Today, July 27, 2024, is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the first flight by what was to become the world’s first commercial jet airliner, the de Havilland Comet. Almost three years after its 1949 debut, in May of 1952, BOAC (now British Airways) launched the world’s first commercial jet-airliner service, flying its Comet 1A between London and Johannesburg, South Africa.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go well, there was a succession of fatal crashes and–in 1954–the year of my birth, the entire fleet was grounded. (This was probably about the time that the BOAC name became associated with the phrase, “Blast Off And Crash.” I think the more amusing “Better Off on A Camel” came later.)
My first recorded flight as a member of BOAC’s Junior Jet Club was in March of 1957. I had turned two just six months before. I know I’d flown before then, but I’m not sure on what. Oh, wait. (The Internet’s a marvelous thing.) The Junior Jet Club wasn’t founded until the “spring of 1957.” I guess that makes me a charter member, and some of my flight details among the earliest on record!
The 1957 flight was on a Douglas DC-4 which BOAC had bought from Canadair. This one (most certainly not a jet):
Photo, and more details, on https://abpic.co.uk/pictures/view/1291015
As best as I can determine from my Junior Jet Club log book, my first flight on an actual “jet” plane took place on October 29, 1963, just nine years after de Havilland’s dream of partnering with BOAC for international commercial jet service fell apart. The plane was registered as G-ARWE, and she was a Boeing 707. The flight was uneventful and–only three weeks before the assassination of JFK–heralded my family’s arrival in the United States.
Sadly, four-and-a-half years later, on April 8, 1968, G-ARWE, call sign Speedbird 712, experienced an engine fire on takeoff for a flight between London’s Heathrow and Sydney Australia, and the subsequent confusion, which included that engine detaching and falling to the ground, led to her crash and the deaths of five of her 127 passengers. (I know that Boeing is going through a tough time at the moment, but I’m not sure it’s a novel phenomenon. Perhaps it’s more a throwback to the past. Regrettable either way. But yes, Virginia, there was considerably more risk to commercial flight half-a-century ago than there is, even today.)
A while ago, on the 54th anniversary of the “jumbo jet’s” maiden flight, and shortly after the last 747 rolled off the production line, I wrote a post about my early flight experiences. I don’t think such an enchanting time will ever come again, but, perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe, sixty or so years from today, old ladies like myself will be writing, for audiences like you, about their memories of their childhood trips to the moon or to Mars. That would be lovely.
Anyway, here’s the original post:
On this day fifty-four years ago, February 9 1969, the first airplane to be designated a “jumbo jet,” the Boeing 747, made its maiden flight. It was certified for commercial service in December of that year, and flew its first flight with PanAm, in January 1970.
While I spent a considerable portion of my early childhood flying to “Those far away places, with strange-sounding names,” and although I’ve flown tens–perhaps hundreds–of thousands of miles on 747s, I didn’t make it onto a BOAC 747 until I was too old for “Junior Jet Club” status, those days in which I belonged to an elite group of children who were allowed into the cockpit with the pilot (just try that today), and whose every trip was recorded in handwritten and clear detail:
But the story of the 747’s maiden flight surely brought up some recollections:
Of the sense of belonging, and feeling “special.” Of the party favors, including the small bag with the shoulder strap that we proudly carried onboard. (It currently houses all the leftover currencies I’ve collected from my trips over the years then and since: Nigerian, Spanish, British, Canadian, French, Japanese, Thai, perhaps a few more; I haven’t checked for a while, because I haven’t been anywhere for a while:
And the fan. “All over the world BOAC takes good care of you.” And they did:
And then there are the ephemeral reminiscences. Of how lucky we were to be involved in what was–at the time–still the pretty early days of commercial airline travel for the masses. And how lucky we were to have survived them. We were treated like royalty, although we were nothing of the sort. The service was excellent. The meals were excellent. The seats were spacious and comfortable. The personnel were hard-working, kind, and meticulous.
And the bathrooms! The toilets were miraculous. “Where,” I couldn’t help wondering when I was about four, “did everything go when I pushed the button.” Whoosh! It just disappeared!
But, best of all, was the little vanity and mirror, chock-a-block with individually sized containers of perfume, lipstick, and sundry other potions and sprays. “Blue Grass” by Elizabeth Arden. I can smell it now. I’d disappear into the bathroom, only to be retrieved many minutes later (usually after someone had complained) by my rather embarrassed mother, who was mortified to discover my painted face and the stinking (but deliriously happy) rest of me. I’ll never forget that feeling.
Some decades later, and this particular memory was, perhaps, the first instance in which I realized the power of the Internet:
Many years ago, when I was wondering, one day, if I was the only person to have such recollections of the past. I did a search–I can’t remember which engine at the time–along the lines of “BOAC elizabeth arden bathroom,” and I came upon a chat group (yeah, it was that long ago) where a woman had written much the same thoughts about her early experiences. Lord, it felt good to know I wasn’t alone.
I see that the last Boeing 747 rolled off the production line just a week or so ago, some 55 years after the first. The “end of an era,” indeed.
Herewith, a few comments (of my own) from that old Ricochet post:
I remember flying on the Bristol Britannia, and the Vickers VC-10 (in the early to mid 60s). Also, many flights on the Boeing 707.
For the link, go to https://www.cosmeticsandskin.com/fgf/speedbird.php, and search for “BOAC.”
The first flights recorded in my Junior Jet Club book, when I was about 2 1/2 show that I was on board something called a Canadair-C4, which BOAC referred to as an Argonaut. This exact plane, in fact:
I’ve no memory of the plane at all, so I looked it up. Apparently, it was originally developed for Trans-Canada Airlines, but BOAC bought several of them, and ran them on various routes between 1947 and 1961. (They have a rather lengthy and disturbing crash record.) 55 passengers, 93′ long, cruise speed 325 mph. The log book records it took six hours and fifteen minutes to fly the 1520 miles between London and Tripoli, Libya. This may have been the plane which had a stopover in Barcelona, and which burst a tire on the landing, causing my mother–from my earliest memories onward–to launch into song whenever the city’s name was mentioned, with “I burst a tire, in Barcelona.” (Think, “I left my heart, in San Francisco.”) Mum was very good at that sort of thing.
BOAC itself had a rather unfortunate series of incidents across several of its aircraft models in the 50s and 60s, including a dreadful crash at Kano airport 1n 1956), leading to a set of derisory nicknames among the colonial types such as my dad–who really had no other flight options for themselves and their families at the time**–such as “Better Off on A Camel,” and “Blast Off And Crash.”
**The only other government-sanctioned method of travel to the West-African colonies was via Elder-Dempster steamship, out of Liverpool, to Lagos, with a port of call at Las Palmas. Those trips were fun for kids, too.
I’m just happy I’m still here. And feeling very lucky. When I look back on it all, and I think of how much I loved it, a part of me is appalled at the risks we took, and at what was considered acceptable for people and their families back in the day. But perhaps such risk, in the face of such obstacles, and regardless of such shock, is how we move forward. And we do need to keep on doing just that.
Prayers for all those who didn’t make it through, all those years ago.
Oh, Lord. Here’s a bit more detail about the Junior Jet Club, which states that Junior Jet Club Founding. If that’s so, then I joined, and flew, just one day later.
My wife’s grandfather was a BOAC pilot and (according to my father in law) rather liked the Comets just as a pilot. While the plane never recovered its reputation fully, DeHavilland continued to make them until (I think) the early 80s, and they competed favorably with the 707s – the design growing in length as it matured. I love the concealed engines and the way they contribute to the aesthetic.
I saw, when I was looking them up–trying to make sure I’d got my facts straight–that only 114 of them were ever built. Even given their problems, that seems like not very many.
Have I got a cockpit story for you. In the 1960s Island Airlines was flying Ford Trimotors from Sandusky to Put-in-Bay Ohio. A family friend knew my brothers and I were aircraft crazy and arranged a flight for us on one. Since it was a commuter line, there was only one pilot. That was the crew. That meant the co-pilot’s seat was empty. I not only visited the cockpit in flight. I was allowed to fly the flight in the co-pilot’s seat.
Wow! That’s the coolest thing ever.
When I was a child (my memories of this stem from the ages of about three to seven or so) we would regularly fly on small planes from one place to another around Nigeria. Most of the pilots were either retired RAF, or retired Royal Dutch Air Force, from the War. They were very charming men, and my mother was at the time a very bonny young woman and a rare sight in country. They energetically engaged my mother in conversation, and often used the “little girl” as an entry point, asking my mother, “would the little girl like to fly into a cloud?” or “would the little girl like to go down a bit lower and look at the cows?” Those were some wild rides. But I never got to fly the plane.