It strikes me as a bit odd that both your husband and Mr. Craycroft had such an abiding dislike of jet-powered planes. Most scientists and engineers are avidly devoted to the idea of progress, and the advent of the jet certainly would have to be called progress, wouldn’t it?
It was rather like a religion with them, Mr. Skinner. As if they were Jews and a Christian missionary had tried to sell them on a new religion. I don’t think I can explain it more clearly than that.
I see. Well, in any case this lightplane factory in Palo Alto.…
Alpine Aircraft Company.
Yes. It produced highly advanced planes, but it was out of business by the beginning of nineteen forty-eight. How did that happen?
We were victimized by exploitive businessmen. The men who invested the capital to build the company were making these investments for tax purposes, as we learned later. They needed losses. They actually couldn’t afford for the company to make a profit. Can you believe that?
Very easily. It’s not unique by any means. Now, from nineteen forty-eight until nineteen fifty-three, your husband and your brother went separate ways, is that correct?
Yes, sir. My husband was with Lockheed. He worked mainly on improvements in the mechanical components of the Constellation. The company was making two jet fighters at the same time—the F-80 and the F-94—but Charles had nothing to do with those. We lived in Burbank, near the plant. In the meantime my brother returned to Alaska and worked for the airline there—in Anchorage and sometimes in Seattle—until the Reds invaded South Korea. He was called up and went to Japan. During the Korean War my husband, in the meantime, left Lockheed and we moved a few blocks to a new apartment in Sherman Oaks. We both went to work for the Knute Special Effects Company. I worked in the office there. In fact, I kept my job there even after Harold and Charles set up their own company to restore airplanes for the movies.
That was ACA—Air Corps Associates?
That’s right. They started the company in nineteen fifty-four. It became one of the most successful aircraft companies in the world.
It lasted some fifteen years?
Mr. Skinner, the company still exists and is still an important company. It was founded by my brother and my husband.
Yes, ma’am. But they were frozen out of it in nineteen sixty-nine?
Yes. They were victimized by greedy businessmen, once again.
Well, as I understand it, there was a dispute about moving into the jet market. Didn’t that have something to do with it?
Yes, sir.
All right, Mrs. Ryterband. I certainly don’t want to open up old wounds of that kind.
I had expected this meeting to be much more painful than you’ve made it, Mr. Skinner. I do appreciate your kindness—you’ve been very gentle.
Well, I’m afraid the painful part is yet to come. Now, at the beginning of nineteen seventy the three of you moved back here to New York—actually to Long Island. Both your husband and your brother joined the staff of Aeroflight Incorporated, a company owned by Samuel Spaulding. Is that substantially correct?
Yes, sir. Sam Spaulding was an old friend of Harold’s from the war days. Quite honestly, he worshiped Harold.
So I understand. But there really wasn’t too much for Mr. Craycroft or Mr. Ryterband to do there, was there? They regarded themselves as superfluous much of the time, I’m told. This must have chafed them, didn’t it?
They kept busy, I can assure you. But it’s true they sometimes felt they’d been shunted onto the sidelines. My husband made several forays outside the company, looking for something more suitable.
I wasn’t aware of that.
Oh, my, yes. We visited Beechcraft, Cessna, Ryan, and the Hiller Company. He even went to Canada to be interviewed by an odd little company in Saskatchewan that is building working replicas of the old Ford Trimotors. Did you know that’s still the most efficient airplane of its kind? For its weight and capacity it’s still a good economical craft. That’s why they’re making them again. Harold and Charles contributed a great deal to the design of that plane, you know—back in the thirties.
Yes, ma’am. But I take it none of these job interviews panned out?
Until just a very few years ago, Mr. Skinner, the aviation industry was still in the hands of the giants. The pioneers. They were old men, but honorable and highly creative. But today there’s a new generation. Money men, businessmen. As they’re fond of saying, the accent is on youth. By nineteen seventy my husband was fifty-eight years of age. To put it bluntly he was too old. Too old! Good Lord, sir, Henry Ford was still active in his seventies!
Yes, ma’am. Now, in June of last year Samuel Spaulding died, and control of Aeroflight passed to your husband and your brother?
In a manner of speaking.
In a manner of speaking? Could you explain what you mean by that?
They weren’t free to operate the company according to their own judgment, Mr. Skinner. If they had been, I’m sure the company wouldn’t have failed. But they had the lawyers breathing down their necks. The executors looking over their shoulders. The stockholders and directors carping at them incessantly—actually filing applications for court orders to inhibit our plans for the company.
Still, Mr. Ryterband and Mr. Craycroft had a proxy from Mrs. Spaulding to vote her controlling stock in the company, didn’t they?
Only in theory. Only on paper. Every time they tried to put a policy into practice, the minority stockholders would go into court. Several times they obtained restraining orders to prevent us from making vitally necessary moves while they pressed in court for a declaration that Mrs. Spaulding was legally incompetent. They never succeeded with that perfidy, of course, but their delaying tactics ruined the company. They all blame Harold and Charles for it, but the truth is they’ve only themselves to blame. They were greedy, shortsighted, and vicious.
Nevertheless, the company went bankrupt. A Chapter Eleven was filed in December of last year, isn’t that the case?
There was no choice. The stockholders were stupid people, Mr. Skinner. They knew next to nothing about the aircraft business. They were Wall Street businessmen who had bought the stock over the counter and suddenly began to regard themselves as aviation experts. Their folly was abetted by the New York State courts, which we all know are among the most corrupt and stupid courts in the world.
Was that how Mr. Craycroft and Mr. Ryterband felt about it?
What do you mean?
Did they blame the failure entirely on the judges and the Wall Street investors?
New York City is a pesthole of evil, Mr. Skinner.
Aeroflight was a sound company until the New York businessmen bought into it. Naturally we blamed it on them—the businessmen and their robed henchmen on the judges’ benches.
That’s a bit melodramatic.
The truth sometimes is.
Yes, ma’am, I suppose it is. One could hardly quarrel with that, in the light of what’s happened subsequently.
In Washington.
Yes, and right here in New York. I’m referring to the incident with your brother’s bomber.
I’ve been waiting for us to get to that, Mr. Skinner. I’m completely prepared to discuss it with you. You needn’t wear kid gloves. I want to bring it out in the open—I want to try and make you understand it.
I appreciate how painful it must be for you, Mrs. Ryterband.
Thank you. And I appreciate your gallantry. There’s so little of it in the world anymore. Good manners cost nothing, yet so few people seem to be able to afford them nowadays.
Well, I think we both understand that this isn’t a criminal hearing, Mrs. Ryterband. Nobody is being accused of anything, not formally. Our sole purpose is to ascertain the truth. Therefore, you can see it wouldn’t serve any purpose for me to be ill-mannered.
You’re very modest, Mr. Skinner. But I don’t believe you’re being kind out of ulterior motives. You’re a gentleman at heart. I can always tell.
Well, thank
you. But I’m afraid these next questions are going to be painful, no matter how gently I may word them.
You just go ahead and ask them. I’m a strong woman. I come from strong stock.
Very well. Now can you tell me if you had advance knowledge of their plans?
The scheme to get the money, you mean. Yes, they discussed it in my presence. But you must understand they were both dreamers. Particularly my brother Harold. He was always soaring on flights of fancy. I had no way of knowing they would actually put this one into practice. If I had known that in advance, I’m not sure what I’d have done, but I might have informed the authorities. I don’t say I would have, mind you. But I might have. I’ve asked myself what I would have done. But the truth is I just don’t know. I owed them both my loyalty. But, in spite of the provocations that drove them to it, it was unquestionably a terrible act. An immoral act, a criminal act. A terrible thing. But it’s so easy and cheap to evaluate these things in hindsight.
Yes, ma’am. At what point in time did you first hear them discuss this plan?
It must have been January.
Of this year?
Yes, of course.
That was just after the company went on the rocks.
It was just after the company was driven onto the rocks, Mr. Skinner. There’s an important distinction.
I understand. Go on, please.
They were bitter. There’s no denying it. Our whole lifetimes brought to this point—the injustice of it. I’m sure you can see how that could affect anyone. Anyone at all. Much lesser men than Harold or Charles.
They felt betrayed?
Betrayed, angry, bitter, exhausted. There are so many words to describe it. But none really expresses how they felt—how the three of us felt, really. I worked in the office at Aeroflight myself, you know. I was a member of the team right alongside them, shoulder-to-shoulder with them. I’d seen it through with them. They’d been such gentle beings all their lives, can you understand that? And here time and time again the callous petty criminals of this world had destroyed all the things we’d worked for. Not our personal fortunes or possessions—we didn’t care about those. But out of their unfeeling greed the businessmen had literally broken Harold and Charles. In his way Harold, particularly, was a very proud man. You must understand that.
Proud of his engineering talents, you mean?
Proud of himself, as an important pioneer in the field of endeavor which he championed.
I see.
Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Skinner. Harold didn’t want to lord it over anyone. He had no interest in usurping power over people. I sometimes thought that was his biggest mistake. He always complained that people in authority were incompetent to administer. But Harold never took the time to exercise authority himself, even when he had it. That was his primary weakness, I believe. By default he had made it possible—made it easy for the businessmen to destroy his life. But that certainly doesn’t absolve them from any responsibility for having destroyed him. He may have made himself vulnerable—but they were the ones who exploited his vulnerability.
Go on, please.
Time after time our dreams had been crushed by men with money. Men to whom money and power were synonymous. Harold and Charles wanted very little, really. All they wanted was the freedom to work. Inevitably, it seemed, that freedomlvas denied them. By incompetent superiors at first. That taught them they had to have their own company—their own workshop in which they could develop their own inventions without interference from bosses. But unless you’re very rich, you can’t establish your own company without outside investment capital. And as soon as you solicit capital, you have to contend with ignorant greedy investors.
Stockholders.
Exactly. No matter what we did, we were at the mercy of men with money. And men with money are men who will ruin you every time, without an ounce of feeling.
Well, that depends on whether they think you’re doing a profitable job for them with their money, doesn’t it? In any case, I gather what you’re saying is that your brother and Mr. Ryterband began to feel that they could obtain the freedom to work only by amassing a considerable fortune of their own, so that they wouldn’t be at the mercy of outside investors?
You put it very well, Mr. Skinner. That was exactly what they had in mind. They wanted money, because after all their experiences they had learned that in this world there is no other freedom. Not if you’re dedicated to a kind of work that requires expensive machinery.
So they decided to steal the money.
It wasn’t an out-and-out decision, Mr. Skinner. They dreamed aloud. To me that was all it was, until after it actually happened. I had no idea they would actually do it.
Weren’t you aware of the reconversion work your brother was doing on that old bomber? The work must have taken them months, if it was only the two of them.
You can believe this or not, as you please, Mr. Skinner, but not only was I completely unaware of it—my husband was equally unaware of it. Harold rebuilt that bomber completely by himself, with his own two hands. It was his secret until the very end.
Are you sure your husband didn’t know about it? Couldn ‘t he have been keeping it from you?
I’m quite sure. My husband never kept things from me.
I see. Then in fact Mr. Ryterband wasn’t let in on the plan until the last minute?
We were all let in on the plan very early, Mr. Skinner. But it wasn’t a plan then, don’t you see? It was a dream. A fantasy. It was as if they were composing the scenario for a movie. We played at it as if it were a game. “Wouldn’t it be fitting if we could get the money from the businessmen? They owe it to us.” It was that sort of thing, do you see?
Like children hatching diabolical plots against grownups whom they don’t like. The sort of plots that are worked out in great detail, but which everyone knows will never be acted upon.
Yes. You do understand. I knew you would. Don’t you see, children’s fantasies are like that—they can afford to be cruel because it’s all only imaginary. I know I for one indulged avidly in the fantasy. We would sit around gleefully imagining the consternation of those fat men in New York, pouring their perspiration out while a bomber circled overhead threatening to destroy them at any moment, and powerless to do anything about it at all! It sounds such a terrible confession to make, but can you believe we all sat around and laughed, just thinking about the expressions on their faces?
Yes, I can see that. It was a game of make-believe.
Oh, my, exactly, yes! You do see—you really do.
Yes, ma’am. I think so. Now, how did this scheme take shape, do you recall? I mean, how did the details develop in your minds?
I’m afraid it’s rather confused in my memory. You don’t hatch a make-believe fantasy full-blown. It grows, rather like a pearl—layer by layer. Detail by detail.
There must have been a kernel. An idea that triggered it.
Well, it must have been the idea—Harold’s idea—that there ought to be a way to get our money by using our own old airplanes. The very airplanes the businessmen had sneered at, as obsolete and useless. It was the attraction of that irony, I think.
And perhaps the idea of proving that a thirty-year-old Flying Fortress wasn’t quite as “useless” as the world thought?
Yes. That’s it.
I think I have a general picture of the origins of the scheme, Mrs. Ryterband. I wonder if we could shift our discussion to some concrete details. There are questions to which we still don’t have answers, and maybe you can help us there.
I’ll be happy to try.
Thank you. One thing that’s troubled us is the bombs your brother had in the airplane. They were real bombs, of course. But the question is, where did he get them?
He bought them. From the Air Force.
Openly?
My, yes. At one of the surplus auctions. Several years ago, actually. Of course he didn’t buy them originally to use them as bombs.
I beg your
pardon. What else could they be used for?
Why, scrap metal of course. The Air Force certainly isn’t about to sell real bombs to civilians.
I’m sorry. I’m confused.
The bombs were five-hundred-pound bomb casings, Mr. Skinner. The explosives had been removed, of course. They were simply empty casings. The Air Force sold them for scrap metal. Harold and Charles were always buying scrap metal, by the ton. Those old bomb casings were a good deal less expensive than new steel from a factory.
I’m beginning to clear it up in my mind, Mrs. Ryterband, but I still don’t understand how he obtained the explosives that he put in the bomb casings. I assume that’s what he did?
For anyone who works in industry explosives aren’t that difficult to obtain, Mr. Skinner. I have no idea exactly where or when Harold bought the explosives he packed into these particular bombs. But it should be possible for you to find out. I’m sure he bought it on the open market somewhere and made up a story about demolishing buildings or blasting out a new runway. He was known in the industry. No one would think twice about selling explosives to Harold. Now, as for the detonating devices and the other mechanical parts of the bombs, I’m sure he built those himself, either from the original specifications or from designs of his own. Such work would have been child’s play to Harold.
Yes, I’ve come to understand that much. Now there’s one further question I’d like to put to you. We know, of course, that they must have worked out a highly ingenious escape plan. I think it’s obvious, however, that we still don’t know exactly what that plan consisted of. I’m hoping that this part of the plan was discussed in your presence, as part of the make-believe you all participated in. Was it?
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