Question of the Day - 27 May 2024

Great question! And one we've never been asked before. It gives us a chance to write about something we've never covered before as well. 

For our money, the "craziest," most extraordinary and remarkable event took place in 1958-1959, when two airplane pilots, Robert Timm and John Cook, set the world's record for the longest-ever flight. Believe it or not, it lasted 64 days, 22 hours, and 19 minutes and it took place over Las Vegas and environs, starting on December 4, 1958, and ending on Feb. 7, 1959. In total, the plane flew 150,000 miles, roughly equivalent to six times around the Earth, without ever landing on Earth. 

It was so remarkable, in fact, that the record actually stands to this day. An aircraft came close a couple of years ago, when a solar-powered drone, Zephyr, lasted for 64 days, 18 hours, and 26 minutes, a little less than four hours away from the record, but it crashed. And that was an unmanned flight!

The Timm-Cook stunt was (of course!) a promotion in conjunction with the opening of a casino, to wit, the Hacienda (now the site of Mandalay Bay). The Hacienda was the brainchild of Warren "Doc" Bayley, who owned a a fleet of charter planes, Hacienda Airlines, that flew in gamblers from around the country. 

Bob Timm was one of the Hacienda's slot mechanics and he'd been a bomber pilot in World War II. Timm understood the widespread appeal of endurance flying. The current record at that time, 46 days, had been set by two WW II pilots in 1949 to draw attention to the closed Yuma Army Airfield in Arizona and did it ever; stories and photos of the flight were published all over the world. 

Bayley also knew that he could accrue priceless publicity for the Hacienda, but only indirectly. So he used the flight to sponsor a fundraiser for the Damon Runyon Cancer Fund. Donations were accepted -- along with predictions for how long the flight would last with a prize of $10,000 for the closest guess. Thus, in the words of a story on DamnInteresting.com, "The 'Flight Against Cancer' would be a form of family-friendly gambling⁠⁠ — exactly the sort of thing Bayley wanted to promote ⁠⁠— while neatly sheltering the Hacienda from accusations of self-interest."

The nearly new Cessna 172 two-seater was painted with "Las Vegas Hacienda Hotel" on both sides and retrofitted for endurance-flight purposes, not the least of which was a supplemental 95-gallon fuel tank strapped to the belly of the fuselage. In order to refuel, the pilots flew 15 feet off the ground and just above stall speed; a truck on the ground kept pace, while winching a hose into the tank to pump fuel. This took place twice a day. "It was a dramatic show of airmanship, because they had to do it at night sometimes and that required some precision flying.” The truck also sent up water, food, and supplies, including gourmet meals prepared by Hacienda chefs. Those, however, "had to be cut up and mashed into thermoses to make the trip."

The back of the plane was outfitted with a camping toilet with handy bags, which were thrown out the window, and an inflatable mattress, though sleep was a little hard to come by in a cramped, noisy, and bumpy small plane. 

At first, the Cessna circled Las Vegas Valley, but then the pilots started ranging farther into the desert, all the way to eastern California and southwestern Arizona.

Several mishaps almost ended the flight and, perhaps, Timm and Cook's lives and they became more delirious as time went on from stress, sleep deprivation, cramped quarters, winter temperatures, and unmitigated monotony; this was evidenced by entries in a diary kept by Cook.

One time, Timm set the autopilot so he could catch some winks and when he woke up, he had no idea where they were. He had to fly for a couple of hours before he recognized landmarks. On Day 39, the generator failed, eliminating lights, radio, and heat; in addition, now, the fuel from the supplemental belly tank had to be pumped by hand into the wing tanks. And every so often, one of the pilots had to climb out of the cockpit to wash the windshield.

Did they cheat and touch down out of sight of prying eyes? All indications are that they didn't. Accusations were anticipated, so every so often, the pair flew low over the runway at McCarran Field, where a daredevil in a chase car painted white stripes on the tires. On subsequent passes, the chase car checked that the stripes were intact -- they hadn't been marred by landing -- and repainted them. 

Finally, just short of the 65th day airborne, the pair had had enough. The record was set, the plane was on the verge of failing entirely, the fuel truck had broken down, and the publicity bandwagon had built up a full head of steam. 

We love the answer by John Cook when a reporter later asked him if he'd do it again. “Next time I feel in the mood to fly endurance, I’m going to lock myself in a garbage can with the vacuum cleaner running and have Timm serve me T-bone steaks chopped up in a Thermos bottle -- until my psychiatrist opens for business in the morning.” 

The modified Cessna 172 hangs above baggage claim at Reid International, at least it did the last time we were there.