The Price of prestige
Media
Part of Panorama
- Title
- The Price of prestige
- Creator
- Ettrick, David
- Language
- English
- Year
- 1965
- Rights
-
- Abstract
- From Variety, July 18, 1965.
- Haste has been one serious cause of air accidents.
- Fulltext
- ■ Haste has been one serious cause of air acci dents. THE PRICE OF PRESTIGE In 1930 aviation was just beginning to emerge from its turbulent adolescence. Only a quarter of a centu ry had passed since the first powered aircraft had pulled itself free of the Kittihawk sands for twelve triumphant seconds. The childhood of flying had ended with the Great War when the stimu lus of self-preservation had driven the warring nations to accelerate drastically the evolution of the flying mach ine. After the breathing spell of the 'twenties the farsight ed men in every nation saw that aviation was to be the international public trans port of the future and that if claims were to be stalked, now was the time. But if aircraft were to take over ocean liners, they would have to be stable, comfort able and economical. And to be truly economical they would have to be able to carry large numbers of pas sengers, far more than with in the capacity of the largest airplanes then flying. Britain, Germany and America had all reached the same conclusion. Each had its eyes on the glittering re wards that waited for the nation that could snatch first place in this new field of transport. Germany, with its military Zeppelins, had established a lead in airship design dur ing the war, but that had been lost in the chaos of de feat. Now, in 1930, it was known that the Germans were working on a vast new passenger-carrying dirigible. In America the Goodyear Zeppelin Company had com pleted the world’s largest hangar, an ominous portent of what the United States might produce. The aviation hopes of Bri tain’s first Socialist govern ment were pinned on a sil 12 Panorama ver-gleaming, cigar-shaped monster, the R101. Particularly was it the pride of Ramsay Macdo nald's handsome Secretary of State for Air, Lord Thom son. It had cost £1,000,000 of public money and it was going to demonstrate with the maximum of flourish that Britain would remain pre-eminent in international transport. Inevitably the ambition of the policy-maker clashed with the caution of the technical experts. The Minister had been largely responsible for the Government’s decision to back an airship development program and he was deter mined that this brainchild should make the greatest pos sible impact. He conceived the idea of having the RlOl’s maiden flight coincide with the Imperial Conference which was to be held in London in October 1930. The airship would make a round trip from England to Karachi, returning while the Conference was still in ses sion. Thus would be de monstrated ■ how Britain’s air supremacy was binding the Empire ever closer to gether. Later, Lord Thomson was to tell Wing Commander Colmore, Director of Airship development: “You must not allow my natural anxiety to start to influence you in any way.’’ But during the preparation of R101 that same anxiety was made un comfortably plain to the men working on the project. When, for instance, he was told that the experts wanted more time to nurse the great craft through its teething troubles, the Minister snapp ed: "I must insist on the program for the Indian flight being adhered to.” The experts had good rear son to be concerned about the deadline that had been set for the airship’s maiden flight. After one test flight a network of holes was found in the craft’s hydrogen bags. The diesel engines that po wered this, the biggest air ship in the world, were be lieved by some to be dange rously heavy. When Sir Sefton Brancker, Britain’s Director of Civil Aviation expressed doubts about the wisdom of press September 1965 13 ing ahead with the Indian flight, Lord Thomson told him: “If you’re afraid to go — don’t.” If the Minister himself had any reservations he cer tainly did not express them publicly. He boasted, in deed, that R101 was “as safe as a house, except for the millionth chance.” But the odds were, in fact, much shorter than that. Right up to the last minute an inspector had refused to give the 777 foot long air ship the certificate of air worthiness needed for foreign flight. And when in the early evening of Saturday, October 4, 1930, the shriek ing diesel engines lifted the airship’s 166 ton bulk into the air at Cardington for the maiden flight, the R101 had beep tested in her fi nal form for only 17 hours under calm conditions and never at her full speed of 70 mph. The man chosen to com mand the RlOl’s historic flight was Britain’s top air ship ace, Major G. H. Scott. He had captained the R34 on the first trans-Atlantic flight in 1919 and had taken the R100, sister-ship of the R101, to Canada and back just a few months before the latter’s maiden voyage. He had also been in charge of the trials of the R100 and the R101. From the outset Scott was was left in no doubt about the tremendous importance Lord Thomson attached to the Indian flight and its coinciding with the Imperial Conference. He was well aware, too, of the history of conflict leading up to the maiden flight, the experts’ reserva tions, the Minister’s deter mination. He knew that in his hands had been placed the prestige of British aviation — more than that, the future of air ship development, depend ent as it was on government backing. These were circumstances hardly conducive to the un troubled state of mind ne cessary to a man command ing a costly and virtually untried airship on a presti gious maiden voyage. While the R101 was still over London something hap pened that contributed no thing to Scott’s peace of 14 Panorama mind. Almost immediately after the take-off from Car dington there had been an unaccountabl lac/k of lift. Then gusting winds had made the airship pitch and roll in a way she had never done be fore. And now, as craning crowds packed the London streets, one of the after en gines sputtered and died. Engineers clambered into the cramped engine gondola to carry out repairs and the R101 boomed sluggishly on towards the Channel. In the luxurious, 60-foot, white and gold lounge of the airship aperitifs were being served to Lord Thomson, Sir Sefton Brancker and Lieute nant-Colonel V. C. Rich mond, the designer of the R101. This was a foretaste of the comfort and elegance that future globe-trotters could expect. Through the darkness the R101 droned over the south ern countries while engineers tried to breathe life into the dead engines. Even at this stage Scott might have been justify in taking his command back to Cardington. The weather report that came crackling in over the airship’s radio would, in con junction with the engine de fect and the craft’s trial his tory, have certainly vindicat ed him had he decided to abandon the voyage then. The distinguished passen gers rose from their celebra tion dinner and went down to the fireproof smoking room to enjoy their cigars. Now the gale was ham mering at the airship. Ahead lay the width of the stormtossed Channel. Now, if at all, was the time to turn back. At that moment did Scott recall the words spoken just before take-off by the Air Ministry’s airship expert, Wing Commander Colmore: “If she doesn’t get back in time for the Imperial Con ference, not only will there be no money for further airship work — it just won’t be asked for.” The R101 pressed on into the howling darkness. Over the Channel the en gineers managed to restart the dead engine. A few mi nutes after midnight the R101 crossed the French coast. At Poix Aerodrome bet ween Abbeville and Beau1S vais, the duty officer heard the thunder of airship en gines and rushed to the win dow. What he saw was frightening. The R101 was crossing the airfield at no more than 300 feet. At 2 a.m. lights flashed on in the town of Beauvais and people rushed into the streets to see the giant shape roar overhead. Five minutes later the R101 suddenly angled into an uncontrollable dive and crashed, bursting into flames, near Beauvais Ridge. Forty-six men were killed outright, including all those responsible for the creation of the R101. Eight emerged from the wreckage. Two of them died from their injur ies. The flames that consumed the.RlOl destroyed Britain’s faith in airships. With the clarity of hindROUTINE sight it is easy to say that Scott made the wrong deci sion, that considerations of politics and prestige should not have weighed with him for an instant. Indeed, the court of inquiry into the crash concluded that, had those responsible been en tirely free to choose the time and the weather for the vo yage and if the only consi derations had been those of metereology and preparation, the R101 would not have started when she did. The R101 flew when she did because reasons of pub lic policy made it highly de sirable that this should be. That the instrument of pub lic policy should have been a man of such dynamism and determination as Lord Thomson made the need to press on all the more com pelling. — David Ettrick, Va riety, July 18, 1965. Routine is the god of every social system; it is the seventh heaven of business, the essential component in the success of every factory, the ideal of every statesman... Unless society is per meated, through and through, with routine, civi lization vanishes. — Alfred North Whitehead in Adventures of Ideas. 16 Panorama