“R. D., meet Dick Blake and Bill Spaven,” said my boss, “They’re here to show us an idea they have to replace the constant speed drive with electronic circuits.”

We had been kicking around different ideas for replacing the drive for some time without much success, so any new idea was welcome. The constant speed drive served as the power link between the airplane engine and the electric generator, which is the source of the airplane’s electricity. The drive worked fine but it required frequent overhaul.

Our guests were with Walter Kidde Company, well known for its fire extinguishing systems. Their presentation derived from familiar radio circuitry, the superhetrodyne. Their presentation was straightforward and seemed feasible, at least for low power apparatus. It was questionable for our use, but it was deemed worth looking into. They agreed to build a demonstration model and see us later.

Several weeks later the Kidde Company had built a prototype of some kind and were ready to propose the idea to an airplane builder. So I, being the designated local expert on this project, packed my bag and headed for Hoboken, N. J. It is because of two interesting characters that I bother to relate this story. At least I thought they were interesting.

My welfare and guidance were put into the hands of Bill, who said at the outset, “My name is Spaven, with a long ‘a’. Some have called me ‘spavin’, with a short ‘a’, which I don’t like too much. You see, spavin is a horse disease.”

Thus, we were off to a good start. We knew what to call each other, but I called him Bill most of the time, which was perfectly fine with him. His routine from the start was to pick me up at my hotel and drive to his workplace where we worked on the proposal. We put together circuit diagrams, illustrations of the workings of the scheme and proposed parts lists. Sometimes assisted by Blake this endeavor went on for two or three days.

Spaven’s automobile appeared to be about 15 or 20 years old. It ran well, seeming to be well tuned up, but otherwise looking pretty seedy. Each morning Bill drove to the end of the parking lot farthest from the entrance to the building. At first I wondered why. Then it became clear to me. The parking lot sloped upward from the building. Bill selected the spot simply so that the car, having a manual transmission, could coast downhill and not require battery power to start. In fact there was no battery. Once off the lot we drove directly to the nearest filling station. There we took on water, filling the radiator, which gained its emptiness through a small, but persistent leak; this while letting the engine run, of course. On a stop at Bill’s house I learned of his morning procedure. His house was a few feet above street level. He pulled into the driveway and parked just outside his garage. Each morning he first filled the radiator, then coasted back down the driveway to start the engine, then was on his way.

Talking with Bill, one wouldn’t suspect that he was other than a normal family man. When I met some of his family I was surprised to note that none of the kids resembled him at all. It was a flock in a variety of hues ranging from white to black.

“How many kids do you have?” I asked, thinking some of the neighborhood kids must be visiting.

“Seven,” He replied. “They are all adopted.”

I was in awe of him. He was more courageous than I, by a long shot. I didn’t look in his garage to see if he had a later vintage car than that sitting outside, but if not I’d certainly understand why.

The preliminary work done, Spaven, Blake and I assembled to complete the proposal. Blake did most of the talking. He was a supervisor and so, inclined more toward sales than toward technology, as are most of his ilk. Our conference room was equipped with a restroom in a corner next to the entrance, a convenience for long sessions.

After a few minutes of discussion, Blake left the room and returned with Ms. Steno and a portable typewriter. Ms. Steno, a lady a bit more mature than any of us guys, soon proved to be quite adept at using her machine. Having introduced her, Blake, never at a loss for words, began the narrative portion of the proposal. Ms. Steno wrote what he said, never lagging more than two or three words behind the speech. I was amazed, for the words were uttered at a normal conversational rate. Blake described the scheme and its potential advantages in great detail. As he talked on and on he paced around the room without sitting for a moment. After about an hour, when I thought we should take a break, and give Ms. Steno a rest, Blake was still talking with barely a pause. At this point he altered his course and went into the restroom, leaving the door ajar. The talk went on with no interruption. He may have raised his voice slightly to be heard over the telling teeny torrent. Blake soon emerged, still talking, and continued at his normal pace until he finished. He thanked Ms. Steno and excused her. The proposal was virtually complete, needing only assembly and some finishing touches.

A few weeks later this same team met with a group of engineers at the Boeing Company in Seattle, Washington to present the proposal. Dick Blake was, of course, our spokesman. He spoke smoothly and confidently. When finished, he took questions from the Boeing engineers. It all went well until the last question was asked. Blake was obviously stumped and paused for a moment to relax.

“Gentlemen,” he said, and after another pause continued, “that will yield to design.”

“Ouch, I never thought of that problem, either,” I said to myself, “It may take more effort than anyone is willing to support.” 

For quite some time after that, the Kidde Company continued to work on the scheme, which might have “yielded to design” if electronic parts developed years later had been available at the time. We at Westinghouse, after much diligence for several years, produced the desired product but through use of a different method. Nevertheless, I am glad to have met these two unforgettable characters.