Special Report: Aircraft Safety

By Stephen Koepp

Until now, the stubby and squat Boeing 737 has been an anonymous little workhorse, scarcely recognized by airline passengers even though most of them have flown on one. Trusted by the airlines for its seemingly tireless reliability and efficiency on short hops, the "guppie" has become the best- selling jetliner in history. The 737 fleet, which now exceeds 1,500 jets worldwide, has carried more than 1.7 billion passengers and flown more than 10 billion miles. But last week the venerable plane was suddenly the most infamous and scrutinized of jetliners, as the Federal Aviation Administration ordered U.S. airlines to conduct special inspections for cracks and other signs of metal fatigue on older 737s.

The agency was responding to the April 28 accident in which an Aloha Airlines 737 landed miraculously in Maui, Hawaii, after an 18-ft. section of the fuselage tore away, like the canvas roof on a convertible, while the plane was going 330 m.p.h. at 24,000 ft. Though Pilot Robert Schornstheimer made the best of a terrible situation, the incident killed one flight attendant and injured 61 passengers. Many of them were struck by chunks of metal and insulation that kept peeling off the plane during its frightening descent.

Fearful that similar planes could be equally vulnerable to disaster, the FAA called for inspections of all 737s that have made more than 30,000 takeoffs and landings, which included as many as 291 jets operated by U.S. carriers. Of those planes, 36 that have racked up more than 55,000 landings were prohibited from flying above 23,000 ft. until they could be thoroughly checked out. At higher altitudes, the cabin must be pressurized to a greater extent and more strain is put on the fuselage. Among those airlines most severely affected by last week's ruling were American and Piedmont. After inspecting the damaged jet, Joseph Nall, a member of the National Transportation Safety Board, declared, "My hope is that it will raise the consciousness" of air carriers and regulators about the hazards of overworked planes.

Passengers were concerned as well. Not long ago, they were focusing their airborne anxiety on such problems as crowded skies, rookie pilots and overstressed controllers. Now they have a new concern: the soundness of the jets. Are some planes too old? Are others sent aloft with known malfunctions? The financial competitiveness wrought by deregulation has raised suspicions, deserved or not, that some carriers may be courting disaster by skimping on maintenance and diligence.

The Aloha episode is only the most dramatic of mechanical snafus that have ranged from clogged fuel filters to rusted-through floors to cracked turbine blades. Last month the FAA launched a special inspection of all jets operated by Continental and Eastern airlines in response to recurring accusations that their parent, Texas Air, the largest U.S. airline company, was cutting corners on maintenance because of its financial troubles. Even the reliability of new jets came under assault last month, when two foreign carriers, Japan Air Lines and British Airways, complained strongly about malfunctions on freshly assembled Boeing 747s and 767s.

The airlines will have to scramble to disprove the latest doubts, which could weigh heavily on the minds of consumers. Katherine Dallam, a 31-year-old computer-graphics entrepreneur in the Bronx, worries about flying because, among other things, she keeps hearing about "parts falling off the planes." Eastern has acknowledged a decline in bookings in the wake of the FAA probe, even though both that carrier and Continental expect the investigation to exonerate them. Ronald King, a Brooklyn school counselor, almost canceled two Eastern tickets for a Bahamas vacation with his girlfriend. Says he: "I had to stop reading the newspaper so I wouldn't get scared of getting on the plane." The airlines know well the devastating visual impact of a damaged plane. When the fuselage of an Eastern DC-9 cracked in half during a hard landing at Pensacola, Fla., last December, injuring three, airline workers quickly concealed the carrier's name with a tarpaulin. Similarly, Aloha employees hurriedly covered their company's logo on the damaged 737 by swabbing orange paint on the tail.

One fact airlines keep stressing is that air travel is growing safer. Fatalities in U.S. commercial-airline accidents declined from 2,669 in the years 1970-78 to 2,000 in 1979-87, even though total flight hours increased by one-third during that time. Moreover, the majority of accidents are attributed to pilot and controller errors and to bad weather. Mechanical faults have been blamed as a factor in only about one-third of such mishaps.

Yet the hazards of faulty maintenance have been amply demonstrated in several catastrophic crashes. The worst U.S. case was in 1979, when a replacement engine that had been improperly mounted on the wing of an American Airlines DC-10 broke free on takeoff from Chicago's O'Hare International Airport, causing a crash that killed 275. Only three years ago, the worst single-plane accident in history occurred when a bulkhead ruptured on a Japan Air Lines 747, destroying the tail assembly and sending the jumbo jet crashing into a mountain near Tokyo, killing 520. Boeing later admitted that its technicians had incorrectly riveted the bulkhead during a repair job seven years earlier.

The Aloha incident could obviously have been a far worse tragedy than it was. Inspecting the plane last week, the pilots and investigators marveled at the relatively small strip of cargo tube that held the plane together. In 1981 a 737 flown by Far Eastern Air Transport was not so lucky. It tore completely apart over Taiwan, dooming all 110 aboard. In both accidents, the plane's skin fractured on the top side just behind the cockpit.

Though the precise cause of the Aloha plane's fuselage failure will take months for federal authorities to determine, it is believed that metal fatigue created the stress cracks in the plane's laminated-aluminum skin. When the cracks ruptured, the air rushing by began to peel back the roof through the so-called rip stops, the rigid upright supports in the body shell. Investigators surmise that the metal fatigue was hastened by exposure to corrosive salt air and the exceptionally high number of takeoff-and-landing cycles, nearly 90,000, that the 19-year-old island-hopping plane had completed. The number of cycles is significant because each time a plane is pressurized, its metal skin expands slightly, which after a great number of repetitions can cause fatigue.

The plight of Aloha's well-worn 737 raises an issue that airlines would prefer to downplay: the growing age of their fleets. The longevity of U.S. jetliners has been creeping upward since the years before deregulation, in 1978, which was the last time airlines went on an industry-wide buying binge. Today the average U.S. jetliner is more than twelve years old, some 20% older than in 1980. Among individual carriers, the average age ranges from 8.4 years in Delta's fleet to 13.8 years in Eastern's, but many planes are more than two decades old. Some 220 of Boeing's mid-range 727s delivered in 1964-66 were still flying for U.S. carriers at the end of 1987, as were 272 of McDonnell Douglas' DC-9 models from 1966-68. Since deregulation, most U.S. airlines have been cautious about buying new planes, especially if the carriers are losing money. Says a former U.S. pilot: "Stand at the ramp at ((London's)) Heathrow and you will see all those new Boeings with foreign airline markings, and then in comes old Pan Am chugging along in an ancient machine." The average age of British Airways' fleet is 8 years; Air France's, 8.5; Swissair's, 5.5.

Industry executives and many other experts counter that a plane's age can be almost irrelevant to its safety. Said United Airlines President Stephen Wolf last week: "I don't think the issue is age. Aging fleets are no problem provided maintenance is diligent." In fact, United boasts one of the oldest fleets (average age: 13.6 years), which includes the first 727 ever built, No. N7001. Yet most experts give United high marks for the reliability of its planes, which is the result of its painstaking maintenance program.

To show how planes can last indefinitely, aircraft experts frequently cite the Douglas DC-3, the twin-propeller craft built in the 1930s and '40s. More than 1,500 of them are still doing cargo- and even passenger-carrying duty. Eastern Express, for example, uses DC-3s on its Key West-to-Miami run. But the low-and slow-flying DC-3 is not subject to the stresses of pressurization or jet-powered speeds. Says Richard Livingston, technical-operations director of the International Airline Passengers Association: "Have we been spoiled by the DC-3 syndrome? Is it realistic to say, 'Leave it in the system until it disintegrates'?"

Many carriers replace their aircraft long before safety becomes an issue, because they want planes that are quieter, bigger, more fuel efficient or more comfortable. But when a beleaguered airline can ill afford to buy new planes, it may also decide to scrimp on the upkeep of its old craft, which become more expensive to maintain as they age. Says an industry analyst: "Carriers are squeezing every dime out of the life of the aircraft."

Many industry executives freely acknowledge that they have tried to reduce their maintenance costs as much as possible without hampering safety. Although most carriers used to exceed FAA standards by a wide margin, they may have reduced that cushion somewhat. Says Consultant Melvin Brenner, a former TWA and American executive: "It's not cutting corners, because they were acting beyond the call of duty." True, modern planes are equipped with redundant systems for vital hydraulic and electrical functions, but the concern is that some airlines may be undermining that fail-safe philosophy by putting planes in the air without their backup equipment in full working order.

Today's hub-and-spoke route patterns, in which planes fly a greater number of short hops, puts pressure on mechanics to vouch for hastily repaired jets because taking an aircraft out of service for repairs can disrupt an airline's tightly woven schedule. At the same time, maintenance work often tends to pile up at the hubs, making the potential delays even worse. Says Robert Baker, senior vice president for operations at American Airlines: "Maintenance takes more thinking and planning than it used to." Comments Livingston of the passengers' association: "There is more of a frenzied feel to it."

Those who perceive a drop-off in maintenance tend to blame deregulation and the pressure it has placed on airline profits. Maintenance is expensive: when United performs a major overhaul on a 747, the job consumes almost 15,000 worker-hours and $2.5 million. During the first eight years after deregulation, from 1979 through 1986, the industry suffered gross operating losses of $7.1 billion, as opposed to $2.2 billion in profits in the previous eight years. Many airlines have bounced back, so that the industry as a whole should post operating profits of more than $2 billion in 1988, predicts David Sylvester of Kidder Peabody. But not all airlines are equally profitable. American, Delta, and United are well into the black, but Eastern and Pan Am are still racking up huge losses.

By far the sharpest charges of maintenance laxity have been leveled at Texas Air and its two struggling carriers, Eastern and Continental. In assembling the largest U.S. air company (market share: 20%) and making it the industry's discount leader, Texas Air Chairman Frank Lorenzo has tried to cut costs drastically. His pressure for concessions from unions at Eastern, especially on pilots and machinists, has prompted bitter accusations that the company is flying close to the edge. Pilots for Continental and Eastern claim they are given planes with problems ranging from broken gauges to leaking fuel tanks, while Eastern mechanics say their nonunion foremen frequently vouch for repairs that have not been made. Texas Air attributes ulterior motives to the unions. Says Bruce Hicks, a Continental vice president: "The war cry of 'Safety, safety!' has become the traditional union bargaining method."

Texas Air's only major crash occurred last November, when a Continental DC-9 flipped over in a snowstorm while taking off from Denver, killing 28. Though investigators suspect that accident may have been caused by wing icing and pilot inexperience, the company's airlines have suffered numerous mechanical problems. In one case last October, a worker inadvertently carried a 14-in. plastic duct past a running engine on an A300 Airbus, which sucked the part out of his hands and into its intake. According to the carrier's machinists' union, a mechanic wanted to take the engine apart, but a foreman overruled him, and four months later the engine blew up after the plane took off from Miami. The airline denies any connection between the incidents. In a separate episode in February, a Continental 747 taking off from London's Gatwick Airport abruptly lost power in one engine. The plane came close enough to a hill at the end of the runway that control-tower operators set off the crash alarms.

The growing clamor about Texas Air prompted the FAA to launch an unusual plane-by-plane inspection of the Eastern and Continental fleets (total planes: 636) last month along with a probe to determine whether Texas Air is financially stable enough to run its airlines safely. While the FAA found such violations as a faded red EXIT light, a frayed seat belt and a minor oil leak, the agency says it has uncovered no major problems during the investigation, which is expected to conclude next week. Texas Air believes the special inspection will exonerate the airline and win back public confidence. The checkup, Lorenzo predicted in a speech last week, "will put into perspective the misinformation and nonsense that's been peddled to the media, the FAA and Congress" by the company's unions. Yet Eastern's financial condition and Lorenzo's standoff with his workers are growing worse. Late in the week Eastern sued its pilots' and machinists' unions for $1.5 billion for trying to ruin the company financially in order to take it over at a bargain price.

Eastern and Continental are not the only airlines to go through a chastening | process. Texas Air's chief rival, Dallas-based American, was slapped with a $1.5 million fine three years ago by the FAA. Although the airline admitted no wrongdoing, it boosted its maintenance payroll by 3,000 workers, to 9,471 at present, and doubled the number of its repair stations, to 39. Nor is Chicago- based United immune to safety problems. Last week a United 747 with 258 people aboard barely reached Tokyo's airport on just one of its four engines after apparently suffering a malfunction of a fuel-distribution valve.

The safety of jets outside the U.S. varies from better to worse. Many airlines in South America, Africa and Asia adhere to standards lower than those in the U.S. But the northern European carriers, among them Lufthansa, KLM, SAS and Swissair, have been investing heavily in new planes and seem to be driven by what an industry expert describes as a "Germanic passion for technical perfection." Lufthansa, which already has a fleet averaging just 6.2 years old, last March ordered 20 new Boeing 737s and took options on 20 more at a potential cost of $1 billion. Also renowned: Australia's Qantas, which has not had a single fatal accident in more than 30 years, and Singapore Airlines, whose planes average less than four years old. JAL, in the aftermath of its 747 wreck, began assigning teams of mechanics to specific planes and, to instill pride, even inscribing their names on a plaque in the cockpit.

Despite the trouble spots in the U.S. industry, airline maintenance has become a sophisticated science when practiced at its best on today's increasingly complicated aircraft. The Boeing 747, biggest of them all, contains 4.5 million removable parts and 135 miles of electrical wiring. Mechanics have branched into specialties, complete with nicknames: "knuckledraggers" take care of hydraulic gear and bodywork, and "twidgets" handle sensitive avionics and other electrical gear. Mechanics now inspect as many parts as possible without removing them, and even have adapted a medical device used for colon examinations as an inspection tool.

Even new planes are not necessarily mechanically perfect. Before the embarrassment of the 737 incident, Seattle's prestigious Boeing was already beleaguered by complaints about quality control in its booming assembly plants. A fuel leak on a JAL 747-200 prompted the FAA to call for inspections of Boeing planes. JAL has been griping about other foul-ups as well, including temperature gauges wired to the wrong engines on 747 models. British Airways wrote a letter complaining about declining workmanship in general, reportedly contending that employees at one plant "seem oblivious that they are building aircraft where any mistake not properly corrected, or hidden, represents a direct compromise with safety."

In Washington the push is on for better inspection. Says FAA Chief T. Allan McArtor: "The FAA is not as flexible, as nimble, as responsive as it needs to be. We're doing a good job, but not as good a job as we could in this high- technology environment." The FAA's staff of plane inspectors shrank from 1,748 to 1,494 during the budget-cutting years of the early Reagan Administration, but is being expanded to about 2,300 this year and 2,700 in 1989. A blue-ribbon presidential panel recommended last month that the FAA be spun off from the Transportation Department and headed by a safety czar with increased powers. That proposal is expected to be examined in congressional hearings to begin within the next few weeks.

Ultimately, though, the responsibility for safety in the skies must rest with the airlines. After the shocking Aloha accident, every carrier will have to question once again whether it is devoting enough money and attention to making its planes as fit to fly as possible.

With reporting by Edwin M. Reingold/San Francisco and Richard Woodbury/Houston