Burt Rutan’s list of airplanes designed and flown (45), of honorary Doctoral Degrees (6!), of national and international awards (112…not counting the milk drinking contest he won at the age of 12), of patents held (7), and of design projects related to aviation in some way (several hundred) takes up 11 pages! This all occurred in the years between 1965, when he graduated from California Polytechnic University, and his retirement from Scaled Composites in April, 2011. It includes a work schedule that would have crippled most people: escalating over the forty-six years he spent in the high desert to six or seven days a week, 8 to 16 hours a day. Vacation time was rare. “I think the main reason is there wasn’t much to do in Mojave. I kept my head down and my elbows up and I worked like hell.” When he retired, he found “with a clear calendar, I could sleep in and then decide on a given day what I would do after I woke up. That concept was so foreign to me that it was absolutely amazing. I still haven’t gotten used to it.” He’s still looking for the “off” switch.
Burt evolved into an unusual blend of scientist and artist. He was able to visualize airflow in ways the rest of us can’t, and he knew how to direct that flow through the laws of physics. His airframes, especially the fuselages, were the most radical and graceful exhibits of sculpture ever seen in the air before. Burt is a sort of industrial sculptor that guys like Rodin would have admired. Spaceship One and The White Knight belong in an art museum as much as the National Air and Space Museum. The late Jack Cox, editor of Sport Aviation from 1970 to 1999, wrote his last article for that magazine in April, 2011, focusing on Burt’s early years. He characterized Burt’s supersonic mind and Über werkethik this way: “If thinking outside the box and turning that thinking into successful ventures and products is a mark of genius, then Burt Rutan, EAA Lifetime 26033, has claim many times over to that distinction. No other individual in the history of aviation has designed as many aircraft…radically different aircraft…and had them built and flown.” Burt’s fascination with aviation began as a young man. In high school he ignored kits and began designing one-off models experimenting with different configurations. A local hobby shop owner, whose day job was laying bricks, began taking Burt and some of his buddies in Dinuba, California, to competitions in San Francisco every other weekend. At age 17, his mother trucked Burt and 11 of the unique aircraft models he had designed and built to an AMA national convention in Dallas. Burt came home with a few trophies. In 1961, he went off to California Polytechnic University to pursue a degree in Aeronautical Engineering. While there, an idea germinated in his fertile imagination, following a research project he did on the virtues of canards. Intrigued with the anti-stall, antispin characteristics of the canard configuration, and enamored with the Saab Viggen, he began sketching out his first homebuilt: the two-seat, tandem VariViggen. It was to be built out of wood and metal. He conducted In the summer of ‘71 he had made his first trip to Oshkosh. It’s funny to think about Burt Rutan wandering around the Oshkosh flightline, unrecognized. That would change the following year when he introduced his VariViggen. That same year, after returning to Lancaster and his work at Edwards, he encountered one of those life-changing experiences that would take him in a very different direction. A designer/kitmaker named Jim Bede came through nearby Fox Field and members of the local EAA chapter encouraged Burt to meet Jim. He did. He showed Jim pictures of his VariViggen, which was nearing completion. Someone had already told Jim about Burt, and, knowing that Burt was involved in flight testing at Edwards Air Force Base, Jim offered Burt a job as his Chief Flight Test Pilot. Burt told Jim that he needed a Chief of Experimental Tests, adding “I know how to do that. I’m a professional flight test guy and I could organize and run your flight Burt was also formulating a plan that might lead him into the homebuilt kit business. The idea occurred to him after he had read about Bede’s plans to sell the BD-5 kit. He sketched out the concept for a MiniViggen (single-seater) for which Burt would create a kit that could be added onto a BD-5 kit. As long as Jim could sell his BD-5 kits, Burt expected he would have no objections to the concept. “I figured it would be a win/win situation for both him and me.” The MiniViggen would be the size of a BD-5 (considerably smaller than the VariViggen), but it would be transformed into a canard airplane. So before Burt went to work for Jim, he ordered his own BD-5 kit, thinking he would lay out his design and change the BD-5 into a MiniViggen. “And if it flew well, I would go into the kit business.” As it turned out, Bede never did deliver the BD-5 kit as the total package he had advertised; not to Burt or anyone else. It became one of the biggest scandals in the homebuilt movement. Burt managed to avoid the scandal. He functioned as the principal designer on Knowing he had a marketable product in the VariViggen, Burt moved back to California. “I didn’t especially want to make plans for the VariViggen because it was really hard to build.” However, he began shipping out plans and started machining some of the more challenging parts of the design. To assure a minimal level of security, Burt borrowed $15,000 from his dad. But first he had to find a place to establish his business. It had to be cheap. He needed a hangar for his VariViggen, a shop for making plans and parts, and a home for a family of four. Los Angeles was out because the high cost of hangars and shop space. He borrowed his uncle’s Ercoupe and went down to Brown Field on the Mexican border, then looked at Montgomery, Ramona, Flabob and a host of others. He was shocked by the prices people were asking. “Once I got to Mojave, I found this old, nearly abandoned airport with a few run down wooden buildings on it and the hangar rent was almost nothing and the shop rent was almost nothing, because they had all this empty space. I found a house nearby that had a low enough price and so it turned out that Mojave was the first place I’d found where I thought I could survive on cost. The other thing was that it was close to Edwards, and if my business failed I could always try to get my old job back with the Air Force.”
Of course, survival requires more than a workspace. There has to be a viable product. At $27 a set, for VariViggen plans, Burt had income, but knew it would be a losing battle. “I didn’t see a viable business selling plans or kits for the VariViggen. People were fascinated by how cool it looked and how it could make tight turns at full aft stick. It was a fun airplane to fly, for sure, and I enjoyed giving airshows at Oshkosh in ’73 and ’74, but it was horribly difficult to build. It was mixture of metal and spruce and birch plywood, it had complicated controls and an electric retractable landing gear. I could see that there was a small audience, who had the skills and patience to build one, but clearly if I was going make a business out of selling plans and kits, I had to have something that was easier to build and wider in appeal.” Burt liked the configuration of the VariViggen, found it fun to fly, was impressed with the stall-proof nature of the canard, but was disappointed in its performance and efficiency. He focused on producing a new version of it that would be considerably easier and quicker to build. The VariEze was born. During Burt’s University days, RC modelers began experimenting with foam core wings. They had mastered the technique of carving or hot-wire cutting of foam wing cores and covering them with balsa wood skins. Burt had heard of the technology. When he was working for Jim Bede and living in Valley th foam and fiberglass, producing elevators for his MiniViggen. “I became enthralled with the process. It took me a very short time to build. I walked away from it and the next morning it had cured and was ready for use. It was smoother and nicer than aluminum. I didn’t have to pound out ribs, didn’t have to use clecos…I was really jazzed by this.” A few hundred yards from Burt’s new location, Building 13, was an operation called Fred Jiran’s Glider Repair. Fred was European and had familiarity with the sailplanes that were being produced in Germany and Switzerland. It was a technology that was still in its infancy in America. These sailplanes were produced in tooling that utilized vacuum bagging of fiberglass impregnated with resin. Carved foam was then set inside the upper and lower surfaces of the wings. When they were dinged in an accident, Fred would shape foam to fill the hole and then lay new fiberglass over it. He didn’t need tooling to fix wings. These “moldless” repairs inspired Burt. He began to conceive of his VariEze as an all-composite aircraft. One of Fred’s employees, Gary Morris, an artist and a craftsman, began going
Burt started his VariEze, N7EZ, in February of 1975, intent on making the It wasn’t uncommon in those days to see four to eight new designs at Oshkosh every year. Innovation was a way of life at the Convention. But nothing had ever compared with the introduction of the VariEze. The buzz among homebuilders when the aircraft first flew over the Oshkosh airport was punctuated with gasps and more than a few salty phrases. This was the beginning of a revolution and everyone knew it. Aside from the unusual shape, presaged two years earlier by the VariViggen, the VariEze had no moving parts on the wing. The rudders were mounted on the trailing edge of the new winglets, a concept developed by Richard Whitcomb. Burt was the first designer to use winglets. The elevators, which Burt called elevons, were attached to the trailing edge of the canard, with control levers about two feet from the stick. The elevons moved up and down to control pitch, but also operated differentially, as ailerons. To accommodate entry and egress, Burt had designed a crank system that raised and lowered the nosewheel. None of these features had ever been seen before. The fact that Burt had put it all together in less than four months just blew peoples’ minds.
People began sending money in, even though he didn’t yet have anything to Jim Irwin, president of Aircraft Spruce, remembers Burt visiting his office in the spring of 1975 to talk about materials kits. Jim listened politely but had no way of knowing what was coming. For that matter, neither did Burt. The foam began arriving at the old Aircraft Spruce facility by truck, then by train load. It flew out as fast as it was trained in. “It was a phenomenon,” said Jim. “For a while we sold more foam, fiberglass and resin than everything else combined.” In 1977, Burt rolled out the Quickie, a single-seat design he created in collaboration with Tom Jewett and Gene Sheehan. It won the Outstanding New Design Award at Oshkosh ’78. Then he began a center-line thrust twin, called the Defiant (Burt’s personal airplane, not intended for a kit program), which was debuted at Oshkosh ’79 along with the Long EZ. The VariEze had pretty much decimated the existence of 0-200 engines. Builders wanted to use the heavier Lycoming engines and insisted on having a starter and full electrical system, which made the VariEze tail-heavy. In 1979 Burt developed a larger, Lycoming-powered EZ with some significant improvements in flying qualities. The Long-EZ was introduced in 1980 and it Burt continued to attend the annual Oshkosh Convention. From 1976 to 1986 RAF rented a 10’ by 10’ booth during the Oshkosh Convention and during the week he would make 20 percent of their annual sales. It wasn’t just plans sales. There were T-shirts, patches and other memorabilia that crossed the counter by the case. “It was tremendously important to us.” His forums became one of the highlights of the conventions, drawing the largest crowds for nearly two decades. “To us, it was all about homebuilts.” Not everything at RAF had turned to gold. Burt finally started selling plans to By 1996, Burt’s second company, Scaled Composites, was 14 years old and was demanding so much of Burt’s time that he just didn’t have time for homebuilders. He had sold his last set of plans to a homebuilder in 1985 but continued to support his builders for over 20 years with newsletters, even though there was no revenue to cover the costs of the newsletters. “I never charged for builder support, because I didn’t want people shunning it and building bad airplanes as a result. Initially I did not realize what an enormous tail you create when you sell plans.” During the 1980s the flightlines at Oshkosh and Sun ‘n Fun were dominated by aircraft Burt had designed. Thousands of VariEzes and Long-EZs were added to the FAA registry. They began showing up on airports all over the world. They spawned a variety of copies and stimulated a variety of other homebuilt and certificated designs that used composites: like the Glasair, Lancair, Cozy, Pulsar, Glastar, Europa, Velocity, VK-30, SR-20/22, Columbia, Boeing Dreamliner... Looking back, Burt was asked to identify the three greatest accomplishments in his illustrious career. He elected to include the manufacturing methods developed for producing the VariEze and Long-EZ. He views the Long-EZ as a refined model of the VariEze, a natural part of the evolutionary process, a model B. There were a lot of unique, innovative features on the two aircraft that have since been imitated. The robust structure, performance and appeal of the two models, coupled with the fact that for a very low cost, people could buy and build one of the airplanes, was, in Burt’s opinion one of the major achievements in his lifetime. When asked what his favorite airplane was, he’d always say: “the next one.” That was what usually held his attention and stimulated his passion. But after Spaceship One, he stopped saying “the next one.” Spaceship One is his favorite and ranks right up there with the list of his three greatest accomplishments. “Most of the program was completely covert and people were guessing what this White Knight was for. The idea that a private company could develop their own space program without government funding was unheard of and un-thought of.” The third part of the triangle “would be the fact that my tiny companies could attract contracts Catbird & Boomerang Catbird & Boomerang from big aerospace firms and from the Government, gaining their confidence to do important research work. When RAF had only four employees in the 1970s, it designed the skew-wing AD-1 research aircraft for NASA. It is now on display at the Hiller Museum in San Carlos. One of the Scaled Composites’ At its peak, RAF employed five people. Scaled composites started with six employees and grew to about thirty-five when the Starship made its first flight in 1983. After that it was common at Scaled to see three or four designs being built in the shop while two or three more were in flight testing, when employment was well less than 100. When Scaled undertook the Paul Allen manned space program in 2001, it was not their largest effort, in spite of the fact that they employed less than 140. When Burt retired in March 2011, the company had nearly 400 people on the payroll and was developing SpaceShip Two, the world’s largest manned commercial space system. Last December, Scaled revealed that it was developing Stratolaunch, the world’s largest aircraft; a design stemming from Burt’s preliminary work that was started back in 1991. Given the impact Burt Rutan had on the homebuilt movement, it seems inconceivable that we’ll ever see that kind of innovation, popularity and commitment again. It seems strange not to be able to Good Company: Paul Allen, Burt Rutan and Sir Richard Branson ask the question anymore: “What will Burt turn up with next?” RUTAN AIRCRAFT FACTORY: MANNED FIRST FLIGHTS |