Branson: Behind the Mask (25 page)

Branson’s genius was his convincing performance. The story had gained something in the telling, as the idea for Virgin Atlantic was offered out of the blue to Branson by Randolph Fields, an American lawyer. Branson snapped up the idea, so long as Fields did much of the preparatory work, including organising the lease and finance for a second-hand Boeing 707 – not a 747. As an equal partner, Branson added important tweaks and organised a spectacular launch, including a vicious campaign against BA. His second offensive was against Fields, who, after being squeezed to accept a minority shareholding, accused Branson of double-crossing him to get total ownership of the airline. Branson repeatedly delayed signing a partnership agreement with Fields, who complained that Branson’s aggressive negotiation tactics were
overwhelming. Branson denied Fields’s complaint, his manner simply disarming all but the most resilient complainants. In the aftermath, others accused him of being ‘a dream thief’.

Performing as the genial English toff while promoting Virgin in America was a sturdy shield. Sceptics were appeased by Branson’s self-deprecation, mumbled politeness, diligence and unostentatious clothing. If all else failed, he deflected his vulnerability by hosting meetings on his houseboat moored in central London. As a result, nothing critical was published in America, other than equating Virgin Galactic with a billionaire’s
Boy’s
Own
folly. Meaningful challenges were brushed aside. And one occurred as Branson stood with Governor Richardson in Las Cruces.

It stemmed from a report published in
Geophysical
Research
Letters
describing the environmental damage caused by Virgin Galactic. For years Branson had asserted that space travel was ‘very environmentally friendly. The carbon cost of us putting someone into space will be about 30 per cent less than flying to London and back on a commercial plane.’ He added, ‘By launching in air, you save a lot of carbon from the ground blastoff.’ Martin Ross of the Aerospace Corporation described the opposite. Virgin Galactic’s fuel, he wrote, caused more damage than conventional rockets. The rubber particles that flew out of the motor during the flight would remain in the atmosphere for ten years and cause the temperature of the Earth’s surface to increase. By contrast, conventional rockets, burning hydrogen and oxygen, shed only debris on take-off, which fell to the Earth. Branson refused to admit the peril of bits of burnt rubber floating in the air. To dampen the dispute, Will Whitehorn described Virgin’s fuel as ‘a form of recycled nylon’ with ‘less impact on the atmosphere over ten years than one and a half shuttle launches’.

Whitehorn’s skill was to suffocate any comments about damage and delays by orchestrating a stream of good news from Los Angeles. Virgin, his publicity team announced, would be
opening ‘up to 25 hotels within seven years’ in America’s gateway cities; Robert Pattinson would be portraying Branson in a Hollywood biopic; Branson was producing his own Hollywood film about Christopher Columbus; and Virgin would beat James Cameron in a record-breaking submarine dive to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

Virgin Oceanic was an idea Branson inherited after the mysterious death of Steve Fossett, a rival ballooner. Fossett had planned to dive in a special craft into the Mariana Trench, seven miles (or 37,000 feet) below the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Branson presented the expedition as a service to mankind: ‘A lot of scientists approached us saying they desperately needed a research vehicle that can go to the bottom of the ocean. At the moment only two submarines in the world can go to 18,000 feet. And that sounded like too big a challenge to resist.’

In fact, the approach to Branson came from Chris Welsh, who was based in California and had been developing Fossett’s submarine. After Fossett’s death, Welsh was forced to search for a new sponsor and telephoned Branson: ‘I’m building Steve’s sub and wondered if you’d be interested in taking over?’ Welsh needed money and hoped that Virgin would encourage the Scripps Institution of Oceanography and Google to co-sponsor the $17 million venture. Branson agreed to co-finance it. The eighteen-foot craft was designed to carry one person for twenty-four hours along the bottom of the trench for a maximum of fifteen miles. Branson was told by Welsh that the construction of the craft’s dome could not be completed for at least eighteen months and, once installed, the submarine would require months of tests to prove it could withstand pressures of 16,000 lbs per square inch. Nevertheless, posing with Welsh for photographers beside Virgin Oceanic at a press conference on 4 April 2011 at Newport Beach, Branson firmly predicted that his submarine would complete five dives along the Trench the following
year and beat James Cameron’s craft. Built by Triton Submarines of Vero Beach Florida, Cameron’s submarine was built for two people to cruise along the seabed for a hundred hours. ‘If I were to guarantee anything,’ replied Cameron, ‘I’d say we’ll be the only ones to the bottom. I don’t think Virgin Oceanic has a chance.’ The certainty of defeat did not daunt Branson. All publicity was invaluable and six days later he posed for more.

On the morning of 11 April 2011, even Branson’s critics were struck by a remarkable photograph. Against the backdrop of San Francisco’s Golden Gate bridge, a Virgin America Airbus was flying alongside WhiteKnightTwo with VSS
Enterprise
strapped beneath. The beautiful image of invincible Virgin – in both business and exploration – zoomed around the globe. At midday, both aircraft were parked on the tarmac outside Terminal Two at San Francisco airport. Six hundred guests, led by Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, were celebrating the opening of the refurbished building, which would be used by Virgin America. Among those mingling with the local celebrities were Virgin Galactic’s pilots – and Buzz Aldrin, the second person to walk on the moon. Even in Branson’s publicity lexicon, this was a moment to shine, as San Francisco’s political establishment drank cocktails while surrounded by photographs showing Branson posing with Virgin Oceanic.

Relishing the spotlight, the maverick tycoon took the microphone. By the end of the following year, he announced, Virgin Oceanic would win the race to navigate the depths of the ocean, and Virgin Galactic would be flying in space. At that very moment, he continued, a giant hangar was being constructed in New Mexico for Virgin Galactic and, for the first time, SpaceShipTwo was about to be dropped from the mother ship at 51,500 feet and return to Mojave. The glide would be managed by releasing the ‘feathers’ on the twin tail section to smooth the re-entry into the atmosphere. Virgin, he said, was trailblazing in
space and as an airline. But just as important, Virgin was a leading campaigner for the environment. He was proud that together with Governor Schwarzenegger, he had stipulated that Terminal Two should be rebuilt to the highest environmental standards. The crowd applauded. The bearded buccaneer had branded Virgin as an environmentally successful business encompassing an Airbus, a spaceship and a submarine. And Virgin also cared for the poor. Virgin Unite and Galactic Unite, he said, would encourage underprivileged Californian children, helped by Virgin America pilots, to pursue careers in space exploration and aviation. ‘I hope eighteen months from now, we’ll be sitting in our spaceship and heading off into space.’ Cheers and clapping punctuated each statement.

Not mentioned by Branson was a serious mishap during an unpowered flight by SpaceShipTwo in May. The rocket, reported
Space
Safety
magazine, had stalled and, according to people watching from the ground, ‘dropped like a rock and went straight down’ until the crew regained control. ‘The tail stall was a nail-biter,’ said an eyewitnesses. Although George Whitesides, Virgin Galactic’s chief executive, dismissed the scare as consistent with any new development, particularly in rocket science, professional designers repeated their doubts about Burt Rutan. Why, they wondered, had he not discovered the error earlier during computer tests?

Four months later, in September 2011, just before flying to New Mexico to celebrate the formal opening of the spaceport, Branson appeared on Piers Morgan’s CNN TV show to declare victory in the space race. Virgin’s wish to be the leader in space travel was helped by the destruction in flight of Blue Origin, a rocket funded by Jeff Bezos, the Amazon billionaire. With Bezos’s plan for manned flight in 2012 delayed, the spotlight could be fixed on Virgin Galactic’s countdown. Rick Homans, the state secretary for economic development, exuded
confidence. ‘In 2012, we will have our first commercial launches from Spaceport America,’ said Homans, reading from Branson’s script. ‘We are ready to go operational in 2012.’ Branson repeated his message to Piers Morgan. Virgin Galactic’s first passengers, he said, would soon be passing through the Space Operations Center, a building designed by Norman Foster. ‘The rocket tests are going extremely well,’ Branson told Morgan, ‘and so I think that we’re now on track for a launch within twelve months of today.’ He did not mention the reports from New Mexico claiming that the building was two years behind schedule, and the news from Mojave about further setbacks to the rocket motor’s development. He was also told that even after SpaceShipTwo was successfully launched into space, the Federal Aviation Administration would require test flights before awarding a licence. ‘We are now very close to making the dream of suborbital space a reality for thousands of people at a cost and level of safety unimaginable even in the recent past,’ Branson told the TV audience. ‘Virgin Galactic has shown in the past few years how private-sector investment and innovation can lead to a rapid transformation of stagnant technologies.’ Branson was taken at his word, even though he had recently disclosed his worship of fantasy: ‘Peter Pan is my favourite character, and I don’t really want to grow up. I’m just ridiculously lucky and just love to live my dreams.’

From Morgan’s studio, Branson headed to New Mexico. ‘Are you ready, Bill?’ he asked Bill Richardson as they flew towards the spaceport in Branson’s jet.

‘What for?’ asked Richardson.

‘We’re all parachuting down to the spaceport.’

‘Oh no,’ said Richardson, white-faced.

‘Absolutely,’ insisted Branson.

Once the joke was over, Richardson appreciated why he had entrusted over $200 million to Branson’s dream. The Briton was
unique. There was creativity and spontaneity but at the same time hardcore discipline during their commercial negotiations. ‘He goes to the edge but then comes back,’ agreed Homans. However, Richardson would not negotiate the final contract. His term as governor had expired and he had been replaced by Susana Martinez, a Republican committed to cutting costs, especially at the spaceport.

Branson’s Falcon was the first jet to land on the new runway. He emerged from his plane with his signature grin. In the sunshine, the party mood encouraged Branson to speak expansively. SpaceShipTwo, he told everyone, had completed a dozen test flights after being dropped mid-air from WhiteKnightTwo. There were cheers. No one appeared to understand that the real hurdle was not gliding down to Mojave but firing the rocket motor to go up into space.

Branson’s publicists had arranged a stunt to entertain the 800 guests, some of whom owned tickets for the eventual ride, and to provide the media with a photograph: Branson would be abseiling down the side of Norman Foster’s massive glass windows while swigging a bottle of champagne. The master of media spectaculars completed the drop without mishap, unlike three years earlier, when a similar bungee jump in Las Vegas had ended with Branson hanging injured in mid-air. After being guided through the concrete shells where the pre-flight facilities, the control room and the lounges would be built, the spectators continued to cheer Branson’s promises. Flights, he confirmed, would start from Las Cruces the following year.

Governor Martinez beamed. ‘We’ll soon be handing over Spaceport America to you, Richard,’ she said, concealing her misgivings. Richardson’s original plan, she lamented privately, had been derailed. The expected 140,000 tourists had not materialised and the spaceport’s $6 million annual costs had not been covered by charging mourners $1,500 to launch a canister
of cremated remains into space. To limit the taxpayers’ exposure to a white elephant, Martinez had told Christine Anderson, the new executive director of the spaceport, to halve spending and privatise it.

An unforeseen problem had arisen: other states had entered the spaceport business. Virginia and Texas were offering better terms for space tourists than New Mexico, and Florida was planning to open the Kennedy Space Center for private hire. Richardson’s financial forecasts were looking dubious. Even Branson’s annual $1.63 million rent was not payable until construction was completed. But Branson’s euphoric speech glided over those doubts. In 2012, he said, two flights would taking off every day from the spaceport. One week later, David Mackay, Virgin Galactic’s chief pilot, revealed that passenger flights would not start until 2013. And, he added, there would be one flight every week, not two per day. Branson’s mistake was ignored.

The sliding deadline was smothered by Virgin’s publicists. Stephen Attenborough, Virgin Galactic’s commercial director, was presented to journalists in early 2012 to conjure confidently a vision of a two-and-a-half-hour suborbital, environmentally friendly transcontinental flight from Las Cruces or Abu Dhabi on VSS
Enterprise.
Videos of SpaceShipTwo in flight gave credibility to Attenborough’s pronouncement of an imminent dash to Virgin’s orbital space hotel. ‘We are right at the edge of that final part of the test-flight process,’ he said. Attenborough was, however, aware that the rocket motor had not yet been perfected and that Virgin’s existing spaceship could only glide for four minutes in space. The company would need to spend billions of dollars on an entirely new rocket to fly between continents and to an ‘orbital hotel’. Doubters among his audience were silenced by the latest roll call of Hollywood celebrities who had allegedly bought $200,000 tickets to fly: Tom Hanks, Brad Pitt, Demi Moore and, most recently, Ashton Kutcher.
The actor, said Branson, was Virgin Galactic’s 500th customer since 2004.