Eckener Hugo - Empires of the sky zeppelins, airplanes, and two mens epic duel to rule the world

A PENCIL BALANCES UPRIGHT on its unsharpened end. A glass of water, its contents motionless, waits nearby. A tower of playing cards looms.

A steward bumps the table as he shimmers past. The pencil falls. The water ripples. The cards tumble.

He offers his sincere apologies and hurriedly tidies up.

There are scores of guests aboard today, most dressed immaculately in dark suits and sober ties, the uniform of the prewar American elite class. According to the newspapers, their cumulative net worth is more than a billion dollarsthats in 1936 dollars, when a billion was real money. With so much cash in human form walking around, their hosts have gone to great lengths to ensure a perfect day.

The list of the Great and the Good seems endless on this, the so-called Millionaires Flight. As John B. Kennedy, the NBC radio announcer broadcasting live from this midday summit, quips for his listeners: Weve got enough notablesto make the Whos Who say whats what.

Among the grandees present is Winthrop Aldrich, chairman of Chase National Bank, the mightiest bank in the world. His nephew Nelson Rockefeller works, perhaps not entirely coincidentally, for Chase, and hes also here today.

On the business side, among many others there are Paul Litchfield (president of Goodyear Tire & Rubber), Medley Whelpley (president of the American Express Bank), and John Hertz (owner of Hertz Drive-Ur-Self System).

The airline industry, in particular, has shown up in force. Colorful Jack Frye is president of TWA, and Eddie Rickenbacker, legendary World War I fighter ace, captains Eastern Air. Lucius Manning is there, representing the secretive Errett Lobban Cord, the transport tycoon who owns American Airlines.

Federal officials are there, too, nearly all from the Department of Commerces aeronautics branch, a body dedicated to overseeing Americas development of civil aviation. Complementing them is a contingent from the navy, including Admiral William Standley, the chief of naval operations, and Rear Admiral Arthur Cook, who heads its Bureau of Aeronautics.

Luncheon is served. In this dining room, furnished in hyper-modern style, barely a corner can be seen; all is graceful curves and vibrant colors. The sleek tables and chairs are made of chromed aluminum tubing, the fittings of futuristic plastic. There is none of the heavy wood and garish brass, the old-fashioned bric-a-brac and busy chintz so characteristic of the pass Edwardian era.

Indian Swallow Nest soup, cold Rhine salmon, and potato salad precede the main course of tenderloin steak in goose liver sauce, Chateau potatoes, and Beans la Princesse (accompanied by a cheeky 1934 Piesporter Goldtrpfchena Riesling), followed by a Carmen salad and iced California melon, washed down with a sparkling Feist Brut (1928). Strong Turkish coffee, light Austrian pastries, and fine French liqueurs finish off the meal.

As the staff clear the tables, the guests walk over to a slanted bank of picture windows running the length of the room.

About six hundred feet below spreads a delightful panorama of coastal New England in the fall. To one side, a cobalt sea peppered with yachts; to the other, an emerald coastline edged by endless reddening forest, interrupted only by the occasional town.

It is a grand view even for such exalted company.

But there is hardly time to fix ones gaze. The passing cavalcade is changing every moment, after all.

Soon theyre over Boston. In the streets, darkened by a great shadow, the cars stop and the thronging crowds pause in awe and astonishment at the strange object passing directly overhead. Then they wave and cheer.

The men sailing above return the compliment, casting off blue-blooded reserve to exult in the adulation and envy of their audience.

Watching over everyone is Herr Hitler, as the newspapers politely refer to him, whose portrait presides sternly over the room. Few find it overbearing: He did an admirable job, after all, hosting the Berlin Olympics a few months ago. Apart from the brief unpleasantness of 191718, Germany and America are friends, always will be, and there is every reason to believe, especially once this clubby, boozy afternoon is over, that Berlin and Washington will deepen their relationship.

Playing gracious hosts are the Germans. They have sent no less a personage than Hans Luther, currently their ambassador to Washington and the former chancellor of Germany and president of the Reichsbank. Hes accompanied by a couple of army and navy attachs, who chat about military matters with the American admirals.

But the exclusive focus of attention, the real reason why all are gathered here today, is one German in particularDr. Hugo Eckener. In his late sixties, he is buzzcutted and goateed, and as German as one can be. He also happens to be one of the most famous men in the world.

Eckener lacks the privilege, wealth, or station of the others assembled, but his ambition and audacity are legendary.

He is the greatest airshipman of all time. With more flying hours under his belt than anyone else alive or dead, he is master of the aery realm. He is the anointed heir of the father of the airship, Count von Zeppelin, and just as it was Joshua, not Moses, who led the Israelites into the Promised Land, it is Eckener who has surpassed his late mentors achievements by conceiving the greatest and grandest airship of them all, the most marvelous technological and aeronautical wonder of the agethe very vessel, in fact, in which the titans are soaring.