Friday, October 30, 2020

The 1956 Grand Canyon Air Disaster

The Crash That Resulted in The Establishment of The FAA

Last weekend I traveled to Flagstaff for a very happy event; a lovely wedding. While there I became aware of a bit of Flagstaff history residing in the City's Citizen's Cemetery.

On June 30, 1956 two state-of-the-art commercial aircraft departed Los Angeles International Airport within just a few minutes of each other. Their final 90 minute flights would end in an explosive midair crash over the Grand Canyon. Everyone on board both aircraft would perish in what would be American aviation's worst disaster to date and the first crash to claim more than 100 lives. 

Interest piqued, I made a stop to the mass grave to pay respects to the victims of this terrible national tragedy that took place a month after I was born in 1956.

Here is the story:

TWA Flight 2 

TWA Flight Number 2 was destined for Kansas City Downtown Airport in one of TWA's fast and comfortable Lockheed L-1049 Super Constellations. This one christened "The Star of the Seine". 

Super Constellation's had a sleek curved profile and a distinctive low profile three-part tail that allowed the plane to more easily fit in the hangars of many airlines. The TWA flight carried 64 passengers (11 of whom were off duty TWA employees) plus 6 crew members. This aircraft holds additional meaning to me as my first flight at the age of five originated in Oakland on a Super Constellation operated by PSA.  

 

United Flight 718

United Flight 718 was destined for Chicago Midway in a fast new Douglas DC-7 christened "The Mainliner Vancouver". Flight 718 carried 53 passengers and 5 crew members. The DC-7 was a slightly faster aircraft with propellers painted a distinctive red, white and blue to blend while in rotation. 


Both aircraft were built in California in Long Beach and Santa Monica and deemed completely airworthy. 

Both flights took off a few minutes late. The United flight initially flew towards Palm Springs and then turned towards the Grand Canyon. The TWA flight initially flew towards Daggett (Barstow) and then turned towards the Grand Canyon flying at an altitude of 19,000 feet. Seeing weather a radio call was made to climb to 21,000 feet. 

The Grand Canyon was "uncontrolled airspace". In uncontrolled airspace pilots were responsible to "See and Avoid". 

In an era when the US was busy building a vast new interstate highway system, the need for a modern air traffic control system had gone largely ignored. But as the number and nature of midair collisions and near misses kept increasing the public became stunned by stories of America's crude air traffic control systems. Every crash resulted in newspaper and glossy magazine human interest stories profiling lives lost. And, since commercial air travel was largely the domain of captains of industry and the upper middle class, seemingly every crash resulted in fatalities of noteworthy Americans. On the TWA flight an entire family of four from Kansas City perished returning from a visit to Walt Disney's newly opened Disneyland.  Public confidence in air travel (which had been steadily increasing in the 1950's) started to decline resulting in calls for change. 

The weakness in coordinated air traffic control was because American airspace in 1956 was split between the military and the Civil Aeronautics Administration. This resulted in numerous near-misses and collisions between commercial and military aircraft. Flight tracking in 1956 was largely conducted via a loose network of radio monitoring points who in turn took radio calls and relayed requested changes in flight plans regarding altitude / speed  information to various flight centers.

In this case the TWA request to increase altitude to fly around thunderheads put both aircraft were on course to collide over the Grand Canyon. The crash left both aircraft in remote sites in the canyon making initial rescue and the subsequent crash investigation difficult. 

CAB Crash investigators eventually surmised the DC-7 saw the TWA plane and turn to avoid it. Its elevated wing hit the tail of the L-1049. With the loss of an engine and portion of its wing the DC-7 lost control. Correspondingly, without its tail section the TWA experienced an explosive decompression and dropped form the sky.

As details of the crash unfolded the the crude methods used to track and communicate with aircraft became clear and calls were made to establish a unified national air traffic control and monitoring agency. For the first time one agency would combine flight information of both military and commercial aircraft. After 2 years of contentious hearings, the FAA Federal Aviation Agency (renamed in 1966 as the Federal Aviation Administration) was formed together with a commitment to establish a comprehensive network of radar to track aircraft flying in American airspace. 

29 of the United airline victims were interred at the Grand Canyon Pioneer Cemetery. 66 of the TWA airline victims were interred at the Citizens Cemetery in flagstaff (now completely encircled  by the campus of Northern Arizona University).


 
 

After 64 years, memories tend to fade. Yet, this disaster is important to understand. It served as the defining catalyst in developing a modern American air traffic control system, our national network of radar and the FAA. 


Roadboy's Travels © 2020

 

Monday, October 5, 2020

The Tuna Boat Goes to the Old Car Spa

My 1961 Bullet Bird


This is a second repost. I initially posted it in 2011 to celebrate her first full 50 years. Then again in 2013 after she got a major suspension overhaul.
 
Well here we are in 2021 and my bird has completing over a year of restoration efforts by Darrin Dottling at Phoenix's Vintage Ford Connection. Darrin and his dad Jim have looked after her for the past 25 years.
 
This time around the bumpers came off along with all the chrome and the body was stripped down to metal. It was repainted from its original beige to a azure blue. The engine was removed. The massive bumpers and all brightwork was straightened and re-chromed. Turned out the engine block was cracked so a new block had to be found and was completely rebuilt. It is fitted with a slick new modern carburetor.

Even the steering wheel was removed and is being reglossed back to original. 

All of this attention should allow my now 60 year old Bullet Bird to energetically begin her  next 50 years.

Now here's her story......

When I first saw her I knew she was something special; low to the ground and uber curvy. She was the color of desert sand. I had to look to find the door handles (they were sculpted right into the door). This car was just plain bodacious.

To a 16 year old boy, in an era of boxy 70's era mustangs, it was love at first sight.

The Thunderbird was already 11 years old and had a little over 34,000 miles and was in darned good shape except for missing a back seat. 

When I asked about the seat the little old lady selling it told me she raised show dogs and had the back seat removed (and filled with plywood to better accommodate the cages she used for transporting them). I had visions of the back seat resting in perfect shape covered up in her garage. 

Nope, she had thrown it out.


My 1961 Thunderbird
(From the Era of Sputnik)

When I asked about the missing jack she wistfully said "Oh, I have triple AAA, I don't need a jack!"

There's some logic in there somewhere.

When I asked where I might find a back seat to replace the one she threw away, she rolled her eyes to let me know I was really starting to annoy her. She just said "these are sports cars, they get wrecked every day, go to a junk yard!"

It also needed tires. I also knew full well that (powered by Ford's legendary 390 V8 with a 4 barrel carb) it would pass anything on the road except a gas station. But, back then gas was 34¢ a gallon, came with a free box of dishwasher detergent, and a complimentary car wash.

I took it.

Ahhhh! Fins and Chrome

First stop was a junk yard and I'll be damned if the first T-Bird I came to had a back seat in the right color and the jack. It was pure joss.

The Famous Back Seat

While most of my travels today are by plane, in those days Roadboy's ticket to freedom was this very car. I drove it to high school every day. I drove it to Lake Tahoe about once a month. I drove it camping in the Redwoods. I drove it to Death Valley.

This is the car that moved me to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and then saw me through all of my college years in Moscow. In fact it was at college where my friend Darryl christened her the "Tuna Boat". The title stuck.

I spent the stupidest night of my life in it, driving drunk. That was the same night I rolled it right over a couple of those fold-up signs with flashers. Never saw em. But I dragged them until she sounded like a North Idaho logging truck. Yep those signs had ripped off both mufflers.

We made quite an impression on all the diners at the Country Kitchen that night.

I was lucky. No one got hurt and the noise my car now made affirmed one of the most important lessons of my life. Never mix alcohol with driving. Ever. Period.

The Very First Swing-A-Way Steering Wheel

When I graduated from college, the Tuna Boat drove me to Seattle (right through the fallout from the eruption of Mount Saint Helens - there is still that grey ash under every panel).

The Invisible Door Handles

But when I moved to Alaska the Thunderbird went off to live with mom and dad back in Idaho. Dad took good care of her and after my five years in Alaska I picked her back up in Seattle.

Amazingly, after a few minor fixes it drove like a champ all the way back to where it started - California. Over the next decade I finally had to have it painted and was only able to drive it once in awhile.

When we moved to Arizona in 1994, the tuna boat carried me, my 4 year old son Bryan and our huge golden retriever Charlie. My son sat in the passenger seat with Charlie carefully straddling the space between our seats looking out the big windshield and panting the whole way. Charlie was a big gentle soul with an epic case of doggie halitosis.

In Arizona the car had a proverbial melt down one day losing all of its ability to cool itself and, me being cash strapped, I had to leave it parked for about three years. (Update: thats probably when I cracked the block). Then I met the god of Big Birds and old Falcons, Jim Dottling. Jim took my car for about a month into his Thunderbird Connection shop in Sunnyslope. There in his old car spa he methodically brought her back to life. Over the years he rebuilt the transmission, replaced all of the rubber parts, added an AC unit, new upholstery, new dash, and a modern sound system. While Jim has since retired, his son Darrin now runs the T-Bird Connection and provides the same thoughtful TLC.  

In many ways she looked better after Jim's care than when I was in high school.

So, except for one night when I played jackass, the Bird safely carried me and my loved ones, friends, and canine buddies for 46 of its 60 years.

Now when I drive I get lots of honks, big smiles, and a whole bunch of thumbs up. Mostly from old guys without teeth driving old beaters.

My son used to always duck down and hide.

Best $700 I ever spent.

 
                              Here's a 2021 `Progress Shot of the New Blue Livery                                                                                                                                                                                                   
And Here's the Finished Product!    
 
                                                   
Roadboy's Travels © 2011, 2013, 2021