Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Boeing's troubles reach to the top

Kudos to Jon Talton at the Seattle Times for calling it like it is:
Tuesday's announcement of a record $1 billion charge for delays in the 747-8 should be a moment of clarity. And when all the debris of excuses and blame is cleared away, we stand at the door of Chairman and Chief Executive James McNerney and the Boeing board of directors.
And the summation:
Boeing has a board that should be a model of independence and executive competence. There's John Biggs, the former boss of TIAA-CREF, who should be a maniac for protecting shareholders such as the huge retirement fund he once ran. John Bryson ran the parent of a tiny, simple company called Southern California Edison for 18 years. Linda Cook is executive director of Royal Dutch Shell and Mike Zafirovski (another Welch protégé) is the former CEO of Nortel. No other Boeing employee but McNerney sits on the board.

It's a struggle to understand why a board of this stature and intelligence would allow McNerney to continue as chief executive. The clubby and insular world of top business leaders should only get him so far with these directors unless it's yet another sign of even deeper troubles. One would be the kind of CEO cult of personality pioneered by Welch. Another is the kind of Kool-Aid keg party held by seemingly strong boards that nevertheless bought into a flawed and insular worldview of their company. General Motors comes crashing to mind.

Honoring local aviation pioneers: Historical markers for Texas Aero to be rededicated

I love it when I come across a golden nugget of aviation history I didn't know about before. This story came from the Temple Daily Telegram:

Two historical markers honoring early Temple aviation pioneers have flown the coop. However, by next year, they will get to roost in a new, more meaningful location, thanks to efforts from the Bell County Historical Commission and the Texas Department of Transportation.

Now the Historical Commission is gathering names and addresses of descendants of those early pioneers for when the markers are replaced and rededicated sometime next year. Those families will be specially invited guests to the ceremonies.

In 1970, the Texas Historical Commission awarded a historical marker to honor Texas Aero and the creators of the Temple monoplane.

Having been to the Frontiers of Flight Museum several times, I didn't even realize the Temple monoplane is on display there!

Although Texas Aero has been gone for nearly 80 years, stories abound about those heady days of flight. The Texas Aero story still fascinates Ferrel. He began researching the company in the early 1960s and scoured every inch of the abandoned factory site for plane remnants.

As early as 1910, the Williamses experimented with their monoplane design, which they dubbed "Temple Monoplane." By 1913, they were in the air, albeit at first for a few minutes and for a few yards.

"The problem was George Williams didn't know how to fly. It wasn't until World War I that he learned," Ferrel said.

Despite that minor hindrance, Williams held several patents on monoplane improvements. The early monoplane was designed primarily for air delivery. E.K. Williams, editor of the Temple Daily Telegram, delivered newspapers by air to rural areas. The Williamses also got postal delivery routes.

Sanderford learned to fly during World War I, when aircraft were used for scouting and reconnaissance and later evolved into air fights. A mechanic, Carroll added adjustable landing lights and fireproof mail compartments to the monoplane's design. The partners also developed lights and other aids for night flights - an innovation at the time.

The brothers worked under several business names. By 1927, they founded Texas Aero. That same year, the company produced the two- and three-seat commercial-wing aircraft, designed by George Williams and Carroll.

Templeites Ralph Doshier and Ted Von Rosenberg bought the last plane made there. Despite successes, Texas Aero closed during the Great Depression after George Williams died in August 1930 in a student training accident.

Thirty years later, Ferrel became so enchanted with the story of those lofty pioneers that he built a Temple monoplane from scratch, using original sketches loaned to him by George Williams' daughter, Dorothy. Registration for the last Texas Aero aircraft expired in the late 1930s in Fort Worth, and Ferrel could find no original planes.

And this part was particularly endearing:

In 1992, Ferrel donated the monoplane to the Frontiers of Flight Museum on the east side of Dallas' Love Field, where it still can be viewed suspended high and proud overhead. In his last act of historic derring-do, he flew the plane himself to Love Field.

"Actually, I had to land in Lancaster and phone the tower at Love Field so they could tell me what to do next and where to land," he said with a laugh.

Kudos to the Texas Department of Transportation for making sure this small jewel of aviation legacy in Texas isn't forgotten!