©Chuck Savadelis 1996
Mystic Sunnyvale
By INGRID MCCLEARY
Hot topics have a short life span, especially on the local level. A subject is volatile for a few months, with heated dialogues fanning the flames between opposing viewpoints, then the fire dies down and many times you don't hear of the final outcome. If the resolution held particular interest to me, I'd delve into it on my own; otherwise, the subject faded from present concern.
Topics to come and go recently include high-density housing, former Mayor Frances Rowe's ouster and subsequent struggle, and Fremont High School's Indian mascot. The current hot topic is Moffett Field.
For me, Moffett Field represents many things. Thirty years ago, I swam in the base's immense domed pool. I remember it as misty and filled with echoes and the odor of chlorine, giving the chamber an otherworldly feeling. Indeed, Hangar One sounds like a space way station in a sci-fi novel.
Twenty years ago, thinking about nuclear warfare, I considered it a likely target, especially coupled with Lockheed's presence. Ten years ago? Where my husband shod horses. Five? Where I watched Fourth of July fireworks. Now? Where I visit friends.
Moffett Field has always been there . . . like peripheral vision; I sense its presence but it's not my focal point. If you asked what its main purpose is now, I couldn't tell you. Apparently, I'm not alone because the city of Sunnyvale has installed a 24-hour telephone hotline solely on Moffett Field's future use (The Sun, Feb. 21).
I, for one, don't know where Moffett Field is going. But I know a little of where it's been. Perhaps, if we look at its beginnings, it might shed some light on its potential future.
Moffett Field was initially called the Sunnyvale Naval Air Station. Spurred by a three-year civic drive, reluctant investors coughed up $500,000 and acquired 1,000 acres of pasture land between Mountain View and Sunnyvale. In 1930, it was offered to the U.S. Navy. Ownership was transferred to the United States the following year. The price? One dollar. The purpose? A base for lighter-than-air aviation.
The Navy paid Mountain View and Sunnyvale back by providing 850,000 man-hours toward its construction. Base cost: $5 million.
America had only three dirigibles, each costing approximately $9 million. The U.S.S. Akron crashed in April 1933, killing all but three of the 76 men aboard. Aside from the tragedy of lost lives (including Rear Adm. William Moffett), the crash left few men skilled in lighter-than-air aviation. The second ship, U.S.S. Macon, crashed two years later.
Two out of three and the end of rigid airship aviation for Moffett Field. The Hindenburg explosion in 1937 sealed the fate for this type of aviation across the nation.
Moffett Field passed from the Navy to the U.S. Army and back to the Navy before World War II. There it remained until perestroika, the ripple effect passing through the years and through our government, the latest ripple resulting in a diminished military force--hence, base closures.
Now it's called Moffett Federal Airfield, and it's headed primarily by NASA. The biggest question: Now what? A civil aviation airport, a federally sponsored cargo receiver, a flea market, or a Sunnyvale version of the Egyptian Pyramids? Maybe a disaster relief center? (Moffett Field was the only major airfield that remained operational immediately after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.)
The next biggest questions: Who decides? And what factors will ultimately fuel its use?
I have a feeling, like the three-year drive to bring business into our community via Moffett Field in 1929, this is one topic that will jump the fire line and burn for months to come.
Ingrid McCleary is a Sunnyvale resident and a columnist for The Sun.
This article appeared in the Sunnyvale Sun, February 28, 1996.
©1996 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.