Category AVIATION &ТНЕ ROLE OF GOVERNMENT

esponsibility for aviation safety had been lodged in the Civil Aeronautics Authority (CAA) by virtue of the Civil Aeronautics Act of 1938, as amended in 1940. Over the course of the ensuing 20 years, aviation safety had dramatically improved, largely due to the reliability of aircraft and engines and the development of instruments and navigation aids. The skies were much more crowded in 1958 than they had been in 1938, no doubt; but progress had been made in refining the airway (navigation) structure since the days of the lighted (beacon) airways. Beginning in 1947, VHF Omni-directional Radio transmitters (VOR) were installed across the country. An aircraft with a VOR receiver could track inbound from any point, directly to the station, by means of visual refer­ence to the display shown in the onboard aircraft receiver. The direct routes between the VOR trans­mitters were established in 1950, designated as Victor airways, and were given numbers to distin­guish one from another. Instead of flying from city to city as previously, or from one low-frequency radio transmitter to another (the radio range navi­gation system), aircraft that were equipped with these high-frequency radio receivers flew these new routes as aerial highways.

For years the CAA had been authorized to fashion rules and regulations to promote aviation

safety and to thus establish standards for aircraft, engines, propellers, and mechanics, as well as for flight schools and the training of airmen. It was also charged with developing and administering the Air Traffic Control system (АТС), the system oper­ated by the federal government that regulated the movement of aircraft throughout the United States. Control of aircraft by АТС could range all the way from taxi to takeoff, departure and en route clear­ance, to arrival and landing clearance at destination. Most aircraft in the 1950s flew under Visual Flight Rules (VFR), which required little or no АТС control. Airline passenger operations, however, flew largely under Instrument Flight Rules (IFR), the procedure that was designed to ensure that an aircraft had airspace reserved specifically for it, so that no other airplane flying under IFR would occupy that same airspace. But it was not uncom­mon for airline traffic to also fly under visual flight rules, at least for part of the planned route of flight.

These regulations were known as Civil Aero­nautic Regulations (CARS) and were published in the Code of Federal Regulations. The CAA appears to have dutifully performed its administrative func­tion regarding such matters. It can be argued with the aid of hindsight, however, that there was a lack of long-range vision within the CAA during its first 20 years of existence, between 1938 and 1958.

For one thing, the CAA was buried within the Department of Commerce along with the agencies that dealt with highways, maritime issues, textiles, the census, and myriad other matters. To make things worse, its appropriations had been slashed following World War II. Voice communication between pilots and ground controllers using high frequency radio had only been completely imple­mented in 1955. CAA air traffic control centers, which exercised control over all IFR traffic within large geographical areas throughout the country, now had direct voice contact with most aircraft within their sectors, although in some remote areas of the country it was still necessary for aircraft to relay and receive communications with АТС through airline company channels, particularly in uncontrolled airspace. CAA controllers kept track of the location of each aircraft in the sector by means of position reports given by the pilots themselves. These position reports included time, altitude, last radio fix or location, next radio fix, and the estimated time of arrival at that fix. Posi­tion reporting was cumbersome and that system required extremely large blocks of airspace to be reserved for a single aircraft.

Radar, only recently invented (WWII), was slower to be adopted. Radar was first implemented by АТС only as an aid to making instrument approaches to airports during instrument or bad weather conditions. Gradually, as the number of large planes increased and began competing for the available airspace, it became more and more dif­ficult for the air traffic control center personnel to keep track of aircraft. Distance Measuring Equip­ment (DME), the system that allowed an airplane to determine its distance from an equipped navigation facility, was incorporated into the VOR (Victor) airways system beginning in 1951. Now an air­craft could not only determine its azimuth location (bearing) from the station, it also could determine its distance. DME was a big help in tracking air­craft in the “voice only” system but, even so, the control problem was becoming unmanageable.

In 1955 there were surveillance radars in place at 32 locations to service traffic arrival and depar­ture at airports, but there were no long-range radars to control en route traffic except in the mid-Atlantic region at Baltimore. Concerns were raised that АТС traffic congestion increased the likelihood of mid-air collision. Extension of long-range radars to provide positive radar control for en route traffic was discussed, but not implemented. Then, on June 30, 1956, a United Airlines DC-7 collided with a TWA Super Constellation over the Grand Canyon, in Arizona, killing 128 people. (See Figure 20-1.)

In order to take a closer look at this tragedy, some background regarding how АТС did things at the time is helpful. Commercial airline flights at the time were conducted under both IFR and VFR rules, at different times during the same flight. АТС provided aircraft separation only to aircraft flying under instrument flight rules, and then only to aircraft flying within “controlled” airspace. It is also important to note that the air­craft separation provided was only as to other IFR traffic, not aircraft flying under visual flight rules.

En route controlled airspace (as opposed to terminal airspace) was basically limited to Victor airways that crisscrossed the country. A disadvantage to the Victor airways system was that its zigzag courses often did not suit either favorable wind conditions or preferred airline routing. Airline operations were thus permitted on “direct” routes between points, but these operations were “off airways,” or in uncontrolled airspace, in which АТС did not provide either control or aircraft separation, even on IFR flight plans. Operations in uncontrolled airspace were therefore conducted under visual flight rules where flight crews were obligated to “see and avoid” all other aircraft traffic.

TWA 2 and United 718 both departed Los Angeles on IFR flight plans within minutes of each other. TWA 2 was assigned an altitude of 19,000 feet and United 718 was cleared to 21,000 feet. While still in controlled airspace at 19,000 feet, TWA 2 requested and was granted clearance to “1,000 on top,” which allowed it to climb to and maintain any altitude at least 1,000 feet above the general cloud layer. TWA 2 then climbed to 21,000 feet.

As the two flights neared the Grand Canyon, both aircraft were at 21,000 feet on converging courses. They were in uncontrolled airspace, in clear weather with only scattered buildups that could be circumnavigated. Both aircraft were

• Phoenix

FIGURE 20-1 Collision of United Airlines DC-7 and TWA Super Constellation, June 30, 1956.

flying under visual flight rules that required each to “see and avoid” each other, but somehow they did neither. While no definitive causation could be established, the crash investigation panel sug­gested that the towering cumulous might have obscured the aircraft from each other.

This accident caused the largest loss of life since the beginning of commercial aviation. It focused public attention on the increasingly crowded skies developing over America as com­mercial aviation grew. The addition of jets to the aircraft fleet, flying at almost twice the speed of the fastest piston aircraft, would only increase the hazard. Another problem was the mix of military aircraft with civilian aircraft in common airspace. Bomber and fighter jet aircraft operated under one set of rules run by the military, and civilian aircraft operated under a different set of rules administered by the CAA.

The civilian-military dichotomy of aircraft control soon produced a second midair catastrophe. On January 31, 1957, a Douglas Aircraft owned DC-7 and an Air Force F-89 collided near Sunland, California at 25,000 feet. The DC-7 had a crew of four who were onboard in connection with a test flight of the aircraft, with no passengers. The F-89 Scorpion, with a crew of two, was conducting an unrelated test flight. Near head-on closure at high
speed was deemed the probable cause. A par­ticularly regrettable and high profile aspect of this midair collision was the fact that aircraft debris fell onto the occupied school yard of Pacoima Junior High School, where hundreds of students happened to be engaged in athletic activities. Three boys were killed and some 71 children were injured.

The lack of uniformity and coordination in aircraft control between civilian and military authority was further highlighted by the midair collision of a United DC-7 with a U. S. Air Force F-100 on April 21, 1958 very near the Grand Can­yon. The F-100 was based at Nellis AFB and the DC-7 was en route from Los Angeles to New York at 21,000 feet when the collision occurred. Neither aircraft was aware of the presence of the other, and neither were their respective controlling authorities. On May 2, 1958, yet another midair occurred when a military jet trainer and a civilian airliner collided over Brunswick, Maryland. This time the death toll was 12. It was clear that something had to be done.

Although it had been apparent to many people in authority since the early 1950s that technological advances in aviation and the growth of commercial aviation had compromised the government’s func­tion to properly promote safety in commercial air travel, no consensus for remedial action formed until this series of midair collisions occurred. The
first action taken was the formation of the Air­ways Modernization Board (AMB) in 1957, which was really no more than a temporary fix to try to address the problem. The AMB had been created as a result of a Presidential report that warned of “a crisis in the making” as a result of the inability of the airspace management system to cope with the complex patterns of civil and military traffic ply­ing America’s skies. Seemingly fulfilling this dire prediction, the midair collision in 1958 occurred. Another temporary fix followed to combine rule making authority for control of all aircraft, military as well as civil, in the CAB in 1958.

The day after the Brunswick midair, the Federal Aviation Act draft legislation was intro­duced into both the Flouse and Senate chambers of Congress. The primary mover of the Act was Sena­tor Mike Monroney of Oklahoma, a frequent critic of existing aviation policy. President Eisenhower sent a special message to Congress soon after in which he referenced the “recent midair collision” and the “tragic losses of life,” and through which he asked for the establishment of a federal agency to consolidate the functions required to administer the needs of both civil and military aviation in the country. Congress finally acted.

The Federal Aviation Act of 1958 was signed into law by President Eisenhower on August 23, 1958. While the Act incorporated virtually all of the provisions of the Civil Aero­nautics Act of 1938 that related to economic reg­ulation (entry, rates, routes, mergers, interlocking directorates, and agreements among air carriers), its great impact was on safety. The CAA was abolished and in its place was created the Fed­eral Aviation Agency, which was organized as an independent agency answerable to Congress.

The Federal Aviation Agency was given authority to make long-range plans and to imple­ment such plans without interference from compet­ing government interests. All air safety research and development was consolidated and placed with the new agency; thus, the work of the Airways Mod­ernization Board, the Air Coordinating Committee, and the National Advisory Committee for Aeronau­tics (NACA) was assumed by the Federal Aviation Agency. Recall that an example of the work of

NACA includes the engine cowl research originally incorporated on the Boeing 247 and DC-1 back in the 1930s. Rule making was taken away from the CAB and placed in the new agency, as was the responsibility for recommendation regarding aviation legislation. This new rule-making authority included consolidation and unification of authority for rule making for control of all aircraft, both civil­ian and military, flying in United States airspace.

Jurisdiction over suspension or revocation of airmen certificates was removed from the CAB and placed in the Federal Aviation Agency; the CAB was then designated as an appeal board to review the Administrator’s certificate action with authority to reverse or modify the action taken by the agency against an airman. The CAB retained its responsi­bility for aircraft accident investigation as well as all aspects of economic regulation of the airlines.

In the fall of 1958, the first Federal Avia­tion Agency Administrator to be appointed was retired Air Force General Elwood R. “Pete” Quesada. (See Figure 20-2.) He stepped up enforcement procedures in the airlines, assessing fines and issuing suspensions for rules violations. He led the way for the adoption of military-style radar for control of civilian aircraft. His tenure with the Federal Aviation Agency was marked by stormy relations with the airlines and its pilots, as well as with general aviation, but it set the country on a course of placing safety first for the flying public, a priority constant to this day.

The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) was created by the Department of Transportation Act of 1966 as an agency within DOT. The general responsibilities given to NTSB were to investigate transportation acci­dents, to determine the “probable cause” of the accident, and to make recommendations based on its findings designed to assist in preventing similar accidents in the future (see page 205 for list of primary responsibilities). The range of transportation modes subject to the scrutiny of the NTSB was commensurate with the DOT itself, that is, railroad, highway, aviation, marine, and pipeline. It was assigned the addi­tional role of acting as a review board for air­man appeals from certificate actions or penalty assessments by the FAA.

In 1974, the NTSB was removed from the DOT and established as an independent agency answerable to Congress pursuant to the pro­visions of the Independent Safety Board Act. This action was taken by Congress because it was determined that, given its unique role in investigation and recommendation, the agency should be completely independent of other agen­cies and departments to ensure that it could be direct, impartial, and uninfluenced in making assessments of fault and recommendations for changes.

The agency is headquartered in Washing­ton, D. C., and maintains 10 field offices nation­wide and a training center in Ashburn, Virginia, in suburban Washington, D. C. In recent years, the agency has shrunk in size. In 2003, NTSB had 438 full-time employees compared with 386 in September 2006. During the same period, the number of full-time investigators and tech­nical staff decreased from 234 to 203. (See Figure 22-2,) NTSB’s modal offices vary in size in relation to the number of investigators; as of September 2006, the aviation office had 102 investigators and technical staff; the rail, pipe­line, and hazardous materials office had 31; the highway office had 22; and the marine office had 12 employees. An additional 36 technical staff worked in the Office of Research and Engi­neering, which provides technical, laboratory, analytical, and engineering support for the modal investigation offices. For example, it is respon­sible for interpreting data recorders, creating acci­dent computer simulations, and publishing general safety studies.

The investigative role now performed by the NTSB dates back to the Air Commerce Act

of 1926 when Congress gave the Department of Commerce responsibility for investigation of air crashes. An Aeronautics Branch of the Com­merce Department was created to carry out this responsibility and it did so until renamed the Bureau of Air Commerce in 1934. In 1938, the CAB took over the investigative role and per­formed this duty until the creation of the NTSB in 1966.

To facilitate its investigative and reporting responsibility, Part 830 of the FARs requires aircraft operators to provide notification to the NTSB of certain accidents and incidents, and in certain cases to follow up such notice by required reports. This notification and reporting regimen is important to the role of the NTSB in staying current with problem areas in aviation safety.

The role of the NTSB was extended to the investigation of nonmilitary public aircraft acci­dents under the provisions of the Independent

FIGURE 22-3 Number of accident investigations completed by NTSB by mode, fiscal years 2002-2005.

Source: GAO analysis of NTSB data.

Safety Board Act of 1994. Public aircraft, gen­erally those aircraft owned or operated by vari­ous federal government agencies, were excluded from compliance with the airworthiness and maintenance requirements of the FARs by the

Key laws, regulations,

and policies Investigation policy

Aviation 49 U. S.C, 1131 (a)(1)(A)

49 C. F.R. part 800

International Civil Aviation Organization annex 13

49 U. S.C. 1131(a)(1)(E); 1131(b)

49 C. F.R. part 850

U. S. Coast Guard/NTSB memorandum of under­standing from 9/12/2002

49 U. S.C. 1116(b)(5)

Investigates or causes to be investigated all civil and certain public aircraft accidents in the United States and participates in the investigation of international accidents where the United States is the state of registry, operator, designer, or manufacturer. Investigates selected accidents including railroad grade crossing accidents, which NTSB selects in cooperation with a state.

Investigates selected major accidents and incidents, collisions involving public vessels with any nonpublic vessel, accidents involving significant safety issues related to Coast Guard safety functions, and interna­tional accidents within the territorial seas and where the United States is the state of registry. Major marine accidents are defined as a casualty that results in (1) the loss of six or more lives; (2) the loss of a mechani­cally propelled vessel of 100 or more gross tons; (3) property damage initially estimated as $500,000 or more; or (4) serious threat, as determined by the Commandant of the Coast Guard and concurred with by the Chairman of NTSB, to life, property, or the envi­ronment by hazardous materials.

Investigates railroad accidents involving a fatality, substantial property damage, or a passenger train.

Investigates pipeline accidents in which there is a fatality, substantial property damage, or significant injury to the environment.

Investigates releases of hazardous materials in any mode that involves a fatality, substantial property damage, or significant injury to the environment. For all modes, NTSB also evaluates the adequacy of safeguards and procedures for the transportation of hazardous materials and the performance of other departments, agencies, and instrumentalities of the government responsible for the safe transportation of that material.

Investigates selected accidents that are cata­strophic or of a recurring nature.

FIGURE 22-4 Key laws, regulations, and NTSB policies for investigations by mode.

Source: GAO summary of law, regulations, and policies.

Federal Aviation Act of 1958. In 1993, the Gov­ernor of South Dakota, George S. Mickelson, was killed in the crash of a government aircraft in which he was a passenger. In the wake of the investigation into that accident, Congress rewrote the law to bring most nonmilitary government – owned or operated aircraft within the authority of the FAA and the NTSB.

In 1996, Congress further charged the NTSB, pursuant to the provisions of the Aviation Disaster Family Assistance Act, with the task of coordinating all federal assistance to survivors and families of victims of catastrophic transpor­tation accidents. The NTSB strategic plan devel­oped as a result of this mandate ensures that such people receive timely assistance from the carrier involved, and from all government agencies and community service organizations included in the program.

The primary functions of the NTSB are out­lined in the box shown on this page.

It should be noted that the NTSB has no authority over any other federal agency or any industry group. It has no regulatory or enforce­ment powers. Its effectiveness is enhanced by its resultant impartiality. The NTSB operates with a very small staff, historically fewer than 400 employees. Since 1967, the NTSB has investi­gated over 114,000 aviation accidents and issued more than 11,600 safety recommendations in all transportation modes. More than 80 percent of its safety recommendations have been adopted by those empowered to effect changes in the transportation system and in government agen­cies. At a cost of less than $.24 annually per citizen, it is said to be one of the best bargains in government.

Endnotes

1. In 2001, responsibility for aviation security was transferred from the FAA to the Transportation Security Administration (TSA).

2. See FAA Order 8020.11c and preceding orders that pro­vide direction and guidance to inspectors performing acci­dent investigations.

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.