Swansong

Swansong (pronounced swon-sawng)

(1) The last act or manifestation of someone or something; farewell appearance.

(2) According to legend, the first and last song a dying swan was said to sing.

1831: A compound word, the construct being swan + song and a calque from the original German Schwanenlied (that construct being Schwan + Lied).  Swan dated from before 900 and was from the Middle English & Old English swan, from the Proto-Germanic swanaz (swan, literally “the singing bird”), from the primitive Indo-European swonhz- & swenhz- (to sing, make sound”).  It was cognate with the West Frisian swan, the Low German Swaan, the Dutch zwaan, the German Schwan, the Norwegian svane and the Swedish svan.  It was related also to the Old English ġeswin (melody, song) & swinsian (to make melody), the Latin sonus (sound), the Old Norse svanr, the Middle Low German swōn and the Russian звон (zvon) (ringing) & звук (zvuk) (sound).  Song was from the Middle English & Old English song & sang (noise, song, singing, chanting; poetry; a poem to be sung or recited, psalm, lay), from the Proto-Germanic sangwaz (singing, song), from the primitive Indo-European songwh-o- (singing, song) from sengwh- (to sing). It was cognate with the Scots sang & song (singing, song), the Saterland Frisian Song, the West Frisian sang, the Dutch zang, the Low German sang, the German Sang (singing, song), the Swedish sång (song), the Norwegian Bokmål sang, the Norwegian Nynorsk (song), the Icelandic söngur and the Ancient Greek ὀμφή (omphḗ) (voice, oracle).  It was related to the Gothic saggws and the Old High German sang.  Swansong is a noun; the noun plural is swansongs.  Constructions like "swan-singing" are structurally correct but not used. 

The English swansong (which has always existed also as swan song and swan-song) was a calque of the German Schwanenlied (Schwan (swan) + Lied (song)) (also as Schwanengesang), the term alluding to the old belief that swans normally are mute but burst into beautiful song moments before they die.  Although the idea is much older, swansong appeared first in English translation in 1831 but did not pass into common use until after 1890 which is perhaps surprising given Chaucer mentions the singing of swans as early as the late fourteenth century.  To date, Lindsay Lohan's last single release was Back to Me (2020), released on the Casablanca label.  She has hinted it may be included on a yet to be released third album but thus far, musically, it's her swansong.

The romantic roadster's swansong

Ferrari's Dino 246 F1 on Monza's famous banking, Italian Grand Prix, September 1960.

The swansong for the front-engined open wheel racing cars which had since the early twentieth century dominated top-flight motorsport came in the 1960s.  In 1959, both the driver’s and constructor’s championships were claimed using rear-mid engined machines and as the new decade began, it was obvious to all in the once unpredictable behaviour of the layout had been mastered (at least on race tracks when in the hands of expert drivers) and the opening eight rounds of the season did nothing to change that view, mid-engined cars winning the lot.  Ferrari, still running the front-engined Dino 246 F1, were not happy and that meant most of Italy was similarly grumpy, something which induced the organizers of the Italian Grand Prix to stage their event under conditions designed to suit the Scuderia’s last remaining advantage: straight-line speed.  Accordingly, it was announced the event would be held using the combined road and oval course at the Monza Autodrome, making what was already the championship’s highest speed circuit faster still.  With both the driver's & constructor's titles already decided, other leading teams opted to boycott the event, attracted by neither the prospect of their delicate machines being subjected to the notorious roughness of the concrete banking nor the prospect of a high-speed accident following mechanical damage.  As planned, Scuderia Ferrari enjoyed a 1-2-3 result, delighting the Italian crowd.  It was the last World Championship grand prix won by a front-engined car.

The rebodied 246 F1, Lady Wigram Trophy weekend, RNZAF (Royal New Zealand Air Force) Wigram Air Base, Christchurch, New Zealand, 1964.

The winning Dino 246 F1 therefore became a machine of some historical significance but even though Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) may have suspected the success would not again be repeated, he was not sentimental about yesterday’s car, happy usually to sell anything obsolete to gain funds so he might build something with which to win tomorrow.  The 246 F1 victorious at Monza winner was thus sold to a private racer in New Zealand who, with a similar pragmatism, removed the 2.5 litre V6 in favour of the greater power and torque offered by a 3.0 litre V12 Testa Rossa engine in sports car trim.  In that form, he campaigned the hybrid Ferrari for two quite successful years but found no buyers when he tried to sell it, most agreeing with Il Commendatore that, big engine and all, it was just another, uncompetitive relic with the engine in the wrong place.  Thinking laterally, the owner took a very modern approach, having a coachbuilder fabricate in sixteen gauge aluminium a body strikingly similar to the factory’s own 250 GTOs, creating a very fast road car and one of the few on the road with the underpinnings of the machine which won an Italian Grand Prix.  The rules were rather more relaxed in those days.  In that form it was run until 1967 when it was sold, along with its original body, to an English collector who restored it to it with its V6 engine to the configuration in which it ran at Monza in 1960.  It’s still seen as an entry in historic events on the European calendar.

Ran just before crashed, nicely patinaed, one headlamp believed matching numbers and many parts still original: 1954 Ferrari 500 Mondial, as sold (left & centre) and in period (right).

To Enzo Ferrari for whom old race cars were usually just assets to be sold, it would in 1960 have amused him had anyone suggested decades later, people would pay millions of dollars for old, battered Ferraris, some of which never came close to winning anything.  Improbable as it would have sounded, he might have conceded such things could one day happen if the vehicles had four wheels and were drivable but for that to be achieved by wrecked 1954 Ferrari 500 Mondial which in August 2023 sold at auction for US$1.875 million would have been beyond comprehension.  The second Mondial built and one of 13 examples with Pininfarina spider coachwork, it was one of the rare “customer” race cars which used 2.0 litre , four cylinder engines and was campaigned extensively in Italy and the US where, sometime between 1963-1965 (the stories vary) it crashed and was incinerated, apparently while fitted with a Chevrolet V8, the swap at the time a common path to cheap, reliable power.

Some assembly required.

The provenance was solid if not illustrious.  It was raced by a one-time Scuderia Ferrari team driver and its many appearances included starts in the Mille Miglia, Targa Florio, and Imola Grand Prix.  Although the original engine was long gone, the sale included a comparable 3.0 liter Tipo 119 Lampredi four while the transmission was original and thus the prized “matching numbers”.  Belying the (usually undeserved reputation) Italian corporations have for chaotic record keeping, the supplied documentation was an impressive wad, including the precious factory build sheets and homologation papers.  In the hands of experts, such a thing can be restored although without the original engine, it hard to predict if it will realise the same value as the US$4.15 million a fully-restored Mondial (chassis# 0448 MD and all “matching numbers”) achieved in 2019.

The Offenhauser-powered Watson Special, winner of the 1964 Indianapolis 500.

In the US, the swansong of the front-engined roadsters at the Indianapolis 500 came a little later, the last victory coming in 1964.  As in so many things however, the end came quickly and the next year a solitary roadster completed the full race distance, finishing a creditable fifth.  The last roadster to appear in the event in 1968 qualified on the second to last row of the grid and completed only nine laps of the 200, retiring with a collapsed piston.  That run was at the time little noted but it’s now remembered as the swansong of the front-engined roadsters in top flight racing.

LP (long playing) album label for Led Zeppelin’s Presence (1976), issued by Atlantic Recording Corporation on the Swan Song label.

The English graphic art production house Hipgnosis (best known for album covers which were (in the pre-CD (compact disc) era) for a quarter century-odd a vibrant part of the pop-art world) used William Rimmer’s Evening as a model for the logo of Swan Song Records, set up in 1974 by the English band Led Zeppelin (1968-1974) after the expiration of their distribution contract with Atlantic Records (which anyway handled the distribution of Swan Song’s release).  The idea was to combine the imagery of Rimmer with the wings of a white swan and the notion of “songs”.  At the time, the popular music business substantially was controlled by the major labels and Swan Song was one of a number of (usually short-lived) labels created in an attempt to give musicians who could not secure a recording contract a way of having their output reach audiences.  Although the label remains active for the purposes of re-issuing older material, after the surviving members of Led Zeppelin disbanded in 1980, there were only spasmodic releases until in 1983 it was announced active operations would cease and no new contracts would be executed.

Evening (The Fall of Day) (1869–1870), charcoal, crayon), oil & graphite on canvas by English-born US artist William Rimmer (1816–1879), Museum of Fine Arts Boston, Massachusetts.

Winged humans have been in imagination at least since the tale of Ικαρος (Icarus) was told in the mythology of Antiquity.  In the best-known version, Icarus was the son of Daedalus and one of Minos' slaves called Naucrate and it was when Daedalus explained to Ariadne how Theseus could find a way to escape the Labyrinth, so enraged was Minos he imprisoned Daedalus and his son in the structure.  Undeterred, Daedalus took fallen feathers and fashioned wings for them both, applying wax to fix them to their shoulders; a cautious parent, Daedalus warned Icarus to fly neither too close to the ground nor too near the sun.  Icarus however was headstrong and, finding the power of flight intoxicating, soared higher and higher until he was so close to the sun the heat melted the wax, disintegrating his wings; denied flight by hubris, he fell into the sea around the island of Samos and drowned.  As a tribute, the sun god Helios called the body of water the Ικάριο Πέλαγος (Ikario Pelagos) (Icarian Sea), the name still used of the stretches of the Aegean between the Cyclades and Asia Minor (the modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye, still often referred to as Turkey)).  Other versions from Antiquity have him drowning in nautical accidents but generally his name is used as a cautionary tale about the consequences of not heeding the advice of those who know better although, curiously, there’s also the odd reference to him having invented woodwork and carpentry.  In Rimmer’s evocative drawing, the model has always been presumed to be the doomed Icarus but the artist may also have had in mind the fallen angel Lucifer, the imagery of a prideful descent perhaps influenced by John Milton’s (1608–1674) Paradise Lost (1667) or Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)). 

Richard Strauss, Vier Letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs)

Richard Strauss (1864-1949), was the last great German composer in the Romantic tradition and Vier Letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) was his swansong, his final work.  Inspired by the poetry of Nobel Laureate Hermann Hesse (1877-1962) and Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788-1857), all four are pieces of exquisite beauty but Strauss didn’t live to hear them performed, the premiere delivered posthumously in London in 1950, sung by Kirsten Flagstad (1895–1962), accompanied by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under Wilhelm Furtwängler (1886–1954).

Many notable sopranos have sung the songs but the definitive performance remains the 1965 recording by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (1915-2006) with the Radio-Symphonieorchester Berlin under György Széll (1897–1970).  (CD: EMI Classics Cat: 0724356696020[9]).

Four Last Songs Since their collaboration, the need again to record the songs vanished; it's simply not possible to improve on  Schwarzkoph's achievement in 1965.  Re-mastered versions from the original tapes have been released and they're of interest to audiophiles but add nothing to the atmospherics so well captured in the Berlin sessions. 

Spring (Hermann Hesse)

Wandering in darkness under your high
vaulting branches, I have dreamed so long
of your green leaves and breezy blue sky,
the vibrant fragrances–and the bird song!
 
Now, as you open your robe of winter night,
your brilliance staggers every sense.
The world sparkles in the light
of a Miracle, your recurring presence.
 
I feel the healing touch
of softer days, warm and tender.
My limbs tremble–happily, too much–
as I stand inside your splendor.

September (Hermann Hesse)

The garden mourns.
The flowers fill with cold rain.
Summer shivers
in the chill of its dying domain.
 
Yet summer smiles, enraptured
by the garden’s dreamy aphasia
as gold, drop by drop, falls
from the tall acacia.
 
With a final glance at the roses–
too weak to care, it longs for peace–
then, with darkness wherever it gazes,
summer slips into sleep.

When I Go to Sleep (Hermann Hesse)

Now that day has exhausted me
I give myself over, a tired child,
to the night and to my old friends, the stars–
my watchful guardians, quiet and mild.
 
Hands–let everything go.
Head–stop thinking.
I am content to follow
where my senses are sinking.
 
Into the darkness, I swim out free:
Soul, released from all your defenses,
enter the magic, sidereal circle
where the gathering of souls commences.

 At Sunset (Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff)

We have passed through sorrow and joy,
walking hand in hand.
Now we need not seek the way:
we have settled in a peaceful land.
 
The dark comes early to our valley,
and the night mist rises.
Two dreamy larks sally
forth–our souls’ disguises.
 
We let their soaring flight delight
us, then, overcome by sleep
at close of day, we must alight
before we fly too far, or dive too deep.
 
The great peace here is wide and still
and rich with glowing sunsets:
If this is death, having had our fill
of getting lost, we find beauty, –No regrets.

Rat

Rat (pronounced ratt)

(1) In zoology, any of several long-tailed rodents of the family Muridae, of the genus Rattus and related genera, distinguished from the mouse by being larger.

(2) In (scientifically inaccurate) informal use, any of the numerous members of several rodent families (eg voles & mice) that resemble true rats in appearance, usually having a pointy snout, a long, bare tail, and body length greater than 5 inches (120 mm).

(3) In hairdressing, a wad of shed hair used as part of a hairstyle; a roll of material used to puff out the hair, which is turned over it.

(4) In the slang of certain groups in London, vulgar slang for the vagina.

(5) As “to rat on” or “to rat out”, to betray a person or party, especially by telling their secret to an authority or enemy; to turn someone in.

(6) One of a brace of rodent-based slang terms to differentiate between the small-block (mouse motor) and big-block (rat motor) Chevrolet V8s built mostly in the mid-late twentieth century but still available (as "crate" engines) from US manufacturers.

(7) As RAT, a small turbine that is connected to a hydraulic pump, or electrical generator, installed in an aircraft and used as a power source.

(8) Slang term for a scoundrel, especially men of dubious morality.

(9) In the criminal class and in law enforcement, slang for an informer.

(10) In politics, slang for a person who abandons or betrays his party or associates, especially in a time of trouble.

(11) Slang for a person who frequents a specified place (mall rat, gym rat etc).

(12) In hairdressing, a pad with tapered ends formerly used in women's hair styles to give the appearance of greater thickness.

(13) In the slang of blue-water sailors, a place in the sea with rapid currents and crags where a ship is prone to being broken apart in stormy weather.

(14) In zoology (in casual use), a clipping of muskrat.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English ratte, rat & rotte, from the Old English ræt & rætt, and the Latin rodere from the Proto-Germanic rattaz & rattō (related also to the West Frisian rôt, the German Ratz & Ratte and the Swedish råtta & the Dutch rat), of uncertain origin but perhaps from the primitive Indo-European rehed- (to scrape, scratch, gnaw).  Zoological anthropologists however point out it’s possible there were no populations of rats in the Northern Europe of antiquity, and the Proto-Germanic word may have referred to a different animal.  The attestation of this family of words dates from the twelfth century.  Some of the Germanic cognates show considerable consonant variation such as the Middle Low German ratte & radde and the Middle High German rate, ratte & ratze, the irregularity perhaps symptomatic of a late dispersal of the word, although some etymologists link it with the Proto-Germanic stem raþō (nom); ruttaz (gen), the variations arising from the re-modellings in the descendants.  Rat is a noun & verb, ratting is a noun & verb, rattery is a noun, ratted is a vern & ajective, rattan, rattish & ratlike are adjectives and rattily is an adverb; the noun plural is rats.

Mall rats.  In North America and other developed markets, there is now less scope for mall habitués because changing consumer behavior has resulted in a dramatic reduction in the volume of transactions conducted in physical stores and some malls are being either abandoned or re-purposed (health hubs and educational facilities being a popular use).  

The human distaste for these large rodents has made rat a productive additive in English.  Since the twelfth century it’s been applied (usually to a surname) to persons either held to resemble rats or share with them some characteristic or perception of quality with them. The specific sense of "one who abandons his associates for personal advantage" is from the 1620s, based on the belief that rats leave a ship about to sink or a house about to fall, and this led to the meaning "traitor” or “informant" although, perhaps surprisingly, there no reference to rat in this sense prior to 1902 where as the modern-sounding sense of associative frequency (mall-rat, gym-rat etc) was noted as early as 1864, firstly as “dock-rat”.  Dr Johnson dates “to smell a rat”, based on the behaviour of cats, to the 1540s.  Sir Boyle Roche (1736-1807), was an Irish MP famous for mangled phrases and mixed metaphors, of the best remembered of which was “I smell a rat; I see him forming in the air and darkening the sky; but I'll nip him in the bud".

There’s the rat-terrier (1852), the rat-catcher (1590s), the rat-snake (1818), rat-poison, (1799), the rat trap (late 1400s), the rat-pack (1951) and rat-hole which in 1812, based on the holes gnawed in woodwork by rats meant “nasty, messy place”, the meaning extended in 1921 to a "bottomless hole" (especially one where money goes).  Ratfink (1963) was juvenile slang either coined or merely popularized by US custom car builder Ed "Big Daddy" Roth (1932-2001), who rendered a stylised rat on some of his creations, supposedly to lampoon Mickey Mouse.  One memorable use came from Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013) who, becoming frustrated at the way negotiations were going at the 2009 Copenhagen climate change summit, remarked “…those Chinese fuckers are trying to rat-fuck us”.  Said to be in use as US college slang as early as the late 1950s (when it entered political use isn’t clear and one could imagine it coming from the lips of Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; VPOTUS 1961-1963 and POTUS 1963-1969) though possibly not from John Foster Dulles (1888–1959; US Secretary of State 1953-1959)), “ratfucking” is a generalized term describing covert political sabotage, dirty tricks and low skulduggery.  As Dr Rudd, suggested, the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) are as skilled at such things as political operatives anywhere.

In politics, “ratting” is the act of being elected to an assembly as a member of one political party and, once ensconced, changing party affiliation.  Ratting has a long (and not always noble) history and in some places (most famously the exciting world of the Papua New Guinea parliament) is such a feature of political life its regarded as normal behavior but in most of the English-speaking world it tends to be viewed with distaste, those practicing the art thought more often opportunistic than principled.  The “decorative” word for the act is “tergiversate” but that's rare, the more evocative “ratting” much preferred and while both terms can be applied to changes of opinion or alignment in many fields, they're most often heard or seen in speech or writing about politics & politicians, a rich source of mendacity and inconsistency.  So common is political tergiversation that the frequency with which it’s reported has compelled the coining or adaptation of other terms including “flip-flopping”, “turncoating”, “U-turning” and “ratting”, some politicians known even to have embraced them.  Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in 1901 entered the UK’s House of Commons as a Tory (Conservative), having on the hustings lambasted his opponents in the Liberal Party as “prigs, prudes and faddists” and once in parliament he warmed to the topic, accusing the Liberals of “…hiding from the public view like a toad in a hole”, adding “…when it stands forth in all its hideousness we Tories will have to hew the filthy object limb from limb.”  That told the country what he must at the time have thought yet in less than three years he’d stand on the same platform and ejaculate: “I hate the Tories.  I am an English Liberal.”  Obviously, that was a nailing of the colors to the mast yet by 1924, after a turbulent couple of decades, he returned to the Tory benches, all apparently forgiven (though certainly not forgotten).  Whether those tergiversations were acts of principle or a sniffing of the electoral breeze can be debated but Churchill himself took the view he’d done it all with some panache, joking in his club: “Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain ingenuity to re-rat.”

Generous in spirit, Churchill was prepared to offer procedural advice even to his nominal opponents.  After entering the House of Commons as a Liberal after the 1929 general election, William Jowitt (1885-1957) had been offered the post of attorney-general by the incoming Labour Party administration (unlike the modern era, Labour was at that point “short of good lawyers”) so ratted on the Liberals and changed affiliation.  Although, in the circumstances, he thought it right to resign his seat and seek re-endorsement under his new tag (he secured an increased majority at the by-election), his former colleagues in the Liberal Party remained unimpressed by the ratting and that his appointment was bundled with a knighthood (then customary for both an attorney-general and solicitor-general) added to their sense of betrayal.  Discussing the matter with cronies in the House of Commons Smoking Room, Churchill wickedly was sympathetic: “Poor fellow.  He didn’t know how to do it.  Now if he had come to me, I could have instructed him in the technique of tergiversation.”  Sir William’s problems got worse before they got better.  Expelled from the Labour Party in 1931 after being one of a number of members to join the National Government formed to deal with the crisis of the Great Depression, he lost his seat and didn’t return to parliament until 1939, the Labour party having re-admitted him in 1936.  He served in the coalition government (1940-1945) and was then appointed Lord Chancellor after Labour’s landslide victory in the 1945 general election, sitting on the Woolsack until 1951; granted an earldom in 1952, he led the opposition in the Lords until 1955.  His textbook, Jowitt's Dictionary of English Law, was published posthumously in 1959 and, now in its sixth (2023) edition, remains a standard work of reference throughout the common-law world.

Cricket's most infamous rat (mullygrubber), MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground), 1 February, 1981.  In the 1970s brown & beige really had been a fashionable color combination but this was the combo's death knell.

Rat has a specific meaning in the cricketing slang of the West Indies, referring to a ball which, after being delivered by the bowler, rather than bouncing off the pitch at some angle, instead runs along the ground, possibly hitting the stumps with sufficient force to dislodge the bails, dismissing the batsman, the idea being of a rat scurrying across the ground.  In Australian slang, the same delivery is called a mullygrubber which, although it sounds old-fashioned, is said to date only from the 1970s, the construct thought based on the dialectal rural term mully (dusty, powdery earth) + grub(ber) in the sense of the grubs which rush about in the dirt if disturbed in such an environment.  Such deliveries are wholly serendipitous (for the bowler) and just bad luck (for the batsman) because it's not possible for such as ball to be delivered on purpose; they happen only because of the ball striking some crack or imperfection in the pitch which radically alters it usual course to a flat trajectory.  If a batsman is dismissed as a result, it's often called a "freak ball" or "freak dismissal".  Of course if a ball is delivered underarm a rat is easy to effect but if a batsman knows one is coming, while it's hard to score from, it's very easy to defend against.  The most infamous mullygrubber was bowled at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) on 1 February 1981 when, with New Zealand needing to score six (by hitting the ball, on the full, over the boundary) of the final delivery of the match, the Australian bowler sent down an underarm delivery, the mullygrubber denying the batsman the opportunity to score and securing an Australian victory.  Although then permissible within the rules, it was hardly in the spirit of the game and consequently, the regulations were changed.

The Ram Air Turbine

RAT (Ram Air Turbine) diagram.

The RAT (Ram Air Turbine) is a small, propeller-driven turbine connected to a hydraulic pump, or electrical generator, installed in an aircraft to generate emergency power.  In an emergency, when electrical power is lost, the RAT drops from the fuselage or wing into the air-stream where it works as a mini wind-turbine, providing sufficient power for vital systems (flight controls, linked hydraulics and flight-critical instrumentation).  In use, there is a lag between the RAT being activated (ie entering the airstream) and the electrical power being available to systems and while usually less than a minute, pilots confirm this can be "a very long minute" to those at the controls of an aircraft that has lost power while at high altitude.

Vickers VC10 in BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation (1939-1974) livery.

Built between 1962-1970, although fast and a favorite with passengers because the rear-engine layout guaranteed a quiet cabin, only 54 VC10s were built and, in a market dominated by Boeing's epoch-making 707 (1956-1978), success proved elusive.  Even before the 747 in 1969 ushered in the wide-body era it was clear the elegant VC10 was a cul-de-sac but the airframe enjoyed a long career.  The RAF (Royal Air Force) had some configured as VIP transports and the last of those used as in-flight re-fueling platforms (tankers) weren't retired until 2013.  Most modern commercial airliners are equipped with RATs, the first being installed on the Vickers VC10 in the early 1960s and the big Airbus A380 has the largest RAT propeller in current use at 64 inches (1.63 metres) but most are about half this size.  It’s expected as modern airliners begin increasingly to rely on electrical power, either propeller sizes will have to increase or additional RATs may be required, the latter sometimes the desirable choice because of the design limitations imposed by the height of landing gear.  A typical large RAT can produce from 5 to 70 kW but smaller, low air-speed models may generate as little as 400 watts.  Early free-fall nuclear weapons used rats to power radar altimeters and firing circuits; RATS being longer-lasting and more reliable than batteries.  

A RAT deployed.

The airline manufacturers have been exploring whether on-board fuel-cell technology can be adapted to negate the need for RAT, at least in the smaller, single-aisle aircraft where the weight of such a unit might be equal to or less than the RAT equipment.  The attraction of housing in an airliner's wing-body fairing is it would be a step towards the long-term goal of eliminating an airliner's liquid-fuelled auxiliary turbine power unit.  Additionally, if the size-weight equation could be achieved, there’s the operational advantage that a fuel-cell is easier to test than a RAT because, unlike the RAT, the fuel-cell can be tested without having to power-up most of the system.  The physics would also be attractive, the power from a fuel cell higher at lower altitudes where as the output of a RAT declines as airspeed decreases, a potentially critical matter given it’s during the relatively slow approach to a landing that power is needed to extend the trailing edge of the wing flaps and operate other controls.

If the weight and dimensions of the fuel cell is at least "comparable" to a RAT and the safety and durability testing is successful, at least on smaller aircrafts, fuel-cells might be an attractive option for new aircraft although, at this stage, the economics of retro-fitting are unlikely to be compelling.  Longer term research is also looking at a continuously running fuel cell producing oxygen-depleted exhaust gas for fuel-tank inerting (a safety system that reduces the risk of combustion in aircraft fuel tanks by lowering the oxygen concentration in the ullage (the space above the fuel) to below the level needed to support a fire, typically by replacing oxygen with an inert gas like nitrogen), and water for passenger amenities, thereby meaning an aircraft could be operated on the on the ground without burning any jet-fuel, the fuel-cell providing power for air conditioning and electrical systems.

Period photograph of an operational Messerschmitt Me 163 (left) and a Me 163 on static display, National Museum of the USAF (US Air Force), Wright-Patterson AFB (Air Force Base), Dayton, Ohio (right).

The only rocket-powered fighter ever used in combat, the Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet (1944-1945) had a small RAT in the nose to provide electrical power.  The early prototypes of the more successful (and much more influential) Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter also had a propeller in the nose for the first test flights but it wasn't a a RAT; it was attached to a piston engine installed as an emergency backup because of the chronic unreliability of the early jet engines.  It was only military necessity that forced the Luftwaffe (the German air force) to commit to combat the only rocket-powered fighter ever deployed, the Me 163 Komet powered by a rocket that burned a methanol hydrazine mix with hydrogen- peroxide as an oxidizer.  During the 1930s, almost all research into rocket propellants was undertaken in Germany, the military being interested in missiles with which to deliver warheads against long-range targets and, even then, some scientists were imagining space flight, usually with a manned visit to the moon in mind.  The experimental fuels were classed as:

Monergols: Single ingredient fuels.
Hypergols: Fuel which ignites upon constituents being combined.
Non-hypergols: Multi-constituent fuel requiring external ignition.
Lithergols: Solid / liquid hybrids.

Revolutionary, the design offered a uniquely fast rate of climb and a speed in combat more than 100 mph (160 km/h) faster than allied fighters but was hard to handle and the fuel was both highly volatile and prone to spontaneous combustion in flight or on the ground.  In air engagements, the speed that was so advantageous in reaching a target made it difficult for a pilot to maintain contact, the long bursts of fire needed usually to bring down the big bombers rarely sustained.  Most authorities estimate some 370 Me 163s were built but only 60-80 achieved operational status and they shot down only nine allied aircraft.  The Komet effectiveness was limited by its high fuel consumption that limited flight duration (the time available in the combat zone typically less than eight minutes) but the Luftwaffe's records confirm that on some days, such was the accident rate, not even half the little craft even reached operational height.  Not only was it a difficult machine to handle but, late in the war, resources were so strained that training was limited and few of the Komet's pilots had more than a few hours experience in the novel craft before deployment.  To make matters worse, although in powered flight its speed make it close to invulnerable to attack, once the fuel was burned, to return to base it had to glide back to the runway and of those lost to allied fighters, most were shot-down during landing or on the ground.  Even landing was a challenge, the undercarriage jettisoned after take-off with landings undertaken on a skid, the inevitable jolts and vibrations sometimes trigging the highly combustible fuel-mix to ignite, the subsequent inferno liable to consume both airframe and pilot.    

Early drawing of Me 163 prototype.  Historically, the Komet remains a one-off, no rocket-powered fighters since manufactured.  

It was another example of the impressive wartime technology developed by German scientists and engineers that failed to realise the possibilities offered.  Had the resources expended on the Komet instead been devoted to improving the Wasserfall (waterfall) rocket, Allied air losses might have been significantly greater.  The Wasserfall was a surface-to-air missile explicitly designed to counter high altitude bombers and used a two-stage system: (1) a solid-fuel booster rocket for launch after which (2) a liquid-fuel rocket would propel the missile to its target.  A glimpse of the future, it was guided by a radar system that tracked the target & transmitted guidance commands and was designed to be integrated with other ground-based anti-aircraft defenses such as flak batteries.  Ultimately unsuccessful because the time and resources needed for development were never available, like the V1 (an early cruise missile) and V2 (the first operational ballistic missile), the hardware, personnel and data that fell into Allied hands at the end of the war saved (on both sides of the Iron Curtain) decades of peace-time work in projects including surface to air & air to air missiles, the space programme (notably the moon landing) and the development of the big ICBMs (intercontinental ballistic missiles).  In action only between 1944-1945, tactically, it was a failure, losses far exceeding kills, but it influenced the next generation of military airframes being developed for supersonic flight and that role in the history of flight means the Me 163 is better remembered than many more successful craft ; like the V2, it was a pioneer and shares with the big rocket the unusual distinction of more personnel involved in its development, construction and operation being killed than were its victims in combat.

Peregrine Falcon (top), Northrop B-2 Spirit (centre) and Messerschmitt Me 163 (bottom).

By 1937 when sketches for what would become the Me 163 first appeared on drawing boards, biomimicry had long been a technique used by those designing airframes, birds the obvious inspiration.  For those seeking speed, the Peregrine Falcon may be a good choice; while many have been sceptical about the “calculated maximum theoretical speed” of the “ideal Peregrine Falcon” being between 250-388 mph (400-625 km/h) depending on altitude (and thus air density), Guinness World Records has accepted the bird’s speed being recorded at 242 mph (389 km/h) in a dive.  Despite that, there are ornithologists who doubt such a velocity was ever attained and claim a top speed around 150 mph (240 km/h) is likely more realistic.  Whatever the truth, it’s clear the shape of the Peregrine Falcon is well-suited high speed dives and its profile strikingly is similar to that of the Northrop B-2 Spirit, a nuclear-capable subsonic strategic “stealth” bomber operated by the USAF (US Air Force).  Designed during the High Cold War, the USAF planned to equip squadrons with more than a hundred of the things but as production began in 1989, the Berlin Wall fell and within two years the Soviet Union had collapsed, transforming the geopolitics and thus military needs.  By the time the leisurely production concluded in 2000, only 21 had left the line.  While there were many factors contributing to the lines of the Me 163 and B2 and their similarities in profiles with the speedy bird may be more coincidental than aeronautical, nature does often produce shapes ideal for the niche they inhabit.

The Ram Air System   

1974 Suzuki's air-cooled GT380 Sebring with Ram Air System (left) and 1975 Suzuki GT750 with water-cooling (right).

Seen also on many US muscle cars during the 1960s & 1970s, another use of the "ram-air" was to "scoop & feed" cool air, either to induction systems where the lower temperature was advantageous or simply as a cooling agent.  Suzuki formalized the use as their RAS (Ram Air System), fitted to the GT380 Sebring (1972-1980) and GT550 Indy (1972-1977) as well as (off and on) several versions of the smaller, two-cylinder models.  It wasn’t used on the water-cooled GT750 Le Mans (1972-1977) because the radiator acted to impede the airflow to the engine.  The GT380, GT550 and GT750 were two-stroke triples noted for an unusual 3-into-4 exhaust system in which the central header-pipe was bifurcated, thus permitting four tail-pipes.  There was no justification in engineering for this (indeed it added cost and weight) and it existed purely for visual effect, allowing an emulation of the look on the four-cylinder Hondas and Kawasakis.  Ironically, despite the additional metal, the asymmetric 3-into-3 system on the Kawasaki triples (1969-1976) is better remembered although the charismatic (if sometimes lethal) qualities of the machines may be a factor in that; exhaust systems do exert a powerful fascination for motor-cyclists.  The RAS was nothing more than a cast aluminum shroud fixed atop the cylinder head to direct air-flow, enhancing upper cylinder cooling and while tests in the 1960s confirmed the effectiveness of “force feeding” cooler air directly into induction systems but whether Suzuki's RAS delivered more efficient cooling isn’t clear.  When the twin-cylinder GT250 Hustler (1971-1981 and thus pre-dating the pornography magazine Hustler, first published in 1974) was revised in 1976, the RAS was deleted and replaced by conventional fins without apparent ill-effect but the RAS was light, cheap to produce, maintenance-free and looked sexy so even if the thermal effects were margins, some advantages were certainly there.  Interestingly, the companion GT185 (1973-1978) retained the RAS for the model’s entire production.

Big and small-block Chevrolet V8s: the Rat and the Mouse

Small and big-block Chevrolet V8s compared, the small-block (mouse) to the left in each image, the big-block (rat) to the right.

Mouse and rat are informal terms used respectively to refer to the classic small (1955-2003) and big-block Chevrolet V8s (1958-2021).  The small-block was first named after a rodent although the origin is contested; either it was (1) an allusion to “mighty mouse” a popular cartoon character of the 1950s, the idea being the relatively small engine being able to out-perform many bigger units from other manufacturers or (2) an allusion to the big, heavy Chrysler Hemi V8s (the first generation (Firepower) 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre), 354 (5.8) & 392 (6.4) versions) being known as “the elephant”, the idea based on the widely held belief elephants are scared of mice (which may actually be true although the reason appears not to be the long repeated myth it’s because they fear the little rodents might climb up their trunk).  Zoologically, "bee" might have been a better choice; elephants definitely are scared of bees.  The mouse (small-block) and rat (big-block) distinction is simple to understand: the big block is externally larger although, counterintuitively, the internal displacement of some mouse motors was greater than some rats.  

1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396 (with 402 cid V8).

Whether that seeming anomaly (actually common throughout the industry during the big-block era) amused or disturbed the decision-makers at Chevrolet isn't known but in 1970 when the small block 400 (6.6) was introduced, simultaneously the big-block 396 (6.5) was enlarged to 402 (6.6) but the corporation then muddied the waters by continuing to call the 402 a "Turbo-Jet 396" when fitted to the intermediate class Chevelle, the rationale presumably that "SS 396" had such strong "brand recognition".  Available since 1965, by 1969 the SS 396 Chevelle was finally out-selling the Pontiac GTO (which in 1964 had seeded the muscle car movement) so the attachment was understandable.  Further to confuse people, the 400 was advertised as the "Turbo-Fire 400" while if fitted to the full-size line, the 402 was called the "Turbo-Jet 400".  Presumably, the assumption was anyone understanding the 400 & 402 ecosystems would buy the one they wanted while those not in the know would neither notice nor care.  Nor was the deviation in displacement between what was on the badge and what lay beneath the hood (bonnet) exclusive to Chevrolet, there being a long list of things not quite what was on the label although the true specifications usually were listed in the documentation and even the advertising.  The variations occurred for a number of reasons but rarely was there an attempt to deceive, even if sometimes things were left unstated or relegated to the small print.

In the matter of the “427 Cobra” that was really a “428”

That’s not to say there were no disputes about the difference between what was “in the tin” compared with what was “on the tin”.  In June 1969, a certain Mr Karl Francis “Fritz” Schiffmayer (1935-2010) of Lake Zurich, Illinois, wrote to Ford’s customer relations department complaining about the “427 Ford Cobra” he had purchased (as a new car) from a Chicago “Ford Dealer”.  What disappointed Mr Shiffmayer was the performance which didn’t match the widely publicized numbers achieved by many testers and, perhaps more to the point, he found his “$8500 Super Ford could barely keep up with” various $5000 Chevrolets.  For a Ford driver, few things could be more depressing.  Upon investigation, he discovered that despite “‘427’ signs all over the engine and the front fenders”, his car was not “a ‘427’ as advertised and labelled but a ‘428’”.  Both V8s were around seven litres but were in many ways not comparable.

Mr Shiffmayer's letter to Ford, 23 June 1969.

Notionally, Mr Shiffmayer got more than he paid for (ie 428 v 427 is nominally an extra cubic inch) and had he bought a dozen (12) bread rolls from the bakery and been supplied a “baker’s dozen” (13) there’d have been no grounds for complaint because bread rolls are a “fungible” (ie functionally identical) so getting 13 is always better than getting 12 at the same price.  However, the 427 and 428 engines, although from the same FE (Ford-Edsel) family and externally similar (until closely inspected), were very different internally with the former notably more oversquare (ie big-bore) and fitted with cross-bolted main bearings; additionally, the 427s used in the Cobras featured “side-oiling”, a more extensive system of lubrication which afforded priority deliver of oil to the bottom-end, making the engine more robust and better suited to the extreme demands of competition.  By contrast, the a Cobra’s 428 was a modified version of the “Police Interceptor 428”, a high-output edition of a powerplant usually found in Ford’s full-sized line including luxury cars and station wagons where it’s smoothness and effortless low-speed torque was appreciated.  The “Police Interceptor” specification was literally that: the engine used by law enforcement in highway patrol vehicles and for street use, it offered a useful lift in performance but it was not suitable for racetracks.  Later, Ford would “mix & match” the 427 & 428 to create the 428 Cobra Jet, the 427’s heads, intake manifold and some other “bolt-on” bits & pieces creating a combination of power and torque close to ideal for ¼ mile (402 m) runs down drag strips although even then Ford cheated, under-rating the output so the cars would be placed in a different category.  That year, in drag racing, the 428 Cobra Jet Mustangs dominated their class which prompted the sanctioning body to change the rules, imposing their own nominal output ratings rather than accepting those of the manufacturer.  Still, even the Cobra Jet 428 remained suitable only for street and strip because ¼ mile runs were done in a straight line and, without the cross-bolting and enhanced lubrication, it wouldn’t have matched the 427’s ability to endure the extreme lateral forces encountered on high-speed circuits.

AC Shelby Cobra CSX3209 after 427 transplant.

That “427 Cobras” with 428 engines even existed was a product of circumstances rather than planning.  Although now million dollar collectables, it’s sometimes forgotten the 427 Cobra was a commercial failure and that meant production numbers never reached the levels required for homologation to be granted for competition in the category for which it was intended so as well as not selling as well as the small block predecessors on which the model’s reputation was built, nor did the seven litre version ever match its success on the track.  When it came time to build the second batch of 100 427 Cobras, the engine was in short supply because the intricacies in construction, coupled with the wider bore being at the limit the block would accommodate (at the foundry, with a slight shifting of the casting cores, a 427 block would have to be scrapped), it was expensive to produce and inconvenient for Ford to schedule in the small batches the sales supported.  The cheap, mass-produced 428 Police Interceptor was both readily available and half the cost so it was an attractive alternative for Shelby and that it bolted straight without needing any changes made it more desirable still; thus 428-powered “427s”.  For the final run of 48, Shelby procured from Ford genuine 427 side-oilers so the 100 428s were a minority of the big-blocks used and many have since been converted (“rectified” some prefer to say) with the substitution of a 427.  Interestingly, four of the 428s were fitted with automatic transmissions which actually made them more suitable for street use but nobody seems subsequently have done this as a modification.

Shelby American's reply to Mr Shiffmayer, 21 July 1969.

As it was, As it was, Mr Shiffmayer decided to persevere and kept Shelby Cobra CSX3209 until he died, in the 1970s replacing the 428 with a specially built “tunnel port” (a trick with the pushrods to optimize the fluid dynamics of the fuel-air flow) 427.  Whether he was impressed with the reply (Ford referred his letter to Shelby American) he received in response to his complaint isn’t known but it’s an interesting document for a number of reasons:

(1) “…during the five year existence of the Cobra, three engines were used, the 289, the 427 and the 428.”  Actually, the first 75 used the 260.

(2) “Only a very few of the 959 Cobras built contained the 427 engine.”  Actually of the 998 built (in fairness this wasn’t in 1969 the agreed “final count” but it’s hard to understand how 959 was calculated) more than 150 had the 427 and whether this constitutes “very few” is debatable but it’s also not relevant to the complaint.

(3) “The 427 is a nomenclature such as the GT-500 is for the Shelby car.  It does not relate to the cubic displacement of the engine.  We are sorry that this misunderstanding occurred.”  Actually, when the Cobra 427 was released, “427” was a direct reference to displacement.  The “GT500” label was never likely to cause a “misunderstanding” because (1) there was no Ford 500 cid engine and (2) the GT500 was always advertised as being equipped with the 428.

Indisputably what it says on the tin (aluminum): 1966 Shelby 427 S/C Cobra (CSX 3040).  In 2018, it sold at auction for US$2,947,500.

So, the letter from Shelby really wasn’t a great deal of help (it was dated the day after man set foot on the moon so perhaps the writer's attention was divided).  Were such a case now to go to court several matters would need to be considered:

Was it notorious (ie widely known; common knowledge) in the circles of potential purchasers of such a car that some were powered by 427s and some by 428s and the differences between the two were well documented?  According to some sources, it was only after the “428 Cobra matter” began to attract comment that sales literature was updated to reflect the changed specification while others maintain publication was concurrent with production.

Was the fact the car had only “427” badges an indication of which engine was fitted or just a “model name” al la the Shelby GT500 (which used a 428) & GT350 (which used either a 289 or 302 (and later a 351))?  That originally (in 1965) “427” was a reference to the 427 engine seem incontestable but the question would be whether this changed to a mere “model name” when the 428 was adopted.  It would seem the evidential onus of proof of that would rest with Shelby American.

When making the decision to purchase, did the buyer rely on representations from an authority (in this case a “Ford dealer”) which might reasonably have been expected to (1) possess and (2) communicate all relevant facts?  In that matter, the court would need to consider whether, in the circumstances, there is any substantive difference between a “Ford dealer” and a “Shelby franchised dealer”.  This would be decided by (1) any competing claims from the parties and (2) what documents were supplied prior to or at the point of purchase.

Is it relevant that in 1966-1967 when Ford offered both the 427 & 428 in the Galaxie, that car was sold as the “7 Litre” (they really did use the French spelling) irrespective of which seven litre (427 or 428) V8 was fitted?  Given that, should the Cobra have been thus labelled and was the continued use of the 427 badge a misrepresentation in 428-powered cars?

Was the dealer aware of the buyer’s background?  Mr Shiffmayer was (1) an engineer with a degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Wisconsin and (2) he was not only an owner of a 289 Shelby Cobra but also raced it with notable success.  If the dealer was aware of those facts that doesn’t absolve them of a responsibility fully to disclose all relevant information but a court could consider it a mitigating factor.  If the dealer was aware those facts, what would then have to be considered is whether it would have been reasonable for it to be assumed the buyer either knew of the mechanical details or could reasonably have been expected to know.

Evidence: Shelby American "Shelby Cobra 427" spec sheet listing the 428 as the engine, thereby suggesting "427" was a model name rather than a reference to a specific engine.  The significance of this document rests on whether it appeared before or after Shelby American began selling 428 powered Cobras.