By Larry Jolly
The story of building and flying this 10-ft.-span, Rossie .91 ducted-fan-powered 1/10-scale model of a Boeing 737-200 for filming the television movie of the Aloha Air disaster is no less fascinating than the movie itself. And when a model wins and Emmy, that’s unique!
As seen in the November 1990 and February 1991 issues of Model Aviation.
I’ll never forget that phone call last October. “Larry, this is Bill. Can you fly a 1/10-scale 737? A 200 or 400 series? A 400 would be better, easier to hide the fans. Nope, gotta be a 200.”
What movie-worthy events, I wondered, hanging up the phone, could possibly have a 737 involved? My mind raced. I knew of only one—the Aloha Air disaster. I don't think anyone will forget the horrifying image of that crippled airliner—the passengers strapped in their seats and the brave crew fighting to bring them back to safety, literally plucking them from death's jaws.
As many of you know, I have been active in the film industry for the past nine years, helping out with stunts that can't be done with full-size aircraft. My company, Larry Jolly Model Products (LJMP), consists of a team of dedicated modelers ready to take on each tough assignment as it comes along. The tale of one of our more exciting recent projects begins with the surprise of that October phone call. The project was called Miracle Landing.
After our team's initial meetings with the directors, it was decided that LJMP would produce the flying replica of the stricken Boeing 737 airliner. Since the movie was to be made for television, there were budget and time constraints. We would have 60 days in which to design, construct, and fly a 10 x 10-foot flying model of the crippled aircraft.
In addition, the budget dictated that, though it would play a crucial part in the film, only one model could be built. All flying, approach, landing, and taxi sequences would be done with our miniature. The director was finicky and a stickler for authenticity, so we couldn't fudge the damage to the aircraft. He reluctantly agreed to let us increase the size of the nacelles by 20%. The external detail had to hold up to the required tight shots. Finally, we had to produce a full crew and passenger complement.
On the plus side, the film company had a solid fiberglass 1/10-scale 737 that we could use as a plug for molding our own fiberglass parts. The plug was pretty close to scale and a big time-saver.
As with most of our projects, we delegated the work among the team in such a way that all the subassemblies came together at the same time, allowing us to meet our deadline. The engineering was accomplished by Jim Jolly, Kent McKenna, and myself. Bart Frazee made the molds and glass parts. Jim Jolly and Dennis Brandt made the nacelle plugs. Kent McKenna and Ken Williams cut the foam for the wings and stabs. At this point, Kent took on the wings and stabs and I took over the fuselage. With the rest of the team helping where they could, we commenced assembly of the airframe.
The model was completed in five weeks of spare time work. That is, we were all holding down full-time day jobs during the construction phase. The fuselage, nacelles, and vertical stabilizer were laid up in epoxy fiberglass with S-glass reinforcement where necessary. The fuselage weighed in at 11 pounds bare, which is outstanding considering that it is constructed in three sections and measures over 10 feet long and 16 inches in diameter. The S-glass was laid up longitudinally and around the barrellike formers. This reinforcement really helped stiffen the fuselage and kept the “oil canning” to a minimum.
Kent cut the wings and stabs from 2-pound white foam. It was decided to construct the wing in one piece to help make the model more solid and keep the weight down. Though it’s a fairly good-sized craft, the 737 has a comparatively small wing.
Ducted-fan operation, filming, and wing loading were constantly on our minds. The wing cores were cut in five pieces. Each wing had a center panel and tip and was mated to a center section that would bolt to the fuselage. Initially, the main center panel was tack-glued to the left and right center panels. We then added unidirectional fiberglass spar caps and sheeted the upper surface with 3/32 balsa.
We went in from the bottom and added a 1/2-inch full-depth spar that was constructed from 1/4-inch end-grain balsa capped on both sides with 1/8-inch plywood, with unidirectional fiberglass between the balsa and plywood. This main wing spar doubled as the main landing gear support. The rest of the wing was then constructed in standard foam-and-balsa format but always using unidirectional strips under the 3/32 balsa sheeting.
While we were building the airframe, Steve Korney of Hurricane Fans was building our powerplants. It was decided that we needed pulling power far more than we needed top speed. As a result, Steve suggested his six-bladed tractor fan unit, powered by Rossi .91s with Picco carbs.
The nacelles were designed with an internal firewall to accept the Hurricane fan unit. The bell mouth then slips into place and is secured with screws. The nacelles were made just large enough to take the Hurricane units.
The 737 model featured aileron, flap, throttle, retracts, rudder, and elevator functions. All control surfaces had their own servos for safety. For guidance, we used my trustworthy Futaba PCM eight-channel radio with 13 servos. Futaba's 131 helicopterstyle servos were used throughout, with the exception of the throttle control, which was handled by one S-33 for each engine.
The landing gear was a major concern, and I have to say we ran the gamut looking for the right units. Ultimately, we chose the Robart quarter-scale pneumatic units for the mains and a modified B&D manual unit for the nose gear. I can't say enough in support of those Robart mains. I should be put on trial over the abuse I subjected them to, but they never let us down and took everything we had to give them. Robart has a darn good product.
With the construction phase complete, we spent the last week detailing and finishing the model. My wife, Carolyn, took responsibility for the internal detail work, including the passengers and crew, who were modeled after the actors used in the filming. The wings and stabs were MonoKoted with aluminum and gray, with Coverite press-on chrome used for the slats and nacelles. I was initially skeptical of applying the press-on chrome to the bare fiberglass, but Greg Ford proved that, with a little practice, the film easily wrapped around the compound curves of the nacelles and stayed put. The fuselage was painted with K&B Superpoxy, and the trim stripes were accomplished with MonoKote trim sheets.
The completed 737 required no nose weight. Because those Rossi .91s have huge appetites, we ran two Sullivan 24-ounce tanks in the center of the fuselage and a 7-ounce Violett saddle tank in each nacelle. This gave us 31 ounces of fuel to each engine and approximately 9 minutes of flight time.
The day arrived for the first in-flight filming and we had yet to fly the monster 737. Our norm is to test-fly a model before filming, but the model was considered so important to the movie that we weren't permitted to test-fly it without a camera running. That's never going to happen again, as it caused a lot of undue stress and vast quantities of wasted time. Unfortunately, in this case, Kent, Ken, and I worked the last 42 hours straight to complete the model by the morning of the shoot.
We all met at Sepulveda Basin. Not only was I worried about the model, but I wasn’t at all sure that Sepulveda’s 400-foot runway would be long enough. Initial flight attempts were disappointing. While the 737 accelerated quickly, it would pitch suddenly and try to climb vertically as if tail-heavy.
I didn’t expect one-to-one performance with those screaming Hurricanes, and the elevator refused to lower the nose. At the end of that first day, we had a damaged nose gear and no successful flights over 8 seconds’ duration—very embarrassing and tiring.
Back at the shop that night, we all circled round our oddly lethargic creation. It was time for a massive head-scratching session. I don't remember who suggested that we check the tailplane incidence, but a quick check showed 10° of negative angle-of-attack. No wonder the elevators couldn't get the nose down! Since we knew we had calculated 5° of incidence, this meant that, in our haste, we had either miscalculated or mistraced the stabilizer datumlocating lines. Kent, Dennis, and I quickly reduced the stab's angle of attack. We had also arranged with the film company to fly the model in private over the weekend.
After spending most of a Sunday afternoon test-running the fans, we were convinced that power was not our problem, as each side was· developing over 14 pounds of static thrust. With that reassurance and the modifications and repairs complete, we raced to Mile Square to beat the sun as it sank quickly in the west.
A rapid assembly and preflight check showed that all was ready to go. Kent and Steve fired the engines while I was poised to get the ship airborne. No movie project, I remember thinking, had ever gotten the best of us, and though this 737 was trying pretty hard, it wasn't going to beat us.
I eased the throttles forward and signaled for Randy to release the plane. The 737 accelerated and the nose lightened just as before. After a ground roll of about 300 feet, I began to slowly rotate the model for takeoff. The nose came up and suddenly the model was off and accelerating. I lowered the nose a little to make sure the elevator was working. Applying forward pressure, I watched, reassured as the 737 followed my command and went to level flight.
With a loud cheer from those assembled, we were off. I was flight-testing one of the largest ducted fans to take to the air successfully. The 737 flew surprisingly well and was impressively responsive—so well, in fact, that no trims were required.
The sun was on the verge of setting, and I knew I'd have to land soon. On the third trip around the field, I reduced power and commenced a landing approach. The model suddenly veered left on the downwind leg, hitting me with that sick feeling that takes over when you realize you've lost control. Try as I might, the plane definitely showed symptoms of being in the fail-safe mode.
Miraculously, though, the 737 straightened out on one of the adjacent runways and flew into the ground—you couldn't call it a landing since there was no flare. It merely turned left, throttled back, and made ground contact in a slight left-wing, nose-down attitude. We couldn't believe it. Our emotions roller-coastered from joy to extreme dismay and back again. The model was damaged again, but at least we had achieved controlled flight. We knew she'd fly again.
Back to the shop. One shattered fan, the nose gear destroyed, scratches on the left wing. The fuselage, while not destroyed, looked pretty sad from the wing forward. The total repair, including painting, took four of us less than 16 hours to complete.
Futaba took a look at the radio and found a cracked receiver crystal. The crystal was changed and the rest of the system checked out. Though we can't be sure the system wasn't damaged in the crash, we can tell you that no further radio mysteries were encountered.
We were on! Sepulveda Basin was again the site for some approach shots and simulated flight in and out of the clouds. I wish you could have seen the Hollywood smoke machines in action. These Dynajet-powered babies vaporize kerosene into a thick white smoke, taking only a few seconds to put up a substantial smoke screen.
The game plan called for us to fly racehorse circuits around the field while the special effects guys put up broken smoke to simulate clouds.
The 737 was really behaving. It started, got aloft, and flew each time it was asked. I was even getting pretty comfortable with the model, despite the fact that it virtually took the whole runway to take off and land. The cameramen were doing artsy things and Kent and I were getting in a lot of 737 pilot and copilot time. But one thing made us a little jumpy. As it flew through the fake clouds, the craft would go IFR (instrument flight rules) for 5 to 8 seconds at a time. Ears tensed as we strained to keep track of the 737 in the dense, foglike conditions. Then it happened.
Booming out that everything looked great, the director told us he needed only "one more flight." I really wish he hadn't said that in earshot of ol' 723.
On the next takeoff, the model seemed just a tad slower coming off the line. Sure enough, just as it rotated for takeoff, the right fan died. Picture this monster, hanging in the air, nose high, right engine silent, left engine at full power—and without enough rudder to hold back the inevitable.
Talk about authenticity! Watching our model rotate to a nose-down position and strike the ground, the fuselage severing in front of the wing as the left nacelle detached and miniature bodies hurtled through the air, was like watching a full-size 737 crash. It was uncanny, almost morbid. We were sick. I was almost ready to give up.
Like an FAA Accident Investigation team, we went into action. Once each precious piece was recovered, our team again converged on the shop to figure out our next move. We decided that repairs were possible and that we should be able to accomplish them in the upcoming week.
Actually, repairs were mainly cosmetic. Using the unidirectional fiberglass under the wing skins had paid off handsomely. Though the model had hit hard twice, the wing structure hadn't failed. All we had to do was get the plane back to camera condition.
For the next film session, we were to go to Mile Square for landing and taxi shots. I was relieved because of the large amount of landing space available. For the first time, if we did have problems, chances were that we could get the model down.
During those last repairs, we had been desperate for time. My motivation being low at this point, I opted for hardware store Krylon rather than Superpoxy. When Kent saw me spray-canning over the repaired area, he shook his head. "Hey man," I adlibbed as he walked away. "The epoxy's not holding up. Once you lower your standards to Krylon, the model will last forever."
My paradox proved true. This was the day our 737 was made to see. The most difficult shots we'd been asked to do, like flying over the edge of the runway 3 feet above the ground, came off without a hitch. Imagine all that foam, glass, and Krylon scooting along at 80-mph-plus over the same ground track time after time. Then there were the landings. The model had to touch down within a foot of a white dot on the runway, with the camera zooming in tight for realism.
Mile Square wasn't closed, by the way, since we were flying off an adjacent runway under tightly controlled conditions. Sport-flying continued on the active runway, and there was no lack of interested helpers. Each of the 12 flights on that last day was picture perfect. Kent would light the fires, and the plane would accelerate, lift off, and fly. Steve Korney tracked the 737 at over 80 mph gear-down and over 90 mph gearup. We literally stopped traffic on nearby streets as drivers spotted what appeared to be a stricken airliner landing at Mile Square.
The last flight called for a diving sequence. Uncertain about the consequences of letting the 737 accelerate too much, I had saved this maneuver for last. We fueled up and took off. The landing gear was raised, the nose gear doors closed. Aloft, our craft flew with the precision and stability of a large Pattern ship. After a few passes for the camera to get some last-minute footage, we climbed the aircraft to somewhere between 500 and 1,000 feet. The 737 is a big model, so it was hard to tell exactly how high it actually was.
As the camera crews focused, I powered to half stick. The model dove for approximately 9 seconds, attaining an incredibly high speed. As I started to pull out, she began fluttering violently. Kent and I had never seen flutter like this before. The stabs, rudder, and left wing were a blur and airframe failure seemed imminent. But when we notified the camera crew that we had a real emergency in progress, they reacted by staying on the model. After all, the footage could be useful if the director had a change of heart and decided to rewrite the ending.
The model was shaking violently as I pulled all power and held on to the eleyator. She finally responded by slowly rounding out of the dive. The left aileron, obviously not connected to the servo any longer, was fluttering. I guided the craft through a 180° tum to the runway and pointed her nose homeward.
It's no exaggeration to describe the landing that followed as perfect. It was almost impossible to tell when the 737 stopped flying and the wheels started rolling. As the ship rolled down the runway nose-high, the director yelled the words a weary crew desperately needed to hear, "That's a wrap."
I had a hard time holding back tears as the ship slowed to a stop. We had done it. We had endured, overcome bad times, and accomplished what couldn't have been done any other way. Pushing the model back to the pits, Kent glanced over at me. "You obviously had too much aileron control before, huh?"
Two weeks later, the model was entered in the static competition at the IMS show. Kent spent the whole weekend explaining to interested spectators that we weren't twisted, that the model was built for a movie! I don't think anyone can look at that torn fuselage and not think of those poor, desperate passengers and the crew fighting to get them down. At any rate, after all that our 737 model had been through, a light finally shined her way. She was awarded first place in Giant Scale and Best of Show at IMS Pasadena. We really couldn't believe it.
I'm proud that model aviation was able to play a part in bringing this heroic episode to the screen. I am also proud of LJMP's team of dedicated modelers for sticking this arduous project out. They performed above and beyond what I would ever have asked of them. There were times when we had over 13 people working on the model. Though I haven't mentioned each of you individually, I want to express my gratitude for the part you played.
I hope you enjoyed the final product. After viewing Miracle Landing. I was able to review the FAA Accident Report on the actual incident. The movie was very accurate. Except for those pesky commercials.
If you read the above, you'll understand my thrill when the LJMP team, along with the experts at Introvision Studios, won an Emmy Award for Special Visual Effects.
After the string of misadventures that had bedeviled our first days of filming—followed by the glorious catharsis of our model's own perfect ''miracle landing''—it was especially gratifying to be honored in this way.
The 737 had been on display for nine months at Introvision Studios. A few weeks after winning the award, we flew our madefor-TV model at the San Fernando Valley Flyers Fan Fly. It performed like a champ—and won the Most Realistic Flight award. With most of the team on hand, the Emmy certificate on display, and hundreds of modelers watching (most had read the Model Aviation article), the day turned out to be a super homecoming for ol' 723.
I can't tell you how much it means to me that our LJMP team was able to achieve such a performance. Winning an Emmy with a model aircraft is bound to reverberate in a better public image of our hobby. I hope everyone who's interested in model aviation can share in-and ultimately benefit from-this award.
After all, Miracle Landing couldn't have been made except with a model. That makes me glad and proud.
Comments
Add new comment