Slate proposed fabricating the hull of 0.011-inch thick duralumin, which would be light enough to be viable, but strong enough and fireproof in order to use the more-readily-available hydrogen gas rather than helium.
Slate secured a section of land adjacent to Glendale's Grand Central Airport, large enough to construct a colossal hangar.
Steam from a flash boiler in the cabin would drive a nose-mounted blower at 6,000 revolutions/minute; the paddle-shaped blades would throw the air (ahead of the bow) outward, creating a low-pressure area into which the large dirigible body would be pushed (by the ambient atmospheric pressure on its rear surfaces).
Slate portrayed his airship as being able to pluck patrons from decks of ocean liners, and roofs of luxury hotels, bypassing the need to travel to airports or other depots.
With a crowd watching, Slate's handlers released its restraining cables until the shiny unit rose to thirty feet above the concrete.
However, problems with the steam-production equipment delayed flight testing until December, when Slate gave up on that system and installed an internal-combustion engine (a Wright Whirlwind) driving a conventional propeller to move the craft.
Since the country was slipping into The Great Depression, no financing could be found to fund repairs, so the structure was sold for scrap ($0.60 per pound), the employees were discharged, and the Slate Dirigible Corporation was dissolved.
His proposal to install "cyclone-producing devices" atop the mountains surrounding the valleys attracted some interest in the press, but no firm offers were received, and he dropped the idea.