Forty-one years ago, the Boeing 747 revolutionized the way we travel. Now, 40 billion miles later, it's getting a major makeover. Our Senior Consulting Editor reports on the transformation of the gentle jumbo, and tells us why we should get ready for one sweet ride.
Witnessing the birth of a Boeing 747 should be, you would think, an industrial experience. In fact, it is an unexpectedly ethereal one. The plant at Everett, Washington, north of Seattle, is the largest building by volume in the world, covering nearly 100 acres. Under its 87-foot-high roof there is very little sound, and the few people who are visible are dwarfed by the machine they are building. It doesn't take long to see that there is a meticulous delicacy to the structure of this behemoth. Indeed, the tolerances of its manufacture have to be as fine as for a Swiss watch—in this case, one with 6 million separate parts. I'm here to see a historic moment: the emergence of the fifth and newest version of the 747, the 747-8 Intercontinental.
Rarely does a machine earn real affection; it's even more unlikely when that machine is an airliner. But in the four decades it has been flying, the Boeing 747, whose distinctive hump and bulbous nose have given it as much of an identity as its size, has morphed into the gentle giant suggested by its enduring sobriquet, the jumbo. It has long been a reassuring sight at the gate—formidable in scale, elephantine in capacity, and for the most part docile in its deportment in the sky. It's easy to forget that it's always been faster than any other subsonic jet, cruising at 570 miles per hour. A hot ship. And now, here is a 747 refashioned for the twenty-first century into a sleeker, sexier (and notably greener) airplane, with new wings curved like the blade of a scimitar. For passengers, this latest incarnation means a cabin experience transformed and enhanced by subtle, mood-shifting lighting and seats that are fully wired for the age of the iPad. Evidence of the plane's sex appeal is the fact that the first few to come off the assembly line have been bought (at a base price of $300 million without the trimmings) as the personal playthings of so far unnamed oil kingdom potentates. Next year, the rest of us can step aboard the 747-8 courtesy of Lufthansa, the German airline that has ordered twenty and reserved a place in line to purchase a further twenty. (Korean Air and Air China will follow, with an order for five each.)
Behind the remarkable longevity of the 747 is the genius of the man who conceived it in the late 1960s. Joe Sutter was only 44 when he put his personal stamp on every detail of its design. When I met him recently at his cluttered office at the Boeing headquarters in Seattle, I asked him if, back when he was masterminding the 747, he could have imagined that it would still be around in 2011, let alone be having an encore. "No," he said, "we thought there would be supersonic transports and the 747 would become obsolete." (The only supersonic airliner to fly regularly, the Concorde, was retired in 2003.) Now, at 90, Sutter heads an elite group of Boeing elders who scrutinize all of the company's future plans, including the 747-8.
Four decades is a long time to remain on top of the game, and the 747 has a serious rival in the Airbus A380, which is big enough to carry 300 more passengers. But the market for large jets in the future is projected to be around 700 planes, and Boeing was not prepared to leave Airbus with all of it. So after hesitating for a decade, Boeing decided in 2005 to give the 747 an upgrade to compete with the A380. The result: New technology and a new generation of digitally empowered designers have taken the 747 to a high level of refinement and efficiency, as though finally releasing a potential that was always there. There is room in the sky for both the 747 and the A380. Lufthansa, for example, will fly both, using each on different routes, depending on demand.
True revolutions don't come often, and it will be a long time before any plane changes air travel the way the original jumbo did, by making flying around the world an affordable proposition. So far, 747s have carried 3.6 billion people—equal to more than half the world's population. The launch of the 747-8 ensures that we will still be counting, well into the future.
The Cabin of Your Dreams
Having flown in 747s since the first one went into service (and having written a history of its creation), I didn't think the plane could still surprise me. How wrong. There was one of those classic, involuntary "wow" moments when I entered the cabin of the 747-8, in the form of a mock-up in the swank, theaterlike setting where Boeing woos airline executives. Everything was new: the colors, the lighting, and—crucially—the sense of space. This is what the Boeing designers call the "threshold effect," intended to shape your mood as soon as you board, regardless of whether you turn right or left.
Passengers will feel that the main deck is wider than on previous jumbos. Physically, it isn't, but new sculpting of the sidewalls, a higher ceiling, and less intrusive baggage bins (even though they actually hold more) create a loftier feel. This impression is heightened by the absence of fluorescent lighting: Light-emitting diodes (LEDs) allow the color and brightness to be set for individual cabins and dimmed according to day or night needs. The initial lighting, for boarding, is an iridescent blue with the warmth of a summer sky.
This radical change in cabin comfort and feel was developed first for the company's 787 Dreamliner. But in a twist of fate, the 747-8 will deliver these comforts at around the same time as the first 787s enter service, because the Dreamliner, plagued with problems, will be at least three years late. Not only that but the 787's styling feels even better in the 747-8 because the main deck is nearly a foot wider and the sinuously curved roofline is so sexy.
A major irritation of red-eye flights will also be absent: the sudden wake-up blast of unmodulated light. The windows on the 747-8 (eight percent larger than on older 747s) have no shades; they incorporate shading by electrochromatic dimming, which passengers can control through levels from total dark to total light. A full range of digital entertainment, from personal iPods to wide-screen high-definition movies, can be accessed from every seat.
The new comforts extend only so far: The coach seats remain tight, though the seats in premium economy—the rapidly growing new class—will surely be more generous. At the other end of the comfort needle, first-class passengers will enjoy personal "suites" with full-length beds and an array of hotel-like amenities. In the end, it is the airlines' bean counters, not Boeing's, who dispense the luxuries—or withhold them.
Photographs by Dan Winters
Witnessing the birth of a Boeing 747 should be, you would think, an industrial experience. In fact, it is an unexpectedly ethereal one. The plant at Everett, Washington, north of Seattle, is the largest building by volume in the world, covering nearly 100 acres. Under its 87-foot-high roof there is very little sound, and the few people who are visible are dwarfed by the machine they are building. It doesn't take long to see that there is a meticulous delicacy to the structure of this behemoth. Indeed, the tolerances of its manufacture have to be as fine as for a Swiss watch—in this case, one with 6 million separate parts. I'm here to see a historic moment: the emergence of the fifth and newest version of the 747, the 747-8 Intercontinental.
Rarely does a machine earn real affection; it's even more unlikely when that machine is an airliner. But in the four decades it has been flying, the Boeing 747, whose distinctive hump and bulbous nose have given it as much of an identity as its size, has morphed into the gentle giant suggested by its enduring sobriquet, the jumbo. It has long been a reassuring sight at the gate—formidable in scale, elephantine in capacity, and for the most part docile in its deportment in the sky. It's easy to forget that it's always been faster than any other subsonic jet, cruising at 570 miles per hour. A hot ship. And now, here is a 747 refashioned for the twenty-first century into a sleeker, sexier (and notably greener) airplane, with new wings curved like the blade of a scimitar. For passengers, this latest incarnation means a cabin experience transformed and enhanced by subtle, mood-shifting lighting and seats that are fully wired for the age of the iPad. Evidence of the plane's sex appeal is the fact that the first few to come off the assembly line have been bought (at a base price of $300 million without the trimmings) as the personal playthings of so far unnamed oil kingdom potentates. Next year, the rest of us can step aboard the 747-8 courtesy of Lufthansa, the German airline that has ordered twenty and reserved a place in line to purchase a further twenty. (Korean Air and Air China will follow, with an order for five each.)
Behind the remarkable longevity of the 747 is the genius of the man who conceived it in the late 1960s. Joe Sutter was only 44 when he put his personal stamp on every detail of its design. When I met him recently at his cluttered office at the Boeing headquarters in Seattle, I asked him if, back when he was masterminding the 747, he could have imagined that it would still be around in 2011, let alone be having an encore. "No," he said, "we thought there would be supersonic transports and the 747 would become obsolete." (The only supersonic airliner to fly regularly, the Concorde, was retired in 2003.) Now, at 90, Sutter heads an elite group of Boeing elders who scrutinize all of the company's future plans, including the 747-8.
Four decades is a long time to remain on top of the game, and the 747 has a serious rival in the Airbus A380, which is big enough to carry 300 more passengers. But the market for large jets in the future is projected to be around 700 planes, and Boeing was not prepared to leave Airbus with all of it. So after hesitating for a decade, Boeing decided in 2005 to give the 747 an upgrade to compete with the A380. The result: New technology and a new generation of digitally empowered designers have taken the 747 to a high level of refinement and efficiency, as though finally releasing a potential that was always there. There is room in the sky for both the 747 and the A380. Lufthansa, for example, will fly both, using each on different routes, depending on demand.
True revolutions don't come often, and it will be a long time before any plane changes air travel the way the original jumbo did, by making flying around the world an affordable proposition. So far, 747s have carried 3.6 billion people—equal to more than half the world's population. The launch of the 747-8 ensures that we will still be counting, well into the future.
The Cabin of Your Dreams
Having flown in 747s since the first one went into service (and having written a history of its creation), I didn't think the plane could still surprise me. How wrong. There was one of those classic, involuntary "wow" moments when I entered the cabin of the 747-8, in the form of a mock-up in the swank, theaterlike setting where Boeing woos airline executives. Everything was new: the colors, the lighting, and—crucially—the sense of space. This is what the Boeing designers call the "threshold effect," intended to shape your mood as soon as you board, regardless of whether you turn right or left.
Passengers will feel that the main deck is wider than on previous jumbos. Physically, it isn't, but new sculpting of the sidewalls, a higher ceiling, and less intrusive baggage bins (even though they actually hold more) create a loftier feel. This impression is heightened by the absence of fluorescent lighting: Light-emitting diodes (LEDs) allow the color and brightness to be set for individual cabins and dimmed according to day or night needs. The initial lighting, for boarding, is an iridescent blue with the warmth of a summer sky.
This radical change in cabin comfort and feel was developed first for the company's 787 Dreamliner. But in a twist of fate, the 747-8 will deliver these comforts at around the same time as the first 787s enter service, because the Dreamliner, plagued with problems, will be at least three years late. Not only that but the 787's styling feels even better in the 747-8 because the main deck is nearly a foot wider and the sinuously curved roofline is so sexy.
A major irritation of red-eye flights will also be absent: the sudden wake-up blast of unmodulated light. The windows on the 747-8 (eight percent larger than on older 747s) have no shades; they incorporate shading by electrochromatic dimming, which passengers can control through levels from total dark to total light. A full range of digital entertainment, from personal iPods to wide-screen high-definition movies, can be accessed from every seat.
The new comforts extend only so far: The coach seats remain tight, though the seats in premium economy—the rapidly growing new class—will surely be more generous. At the other end of the comfort needle, first-class passengers will enjoy personal "suites" with full-length beds and an array of hotel-like amenities. In the end, it is the airlines' bean counters, not Boeing's, who dispense the luxuries—or withhold them.
Photographs by Dan Winters
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