End of an era

The first 747 was rolling down the line even before the building it occupied was completed. A true feat of engineering.

The mastermind behind the entire project was a visionary named Joe Sutter. UPS named its first 747-8 after him. I wish I could have met this remarkable individual and thanked him.

My story of the 747 starts in Anchorage, Alaska, in the early 1970s. As the air crossroads to the world, Anchorage was the place of many airliners refueling between Europe and Asia. I would ride my bike to the airport and hang on the fence for hours just to marvel at an airplane I knew that someday I would fly. The smell of kerosene in the air was intoxicating, and added to the thrill of watching the world’s airlines pushing tin across the polar routes.

I had a neighbor at the time who got me inside the fence to tour a Boeing 707, but my gaze was elsewhere, I knew where I was headed.

Jumping ahead to 1982, I enrolled in a high school class called aviation science. The curriculum was designed to get you past the private pilot written. It was the summer of my junior year, and my parents went on vacation. I stayed at home, and, eyeing my chance, took a job at an FBO on Merrill Field. Had I not taken this opportunity my mother would have never allowed me to fly.

“Low and slow,” she used to say. “High and fast is safer,” was my response.

By the time my parents arrived home it was too late. I had soloed and was into my cross-country navigation flights.

I would go on to fly the bush of Alaska in de Havilland Twin Otters, and after a brief stint at a commuter in California I landed a job as a DC–10 first officer flying mainly in Asia. I moved on to the MD–11, but my goal was still not realized. In 1999 I was offered a job with a 747 carrier with an awesome opportunity that has blossomed into a $5 billion corporation. That was 23 years ago. Almost a quarter of a century on the “whale” and it still amazes me. Flying five different variants of this magnificent machine has been my honor, and a real pleasure. So when I had the opportunity to get a private VIP tour of the factory at Everett, Washington, to witness the last-ever queen of the skies rolling down the line—one that would be delivered to my airline—I jumped on it. Donning safety glasses and a reflective vest, I entered the hall of giants. There she was, N863GT. I stopped dead in my tracks, my guide watching the emotion well up in my eyes. The last 747. I almost had to use my shirt sleeve to wipe the tears. But as the scene of this amazing flying machine became clearer, I was filled with joy.

“Hey, wait,” I said. “I fly that airplane, been on the 74 for 23 years.”

My guide was shocked. “I think you can tell me a thing or two.”

I explained that I had also been an instructor on the beast, and he picked up his cell and called the 747 program manager to meet us on the floor. Truly some of the best people in the Boeing company were guiding me through the process. They told to me that two generations of families have worked on this program. Wow!

The tour included “Main Street,” the heart of the facility featuring 24-hour coffee shops and restaurants. An amazing city under the biggest roof by volume in the world. I was allowed to visit the flightline as well. There was a “green” 747-8 yet to be painted for my viewing pleasure. A real treat, and it had that new jet smell.

As the day wore on I had a warm feeling in my heart. The 747-8 will be flying past my date of retirement, and that is so cool. Another generation of aviators will still experience the majesty of this incredible machine. There is no other like it in the world. By the way, the 747 has helped me to become an international chef. But that, as they say, is another story.

Mark Bly travels the world as The Flying Chef. He flies from Anchorage in “whales” and GA aircraft.