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Time Travels with Truffle: Dateline November 2nd,
1947 – Long Beach, California
The following news story ran in the Los Angeles Time the
following day.
THE LOS ANGELES TIMES
Monday, November 3, 1947
HUGHES' GIANT FLYING BOAT TAKES TO THE AIR
"Spruce Goose" Silences Critics in Surprise
Flight Over Long Beach Harbor
By Aviation Correspondent
LONG BEACH, Calif., Nov. 2 — In a development that
astonished engineers, reporters, government observers, and skeptics alike, the
enormous Hughes flying boat known popularly as the "Spruce Goose"
successfully left the water yesterday under the personal command of aviation
pioneer Howard Hughes.
The giant aircraft, officially designated the H-4
Hercules, rose from Long Beach Harbor and flew approximately a mile at a
height of roughly seventy feet before returning safely to the water.
Among the handful of witnesses aboard the aircraft was an
unlikely passenger: a small reddish-orange Pomeranian named Truffle, who
has become a familiar companion around Hughes' aviation projects.
For years, the H-4 Hercules had been the subject of
ridicule, controversy, and congressional scrutiny.
Conceived during World War II, the aircraft was intended as
a massive transport capable of carrying troops and supplies across the Atlantic
while avoiding German U-boats. Because wartime restrictions limited the use of
aluminum, much of the aircraft was constructed from laminated wood, leading
reporters to nickname it the "Spruce Goose," although much of the
structure was actually made from birch.
The airplane's dimensions seemed almost unbelievable.
Its wingspan of nearly 320 feet remains greater than
that of any aircraft built before or since for many decades. The machine was
powered by eight giant Pratt & Whitney engines and represented one of the
most ambitious aviation projects ever attempted.
Yet by 1947, many Americans considered the project a
failure.
The war had ended.
Costs had soared.
Critics claimed the aircraft would never fly.
Some believed Hughes himself had become obsessed with
proving them wrong.
Yesterday's flight was originally expected to be little more
than a high-speed taxi test.
Observers lined the shoreline while reporters gathered
notebooks and cameras. Engineers monitored instruments. Government officials
watched carefully.
Inside the cockpit, Hughes reviewed the controls one final
time.
Nearby sat Truffle.
The little dog had spent months around the project,
wandering hangars and becoming a favorite among mechanics and flight crews.
Workers joked that she knew every rivet and bolt in the gigantic aircraft.
As the engines roared to life, however, even veteran airmen
admitted to feeling nervous.
The Hercules weighed more than 180 tons fully loaded.
No aircraft of its size had ever flown before.
No one knew with certainty whether it could.
Witnesses reported that as the flying boat accelerated
across the harbor, Truffle remained unusually calm.
The great machine skimmed across the water, gathering speed.
Then, to the surprise of nearly everyone aboard and ashore,
Hughes gently pulled back on the controls.
The enormous aircraft lifted free from the water.
For a brief moment, the impossible became reality.
The giant flying boat was airborne.
Reporters along the shoreline reportedly stared in stunned
silence before scrambling to verify what they had just witnessed.
Several engineers later admitted that they initially
believed they had misread the situation.
Yet there could be no doubt.
The Hercules was flying.
Inside the cockpit, Hughes focused intensely on maintaining
control of the massive aircraft. The flight covered only a short distance, but
it achieved the project's most important objective.
The airplane had proven it could fly.
Truffle, according to crew members, seemed entirely
unimpressed by the historic achievement. One engineer later joked that while
the rest of the world was watching aviation history unfold, the little dog
appeared more interested in the contents of a lunch pail than in the largest
aircraft ever to leave the water.
The significance of yesterday's flight extends beyond the
few seconds the Hercules spent in the air.
For Hughes, it represented vindication after years of
criticism. Congressional investigators had questioned the project's value.
Newspapers had mocked its delays and costs. Rivals predicted failure.
Yesterday, Hughes offered his answer.
The aircraft flew.
Whether the Hercules will ever become a practical transport
remains uncertain. Aviation technology continues to advance rapidly, and many
experts question whether flying boats represent the future of long-distance
travel.
Yet even skeptics acknowledge the achievement.
The largest flying boat ever constructed left the water
under its own power and returned safely.
That fact can no longer be disputed.
As evening settled over Long Beach Harbor, mechanics
gathered beneath the vast wings of the Hercules. Reporters filed stories.
Engineers reviewed data. Curious spectators lingered along the waterfront.
Nearby, Truffle dozed comfortably beside one of the giant
landing structures, seemingly unaware that she had just participated in one of
the most remarkable moments in aviation history.
One veteran mechanic reportedly summed up the day's events
best:
"Mr. Hughes proved the airplane could fly. The little
dog proved you don't have to be impressed by it."
Whatever the future holds for the H-4 Hercules, November 2,
1947, will be remembered as the day Howard Hughes silenced his critics and
lifted the world's largest flying boat into the California sky.
And once again, History is gently guided by a tiny paw.
