Storms of Controversy. Palmiro Campagna
information out of context. Where matters become very technical, I have preferred to leave the explanations in the very words of the individuals who wrote them so long ago. I have included some of my own speculation in very specific areas, but I have left the reader to formulate personal conclusions on what happened to the Arrow. In the end, I address many of the myths and misconceptions that have developed over the years, trusting I have not created any of my own. I have attempted to document as much as possible in that regard.
Although it has been said that the Canadian aerospace industry suffered a major setback with the cancellation of the Arrow, I believe the country as a whole was affected psychologically. After cancellation, an ex-Avro employee commented that it seemed as if the spirit of the nation had died. Compare this to the U.S. experience: when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded in 1986, American prestige was affected; however, Americans regrouped and forged ahead in the face of this adversity. With the Arrow cancellation, Canada decided it simply could not handle these types of projects, seemingly preferring to become a branch plant of the United States. From that point in time, we seem to have developed the attitude “If it’s Canadian, there must be something wrong with it.” Witness the television commercial concerning high-tech developments and Canada’s 125th anniversary asking, “Can Canadians compete?” Would other countries even consider asking themselves such a question? It is time for our attitudes to change.
I am indebted to so many people, too numerous to mention, whose encouragement, advice, and insight are deeply appreciated. A few special individuals, though, must be highlighted. First and foremost, my wife, Jane Maxwell, for putting up with my long hours at the archives and the keyboard. Second, an absolute gentleman and brilliant engineer, Jim Floyd. Special thanks to Air Commodore Ray Foottit, the late Air Vice Marshal John Easton, and Dr. Omond Solandt for putting up with my questions; to Roberto Brun del Re, Vern La Rue, and Nancy McCallan for their early assessment of the manuscript; to Ken Lepper for providing some of the photos; and to Russ Carstensen.
Finally, I offer my thanks to the staff at Library and Archives Canada in Ottawa and the National Archives and Records Administration in Washington, D.C.; the National Research Council in Ottawa; the Department of National Defence, which provided photos and information; the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum in Abilene, Kansas; and the United States Air Force, which provided some photos. The documentation used is all declassified and available to the general public.
Mr. Speaker, with the leave of the House I should like to make a somewhat lengthy statement on the subject of one facet of the national defence of Canada…. The government had carefully examined and re-examined the probable need for the Arrow aircraft and Iroquois engine known as the CF-105…. The conclusion arrived at is that the development of the Arrow aircraft and the Iroquois engine should be terminated now.
— Prime Minister John G. Diefenbaker,
Black Friday, February 20, 19591
With the above words, more than 14,000 employees at Avro Aircraft and Orenda Engines were released in a single afternoon. In all, more than 25,000 people, including those working for various subcontractors, would be directly affected. There were rumours of suicide and the reality of a mass exodus of talented personnel from the country. Not only was a military project terminated, but the heart and soul of a nation were destroyed. Canada’s aircraft industry would never embark on such an ambitious project again. Then, incredibly, one final blow was delivered. Five magnificent aircraft — and a sixth ready for taxi trials — were hacked and chopped and blowtorched to scrap metal, along with 31 others in various stages of assembly. Engines, drawings, production line tooling, and the like were all ordered destroyed. Government records on the issue would remain classified for more than 30 years. The question is why.
Since the cancellation, several books and articles have appeared, each trying to explain some facet of the story. Kay Shaw, a former Avro employee, wrote There Never Was an Arrow, James Dow gave us The Arrow, and the Arrowheads provided the best picture and technical book, entitled, simply, Arrow. At least one stage play was produced, The Legend of the Avro Arrow, by Clinton Bomphray, and two books of fiction with the Arrow as the central theme have appeared. Not to be left out, several historians have included references to the Arrow story in various books on military history or on Canada’s aviation heritage.
What exactly was the Arrow? Amazingly, many Canadians have never heard of it, despite the books and recently renewed interest by the news media. Was it truly a world-beater as some have maintained, or was it a mass of technical junk? Officially, Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and his colleagues had said that with production behind schedule, the aircraft would be ready at a time when the principal enemy threat would come from the intercontinental ballistic missile, not the manned bomber; therefore, the aircraft would be obsolete. It was also said the range of the aircraft was limited, and its cost was alluded to as high, although this was never put forward as the official reason for termination.
Were the costs of the program beyond reach? If the aircraft was so good, why were other countries, namely the United States and Great Britain, not interested? Why did the government try to obliterate all traces of the aircraft after the project was cancelled? Why were any remaining government records locked away if the project was a disaster? Why have so many denied the truth? Or have they?
The 1950s were years of cold war uncertainty and post–Second World War prosperity. In the United States, Richard M. Nixon had become President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s vice-president. Nixon had already made a name for himself prosecuting suspected Communists, while Senator Joseph McCarthy was stirring anti-Communist sentiments throughout the country. In charge of foreign policy was John Foster Dulles, secretary of state and hard-line anti-Communist, a sharp contrast to the more conciliatory President Eisenhower. In charge of the spy network was the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), headed by Allen Dulles, brother to John.2
It was a period of espionage and intrigue. For example, revelations in the 1980s showed that, in the 1950s, the CIA was conducting covert hallucinogenic experiments on Canadians in Quebec, seemingly unbeknownst to the Canadian government. Meanwhile, both the CIA and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) were involved in the hunt for Soviet agents, at least one of whom was actively involved in trying to obtain information on the classified supersonic jet interceptor being built by Avro Canada. Would these people and events play a role in the termination?3
During the Second World War, Britain saw the need to have its Lancaster bomber production augmented by companies in Canada. The National Steel Car plant in Malton, Ontario, was chosen since it was already building aircraft parts for the war effort. In November 1942, this company became a Crown corporation and was renamed Victory Aircraft Limited.
News of superior Lancasters being built by Victory reached Britain. In 1943, Sir Roy Dobson, managing director of A.V. Roe, Manchester, decided to pay a visit, along with Sir Frank Spriggs, managing director of Hawker Siddeley. They were met by a young Canadian, Fred T. Smye, director of aircraft production at Victory, and his superior, Ralph P. Bell, director general, and were escorted on a tour of the existing aircraft companies in Ontario. Scott Young, in his 10-year history of the Canadian A.V. Roe company, recorded the following: “A few days later as the tour of Canadian plants progressed, Fred Smye heard the first hint in conversation that Sir Roy thought Canadians should have their own self-sufficient aircraft industry. From that moment on, Fred Smye never let go of the idea that it could be done.”4
Two years later, Sir Roy reached an agreement with the Honourable Clarence Decatur Howe, an American engineer who had become minister of munitions and supply under the Liberal government of Prime Minister Louis St. Laurent. It was decided that Victory Aircraft would be taken over by Hawker Siddeley on a rental purchase plan, providing the management at Hawker Siddeley agreed. Fred Smye, who had moved on to become assistant general manager of Federal Aircraft, resigned in order to become the first employee of the new company. Unfortunately, before Hawker Siddeley could sign the agreement, the war in Europe ended and all contracts for more aircraft were cancelled. Weeks passed, and Fred Smye finally travelled to England