When the Captain looked over he knew exactly what it was. He forced the plane to dive, steeply and swiftly
Dec. 1958 over Hermosa Beach at 9000 ft.
“Where did that guy go? He’s supposed to be at our 2 o’clock, probably hiding in that cloud bank.
“Get the tower again and see if you can confirm where that traffic is. I’m gonna enjoy this view. Only time in my career that I’ve done this approach.”
A low pressure system from the north and the characteristic erratic winds of a recent Pacific storm had converged over Los Angeles, making it so unbelievably clear on this winter morning that the passengers and crew were enjoying unrestricted views of the South Bay,
As their Lockheed Super Constellation cruised during the descent, they enjoyed a view usually afforded only to those departing LAX, and then, only for a few seconds..
“LA, this is Pacific Air 718, call sign Wind ‘n’ Sea. Can you confirm traffic in our area?”
“Wind ‘n’ Sea, this is LAX, traffic is at your 2 o’clock and same altitude. Continue your descent to 5000 feet and you should be clear of him.”
“Nevada Air, you have traffic at your 10 o’clock, stay at your altitude. Verify when you have the Connie in sight.”
Silence….
“Nevada Air? Didn’t we hear about one of those guys? Seems one of their crew was flying a Strato-Cruiser from Rio to Acapulco. I forget which airline, and he had multiple engine fires right before landing, and by the time they were wheels down, the entire right wing was fully engulfed. Complete chaos in the cabin. No one was given instructions. Fire guys had to pry open the door and they tossed all passengers down the slides like sacks of mail. Emptied that plane out in 30 seconds.
“The captain, however, was able to free himself first, exiting through a side window in the cockpit. He was found sitting on the nose of his ship. Guess he was gonna conduct the rescue operations from a safe distance. That ended his career in South America.”
The buffeting winds, the approaching cloud bank and the lack of communication from Nevada caused both Pacific Air pilots to put their hands firmly on the wheel and scan the horizon as if they were Allied bombers flying south over the English Channel.
“Pacific Air 718, as soon as you’re ready go ahead with two right turns for the line up to runway 25L. No need to go all the way out to San Nicolas Island before turning around. Zero visibility 16 miles across that point east.”
“Ok, lets do this,” the captain said.
Both pilots grabbed the controls and began a 30 degree turn to the right, a maneuver that was helped by a gentle updraft that lifted the back of the aircraft while pushing the nose down at a slight angle, just enough for a look at the whitecaps bouncing into each other and against a Japanese container ship on its way to Long Beach. The passengers and crew could see the edge of the left wing touch the cloud bank that the flight was trying to avoid.
As they leveled out and headed north, the first officer thought he saw something, a shadow, maybe. When the captain looked over he knew exactly what it was. He forced the plane to dive steeply and swiftly enough for the passengers who were not belted in to suffer bruises and missing teeth as their faces smacked the tray in front of them. Then he rolled the plane left. But the two maneuvers were not enough for the airliners to stay clear of one another. There was a loud crack followed by a shockwave that started at the tail and reverberated through the fuselage to the cockpit, shaking the throttles out of the crew’s hands.
The Constellation’s left wing had severed the Nevada airliner’s tail. Neither plane’s crew was any longer in full control of their aircraft.
Though it lost most of its tail, the Nevada airliner still had enough float to look for land or sand to put the vessel down on. Fifteen miles west sat the flat, uninhabited Santa Barbara Island.
The Pacific Air told the tower they’d been hit and asked that anyone in the air near them get out of the way.
Traffic control requested that they do a flyby over the field so they could see if the gear was down, but the Wind ‘n’ Sea crew thought that was a bad idea.
“LA, either way, we have to land. We have some control and don’t want to push our luck,” the captain told the tower.
The Constellation made a pretty hard landing, but was able to taxi to the gate on its own.
Back over the Pacific, the stumbling Nevada airliner was within sight of the island when the crew made the decision to lift the nose up slightly while cutting power to the engines 100 yards off shore.
The plan was to belly flop onto the sand, and get the 17 passengers out as quickly as possible. Upon contact with the beach, the airliner skimmed through the sand for about 1,500 feet. The right fuel tank hit a sharp rock, causing fuel to leak into the overheated engines. Smoke began to fill the fuselage, but the crew thought they had everyone evacuated in 30 seconds. Unfortunately, a quick head count revealed only 16 passengers.
The captain climbed back aboard the plane. Though the plane was not engulfed in flames, the smoke was toxic and the plane and could ignite from even the slightest crackle of static electricity. The captain looked down the aisle and saw a pair of legs sticking out from the area between the last row and the galley. The passenger’s arm had become stuck between the seats during the belly flop. His eyes were wide open and he was no longer breathing. The captain worked to free the man. An autopsy would reveal that both men died from smoke inhalation.
For about 15 years following the accident, usually around Christmas time, the Wind ‘n’ Sea passengers met at a recently closed Hermosa Beach landmark and raised a toast to the night they all bumped into each other over the Pacific and to their amazing crews. All promised to keep the legacy of the Wind ‘N’ Sea alive, even if it was just by naming their dogs, boats or bikes in its honor.
