Secrets of the Spruce Goose

Flight Journal, Jun 2004 by Kirkland, Richard C

"Uh, what did you warn him about?" I asked.

Hopper hesitated, and I had the impression he suddenly realized that he had inadvertently revealed a secret. But he sort of shrugged it off and said, "We discovered a mistake in our aileron calculations at the last minute. Howard decided it would be OK for taxi tests, and that we would correct it later. But knowing how much he wanted to fly the Hercules, I warned him that whatever he did, he couldn't go over 130 knots or the plane might come apart."

"Wow! What did he say?"

"He just nodded and said, 'OK.' But I sat there behind him, sweating blood, as he started that last run. There was a chop on the water, and the sound of the waves pounding on that wooden hull and of those eight monster engines was deafening.

"One of the reporters had stayed aboard and was standing on the flight deck shouting out the airspeed as we roared down the harbor: 'Fifty; fifty-five; sixty; sixty-five; seventy ....'

"Then, suddenly it was quiet-as though you had just switched off a blaring radio. 'It's off!' someone yelled, and it was. The flying boat had lifted off the water so gracefully that I couldn't believe it. Howard was so surprised that he jerked the throttles off; then, realizing we were airborne, he pushed them up again until we had flown about a mile. He then gradually pulled them off and let it settle back into the water."

Hopper paused, and added quietly, "It was a profound experience. I was fearful yet wanted passionately for the Hercules to fly-and it did."

I was mesmerized and speechless for a moment, but I went for broke. "Thank you for sharing that great story with me, Mr. Hopper. Do you believe he will fly the Hercules again?"

Hopper smiled and said, "Just between you and me, Richard, the Hercules has had its day. It will never fly again."

I must have looked like a kid whose hero had just fallen off his horse. "But why is he having all that work done and spending all that money on it?"

Hopper looked at me. "Did you build model airplanes when you were a kid?"

I nodded.

"Did you ever build one that you really liked and kept?"

I nodded again.

"Well; that's the way Howard Hughes feels about the Hercules. He built it, and he flew it. He knows it will never fly again, but he's going keep it and pretend that some day, he will fly it again."

Crews worked on the Hercules in its climate-controlled, guarded hangar for nearly 30 years until Hughes' death on April 5, 1976.

In 1980, the Hercules was added to the National Register of Historic Airplanes and enshrined in a giant museum next to the Queen Mary in Long Beach, California. The Hercules remained there until October 1992, when it was transported in sections to the Evergreen Aviation Museum (www.sprucegoose.org) in McMinnville, Oregon, where it was eventually refurbished to its original condition and put on permanent display.