“Tex” Johnston, the Boeing test pilot who rolled the 707 prototype
A different thin and lanky fellow, Alvin M. “Tex” Johnston (1914-1998), was already an experienced test pilot when he joined Boeing at Wichita in July 1948 to test-fly Air Force B-47 bombers. As John Fredrickson and John Andrew explained in their book Boeing Metamorphosis: Launching the 737 and 747, 1965–1969, the soft-spoken Mr. Johnston relocated his young family to Seattle and set about to embellish his reputation as a colorful character further. Wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson hat on the flight line was but a part of the repertoire.
Starting out as a civilian flight instructor during World War II, Tex Johnston was said to be the inspiration for the mythical Air Force B-52 bomber pilot Maj. Kong in the 1964 black-comedy movie Doctor Strangelove. A dashing mustache also made him a Howard Hughes look-alike. A fresh pair of cowboy boots were handcrafted each time he took a brand-new version of the legendary B-52 aloft. These boots are now enshrined at Seattle’s Museum of Flight.
The annual Seafair celebration was scheduled for Aug. 7, 1955. The ever-popular annual Seattle celebration of summer features unlimited-class hydroplane boat races interspersed with air show events. The roar of war-surplus Rolls-Royce aircraft engines on the water attracted race fans by the thousands. Boeing regularly staged a flyby of whatever aircraft happened to be undergoing flight testing. Boeing’s President Bill Allen, a man whose daily actions were deliberate, scheduled, and most often scripted in advance, was about to be eyewitness to an event over Lake Washington that would sear itself into the annals of Seattle folklore as an anecdote to be told and retold.
The Boeing 367-80 crew
Always icy cool, Tex Johnston was the pilot in command at the controls of the Boeing 367-80 (the prototype for the Boeing 707), with copilot James “Jim” Gannett (1923-2006) seated to his right The mix of “nice guy” combined with superb piloting skills made Jim Gannett one of the finest aviators to ever wear a Boeing badge. Jim was chosen as the project pilot for the SST [Supersonic Transport]. A project pilot helps engineer and market and is the pilot in command on the first flight of a new model-thus putting his name into the record books. The fleeting opportunity for enduring notoriety evaporated when the SST got canceled. Two decades after 1955, Gannett soldiered on in anonymity as chief test pilot on separate military versions of the venerable 707-320C. They were the Air Force’s E-3A Sentry radar plane and a separate Navy submarine communications aerial platform designated the E-6 Mercury.
Flight testing is also deliberate and carefully scripted. Therefore, as part of a routine workday aloft, the flight plan included a low-level flyby over the racecourse. The barnstormer gene lurking within Tex Johnston emerged when he realized an audience of Boeing management, airline presidents, and a throng of local citizens were awaiting his appearance. A Boeing test engineer named Bel Whitehead occupied the heavily instrumented cabin to the rear. At the appointed time, Johnston aimed the nose toward Lake Washington and, in his usual slow drawl, said to copilot Gannett, “Jim, I’m gonna do a slow roll over the Gold Cup course.”
After a moment to process the incongruent words flowing into his headset, Gannett keyed his own microphone and said, “They’re liable to fire you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” countered Tex.
“Tex” Johnston Barrel Rolls the Boeing 707 prototype
The maneuver, better suited to the Navy’s Blue Angel demonstration team, had been rehearsed. It looked dangerous but was perfectly safe-but only when performed by an extraordinarily skilled pilot. The engine oil, fuel sumps, and everything else aboard the big jet would remain at a constant force of gravity (one “g.,” in technical terms).
Those in attendance at Lake Washington numbered somewhere between 250,000 and 300,000 spectators. Mr. William Allen and several airline guests were aboard a chartered boat and expecting the flyby. A distant spot became visible in the clear blue sky. The visage of a 248,000-pound experimental jet grew rapidly as it closed ground in a shallow dive at 490 miles per hour. The slow barrel roll began at only 200 feet above the watery racecourse as the Dash 80 went into a gentle climb. In the middle of the continuous roll, the bottoms of the wings faced upward and the vertical tail faced downward.
Tex turned the aircraft around and repeated the process, this time going in the opposite direction to ensure that the demonstration was not construed as a mechanical malfunction.
Bill Allen had no inkling of the plan and was flummoxed. He had bet the company by investing a scarce $16 million into the Dash 80. Allen, an ultraconservative fellow from Montana expected “his” airplane to be flown with dignity and respect. This meant the vertical stabilizer pointing upward, engines hanging downward, and people aboard sitting generally erect. Tex Johnston had violated that trust. Under Allen’s version of “Industrial Age chivalry,” there was nothing that could be done to retrieve the loss of trust. The next morning, Johnston and a cadre of executives were summoned to Allen’s office. Boeing People fretted- would Johnston be fired?
Swift revenge
“What did you think you were doing yesterday?” growled Allen
“Selling airplanes” was Johnston’s often-quoted response.
The following evening, Tex Johnston, along with World War I ace and leader of Eastern Airlines, Eddie Rickenbacker, attended a social event at the Allen residence. Rickenbacker mussed Tex’s cowboy hat and said, “You slow-rolling son of a bitch, why didn’t you let me know you were gonna pull that? I would have been riding the jump seat.”
Bill Allen was much less amused. After investing the company’s future into the prototype, he felt betrayed that anybody would sully it by performing cheap stunts. Bill Allen had already mulled the pros and cons of immediately firing Johnston but suppressed his strong urge for swift revenge. Firing, like the death penalty for felons, was a drastic measure to be invoked very rarely. The intuitive caution within the seasoned lawyer had won out; however, any chance for reconciliation was forever dashed.
The only test pilot to have ever publicly admitted to slow-rolling a Boeing airliner
Instead, Johnston was slowly pushed from the nest. Soon enough, Tex Johnston was exiled to perform remote assignments and eventually left Boeing for other opportunities. Bill Allen told an audience in 1977, “It has taken nearly twenty-two years for me to reach the point where I can discuss the event with a modicum of humor.” Both Bill Allen and his antagonist, Tex Johnston, lived long lives; however, each was ultimately taken by the same ailment-dementia with symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease.
No other Boeing test pilot has ever publicly admitted to slow-rolling a Boeing airliner but it is commonly assumed by insiders that Johnston’s public demonstration was not unique in the lonely remote regions of the vast, uncrowded western skies.
Boeing Metamorphosis: Launching the 737 and 747, 1965–1969 is published by Schiffer Military and is available to order here.
Photo by Bill Whitehead/Boeing and Joe Parke/Wikipedia
