Donald Trump wants to fix something that isn't broken---the iconic, subtly powerful look of Air Force OneBy Yours Truly
https://www.themaven.net/theresurgent/community/keep-your-meathooks-off-mr-loewy-s-airplane-mr-president-4xqiwmsQ-kiOf5gnlzAxBQ/You might think an American president has a few more important matters to ponder than his ride, but Donald Trump is not exactly an ordinary American president. The word coming forth now is that he is not happy with the skin of his airplane, which bears one of the most elegant evocations of its country's formidability but which he wishes to shed in favour of something more . . . "patriotic."
The President is reported to prefer some kind of red, white, and blue paint scheme for Air Force One and its companion decoy, as opposed to the two-tone blue, gold, and white trim the presidential aircraft have worn with only minor modifications since 1962. Whether he means the next best thing to a flying American flag or some other kind of bunting, Trump is quoted
by Axios as saying the incumbent colours are "Jackie Kennedy colours" not to his taste. Which shows what he knows about who designed it.
The skin in which which Air Force One has flown since entering the jet age was the creation of perhaps America's most aesthetically gifted industrial designer, a man who could (and did) pay as much attention to designing a beast of a locomotive as he did to re-designing a electric mixer. When America and her people seemed wedded irrevocably to industrial designs that looked only too industrial, Raymond Loewy made them look user friendly outside the factory, the warehouse, or the yard.
"Good design keeps the user happy, the manufacturer in the black, and the aesthete unoffended," said Loewy, who actually did design what Trump only thinks Mrs. Kennedy finally conjured up. He may or may not have originated America's streamlining but he did become the nation's most fabled among such fellow designers as Henry Dreyfuss and Ludwig Kocsi. Loewy and his breed brought art to utility and compromised neither while elevating both.
Born a Frenchman and making himself an American citizen in 1938, Loewy died two decades before Trump won the White House. It's not exactly a stretch to suggest Trump's aesthetic senses would have provided an evening's worth of comedy in Loewy's living room.
Loewy first arrived in America just in time to witness the Chicago White Sox tank the 1919 World Series. He found work as a fashion designer for such department stores as Macy*s and magazines as
Harper's Bazaar. His first industrial commission was to design a copy machine by Gestetner, leading to his engagement to design for Westinghouse, Hupp Motors (the 1933 Hupmobile), and Sears & Roebuck. (The once-legendary Coldspot refrigerator.)
That last especially helped secure Loewy's reputation, which caught the attention of the Pennsylvania Railroad, for whom he designed some of 20th Century America's most iconic locomotives, including a beast of a 6-8-6 (six small wheels, eight large, and six more small behind the large, for those scoring at home) known as the S1 which pulled the Broadway Limited. Never devoid of good humour, Loewy in due course designed a small desk mounted pencil sharpener based on an airplane's engine but which looked a tiny bit like the S1's nose in the bargain.
Studebaker (their gold-on-red, slim curved S logo; and, several of their cars, including the Starlight coupe and the Avanti sports car), Hoover (the vacuum cleaner maker's logo), Lincoln (their 1940s Continentals), Lucky Strike (the red-circle packs), Coca-Cola (their iconic red, rounded soda fountain dispensers), Schick (the 1941 electric razor), TWA (the once-famous twin-globe logo), General Motors (the legendary Scenicruiser bus), Skylab (the interior), and Sunbeam (the T-9 "tombstone" toaster; the Models 10 and 11 Mixmaster food mixers)---were a mere few of the companies who wore Loewy's gifts proudly and profitably. So did the Coast Guard, for whom Loewy designed the blue-and-orange racing-stripe logo that premiered in 1964.
When he was presented the commission to design the first jet (a Boeing 707) that would serve as the presidential ride, Loewy presented a sketch that included red on the tail's abstract in-flight bird trim and swerving around the cockpit beneath the blue crown. John F. Kennedy asked for only one modification---make the tail trim and the full cockpit crown the darker of the two blues applied to the livery. And thus the livery has remained from the 707 flown from Kennedy to Ronald Reagan to the 747 flown since the first George Bush.
Trump's reported preference for scrapping Mr. Loewy's art on behalf of patriotic chintz (would you expect any man who could have presided over the garish Trump Tower in Las Vegas to develop anything more than chintz?) has one kind-of precedent. When Harry Truman received a military variant of the Douglas DC-6 for his presidential flights, the silver propliner had a blue with white trim, stylised impression of a bird's wing on the tail, and a bald eagle's white beak on the nose, with eagle eyes around the cockpit side windows and two-tone blue wing feathers behind it, with The Independence emblazoned on the darker blue of the feathers.
The Independence didn't exactly reek of understatement, even as Mr. Truman was about as understated as a mid-air collision, but neither would the most mortified of eyes gazing upon it call it chintz, even if the temptation to greet The Independence upon arrival might have been to holler, a la, Porky Pig,
eba-dee, eba-dee, eba-dee, eba-that's all, folks! The splashiest touch to be found on Dwight Eisenhower's two successor silver Lockheed Constellations, other than the appearance of a columbine flower beneath
Columbine I and
Columbine II under the cockpit, were red-white-and-blue painted propeller tips on the planes' four engines.
Jacqueline Kennedy pressed her husband to bring Loewy aboard to redesign what Boeing first submitted for a presidential jet because she shared Loewy's opinion that the Air Force's original design for that original 707 was a red, white, gray, and silver creature Loewy called amateurish and the president himself may have called hideous. Kennedy asked for two shades of blue, slate and cyan, and Loewy went to work. Da Vinci himself would have applauded.
The result has been received and admired around the world since for its projection of American surety in a world often uncertain. Along comes a president who sees something that isn't broken and decides it's time to call in a repairman to make Air Force One great again. (Mr. Trump may or may not be unaware that Air Force One's tail from the outset displays an American flag properly proportioned.) Whether you love or loathe Mr. Trump one braces hard. One artist's conception shows something you'd sooner expect on a blimp hovering over a too-typically decadent presentation, halftime at a football game.
Axios speculates that Mr. Trump's plans for Air Force One's makeover may depend upon whether he's re-elected in 2020, since the new Air Force One jets won't be ready for presidential travels in time for a second Trump term. And whether he gets one depends in large portion upon how he handles the serious business of things that may yet turn up broken---his gamesmanship with
his new BFF in North Korea, an economy once booming but now at the mercy of
his trade war, a second Supreme Court nominee but one who seems at once
more and
less than
advertised, to name three.
The Air Force is said to be none too thrilled about his intentions for the big bird as it is. And guess what might be the single most popular non-political object to attract attention at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library? Easy---a former Air Force One, SAM 27000, aboard which Mr. Reagan flew more miles than his five immediate predecessors.
"Anyone who doubts how strongly Americans feel about the way Air Force One looks should go to the Reagan Library," says historian Michael Beschloss, "and see how many people go there to look at the plane that Ronald Reagan flew on while he was President." Which seems like the most polite way to advise Mr. Trump to keep his meathooks off Mr. Loewy's masterpiece.
Raymond Loewy with a model of his Air Force One.