MANY OF YOU, exclusive of true aviation buffs, who pick up this book may wonder who is “Kelly” Johnson? Simply to say that he is one of the most honored and highly successful aeronautical engineers, designers, and builders of aircraft of his or any other time is a fact that is only partially documented by some fifty awards and honors appended to this story. Webster defines genius as “extraordinary intellectual power especially as manifested in creative activity.” Though Kelly would deny it, the description fits him to a T.
Aviation, however, is not all or perhaps even the most important element of this story. It is an essential ingredient and backdrop to the unique and insightful story of the man himself that covers a broad spectrum of interest to a wide range of readers. While the story is understated, the reader should be aware of the engineer’s penchant for letting the facts, without emphasis or embellishment, speak for themselves.
I first met Kelly in September of 1945, and later had the distinct pleasure, privilege—and education—of working with him and the “Skunk Works” on an almost daily basis for eleven-plus years from 1955 through 1966. This carried us from almost the inception of the U-2, which incidentally was one of the great bargains the American taxpayer ever realized, to the YF-12, the interceptor that should have been built but wasn’t, and the first four years of the SR-71, the almost unbelievable “Black Bird”—among other projects. It was a unique and productive experience for me and most regrettably one that may never be repeated for this country. Simply put, Kelly’s real legacy is not nearly so much what he has accomplished, but much more how it was done. That is, generally outside—and in many cases in spite of—the so-called regular “system.”
The U-2 and SR-71 are two examples of Skunk Works programs that came in on schedule and under contract costs. Still, despite disclaimers, the Skunk Works, Kelly’s brainchild—once described by Sen. Sam Nunn as a truly unique national asset and former Deputy Secretary of Defense David Packard as a national treasure—to all intents and purposes has ceased to exist. This is an inexcusable and needless loss for the American taxpayer. Thoughtful readers will question the why of this, as well they should.
This and a great deal more is here in the story of an extraordinary man who certainly has had more than his share of it all.
Leo P. Geary
Brigadier General, USAF (Ret.)
Denver, Colo., 1984