Key Points and Summary – In 1966, an SR-71 Blackbird broke apart at 79,000 feet after a right-engine inlet unstart triggered uncontrollable forces.
-Test pilot Bill Weaver blacked out as the airframe failed but survived because his pressure suit protected him and the jet’s automatic parachute sequence deployed, carrying him safely into New Mexico. Flight test specialist Jim Zwayer was killed.
-Hours later, Weaver shocked Edwards AFB with a collect call.
-The investigation found performance optimizations reduced stability and exposed limits in inlet control and augmentation systems—insights that reshaped Blackbird procedures and echo through today’s high-speed flight safety practices and pilot training across aerospace programs.
The Day an SR-71 Blew Apart—and Its Pilot Lived
One of the most miraculous events in the history of American aviation occurred in January 1966 when a test pilot was flying the SR-71 Blackbird. The plane disintegrated at 79,000 feet, and the Lockheed test pilot, Bill Weaver, survived the incident.
According to a video posted in 2022 to the Facebook page of the Smithsonian Channel’s Aviation Nation channel, from its show Planes That Changed the World, the fateful flight took off from Edwards Air Force Base. Once the plane disappeared from tracking radar, it was assumed that both Weaver and his copilot, flight test specialist Jim Zwayer, were dead.
However, Weaver “had been free-falling from the very edge of space.” His parachute opened, and he ultimately landed safely in New Mexico, 800 miles from base. Unfortunately, Zwayer had died instantly when the plane fell apart.
According to a subsequent investigation, as reported by the Smithsonian, “optimizing the plane’s performance had made it less stable,” which led to a loss of control, putting the airframe under “catastrophic strain.”
The base, which had assumed both pilots were dead, found out that Weaver had survived when they received a phone call, asking if they wanted to “take a collect call from a Mr. Bill Weaver.”
Weaver’s Story
On ChuckYeager.org, a fansite dedicated to the test pilot who was the first to exceed the speed of sound, there is an article attributed to Weaver, in which he recounts the story of that 1966 flight.
“Among professional aviators, there’s a well-worn saying: Flying is simply hours of boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror,” Weaver writes, before noting that he was rarely bored during his 30 years working for Lockheed.
But that particular flight in 1966 was more eventful than most.
YF-12A. A similar plane to the A-12 Oxcart and SR-71. Credit: NSJ.
SR-71 Blackbird Spy Plane Back in 2022. Image Credit: National Security Journal/Harry J. Kazianis.
The plane took off from Edwards, finished the first leg, refueled from a KC-135 tanker, and then accelerated to Mach 3.2 cruise speed and reached 78,000 feet.
Just a few minutes later, however, “the right engine inlet’s automatic control system malfunctioned, requiring a switch to manual control,” he wrote. What happened was a phenomenon known as “inlet unstart,” which he described as “disturbances inside the inlet [which] could result in the shock wave being expelled forward.”
Unstarts sometimes happened at the time, but, as Weaver wrote, “a properly functioning system would recapture the shock wave and restore normal operation.” However, that’s not what happened that day, as an unstart occurred in the plane’s right engine, and attempts to move the ship leftward were unsuccessful.
Weaver attempted to warn his copilot, but he wrote, “g-forces built up so rapidly that my words came out garbled and unintelligible, as confirmed later by the cockpit voice recorder.”
Unfortunately, it was too late to save the aircraft.
“The cumulative effects of system malfunctions, reduced longitudinal stability, increased angle-of-attack in the turn, supersonic speed, high altitude, and other factors imposed forces on the airframe that exceeded flight control authority and the Stability Augmentation System’s ability to restore control,” he wrote.
He learned later that only two or three seconds passed between the start of the event and “catastrophic departure from controlled flight.” But as the aircraft disintegrated, the pilot “blacked out,” he said.
The Journey Down
“My next recollection was a hazy thought that I was having a bad dream. Maybe I’ll wake up and get out of this mess,” the pilot wrote. “Gradually regaining consciousness, I realized this was no dream; it had really happened. That also was disturbing, because I could not have survived what had just happened. Therefore, I must be dead.”
Once he came to, Weaver realized, beyond everything else, that the face plate on his pressure suit had frozen over. The pressurization from the suit not only caused the freezing over, but also prevented him from burning.
Weaver also realized he was falling slowly, because “the SR-71’s parachute system was designed to automatically deploy a small-diameter stabilizing chute shortly after ejection and seat separation.” However, this was separate from the main chute, which was designed to deploy automatically at 15,000 feet.
While making his way to the ground, Weaver could see the wreckage of the jet on the ground. And at that point, Weaver wasn’t even sure which state he was landing in. And as he got closer to the ground, Weaver spotted an animal, possibly an antelope, and nearly landed on it.
“My first-ever parachute landing was pretty smooth,” he wrote. “I landed on fairly soft ground, managing to avoid rocks, cacti, and antelopes. My chute was still billowing in the wind, though. I struggled to collapse it with one hand, holding the still-frozen face plate up with the other.”
But upon landing, he was greeted by a man in a cowboy hat, who turned out to be the owner of a nearby cattle ranch. The rancher had already contacted the New Mexico Highway Patrol, the Air Force, and a hospital.
“That the suit could withstand forces sufficient to disintegrate an airplane and shred heavy nylon seat belts, yet leave me with only a few bruises and minor whiplash was impressive. I truly appreciated having my own little escape capsule.”
While his copilot, Jim Zwayer, did not survive the disintegration, he ejected from the plane, and his body landed miles from where Weaver did.
Once he reached the hospital by helicopter, Weaver called the base to inform them that he had survived.
Weaver was back in the air, in another SR-71, just two weeks later.
The Last Flight
Bill Weaver passed away in 2021. He lived to be 93 years old and lived for another 55 years after his plane disintegrated in 1966.
Weaver’s published obituary in the San Diego Union-Tribune does not mention the 1966 flight specifically. Still, it does talk a great deal about his life as a pilot and his work for Lockheed, including that he “joined the Skunk Works as an engineering test pilot and was introduced to the Blackbird family, flying the A-12, YF-12 and SR-71.”
He graduated from the Naval Academy in 1951, was commissioned in the Air Force, and during his deployment in Korea, he flew 89 missions in the F-89 Scorpion and F-86 Sabre. He went on to join Lockheed in 1956 and worked there for 30 years.
According to an Aviation Geek Club remembrance of Weaver, he continued to fly into his 80s.
About the Author: Stephen Silver
Stephen Silver is an award-winning journalist, essayist, and film critic, and contributor to the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, Broad Street Review, and Splice Today. The co-founder of the Philadelphia Film Critics Circle, Stephen lives in suburban Philadelphia with his wife and two sons. For over a decade, Stephen has authored thousands of articles that focus on politics, national security, technology, and the economy. Follow him on X (formerly Twitter) at @StephenSilver, and subscribe to his Substack newsletter.
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