Branson: Behind the Mask Read Free Page B

corkscrew at three times the speed of sound towards space. Spectators monitoring the flight at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave desert gasped as Melvill rolled twenty-nine times before crossing the winning tape sixty-two miles above Earth. After three minutes of weightlessness, he began the glide back to California. All the steering and other functions were performed manually without computers and, because of the low speed, there was no need for any heat-deflecting re-entry technology. Rutan had achieved a remarkable success. The second flight was due within ten days. Branson made the telephone call.
    Branson’s audacity in business is to bid low in order to try to tilt the deal in his favour from the outset: firstly, because he wants a bargain; and secondly, because he has considerably less money than wealth-watchers assume. His sales patter is consistent: ‘We’re risking Virgin’s invaluable name, and you’re getting all the upside.’ In 2004, he balanced Rutan and Allen’s money and skills against his commitment of the Virgin brand. However, Branson added that if SpaceShipOne returned safely, he would make a serious financial investment to accelerate Rutan’s ambitions. In exchange for adding the Virgin Galactic brand name to SpaceShipOne, he offered $1 million to Scaled Composites, Rutan’s company. Both Rutan and Allen embraced Branson as a valued partner.
    With the deal agreed, on 4 October Branson was standing in front of dozens of cameras in the Mojave desert to watch the launch of Virgin Galactic’s SpaceShipOne. He had arrived amid media reports that the intention was for the spacecraft to carry the first tourists into space in 2007. Branson’s declaration to thecameras generated euphoria among enthusiasts. Until then, the only journey for tourists to the International Space Station 250 miles above the Earth cost over $20 million aboard a Russian Soyuz rocket. ‘We’ll be the first in space,’ Branson told the crowd.
    Standing next to him was Burt Rutan, a remarkable aerospace designer recognised internationally for his achievements. As an adventurer he had much in common with Branson. Dressed in a leather jacket, the sixty-year-old saw himself as a modern version of the Wright brothers. Politically, he and Branson were not soulmates. Rutan was a fierce conservative who derided global warming, opposed liberal causes and loathed political correctness. He did, however, share with Branson a contempt for bureaucratic paper-pushers, who in the context of this operation were the US government’s regulators. Success, he hoped, would silence the naysayers. ‘We proved it can be done by a small company operating with limited resources and a few dozen dedicated employees,’ he pronounced proudly to over fifty journalists. Branson applauded that sentiment and stared like a thrilled schoolboy as WhiteKnight roared down the desert runway and took off, with SpaceShipOne glistening underneath.
    As before, SpaceShipOne was dropped from the aircraft at 50,000 feet and, after firing its rocket, soared seconds later past the winning post 69.7 miles above Earth. After two minutes in space, the craft tilted and glided back towards the Mojave. Rutan and Virgin Galactic had won the prize. Media attention was Branson’s oxygen, but on this occasion his publicists did not need to contrive any excitement. A genuine frenzy swept through the crowds. They loved Branson’s promise of space tourism for everyone within three years. Although Virgin’s ‘space travel’ was a trip that lasted less than five minutes outside the Earth’s atmosphere – ‘a high-altitude bungee jump’, the critics carped – the joyful crowd embraced the company’s spectacular achievement. Their cheers were interrupted by a call from the president.Squeezing into an office with Rutan and Paul Allen, Branson listened to George W. Bush’s congratulations over a telephone loudspeaker.
    The success of that day in 2004 more than satisfied