Been around but still interesting.
By Henry M. Holden
American Airlines Flagship
“San Antonio,” NC21746, c/n 2104, DC-3-208A, was delivered to the
airline on Feb. 23, 1939. It had served unremarkably throughout the war,
remaining with the civilian fleet. On January 5, 1947 it took its last
flight.
This
is the remarkable story of the Flagship “San Antonio”, called American
Flight 203. It was scheduled to fly from LaGuardia Airport to Nashville
with several interim stops, began prosaically with a 5:34 P.M.
departure.
Captain
John Booth, had three and a half hours of fuel in its tanks. The
LaGuardia-Baltimore leg was completed routinely, and Booth intended to
add fuel at the next stop, Washington National Airport.
What he and everyone else hadn’t counted on was an unexpected blizzard
that hit the entire eastern coast just as he departed Baltimore,
shutting down every airport between New York and North Carolina. It was
only forty miles between Baltimore and Washington but in the time it
took to cover that short distance, the cloud cover dropped 7,500 feet as
heavy snow swept in.
One view of the Flagship San Antonio (via C. Grady Cates)
Incoming
traffic to National Airport began to back up, and Air Traffic Control
(ATC) told the pilot to hold over Anacostia (Naval Air Station). At this
point all radio communications began to deteriorate. Precipitation
static began to interfere with transmission and reception. The captain
decided to return to Baltimore to refuel; By this time, Baltimore was
backing up and they were in the process of landing a flight of military
aircraft who had declared a low fuel emergency. Booth and his passengers
were number 12 for landing. Communications continued to deteriorate as
the storm intensified. Booth was now unable to hear any of the ground
stations, and they could barely make him out. Flight 203 was now in
serious trouble, but it would get worse.
Booth
was luckily able to contact an American Airlines DC-4 flying somewhere
above him at approximately 10,000 feet. He advised the DC-4
captain of his situation and asked him to get the weather at
Philadelphia, Flight 203’s alternate airport for just such a situation,
and relay it to him.
The
reply was not good. Philadelphia was getting pounded with heavy snow
and visibility was almost zero. What about LaGuardia? “Almost as bad”
relayed the DC-4 captain, “but there was still a small window of
visibility.”
Booth
decided to try for LaGuardia. He continued to head north until he
estimated he was directly over New York. He discovered conditions had
deteriorated badly. He was unable to raise the ATC. With communications
and visibility now zero he decided to try to raise the company
dispatcher.
He
was in luck! But the dispatcher had more bad news; LaGuardia was closed
to all traffic. Booth was beginning to worry. He was down to forty five
minutes of fuel. Booth asked the dispatcher what was the closest and
open airport. The dispatcher with reluctance in his voice said there was
nothing open within his fuel range. Booth now had a serious problem.
The fact that there was fuel exhaustion probably save the passengers from almost certain death. (via C. Grady Cates)
He
virtually did not know where he was, his fuel was quickly being
depleted and he had no contact with air traffic control. This is the
point when airline captains earn their pay. He had a command decision to
make. It may no doubt also be a life and death decision.
He
had several choices but none of them were attractive: He could land
someplace and risk running out of fuel over New York City; he could
ditch off Long Island either in the Long island Sound or to the south in
the Atlantic Ocean; or he could find a flat area and attempt a crash
landing. The option for ditching in the water was quickly ruled out. No
one would survive more than a few minutes in that frigid water.
Booth
was down to 30 minutes of fuel and still somewhere over New York City.
His altitude was about 2,000 feet. Not much margin there either if the
engines quit. He could not risk going higher and using more fuel. Booth
headed southeast to find the beach. What he found at 300 feet was the
Atlantic Ocean. The copilot suggested they drop a flare. The flare
revealed an angry, choppy water (they were over the Atlantic Ocean).
They
turned on the landing lights and estimated they could not see more than
40 feet ahead of them. By now the auxiliary tanks and one main tank
were dry. The two engines were still running but sucking fumes from the
one remaining main tank.
A
few minutes later the copilot informed the captain that the fuel was
reading zero. Remarkably the engines were still running. The captain
decided it was time to ditch and a moment later the beach showed up in
the glare of the landing lights. Since there was no cabin P.A. system in
the airplane the passengers were unaware of just how critical the
flight had become. Immediately the captain began to fly south so he was
out over the ocean before letting down to 300 feet. He banked the
airplane and made one pass when the engines began to sputter. When he
saw the water, he did a 180 degree turn and flew north hoping to see
land. When the beach came in view he made a 90 degree turn and
landed–just as one engine ran out of fuel!
With
the gear up he plopped the airplane down onto the beach. On impact the
right wing dipped and dug into the snow and sand causing the airplane to
slow quickly but also causing a violent turn to the right. The captain
was hurled into the windshield causing his teeth to tear through his
lower lip. The copilot was thrown into the control yoke which penetrated
his eye and driving it deep into his eye socket. A moment later the
airplane came to a stop with only the sound of creaking metal and
howling wind surrounding them. There was no fire, after all there was no
fuel to ignite.
The
passengers, all 12 of them were shaken but unhurt. Nobody had any idea
where they were. Booth asked two passengers to each walk one in each
direction down the beach to look for help. The flight attendant and
another who was deadheading both nurses ministered to the pilot and
copilot. Booth then tried the radio again. It worked! He raised someone
but never found out who it was. He was told to hold his mic button down
so they could get an ADF bearing. A few minutes later the voice came
back telling him they were on the south shore of Long Island in the
vicinity of Jones Beach.
A
few minutes later, a Coast Guard truck pulled up. One of the passengers
had stumbled on the Coast Guard Station. The Coast Guard station
officer had called the only number he had for American Airlines
(reservations) and advised them that one of their airplanes had landed
at Jones Beach. The reservations clerk replied very authoritatively that
American Airlines did not service Jones Beach. The officer replied,
“Well you do now!”
Reprinted from the DC-3/Dakota Journal Spring 1997
POST SCRIPT
NC21746
was sold for scrap, and the captain was awarded American Airlines’
Distinguished Service Award for bravery, and he retired as a senior
captain in 1975. The copilot, Tommy Hatcher, suffered from double vision
for several months but went on to fly for another 33 years, retiring as
a captain in 1980.
©Copyright Henry M. Holden, 1997, 2013
