Noisy debut for the Tu-144
Although the Soviet Tu-144 became the first civilian aircraft to break the sonic barrier in 1969, the Anglo-French Concorde soon shot several sound-years ahead of its Russian rival with the inauguration of regular transatlantic passenger service in 1976. Last week the Soviet Union belatedly entered the supersonic sweepstakes by initiating regular Tu-144 flights on a little-traveled run between Moscow and Alma-Ata, an industrial city of 860,000 near the Chinese border. Price of a one-way ticket on the once-a-week flight: $113. TIME Moscow Bureau Chief Marsh Clark was the first Western passenger to step aboard the supersonic transport on its inaugural flight and filed this report:
The Russian plane, nicknamed Concordski by Westerners, looked almost like a twin of the Concorde with its ant-eater nose and swept-back delta wings, though its white fuselage was badly in need of a bath or a paint job. Also like the Concorde, the Tu-144 had a small cabin with narrow aisles and elbow-to-elbow seating; it carried a maximum of 140 passengers (the Concorde carries only 100). The inaugural aircraft lacked posh decor. Several of its ceiling panels were ajar, service trays got stuck, and window shades slipped down without being pulled.
There were white knuckles and strained expressions among the 80 passengers as the Concordski whistled down the runway for 33 seconds, sucking in air through four "sugar scoop" intakes slung beneath its body. Doubtless, many passengers remembered apprehensively that in its first major public appearance at the Paris air show four years ago, the Concordski went out of control, killing 13 people in a fiery crash that was seen by millions of TV viewers. After the tragedy, modifications were made in the aircraft.
Still, it didn't help much that, as the plane revved up, the intercom played songs like Gloomy Sunday and Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head.
Passengers were startled by the extreme angle of ascent, which threatened to dump all their hand baggage into the rear toilet. But within 15 minutes the Concordski was level and cruising comfortably ten miles above ground, racing at twice the speed of sound toward Alma-Ata, 1,931 miles away.
Any remaining tensions were broken by three comely stewardesses—Zoya, Lyuba and Ira—who distributed copies of the latest Pravda and served a distinctly unproletarian meal of smoked salmon, red and black caviar, roast beef and white wine from the Crimea. The only inflight problem was noise. Conversation was rendered almost impossible by a loud rushing sound that made the flight seem as though it were taking place in a wind tunnel. Alexei Tupolev, the plane's designer, who was aboard the inaugural run, explained that the noise came from a supercharged ventilation system designed to keep passengers cool despite the above-boiling temperatures on the plane's skin.
Two hours after takeoff, the Concordski passed over the snowcapped mountains above Alma-Ata and settled onto the runway like a giant titanium duck, putting its feet down carefully and coming in tail low.
Ground services for the supersonic flight were strictly subsonic. Takeoff from Moscow was delayed 20 minutes after a motorized baggage cart broke down.