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Aviation History
1957
1957 - 0078.PDF
"Flight" photograph The lights are on at La Guardia at the last passenger service of the day arrives from Manhattan—12 minutes away by S-55, an hour and a half by car. The Port of New York Authority's heliport—two concrete pads jutting out over the Hudson River from West 30th St., near the heart of downtown Manhattan. U FLIGHT, 18 January 1957 that way—but in the end the customer has got to make us pay.". . . "The patience and backing of the Port Authority has been well beyond their call of duty." I would have liked to have gone on talking helicopter shop forhours with Mr. Cummings. I felt he wouldn't have minded, either; but his assistant came in to say that someone had arrivedwho had been waiting to see him for two weeks to talk about helicopters for civil defence. "You see," he said ruefully, "wehave a try at anything to justify our subsidy." I had the impression that the main objective of this private enterprise helicopter operatorwas to get rid of his subsidy just as quickly as he could. I referred earlier to the possible comparison that might bedrawn between the state of the commercial helicopter today and fixed-wing transport in its infancy. I was made delightfullyaware of this from the moment I arrived at the West 30th Street heliport to pick up the last service of the day from Manhattan toLa Guardia. I suppose I had vaguely imagined New York's heliport to be in character with the splendours of Grand CentralStation or of the East Side Air Terminal. I am certain I never imagined it as two slabs of concrete and one small building lappedl>y the Hudson River—which is all it is. But what more is needed at this stage of the game? Warren Goodman of the Port Authority, who took me there inhis car, was nevertheless as proud of it all as he was of the scale model of the future I die wild International he had shown me inthe morning. This heliport was, he explained, "only the begin- nings" : plans for its considerable enlargement were in hand, asthey were also for the construction of other heliports elsewhere on Manhattan island. I was indoors reading about what to do in the unlikely eventof an unscheduled water landing when our S-55 was heard pounding overhead, causing a sudden flurry of activity amongthe seagulls and the three-man heliport staff. We watched it make a leaf-light landing on its slab, and heard the heliportmanager call out to the pilot: "How much can you lift?" It transpired that we would be 75 lb over-weight unless themechanic got out, which he obligingly did—mildly protesting that he had a doctor's appointment at La Guardia. I strapped myself in and surveyed the interior. It was notplush but it was by no means scruffy, even though the forward part of the cabin was partitioned off by cargo-webbing. On theleft wall was a telephone labelled Passenger to Captain, and on the right a box for first-aid and a canvas bag marked Life Vests.Had the chairs been of wicker basket-work, we could, I imagined, have been aboard a cross-Channel D.H.18 in the early twenties. Although I was sitting on the rear seat in between two fellow-passengers I could see that my view of Manhattan out of the red- curtained windows was going to be excellent. Our Pratt and
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