Slipstream: the autobiography of an air craftsman

In Short

This autobiography traces the evolution of American aviation from the early, experimental days of the U.S. Navy to the massive industrial mobilization of the Second World War. Written by a central figure who transitioned from naval officer to executive in the aircraft industry, the book chronicles the shift from wood-and-wire biplanes to the dawn of global commercial transport. It serves as both a memoir and a defense of the "air craftsman"—the engineers and managers who navigated the complex, often volatile intersection of private enterprise, government regulation, and national security.

The Story

The narrative begins in the post-World War I era, where the author serves as a naval officer grappling with the technical and political hurdles of early aviation. His early career is defined by the struggle to prove the superiority of air-cooled engines over liquid-cooled models, a challenge that brings him into contact with key innovators like Frederick Rentschler. This period is marked by the clash between the rigid, traditionalist Navy establishment and the ambitious, competitive spirit of the burgeoning aviation industry. The author details the "five-year plan" for naval aviation, which secures government funding for research and development, allowing for the creation of iconic engines and aircraft like the Wasp and the Corsair.

As the 1920s give way to the Great Depression, the author faces a pivotal transition. Feeling the constraints of military service and the social pressures of the naval officer class, he resigns his commission to enter the civilian sector. He joins the effort to consolidate the struggling aircraft industry, turning his attention to economic stability and the development of long-range transport. This phase of his life is marked by the high-stakes gamble of building the S-42 flying boat, a project that demonstrates the potential for transoceanic commercial flight.

The story’s scope widens as the threat of war looms. The author describes the frantic scramble to industrialize, highlighting the ethical and practical difficulties of managing government contracts, navigating Congressional scrutiny, and balancing corporate profit against public service. He provides a candid look at the strained relationship between the government and private manufacturers, who are frequently cast as "merchants of death" despite their essential roles in providing the tools of victory. The narrative reaches its resolution in the post-war era, where the author reflects on the Berlin Airlift—an event he views as the ultimate vindication of the air craftsman’s original vision. He concludes that the airplane, despite its dark origins as a weapon of war, has finally matured into a vital instrument for peace and commerce, though he warns that the industry remains perpetually vulnerable to the "hazy atmosphere" of Washington politics and the red tape that threatens to stifle future innovation.

How It Unfolds

The naval apprenticeship The author recounts his early days in the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics, where he learns to navigate both the technical requirements of engine design and the bureaucratic rivalries of Washington. He finds a mentor in Admiral Moffett, whose political acumen secures the funding necessary to push aviation beyond the limits of current technology.

The shift to industry Disillusioned with the limitations of military life, the author moves into the private sector to manage aircraft production. He describes the grueling work of stabilizing companies during the economic collapse of the 1930s, prioritizing long-term research over immediate survival.

The wartime crucible As global conflict intensifies, the narrative details the massive effort to build new production facilities and satisfy the demands of both the French and British governments. This period highlights the tension between the necessity for rapid expansion and the desire to maintain ethical business practices amidst accusations of war profiteering.

The peace-time transition The final movement follows the industry as it attempts to survive the sudden cancellation of war contracts. The author focuses on the struggle to secure government-funded research as the only way to prevent the total collapse of American aerospace capabilities.

The People

Admiral Moffett stands as the towering figure of the book’s early chapters. A master of the political system, he provides the top-down authority needed to protect the nascent aviation industry from Congressional meddling and rival military branches. He is a man of "aristocratic bearing" who possesses a keen, competitive instinct for records and racing.

Frederick Rentschler serves as the author's primary counterpart in the civilian sphere. A suave, precise, and occasionally arrogant visionary, Rentschler drives the technological evolution of the engine, constantly pushing the author to accept higher standards and more complex designs.

The author’s wife is a quiet but steady presence throughout. She provides an intuitive, moral compass, ultimately guiding the author toward the decision to leave the Navy for civil life—a choice that allows him the freedom to pursue his career on his own terms.

Billy Mitchell appears as a foil to the naval establishment. The author views him as a disruptive, albeit important, figure whose aggressive attempts to dominate military aviation policy often conflict with the more methodical approach favored by the Bureau of Aeronautics.

In Its Own Voice

“When finally called on to respond, he refused point-blank. Later, in an anteroom off the banquet hall, he gave vent to intense bitterness: evil men had seized upon the airplane to make it the most lethal weapon in history; he hated everything about the airplane; he rued the day he and his brother had invented the thing.”

The author recounts Orville Wright’s reaction to the militarization of his invention.

“The slipstream that had sucked me into naval aviation had now blasted me out of the service I had loved, and into civil life.”

The author reflects on the defining moment of his resignation from the Navy in 1929.

“There never has been an airplane designed and built that wasn’t full of bugs. And you can’t delouse an airplane with insecticide. Instead you pick them out the hard way, like hunting fleas on a woolly dog.”

The author quotes “Dutch” Kindleberger on the harsh realities of aircraft engineering.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this is a book about the professional identity of the "air craftsman." It explores the tension between the creative, technical drive of engineers and the restrictive, political nature of the environments in which they work. The author argues that aviation requires a unique blend of scientific rigor and economic pragmatism. He is deeply concerned with the "unfavorable climate" created by government suspicion, which he believes often punishes the very industries that national security relies upon. Ultimately, the book questions whether a society can sustain the long-term, high-risk development required for technological progress when it is constantly distracted by the short-term politics of profit and blame.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of technology or the mechanics of military-industrial policy will find this book an invaluable, if dense, resource. The writing is precise and thoughtful, capturing the specific, gritty language of the 1920s and 30s with great authenticity. It offers a rare look at the business of aviation from the perspective of someone who operated at the highest levels of both the public and private sectors.

However, the reader should be prepared for the author’s strong, period-specific biases. His admiration for the economic policies of the 1920s and his frustration with government regulators reflect the mindset of an industrial executive of his time. The text can be demanding; it is filled with technical jargon regarding engine cooling and aircraft design, and the narrative frequently pauses for long discussions on economic theories and bureaucratic processes. Those looking for a swashbuckling aerial adventure may be surprised by the book’s administrative focus, but those who appreciate the story behind the machinery—the long, difficult process of turning a "starry-eyed crusade" into a stable industry—will find this a deeply rewarding, if challenging, historical record.