Final Approach

by John J. Nance

  Dean Farris took his seat at the witness table as Beverly took a chair beside him, facing the curved, single-tiered dais which at varying times during the typical Senate hearing would accommodate from one or two senators up to a dozen, with waves of staff members ebbing and flowing behind them in accordance with the daily tides of Senate business.

  The Air Line Pilots Association’s president had already testified, supporting the bill, as had the Air Transport Association and the Regional Airlines Association. Executives from two commuter airlines had added their stories of truncated NTSB investigations due to budgetary constraints, and a senior vice-president of Amtrak had submitted a written statement in lukewarm support.

  But the star the media had been waiting for—had been told in confidence they should wait for—was Dean Farris. And after some introductory niceties and Farris’s formal statement, which had been drafted by Beverly and several other staffers, Farris looked up at Kell Martinson and four other senators. “I’ll be happy to entertain any questions at this time.”

  “Chairman Farris,” Kell began with a friendly smile, “first of all, let me call you Mr. Chairman, and for the sake of not getting us all confused, instead of you calling me Mr. Chairman, just use Senator, okay?”

  “Certainly Senator,” Farris replied, smiling. This was going to be easy.

  “I might also add”—Kell looked to his left and his right, making eye contact with the three other senators present—“thanks to the generous agreement of my colleagues, and having studied this issue extensively in preparation for submission of this bill, I am going to do all the preliminary questioning, then give the other subcommittee members their chance.” Kell looked back at Farris. “Now Mr. Chairman, are you familiar with the Independent Safety Board Act of 1974?”

  Farris answered that he was, and outlined the general aim of the act as Beverly had carefully briefed him.

  “Mr. Chairman, would you say that the NTSB as it operates today fulfills the promise and intent of that act?”

  Farris looked puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Senator.”

  “Well,” Kell began, “we agree the legislation tried to keep the Board from being influenced by outside political forces, or any other forces. It tried to make sure that interested parties would have no ability to sway the decisions on accident causation. So, Mr. Chairman, you’re the head of the thing? Does it work that way?”

  Farris smiled and nodded. “Certainly does, Senator. Our decisions are our own. There is no ability on anyone’s part, whether in the political arena or the corporate community, to push us.”

  “Does anyone try?” Kell asked.

  “Well, I’m sure from time to time in the middle of an investigation, since we have so many civilians actually working with us on these investigative groups, people attempt to argue from a parochial point of view, but in the end, with a well-balanced panel, we still get the truth.”

  “Do you now?” The sharpness of the question echoed like a rifle shot. Something about Senator Martinson’s tone triggered a warning bell in Farris’s mind, slowing his response ever so slightly. “Yes, we do.”

  “Well then, Chairman Farris, there are some things which have come to the subcommittee’s attention which I’d like to ask you about, and the first concerns the tragedy in Kansas City, the North America crash.”

  “Okay.”

  “North America has a company doctor named McIntyre, is that correct, Mr. Chairman?”

  “I believe he is a company doctor, yes, Senator.”

  “Now, within a week of the Kansas City crash, some of your investigators contacted Doctor McIntyre, I believe, and asked him for certain records. Is that right?”

  “Well, as I recall, probably.”

  “And Doctor McIntyre apparently asked his company to block that request, and at one point North America threatened to go to court to get an injunction against the NTSB’s seeking those records, which, if I have it right, were the medical records for the captain that crashed Flight 255 in Kansas City, that captain also being the airline’s chief pilot and a staff vice-president. Is all that correct?”

  Beverly had been watching Dean Farris as the blood began to drain from his face. She could see his vocal muscles constricting, and she forced a look of puzzlement when he glanced in abject alarm at her as Kell continued in an even, friendly tone of voice. “Now, Mr. Chairman, obviously your investigators wanted to see those records, which was probably a logical thing to want to do, and North America officially did not want to give them up, or they surely wouldn’t have taken the extraordinary step of going to court. In a case such as this, isn’t it important for the Board and their investigators to be unrelenting? Isn’t it important that the public know they cannot be scared away from a legitimate inquiry when innocent passengers have died in a mode of public transportation? In other words, if the investigators in their wisdom think they need to see those records, shouldn’t we have the assurance that no one will be allowed to block them?”

  “Yes … uh, of course. I don’t understand—”

  “Bear with me, please, Mr. Farris. Now …” Kell shuffled some of the papers in front of him and made some notations, letting Farris sweat. “Do you recall a few years back when there was that terrible Amtrak accident north of Washington in which the Conrail engineer, who was found to be under the influence of drugs, ran in front of a high-speed Metroliner?”

  “Yes, Senator, everyone does. What does that have to do with North America?”

  “Well, let me just ask you a hypothetical question, Mr. Chairman. If you had been chairman at that time, and the president of Conrail had called you—which I do not suggest he ever would, this is a hypothetical question—but let’s say he did call and said, ‘Dean, please call off your dogs. You have my assurance that Conrail’s personnel did nothing wrong. Don’t harass the poor engineer anymore.’ Now, would that be wrong, Mr. Chairman?”

  “Of course. The man was, as you say, found to be on drugs, he—”

  “Yes, but—” Kell smiled and held up a hand to stop Farris, whose voice had risen in pitch a bit, “what I’m asking, sir, is whether it would be wrong for the NTSB chairman to actually agree to do what the railroad leader was asking?”

  Farris knew where he was being led, but it was like sliding on ice; he had no traction, no way to stop. “It would, of course, be wrong, Senator, for him to actually stop his people from investigating, but in the normal civility of a conversation, you know, the railroad man might have the impression he had come away with some concession when he hadn’t.”

  Kell tapped his chin with a finger and squinted. “You mean, he might make the railroad president think he’d back off, but not really do it? He wouldn’t talk to his investigators?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I gather it would be wrong for him to actually talk to his investigators and say, ‘Back off’?”

  “Yes, of course it would.”

  “Would it be wrong of him to even relay the conversation to his investigators, knowing they might take that as a signal to back off?”

  “Your hypothetical situation is getting rather deep, Senator. A Board chairman like myself can’t know for certain how someone is going to interpret something.”

  “That’s exactly my point, though, Mr. Chairman. Since the investigator who has to poke around this railroad may be too impressed with the power of the railroad’s president for the investigation’s good, wouldn’t it be taking a risk to even mention the phone call to an underling because that could influence him to pull punches, not ask for records, not seek depositions, or even stop pushing for medical records central to the case?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Just perhaps?”

  “No, I mean I do agree,” Farris said.

  “Good. I’m glad you do. But that, then, troubles me.”

  Farris gave Kell a puzzled look. “I beg your pardon, Senator, was that a question?”

  “No sir, but this is: Isn’t it true that amon
g the many telephone calls you got in the days after the North America crash, one of them was from Mr. David Bayne, chairman and CEO of North American?”

  Seconds passed with Farris frozen in place before he leaned into the microphone to answer. “Yes, Senator, Mr. Bayne called me. That’s not at all unusual.”

  “His airline had two planes in that crash, of course, and his chief pilot might be the cause of it, and he calls you, and that’s normal?”

  “It’s not abnormal.”

  “What did you two gentlemen talk about?”

  “The general progress of the investigation, of course.”

  “I see. Did he mention Doctor McIntyre?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes he did, in fact. In fact, he asked you to call off your dogs, didn’t he? He asked you to tell your people to stop harassing the poor doctor, who by that time they had sent on a hurried vacation to Canada because he had become so scared. Is that correct?”

  Farris put his hand over the microphone and leaned toward Beverly with a whispered command. “Get the staff counsel over here fast.”

  “I can’t. He’s out today,” she whispered back innocently. Farris turned again to the microphone, looking nervously at Kell.

  “Senator, I don’t know where you got all this but—”

  “Oh, Mr. Farris, don’t you worry about our sources. They will be placed under oath as necessary and their recollection of what you told them—and I emphasize the plural—will go on the record, too. We’re talking about undue influence here. The airline chief calls you, asks you to call off your dogs, and what did you say?”

  Farris’s mind raced through possible answers. It was obvious he was alone, Beverly had made no move to help him, to whisper in his ear. How could this have happened? He should have brought the Board’s lawyer, the staff counsel. He saw the TV cameras and radio microphones. He had seen David Bayne behind him in the audience. Martinson was talking about multiple sources for that story. How could he deny it? He couldn’t just lie to Congress. In fact, wasn’t it a crime? A glimmer of a possibility locked into his head, and he looked up at the senator and tried to smile, though he was shaking inside. “Senator, obviously some disgruntled employee or employees of mine have come to your staff with some gross misinterpretation, and perhaps misunderstanding, of what occurred. Yes, David Bayne called me, and yes he pressured me rather substantially to back off, saying his physician was really spooked and in a bad way because of the pressure. Now, I warned him I could not and would not call off my people, but I would certainly make sure that they were civil to the doctor. Since this was the very first week of the investigation and there was time, and since we want the general cooperation of the airlines in a crash investigation, I’m not going to tell him to go to hell. I’m going to do what I did, assure him that my staff will treat the doctor properly, or words to that effect.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what, Senator?”

  “Did you instruct your staff to treat the doctor properly?”

  God, how much does he know? Farris thought frantically. That’s the problem. Wallingford had probably started all this, so anything he said to Wallingford would now be in front of the Senator. “I instructed my investigator-in-charge, Aviation Accident Bureau Chief Joseph Wallingford, to accept the reality that the doctor was out of town, and to wait for him to get back before they pursued the matter of the records. They had tried to track him down in Canada on vacation, for heaven’s sake. I, well, now as I remember it, I believe Bayne said one of his people, John Walters, would provide the records, and so there was no need for the doctor.”

  “Isn’t it true that Mr. Wallingford, and the head of your human performance group, wanted to interview the doctor?”

  “Well, in time I’m sure …”

  “Isn’t it true, Mr. Chairman?”

  “Maybe at that time.”

  “Isn’t it also true that you told Mr. Wallingford, and I quote—”

  Here it comes, Farris thought to himself. This is where all this originated, that goddamn Wallingford!

  Kell continued, quoting from the paper in his hand: “You said to Wallingford, ‘I have assurance from North America they can give you whatever you want and I have given them assurance the harassment would stop, so you leave the doctor alone’?” Kell had been reading from a piece of paper, his half-frame reading glasses balanced on his nose. He left them that way as he looked up, peering over the top of them at Farris, watching the man squirm.

  “Senator, I probably said those words, but you’ve got the whole thing out of context.”

  Kell Martinson reached up with his right hand and took hold of his glasses, removing them across his face with a small flourish while staring at Farris, holding the glasses like a prop. He had watched so many excellent trial lawyers use the gesture, and it worked well. In one small movement he had told Farris and the world that the NTSB chairman’s last answer was unbelievable. “Out of context, Mr. Chairman?”

  “Yes.”

  “You assured North America that the harassment would stop, and that’s out of … well, let’s go on, shall we?” Kell put the glasses on again and looked at the paper again. “Did you also tell Mr. Wallingford—just before the start of the December Board of Inquiry in Kansas City, by the way—did you also tell him that, and I quote again, ‘If you so much as breathe that physician’s name again without my written permission, you can kiss your job with this Board good-bye’?”

  Farris sat stone still without answering.

  “Well, sir, are those words yours, and are they out of context too?”

  “Again, Senator, I may have said those words, but in the context of trying to keep my employees from going too far in pursuing this doctor.”

  Kell summarized the actions taken by Joe and Andy Wallace to talk to McIntyre and get his records. “You consider that harassment?”

  “It could be considered harassment, yes.”

  “It could be,” Kell said, “by a company that had something to hide.”

  “You could read it that way, yes.”

  “And since you’re supposed to be looking for the truth, why were you saying these things to the investigator-in-charge?”

  Farris took another deep breath, squared his shoulders, and slightly overboosted the microphone trying to sound confident. “Well, Senator, I don’t expect any layman to fully understand how we do things, but a certain amount of discretionary authority is necessary in my position, and I exercise it even if I have to take the heat for it later on. Now, you’re characterizing all this as if I were trying to help North America hide from responsibility. You can twist it however you like, but all I was attempting to do was rein in some overzealous investigators of mine who were, in fact, harassing an honest doctor.” Farris swept his right hand through the air. “Dr. McIntyre’s friends were just concerned that we’d been too harsh with him, okay?”

  “Oh, okay, I see now. Then these were people simply concerned that you’d overstepped the bounds of propriety … people other than David Bayne?” Kell asked him in a conciliatory voice, as if the problem had been solved by that revelation.

  “Yes, you’ve got it, Senator.” Farris said, visibly relaxing. “I mean, even Bill Caldwell of the FAA, who’s a friend of his too, called and pleaded with me to call off my dogs.”

  Dean Farris’s words had stopped echoing around the hearing room before he realized what he had done. The reaction from the subcommittee members, the staff members, the knowledgeable people in the audience, and a particular FAA associate administrator watching the C-SPAN broadcast from his office at 800 Independence Avenue, was subtle but decisive. Dean Farris had just stabbed Bill Caldwell in his professional heart.

  “For the record, Mr. Chairman,” Kell said, “that was William Caldwell, associate administrator of the Federal Aviation Administration here in Washington, who called you to intercede on behalf of an FAA-certified medical examiner, Dr. McIntyre, a North America employee, then under NTSB investigation as the
flight physician who had for many years certified the medical qualifications of the captain whose actions may have been at least one of the direct causes of the terrible airline tragedy in Kansas City three months ago? Is all that correct?”

  Cold fear had gripped Farris as he recognized the depth of his gaffe. It took two tries to get an answer out, the first one too soft for the microphone to pick up. “Yes, Senator.” There was nothing more he could say that wouldn’t make it worse. Damn, damn, damn, damn! Caldwell would never speak to him again, of that he was certain.

  It went downhill for Dean Farris from there. Kell guided him into a rambling, revealing series of answers about North America’s attempt to get the NTSB to back off probing the management climate at the airline. His statements to Joe, his trip to Kansas City, the transcript of his remarks from the head table—all wove a heavy noose of evidence and circumstantial presumption that Dean Farris had not only let North America influence him, but also had led him to whipsaw his investigators in general, and Joe Wallingford in particular, trying almost frantically to thwart a deeper probe into why Dick Timson had pushed the control stick forward in Kansas City.

  Farris was almost inaudible by the time Miami Air came up.

  “Mr. Farris, did anyone, and I do mean anyone, outside the NTSB call you or communicate with you in such a way as to request, directly or indirectly, that the NTSB should back off a deeper investigation of the quality of maintenance at Miami Air?”

  Farris hesitated just long enough to raise eyebrows, and another senator jumped in. “Chairman Farris, with Senator Martinson’s approval, if it would make you feel better about unhesitating truthfulness, we could have you sworn in. We don’t like our witnesses to feel uncomfortable, sir, and I see you spending more and more time considering your answers to very simple questions. Now, since I’m sure you wouldn’t be contemplating telling us anything but the truth, I can only conclude that perhaps it would help to be able to say to whomever you might need to say it to, ‘I was under oath, I had no choice.’ Would that help?”