Category From props to jets

hroughout the Industrial Revolution in America, bold, farsighted men carved out a country that flourished beyond their wildest expectations. Midway into the period of American exceptionalism, the fledgling airline industry required, and acquired, men such as those who preceded them: huge dream­ers, bold and decisive leaders, the inspirational cre­ators of an entirely new system of transportation. These were the men who didn’t just lead but “became” their own airline companies, and by doing so, gave the world wings. Below are three of many; perhaps the three most influential airline presidents who shepherded into the modern era the airlines they so proudly ran.

W. A. "Pat" Patterson, United

Plucked from Wells Fargo Bank, after being the loan officer in charge of the Pacific Air Transport (PAT) account, William A. “Pat” Patterson was hired by Boeing Air Transport after it bought PAT in 1929. He was placed in the company as general manager under its president at that time, Philip Johnson. Soon thereafter, the presidency became his. Patterson’s tenure at what became United Airlines lasted some 32 years, and at the time of his retirement, United Air Lines was the largest airline in the free world.

Pat Patterson ran United as a very hands-on man­ager, usually spending one third of his year traveling the routes of the airline so as to keep an eye on its functioning and to meet the employees. He was a leg­end when it came to remembering names. His admin­istration was one of shared commitment, and he stressed five rules to utilize in everyday airline work life. They were (in order of importance) safety, pas­senger comfort, dependability, honesty, and sincerity.

Perhaps the biggest early decision Patterson made was in response to the San Francisco Traffic Manager’s suggestion that the airline utilize nurses onboard the airplanes in order to care for the needs of the passengers. Eight young women were hired and became the world’s first professional stewardesses.

Under his watchful eye, other firsts at United included: the first airborne kitchen for inflight meals; the first nighttime scheduled services for coast-to – coast and long-distance routes; and two-way radio communications. This last point also bears on the fact that United had a radio laboratory that also investi­gated other aspects of advancing flight and aerial nav-

igation. Additionally, United had a lead role in creat­ing special airfare promotions like taking your wife along for free on your business trip, and men only “executive” service (see Chapter 8 sidebar, “United’s Magnificent Caravelle,” page 122). United also helped refine and then launch the Douglas DC-8 Jetliner.

C. R. Smith, American

Another financial whiz kid, Cyrus Rowlett Smith, or Mr. C. R., or just “C. R.,” was an imposing figure of a man, standing just over six-foot-one-inch tall. A compassionate yet sometimes gruff manager, Smith got things done at American, even though he originally had no interest in running an airline. Once

selected for the job of running Texas Air Transport, he threw himself into the occupation, going so far as to get his pilot’s license. Once in charge of the entire amalgamated airline after 1934, C. R. made aviation history time and again through American Airlines. He was president from 1934 until 1968.

C. R. was what we call today a workaholic man­ager, always flying the line and tweaking American’s service and its business. He usually flew anonymously, and on standby at that, with a similar penchant as Patterson for remembering employees names and family details. It wasn’t surprising to see a short letter from C. R. noting a good, or bad, occasion. It was a small aviation world back then.

One indicator of his bravura was the launching of the national ad campaign boldly asking if the average person was afraid to fly. This was the unspoken real­ity of commercial aviation in the 1920s and 1930s, and C. R. brought it into the open and pointed out that American’s number-one priority was safe transporta­tion in the air. By the end of the 1930s, American was carrying one third of all U. S. airline passengers.

Pioneering “firsts” in the airline industry under C. R. included: first national campaign to sell seats; first credit purchase program; first passenger lounges (Admirals’ Clubs); first airline service into LaGuardia Airport (thus assuring American’s overwhelming presence), first transcontinental jet service; first stew­ardess college; and the first airline to carry one million passengers during a year (1937). American also helped pioneer the VOR (Visual Omni Range) system of navigation, today’s staple. It caused the launch of many significant airliners including the Convair 240 and 990; the Lockheed Electra (see Chapter 4); and the Douglas DC-6, DC-7, and DC-10.

As impressive as these achievements may have been, perhaps the most significant action ever taken by C. R. Smith was his insistence, during a marathon two-hour phone call, that Don Douglas build a larger DC-2 derivative called the Douglas Sleeper Transport, which became better known as the DC-3. From that point on, the world of transport aviation was never the same, and by 1936, airlines were finally showing a profit carrying only passengers, and not having to depend on U. S. Mail contracts.

After what must have seemed like badgering by Americans indomitable C. R. Smith, Douglas finally relented after reviewing operating cost benefits, and designed and built the DC-7. Adding another 40 inches to the DC-6B fuselage, the DC-7 really was not a com­pletely new airplane. Much of the aircrafts structure and internal systems closely matched the DC-6B, which had tremendous advantages in terms of crew familiarity and training. However, with the addition of the R-3350 Turbo Compound engines, the airplane had 20-percent more power available than the R-2800- equipped DC-6B, and yet fuel consumption remained the same. More passengers per flight now meant that all these new features gave the airlines a nice, theoretical improvement in their bottom line.

The DC-7s entered revenue service on November 12, 1953. This latest Douglas airliner was also a fast airplane, eclipsing the Connie’s cruise speed by some 30-plus mph. Its faster speed was critical in making the FAA flight-time requirement of less than eight sched­uled hours for the flight crew, and after only a few short weeks of being the transcon champ, TWA’s dominance fell to American Airlines.

From a “what’s new” standpoint, the DC-7 series introduced the use of titanium in commercial airliners.

Cockpit of the DC-7 shows a well-laid-out instrument panel and control pedestal with the throttles, radio consoles, and trim wheel readily at hand. Flight Engineer’s seat is facing forward in this photo giv­ing him access to the con­trol pedestal and the overhead panel controlling the aircraft’s many onboard systems. Radio rack at left provided easy access for avionics maintenance per­sonnel who may have had to change an entire radio unit or repair one of the many vacuum tubes con­tained therein. (Mike Machat Collection)

The landing gear doors were milled from this exotic and lightweight metal, thus reducing their weight by some 44 percent. Also novel on the aircraft was the engine­cooling ducting, which operated alternately during icing conditions. One other innovative feature of this fast airplane was the ability to place only its main land­ing gear in a down-and-locked position during rapid descents, thereby acting as speed brakes. We can only wonder how many false reports of ccfailed nose gear extension” observant pilots of other aircraft called in to the tower!

As we look back on the 1953 to 1954 period it seems as if Douglas had finally wrestled the fleeting lead from Lockheed in providing the next level of air service to the airlines and the public. However, as we all know, competition in the airline and airframe business can oftentimes be quite cutthroat, and can change dramati­cally at a moment’s notice.

By Jon Proctor

s with the Lockheed Electra, early 707 opera­tions utilized boarding steps rather than jet – ways—those covered bridges that are today’s norm. Using this conventional form of embarking on one’s first jet flight, unless the weather was bad, provided an exciting preview. You could not help but be awestruck by the sheer size of this new behemoth.

The use of separate aircraft doors for first-class and coach passengers was a short-lived phenomenon, done away with when space constraints dictated nose-in parking and single-point boarding. Status – minded customers soon learned that you could board through the first-class entryway by waiting until the last minute because the aft coach door was closed first, in order to facilitate engine start-up.

As a teenager, my only thought was to board my first jet flight as soon as possible, on a TWA 707, from Chicago to Los Angeles in September 1959. Thanks to the generosity of my brother, I had the extra $7 to pur­chase a “jet surcharge” coupon necessary to upgrade from a Super-G Constellation flight, and was eager to find a good seat. On early jet flights, coach seat assign­ments were not available on “through” trips, and TWA Flight 29 had originated in Pittsburgh.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the air condi­tioning seemed better on this jet than on an older DC-7, as the cool air hit my face as soon as I entered the airplane. Walking forward toward seat 18A, I immedi­ately noticed the PSUs, or passenger service units, that hung from the open, overhead racks. Each unit con­tained a “Fasten Seat Belt” and “No Smoking” sign,

three air vents, individual reading lights, and a small speaker to pipe boarding music through the cabin. There was plenty of legroom on this airplane, even in coach. Each row enjoyed two of the smaller windows, and the seats were deep and comfortable.

Instead of plug-in tray tables, each seatback included a drop-down tray. The traditional propliner window curtains were replaced by window shades that could be pulled up or down. Side lighting came from a panel that ran the length of the cabin on either side, just above the windows. In the ceiling above the aisle were circular fixtures that seemed to serve no purpose on this daylight flight. Later, I learned that these “domes” contained lighting that could be adjusted from “bright” to “night,” and were designed to replicate portholes in the aircraft ceiling. The night setting fea­tured pinholes of light against a dark background, giv­ing the impression of a planetarium filled with stars.

The air conditioning produced a constant hum as boarding was completed. Together with the airplane’s soundproofing it was sufficient to mask any engine noise, and I suddenly became aware that the airplane was moving, backward. It was my first time experi­encing pushback from a gate with a tug attached to the nose gear. The first hint of engine noise came as we taxied away from the gate to the runway.

The 707 seemed to taxi as a stable platform, rather than the subtle bouncing I remembered from
piston-powered airliners; it moved rock-solid as we taxied along. Although there was no prop-era engine run-up, the Boeing was eased onto the runway, aligned for takeoff, and then stopped. Now the engine noise level rose to a rumble, gaining power. Finally, the brakes were released and we slowly lum­bered down the runway, gradually increasing speed. After what seemed like an eternity, the front of the cabin rose and our jet broke ground with a bit of a thump as the main landing gear rotated before retracting into the fuselage. The engine noise sub­sided a bit, no longer bouncing off the tarmac, as the ground fell away.

“Yankee Pot Roast,” served for lunch, was the first truly hot meal I could remember on an air­plane, with an accompanying beverage in a real glass. There were no carts in the aisles to block access to the three aft lavatories that featured flush toilets, another first.

The aft cabin noise level could not truly be described as quiet but in marked contrast to a pro­pliner it was all but vibration free. Less than four hours later, TWA Flight 29 landed at Los Angeles International Airport, more than two hours sooner than I would have arrived on the Super-G Constellation on which I had originally booked space. But the thrill of an early jet came at a price. I never did get to fly on a Super-G.

This work by famed artist Ren Wicks depicts the dome lighting of TWA’s 707s, designed to look like portholes in the aircraft ceiling. At night, pinholes of light against a dark background gave the impression of a night sky filled with a galaxy of stars. (TWA/Jon Proctor Collection)

The unique 707-200 series, built at the request of Braniff International, combined the Model 100 fuselage with more-powerful JT4A-3 engines used by the -300 model. Only five examples were built, including one that was lost in a pre-delivery demonstration and acceptance flight accident. (Boeing/Jon Proctor Collection)

The first 707-138 for Qantas sits on the ramp at Boeing’s Renton plant shortly after rollout. Boeing engineers removed 10 feet from the 707-120 fuselage design, aft of the wing, to bring about the "short-body" 707-138; Qantas was the only customer. In the background new 707 jets for TWA, American, and Continental receive finish­ing touches before their first flights. (Qantas)

certificate, nor did it attract additional customers. Qantas placed the type into service on July 29, 1959, on the multi-stop route between Sydney and San Francisco.

Boeing’s intercontinental 707-320 was first deliv­ered to launch customer Pan Am in July 1959, and was specifically engineered for transoceanic flights with increased passenger and cargo capacity. Its fuselage was stretched 8 feet 5 inches, bringing the maximum passen­ger load to 189. A 21,200-gallon boost in fuel capacity came from a center fuselage tank and additional tankage in the wings, increasing the -320’s range to 4,360 miles.

The -320 wing also featured an enlarge planform with a 12-foot increase in span, a new leading-edge airfoil at the wing root, and increased area of the inboard trailing – edge flaps as well. The same JT4A-3 engine assigned to the 707-200 powered the intercontinental version, and a total of 69 were built for Air France, Pan Am, Sabena, and TWA.

An otherwise carbon copy of the -320, the 707-420, was equipped with Rolls-Royce Conway 50B bypass engines. A total of 37 were sold to eight overseas carri­ers, the first being, quite appropriately, BOAC.

The DC-8’s cockpit was much roomier and offered much greater outward visibility than that of its piston-powered pre­decessors. Flight Engineer’s station is visible to the right with an observer’s jump seat at extreme left. Note move – able sunshades mounted on a circular track to ensure place­ment anywhere they were needed, a unique Douglas feature. Emergency quick – donning oxygen masks seen hanging next to each seat were a new addition for the flight crew. (Mike Machat Collection)

Douglas DC-8-10/20/30/40

Trailing the 707’s entry into service by nearly a year, the first Douglas DC-8 was delivered to launch cus­tomer United Air Lines on June 3, 1959. Powered by the same Pratt & Whitney JT3C-6 engines mounted on Boeing’s 707-120, the DC-8-10 featured a heavier, 265,000-pound maximum takeoff weight and a substan­tially greater range of up to 3,900 miles. At just over 146 feet in length, it was 2 feet longer than the 707-120, with a maximum density listed at 176 passengers.

Delta Air Lines accepted its first DC-8-10 on July
21 and wasted no time showing it off to the public; a day later it set a 1-hour 21-minute speed record between Miami and Atlanta. A second DC-8 was accepted on September 14.

Both carriers began DC-8 revenue flights on September 18, 1959, with Delta beating United into actual service entry by virtue of their time zones. Its Flight 823 departed for Atlanta from New York-Idlewild at 9:20 AM Eastern time, while United’s Flight 800 left San Francisco at 8:30 AM for New York, but in the Pacific time zone.

grew up in an airline family. My father was a pio­neering airmail pilot, taking advantage of his World War I flight training to secure a job with the then-new Colonial Western Airways, which eventually melded with what we know today as American Airlines. As a young lad riding on passes with my family, I remember the look on ticket agents’ faces as they noted Dad’s pay­roll number: 02.

I absolutely owe my love of the industry to him, along with my desire to write; Dad had a great way with words and wrote stories for several publications. I recently discovered the first two chapters of a book he was planning to author but never finished. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to sit down with him today and fill in the missing holes.

To a greater degree, my brother Bill, a retired TWA pilot, and his wife Ann, get most of the credit for encouraging me to pursue my own airline career. Bill loaned me aviation books, paid the extra ajet surcharge” so I could take my first ride in a Boeing 707, and has provided so much support and answers to my endless questions. Many thanks go to him, my best friend.

Although Robert Serling refers to me as his mentor and role model, it really has been the other way around. Bob is a true inspiration to all aviation writers, and always finds time to take my calls and provide sage advice. He readily shares a wealth of knowledge and can be counted on for straightforward responses when act­ing as a sounding board for my book and story ideas. But above all, he is a treasured friend.

In addition to Bob, I was fortunate enough to meet three of my biggest aviation heroes who are no longer with us: Jimmy Doolittle, C. R. Smith, and Paul Tibbets. Close friendships formed with people in the airline industry are too many to list here, but each has been an inspiration, adding to a wonderful career in aviation.

Finally, special thanks are offered to the co-authors I am so lucky to have as great personal friends.

— Jon Proctor

s with any labor of love, there are many people who helped along the way, and without whom, a project such as this simply would not have been possi­ble. Starting with the “big picture,” my thanks to Donald Wills Douglas for all his great airliners, and to my father for cherished memories of a flight aboard an Eastern DC-7B Golden Falcon, which planted the seed. Coming West from New York to California to work as a young artist for the proud company Mr. Douglas founded was nothing less than the fulfillment of a life­long dream.

I also would not have had the career I enjoy today without the inspiration of my uncle, George Hildebrand. His 32-year career as a chief engineer and program manager with Republic Aviation Corporation served as the ultimate source for my insatiable desire to become part of America’s burgeoning aerospace indus­try. As a proud designer of military jet fighters, he held airliners in a different regard, but gained new and heart­felt respect for commercial aviation when my budding career at Douglas began to emulate his own.

The man to whom I owe a large debt of gratitude for connecting me with the literary world is R. E.G. Davies, former Curator of Air Transport for the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, and one­time member of the marketing analysis team at McDonnell Douglas in Long Beach. Ron and I have worked together on 15 airline history books, and he has written many of the definitive reference works on the history of the world’s airline industry. Ironically, many of Davies’ books served as invaluable and ironclad ref­erence sources for this project.

My admiration, respect, and thanks to John Wegg, world’s foremost authority on the magnificent Sud Caravelle, for years of collaboration on many inspira­tional projects together, and for setting the gold stan­dard in modern airline writing. The late Terry Waddington showed me how pure passion for a prod­uct and deep love for the airline industry translated into impressive sales of McDonnell Douglas jetliners. Special thanks to Tony Landis, Dennis Jenkins, and Joshua Stoff. Finally, to my two cohorts, Jon Proctor and Craig Kodera, go heartfelt appreciation for a col­laborative effort on this project that has exceeded expectations. I am most grateful to have aviation friends of this caliber.

— Mike Machat

ver the years I have had the uncommon privilege of being associated with the world of aviation and, in particular, that of commercial aviation. My uncle Harry Botterud was maintenance supervisor for Los Angeles Airways in the 1950s; my father spent a lifelong career in the aerospace industry, the last half of which was at Douglas Aircraft in the Commercial Division at Long Beach. I managed to work at Douglas myself after college and prior to joining the Air Force Reserve, thanks to Dad.

Our neighborhood was filled with airline pilots, one of whom was Gary Ferguson of Continental, who bought me my first instructional ride in a Cessna 150 at Meadowlark Airport in Huntington Beach. This led to my licensure to fly airplanes at age 17. My mentor and guide into the life of aviation, Bob Brandt of L. A. Airways (1960s version), introduced me to his old flying buddy, Scott Bergey, who was late of Air California.

Thanks to these two men, I managed to find myself fly­ing at Air Cal, later to be merged with American Airlines, thus fulfilling my long-hoped-for childhood dream. Nine thousand hours of flying time later, here we are.

Meadowlark has since been turned into homes. Douglas is now Boeing, and both Dad and Gary Ferguson have flown west. I no longer inhabit the cock­pit of an airplane, but to have witnessed what I have in my lifetime… the grandeur of proud people crafting entire industries for the betterment of all on this planet, and the momentous positive change among its peoples, I am fortunate. To be able to now write about what I have known all my life makes me humble. So my thanks extend to you, our special readers.

And most significantly, thanks of a very special kind to my dearest of friends, the co-authors of this book.

— Craig Kodera

A Yale graduate, Juan Terry Trippe was always thinking of aviation. His first venture was Long Island Airways from 1923 to 1925, and then The Aviation Corporation of America. In what would become his hallmark operating style, Trippe became a manager of mergers, appending one airline after another to the core airline (which in 1931 officially became Pan American Airways). That airline started in the Caribbean, then expanded into Mexico, then South America, Latin America, the Atlantic, and finally China and the Pacific. Often thought of as “deter­mined,” Trippe also had a reputation for sometimes being a bit unethical. However, the end results always favored his airline, Pan American.

Juan Trippe was a very patient man. If he wanted something he’d be willing to wait to get it but all the while wearing down his intended target until finally, he or they gave in. Trippe also learned early-on how to work within the system, a necessity since overseas route authority was granted by the government. Trippe’s influence was a constantly growing entity, and his vision for his airline was that of the sole U. S. Flag Carrier, or “The Chosen Instrument” to project America’s greatness. But no matter how he achieved his goals, Pan American was indeed the undisputed premier international airline in the world.

Pan American Airways flew to most of its desti­nations as the first airline ever to do so. When one is the pioneer, one quickly learns that everything must be built from scratch. The airline was renowned for its engineering prowess, and its navigational equipment was the leader in its field. Becoming and maintaining a rating as a Pan American airline pilot or navigator (pilots had to be proficient at both jobs) was gov­erned by the strictest of standards and proficiency levels. Pan American was able to strike out into com­pletely uncharted territory and build by hand a transoceanic airline, its 1935 Transpacific island ser­vice being the prime example. (Remember always the beautiful China Clippers and their siblings.)

Pan American was an airline of firsts too numer­ous to mention here; suffice it to say that when one thinks of the romance and intrigue of girdling the planet in an airplane in those early days, and taking two weeks to do so, only one airline name comes to mind: Pan American World Airways. Among his countless accomplishments, Juan Trippe would also have to be considered “the father of the modern jet airliner,” placing the historic launch order for Boeing’s new 707 in 1955, and then again in 1966 for the world’s first Jumbo Jet, the Boeing 747. Juan Trippe retired as CEO in 1968 and left the board in 1975. He guided and shaped his beloved and historic company for nearly half a century, and what a half century it was!

Minor modifications to Convair s Model 340 design brought about the Model 440 “Metropolitan,” offering a slightly higher gross weight, reduced interior noise lev­els, and optional weather radar. Its exterior measure­ments were identical to the 340, and Continental Airlines introduced the type on March 8, 1956. Convair sold 100 modification kits to Model 340 operators in order to bring the earlier models up to near-440 standards.

With 199 civil and military 440 sales, Convair-Liner production ended in early 1958 after 1,076 units were manufactured, including the prototype Model 110. Among the last built were several airplanes that did not find buyers until 1960. Adapting turboprop engines to the type’s airframe created the 500 and 600 series, stretching the aircraft’s useful life by many years. Some are still flying today, more than 50 years later, a hearty tribute to a sturdy, well-built airframe.

The typical DC-7 main cabin provided passengers with all the comforts of home: curtained windows, wood paneling, plush seats, fresh fruit, and even pillows and blankets for taking an inflight nap. Note the Club Lounge at the extreme rear of the cabin, and the natty attire of the traveling public in the heyday of the propliner era. (Craig Kodera Collection)

The last and most suc­cessful Convair-Liner variant, its Model 440 Metropolitan reached civil and military sales of 199 airplanes. In addition 100 Model 340s were upgraded to 440 standards. A brand-new Metro­politan appears adja­cent to the Convair plant at San Diego, apparently ready for a flight to Atlanta. (Convair/Jon Proctor Collection)

By Craig Kodera

hat an exciting time to be flying commercially: 1960. The Boeing 707 has made its debut and is now plying the airways, having beaten the Douglas DC-8 into service by a year. But the -8 was something special, and as the Douglas sales folks were saying, well worth the wait.

Until then, Douglas had been the undisputed leader in commercial airline transport aircraft, while Boeing built bombers. Douglas may not have been first, but the company learned from others’ mistakes and refined the jetliner concept. What emerged was a beau­tiful engineering accomplishment, which was designed to make both passengers and airline bosses happy.

When approaching the DC-8, a passenger cannot help but notice the height of the airplane, especially since it sat up on its main landing gear with a nose – down attitude. One could readily see this because the world was still utilizing external boarding stairs on a ramp outside a terminal. This only served to increase the juxtaposition of flight experiences between the props and the jets.

One other attention grabber was the “translating rings/ejectors” or reverser rings for each engine, designed to slide back on rails in the lower pylon while the airplane was in a landing configuration. Interestingly, this feature accomplished two other actions: noise suppression and inflight drag induce­ment much like using spoilers to help increase descent rate without increasing airspeed.

Upon entering the cabin, a Douglas design fea­ture immediately presents itself in the form of a for­ward lounge, placed in a dedicated space ahead of the main cabin. Much like the DC-6B and DC-7, the for­ward lounge had its own distinctive pair of windows. Decor was late-1950s chic, with vinyl upholstery and “space-age” colors and shapes in the furnishings. How delightful it will be to visit this area during our flight.

Arriving in our first-class cabin, we notice the unique Douglas-designed Palomar seats. These seats were state of the art at the time, and had in their headrests all of the passenger service unit amenities, rather than mounting them overhead. It was just one more way the DC-8 engineers tried to pamper Jet Age passengers.

But by far the most wonderful aspect of flying in a DC-8 was its windows. Those wonderful, expansive

Passengers board a United Douglas DC-8-21 in this carefully staged publicity photo taken at Long Beach Airport in 1958. In the foreground is a baggage tug with carts of individual baggage containers that held luggage and small cargo and were hoisted up into the under-floor baggage bays forward and aft of the wing. This novel Douglas feature became the stan­dard method of baggage loading many years later as wide-body transports made their debut. Note the carpet and stewardess positioned atop the boarding stairs ready to welcome everyone onboard. (Craig Kodera Collection)

windows were the largest on any jetliner. Thankfully this design feature was held over from DC-6 and -7 days, and we are sure to have a wonderful sightseeing trip in the DC-8 as a result.

Once underway, the airplane has the feeling of being rock-solid. The movement is hardly noticeable. Then the sound of the JT3 engines comes alive as they begin spooling-up for takeoff, the soft turbine whine settling into a low rumble. We’re off and on our way on Douglas-firm wings. You never have to worry about the struc­tural integrity of a Douglas airliner.

Having enjoyed all the passenger comfort items we had found on a DC-8, we realize our time in the air is almost at an end. As the flight draws to a close we notice that during our descent the DC-8 is a very “slick” aircraft design, one that can easily overrun an airport without careful planning by the cockpit crew. And here come those reversers now! On the ground with a solid touchdown, we can thank Douglas for another fine airplane. The Jet Age is certainly here, and the ride is wonderful.

Only Delta and United purchased DC-8-10s, with a total of 28 being built. Within four years, both carri­ers had begun upgrading them to turbofan-powered

DC-8-50s.

In much the same way as Boeing hatched the 707- 200 series, Douglas created its DC-8-20 by upgrading the -10 airframe with the more powerful Pratt & Whitney JT4A turbojets planned for the long-range DC-8-30. This resulted in an airplane tailored for oper­ations into hot and high-altitude airports, with an increased maximum takeoff weight of 276,000 pounds. Aeronaves de Mexico, Eastern, National, and United bought a total of 34 airframes. In addition, United upgraded 15 DC-8-10s to the Series 20 standard.

The first factory-delivered example was accepted by Eastern Air Lines on January 3, 1960, and entered service on January 20, advertised as the DC-8B, a des­ignation once marketed by the manufacturer and what seemed like a natural follow-on to Eastern’s DC-7B Golden Falcon service. Following a complaint to the CAB by Delta, however, Eastern was ordered to drop the “B” designation for the DC-8.

National Airlines initiated DC-8-20 service on February 11 between New York and Miami, technically becoming the first airline to simultaneously operate
both the 707 and DC-8 by virtue of its 707 leasing agreement with Pan Am.

For long-haul operations the basic DC-8 airframe was equipped with uprated JT4A-9, 16,800-pound – thrust engines, and fuel capacity was increased from

17,500 gallons to 23,400 gallons, creating the DC-8-30 series. Pan Am’s Chairman Juan Trippe, who insisted on having the more robust powerplant to gain the inter­national range his airline’s routes required, ordered it first. The JT4A was a civil version of Pratt & Whitney’s new J75 turbojet being used in several of the Air Force’s new supersonic Century Series fighters at the time.

Unlike the long-range 707-320, the DC-8’s fuselage was not stretched, nor was its wing area enlarged, but maximum takeoff weight was increased to between

300,0 and 315,000 pounds depending on the variant (-31/-32/-33). These changes increased its range to 4,700 miles, resulting in transatlantic capability, even to south­ern European destinations. Fifty-seven DC-8-30s were sold to 10 airlines including U. S. carriers Northwest and Pan American, which was first to put the type into ser­vice on March 27, 1960, between New York and Bermuda, and then later to Europe and South America.

The DC-8-40 variants (-41/-42/-43) were identi­cal to the respective DC-8-30 series, but powered by
17,500-pound thrust Rolls-Royce Conway R. Co.12 bypass engines. Thirty-two were delivered to Alitalia, Canadian Pacific, and Trans-Canada Airlines. TCA accepted the first Series -40 on February 4, 1960, and began service on April 1 between Toronto and London via Montreal.

his book is respectfully dedicated to the memory of Terry Waddington, aeronautical engineer, Douglas Aircraft Company salesman par excellence, and one of the last of the true believers.

FOREWORD

o one is better qualified to write the dramatic story of air travel’s transition from propellers to jet-power than Jon Proctor, Mike Machat, and Craig Kodera. They constitute a trio of respected chroni­clers of aviation history. Forgive me, however, if I emphasize that Jon Proctor has been my mentor and role model for many years, someone to whom I have turned to many times for help with my own historical research. What is more important is that this talented trio has fashioned a work that is factually honest, scrupulously objective, and blessed with a rare “we – were-there” insight.

From Props To Jets takes us back to what arguably was the most dramatic and significant decade in civil aviation history: the saga of the 1952 to 1962 techno­logical revolution that literally shrank the world by measuring distance in terms of hours rather than days and miles traveled. This brilliantly researched and writ­ten contribution to aviation history could not come at a more appropriate time, for it injects into the doom-and – gloom atmosphere of today’s air travel difficulties and complaints, a reminder of accomplishments that we now take for granted. It also accents the positives instead of the negatives, something that is rare and sorely needed in this era of adversarial journalism. For as the authors point out, this was also the decade during which the air­plane itself supplanted the family automobile, bus, train, and ship as the single most dominant provider of long-distance travel.

I owe these fine writers my gratitude for producing not merely a fascinating book but an important one. The airline world that people like Jon, Mike, Craig, and I respected and loved, even when we criticized it, exists no more. This book, therefore, comes poignantly close to being a kind of requiem, a magnificent and justified tribute to an industry that has always taken ten steps forward for every step backward, and ultimately deserved a far better fate.

— Robert J. Serling Former Aviation Editor, United Press International

While DC-3s had served the airlines well since the mid-1930s, the type was considered slow and flew through more bad weather than it could climb over. Airline managers wanted a new twin-engine, short – to medium-range replacement with added capacity, more speed, and a pressurized cabin.

At San Diego, the Consolidated Vultee Aircraft Corporation, recognized as “Convair,” first flew its pro­totype Model 110 on July 8, 1946. From this 30-seat variant, the production Model 240 was developed, gain­ing its name from the two-cngine, 40-passenger config­uration. It featured a tricycle landing gear along with the pressurized cabin and added speed desired by the air­lines. The 240 prototype first flew on March 16, 1947.

Designed for short-haul, multi-stop route seg­ments, the 240 design offered optional self-contained airstairs and claimed a maximum speed of 300 mph, although 275 mph was a more realistic cruising speed for day-to-day operations. Its list price was $495,000, a far cry from the $10,000 cost of a surplus C-47 after the war.

American Airlines became the Convair-Liner launch customer with a massive order for 100 Model 240s to replace its workhorse DC-3s and provide further route expansion. The Convairs provided short-haul service to destinations such as Roanoke, Virginia, where Flagship Algonquin was headed from New York’s LaGuardia Airport. (Allan Van Wickler)

The type’s production had been assured in 1945 by an American Airlines order for 100 airplanes (later low­ered to 75), purchased to replace the carriers DC-3 fleet and provide further route expansion. It also had the advantage of Pratt & Whitney R-2800 engines, com­mon with American s planned four-engine Douglas DC-6 fleet. Convairs began flying for the airline on June 1,1948.

Another 13 airlines bought 240s. The DC-3s they replaced were gradually sold off, many to the newly designated U. S. local service carriers. Convair pro­duced 176 Model 240s, including two built in execu­tive configurations. The success of the program was enriched by production of 390 military variants pro­duced in five different configurations for the U. S. Air Force and U. S. Navy.

espite Britain’s false start with the Comet 1, and Boeing’s new 367-80 jet transport being only a “proof-of-concept” prototype at this point, the promise of jet-powered commercial flight was becoming closer to reality with each passing week. As modern and accommodating as major U. S. airports may have been at that time, the need for expansion, improvement, and modernization for the new breed of jets was becoming increasingly apparent, as their unique operating requirements came into focus. First and foremost on this list were longer runways, requiring either expansion of existing facilities, or construction of a brand-new and much-larger airport farther away from the city center. This latter option, although more costly, allowed designers the distinct advantage of starting from scratch with whatever new design best suited local needs.

By taking a virtual tour of U. S. airports of this time period, we can see that the Northeast segment of the country provided the necessary passenger and cargo gateways to Europe and points east. For
domestic travel, these same cities were the origins for trips westward all across the country to California and even Hawaii. Moving in a clockwise direction, we begin our tour with Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts (BOS). Located on the tidal flats east of downtown Boston, this airport and its neighbor to the south, Idlewild Airport in New York (IDL), had nowhere to expand but outward on land­fill built into adjacent bays. New terminal complexes and vast ramp areas would be added to both these great airports within a decade.

Moving down the East Coast we come to National Airport in Washington, D. C. (DCA). Having opened in 1941, the airport had nowhere to expand geographically for the new jets. However, this scenario presented a brand-new opportunity for air­port planners in the Washington and Virginia metro – plex to consider—the design and construction of a brand-new mega-airport intended specifically for the Jet Age. Occupying more than 10,000 acres of virgin woodland located 45 minutes west of downtown

Washington, the new and futuristic Dulles International (DIA, later I AD) opened in 1962 with an average of only one or two aircraft movements per hour, a scenario that has changed dramatically since those early days.

Flying southward, we come to Atlanta, Georgia, where the local airport began life as Chandler Field. This airport remained quite adequate to accommo­date the first generation of new jets, but then grew into the grand multi-terminal Hartsfield International (ATL) in the 1970s. Down in sunny southern Florida, Miami International (MIA) provided America’s gate­way to South America and the Caribbean, having done so since the 1920s. By 1959, the facility had expanded to absorb a neighboring Army airfield to the northwest, and soon became one of the largest jet – ports in the southern United States.

As we move toward the upper Midwest, we come across yet another example of a small, local, and con­venient city airport that opened in 1927, but then had no physical room for expansion for the new jets. This airport would eventually give way to a new mega – jetport that would have to be built from scratch. Originally named Chicago Municipal Airport, Midway Airport (MDW) served as Chicago’s home airport for decades, but was overshadowed by O’Hare International Airport (ORD). Originally built during World War II and opened for commercial traffic in 1955, O’Hare’s new, larger, and vastly more modern terminal complex opened in 1962.

Following the Mississippi River southward, we come to a host of other mid-size city airports that began as waypoints for fuel and rest stops on transcontinental mail and passenger flights. These were Lambert Field in St. Louis, Missouri (STL), Kansas City in Kansas (KSC), and Love Field in Dallas, TX (DAL). These airports were eventually either augmented or replaced by larger complexes built on open land to the west.

Flying westward, perhaps one would stop at the Rocky Mountain home of Stapleton Field in Denver, Colorado (DEN), or Sky Harbor in Phoenix, Arizona (PHX), airports that both had room to grow for the big jets. Arriving on the West Coast we find Los Angeles International (LAX) and San Francisco International (SFO) in California, and Seattle/ Tacoma’s SeaTac in Seattle, Washington (SEA). All three of these airports expanded outward from their more modest 1950s configurations as the new jets entered service, with LAX moving to adjacent land immediately to the west, SFO expanding out into San Francisco Bay, and SeaTac growing on available open land to the north.

In all, America’s major airports represented a host of problems and solutions for the geographic, logisti­cal, and operational challenges posed by the worlds’ first generation of modern jetliners. In the chapters that follow, we will see in more detail how new Jet Age terminals and airport layouts accommodated the needs of a new breed of air traveler and aircraft alike.

(1953-1956)

he American public is now awash in an exciting new world of science fiction, military jets, experi­mental rocket planes, and the coming space age. Aircraft manufacturers and airport planners alike are bracing for a new paradigm in air travel —the 100- passenger jetliner. Passenger travel by air is now being accepted as the norm and not the exception, and expec­
tations run high for a day-and-age of jet-powered airliners.