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| Aviation Pioneers Captain Jeppesen and Wayne Rosenkrans | Mar '07 |
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| By Robert B. Schultz, Attorney at Law |
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While most people have heard of such aviation pioneers as the Wright brothers, Charles Lindberg and Chuck Yeager, few outside the aviation community have ever heard of Elrey Jeppesen or Wayne Rosenkrans, or even the business Jeppesen founded and Rosenkrans ran for 22 years. Some, including myself, would argue that Captain Jeppesen contributed more to aviation safety that any other single person. Captain Jepp didn't just start an aviation chart publishing business—he literally invented instrument approach and departure procedures. He did this for safety reasons—his own safety—while flying mail in open-cockpit biplanes.
A book was recently published chronicling Captain Jeppesen's life. "Capt. Jepp and the Little Black Book," by Flint Whitlock and Terry Barnhart, tells the story of how a 14-year-old boy fell "madly, deeply, hopelessly in love" with Jenny, a World War I flying machine. The boy grew up to become a barnstormer, mail pilot, airline pilot and entrepreneur. The book is filled with barnstormer and early airmail stories and also chronicles the early development of instrument flying, from chains of lighted beacons and fires to radio ranges.
"Jeppesen was one of the first pilots to rely on his cockpit instruments," say the authors. "Of course, back then, most aircraft had limited instrumentation—usually just an altimeter, airspeed indicator and a bank-and-turn indicator—if they had any at all."
Today, we call that "a partial panel," which we're required to learn to use in the event of an emergency. Those were all the instruments in the Piper Cub I learned to fly in the '60s. But I didn't go punching through clouds—well, maybe I did, but the statute of limitations ran out a long time ago.
"Navigation at the time was still pretty much performed the way the early pioneers heading west in their Conestoga wagons did it; you saw where the sun was and figured out the four points of the compass," quoting from the book. "Then you picked out some feature on the horizon—like a mountain or hill or grove of trees—that was in the general direction you wanted to go, and you guided your horse or oxen in that direction. Flying was much the same. You took off, figured out where north, south, east and west were, looked down to find a road or set of railroad tracks heading in that direction and aimed your aircraft toward the horizon."
We used to call that IFR: "I follow roads." In western Ohio, which has no hills or mountains, we simply flew low enough to read road signs. We identified cites by the names on water towers.
Once pilots got the knack of keeping the airplane upright in the clouds, getting from point to point became less of a problem. Letting down through the soup was the more dangerous part. So Captain Jeppesen decided to create his own airport diagrams.
"In his spare time, whenever he landed at airfields, Jepp would wander over to landmarks and begin pacing off the distances and estimating heights," the authors wrote. "He bought a spare altimeter and, when he had more time, would climb the hills, smoke stacks, silos and water towers with it, to get an accurate measurement of their heights."
Jepp wrote all this information in what came to be known as his "little black book," a small ring binder. Many pilots asked him for copies of his book.
"In 1934, it finally dawned on him that he was providing a valuable service for free," according to the book. "Why not charge a little something for his time and effort?"
The rest is history.
I began representing Jeppesen in 1985. Then, the Times Mirror Company owned the company, and Captain Jeppesen was no longer associated with it. I worked with another person even less well known, who was also an aviation pioneer. Wayne Rosenkrans, a World War II fighter pilot, joined the company in 1945 as a draftsman. He worked his way up and became president, a position he held from 1966 until his retirement in 1988. Wayne presided over a period of enormous expansion and transition, moving from hand-drawn charts to computerized charting.
I first met Wayne when he was my star witness in a case I tried against Jeppesen in 1986. This trial stemmed from an accident that occurred in 1972. While circling to land on an instrument approach, a Lockheed Jetstar, carrying two pilots and a flight attendant, in a blinding snowstorm, struck a hill in Saranac Lake, N.Y. The plaintiffs claimed the accident was Jeppesen's fault because its chart failed to depict the hill, while showing a lower hill nearby. In those days, approach charts showed a five-mile circle around each airport. Since both hills were within five miles of the airport, the plaintiff claimed that the chart was misleading because pilots thought the highest elevation within the circle was always shown. That was never true. Even Wayne Rosenkrans couldn't remember why five-mile circles were displayed on the charts. The circles probably depicted airport traffic areas, which had no relevance to instrument flight. We won the trial, but the five-mile circles have since been removed from Jeppesen charts.
Robert B. Schultz practices law in Denver and specializes in aviation and space law nationwide. He can be reached at bob.schultz@airportjournals.com and welcomes your comments and questions.
Richard Shandor
April 28, 2010 23:28 | Dear Sir, I am a retired airline pilot and have have decided to teach instrument ground school. I would like to have a knowledge of how the system started. Do you hev have suggestions on where I can obtain the knowledge ?
Thank you,
Rich Shandor |
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