Brien Wygle was comfortable with risky environments, whether in the air as a test pilot for Boeing and later in life flying aerobatic biplanes or on the water as a hydroplane racer. But after hydroplane legend Bill Muncey ran over the right half of his hull at 200-plus miles an hour to get past him in a race on Lake Washington, Wygle decided the skies were safer.
Wygle’s death on September 15 at the age of 96 at The Bellettini retirement community in Bellevue, where he had moved in 2017, reminded me of the Muncey story he told me one day when we were visiting.
His career as a hydroplane driver had been for a brief two years in 1957 to 1958, although his races on the circuit, driving the Thriftway Too and Hawaii Kai III, included the major ones like the Gold Cup, Diamond Cup, and Sierra Cup.
But it was flying that Wygle loved, from the time the Calgary native was a pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II in Europe, India, and Burma.
He joined Boeing in 1951 in Wichita as a flight test pilot and stayed 39 years, retiring as vice president of Flight Operations in 1990.
So what prompts me to do my column as an obit on Wygle this week? The fact that his story, like those of many people of advanced age, living quietly in retirement communities or remaining cared for in their homes, stay tucked away in their minds or scrapbooks or photo albums until death allows the world to revisit their special moments.
Those like William H, Gates Sr., who died a day earlier, appropriately have their stories and contributions spread across their communities’ awareness right up to the day they die.
So back to Wygle. His love of flying continued into his 80s, retiring when his hearing loss required it at age 84.
And regarding the Muncey incident that made Wygle decide to stick to the challenges of the skies, he recalled he was leading Muncey and as they came out of the turn, he “heard the roar of Muncey’s boat overtaking me and suddenly there he was roaring over the side of my boat.”
“The damn guy didn’t care if he killed me or not as long as he got past me,” Wygle recalled. “I figured the next time might not be one I survived, so I packed it in.”
And regarding the Muncey incident that made Wygle decide to stick to the challenges of the skies, he recalled he was leading Muncey and as they came out of the turn, he “heard the roar of Muncey’s boat overtaking me and suddenly there he was roaring over the side of my boat.”
“The damn guy didn’t care if he killed me or not as long as he got past me,” Wygle recalled. “I figured the next time might not be one I survived, so I packed it in.”
Though less visible than those of the most prominent, his contributions were nonetheless meaningful and important to remember.
He sponsored minority engineering students at the University of Washington and worked to advance women and minority engineers. He volunteered to tutor adults seeking their GED.
More visibly, he was a founder of the Museum of Flight and on its board for several years.
So there you have the story of the contributions that made Brien Wygle special, even if tucked away to be recalled only at his death.
