"The Origination"
And now for something completely different...a short piece of historical fiction in celebration of Delta Air Lines' 100 years of flight.
The following is a work of fiction. Yet, I’ve made every effort to create a backdrop as true to life as possible.
That meant digging through the Delta Archives. Thanks to that trove and other peripheral research, I’ve included actual names, events, and circumstances from the airline’s history.
However, the intention isn’t to serve as a factual account but rather to give you, dear readers, a glimpse of early aviation and the origin of the Delta Spirit, something I feel has had a revival of sorts as the company has climbed toward its centennial celebration.
Check the postscript for more commentary, like…why did I write this in the first place.
“The Origination”
W. Scott Dunne placed a freshly pressed and folded dress shirt atop the rest of his items, brought the lips of his leather satchel together, and fastened the hasps, making sure not to close it too tightly. His secretary had assured him that his baggage would be handled carefully and not compressed with other items aboard the small craft.
“The Delta Air Service representative said so herself,” Gloria assured him. “Ms. FitzGerald was quite pleasant in her letter. Included in the correspondence is a note from Mr. Woolman himself. He even put it in writing, Mr. Dunne. The letter goes on to reconfirm your travel plans and thank you for your present and future patronage.”
He tucked the letter between some manila files in his briefcase. Maybe reading that later would take his mind off being 4,000 feet above Dallas. Despite the reassurances, he couldn’t help but feel some trepidation at traveling with a startup company which, only months before, had the boll weevil as its primary client.
He only hoped that the man at the helm would remember his current customers and not swoop down over some cotton fields out of habit. His thoughts were interrupted by Gloria. “Your taxi is here, Mr. Dunne.” Included in the cost of the ticket, the taxicab shuttled him through sporadic, pre-dawn showers and under rolling, charcoal clouds blowing westward toward Love Field.
“If those thunderheads open up, there’s no way I’m boarding that flying contraption,” he remarked from the backseat as the taxi pulled into a Gulf Oil filling station. The cabbie turned around.
“Nothing to worry about, sir. I’ve seen those Delta aircraft handle stronger winds than this!”
An incredulous look on the architect’s face punctuated his reply: “You don’t say?”
“Yessir. Friend of mine says their mechanics in Monroe turn out finer, more reliable work than any other shop in the Southeast,” he replied. He turned back around and steered the car onto the two lane road bound for the airport.
Being an architect of no little renown, W. Scott Dunne, did his fair share of traveling through a circuit of southeastern cities, their universities and institutions. As his popularity grew, demand for his presence followed suit. As much as he enjoyed travel by train and seeing America from a Pullman car, he understood that times were changing.
Having noticed the triangular logo reading, “SPEED, SAFETY, COMFORT,” he found it fitting that his departure from his regular means of transportation was with Delta Air Service.
The fourth letter of the Greek alphabet, Delta, also in the form of a
triangle, was used as the symbol for change in physics and engineering.
to Mr. Woolman, he asked, among varied concerns for safety and future route expansions, how he had settled on the name.
Signed C.E. Woolman, the response had read:
Delta Air Service is named after the rich Mississippi river country we serve.
Credit has to be given to my secretary, Catherine FitzGerald, whose suggestion led to naming our company.I’ve always believed that our people are our greatest resource. Even down to our name, that assertion holds true.
A break in the clouds up ahead let a sliver of sunshine illuminate the airfield as the taxi pulled up to the hangar. The last few sentences of that letter played in his mind as he stepped onto the muddy field.
“I commend your astute observation of our name. There lies correlation, not causation, as you posited. Thanks to you, I see the parallels. Indeed, I see
change as a regular fixture as this business grows into an industry and this industry stretches its limits.
“The only monotonous thing about aviation thus far is the constant change. I thank you and trust your flight will be safe, swift and comfortable. And we look forward to serving you in the future.”
He made his way into the building, presented the larger of his two bags to the porter and his ticket to the uniformed agent.
“Mr. Dunne,” the agent read off the ticket, “Pleasure to have you traveling with us today! We’ve got a bit of a delay with the inclement weather. But as soon as we get some favorable weather reports from East Texas and Louisiana, we’ll be on our way. You can have a seat over here until then, sir.” The clean cut young man indicated a small seating area near the window.
The architect gave his thanks and found an empty seat where he could observe the busy room; employees bustled around four suited men, most likely his fellow passengers for that day. Having arrived before him, they had settled into their newspapers and conversations. Strangers, but comrades in the same situation, they made Scott feel a bit more at ease.
“First time flying, sir?” asked a spry voice behind him. Startled, he turned to see its host, a lean man of 30 or so years, fresh rain rolling off his leather jacket onto the wooden planks beneath his sodden boots. “Why, yes, it is,” replied Mr.
Dunne. Seeing the easy smile on the man’s face made him somewhat relaxed.
“James S. Bealle, Jr., staff writer for The Tuscaloosa News. Pleased to meet you!” He stuck out a hand in greeting which the architect accepted. “W. Scott Dunne.
The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bealle.”
“I’m writing a piece for our paper on this Delta Air Service.” He settled down in the empty seat next to the architect, rain splattering on the older man’s blazer. “I just got done talking with the pilot and he said we should be on our way.”
“So, have you taken a flight before, Mr. Bealle?” asked Mr. Dunne. “Or is your paper sending you as a test subject?”
“The latter, governor. I’m looking forward to it myself. As long as the mud of the runway lets us get off the ground, that 300 horsepower Wright Whirlwind motor should get us to Tuscaloosa with no problem at all. So what takes you to the skies? Business?” he asked.
“On one hand, yes; my work takes me all over. But on the other hand, I simply am interested in what this is all about.”
“Interested in investing, perhaps?” guessed the reporter.
“Perhaps,” he replied, “But I’ve colleagues in Atlanta and Birmingham with whom I’ve planned some projects. Delta serves Alabama and I’ve read in their literature that Atlanta is in sight for later this year. If they are to follow through with that plan, they’ll have me as constant passenger...that is, as long as I can get used to the idea of soaring through the sky at 115 miles per hour!”
“Yessir. There’s some reconditioning that’s called for by the very nature of air travel,” replied the young man, craning his neck to look for a hint of sunshine outside.
“I suppose we’ll all have to adjust as we climb above the clouds, go beyond old limitations. The higher, the better, I say. Hmm...I remember my parents used to say a good climber uses two hands.”
“And did you?” asked Dr. Dunne.
“Broke my left hand twice” he replied, making Dr. Dunne glad that the man seated next to him was a reporter and not the pilot. “Now that doesn’t matter-we’re in someone else’s hands now.”
The conversation was broken by the commotion surrounding the rolling of the aircraft out of the hangar. Several employees slowly moved the Travel Air towards the bav doors as others leaned into them.
Gentlemen, your attention, please,” announced the pilot as he approached the congregated travelers. “I’ve had the pleasure to meet some of you already. My name is Johnny Howe and I’ll be your pilot for today’s flight.”
“Looks like progress,” quipped James.
“We’ve yet to receive the much hoped-for clear weather report from our sources, but as far as I am concerned, there’s no risk to flying our craft in weather like this.
I’ve flown many a time through rougher clouds. Rest assured I will do everything to make your flight as pleasant as possible.
“We’re scheduled to land in Shreveport in an hour and thirty-five minutes after
Between here and our first scheduled stop, there are three fields available to us in case the weather turns sour. Again, it’s a pleasure to have you traveling with Delta today. At this time, I’d like to welcome you aboard and thank you for flying with us.”
His words spoken, he turned and made his way towards the plane where the porters were loading the luggage onto the aircraft.
Mr. Dunne glanced over to see James furiously scribbling down the words of Mr.
Howe, his pencil marking barely legible words on a pad of paper no bigger than the palm of his hand. When the lines came to a stop, James looked up, squinted, as if he could make out the words fading in the horizon.
The architect brushed off the brim of his hat and set it atop his head. He heard Mr. Bealle’s barely audible words, “...thanks for...thank you for....How did he phrase that again?”
“I believe,” said Dr. Dunne, a smile playing across his mustached face, amused and not quite believing that he was actually saying the words, “That the gentleman said, Thank you for flying with us.”
“Thank vou, sir. Much obliged!” he said, and tucked the tools of his trade into a small portfolio on his lap.
The architect rose to his feet, took up his satchel, and straightened his back feeling more confident in making this journey. Turning to his companion, he said, “Let us go, Mr. Bealle. We’ve a plane to catch.”
Postscript
So, why did I do this?
Well, first things first, even though this is a commemoration of the airline’s centennial, I wrote this piece a full 25 years ago when Delta was commemorating its 75th anniversary and I was an employee in their ATL Worldport comms. I'll have to share more of the writing from that era/communications initiative. Because it was fun and enterprising and… Well, good stuff.
Fast-forward to another fact why I wrote this or rather why I'm sharing it with the world: I love Delta.
I travel a whole lot these days and unlike the days when I was traveling standby as an employee and not paying anything but international taxes, today I fly so much that I'm considered one of their Previous Metals, aka one of their medallion-level frequent flyers.
Delta does a great job of providing safe, comfortable, courteous service in my experience. And I really appreciate them. Of course, I reward it with my loyalty. (That's easy to do when you're living at Delta's global hub in Atlanta. 🙃)
That said, sharing this is a simple way of getting back to them, of celebrating them as they celebrate their 100 years. I look forward to flying into the next 100.