Pan Am had a secret role in the Manhattan Project
Back in the day, Pan American Airways (“World” was added later) was regarded as this nation’s premier aviation flag carrier. Known and trusted throughout the globe, Pan Am was, for a significant period of time, an iconic air travel brand.
But it was more than that. During perilous times of war, Pan Am, founded in 1927, maintained an important seaplane base in the Bay Area — first at Treasure Island and, later, at what would become San Francisco International Airport.
It became an indispensable national asset.
The airline’s extensive operations spanning six continents possessed the planes, f light crews, mechanics, bases, routes, repair equipment and other crucial amenities needed to support the U. S. military during World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War.
A new book, co-written by John H. Hill, a former curator at SFO’s aviation museum, and Mark Cotta Vaz, chronicles a significant period of Pan Am’s wartime history.
“Pan Am at War” focuses on the airline’s important activities during World War II and the period prior to that conf lict. There is plenty to peruse. But one little- known — and highly secretive at the time — Pan Am effort is particularly revealing.
As America’s involvement in the conf lict continued, U. S. war planners found themselves with a challenge.
They needed supplies of uranium to bolster the Manhattan Project, the vast and expensive effort to build and deliver an atomic weapon before the Axis powers did
here was the most available uranium ore to be found? What was then the Belgian Congo (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) was the place. Among other Allied resources, Pan Am was key to bringing the material back to America.
The airline did so with one of its Clippers, long- haul seaplanes, via an inland lake/ base in the interior in Leopoldville (now Kinshasa).
The route was long and hazardous. One of the clippers heading for the African hinterlands crashed, killing most of the crew and passengers.
That’s just one story among many in the book, which retails for $27.99. Pan Am, by the way, ceased doing business in 1991.
A bulging dossier
Do you remember this presidential promise years ago? “If you like your doctor, you can keep your doctor.” That’s not always true, regardless of the current state of the nation’s health insurance situation.
At some point, a doctor will depart the professional scene. That includes a physician you may prefer. An entire generation of doctors is leaving, whether by choice or not. Age has a lot to do with it.
A Peninsula specialist I had been seeing for many years decided to retire not long ago.
He was competent, focused, often blunt and well- respected. He didn’t sugarcoat his diagnosis. He was my kind of guy. But he’s shutting down his practice.
What to do? Time to find someone else. I did so. Which means I needed to transfer my medical records to the new doctor.
Because the replacement physician was located close by, I decided to take the bulging file in person to his office. But curiosity got the better of me; I had to take a peek at what was inside the weighty folder.
Good heavens. More than two decades of detailed notes, lab reports, test results, observations and conclusions, some not terribly attractive, were right there for inspection.
It was a bit like looking at a very personal (and quite hefty) biography.
When I handed this considerable dossier to a clerk at the new doctor’s place of business, she accepted it, opened it to the introductory page and quickly stated, “Oh, don’t worry, this is private information. I’m not going to read it.”
Well, that’s good news.