Higher

100 Years of Boeing

Russ Banham

• Editorial: Chronicle Books LLC
• Año: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781452148953
• Categoría: Tecnologia e ingegneria
• Categoría: Aviazione

"A lavishly illustrated and meticulously researched overview of the aerospace giant's first century." — Aviation Week Over the course of a century, the Boeing Company grew from a small outfit operating out of a converted boathouse—producing a single pontoon plane made from canvas and wood—into the world's largest aerospace company. The thrilling story of the celebrated organization is filled with ambition, ingenuity, and a passion to exceed expectations. In this extensively illustrated book, Pulitzer Prize–nominated author Russ Banham recounts the tale of a company and an industry like no other—one that has put men on the moon, defended the free world, and changed the way we live. " Higher ably commemorates Boeing's enduring achievement, gliding nimbly through its triumphs of design, engineering and manufacture and, not least, its memorable contributions to wars won." — The Wall Street Journal

1 The Beginnings

The first B & W airplanes were built in a boathouse on Lake Union in Seattle.

At the turn of the 20th century, the world seemed like a much smaller place. Roads were unpaved and rutted, and most people got from here to there in a horse and buggy—“from here to there” being a distance of no more than 50 miles. For longer distances, travelers had the costly options of journeying by rail or ship. A trip across the United States took at least a week. A transatlantic journey from New York to Southampton, England, required a minimum of five days, and therefore such trips were not common.

Then, two brothers who operated a bicycle shop in Dayton, Ohio, demonstrated the feasibility of machine-powered human flight. The physical boundaries that held humans on the ground were conquered at last. Although the link between flight and travel was not immediate, the brothers’ achievement would make long-distance travel accessible to the public in only a few years.

So extraordinary was the first sustained heavier- than-air human flight by Orville and Wilbur Wright on December 17, 1903, that French inventor and engineer Louis Bleriot wrote, “The most beautiful dream that has haunted the heart of man since Icarus is today reality.” No one alive at the time would have disagreed.

Certainly not Bill Boeing. For this 23-year-old who had just left Sheffield Scientific School at Yale University, science and adventure were inextricably linked. Boeing had studied engineering at Yale and had a bent for “all things mechanical,” an early biographer noted. He enjoyed testing his physical skills and stamina, racing boats and cars. His adventurous interests led him to Grays Harbor, Washington, where he quickly learned the logging business on some timberland owned by his family.

Year by year, Boeing added to these holdings and traded them, gradually establishing himself in the Pacific Northwest as a sharp businessman, a “man on the go,” in the parlance of the day. In 1908 he moved his operations to Seattle, where he founded the Greenwood Timber Company, joining a class of other timber barons including Frederick Weyerhaeuser and Jack Eddy. Still, something was missing, an undefined need to engage in a business that was more exciting than buying timberlands and cutting down spruce.

Perhaps this explains Boeing’s business diversifications. His first was the acquisition in 1910 of the Heath Shipyard on the Duwamish River, where he had previously had a yacht called the Taconite built. Piloting the yacht appealed to his sense of adventure. So did the prospect of flying in an airplane, a longing he had harbored since the Wright brothers accomplished their historic feat a few years before.

In 1910, he traveled with friends to Los Angeles for the first International Air Meet. Transfixed by the aerial stunts and apparently unfazed by the danger, he approached French pilot Louis Paulhan and asked for a trip in his plane. Boeing didn’t get a ride, but he was determined to get one the next time.

The opportunity came at a 1914 Fourth of July flying exhibition in Seattle. Lining up for a flight on aviator Terah Maroney’s plane were Boeing and Navy Lieutenant George Conrad Westervelt, a close friend who had studied aeronautical engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and shared his interest in aviation. Boeing went first, perching beside Maroney on the front edge of the biplane’s lower muslin-covered wing. He later remarked that he could see the lake “tilting up beside him like a flat picture plate” as the plane banked away from Seattle’s Lake Union.

Timberman Bill Boeing rides a steamer ship into Grays Harbor, Washington, in 1903, the same year the Wright brothers achieved flight.

A B & W is shown in flight in a painting by Boeing artist Fred Takasumi.

The aircraft ascended farther into the sky, and Boeing witnessed the grand scenery of Puget Sound and “tiny people” below, his friend Westervelt among them. The ride was soon over, and the plane’s pontoons skidded across the lake’s surface. Afterward, Boeing turned to Westervelt and said, “There isn’t much to that machine of Maroney’s. I think we could build a better one.” Westervelt agreed.

Boeing decided to learn how to pilot a plane himself and signed up for flying lessons at the Glenn L. Martin Flying School in Los Angeles. Upon receiving his license, he purchased a Martin TA floatplane in which to practice flying. It arrived in pieces in crates, and he had it assembled in his boathouse on the shores of Lake Union. But he was no more impressed with the Martin TA than with Maroney’s biplane.

Armed with Westervelt’s knowledge of aerodynamics and Boeing’s mechanical skills, the two men tackled the task of making a better plane. They replaced the single pontoon on the Martin TA with two pontoons affixed to two outriggers—an innovation that enhanced stability during takeoff and landing. Westervelt arranged for his alma mater to review the design and test a model of the twin-float seaplane in MIT’s brand-new four-foot-wide wind tunnel on Vassar Street in Cambridge. It passed with flying colors.

From these humble beginnings—two fellows in a small boathouse making a better airplane—sprang the company that would make passenger air travel routine and voyages to the moon attainable.

The partners called their plane the B & W for their respective initials. The first model was christened the Bluebill. Soon, the second (and final) B & W, the Mallard, was in production. Boeing recruited about a dozen workers for the new aircraft company, including pilots, carpenters, boat builders, and seamstresses to sew together the muslin wing coverings. They manufactured the aircraft one piece at a time at the shipyard on the Duwamish River and trucked the pieces to Boeing’s boathouse for assembly.

On June 29, 1916, the Bluebill made its maiden flight, without Westervelt there to watch it. The country was on the brink of war, and the U.S. Navy had dispatched him to the East Coast to prepare for maneuvers. At the controls of the plane was Bill Boeing—the pilot was late, and Boeing had a yearning to fly it anyway. He taxied the plane along the waters of Lake Union, gunned the engine, and lifted off for a brief quarter-mile trip. Years later, Boeing magazine would describe the Bluebill on its first flight: “its wings straight and pert, spruce struts gleaming with new varnish.”

Upon landing, Boeing remarked, “The construction was better all around [than the Martin TA].” As he had predicted, they had made a better plane.

With Westervelt gone, Boeing incorporated Pacific Aero Products Co. on his own on July 15, 1916. The following year, he changed the name of the aircraft manufacturing company to Boeing Airplane Co. He was convinced that constant innovation and technological advancements were the keys to making the company a success, and he was willing to spend what it took to achieve it.

To attain his objectives, Boeing hired one of the few aeronautical engineers in the country, Wong Tsoo, a Chinese national studying in the United States. Other engineers, including Clairmont “Claire” Egtvedt and Philip G. Johnson, both recent graduates from the University of Washington, also joined the company. By the end of its first year of existence, Boeing Airplane Co. had almost 30 employees.

This photograph of a B & W in the air gives a clear view of the seaplane’s pontoons.

A Boeing Model C awaits flight in Boeing’s Lake Union boathouse in Seattle. The Navy would order 50 of the training planes as the United States entered World War I.

From the beginning, Boeing had a reputation as an exacting perfectionist. He was well aware of the seriousness of his new enterprise—people’s lives were at stake. He once saw a set of improperly sawed spruce ribs in the shipyard that served as the company’s manufacturing plant and tossed them to the floor and broke them. Another time, he spied a frayed aileron cable and said, “I, for one, will close up shop rather than send out work of this kind.” Bill Boeing’s regard for meticulousness is woven into the history of the company that bears his name and characterizes the enterprise to this day.

Despite the company’s early commitment to quality and innovation, orders were slow in coming. To keep the business going, Boeing dug into his own wallet to guarantee a loan covering his payroll—about $700 a week, a huge sum at the time.

There was a break in the financial strains on the company when Westervelt wrote Boeing that the Navy desperately needed training planes to create a corps of pilots. The war in Europe had escalated, and the United States was preparing for probable involvement. Boeing immediately charged Wong to assist the company’s lead engineer, James Foley, with designing a new aircraft to address the Navy’s need. The result, the Model C seaplane, incorporated several mold-breaking innovations. The wings tilted upward two degrees, and the upper wing sat forward of the lower wing rather than being stacked. Wong tested a model of the plane in a wind tunnel that had just been built at the University of Washington; Boeing had funded its construction in the hope that the school would eventually provide well-trained aeronautical engineers for the growing company. The aircraft performed beyond expectations.

Now, he had to get the plane to the Navy base in Pensacola, Florida, for evaluation before the deadline. Flying the plane from Sea...