Concorde in competition
Leslie Finer
Washington '"Y own layman's fashion, ignorant as I 1.1" of the complex technical arguments, I aVe alWaYS had a high regard for every new fieneration of aircraft and a strong desire to sy ill the very latest and fastest of them. tipeed for it • vs own sake is, I am sure, attraceve to Most people. And that's why I expect of9intc.e'rde, or possibly some future version "3 be immensely successful. ev Ot e -VerYone agrees, of course. But what„. et side of the environmental argument you _where on, _
"LI Would have found it difficult to "LI Would have found it difficult to
srn Dbress a cheer as two— no less—of these fZri„ "teem flying machines rolled to a stop rt term '"g each other in front of the Dulles AirMal building this week, inauguratang:egl-llar services between London or Paris .1.`lhWaShington. arm. e setting could hardly have been more 1),,,,e9tiate for these beautiful aircraft: ; "es its soaring modern terminal set side 'mart of some lovely Virginia country surely one of the world's most attracbut airports. And, far beyond expectation
,
tur 'within the ability of a vast police -°ut to control, thousands had come
from miles around to witness the event, clogging the solitary service road with cars— and more fumes than a Concorde would create in months.
In this atmosphere of interest and elation, one was almost sorry for the scattering of anti-Concorde demonstrators of CATCH (Committee Against The Concorde Here) who found no ready demand for their leaflets and, one thought, were almost in a mood to throw in the towel and join the enemy. They had, it is true, fought a tough campaign—all the way up to Supreme Court Chief Justice Warren Burger who only last week gave Concorde the final green light by rejecting an injunction suit against it. The environmentalists could at least retire with honour. But they were in the minds of very few of the cheering thousands as the two planes, having tagged each other at close quarters across the Atlantic, landed almost simultaneously and, after taxi-ing in opposite directions with the precision of ballet dancers, came to rest nose-tip to nose-tip like two sleek flamingoes in love. It was almost a surprise to find that they did not stand on one leg—especially as each pilot raised his droop-nose to horizontal, just like birds billing each other.
As for the cooing—well, that's another matter. It was difficult to judge, since both planes tiptoed in as gently as they could over mostly empty countryside, how much noise there may be when some of the caution is abandoned in normal operation.
One can only say that the noise seemed, if anything, less piercing than that made by today's large subsonic jets. And that, certainly, was the verdict of many locals who first heard Concorde at full throat a few days previously—when President Giscard d'Estaing flew into Andrews Air Base on his official visit here.
All in all, it was a good day for aviation, and for Britain and France—between which countries harmony seemed to prevail throughout the inaugural ceremonies. The same harmony, one hopes, went into the manufacturing of the plane itself. But already, the first signs of healthy competition between the two operating airlines are beginning to appear. Each company, British Airways and Air France, produced its own vast quantity of glossy publicity material. And Air France, as distinct from BA, seems (optimistically, one can't help feeling) to be trying in its advertisements to persuade passengers from Paris to New York (where Concorde is not yet cleared to land) that it's better to go via Washington and catch a connecting flight to New York—which theoretically still saves a couple of hours over a direct subsonic trip.
But some of the competition goes even deeper. As rivers of champagne flowed at the inaugural reception (by kind permission, one hopes, of the French side) I engaged in conversation the chief steward of the British Concorde—a suitably high-ranking official with no fewer than four rings on his sleeve. Seeking to inject a note of sobriety into a boisterous occasion, I asked why it was that, standing among the VIPs on the tarmac as both planes arrived, it seemed to some of us that the French bird floated in rather more quietly than ours.
If I hoped to needle him, I needn't have bothered. With all the proper display of British phlegm (suitably touched with disdain towards all attitudes beyond Dover) the cockney steward explained :
You see, sir, it's like this—and this is just between you and me, and I wouldn't want it to go any further, if you see what I mean— but the fact is, so to speak, that we treat our planes like machines. We stick to the rules and we know what you should and should not do. You understand ? Anybody can come in quieter, if they want to stretch the rules a bit. All you have to do is to turn off the reverse thrust a bit sooner and put on the brakes a bit harder, like. Well, sir, begging your pardon, that may be alright for some, if you see what I mean. But, as for us, well, we'd rather make a bit more noise and go easy on the braking system.'
With a proper sense of competitive pride like that, one can't help feeling optimistic about Concorde's future.
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