Skunk Works

I was not a golfer, but I adored Chinese food and when Kelly discovered we had a mutual passion, my wife and I began joining him and his new bride for weekly Chinese culinary outings at favorite restaurants. Kelly seemed to be genuinely happy with MaryEllen and eager to show her off. She even got Kelly to give up drinking scotch because she hated the smell on his breath; he began drinking vodka instead. Faye and I would be invited to accompany the newlyweds on the Lockheed jet on weekend trips to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado, or to aeronautical conventions in other picturesque places where he gave a speech and then introduced his very attractive new wife with obvious pride and affection. “MaryEllen loves Faye,” he confided to me, “and I think it’s about time that the right people in this business get to meet you too.”

But just around the time that Northrop approached me in 1972 on the new job, MaryEllen began getting sick, seriously sick. She was a diabetic and didn’t really take care of herself. Her diabetes became a monster unleashed, and she never was able to catch up with it. She developed kidney problems, then her eyesight began to fail. Kelly was heartsick, but outside of myself and Norm Nelson, no one else at work was aware of the extent of MaryEllen’s illness. When she learned of Faye’s sudden death in late 1980, she was devastated. By then she weighed about eighty pounds. She said to me, “Oh, Ben, Faye was so much stronger and healthier than I. What hope can there be for me?” She died a few weeks later. She was only thirty-eight years old.

Before she died she advised Kelly to marry her best friend, Nancy Horrigan—which he did, soon after MaryEllen’s funeral, and after again consulting with me about what people might think, which was probably just another way for him to discover what I thought. I told him, “Kelly, do it. You need a good woman in your life. MaryEllen had only your best interests at heart.”

I told Kelly about Northrop’s offer on a day when he was leaving early to go with MaryEllen to the hospital for tests that would ultimately reveal her need for a kidney transplant. When I discovered how unfortunate my timing was, I felt dreadful. I could tell he was worried and preoccupied, but I had no choice but to push ahead and blurt it out. “Kelly,” I said, “you’ve been like a father to me. I love it here. I love the work and the people and the uniqueness of this place. But this is a golden opportunity.”

I laid out Northrop’s offer, and he closed his eyes and solemnly shook his head. “Goddam it, Ben, I don’t believe a word that guy said to you. I’ll bet my ranch against Northrop starting its own Skunk Works. Companies give it lip service because we’ve been so successful running ours. The bottom line is that most managements don’t trust the idea of an independent operation, where they hardly know what in hell is going on and are kept in the dark because of security. Don’t kid yourself, a few among our own people resent the hell out of me and our independence. And even those in aerospace who respect our work know damned well that the fewer people working on a project, the less profit from big government contracts and cost overruns. And keeping things small cuts down on raises and promotions. Hell, in the main plant they give raises on the basis of the more people being supervised; I give raises to the guy who supervises least. That means he’s doing more and taking more responsibility. But most executives don’t think like that at all. Northrop’s senior guys are no different from all of the rest in this business: they’re all empire builders, because that’s how they’ve been trained and conditioned. Those guys are all experts at covering their asses by taking votes on what to do next. They’ll never sit still for a secret operation that cuts them out entirely. Control is the name of the game and if a Skunk Works really operates right, control is exactly what they won’t get.”

He smiled and rubbed his eyes. “Use your head. Ben, believe me, they just want you over there to pick your brains on getting that fighter prototype going right, then use you as the wedge to try to steal more of my best employees. But mark my words, you’ll be reporting to a dozen management types and they won’t let you out of their sight for one minute.”

He stood up from his desk and came around to my chair and looked down at me. “Ben, forget Northrop. This is where you belong. I don’t want to lose you. So let me put my cards on the table. Would you stay put if I matched Northrop’s offer?”

I was stunned. “But, Kelly, you already have a vice president. What about Rus Daniell?”