Old airplanes never die ... but they may end up at a 'boneyard'

By Betty Stark

About 20 years ago on a Yugoslav Airlines flight from Chicago O’Hare to Belgrade, Yugoslavia, I chatted with a saleswoman who in my opinion had one of the most interesting jobs in the world.

A top-ranked member of the McDonnell Douglas aircraft sales team, she routinely negotiated the sale of wide-body commercial aircraft to private entities and governments around the world.

This flight was taking her to Belgrade for a final meeting with government officials who were ready to ink a mega-million dollar Yugoslav Airlines deal that had been years in the making: a sparkling new fleet of MD-11 aircraft for the government-owned carrier.

During the long flight and between champagne toasts to her inspiring success in a decidedly male-dominated environment, we talked about many things.

"How DO you sell a jumbo jet?" I asked.

"You take the prospects for a test drive, just as you would a car. Show them what it can do," she explained. "I’m lucky—-I can hold my own talking about the engineering and technology end of things too."

How many trips had she made to Yugoslavia before it was a done-deal? I prodded. Answer: This would be her fourteenth in just under two years.

What did Yugoslav Air (JAT) plan to do with their aging airplanes when the new MD-11s arrived? Answer: Those that weren’t revamped, sold or leased to other operators would probably end up parked in an arid desert outpost somewhere in Europe or North Africa, maybe even the U.S. desert southwest—-an aircraft "boneyard," she called it, a place aging aircraft go to be stored and tuned up from time to time. Or, parted out, like a giant chop shop.

No doubt my jubilant seatmate nailed her big sale, and back at McDonnell Douglas, production began on the new MD-11s. But delivery of the aircraft to Yugoslav airports never occurred.

Not long after our chance encounter, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia split apart and the Yugoslav wars broke out. In a country ripped by civil war that was compounded by UN economic sanctions and a U.S.-imposed embargo on air traffic from Yugoslavia, the national airline ceased operation. (The carrier is back in business as Jat Airways, the national airline of Serbia and does not fly to the U.S.).

Chances are good that many JAT aircraft, including the one I flew on, ended up in an aircraft boneyard. I had not thought about that intriguing and troubling airline industry phenomenon again until recently, when I tried to tally the burgeoning number of airplanes decommissioned or retired by domestic and international carriers, their leasing companies or creditors. I learned that the boneyard business is booming.

According to Ascend, a London-based aviation consultant and data provider, about 2,300 jets, or 11 percent of the worldwide fleet are parked, 1,176 grounded in 2008 alone. Some of the voluntary groundings were a result of outdated technology or fuel-guzzling traits — 727s, 737s and MD-80s that will probably never fly again. Others were forced to a final touchdown by banks and oil company creditors that lowered the boom on struggling airlines.

In the U.S., the Mojave Air and Space Port in the desert north of Los Angeles is a major depository for the winged rejects because dry desert air is easier on the planes’ metal frames and the hard-packed sand can support heavy loads. There’s still plenty of room at the facility, but at the rate carriers are cutting back fleets with no new buyers or lessees in sight, the "Lot Full" sign could soon begin flashing.

Several areas in Arizona and New Mexico also house these sprawling maintenance and storage complexes sometimes referred to as a "securistations." The Evergreen Air Center in the sun-baked Sonora desert northwest of Tucson can handle up to 400 parked aircraft on its 1,600 acres. Presently they are managing about 200 and expect many more to arrive in the next three to six months.

In past years, the majority of these second-tier aircraft would have been refurbished and sold to start-up airlines in Russia, parts of Asia, Central and South America and some African countries. Right now, only Middle East carriers are in growth mode, so most of the aircraft remain where they were parked the day they arrived.

Though the current airline resale picture is gloomy and leasing companies are wringing their collective hands, there are positive signs on the horizon. Air cargo companies like FedEx, said to be adding to their fleets, are potential buyers or lessees of remodeled commercial aircraft like the Boeing 757.

Even in this daunting economy, private buyers continue to seek out decommissioned jets and then have them superbly retro-fitted by specialty companies like RWR Designs of London, Dallas-based Aviation Concepts, and Wentworth & Affiliates, a Potomac, MD-based aircraft broker and consulting service.

Though many of these conversions are done for business use, leisure travelers also enjoy the benefits of reconfigured aircraft. Tour operators like Abercrombie & Kent, Smithsonian Journeys, R. Crusoe & Son, and National Geographic Expeditions offer sumptuous 88-passenger two-by-two leather seating in aircraft like the Boeing 757 on their extended around-the-world journeys.

In Michigan, the Nomads Travel Club has owned its own aircraft since its inception in 1965 when a group of travel enthusiasts purchased an Eastern Airlines DC-7B. The group now numbers nearly 8,000 members and still owns its own aircraft and a private terminal at Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport.

The club eventually purchased a Boeing 727-200, then recently reconfigured the "flying clubhouse" for 92 passengers and equipped the Super 27 engines with auxiliary fuel tanks that allow non-stop travel to destinations up to five-and-one-half hours away.

In perhaps the most inventive repurposing of a grounded aircraft, Swedish businessman and entrepreneur Oscar Dios in 2006 purchased a 1976 Boeing 747-200 that was languishing in a hangar at the Stockholm-Arlanda, Sweden airport and converted it into a 25-room "hostel."

The 3,800-square-foot former Pan Am jumbo jet began accepting guests early in 2009 in basic rooms that range from $40 a night for a shared four-bed dormitory to $170 for a private room with a double bed and a single bed. The bridal suite (formerly the cockpit area) costs $420 per night. Every room has a small flat-screen TV, wireless internet access and (what else?) an overhead luggage compartment.

Over the years, I have wondered what happened to the interesting woman I met on my flight to Belgrade. My guess is that she is still aligned with the airline industry in some capacity. I imagine her as a broker of mothballed aircraft, traveling the world in search of entrepreneurial risk-takers who are eager to take a flyer (pun intended) on a discarded, once regal sky ship — willing to rescue it from the boneyard and put it back at 35,000 feet where it belongs.

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