The Great DC-10 Mystery

After weeks of investigation, French and U.S. officials believe that they have pinned down the cause of history's worst air disaster: the March 3 crash of a Turkish Airlines DC-10 just outside Paris that killed 346 people. An improperly sealed rear cargo door burst open in midair, and the loss of pressure in the cargo hold caused the plane's still-pressurized passenger cabin to buckle downward into the cargo compartment (see diagram). Passengers began spilling out of the plane, control cables to the rudder and stabilizers were fouled, and the plane crashed into a forest 13,000 ft. below.

But why did the cargo door come open? Investigators are not yet certain, but some suspect that it was possible for the door to appear fully locked when it was not. The events leading up to the crash, as disclosed in subsequent investigations that culminated in two days of congressional hearings last week, make a story almost as shocking as the disaster itself--and much more mysterious. It raises disturbing questions about the safety procedures at McDonnell Douglas, the maker of the DC-10, and about the practices of Government aviation safety regulators. The story in brief:

In June 1972, a cargo door blew out of an American Airlines DC-10 over Windsor, Ont., though the crew managed to land the plane safely. After investigation, the National Transportation Safety Board sent a number of recommendations to the Federal Aviation Administration for implementation as an "airworthiness directive." The directive, a drastic order with compliance supervised by the FAA, would have forced McDonnell Douglas and airlines flying the DC-10 to make certain design changes in the cargo door.

No Explanation. Executives at McDonnell Douglas, however, talked the FAA out of issuing the directive. Instead, the company was permitted to send out its own "service bulletin" recommending some less fundamental changes than the NTSB wanted. McDonnell Douglas was supposed to modify the doors of planes still on its assembly line, as the ill-fated Turkish Airlines DC-10 then was. Three inspectors signed records indicating that the modification was made on that plane--but Douglas Division President John Brizendine conceded last week that it was not. Why not? "We do not yet have an explanation," he said.

That is startling indeed. Until the crash, both the DC-10 and its maker had enjoyed high reputations. The DC-10 went into service in August 1971, and had a safety record above average for a relatively new aircraft. Thirty-one airlines now fly a total of 128 DC-10s; passengers praise the craft as spacious and quiet, and the FAA says that they are all safe (the agency finally issued its airworthiness directive about cargo doors on March 6, three days after the Turkish Airlines disaster).

McDonnell Douglas, formed by a 1967 merger, has consistently been one of the most profitable firms in the aerospace industry. While most competitors were just beginning to recover from a three-year-old slump, McDonnell Douglas profits last year rose 16% to $129.5 million, on sales of $3 billion. Unlike Lockheed and Grumman, the firm has avoided massive cost overruns on its Government contracts, through good luck and tight financial controls. Unlike Boeing, which has been concentrating its efforts on commercial airliners at a time when the airlines have too many seats and not enough passengers, McDonnell Douglas keeps about a fifty-fifty split between Government and commercial work. Its F-4 Phantom fighters are a mainstay of the U.S. Air Force, and the air arms of several other nations as well. Aerospace industry executives find it inconceivable that McDonnell Douglas would jeopardize its prestige by cutting corners on DC-10 safety.

Why, then, did the company oppose an airworthiness directive to improve the cargo door after the investigation into the Windsor incident and request less fundamental changes instead? McDonnell Douglas has given no official explanation. One reason may have been to avoid bad publicity for the DC-10, which was then a relatively new plane.

Another question is why the FAA acceded to the company's request. Former FAA Administrator John Shaffer, who dealt with McDonnell Douglas, says that a service bulletin is as effective as an airworthiness directive. That view seems questionable. House subcommittee records indicate that several planes were still not modified eight months after the bulletin had been issued. The bulletin did spell out clearly how an airline could take precautions to make sure that the cargo door was locked. They included fitting a support plate on the door, installing a window in the door so that a ground-crew member could tell if the latch hooks were properly engaged and posting locking instructions clearly in English. Tragically, as French investigators discovered last week, the ground crewman who sealed the door on the Turkish Airlines craft could not read.

More Backbone. To some critics, the incident seems characteristic of the way the FAA operates. The National Transportation Safety Board says that only about half the design changes it recommends ever become airworthiness directives. Critics complain that the FAA worries too much about the impact of its actions on industry profits. But Alexander Butterfield, the FAA administrator, has lately won praise for putting more backbone into the agency.

With the windup of the congressional hearings, the matter now moves to the courts. Relatives of two victims in the Paris crash have filed suits against McDonnell Douglas asking damages of $10 million. More suits are expected. The trials may force out answers to the remaining mysteries in the case--especially the question of why McDonnell Douglas records showed a door modification that had never been made.

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