You Want How Many Wright Flyers???? By Jim Schubert

In August of 1967 "Pete" Peterson came into my office at Boeing Plant One and asked, "How long would it take you to build 35 models of the Wright brothers' 1903 Flyer?" "Why the hell would you want that many and when and why?" I asked in reply. With some exasperation he explained that our ex-boss, Mal Stamper, who was now Vice-President of the Everett Division wanted to hold a dinner on December 17, 1967 for the 35 risk-sharing suppliers to the 747 program to thank them for their efforts to date and fire them up to maintain pace toward the prototype's first flight one year later on December 17, 1968 - the 65th anniversary of the Wrights' first flight.

As a memento of the occasion Mal wanted to give each risk-sharing supplier a model of the Wrights' aeroplane. Each was to be mounted on a fine walnut base with an engraved brass plate recognizing the recipient and be enclosed in a custom made acrylic case. "Isn't that what we have a model shop for?" I asked. With strained patience Pete explained that the model shop's budget for this task was too high at about $1,500 for each mounted and cased model and they could not guarantee delivery before the event. I told him I'd either give him a price and delivery quotation the next day or decline the job.

I phoned Pete the next morning and told him I'd do the 35 models for $35.00 labor each if Boeing would buy 35 of the Monogram 1:39 scale kits and deliver them to my home, reimburse me for all other project costs, which I estimated would not exceed $10.00, and pay me promptly upon delivery. I also committed to have the models ready within 60 days of my receipt of the 35 kits. I further stipulated that Pete had to get the bases and cases made by the mock-up shop and order the plates from a trophy shop himself. He phoned me back and said we had a deal.

When the kits arrived I separated them into myriad boxes of common parts; all 35 ship-sets of each part went into separate labeled boxes. There was a box for top wings, a box for bottom wings, a box for lower engine halves and so on. All of the Wilburs and Orvilles and other unused parts went into the scrap box. My young daughter retrieved the figures to play with. Each part in each labeled box was then inspected. Unusable parts were tagged and returned, via Boeing's Materiel Department, to Northwest Hobby Distributors for warranty replacement. They didn't know how to handle this so they gave me 12 complete kits to cover the defective parts rather than make a part for part replacement - more fodder for the scrap box and more Orvilles and Wilburs for Elizabeth to play with.

My work plan called for each part to be cleaned up and then, if required, painted. All parts save the wings, rudders and elevators were spray painted with Testors or Pactra spray cans. My assembly sequence was completely different from Monogram's recommendations; I assembled all 35 aeroplanes before rigging them with monofilament nylon fishing leader. The only parts left off until after rigging were the propellers. After rigging and fitment of the propellers, the entire model was dusted lightly with Testors Dullcoat from a spray can.

Both my wife and four year old daughter helped. One day whilst I was at work, my wife was taking some spare time to assemble a couple of wing cellules. To facilitate gluing I had filled a hypodermic syringe with Testors liquid cement. We stuck the needle into a cork when not in use to prevent glue drying in the tip. On this day when my wife finished, she pushed the needle into the cork with too much energy and it went right through into her finger. Concerned, she phoned our doctor. His immediate wiseacre reaction was to ask her, "Isn't sniffing it fast enough for you?" Seriously, he told her it was probably of no concern but to watch her finger for swelling or signs of infection.

One of the photos shows 33 of the models on a table alongside my work bench. When the models were finished, I phoned Pete to collect them. Boeing's Transportation Department sent a monster of a truck to my house. The driver was amazed at how small his "load" actually was. I had him spread furniture pads on the floor of the truck and we set the models thereon relying on the friction between their landing skids and the furniture pads to keep them in place for the trip to Everett where they were to be mounted, labeled and cased.

In the two months between delivery of the models and the date of the celebratory dinner, the dinner was canceled because it had become clear the 747's first flight would not occur on December 17, 1968 and would slide into the first quarter of 1969. The brass plates for the risk-sharing suppliers were removed from the walnut bases and replaced with plates that simply identified the aeroplane. Most of the 35 mounted and cased models were given to the Boeing store and sold to employees and visitors. I didn't learn of this method of disposal until after they were all gone, so I don't have one and I never learned at what price the models were sold - I didn't want to know.

I was finally paid four months after I delivered the models. The hold up was that Mal's staff could not figure out what account should pay me as I was not a "Qualified Boeing Vendor". They finally sent me an Entertainment Expense Reimbursement check for $1,223.00 marked for "Unspecified Customer Entertainments".

Last week Bill Johnson gave me one of the original Monogram kits and I plan to build it along the lines of Mitsuo Kashiwagi's fine article, translated by Scott Hards, in the December 2003 issue of FineScale Modeler. Those 35 models that I built in 1967 had no refinements incorporated; they were strictly out-of-the-box, stand-off models.

And the 747 prototype, N74700, Block Number RA001, "City of Everett"* finally flew for the first time on February 9, 1969 as shown in the accompanying photo.

*This name was applied to the airplane several years after its first flight.