For a long time Jan Nieuwenburg and Ab Steenbergen were members of the 'guild' of technical representatives for Fokker. The function had quite its change of titles: Service Engineer, Technical Representative, Area Representative. But the mission was always the same: Make sure that every proud owner of a new Fokker plane - no matter where in the world - learns how to handle the plane, without bothering the plant too much. And - probably as important - maintain such a relationship with the customer that he remains satisfied with his choice of a Fokker-product. Nieuwenburg learned the trade from Steenbergen, who was a Fokker-man of the earliest hour in post-war time. They experienced quite a few adventures in foreign lands, until about ten years ago the Kok-cabinet put an end to plane construction at the Ringvaart ( canal just outside Amsterdam Airport - transl. ) Together they look back at a job that was nowhere near 'nine-to-five'.

ISLO

Steenbergen got aquainted with aeronautics at the Amersfoortse Luchtvaart Club (Amersfoort - a Dutch city - Aeronautical Club), where he learned how to handle balsawood and cellulosa laquer (dope). During the war - at his hiding place - he was enrolled in the at the time well-known correspondence course of the Instituut voor Schriftelijk Luchtvaart Onderwijs (Institute for Aeronautical Training by Correspondence - Dutch abbreviation - ISLO). He dreamt of a job in the air as flight engineer. In 1946 he got a job with KLM and after a technical training was sent to the (Dutch East) Indies ( with the KNILM ( the Indies branch of KLM - transl.). There he graduated in 1949 as flight engineer, but was rejected because of medical requirements. After return from the tropics he transferred to Fokker, where in 1957 he landed with the service department.

Nautical College

Nieuwenburg was almost born at Schiphol in the little village of Rijk, where his dad was the school-principal. Becoming a Flight Engineer was Nieuwenburg's dream as well, but when he graduated from the Nautical College it was just at a time that KLM did not need anybody. He was not the type of person to sit and wait and opted for the Merchant Marine. He kept that up for seven years and thanks to that he kept a fascination with foreign people and cultures. That really paid dividend when he was with Fokker later on.

Unseasonable times

Halfway through the Fifties, both Nieuwenburg and Steenbergen worked abroad as Fokker's technical representatives. Normally that meant an uninterupted period of six months - but sometimes it could be a year - that they worked at the new customer's location as technical source of information. Steenbergen: ‘Our task was to make sure that the plane was grounded as little as possible. That meant a lot of trouble-shooting, and above all to transfer that art to the customer. And all that in a time period of six months. On top of that - for as long as the local technical personel were not qualified yet - one had the responsibility for daily inspections and planning of maintenance. But included in that were the issuing of instructions about operational matters, as the setting up of a loadsheet.' So that was a job of a dream. At least when regularity and family-life aren't the first priorities. Because waiting at unseasonable times on a cold platform for the last flight of the day was no exception. And when the pilots had given their technical story they would go home, or at least to a comfortable hotel. The ‘salesrep’ however, then could - be it with or without his people's assistance - get to the plane, as by the next morning the plane had to be safe and on time in service again. And when then finally one could go to the hotel, then the administration and the writing of the so-called fieldservice reports were waiting there. Because at Schiphol ( Fokker's home base - transl. ) they really would like to know exactly with what kind of a customer they were dealing for the case warranty claims were presented. In the end, the techrep was also technical instructor in practical matters for the local personel. Nieuwenburg: 'Especially in the Third World did we have the problem, that once the people had their papers, they would go out and buy a white shirt and a tie, and then would disappear to an office. Because with the prestige of such an education you were crazy if you would don coveralls........'

Friendship

In the mid-fifties Fokker was synonymous with the F27 Friendship. It was a Dakota with a nosewheel, pressurised cabin and turbine engines. That were innovations with which the customer had trouble getting used to. Nieuwenburg: ‘If I think of the F27 then I see the cozy cabin with those big windows and that magnificent view, no matter where you are sitting.' Steenbergen: ‘For me it is a technically well-thought out, beautiful design.' In reality quite a few typical characteristics or parts of the Friendship proved to be the subject of one or more stories. Below follows an anthology. The judgement of the tallness of the stories is left to the critical reader.

Sound

Rolls Royce ever did advertise their cars with the slogan: 'The only thing one hears at 100 mph is the ticking of the dashboard clock.' The Friendship too was provided with Rolls Royce engines, but when they run the noise level nuisance of ticking clocks in the wide vicinity remains limited. Opinions about the typical Friendship sound are divided. Members of the F27 Friendship Association (FFA) speak of ‘a symphony for two gearboxes’. For others it goes to the bone like a circular saw. Nieuwenburg: ‘If I hear that sound, I think, It can only be three things, a Viscount (English contemporary of the Friendship with four comparable engines - ed.) or two Friendships. I feel a bit of melancholy, something in the style of: Dammit, now was that necessary? Did they really have to terminate those nice things?' Steenbergen: ‘Marvellous to hear it, I still look up'.

Pressurised Cabin

Nieuwenburg was stationed at a company in Uruguay. Until they transferred to Friendships did they fly with Dakotas without pressurised cabins and found their way at mountain-peak level through the valleys of the Andes. Something in the style of, 'now at the third side valley you take a left.' Then came the Friendship and I noticed that especially the older colonels who were flying there were uncomfortable with the pressurised cabin. If they got the chance, they would disengage it. And they could do that, as they remained flying the same way: low and VFR. Only now they flew at a lot higher speed because of the turboprop. Because of that one litterally did miss the turn and flew into a mountain-side.'

Tail Wheel (kilograms or pounds)

The F27 prototypes were still equipped with a rudimentary tail wheel. Because of that low between the wheels hanging fuselage it did happen, that during a little bit too enthousiasically performed take-off or landing, the tail would make contact with the runway. On later versions it had disappeared. Nieuwenburg did wish for it when with a Spanish customer on the Balearic Islands he was witness of the boarding of the passengers. 'The right engine was running already. A heavy crate still had to be loaded. Then, at the last moment a heavy passenger boarded at the rear, and the next thing was that I saw the plane sink slowly on its tail. My first reaction was, 'That is not possible!'. Closer investigation showed, that when loading they counted in kilograms instead of English pounds (Lbs). That, at the same time solved another riddle, namely complaints from pilots that the climb performance of the new Friendships was so disappointing.

Upholstery

A many options were possible where it concerned layout and upholstery of the F27. A customer in the Sudan opted for one hundred procent nylon carpeting, together with spiffy looking gold-coloured metal attachments which fastened the head cloths to the headrests of the seats. On the occasion of the opening of a new flight to Khartoum the entire cabin was filled with invited people, all men dressed in white attire. Steenbergen: ‘A complete dinner was being served on board. From the pantry a rather stout flight attendant shuffled with a serving tray filled with cups of tomato soup into the cabin. The static electricity which she accumulated, while shuffeling, discharged itself halfway the cabin, when a spark jumped from her hand to one of those metal attachments on the headrests. She was so startled, that in a reflex she jolted the serving tray forcefully forward. Then it was my fault, as I represented the factory which was responsible for this technical failure. Later on often reference was made to this happening as 'the soup dress incident'. (In Dutch a 'soup dress' is one that does not fit very well - transl.)