The Not-So-Golden Goose
The Spruce Goose, the HK-1, the
Hughes H-4 Hercules, or the Flying Lumberyard. Never in the history of
aviation has a plane that flew one time for all of 1.6 miles earned so
many nicknames. But when the plane is designed by Howard Hughes,
accompanied by Congressional investigations, and remains the largest
aircraft in the world more than 50 years later, you can see why there
was such a fuss made about the good ol’ Goose- and why it’s our Machine
of the Month.
The story of the Spruce Goose begins with – you
guessed it – World War II. Honestly, how many larger- than-life
machines did the world need to defeat a little guy with a little
mustache? Well, when that little guy is sending out U-Boats to destroy
U.S. ships carrying 800,000 tons of supplies it creates a need for
another mode of transportation. Enter Henry Kaiser, a world-renowned
industrialist and inventor of the “Liberty” line of ships. He proposed a
fleet of gigantic aircrafts that would transport large amounts of
supplies and weapons overseas.
The
only problem was he didn’t design or build aircrafts. Luckily, there
was a guy who built and designed aircrafts, along with his other hobbies
of movie-making, large company takeovers, and running back into the
house to make sure the oven was turned off. Howard Hughes agreed to
partner in the project, and designs for the HK-1 (Hughes Kaiser-1st
design) were underway.
The U.S. government awarded Kaiser and Hughes
$18 million to design and build the first operating HK-1. They told
them to hurry up and get going, but, in the theme of a reality game show
twist, they couldn’t use metal – on the biggest plane ever made, when
it is needed for a war.
Way to get the ball rolling, U.S.
Government.
Metal such as aluminum was in short supply during
WWII, and many industries felt the pinch in order to keep the troops
supplied with ammo and weapons. Ironically, the HK-1, was designed and
funded to keep supply chains intact, yet they were unable to use these
supplies, which delayed their production, which resulted in more losses
of supplies through U Boat attacks.
Leave it up to the genius
of Howard Hughes, though, to find a reasonable replacement for steel and
aluminum. Hughes secured the rights to use the “Duramold” process from
the Fairchild Aircraft Company. The Duramold process is the use of
thin sheets of wood lamination in perpendicular patterns. The spaces
between the wood are injected with plastic glue and the entire piece is
then heated and shaped until cured. This is a process that, while
invented by Fairchild Aircraft, was perfected by Hughes and his
engineers. Even today, this process is considered by engineers to be
both stronger and lighter than aluminum. This perfection took time,
though, and Kaiser left the project 16 months-in, citing governmental
restrictions and Hughes’ need for perfection.
In 1947 Hughes
was sure he had a super plane that could carry 750 troops or an M-4
Sherman Tank into battle. He had complied with all governmental
regulations and created a beast of a machine that included eight 3,000
horsepower engines, a massive fuel storage and supply system, and wings
20 feet longer than a football field. He named the final model the
Hughes H-4 Hercules.
The only problem was the war had been over for
almost two years. The press had a field day with Hughes, and renamed
the plane the Spruce Goose and the Flying Lumberyard. The Spruce Goose
was the name that stuck, and it was a nickname that Hughes reviled. “It
was made of birch, not spruce,” he said. “We don’t care, Goose,” they
replied.
The U.S. Congress, embarrassed about spending $18 M on
a plane that never saw the sky and amid intense media pressure, brought
Hughes to Washington to account for the appropriation of the funds and
the length of the project. After heated debates the congress adjourned
and Hughes decided to invite congress and the media for a test flight.
The initial test run was attended by multiple media members and began
with two taxi runs on the water reaching 90 miles per hour. Many
reporters left at that point to file their stories. Hughes surprised
everyone though, by taking off on the third run and flying 90 feet off
the ground for approximately 1.6 miles.
The Spruce Goose could
fly – he had proven that. And that was it. It never flew again.
Hughes
maintained the Spruce Goose until his death in 1976. It has changed
hands a few times since then, and was close to being disassembled a few
times. Through the help of some charitable historians and museums, the
Spruce Goose has remained intact and is currently on display at the
Evergreen Aviation Museum in McMinnville, Oregon.