on hold in the late 1950s, the emergence of the short-to-medium range aircraft market caused Douglas to dust off its DC-9 blueprints. In April 1961, Douglas announced that it would begin production of the DC-9. Although Douglas had no orders placed at the time of its announce­ment, within a month Delta disclosed its con­tract to purchase 15 of the new jets. Boeing did not respond to the DC-9 until 1965, the same year the first DC-9 went into service. (See Figure 21-3.) Then Boeing unveiled its plans for the 737. The 737 was not a sleek airplane, having a width equal to the 727 and 707 but not the length—it was shorter even than the DC-9. Lufthansa Airlines was instrumental in the design of the 737 because they were first to order the airplane, insisting that it carry 100 passengers, ten more than the DC-9. The 737 entered service in 1968. (See Figure 21-4.)

Sales of the 737 were initially depressed primarily because the Air Line Pilots Association (ALPA) took the position that ALPA crews

would not fly the 737 with only two flight crew members; demanding that a flight engineer be included in the cockpit. ALPA was play­ing catch-up from its earlier failure to require three-man crews in the DC-9. This requirement made the 737’s operating costs too high to be competitive, so the airlines largely rejected the airplane. ALPA abandoned its three-crew posi­tion in 1974, partly because of worldwide reces­sion based on the fuel crisis that year, and partly because of the untenable and obvious featherbed­ding aspects of its three-crew position. Airlines then started buying the 737.

For the first time, feeder airlines began to buy the short-to-medium range jets and to bring jet service to the hinterlands of America. Pied­mont, North Central Airlines, and Allegheny Air­lines were able to expand their service, and in the later years of regulation, beginning in the early 1970s, these airlines were able to secure routes to destinations previously unavailable to them. These jets made routes between small airports— like Tri-Cities, Tennessee to Chicago, or to Washington, D. C., or to New York—convenient and profitable. The feeder lines preferred one class service and gave the world a glimpse of the age of deregulation to come. But first, the jumbo jets had to fly.

efore Herbert Hoover was President, he was Secretary of Commerce in the Coolidge Administration. He was called on to testify before the Morrow Board in 1925. The Morrow Board had been created for the purpose of study­ing the state of aviation and recommending to the president an aviation policy for the nation. Avia­tion, as the newest form of commerce joining maritime and land-based transportation, naturally followed some of the paths previously estab­lished by the older forms. It was also recognized that the promotion of aviation was in the national interest, much the same as it had been acknowl­edged that the nation needed the Post Office, a merchant marine, and the railroads.

Secretary Hoover drew an almost complete parallel between the needs of the fledgling avia­tion industry and the government’s policy toward maritime commerce in the United States. He pointed out that government had accepted the responsibility of providing aids to navigation in the nation’s ports and waterways by establishing markers, buoys, and lighthouses, and by provid­ing surveys and geodetic charting. The govern­ment had provided land grants to the railroads in order to open up the West, in the name of the national interest. Roadways, too, were within the realm of government responsibility in part
to facilitate motor commerce. The analogy was complete. Aviation needed and deserved federal assistance and direction if it was to develop in an organized manner. Otherwise, a fragmented and chaotic system of air transportation could be expected.

Included within the analogy was the need for airports to serve the various cities of the country. In the 1920s airmail service was being provided to some cities but not to others, often based on the fact that no landing fields were available to receive the planes. Airports then were truly land­ing “fields,” sometimes referred to as “all-way air­fields” since landings and takeoff could be made in any direction. Runways were the exception. Notwithstanding the favorable national policy toward aviation, there was no authorization for the direct participation of the federal government in the construction of airports. Municipalities, counties, and state governments recognized that their participation in air commerce was going to be dependent, in large part, on their own financial contributions. The Air Commerce Act of 1926 authorized the Commerce Department to survey and rate airports, and by 1929 some 181 airports had been catalogued. Only half of the airports had some kind of “prepared” runway, ranging from an oil-treated surface to cinders and concrete. Major
cities, including Cleveland, Detroit, Buffalo, Milwaukee, Denver, and Boston, had fields acquired and improved with local money. Indeed, prior to World War II, most of the airports of the country were financed, developed, and operated by local or regional government, since no federal airport program had ever existed.

New York’s LaGuardia airport was a local project. It started out in 1929 as North Beach Airport and, when Mayor Fiorello La Guardia began his expansive program of municipal works during the 1930s, including the city’s famous bridges, tunnels, and highways, the airport was included. New York had been a central maritime port for over a century and had developed into a major transatlantic passenger seaport by the 1930s. Its piers, visibly surrounding the island of Manhattan, provided a gateway to the world. They also provided an aviation analogy for the advanced planners of New York.

LaGuardia airport was only eight miles from the center of Manhattan, and Pan American had built its Marine Terminal there. There was a concrete apron for the parking of the new DC-2s and DC-3s, and its runways were a mile long. La Guardia took advantage of a Depression era program known as the Works Progress Admin­istration (WPA—the name was changed to the Works Projects Administration in 1939), which was begun to provide work for the millions of unemployed men during the 1930s. At a time when practically all construction of any kind was stopped by the rigors of the Great Depression, and with commercial aviation just beginning to emerge as a new and viable transportation medium, federal monies expended through the WPA program greatly enhanced the progress of commercial aviation in the 1930s.

The Civil Aeronautics Act of 1938 lifted the ban on direct federal contributions for airports. One of the first cities to benefit was Washington, D. C., whose airport, Washington-Hoover Air­port, was described at the time by historian lohn R. M. Wilson: «Bordered on the east by Highway One, with its accompanying high-ten­sion electrical wires, and obstructed by a smokestack on one approach and a smoky dump nearby, the field was a masterpiece of inept siting. Incredibly, the airport was intersected by a busy thoroughfare, Military Road, which had guards posted to flag down traffic during takeoffs and landings. In spite of such hazards, Washington – Hoover had a perfect safety record— for the simple reason that whenever even a slight breeze was blowing, planes refused to land there.1»

By 1941, Washington National Airport had taken the place of Washington-Hoover, hav­ing been literally dredged up out of the swampy ground next to the Potomac. It immediately became the second busiest airport in the country.

Civil airport construction languished, how­ever, largely because of World War II. Dur­ing the war, the federal government had created many airfields for military use under a program known as Development of Landing Areas for National Defense, spending $3.25 billion. After the war, pursuant to the Surplus Property Act of 1944, about half of these bases were turned over to local and state governments. Still, airports of the size and quality for use by growing commer­cial aviation were few, and those few were abys­mal. As reported in Fortune in 1946:2

The half-dozen largest city airports handle millions of people a year. LaGuardia airport with 2,100,000 people, Washington with 757,000, Chicago with 1,300,000, and Los Angeles’ Lockheed Air Terminal with

760,0 give clear indication of the size of the new air traffic. By standards of the huge railroad terminals, such as New York’s Grand

Central, which handles 65 million people a year, a million passengers is not so much. But a million passengers jamming through one small room, such as Chicago’s filthy little air terminal, instantly creates a problem solvable only by a fresh start in new sur­roundings, by new design on functional lines.

Chicago is the worst; its airport is a slum. Chewing gum, orange peel, papers, and cigar butts strew the floor around the stacks of baggage. Porters can’t keep the floor clean if people are standing on it day and night. At almost all hours every tele­phone booth is filled, with people lined up outside; the dingy airport cafe is filled with standees. To rest the thousands there are exactly 28 broken-down seats. One must line up even for the rest rooms. The weary travel­ers sit or even lie on the floor. The drooping grandmothers, the crying babies, the continuous, raucous, unintelligible squawk of the loudspeaker, the constant push and jos­tle of new arrivals and new baggage tangling inextricably with their predecessors, make bus terminals look like luxury.

To say that the airports at San Francisco or Los Angeles are less squalid than Chicago is faint praise, for the difference is so slight that anyone passing hastily through would notice no real improvement. Almost all U. S. airports are utterly barren of things to do. The dirty little lunch counters are always choked with permanent sitters staring at their indi­gestible food; even a good cup of coffee is a thing unknown. The traveler consigned to hours of tedious waiting can only clear a spot on the floor and sit on his baggage and, while oversmoking, drearily contemplate his sins.