Airstream, Inc

 

Visionary, Genius, Businessman, Master Promoter, Pied-Piper

Who was Wally Byam? Suffice it to say that he was complex. He knew who he was, what he wanted and where he was going. He was a visionary who grasped the societal urge to journey and commune with like-minded people. He was a manufacturing genius who understood the emotional pull of the Airstream's design as much as its functionality. And he was a businessman who knew that success was defined not by short-term profits but by endurance.

Wally also was a master promoter — an audacious showman who waxed rhapsodic on radio and television, and posed for wild photographs. Charles Kiefer, who worked in Airstream's Way of Life department in the 1950s, said Wally "did not fear expressing his honest opinion whether it bruised someone's ego or not." Others said he inspired them to achieve their dreams. "He gave me the opportunity — the brashness — to imagine what could be done, and believe it or not, to see it happen," said Andy Charles, Airstream chairman in the 1960s. Wally's cousin Helen Schwamborn said he "had an uncanny way of giving confidence. When he said you could do it, you didn't question him, you did it." Charles Manchester, Airstream president from the 1970s, said Wally "was a dreamer and he dreamed big. But he also knew that ideas only have real value when effective action is taken to embody them." Wally in person was larger than life. While his suits were tailored in tasteful blues and tweeds, he liked to wear Wellington boots and plaid shirts with them. His choice of headgear was a blue beret, which he had spied in France. He wore the beret on his first Central American caravan, and it was quickly adopted by fellow caravanners as a means to identify each other in a crowd. The blue beret became a caravan essential. While Wally's fashion taste was offbeat casual, his office at Airstream was a "nightmare of disorder," recalled Stella Hall Byam, Wally's second wife.

The walls were covered with clippings of all kinds — religious and philosophical scraps; pictures of people, things, and even his burros. He slept one or two hours at a time, then worked until he took another nap. "He would often excuse himself, go to his trailer and nap for 30 minutes," his cousin Dale Schwamborn recalled. "He was always active, always moving fast. I don't think he ever did anything slow. I don't think `impatient' would be the word for it, but he didn't like to repeat things, so he said things very clearly so people understood him."