Aeroplane Entertainment 1910 – A Cosmic Journey
It was a different time, the speed of an Aeroplane, slow by today’s standards, was relative to the velocity people could travel in automobiles of the day. In 1910, it wasn’t unusual that someone attended an air event arriving by horse and buggy. Pilots, typically titled aviators, represented a few men and women who could dazzle a crowd with seemingly impossible feats of courage and mystery — the art of flying. Their courage and determination at air events forever changed the expectation of what a little wire, fabric and gasoline could do.
Newspapers of the day shadowed the public’s uncertainty of the usefulness of flying machines. The U.S. military was not convinced that there was any value in the evolution of the device, European military organizations were only curious. Financiers considered the investment in aeroplane manufacture risky and unknown. Obviously, that would change in time. In 1910, years before the Great War, WWI, and the development of fast, stable aircraft, the business of flying was left to a few, daredevils, or today what we might call innovators.
The circuit of daredevil flyers crisscrossing the nation was more significant than most imagine. Omaha, NE hosted a four day aviation event in July known as the Mid-West Aviators’ Meet. Glenn H. Curtiss, J. C. Mars, Eugene Ely, and other noted aviators participated. To help ensure planned attendance of 6,000 spectators, spherical and dirigible balloons as well as heavier than air machines – aeroplanes, were advertised. The event claimed aviators would attempt to break existing records in rapid flight, altitude flight, quick starting and in the skillful engagement of air races. As early as 1910, there were friendly air race rivalries, the most notable between Ely and Mars.
Glenn Curtiss was actively engaged in convincing the U.S. military to invest in the utility of aviation through public events. He tossed oranges from 300 feet introducing the idea of a bombing run. His accuracy was within three feet of the decks of the yacht used in place of a battleship. A quote of the time, Curtiss said, “He purposely failed to strike the deck of the yacht for fear of injuring the officials and passengers gathered on her decks.”
Walter H. Brookins was an aviator of the day and landed to a crowd of 50,000 spectators in 1910. The Springfield, Illinois crowd was enthusiastic about his success in demolishing two records, the world’s record for a continuous flight between two geographical points, including necessary stops, and the American record for sustained flight. He had finished his flight of 186 miles from Chicago in seven hours and ten minutes which included service stops. His actual time in the air was five hours and forty-one minutes, averaging was about thirty-two miles an hour. He won a $10,000 prize, an amount most airshow performers today would still enjoy.
More than 10,000 people attended an exciting air/auto race in Poughkeepsie, NY in September 1910. Eugene Ely, in a Curtiss biplane raced Ralph de Palma in his 1910 Fiat Cyclone at the Hudson River driving park. The winner needed to be the first to circle the mile long circular track three times. De Palma made three circuits of the course as Ely completed two. Being a crowd pleaser, Ely sped away flying three miles straightaway and returned. As he neared the fair grounds, in a 25 mph wind, the aeroplane suddenly swerved sharply to the left, almost unseating Ely. Descending in nearly a complete circle and at a terrific rate, Ely landed in a cabbage patch a mile from the starting point. He was badly shaken up but unhurt. A stay wire attached to the steering gear had snapped, and to prevent the craft running wild Ely held the machine in its circular course.
In October, a crowd of 10,000 people gathered to encourage Ely as he began a 1,000 mile, seven day air race to New York. Other aviators were on hand to start the race; McCurdy and Willard were two prominent aviators who met the compliance requirements. A special train, the Eastern Metropolis, would guide the flyers with white painted railroad car tops. As soon as Ely was out of site, many of the spectators boarded the train heading to New York. Ely narrowly escaped injury early in the race when his engine went dead while he was flying at about 500 feet. He glided to the ground, landing in an open field, but struck in a ditch. Accidents and mechanical failures plagued the event which occupied the headlines for days.
Eugene Ely would forever make his mark on aviation on November 14, 1910. More than entertaining the crowds, he was chasing a $5,000 prize for the first flight of a mile or more from any ship to land. The prize was offered by John Barry Ryan, a wealthy Newport, Rhode Island aviation enthusiast. Through intermittent rain and hail showers Ely began an encounter with history. Ely’s Curtiss pusher airplane was loaded onto the cruiser Birmingham and they soon steamed for nearby Hampton Roads, the scene of another epoch in history where an ironclad proved its superiority over the former type of wooden fighting vessel. A wooden ramp had been built over the Birmingham’s bow to provide a gravity-assisted 57-foot takeoff run.
At 3:16 PM he gunned the engine, gave the release signal and glided off the wooden platform. On the descent, before gaining full airspeed, the aircraft briefly touched the water, damaging its propeller, spraying salt water into his face and goggles and causing heavy vibrations as the airplane climbed. Ely, a non-swimmer, and unsure of the damage, decided to land after assuring himself that he accomplished the required one mile flight. He actually landed two and a half miles away and became the first person to take off from a warship. Although it was something of a stunt he earned $5,000, a little more than $110,000 today. The stunt received wide publicity and more was to come – Ely’s January 1911 flight that reset history and demonstrated the need for U.S. Navy pilot training.
John Cilio is a freelance writer living in Connecticut. You can contact him at: questions@vintageflyer.com