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Dunbar writes on
Education
Dunbar Supports DuBois
Paul Laurence Dunbar was the first African-American poet to receive worldwide
fame. While not a teacher he was greatly interested in college education for
black students.
Two of his famous black contemporaries
and friends had different philosophies about the best way to educate black
students. W. E. B. DuBois favored a classical liberal arts education for an
elite that he called "The Talented Tenth."
Booker T. Washington favored an industrial education oriented toward actual
jobs available to most African Americans at the time.
They participated in a great debate
series on the subject in the Crisis, the publication of the NAACP.
DuBois was the Editor–in-Chief of the publication.
Dunbar wrote a strong article on which side he favored in The Independent in
1898. I will duplicate Dunbar’s article below, but before I do I want to
explain why I include an article by Dunbar in a series of articles about the
Wright brothers.
Dunbar and Orville Wright were classmates
and friends in Central High School in Dayton. After high school both brothers
continued their relationship. The Wright brothers went into the printing
business and printed a newspaper written by Dunbar called the Tattler.
Dunbar also contributed poetry to a Wright brothers’ newspaper called the West
Side News.
Dunbar had experience in debate. In high school he was the president of the
debating society.
Another tidbit, DuBois taught at
Wiberforce University located outside Dayton, Ohio.
Here’s the article:
Our New Madness
We Negroes are a people who are prone to be taken by sudden enthusiasms. We fly
with the swiftness of thought from one extreme to another. We are young, and we
have the faults of youth and commit its errors. Age and experience, perhaps
bitter, most certainly wholesome, must teach us conservatism.
We are now in the throes of feverish
delight over industrial education. It is a good thing, and yet one of which we
can easily have too much. There is only one point, hardly large enough, it
seems, to make the basis of an article, to which I wish to call attention. It
is the danger we court of going to the other extreme of educating the hand to
the exclusion of the needs of the head.
The answer comes back: "But industrial education means the equal
training of the hand and head." Of course it does; but the danger is
that the meaning may be mistaken, and the most easily appearing points seized.
That is, that while the high and sublime
object of teaching may be to produce an able, thinking carpenter, with the
power of enjoying the higher intellectual pleasures of life, is it not likely
that what will be produced from this new people will be a carpenter with a
steady hand --- and I do not decry that --- but with a mind out of which is
shut all appreciation for the beauty of art, science and literature.
You say: "But we all can’t be doctors and lawyers and
preachers." No, to be sure not, but let some of us be; for we cannot
all of us be carpenters, tinners and brick masons.
There has been here of late too great an
insistence upon manual training for the Negro. He needs it. Any one who has
studied his condition, either at the North or the South, cannot but admit that.
But that the demands of his heart and mind call also for the most liberal and
the broadest culture he can get, the earnest seeker after truth cannot deny.
The statement has been so strongly and so frequently urged that the Negro
should work with his hands that the opposite of the proposition has been
implied. People are taking it for granted that he ought not to work with his
head. And it is so easy for these people among whom we are living to believe
this; it flatters and satisfies their self-complacency.
At this late day the Negro has no need to
prove his manual efficiency. That was settled fifty years ago, when he was the
plantation blacksmith and carpenter and shoemaker. But his intellectual
capacity is still in doubt.
Any attempt at engaging in pursuits where his mind is employed is met by an
attitude that stigmatizes his effort as presumption. Then if the daring one
succeeds, he is looked upon as a monster. He is put into the same category with
the "two-headed boy" and the "bearded lady."
There has not, in the history of this
country, risen a single black man whose pretensions have not been sneered at,
laughed at, and then lamely wondered at. If he was fair of complexion, they
said that he derived his powers from his white blood. If he was convincingly
black, they felt of his bumps, measured his head, and said that it was not
Negro in conformation. It is his intellectuality that needs substantiating.
Any one who has visited the school at Tuskegee, Alabama and seen the efficiency
of the work being done there, can have no further doubt of the ability and
honesty of purpose of its founder and president, Booker T. Washington.
But I do fear that this earnest man is
not doing either himself or his race full justice in his public utterances. He
says we must have industrial training, and the world quotes him as that we must
not have anything else.
A young man wants to enter a profession, and he speaks to a white man eminent
in that particular work. The reply comes: "Now, what do you want to try
a profession for? Why don’t you take up a trade of some kind?"
‘But I don’t want to take a
trade," says the young man. "I
want to follow my own bent."
"Well, you’re all wrong. It’s as your man, Mr. Washington, down there
says; you people ought to be content to do manual labor for generations yet. I
have always said that the colored people were too ambitious and expected too
much."
"But suppose that individual
inclinations" ---
"You have no right to any individual feelings in the matter. You should
consider your race and its special fitness for certain kinds of work,"
and so on ad nauseam.
Now here I object. I do not believe that
the individual should bend his spirit in accordance with ideas, mistaken or
otherwise, as to what his race should do. I do not believe that a young man,
whose soul is turbulent with message should be given to the world through the
pulpit or the press, should shut his mouth and shoe horses; nor do I believe
that this is what the best advocates of manual training would teach; but it is
the interpretation which the great world is putting on their doctrine.
The incident is related that during the late war, just after the fall of a
Southern city, an old colored man was seen stealing out of a lawyer’s
dismantled office with two volumes of Blackstone’s "Commentaries"
under his arm. To the question "What are you going to do with them
Uncle Ike?" he replied: "Hush, chile! I’s gwine to run fu’
Congress."
It is just possible that the Negro of the
present day is not too wise to seize the most palpable tools of a strange
system, and miss the deeper meaning of the whole.
I would not counsel a return to the madness of that first enthusiasm for
classic and professional learning; but I would urge that the Negro temper this
newer one with a right idea of the just proportion in life of industry,
commerce, art, science and letters, of materialism and idealism, of
utilitarianism and beauty! End
Reference: The Independent, August 18,
1898.
The Dayton Boys
Wilbur Wright had few close friends outside the family. An exception was the
"The Annual Club of Ten Dayton Boys." It was an informal social club
that enjoyed such things as singing. Reportedly, Wilbur had a fine bass voice.
The club was founded October 9, 1886, by Wilbur’s older brother Lorin in
the Wright family’s living room on Hawthorne street. Wilbur, 19, was the
youngest member of the club that included his older brother, Reuchlin.
Other members from their West Side of Dayton neighborhood included Charles
Olinger, a machinist at National Cash Register Co.; Edgar Ellis, a soapmaker,
and Wilbur Landis, a printer.
The club had dinner together once a year and carefully reported the minutes
of their gathering in a leather-bound book. At their first meeting they
recorded that their menu consisted of fried oysters, stewed oysters, raw
oysters and iced Adams ale.
They also recorded personal aspects of their lives. In 1890 Landis reported
he had "been painfully acquainted with the fact that I arrived at the
advanced age of 26, from the scarcity of hair on the top of my head."
Each year, each member reported his occupation. Wilbur, his first year,
reported his occupation as "clerk" at J. J. Hoffman’s Grocery. Then
for several years he reported his occupation as "bicycle
manufacturer." Then in 1904 he reported his occupation as
"Birdman."
 It
has been said that a dog is man’s best friend. Wilbur, as well as Orville,
enjoyed having dogs as friends.
When Wilbur was in France in 1908 for an extended stay during which he
dazzled Europe with his airplane, he adopted a stray dog that he aptly named
Flyer. They kept each other company living in a simple wooden shed that served
as a hanger and living quarters at the Les Hunaudieres Race track near Le Mans
that served as a flying field.
Wilbur was the only member of the Dayton club to achieve prominence.
When Wilbur died in May 1912 at the age of 45. Six pallbearers, two of which
were members of the club, carried Wilbur’s coffin through Woodlawn Cemetery.
Famous Black Poets Dunbar and Angelou have a
Connection
 An
article in USA Today listed ten great places to visit that are well versed in
poets (April 13, 2007). One of those is the Paul Laurence Dunbar historical
home and visitor center in Dayton, Ohio.
Dunbar, son of freed slaves, was a good friend of the Wright brothers and a
high school classmate of Orville. Dunbar achieved fame and fortune in his short
life and became one of the first African-American poets. He died at the young
age of 33 of tuberculosis.
 The
famous contemporary black poet, Maya Angelou took the last line of Dunbar’s
poem, Sympathy, for the title of her book, I
Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The book is a chronicle of her
life up to the age of sixteen and was published in 1970. It was a great
critical and commercial success.
Here is Dunbar’s poem:
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals –-
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Nephew and Niece Remember Orville and Wilbur
"Uncle Orv" and "Uncle Will" were storytellers. They
made tin shadow figures and put on shows. They made candy, liked to tinker with
toys, and they were always handy to talk to and answer questions.
Simply put, they were pretty special people to their nieces and nephews, the
children of their older brother, Lorin Wright.
Why, they were so special, they even flew.
They were always inventing things, and flying was something they said they
were going to do, so maybe it wasn’t all that special.
When you’re seven years old, candy and stories and a knee to sit on are
more important than the world’s first and only flying machine.
And fame doesn’t mean much, either.
"As children we didn’t think of them as famous, or with awe, but
rather as kindly uncles, stern, demanding, but with favor. We had a different
feeling for them because we were children."
Ivonette Miller, seven years old when powered flight was achieved for the
first time, was a small, cheerful woman who seemed younger than her years. She
had a clear, sharp memory, undimmed by the mad rush of technology beginning
with the work of Wilbur and Orville.
She and her younger brother, Horace "Bus" Wright, were keepers of
the family attic of stories, mementos and memories. They kept them well and
bright.
Diminutive Horace Wright, who carries the sharp facial features of his
famous uncles, was only two years old when the first flight was made.
Understandably, his bright memories were of a later period, and don’t concern
Wilbur, who died in 1912, as they do Orville’s later life.
Brother and sister claim not to have been seriously affected in life because
of their family’s fame, but their care for the responsibilities of Wrighthood
says otherwise.
Said Horace, "most people can’t imagine what they were like. They
had their lives planned in steps. It was our attitude that if Uncle Orv and
Uncle Will said "they could, they could." He remembers both men
as deliberate in pursuit of their goals in the years between the first flight
and Wilbur’s death at age 45.
"They never underestimated our intelligence. We got pretty complete
answers for our ages. They expected full and complete answers from us kids,
too."
In that less hectic time, the Wrights of Dayton – the family was scattered
across the Midwest at the time – lived near one another in what is now Dayton’s
Inner West side, not far from the Third Street site of the famous bicycle shop
where the first successful powered airplane was built. It was common for the
children, including Ivonette and Bus, to be dropped off at the shop while their
mother went downtown on errands. Visits between the Lorin Wrights and
Grandfather Milton Wright’s home at 7 Hawthorne St., where Wilbur, Orville
and Katharine lived, were a routine part of life.
In the shop, surrounded by the smells of glue, wood shavings and banana oil
used to treat the propellers, says Ivonette, "They would always show us
what they were doing and explain what was happening. They were very patient
with us."
"If Uncle Will had anything to do, though, he just kept doing it. Uncle
Orv would keep us busy and interested."
At home, there were the tin puppet characters, the candy-making, the books
and stories to be told to children perched on the laps of the brothers.
"When storytelling was over," Horace remembers, "they’d
just stretch their legs out. We’d slide off and know it was time to find
something else to do."
The brothers subscribed to an encyclopaedia-like magazine to help feed the
inquisitive minds of their nieces and nephews, and there were toys, too. But
usually, the toys had been dismantled at least once by Uncle ORV and Uncle
Will, who wanted to know how they worked; how they could be improved.
Sometimes, the toy surgery was fatal.
There were no flights from 1905 to 1908 as the brothers sought to expand on
what they had learned, and as they tried to sell airplanes.
Then, the outside world began to intrude more and more on the Wright family.
Wilbur went to France to demonstrate the flyer, and the postcards came back
with exotic sounding postmarks and strange stamps. The number of distinguished
visitors at the shop and at Hawthorne Street grew. There were disbeliever’s,
too.
"I don’t think anybody really believed it until 1908," said
Ivonette, "Until Will flew it in France."
Back home, the Wrights finally became real celebrities and the honorees of a
massive civic celebration in Dayton in 1909, but when the hoopla died down, the
Wrights were treated as ordinary citizens on the street.
Family relationships never really changed, she remembers, and "less
and less attention was paid to the brothers in their daily commerce. If you saw
them day after day, you didn’t think anything of it."
The community didn’t really understand how important the flights and the
tests which followed were. "People didn’t think it was all that
unusual," says Horace. "One day, dad met a couple of newsmen
as he was coming in from the flying field. They asked if anything had happened,
and he said, They went around the field a couple of times. The newsmen said
that If they ever do anything important, let us know."
"But that wasn’t the first time they’d made an airplane turn, and
no one understood how important that was."
Bus Wright also remembers the first "commercial flight" in 1910,
When Orville flew along the Great Miami River to the site of an industrial fair
to advertise the event at Third and Bank Streets. A similar flight was staged
that same year at the Hudson-Fulton celebration in New York City, followed not
long after by the first cargo flight, in which a bolt of silk was carried
between Dayton and Columbus.
Not too many years later, Ivonette and two of her cousins had a chance to
take turns flying with Orville at Huffman Prairie, now part of Wright-Patterson
Air Force Base.
She was the last to fly that day, and remembers Orville shouting over the
noise of the engine as they sat on the lower wing. "There’s the
train. Shall we catch it?"
She remembers the silence as the motor was cut off and the plane brought to
a landing in time to catch the interurban car back to Dayton.
After Wilbur’s death, which followed a long series of patent infringement
suits and other legal and commercial difficulties, Orville sold the airplane
business, in 1915.
"Had Uncle Will lived," says Bus Wright, "They’d
have gone into the design and testing of ship propellers. All they really
wanted to make enough to have a laboratory and do more experimenting.
"But Uncle Orv didn’t do much after Uncle Will died. He missed the
stimulus Will had offered. Wilbur was a leveler. He was always teased about
being a thinker while Orville was a doer."
Although he was a consultant and engineer on World War I era work of the
Dayton-Wright Airplane Company, he never again worked seriously on the theory
and practice of flight and seldom flew as a passenger, let alone as a pilot.
He had built a new laboratory at 15 N. Broadway, not far from the former
home on Hawthorne St. and the bicycle shop.
There, he went back to being what he was, an inventor, ready to try out new
ideas in a variety of areas. He worked on coding machines, a record changer,
shock absorbers, and even a player piano in that building.
And none of the next generation of Wrights became pilots or airplane
builders. "All of the people in the family tended to go their own
ways," Says Bus Wright.
"None of the Wrights became fliers," says Ivonette Miller.
"Uncle Orv discouraged it. He thought flying was too dangerous in the
early days. He saw too many men killed."
Nor did the Wright children join their famous uncle in his laboratory work,
although they were always welcome to watch, welcome to an explanation of what
was going on, or a chance to tinker alongside.
Horace said, "I think Uncle Orv wanted me to go in with him, but I
couldn’t work with him. He couldn’t keep his hands off what you were
doing."
Bus Wright’s interests lay in other areas. He worked in his father’s toy
factory, but his love was botany. Eventually, with financial help form Orville
and Aunt Katharine, he completed his degree in that field and spent his working
life in agriculture raising poultry and hybridizing iris.
Ivonette didn’t get the same college aid because she decided not to attend
Oberlin College, Aunt Katharine’s school. Instead, Ivonette chose to attend
Miami in Oxford, Ohio; later was a choir soloist while raising a family, and
involved in a business she shared with her husband.
She wrote two books of reminiscences about what it was like to grow up in
the Wright family.
"I always felt they gave us a good outlook on life," she said.
"Honesty was one of the things they talked about more than anything
else. I can’t imagine our lives without them."
Reference: Adapted from article in "Dayton Air Fair Program,"
1978.
Episode of Captain Paul Engelhard
Captain Paul Engelhard, a retired German Naval Officer, who was taught to
fly by Orville Wright, was involved in an international incident in France in
1910.
The German-Wright Co. contract had required the training of one pilot. At
Potsdam, Orville began this training with Engelhard and ended after Engelhard
made three solo flights on October 13, 1909.
Engelhard earned pilot’s license no. 3 in Germany and went on to set
aviation records.
One of his flights he will surely remember. Engelhard was on his way from
Berlin to participate in the Tier-Metz air meet. On his way his Wright biplane,
made by the German Wright Company (Flugmaschine Wright Gesellschaft), ran out
of fuel and he was forced to land among the cows on a farm in Frouard, France.
 A
sharecropper, Mr. Esch, greeted him in a very friendly manner. Before long
however the atmosphere changed and Engelhard was accused of the audacity of
conducting espionage as he flew close to the Fort at Frouard. Bad relations
were already developing between France and Germany in this pre-war period and
the gendarmes from Frouard were quickly dispatched to confiscate the airplane.
If that wasn’t bad enough for poor Engelhard, customs agents also arrived
on the scene with an order to tax him 147 Franks for importing his airplane.
Engelhard didn’t have a centime on him.
The following day Engelhard expressed his desire to fly straight back to
Germany, but was told he would have to take the train. Apparently, he did
convince them he met no harm because he received his papers to return by air.
By 4:30 in the afternoon a large crowd had gathered on the field to see the
Captain off. As he was preparing his airplane to leave, the unyielding tax
inspector who was still there demanded his 147 Francs, but gendarmes on mounted
horses released the plane over the inspector’s protest.
There were more problems to come. Engelhard started the engines and after
rolling about 30 meters the propellers seized. He made another attempt, but the
same thing happened again after going only 20 meters. After yet another
attempt, the machine yawed and struck the ground, which resulted in a broken
right wing.
Engelhard dismounted and resigned himself to sending his machine back to
Germany by train. It was dispatched to Metz.
Wilbur flew with Engelhard while visiting Germany in 1911. It was one of
Wilbur’s last flights. Wilbur wrote home to Orville on June 28 from Berlin:
"The poor Captain Paul Engelhard would not believe that I could carry
two men with 375 turns of the propellers till I took him up and did it."
Aviation Pioneer Loening Worked for
Orville
Grover C. Loening earned his Masters of Arts Degree in Aeronautical
Engineering from Columbia University in 1910. The first person in the United
States to earn such a degree and its award, he helped usher in the field of
aeronautical engineering and went on to fulfill a distinguished career in
aviation.
Early in his career he made an extra effort to meet Wilbur Wright. That
meeting led to him being hired to work for the Wright Co. by Orville Wright
several years later.
Here is the story: Wilbur was on Governors Inland in New York Harbor for the
Hudson-Fulton Celebration in September 1909. Wilbur, with thousands of
spectators watching flew around the Statue of Liberty and up the Hudson River
to Grant’s Tomb and returned to Governors Island.
Grover Loening came from a well-to-do family with important contacts. His
mother knew that her son wanted to meet Wilbur, so she asked August Belmont, a
New York financier, if he would write a letter of introduction for her son,
which he did. Then she obtained a pass for him to use on the ferry dock.
Grover passed security and walked to where Wilbur was working outside his
hanger. There was his hero working on his plane. Grover walked up and handed
Wilbur the letter from Belmont. Wilbur briefly looked at the letter and went
back to work without saying a word leaving Grover standing there.
Observing that Grover wasn’t about to leave, Wilbur gave him a rag and
told him to wipe up the oil that had accumulated under the engine. The rag didn’t
soak up all of the oil, so Grover took his handkerchief out of his pocket and
finished the job.
Grover later in life said he looked back on the incident as the first step
to success as an aeronautical engineer.
Wilbur was impressed with the young man and told Orville about him.
In 1913, after Wilbur had died, Orville became president of the Wright Co.
Orville wasn’t happy with the current factory manager, Frank Russell, so he
fired him.
Orville was looking for a competent engineer as a replacement for Russell.
He remembered the young engineer that Wilbur had talked about, so while Orville
was in New York on a business trip he asked Grover to stop by his hotel room
for an interview.
Loening, looking back at the interview said that he didn’t think that he
would be hired because he disagreed with one or two things Orville had said. A
week later he was hired as factory manager of the Wright Co.
Orville always enjoyed a good argument with Wilbur. Loening soon took the
place of Wilbur as a partner for arguments. Orville treated him as a younger
brother and enjoyed baiting him into arguments.
Loening was fond of Orville but it was tough working for him. Orville didn’t
enjoy performing the management function and he wasn’t good at it. He often
delayed making important decisions and left correspondence unanswered.
Loening would answer some of the routine letters on his own but he was
frustrated as to what to do because he didn’t want to disobey Orville either.
Apparently Orville appreciated the help with the letters. Orville was a person
that you didn’t put anything over on, a characteristic that Loening admired
in him.
Loening was much better dealing with people than Orville was, so Loening
performed a vital function of being the buffer between Orville and the New York
office of the company.
Orville directed all of the design work, even to small metal fittings. At
times he would work on things that Loening was already taking care of, such as
going to the shop and designing and building an item that Loening had already
made a drawing on.
Loening did design the first Wright flying boat, the Model G in 1913-1914.
Orville placed a major restriction on the design. It was not to resemble any
flying boats designed by Glen Curtiss. The limitation resulted in the plane not
meeting U.S. Navy requirements.
Loening was at first puzzled by Orville’s seemingly lack of vision or
ambition. Grover came to realize that Orville was obsessed with the patent
fight with Glenn Curtiss. This came to monopolize his time and attention.
Loening believed that it was getting the better of him. It also discouraged
innovation as with the limitation he placed on the design of the Model G.
Problems with another machine, the Model C airplane, would lead to Loening
leaving the Wright Co. The Model C was the standard production airplane for the
Wright Co. in 1913. The U.S. Army became disenchanted with the plane after five
of the six planes they had procured crashed killing six pilots.
The Model C was obsolete compared to the competition. Worse, Loening was
convinced that the plane contained a major design defect. It was slow, tail
heavy and the twin-lever control system was confusing to inexperienced pilots.
Loening said that flying a Wright plane was "like sitting on the top
of an inverted pyramid ready to fall off on either side at any moment."
Orville was adamant that there was no design defect.
The situation came to a head when Major Samuel Reber, Officer-in-Charge of
Army Aviation, advertised for a civilian engineer to oversee the air-worthiness
of machines in the Army inventory and a small research and development unit.
Loening at this point didn’t see much of a future at the Wright Co., so he
applied for the job and was hired. He resigned the Wright Co. on July 14, 1914
and was appointed an Aeronautical engineer in the U.S. Army Signal Corps.
The first significant action Loening took upon arrival was to declare all
Wright and Curtiss pusher type machines as unsafe to fly. Pusher type airplanes
are easy to stall and in a crash the engine fell on and crushed the pilot.
Loening wrote Orville several times during the year he was with the Signal
Corps but Orville seldom answered. Loening said that he felt that Orville never
forgave him for stopping the use of pusher type planes in the army.
The Wright Co. didn’t produce tractor type airplanes until after Orville
sold his interest in the company in 19 15. The plane was the Model K and it was
made for the U.S. Navy. The Model K also the first Wright machine to utilize
modern-type ailerons on both upper and lower wings instead of wing warping
which had been a feature of all Wright gliders and airplanes from the model
glider (kite) to the Model HS of 1915.
Loening maintained his respect for the Wright brothers over the years. He
was the chairman of the nominating committee for the election of Orville in
1965 to The Hall of Fame For Great Americans located on the campus of New York
University. Wilbur had previously been so honored in 1955. Their bronze busts
are place in its separate, but side-by-side niche at the Colonnade of the Hall
of Fame.
Grover Loening went on to a distinguished aviation career, including winning
the Collier Trophy in 1921, that spanned more than half a century, dying in 1976.
References : Bishop Boys by Tom Crouch; A Biography of the Wright Brothers
by Fred Howard
Reuchlin Wright, Oldest Wright Brother
Reuchlin, born on March 17, 1861, on a farm in Indiana was the first born of
the Wright children and the only one of the children that took no interest in
the airplane. At the age of 28, unable to find suitable work in Dayton and
chaffing at a possessive father, he moved to Kansas and lived there until his
death in 1920.
The degree of his estrangement from the rest of the family was highlighted
in 1912 at the time of Wilbur’s death. Reuchlin along with his brother Lorin
and sister Katharine, each received a bequest of $50,000. Reuchlin returned
$1000.00 of his share to his father saying that he believed that if Wilbur had
more time to think about it, he would have done something different in his
will. Bishop Milton Wright returned the money with the caustic comment that he
considered Wilbur’s will as "sacred writ."
Reuchlin had great potential but was a troubled person. He had great
difficulty, as a young man deciding what he wanted to do. Following high school
he graduated from Coe’s Collegiate Academy in 1878. The following year he
attended Western College, a United Brethren school located in Iowa, intending
to enter the ministry. His father, years later, received an honorary doctor of
divinity from the same school.
Reuchlin did not return to school after the first year, choosing instead to
take the state teacher’s exam teaching in an elementary school for one term.
The following fall he entered Hartsville College, another United Brethren
school, as a sophomore. His one-year younger brother, Lorin, attended as a
freshmen and they were roommates.
Their father and mother had previously attended the school and it was there
they first met. Milton was the supervisor of the preparatory department and
took some classes but never graduated. Katharine was a student and came within
three months of graduating.
The two brothers remained in the school for two years and then dropped out
to return to Dayton to find work in the fall of 1883. Reuchlin took a job in a
lumberyard as a clerk. At this time Wilbur was a senior in high school.
Three years later, in 1886, Reuchlin was in his twenties when he married
Lulu Billheimer, the daughter of United Brethren missionaries.
The 1890s were a time of depression in the U.S. and Lulu’s parents were
looking to Reuchon for financial help. Reuchon seemed overwhelmed with his
problems of chronic poor health, financial burden and increasing alienation of
from his family. Lulu complained to the Wright family that Reuchon had a lack
of ambition and an inability to get ahead.
Reuchon rebelled at the possessiveness of his father, who had firm beliefs
that left little room for compromise. The Bishop liked to have his children
close to him, even live with him. He could then shield them from harsh
treatment in a dishonest world. As for the other children, they revered him and
never doubted that he knew what was best for them.
In 1889, Reuchon decided to look for a job far away from Dayton. He found a
bookkeeping job in Kansas City where he worked until 1901. Then for health
reasons, he wanted to leave the city and go into farming. He asked his father
for financial help by selling the 320-acre farm he owned in Iowa. The Bishop
did and divided the money equally among the four boys.
Reuchon lived on the farm with his family until his death in 1920. He and
Lulu had four children – Catherine, Helen, Herbert and Bertha Ellwyn.
Wilbur must have been troubled by the problems of his oldest brother. He
himself had thought he had let opportunity pass him by during the years of 1885
to 1899. He wrote in 1901 that the boys of the Wright family are all lacking in
determination and push. "None of us has as yet made particular use of
talent in which he excels other men."
At the time he wrote that statement he was on the verge of finding his
success with the airplane.
The Wright family in Dayton made a special effort to stay close to the
children who would visit Dayton periodically.
The Kansas family returned for the great Dayton celebration in honor of
Wilbur and Orville in 1909. There were fifteen members of the Wright family
seated on the speaker’s platform during the award ceremony including
Katharine, Reuchon’s family and Lorin’s family.
Bertha Ellwyn, the youngest of Reuchon’s children, said the Orville was
warm and loving with the kids and liked to play jokes on them. "One
time he held out a piece of balsa wood and pretended it was very heavy. I
reached for it and my hand went up in the air," she said. Orville
laughed.
Bertha Ellwyn received a special treat on August 29, 1911 at Huffman
Prairie. She, then 14, and her two cousins, Leontive (15) and Ivonette (14),
were each taken for an airplane ride by Wilbur.
Reuchlin returned to Dayton when notified of the ill health of Wilbur. He
arrived on May 24 and Wilbur died on May 29, 1912. At the funeral the
Presbyterian minister read an account of Wilbur’s life prepared by Reuchlin.
In 1946 Orville drove his car all the way to Lawrence, Kansas to attend the
wedding of Bertha Ellwyn’s daughter. His appearance was much appreciated by
the Kansas family because everyone knew that Orville experienced pain in his
hip while driving. The pain came from the time his airplane crashed at Ft. Myer
in 1908.
Bertha Ellwyn’s husband, Harold Steeper, was named a co-executor of the
Wright estate by Orville. Orville died in 1948
Orville’s Involvement with Progressive Education
In 1917, Orville Wright became involved in the establishment of a private
school that adopted the then new philosophy of Progressive Education.
It came about when a group of Dayton’s technical and engineering elite,
unhappy with the current public schools, decided to establish a new kind of
school. It would be a school devoted to the philosophy that education is not
primarily to impart information, but to impart to the child qualities,
character and accomplishments that the child will need as an adult.
The supporters were an elite group that were members of the Dayton Engineers’
Club. Charles Kettering, the inventor of the "self-starter" for
automobiles, and Edward Deeds, the president of the NCR, founded the club in
1914. Orville Wright was one of the original members and second vice-president
of the club. Another member was Arthur Morgan, who was in charge of the Miami
Conservancy District, Dayton’s world renowned flood control project.
One night, the invited speaker at the Engineers’ Club was Herman
Schneider, dean of the engineering school at the University of Cincinnati (UC).
Schneider had introduced a new concept of cooperative education at UC in which
students alternated off-campus work assignments with on-campus schoolwork.
The talk caught the attention of Morgan who, while not an educator, was an
utopian who held notions that the schoolhouse received too much attention and
favored practical experience as a way to properly mold children.
The talk spurred Morgan to action. He convinced the club of the merits of
organizing a private school for boys and girls implementing his ideas of
providing a new school where students might be educated along broader lines
than education received in ordinary school routine.
A nine-member board was appointed that included Morgan, Kettering, Deeds,
and Orville Wright. Orville’s sister Katharine was a teacher there for a
short time. They named the school, Moraine Park, and Kettering donated an
11,250 square foot greenhouse on his estate that was renovated to serve as the
school building.
A nation-wide search resulted in a Colorado educator, Frank Slutz, being
selected as headmaster. The school opened in 1917 as the Moraine Park School
with 33 students.
The school provided grades K-12 for both boys and girls and among the first
60 students were Kettering’s son Eugene, Morgan’s two sons, and Orville’s
nephew Horace.
The campus included a bank, a print shop, a museum and a dark room.
There were no grades given. Instead, the parents received a report of
strengths and weaknesses in "congregating, language, acquiring
possessions, cosmologizing, creating or bringing things to pass, manconserving,
pairing, playing or relaxing oneself."
Learning was organized around doing, underscoring the school’s assumption
that education is not primarily to impart information. There were no required
classrooms.
Raising chickens, for example, were used as a math lesson requiring students
to determine how much feed would produce how many eggs at what price.
Students ran the school print shop, bank and performed the janitorial and
secretarial tasks and kept the lunchroom books.
The school prospered and received much attention. Educators came from all
over the country to observe what was taking place. Parents became interested
and sent their children there, even from neighboring cities and towns. Students
and parents enjoyed the school and enrollment rose to 200.
New buildings were added as enrollment increased. Community government was
inaugurated. Students were being educated academically, socially and
vocationally.
Morgan in the meantime had been elected the first president of the
Progressive Education Association in 1920. John Dewey, one of the founding
fathers of progressive education, was one of his vice presidents.
Dewey believed that the primary purpose of progressive education was to make
public schools an instrument of social reform. He and his intellectual
associates believed that schools had the power to reconstruct society into
their vision of utopia.
The concepts of progressive education are commonly found today in the nation’s
public schools. Its philosophy disparages memorization of factual knowledge,
drill and practice and subject matter learning. Its dominance of the past
several decades helps explain why so may public schools are failing so many of
our children.
Morgan ignored or didn’t understand the program at the University of
Cincinnati (UC) that originally motivated him to apply what he heard from Dean
Schneider that night at the Engineers Club.
The UC program balances the work experience with core academics. In order to
achieve this balance, the program requires five years to graduate. The first
year is all academic work as is the last half of the fifth year. The
intervening years consists of year around rotation of seven weeks in the
classroom and ten weeks in a relevant work assignment.
I can vouch for the academic rigor of the program from personal experience,
as I am an UC engineering graduate (1954).
When the first students of Moraine Park arrived at college, the bubble
burst. The students quickly discovered that they were unprepared for college
because they had not mastered the academic fundamentals.
Kettering’s son was one of those who struggled in college. Kettering, the
schools primary benefactor, became disenchanted with the results of Moraine
Park School and withdrew his support.
He wrote the headmaster, "I fear we are neglecting the fundamentals
which you will never be able to get the boys to learn after they get past a
certain age."
I don’t know what Orville thought of the school, but he was a close friend
of Kettering, so I am certain that Orville discussed the issue with Kettering
and agreed with the letter. As engineers, they most likely viewed the issue as
an experiment that failed.
Parents and friends of the school rallied and said, "Moraine Park
School shall go on!" It was a vain hope. Without the leadership and
financial support of its founders the school closed.
References:
Grand Eccentrics, Mark Bernstein, 1996.
School Days, Virginia and Bruce Ronald,
1991.
AN OLD-TIME CHRISTMAS
By Paul Lawrence Dunbar
A renowned African-American poet, Paul Dunbar rose from a poor childhood in
Dayton, Ohio to international acclaim as a writer and as an effective voice for
equality and justice for African-Americans. He was a friend of the Wright
brothers and a Central High School classmate of Orville.
The following story of his appeared in the Sunday, December 25, 1898
issue of the Philadelphia Press.
--------
 When
the holidays cane around the thoughts of ‘Liza Ann Lewis always turned to the
good times she used to have at home when, following the precedent of
ante-bellum days, Christmas lasted all the week and good cheer held sway. She
remembered with regret the gifts that were given, the songs that were sung to
the tinkling of the banjo and the dances with which they beguiled the night
hours. And the eating! Could she forget it? The great turkey, with the fat
literally bursting from him; the yellow yam melting into deliciousness in the
mouth; or in some more fortunate season, even the juicy possum grinning in
brown and greasy death from the great platter.
In the ten years she had lived in New York, she had known no such feast day.
Food was strangely dear in the Metropolis, and then there was always the weekly
rental of the poor room to be paid. But she had kept the memory of the old
times green in her heart, and ever turned to it with the fondness of one for
something irretrievably lost.
That is how Jimmy came to know about it. Jimmy was thirteen and small for
his age, and he could not remember any such times as his mother told him about.
Although he said with great pride to his partner and rival, Blinky Scott,
"Chee, Blink, you ought to hear my ol’ lady talk about de times dey have
down w’ere we came from at Christmas; N’Yoick ain’t in it wid dem, you
kin jist bet." And Blinky, who was a New Yorker clear through with a New
Yorker’s contempt for anything outside of the city, had promptly replied with
a downward spreading of his right hand, "Aw fu’git it!"
Jimmy felt a little crestfallen for a minute, but he lifted himself in his
own estimation by threatening to "do" Blinky and the crowd rolled by.
‘Lisa Ann knew that Jimmy couldn’t ever understand what she meant by an
old-time Christmas unless she could show him one by some faint approach to its
merrymaking, and it had been the dream of her life to do this. But every year
she had failed, until now she was a little ahead.
Her plan was too good to keep, and when Jimmy went out that Christmas eve
morning to sell his papers, she had disclosed it to him and bade him hurry home
as soon as he was done, for they were to have a real old time Christmas.
Jimmy exhibited as much pleasure as he deemed consistent with his dignity
and promised to be back early to add his earnings to the fund for celebration.
When he was gone, "Liza Ann counted over her savings lovingly and
dreamed of what she would buy her boy, and what she would have for dinner on
the next day. Then a voice, a colored man’s voice, she knew, floated up to
her. Someone in the alley below her window was singing
"The Old Folks at Home."
"All up an’ down the whole
creation,
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for the old plantation,
An’ for the old folks at home."
She leaned out of the window and listened
and when the song had ceased and she drew her head in again, there were tears
in her eyes --- the tears of memory and longing. But she crushed them away, and
laughed tremulously to herself as she said, "What a reg’lar ol’ fool I’m
a-gittin to be.’ Then she went out into the cold snow-covered streets for she
had work to do that day that would add a mite to her little Christmas store.
Down in the street, Jimmy was calling out
the morning papers and racing with Blinky Scott for prospective customers;
these were only transients of course, for each had his regular buyers whose
preferences were scrupulously respected by both in agreement with a strange
silent compact.
The trolley cars went clanging to and
fro, the streets were full of shoppers with bundles and bunches of holly, and
all the sights and sounds were pregnant with the message of the joyous time.
People were full of the holiday spirit. The papers were going fast, and the
little colored boy’s pockets were filling with the desired coins. It would
have been all right with Jimmy if the policeman hadn’t come up on him just as
he was about to toss the "bones," and when Blinky Scott had him
"faded" to the amount of 5 hard-earned pennies.
Well, they were trying to suppress
youthful gambling in New York, and the officer had to do his duty. The others
scuttled away, but Jimmy was so absorbed in the game that he didn’t see the
"cop" until he was right on him, so he was "pinched." He
blubbered a little and wiped his grimy face with his grimier sleeve until it
was one long, brown smear. You know this was Jimmy’s first time.
The big blue-coat looked a little bit
ashamed as he marched him down the street, followed at a distance by a few
hooting boys. Some of the holiday shoppers turned to look at them as they
passed and murmured, "Poor little chap; I wonder what he’s been up to
how."
"It seems strange that ‘cooper’
didn’t call for help. A few of his brother officers grinned at him as he
passed, and he blushed, and the dignity of the law must be upheld and the crime
of gambling among the newsboys was a growing evil.
Yes, the dignity of the law must be
upheld, and through Jimmy was only a small boy, it would be well to make an
example of him. So his name and age were put down on the blotter, and over
against them the offense with which he was charged. Then he was locked up to
await trial the next morning.
"It’s shameful," the bearded
sergeant said, " how the kids are carryin’ on these days. People are
feelin’ pretty generous, an’ they’ll toss ‘em a nickel er a dime fur
paper an’ tell ‘em to keep the change fur Christmas, an’ foist thing you
know the little beggars are shootin craps er pitchin' pennies. We’ve got to
make an example of some of ‘em."
"Liza Ann Lewis was tearing through
her work that day to get home and do her Christmas shopping, and she was
singing as she worked some such old song as she used to sing in the good old
days back home. She reached her room late and tired, but happy. Visions of a
"wakening up" time for her and Jimmy were in her mind. But Jimmy wasn’t
there.
I wunner whah that little scamp is,"
she said, smiling; "I tol’ him to hu’y home, but I reckon he’s
stayin’ out latah wid de evenin’ papahs so’s to bring home mo’
money."
Hour after hour passed and he did not
come; then she grew alarmed. At 2 o’clock in the morning she could stand it
no longer and she went and awakened Blinky Scott, much to that young gentleman’s
disgust, who couldn’t see why any woman need make such a fuss about a kid. He
told her laconically that "Chimmie was pinched fur t’rowin’ de
bones."
She heard with a sinking heart and went
home to her own room to walk the floor all night and sob.
In the morning, with all her Christmas
savings tied up in a handkerchief, she hurried down to Jefferson Market
courtroom. There was a full blotter that morning and the Judge was rushing
through with it. He wanted to get home to his Christmas dinner. But he paused
long enough when he got to Jimmy’s case to deliver a brief but stern lecture
upon the evil of a child gambling in New York. He said that as it was Christmas
Day he would like to release the prisoner with a reprimand, but that he thought
that this had been done too often and that it was high time to make an example
of one of the offenders.
Well, it was fine or imprisonment.
‘Lisa Ann struggled up through the
crowd of spectators and her Christmas treasure added to what Jimmy had, paid
his fine and they went out of the court room together.
When they were in their room again she
put the boy to bed, for there was no fire and no coal to make one. Then wrapped
herself in a shabby shawl and sat huddled up over the empty stove.
Down in the alley she heard the voice of
the day singing: ---
"Oh darkies, how my heart grows
weary,
Far from the old folks at home."
And she burst into tears.
Paul Lawrence Dunbar
Spectacular Flight Ends in Grim Death
Ralph Johnstone, 24, a member of the Wright Brothers’ Exhibition Team and
holder of the World’s Altitude Record of 9,714 feet, was the first
professional American pilot killed in a crash. The location was Overland Park,
Denver, Colorado on November 17, 1910.
Fifteen thousand spectators at first his cheered his sudden descent,
believing it was a part of his act, only to be horrified when he plunged into
the ground and was crushed under his machine.
 Johnstone
of Kansas City was a former a trick cyclist who since the age of 15, had
performed acts such as flipping in midair after riding his cycle up a
springboard. He joined the exhibition team May 1910 and became one of the team’s
most daring pilots.
His most thrilling stunt was called the "spiral glide." The
spectators got their thrill’ but on this occasion it cost Johnstone his life.
Johnstone was visiting his uncle in Dayton just prior to his departure for
Denver. His uncle, W. M. Federman, made a prescient remark, "I’ll
receive a telegram one of these days to come after your remains."
"Not mine," said Johnstone, shaking his relative’s hand and
smiling. "When I make a flight, I have my plans well laid. Before I
leave the ground I know exactly what I am going to do. Don’t worry about me
being injured."
What happened on the fateful day was described in the Dayton Daily News on
Nov. 18, 1910.
Johnstone took off and after a few circuits of the course to gain height,
headed toward the foothills. Still ascending, he swept back in a big circle and
as he reached the north end of the enclosure he started his spiral glide.
He was then at an altitude of about 800 feet. With his wings tilted at an
angle of almost 90 degrees, he swooped down in a narrow circle, the aeroplane
seeming to turn almost in its own length.
As he started the second circle the middle strut, which braces the left side
of the lower wing, gave way and the wing tips of both upper and lower wings
folded up as though they had been hinged.
For a second Johnstone attempted to right the plane by warping the other
wing tip. Then horrified spectators saw the plane swerve like a wounded bird
and plunge straight toward earth.
Johnstone was thrown from his seat as the nose of the plane swung downward.
He caught on one of the wire stays between planes and grasped one of the wooden
braces of the upper wing with both hands. Then working with hands and feet, he
fought by main strength to warp the planes so that their surfaces might catch
the air and check his descent. For a second it seemed that he might succeed,
for the helmet he wore blew off and fell much more rapidly than the plane.
The hope was momentary, however, for about 300 feet from the ground the
machine turned completely over and the spectators fled wildly as the broken
plane, with the aviator still fighting grimly in its mesh of wires and stays,
plunged among them with a crash.
Scarcely had Johnstone hit the ground before morbid men and women swarmed
over the wreckage, fighting with each other for souvenirs. One of the broken
wooden stays had gone almost through Johnstone’s body. Before doctors or
police could reach the scene one man had torn this splinter from the body and
run away, carrying his trophy with the aviator’s blood dropping from its
ends.
The crowd tore away the canvas from over the body, and even fought for the
gloves that had protected Johnstone’s hands from the cold.
The machine fell on the opposite side of the field from the grandstand and
there was but a few hundred near the spot, but physicians and police were
rushed across as soon as possible. Physicians declare that death must have been
instantaneous as Johnstone’s back, neck, and both legs were broken, the bones
of his thigh being forced through the flesh and the leather garments he wore.
Arch Hoxsey, a fellow Wright team member, was in the air at an altitude of
2500 feet when the accident occurred. As he swung down the other end of the
course he saw that Johnstone had fallen and guided his machine directly over
the body of his friend. He descended as soon as he could bring his plane to the
ground and rushed to the wreckage, where he and Walter Brookins, the Wright
team leader, helped lift the mangled form to an automobile which brought it to
the city.
Many spectators were watching Hoxsey’s flight and did not see Johnstone’s
machine collapse, but a woman’s shriek, "My God. He’s gone," drew
every eye in time to see him dashed to death upon the ground. The band in the
grandstand blaring away under contract never ceased to play, and Johnstone’s
body was taken out of the enclosure with the strains of a ragtime melody for a
funeral march. (End of Dayton Daily New article)
Orville and Wilbur had been concerned by the ever more dangerous stunts the
team was performing and made repeated warning to their pilots. When Orville
first saw the "Spiral Dip" performed, he exclaimed, "Cut It
Out!"
The brothers had calculated the exact pressure the machines would sustain
and they told the boys (pilots) never to tilt their machines more than 45
degrees.
Wilbur said of Johnstone that the trouble with him is that he will never be
content with equaling the achievements of a rival. "He must always
excel. There is no way of holding him in. Orders mean nothing to him."
In September Wilbur tried to reign him in with a terse letter. He wrote the
following letter to Hoxsey and Johnstone:
"I am very much in earnest when I say that I want no stunts and
spectacular frills put on the flights there (Detroit). If each of you can make
a plain flight of ten to fifteen minutes each day keeping always within the
inner fence wall away from the grandstand and never more than three hundred
feet high; it will be just what we want. Under no circumstances make more than
one flight each day apiece. Anything beyond plain flying will be chalked up as
a fault and not as a credit."
But Hoxsey and Johnston, dubbed the "Stardust Twins" by the press
for their spectacular altitude duels, knew that the crowd didn’t come to see
sedate circles. Their competitive spirit drove them to show off for the crowd.
Johnstone couldn’t even follow his own advice in Denver. The day before
his deadly crash, he declared that he would not attempt any tricks the next day
because he felt it was too dangerous in the high altitude.
Johnstone’s widow, whom he had met and married in Paris, received the news
of his death from Wilbur who was in New York at the time where Mrs. Johnstone
lived with their two children. Orville was on his way to Europe on an ocean
liner.
Mrs. Johnstone telegraphed to Denver to hold the body there until her
arrival, but Wilbur persuaded her to have it sent to Kansas City, where his
parents lived. She remarked, "I never was worried about Ralph. He was
so brave and careful. It seemed nothing could happen to him. I did not take
into consideration a mishap to his machine."
Wilbur sent a telegram to Walter Brookins stating that he was leaving in
company with Mrs. Johnstone for Kansas City and instructed Brookins to have the
body sent to the city at once. He also requested Brookins to call off the meet,
providing the Denver officials consented.
They didn’t and the show went on.
It wouldn’t have surprised Johnstone that the show continued the next day.
In an interview published in the New York Times eleven days before his fatal
crash he was frank with his comments:
"I fly to survive. If I were not obliged there, I would not do it. I am
fatalistic. I believe that the hour of each one is fixed in advance, but for
those which are attracted by the plays of the sky, it comes early. The only
means of cheating it is to give up. But if it is written that you must
continue, you cannot release. I say it to you, people who come to see us, want
emotions. And if we fall, do you believe that they think of us and cry over our
fate at all.."
Mrs. Johnstone showed she had some of the same daring as her late husband.
In September 1911 she decided to take pilot lessons to master the machine that
killed her husband. At the time there were only two licensed female pilots in
America --- Mathilde Moisant and Harriet Quimby.
Hoxsey was the next Wright flyer to die. He was performing in Los Angeles
and crashed on December 31 in a manner similar to Johnstones’. Six of the
Wright’s team would die in crashes before 1912 was half over. Eleven months
after Hoxsey’s death the Wights had had enough even though they were making
good profits on the exhibition circuit. They dissolved the team in November
1912.
The Wright Company paid monthly annuities to the widows of the team members.
Some critics claimed that the Wright planes were flawed. But the Dayton
built machines were the sturdiest in the air. The problem was that the planes
were less stable and therefore gave the pilots absolute control. The planes
would do exactly what the pilots asked them to do.
By October 14, 1911 there had been 100 fatal airplane crashes worldwide.
It didn’t help that none of the planes had seat belts at the time. In fact
Brookins believes that Johnstone and Hoxsey fell out of their seats while still
alive. Wilbur concurred with his observation.
Eyewitness Account of First Flight by John Daniels
John T. Daniels was one of the three men from the Life Saving Station at
Kill Devil Hills that helped the Wright brothers launch the Flyer on its first
flight on December 17, 1903.
 Daniels
became famous, as he is the one that snapped the famous picture of that first
flight. He had never taken a picture before but it turned out to be a perfect
photograph.
He was also famous for trying to save the flyer after it was caught by the
wind while it was sitting on the ground after the fourth flight that day. A
sudden gust of wind sent Orville and Daniels scrambling to catch the Flyer.
They were too late, Orville let go but Daniels was caught up and trapped inside
the structure as the machine was sent tumbling over the sand. The Flyer ended
up being smashed into a tangled wreck.
Daniels emerged dazed but not seriously hurt still holding on to a piece of
the strut he had grabbed. Daniels held on to this piece of wood all of his
life. As he told the story to others he would take a penknife and shave off a
piece of wood and hand it to others as a souvenir. He had great fun saying that
he was the first airplane casualty.
John Daniels’ eyewitness handwritten account of the First Flight may be
the only one made other than that of the Wright brothers.
Here is his letter to a friend describing what he saw just as he wrote it.
The letter was written 20 years after the famous event and Daniels confused
some of the events that occurred on Dec. 17th with events that
occurred on the 14th. The coin toss he describes occurred on the 14th.
Manteo NC
June 30 ---- 1933
Dear friend,
I Don’t know very much to write about the flight. I was there, and it was
on Dec the 17, -- 1903 about  10
o’clock. They carried the machine up on the Hill and Put her on the track,
and started the engine, and they through a coin to see who should take the
first go, so it fell on Mr. Orval, and he went about 100 feet or more, and then
Mr. Wilbur taken the machine up on the Hill and Put her on the track and he
went off across the Beach about a half a mile or more before he came Down. He
flew so close to the top of a little hill the he Pulled the Rudder off so we
had to Bring her back to the camp, and it was there I got tangled up in the
machine and she Blew off across the Beach with me hanging in it, and she went
all to Pieces. It Didn’t Hurt me much I got bruised me some. They Packed up
every thing and went home at Dayton. That ended the Day. I snapped the first
Picture of a Plain that ever flew. They were very nice men and we all enjoyed
Being out at the Camp with them mostly every Day.
That accident made me the first airoplane causiality in the world and I have
Piece of the upright that I was holding on to when It fell.
Would be glad to Render any informattion at any time you need it.
Sincerely,
John T. Daniels
Manteo NC
Box 1W
Griffith
Brewer, A Friend of the Wrights
Griffith Brewer, a British patent attorney, was a true friend of the Wright
brothers and the staunchest supporter of Orville in his long fight with the
Smithsonian Institution over their deceitful claim that Langley’s "Great
Aerodrome" was the first machine capable of flight.
Brewer met Wilbur in 1908 when Wilbur was conducting flying exhibitions in
Le Mans, France, near Paris. Brewer had heard of the Wrights in 1906 but was
skeptical of their claims of flying. Although Brewer was involved in balloon
racing, he didn’t believe that a flying machine was possible.
Here is Brewer’s vivid description of his first meeting with Wilbur:
"I arrived at Le Mans after a heavy night journey and walked down
beside the field to the shed on the right side of the road. There, opposite the
shed, out in the middle of the field, was the first machine, or rather the
machine of 1908, with Wilbur Wright tuning it up.
"There was quite a crowd buzzing around at his work and as you know, a
crowd of that kind is very disconcerting, so I had some compunction in adding
to the crowd, and instead of going out to the crowd along side the machine I
sat down by the shed and smoked my pipe.
"A mechanic came from the machine over to the shed to fetch a spanner,
so I gave him my card to give to Wilbur Wright, and when he returned I saw
Wilbur Wright look at it and he nodded across to me and then went on with his
work.
"Time went on and there was no flight. Ultimately the machine was
wheeled back to the shed. The crowd dispersed, they all went back to Le Mans,
and I began to think I was forgotten. Sitting with my back to the shed (the
machine had gone inside and Wilbur had gone inside) I wondered whether I should
sit out there indefinitely. Then out came Wilbur Wright and said: ‘Now, Mr.
Brewer, let’s go and have some dinner!’ We went across to Madame Pollet’s
Inn and had a very nice simple dinner. We talked of all things American and I
did not bother him with aviation. That was probably his first rest from the
subject of flying since he left his home in Ohio many weeks before.
"We continued our talk on topics of mutual interest long into the
evening, both keenly interested in America life and habits, and when we
strolled back to the shed where Wilbur turned in for the night I said goodbye
and felt I had known him for a long time."
That was the beginning of a close friendship that lasted some 40 years.
Brewer first visited the Wrights in their home in Dayton in 1910 and regularly
visited them some 30 times afterwards over the next four years. He attended the
dedication ceremony of the Wright’s relocated home and bicycle shop at Ford’s
Greenfield village in 1936.
The Wrights found him a delightful visitor. His wit was subtle, the kind of
humor the Wrights enjoyed.
While at Le Mans, Wilbur surprised Brewer with a short airplane ride, making
him the first Englishman to experience the thrill of flight. He asked Wilbur to
teach him to fly at a later time.
In June 1914, Brewer returned to Dayton for a three months visit to take
flying instructions at Huffman Prairie and begin writing on a book on the
history of aviation. On the way, he stopped at the Smithsonian Institution and
was surprised to learn that Langley’s Great Aerodrome, that had twice failed
to fly before the success of the Wrights, had been reassembled and was in
Hammondsport, NY for new flight trials under the direction of Glenn Curtiss.
The Smithsonian and other Langley supporters were belittling the Wrights’
success by claiming that Langley would have succeeded if it were not for the
failures of the catapult mechanism located on the top of a houseboat. If Curtis
were successful in flying the reassembled machine, it would prove that the
Aerodrome was capable of flying before the Wrights. The reputation of Langley,
the director of the Smithsonian and designer of the Aerodrome would be
salvaged.
The rebuilt Aerodrome did lift off Lake Keuka, New York on May 28, 1914 in a
straight-line flight of 150 feet. After additional tests, it was restored to
its 1903 configuration and returned to the Smithsonian for display as the first
machine capable of flight.
Orville was outraged over the Smithsonian activity and asked Brewer to visit
Hammondsport and find out what he could. Brewer could logically ask for a tour
of the site as a representative of the British aeronautical community. Brewer,
a shy person, said he felt like a detective going into hostile country.
Lorin also went to Hammondsport a year later but he was caught taking
photographs and was forced to give them up to the Curtiss people. He was able
to observe and confirm to Orville the many design changes made to the
Aerodrome.
Brewer came away from his visit with photographs that proved that the
Aerodrome had been significantly modified from its original configuration in
1903. Subsequently, he wrote a letter to the New York Times that was published
June 22, 1914 that enumerated some of the changes.
World War I then intervened. The war ended the visitations from the Wrights
for seven years.
The unbelievable aspect of this sorry episode is that the Smithsonian
continued to assert that no significant design changes had been made to the
machine.
On October 20 1921, the war now over, Brewer went back on the offense in
support of the Wrights. He gave a lecture to Royal Society of the Arts that
exposed what was actually taking place, proving beyond reasonable doubt that
the 1914 tests had not demonstrated that the 1903 Aerodrome was capable of
flight. The paper he presented was titled, "The Langley Machine and the
Hammondsport Trials." (Orville had supplied Brewer with a list of the
serious alterations made to the Aerodrome). The paper caused a great furore
among the aeronautical community in Great Britain and the United States, many
of who had accepted the claims of the Smithsonian at face value.
But the Smithsonian was not backing down from its claim. Some were still
supporting it. The Literary Digest referred to Langley as the "Discoverer
of the Air." The French Journal-L’Aerophile congratulated Walcott, the
director of the Smithsonian Institution on "doing posthumous justice"
to a great pioneer.
Orville began to worry that if something was not done soon, the Smithsonian
version of events would make it into the history books.
In November 1923, Brewer had an idea for a new approach. He wrote a letter
to Orville that would initiate a sequence of events that would ultimately
expose the Smithsonian’s treachery and restore the 1903 Flyer to its honored
position of being the first airplane to fly.
In his letter, Brewer suggested that the Science Museum at South Kensington
would be glad to have an opportunity of taking care of and exhibiting the first
machine to fly.
Orville responded, "If I were to receive a proposition from the
officers of the Kensington Museum offering to provide our 1903 machine a
permanent home in the Museum, I would accept the offer, with the understanding,
however, that I would have the right to withdraw it at any time after five
years, if some suitable place for its exhibition in America should present
itself."
In April 1925, Orville decided that he would send the 1903 Flyer to the
Science Museum. The Dayton Journal was the first to publicly announce the
decision in a headline, "London Museum may get first Wright aeroplane."
A number of people asked him to reconsider. He responded to their pleas by
saying, "I believe that my course in sending our Kitty Hawk machine to
a foreign museum is the only way of correcting the history of the flying
machine, which by false and misleading statements has been perverted by the
Smithsonian Institution."
Orville, Mabel Beck, and Jim Jacobs reassembled the Flyer in Orville’s
laboratory in Dayton to guarantee that it would appear in its original form.
They performed some restoration work on the woodwork and completely recovered
the plane’s fabric. They placed the machine in crates along with assembly
instructions. The crates were loaded on the ship, Minnewasku, and it sailed to
England on February 11, 1928.
The Flyer would not return to America until 20 years later.
On March 23, 1928, the British public was able to see the Flyer. Some 10
million people saw the Flyer while it was on display.
Orville’s decision to send the Flyer to London was a smart political
decision because he knew that as long as the Flyer remained in England it would
be a constant reminder to Americans of the incorrect story. This gave him a
powerful bargaining chip to use with the Smithsonian.
In 1937 he wrote in his will that the flyer would stay in England until he
and only he requested its return. And he wouldn’t request its return unless
the Smithsonian acknowledged that the Wright plane was the first to fly.
During WW II the museum packed and stored the Flyer in the basement of the
museum and later, when bombing intensified, moved it to a quarry in the West
Country, some 100 feet below ground.
Several attempts were made to solve the controversy including appointing a
committee headed by Charles Lindbergh to talk to Orville, but Orville was
sticking to his demands.
Orville knew eventually that the political pressure would build. A
congressional hearing was in the works. Also the current director of the
Smithsonian had not been involved in the controversy so was not encumbered with
the past. The time was ripe to reopen negotiations.
Through the efforts of Brewer and Fred Kelly, the Wrights biographer, the
Smithsonian controversy was finally resolved. In compliance with one of the
principle conditions of resolution, the Smithsonian admitted to their deception
by publishing an article in one of their official technical magazines that
enumerated the many changes that they had made in the Aerodrome tested in
Hammondsport.
Orville was pleased that his demands had been satisfied. On December 8,
1943, he wrote to Colonel Mackintosh, director of the Science Museum asking for
return of the Flyer when it could be transported safely.
He wrote, "I appreciate the great trouble the plane has been to the
Museum under war conditions, and I am grateful for the unusual care the Museum
has taken for the plane’s safety."
Orville wanted historical accuracy. He continued his letter:
It has been suggested that I permit the plane to be retained and again be
exhibited in the Museum for six months after the war is over while a copy is
being made. I think this will be agreeable to me. But before the construction
of a copy is started, I would suggest that another set of drawings made by the
Museum in 1928 be sent to me for correction …. I have complete and accurate
drawings of the engine and shall be glad to furnish them if you decide to make
a replica …. I shall do whatever I can in helping you to get an accurate copy
of the plane and motor."
Tragically, Orville died January 30, 1948 before the priceless national
treasure arrived in America later in the year. A month later Griffith Brewer
also died.
Brewer was devoted to ensuring that the Wrights received the recognition
that they deserved. He lectured many times on their behalf and never gave up.
The Wrights in turn had a great feeling of gratitude for all their faithful
friend had done on their behalf.
Reference: Wright Reminiscences, compiled by Ivonette Wright Miller
Wright Brothers, Mentors of General Foulois
Major General Benjamin Foulois, a high school dropout who enlisted to serve
in the Spanish-American War, worked his way up the ranks of the Army to a Major
General becoming Chief, U.S. Army Air Corps. As a young Lt. He played a
critical role in the history of the Wright Brothers.
The Wright Brothers had been awarded an Army Air Corps contract to build an
airplane that met a number of critical requirements. The specification required
an airplane capable of carrying two men at a speed of 40 mph while staying
in the air for at least one hour. If successfully met, the Wrights’ would
be awarded $25,000 plus $2,500 for each mph above 40. (They could also lose
$2,500 for each mph below 40 mph.)
Lt. Foulois was the lowest ranking member of the five-man army aeronautical
board that would monitor the Wright’s performance in accordance with the
specification requirements. Foulois was fascinated with airplanes and had
written a research paper while attending Ft. Leavenworth that concluded that
airplanes would soon outperform balloons and dirigibles for wartime use.
While the Wrights were assembling their machine at Ft. Myer in preparation
for their upcoming flights, Foulois was constantly peppering Wilbur with
questions about flying. Wilbur was always courteous in answering his questions
but was becoming increasingly exasperated.
One day Foulois asked Wilbur about a book he was reading on flying. Wilbur
had enough of questions and answered, "There are no books worth reading on
the subject of flying. You get your hands on that machine over there if you
really want to learn about it."
Foulois was delighted to help, put on work clothes and went to work.
On July 27, Orville fulfilled the specification requirement of a two-man
flight for one hour, breaking the world’s record set by Wilbur in France. His
passenger was Lt. Frank Lahm who had reported to the now deceased Lt. Thomas
Selfridge who was killed the previous year in a flight with Orville.
The second specification requirement was for a ten-mile, two-man speed test.
The board allowed Orville to select a member of the board to fly with him as an
official observer. Orville chose Foulois. Orville liked him for his avid
interest in aviation.
Orville chose Foulois because he had experience in map reading and, as a
bonus he didn’t weigh much (126 pounds). His skill would be critically needed
because the terrain in those days was rugged between Ft. Myer and Alexandria,
containing three ravines and a forest. There would be no good place for an
emergency landing.
Foulois laid out the course to require a 10-mile round-trip to Alexandria,
Virginia and back. The turning point in Alexandria was called Shooter’s Hill
where the George Washington Masonic Memorial is now located. At the time, the
cornerstone had just been laid.
Foulois arranged for a sausage-shaped tethered balloon to fly above Shooters
Hill to mark the turnaround point.
 One
has to marvel at Orville’s and Foulois’s fearlessness. Since 1902, Orville
had endured five serious crashes. The previous year’s crash was nearly fatal
to Orville and Army board member Lt. Selfridge was killed. But, there was no
hint of any hesitancy on the part of either one.
Foulois showed up for the flight on July 30 fully prepared with two stop
watches around his neck, a aneroid barometer strapped to one thigh and a box
compass to the other. He stuck a map inside his belt.
They took off at 6:46 p.m. from the parade ground at Fort Myer with
President William Howard Taft and a crowd of 7,000 spectators cheering them on.
The Flyer climbed to 50 feet and circled the parade ground twice before heading
off to Alexandria.
Orville told Foulois that if they ran into trouble he would land in a field
or the thickest clump of trees he could find. Foulois said later he nodded and
gulped because he knew there wasn’t any flat land available on the route.
When the Flyer flew out of sight, the crowd fell silent with apprehension.
They were aware of the rugged course. Wilbur estimated what the time of travel
would be, but when the Flyer didn’t appear at the appointed time, he grew
concerned and beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down his checks.
His estimated time was too optimistic.
A spectator shouted, "he’s down!" Katharine gave him a
sharp reprimand. "How do you know he’s down?" Then there
were cries of "there it comes," as the Flyer reappeared over
the treetops to the south.
Orville nosed the plane down to pick up speed as it roared with a flourish
over the finish line at 7:08 p.m. to the cheers of the crowd and the honking of
horns. He went on to circle Arlington Cemetery, then turned off the motor and
glided in for a landing. Pandemonium reigned as the two men were almost mobbed
by the crowd.
On the return trip Orville flew at an altitude of 400 feet setting a new
world altitude record.
President Taft congratulated Orville on the spot. Lt. Foulois said it was
the only time he ever saw Wilbur smile.
The next day they learned that the Flyer’s average speed was calculated to
be 42.58-mph. That meant they earned a $5,000 bonus to add to their earned
40-mph price of $25,000. On August 2, 1909 the Signal Corps accepted the Wright
Flyer for military use. It was the first airplane purchased and placed in
service by any government.
This model, sometimes known as Signal Corps No. 1, was Wright Model A. It
was restored by the Wrights and now resides in the Air Force Museum in Dayton,
Ohio. It
was the only one of its type constructed by the Wrights.
The army contract also required the training of two military pilots. Lt.
Frank Lahm and Lt. Foulois were selected to be the first to receive the
training.
Before training could begin they needed to find a new location to fly. The
commanding officer at Fort Myer requested they move because they interfered
with his summer training program.
Frank Lahm found a new field they could use in Maryland near what is now the
University of Maryland. The field, College Park Airport, is sill in use.
At the last minute, Foulois was given orders to attend the International
Conference of Aeronautics at Nancy, France and an aeronautical exhibition in
Frankfort, Germany. Foulois was being punished for being too negative on the
future of the dirigible.
Lt. Humphreys was selected to take the place of Foulois.
When Foulois returned, he first flew with Wilbur on October 23. Three days
later Humphreys and Lahm made their first solo flight, becoming the first
military pilots in American history.
On November 5, Lahm and Humphreys crashed their airplane while flying
together. They were not hurt but there were no parts locally available to make
repairs. Besides, the weather was turning cold with hazardous crosswinds.
The army decided to move operations from College Park to a warmer climate at
Fort Sam Houston, Texas.
Lahm and Humphreys were given orders to return to their former non-flying
assignments.
Foulois argued hard to be the one to take the plane to Texas. A senior
officer who disapproved of Foulois and his campaign on behalf of the airplane,
approved of Foulois going to Texas, saying, "Let him have it. He'll
break his neck, and that'll be the end of this nonsense."
Foulois and nine mechanics were ordered to take the repaired Wright machine
No. 1 to Fort Sam Houston.
Foulois had time for only three flying lessons from Wilbur and that was not
sufficient to be able to solo. When Foulois mentioned this to his superiors, he
was told to "take plenty of spare parts and teach yourself to fly"
His orders to Texas were amended to divert their travel to Chicago to attend
an electrical trade exhibition to show off their airplane.
The machine was hung from the ceiling of the exhibition hall. An electric
motor was rigged to the propellers so they could spin as if in flight. The
opening night a popular singer appeared on a small balcony which just happened
to be directly in the airflow from the propellers spinning at 400 rpm. Foulois
reported that "when she opened up her tonsils with the hit song of the
day, "I’ve Got Rings on My Fingers," the blast from the props blew
most of the song down her throat and her dress up around her necklace."
Foulois arrived in Texas in February 1910 and commenced to erect a small
hanger and begin teaching himself to fly by trial and error. He received help
from Orville and Wilbur who answered his questions and provided instructions
through correspondence. On March 2, he made his first solo, reporting that "I
made my first solo, landing, takeoff and crash."
He only was allotted $150 for maintenance of the airplane, but the repairs
from his first four months of flying exceeded his appropriation so he had to
spend $300 of his own money for the repairs.
Foulois liked to say that he was the first correspondence-school pilot.
Wilbur was disturbed by the many accidents Foulois was having. He sent Frank
Coffyn, a member of the Wright Exhibition Team, down to Texas to find out what
the problem was.
Coffyn soon diagnosed the problem as "ground shyness." This
was the term used to describe a pilot that "landed" about
sixty feet above the earth, where he often stalled his airplane and fell to the
earth. It is one of the mental hazards of flying and by no means rare.
In 1914, Foulois became the first commander of a tactical air unit, the
"1st Aero Squadron." This was the army’s first air
force. Their first military action was to provide support to General’s
Pershing’s incursion into Mexico in pursuit of Pancho Villa.
Foulois would later become the first Chief of the U.S. Army Air Service, The
Chief of the Materiel Division at Wright Field in Dayton and Chief of the U.S.
Army Air Corps from 1931 to 1935 and rise to the rank of a major general.
 During
his tour at Wright Field in 1929-1930, he lived on a house built by my
great-great grandfather (Henry Hebble). The house is now known as the Foulois
House and is used as the base commander’s residence.
During this period at Wright Field, Orville Wright most likely visited him.
There is no record of this but there is a record that Orville visited Major
Henry "Hap" Arnold who lived in a house a short distance away during
the same time frame. Incidentally, the house that Arnold lived in as known as
the Arnold house. It is the oldest building on Wright-Patterson Air Force Base
and was also built by Henry Hebble.
Hebble also built a number of covered bridges in the vicinity
of Wright Field. Only two still exit. One is near Antioch College
(on the left), and the other is near Wilberforce College (on the
right).
 
One other anecdote about Foulois: It involved Babe Ruth in a publicity stunt
in 1925 and was covered by the press, radio and motion pictures. The idea was
to have Babe Ruth catch a baseball dropped by an airplane.
Foulois said, "I had a pilot, Captain Harold McClelland, go up with
three baseballs and bomb the "Babe" with them from 250 feet. The
first two balls knocked him flat, but he held onto the third one and gave it to
me as a souvenir."
Foulois was a forceful and outspoken advocate for a strong and separate air
force. In the process he alienated his military superiors and some members of
Congress. As a result he was forced into retirement in 1935. Shortly before
retirement he proudly admitted to General Douglas MacArthur, a friend and
baseball teammate years ago at Fort Leavenworth, that he had been using
unorthodox language against the War Department General Staff since 1908.
On Christmas day just before retirement he flew for the last time:
"I had a strange feeling as I looked down at a flattened place in the
dunes from the beach. There was the skeleton of an old shack there and I
suddenly knew where I was. I began to circle. Below me was Kill Devil Hill,
really only a mound of sand about 100 feet above the water level. Like a
pilgrim going to Mecca, I had been drawn inexorably to that small deserted spot
where aviation had been thirty-two years before. This is where it all began, I
said out loud to myself. This is where it all began."
Reference: "From the Wright Brothers to the Astronauts" by
Benjamin D. Foulois
Historic Article: Poetic Gifts of Paul
Lawrence Dunbar
The October 5, 1896 of the St. John, New Brunswick Daily Sun
contained a article titled, A Real Negro Poet; Surprising
Gifts of Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
This historic 1896 article is
reproduced below:
First, some background.
 Dunbar
and Orville Wright were classmates at Central High School in
Dayton, Ohio. They knew each other well. Paul helped Orville
with his writing and literature assignments and Orville helped
Paul with math and science.
Orville began a printing business while still in high school
and was the first to print Dunbar’s writings including
advertising flyers and tickets for poetry recitals. One was a
neighborhood newspaper edited by Dunbar named the Dayton
Tattler.
Dunbar’s book of poems, Majors and Minors, came to
the attention of William Dean Howells, a novelist and critic and
the dean of late 19th century American letters.
Howell’s praise of the book in the Harper’s Review launched
Dunbar into the big time among literary circles.
Dunbar often wrote and spoke about civil rights issues and
was friends with other famous black leaders including Frederick
Douglas, Booker T. Washington, W. E. B. DuBois.
Here is the 1896 article:
"At last an intellectual bridge has been cast across the
chasm dividing the black from the white race! At last, for the
first time in the history of this country - or so far as we are
aware, in the history of any other country – a man of pure
African blood has arisen to speak for his people in the person
of Mr. Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
For several years poems bearing this name have been appearing
in the leading magazines, but they bore on the surface no racial
mark, and the fact that some of them were in the Negro dialect
counted for nothing since many white writers have attempted
that, although with less success. It was not, therefore, until a
slender, quiet, shabby little volume of verse, dateless,
placeless and without a publisher, drifted out of the west and
accidentally reached Mr. Howells – who is always quick to see
and never reluctant to praise what is really good - that the
young African-American poet was introduced to the larger audience
which the importance of his work deserved.
Only then did it become generally known that the author was
black, that his parents were slaves who learned to read after
they were free, and that he himself had stood shoulder to
shoulder with the heaviest laden of his race. He was educated in
the public schools of his birthplace, Dayton, Ohio and was until
recently an elevator boy.
As these facts came out the significance of Mr. Dunbar’s
poetry stood revealed, and it was recognized not only for its
intrinsic worth, for its lyrical beauty and metrical quality,
which are quite enough to lift into prominence, but as the first
authoritative utterance of the inner life of a race which had
hitherto been dumb.
The little book thus voicing what had never been before
spoken was privately printed and called "Majors and
Minors," the Majors being in English, and the Minors in
dialect, sometimes the dialect of the Middle-South negroes and
sometimes of the Middle-South whites, and in the case of negro
dialect reproduced with a perfection that no white writer has
attained.
These poems, covering a wide range of thought and
feeling, have been gathered with a number of new poems into a
much larger volume soon to be published by Dodd, Mead & Co.
Mr. Howells has written an introduction to the new work
(Lyrics of a Lowly Life), and in it he says:
"What struck me in reading Mr. Dunbar’s poetry was
what had already struck his friends in Ohio and Indiana, in
Kentucky and Illinois. They had felt as I felt, that however
gifted his race had proven in music, in oratory, in several
other arts, here was the first instance of an American negro who
had evinced innate literature.
In my criticism of his book I had alleged Dumas in France,
and had forgotten to allege the far greater Pushkin in Russia;
but these were both mulattos, who might have been supposed to
derive their qualities from white blood vastly more artistic
than ours, and who were the creatures of an environment more
favorable to their literary development.
So far as I could remember, Paul Dunbar was the only man of
pure African blood and American civilization to feel the negro
life aesthetically and express it lyrically. It seemed to me
that this had come to its most modern consciousness in him, and
that his brilliant and unique achievement was to have studied
the American negro objectively, and to have represented him as
he found him to be, with humor, with sympathy, and yet with what
the reader must instinctively feel to be entire truthfulness.
I said a race which had come to this effect in any member of
it had attained civilization in him, and I permitted myself the
imaginative prophecy that the hostilities and the prejudices
which had so long constrained his race were destined to vanish
in the arts; that these were to be the final proof that God had
made of one blood all nations of men.
I thought his merits positive and not comparative; and I held
that if his black poems had been written by a white man I should
not have found them less admirable. I accepted them as an
evidence of the essential unity of the human race, which does
not think or feel black in one and white in another, but humanly
in all."
It is a curious fact that until the acceptance of his book
Dunbar had never earned any money by his literary work. After
high school he couldn't find work so he had to settle for the
position of elevator boy at the Callahan building in downtown
Dayton. He earned $4 per week. The few books he
wrote and which gave him a reputation were published at the
expense of himself and his friends, and brought him no immediate
profit.
His rise has been a hard struggle with discouraging
conditions. When the acceptance of his new book of poems was
announced it was accompanied by a sum of $400. This amount was
in the form of four crisp $100 bills of the new design. The poet
had never been the possessor of so much money in his life, and
its unexpected receipt sent him into a state of ecstasy. His
success, however, has not made any change for the worse in the
simple and unaffected youth, who until recently guided the
destinies of an elevator."
Dunbar developed pneumonia
and died at the young age of 34 on February 9, 1906. The City
Fathers of Dayton offered to bury Paul in Library Park
stipulating that he would be the only person interned there. His
mother, wanting to rest by her son, declined and he was buried
in Woodlawn Cemetery adjacent to his friends the Wright
Brothers."
The Paul Laurence Dunbar
House in Dayton has been designated one of 31 National
Poetry Landmarks by the Academy of American Poets.
Laverne Sci, director of
the Dunbar House State Memorial at 219 N. Paul Lawrence Dunbar
St., said the selection puts Dunbar "in some wonderful
company. I am delighted at recognition for him that is
both overdue and comes at a wonderful time." (Dayton
Daily News 08/05/2004)
Also see: Paul
Lawrence Dunbar: The Wright Brothers Friend
Charlie
Taylor Made Aviation History
 Charlie
Taylor was an indispensable third member of the Wright Brother's
team. It was he who built the custom gasoline engine that powered
the first flight at Kitty Hawk in 1903.
Charlie went to work for Wilbur and Orville on June 15, 1901.
It was the beginning of a long-term association between Charlie
and the brothers, both as an employee and a friend.
Charlie had dropped into the Wrights' bicycle shop one evening
for a visit. Wilbur asked him if he would like to work for them.
Charlie asked, "how much will you pay?" Wilbur replied,
"$18 a week." That was more than the 5 cents an hour
that Charlie was making at the Dayton Electric Company, so he
said he would take the job.
With the hiring of Charlie, Orville and Wilbur could now go
to Kitty Hawk before the end of the summer when the bicycle
business dropped off.
The hiring of Taylor was the recognition by the brothers that
they were serious about pursuing their "hobby" of
flying. They could now keep up their bicycle business and simultaneously
pursue their hobby.
Charlie was on the job for only three weeks when the brothers
took off for Kitty Hawk. They left Charlie in total charge of
the bicycle shop which included handling all the money. That
was a sure sign the brothers had complete trust in him. Their
trust was to be amply rewarded.
The brothers were pleased, but not Katharine, their sister.
She didn't like Charlie's smoking and frequent use of profanity.
Began Work on Flight
When the brothers returned from Kitty Hawk that year, they knew
that the published aerodynamic data on wing lift was in error
and that they would have to create their own. They put Charlie
to work building a wind tunnel for that purpose. This was the
first job Charlie was assigned that had anything to do with
airplanes.
The redesigned wings based on the data derived from the wind
tunnel experiments proved to be successful during the Wrights'
experiments at Kitty Hawk in 1902.
Now they needed an engine to power the aircraft. Failing to
find a company that would build the engine, the Wrights decided
to build one themselves. (One company did offer to build a one
cylinder engine that lacked power and was too heavy.)
Charlie started making the engine in
the winter of 1902 and finished it in six weeks following sketches
provided by the Wrights. He only had rudimentary equipment to
work with which consisted of a drill press, a lathe and hand
tools, but that wasn't an obstacle for Charlie.
The engine produced 12 horsepower, 4 horsepower more that the
target design. The additional horsepower enabled the Wrights
to strengthen the wings and framework of the Flyer.
The engine was relatively
simple. Fuel flows by gravity from a can into a reservoir in the
top of the crankcase, where it vaporizes and mixes with air
flowing into the cylinders. Instead of spark plugs, it has
igniters that close like switches when a cam turns, then spark
as they separate.
The crankcase was
contracted out and was made of Alcoa aluminum.
Building the engine was an amazing accomplishment for Charlie.
Although he had limited formal education and little experience
with engines, he had a natural aptitude for working with machines.
Charlie worked steadily for the Wrights for the next 10 years
as their chief mechanic. He was with them in Europe; with Wilbur
during his extraordinary flight circuiting the Statue of Liberty;
at Fort Myers for the Army trials and many other locations.
He could claim he was the first airport manager after managing
Huffman Field in Dayton where many of the brothers' flight experiments
were conducted.
The "Vin Fiz"
He left his job with the Wrights in 1911 to be the mechanic
for Calbraith Perry Rodgers, who planned to be the first to
fly an airplane, named the Vin Fiz, across the U.S. The airplane
was a Wright built machine and Charlie knew how to maintain
Wright airplanes.
Rodgers wouldn't have successfully accomplished his goal without
Taylor. Along the way the airplane crashed 16 times and was
repaired so many times by Charlie that little was left of the
original airplane by the time it arrived in California.
Continued Involvement with the Wrights
Charlie continued to work for the Wrights in their Dayton factory
and stayed with Orville after Orville sold the factory and retired
in 1915. Charlie helped Orville with his continuing experiments
and kept his automobile running.
In 1916 Charlie helped restore the original 1903 Flyer for public
display at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge.
This was the first public exhibition of the airplane and for
the first time Orville realized that the Flyer was a valuable
artifact that should be preserved.
Charlie left Orville's employment and moved to California in
1928 where he worked in a machine shop and invested in real
estate. The timing was bad. The Depression struck and Charlie
lost his investment and his job.
In 1937, Henry Ford hired Charlie to help restore the original
Wright bicycle shop and home. Ford was moving the buildings
from Dayton to his Greenfield Village museum at Dearborn, Michigan.
Charlie stayed with Ford until 1941 when he returned to California
and found work in a defense factory.
Tragedy and Redemption
In 1945, Charlie had a heart attack and never worked again.
He eventually ended up in a hospital charity ward.
An enterprising reporter found him there and published an article
describing his sorry status. As a result of the publicity, the
aviation industry quickly raised funds to move him to a private
sanitarium where he died at the age of 88 in 1956. He is buried
in a mausoleum dedicated to aviation pioneers in Los Angeles.
While Orville was alive (he died in 1948), Orville wrote Charlie
regularly, including every Dec. 17, commemorating the anniversary
of the first flight.
In his last note Orville wrote: "I hope you are well
and enjoying life: but that's hard to imagine when you haven't
much work to do." It was signed "Orv."
Bleriot
Trumps Orville
July 30, 1909 was an exciting
day for the Wrights. Orville completed the final army contract
requirement for selling their airplane to the U.S. War Department.
He flew the Wright Flyer in a speed trial to Alexandria, Va.
and then back to Ft. Myer at an average speed of 42.58 mph over
the 10-mile round trip.
It would have made headlines
around the world except that a Frenchman, Louis Bleriot, had
flown his airplane, the Bleriot XI, across the English Channel
five days earlier.
 In
1908, Lord Northcliff had offered a prize of $5,000 for the
first pilot who flew across the English Channel. Bleriot, an
avid aviator who was close to bankruptcy, decided to try for
it.
He pointed a finger toward
in the direction of Dover, England and took off from France
on a rainy morning of July 25, 1909. He had no compass. Crutches
were strapped to the side of the airplane because he had badly
burned his foot on his plane’s exhaust pipe on a previous flight.
He headed for a place along
the English coastline known as Northfall Meadow beside Dover
castle. The meadow was only 100 feet off the water and the only
site where he could safely land because the white cliffs were
too high for him to reach and the beach at Dover was too small
for a plane to land.
A French newspaper reporter
standing in the meadow would wave a flag to direct Bleriot to
the spot.
It was a calm day. It was
so calm he didn’t have to use wingwarping or the rudder to fly
a straight path. Events were going smoothly until he saw the
English coastline in the distance. Then a strong wind came up
and with it a mist that made it hard to see.
The wind was blowing him
off course to the North. Just as he appeared to be in trouble,
three ships came into view. He gambled and followed the ships,
hoping they were headed to Dover. He guessed right.
He then headed southward
along the famed white cliffs. Suddenly, he saw the flag being
waved in the meadow and headed for land.
By now the wind was blowing
harder, making a landing extremely difficult. He cut the engines
as he neared the ground and made a controlled crashed landing.
It broke the landing gear and damaged the propeller, but he
had made it! The flight lasted 37 minutes.
The Wrights had flown much
farther by that time, but flying the English Channel had the
crowd appeal that Lindbergh’s flight over the Atlantic would
have 18 years later. The French newspapers immortalized the
moment for the glory of France.
A crowd of over 100,000
welcomed Bleriot back to Paris as a national hero with a grand
parade. It was comparable to a reception for Napoleon
Bleriot was born in Cambrai,
France in 1872. He established a successful automobile accessories
business and then turned his interest to aviation around the
turn of the century.
He made a series of airplanes
with little success. His model XI first displayed in 1908 would
be a success. The monoplane weighed about 500 pounds and was
constructed of a frame consisting of ash and spruce covered
in Irish linen. The wing area was 150 square feet. It employed
an adaptation of the Wright Brothers wingwarping, the first
European machine to employ it effectively.
A 3-cylinder, 25-hp engine
built by an Italian named Alessandro Anzani powered the airplane.
The engine spewed out a cloud of castor-oil vapor oil that covered
everything including the pilot. It was crude but reliable.
Eventually, 132 of the airplanes
were built. Some of them were used by the French military in
the early years of WW1. A few of them still exist and can still
become airborne.
Friendship
Flies Into Stall
Octave Chanute
One of the most extraordinary relationships involving the Wright
Brothers is the one with Octave Chanute, 45 years Wilbur's senior.
It began when Wilbur wrote to Chanute introducing himself and
asking for information on aeronautics.
"For some years I have been inflicted with the belief that
flight is possible to man," Wilbur wrote on May 13. 1900.
It was the beginning of a ten-year close relationship between
Chanute and Wilbur. Their age difference was not apparent in some
400 hundred letters between the two.
Chanute, a well to do businessman, civil engineer and railroad
bridge builder, was well beyond middle age when he became interested
in aviation. He conducted flights with multi-wing gliders on the
shores of Lake Michigan in 1896 searching for a design that would
provide automatic stability.
His experiments convinced him that it was possible to develop
an inherently stable airplane; an unrealized hope that clouded
his understanding of how the Wrights' control system worked. This
would have consequences that adversely affected their future friendship.
Chanute corresponded with airplane experimenters all over the
world and was regarded as an expert on the history of aviation.
In 1894 he published, "Progress in Flying Machines," a compendium
of practically all significant aeronautical work up to that time.
It was considered the primary reference book for anyone interested
in flight.
The Wright Brothers became aware of the book after Wilbur's inquiry
to the Smithsonian Institution in May 1899.
Wilbur wrote, "I have been interested in the problem of mechanical
and human flight ever since as a boy I constructed a number of
bats of various sizes after the style of Cayley's and Penaud's
machines." Wilbur continued, "I am an enthusiast, but
not a crank in the sense that I have some pet theories as to the
proper construction of a flying machine. I wish to avail myself
of all that is already known and then if possible add my mite
to help on the future worker who will attain final success."
The brothers, particularly Wilbur, became good friends with Chanute,
even inviting him to visit their home in Dayton, and Kitty Hawk
during their flight experiments.
On one matter they didn't agree. Chanute believed that all advancements
in aeronautical science should be shared with other experimenters
around the world. The Wrights believed that their ideas and discoveries
should be kept secret until they were ready to reveal them.
This difference in philosophy, as well as some other issues, led
to conflict between them and eventually resulted in a serious
break in relations that was only partially healed before Chanute's
death.
The dispute began over an article about the Wrights' 1902 glider
experiments Chanute planned to publish in a French scientific
journal. At the time the Wrights had filed for a patent on their
breakthrough 3-axes control system that they had validated in
these experiments.
Wilbur was concerned about Chanute's persistent requests for detailed
information about how the control system worked and coldly responded:
"I can only see three methods of dealing with this matter.
(1) Tell the truth. (2) Tell nothing specific. (3) Tell something
not true. I really cannot advise either the first or the third
course."
Chanute responded:
"I was puzzled by the way you put things in your former letters.
You were sarcastic and I did not catch the idea that you feared
that the description might forestall a patent. Now that I know
it, I take pleasure in suppressing the passage altogether. I believe
that it would have proved quite harmless as the construction is
ancient and well known."
The last sentence was particularly troubling to the Wrights because
it was an indication that Chanute did not grasp the significance
of what the Wrights had accomplished nor appreciated their achievement.
Chanute didn't write the article but it didn't make much of a
difference because in January of 1903, he made a four-month trip
to Europe in which he told members of the aeronautical community
of the Wright's progress. This had a number of unfortunate effects
for the Wrights.
First it reinvigorated European, especially the French, interest
in manned flight in which many had lost interest.
Second, Chanute's lack of understanding of what the Wrights had
accomplished created confusion when copy cat efforts failed. This
undermined the Wrights' credibility.
Lastly, Chanute exaggerated his own role in the Wrights accomplishments
and misrepresented his relationship with the Wrights.
In a letter to Arnold Kruckman, Wilbur commented on the situation
with Chanute. "Mr. Chanute is one of the truest gentlemen we have
ever known and a sympathetic friend of all who have the cause
of human flight at heart. For many years we entrusted to him many
of our most important secrets, and only discontinued it when we
began to notice that his advancing years (78) made it difficult
for him to exercise the necessary discretion."
By the end of 1909, the relations between Chanute and the Wrights
took a decided turn for the worse. An interview with Chanute appeared
in the New York World that among other statements claimed that
the Wrights were not the first to use wing warping as a means
of flight control.
Wilbur took umbrage with this statement in a letter to Chanute
in January 1910. Wilbur pointed out that "This opinion is
quite different from that which you expressed in 1901 when you
became acquainted with our methods, I do not know whether it just
newspaper talk or whether it really represents your present views.
So far as we are aware the originality of this system of control
with us was universally conceded when our machine was first made
known ---."
Chanute quickly responded three days later, "I did tell you
in 1901 that the mechanism by which your surfaces were warped
was original with yourselves. This I adhere to, but it does not
follow that it covers the general principle of warping or twisting
wings, the proposal for doing this being ancient."
The basic problem was that Chanute did not grasp the basic principles
of wing warping and thought that the Wrights were just superb
mechanics.
Later in the same letter Chanute gives the Wrights a another jab
by saying, "I am afraid, my friend, that your usually sound
judgment has been warped by the desire for great wealth."
Six days later, the piqued Wilbur didn't mince any words.
"Until confirmed by you, your interview in the New York World
of January 17 seemed incredible. We had never had the slightest
ground for suspecting that when you repeatedly spoke to us in
1901 of the originality of our methods, you referred only to our
methods of driving tacks, fastening wires, etc., and not to the
novelty of our general systems.
As to inordinate desire for wealth, you are the only person
acquainted with us who has ever made such an accusation. We believed
that the physical and financial risks which we took, and the value
of the service to the world, justified compensation to enable
us to live modestly with enough surplus income to permit the devotion
of our future time to scientific experimenting instead of business.
You apparently concede to us no right to compensation for the
solution of a problem ages old except such as is granted to persons
who had no part in producing the invention. If holding a
different view constitutes us almost criminals, as some seem to
think, we are not ashamed."
Wilbur continued by addressing the complaint that the Wrights
had not given proper credit to Chanute for his help by summarizing
their personal contributions to manned flight.
"However, I several times said privately that we had taken
up the study of aeronautics long before we had any acquaintance
with you; that our ideas of control were radically different from
yours both before and throughout our acquaintance; that the systems
of control which we carried to success were absolutely our own,
and had not been embodied in a machine and tested before you knew
anything about them and before our first meeting with you; that
in 1900 and 1901 we used the tables and formulas found in books,
but finding the results did not agree with the calculations, we
made extensive laboratory experiments and prepared tables of our
own which we used exclusively in all our subsequent work; that
the solution of the screw-propeller problem was ours; that we
designed all of our machines from first to last, originated and
worked out the principles of control, constructed the machines,
and made all the tests at our own cost; that you built several
machines embodying your ideas in 1901 and 1902 which were tested
by Mr. Herring, but that we had never made a flight on any of
your machines, nor your men on any of ours, and that in the sense
in which the expression was used in France we had never been pupils
of yours, though we had been very close friends, had carried on
very voluminous correspondence, and discussed our work very freely
with you."
"I confess that I have found it most difficult to formulate
a precise statement of what you contributed to our success."
Chanute didn't immediately respond. Instead he wrote to George
Spratt, a mutual friend, telling him of the controversy. "I
am reluctant to engage in this, but I think I am entitled to some
consideration for such aid as I may have furnished."
Three months later after having not heard from Chanute, Wilbur
took steps to restore their friendship.
"I have no answer to my last letter and fear that the frankness
with which delicate subjects were treated may have blinded you
to the real spirit and purpose of the latter."
"My brother and I do not form many intimate friendships, and do
not lightly give them up."
"We prize too highly the friendship which meant so much to us
in the years of our early struggles to willingly see it worn away
by uncorrected misunderstandings, which might be corrected by
a frank discussion."
"It is our wish that anything which might cause bitterness should
be eradicated as soon as possible. If we discuss matters in this
spirit I believe all serious misunderstandings can be removed."
Chanute responded two weeks later on May 21.
"I am in bad health and threatened with nervous exhaustion,
had to go to New Orleans for a change in March, and am now to
sail for Europe on the 17th of this month.
Your letter of April 28th was gratifying, for I own that I felt
very much hurt by your letter of January 29th, which I thought
both unduly angry and unfair as well as unjust.
I have never given out the impression, either in writing or speech,
that you had taken up aeronautics at my instance or were, as you
put it, pupils of mine. I have always written and spoken of you
as original investigators and worthy of the highest praise. How
much I may have been of help, I do not know. I have never made
any claims in that respect, but I do confess that I sometimes
thought that you did not give me as much credit as I deserved."
"The difference of opinion between us, i.e., whether the warping
of the wings was in the nature of a discovery by yourselves, or
had already been proposed and experimented by others, will have
to be passed upon by others..."
"I hope, upon my return from Europe, that we will be able to resume
our former relations."
Chanute did not make the trip and there was no further contact
between the two of them. Six months later on November 23, 1910
Octave Chanute died at his home in Chicago.
Wilbur paid tribute to Chanute in The January 1911 edition of
Aeronautics.
"By the death of Mr. O. Chanute the world has lost one whose
labors had to an unusual degree influenced the course of human
progress. If he had not lived the entire history of progress in
flying would have been other than it has been, for he encouraged
not only the Wright brothers..."
"No one was too humble to receive a share of his time. In patience
and goodness of heart he has rarely been surpassed. Few men were
more universally respected and loved."
Thus, came to an end their unique friendship. One can not help
but experience some sadness to it all.
Reference: The Papers of Wilbur and Orville Wright edited by
Marvin W. McFarland.
Alexander
Graham Bell is No Friend of the Wright Brothers
Alexander Graham Bell, the famous scientist and inventor of
the telephone, was also interested in inventing a practical
airplane. In the process he gave few favors to the Wright Brothers.
Bell believed that the Wright Flyer was dangerous because of
the high speeds needed for take-off and maintaining lift during
flight. He believed that wing warping, the Wrights' system for
exercising lateral control, was dangerous because it required
flexible wings. Bell thought there was a better design solution.
Bell's Interest in Aeronautics
 Bell,
born in Scotland in 1847, exhibited a lifelong curiosity, which
drove him to investigate diverse problems ranging from aeronautics
to eugenics. His greatest interest was in helping the hearing
impaired. His mother was deaf, as was his wife, who had been
one of his deaf students. Helen Keller credited him for leading
her " from darkness into light, from isolation to friendship."
Throughout his life he listed his occupation as "teacher of
the deaf."
His invention of the telephone in 1876 was directly related
to his study of sound waves as it related to deafness. The "decibel,"
a standard measure of sound intensity was named after Bell.
At the age of 23 he moved to Ontario, Canada and later to Boston,
since that was a center of scientific activity.
He became obsessed with the wonder of flight and in 1898 began
studying equilibrium and stability by flying kites. He started
with simple box kites and expanded into several boxlike cells.
Looking for a strong, but lightweight structure, he began combining
and arranging triangles. This led him to build a pyramidal structure
with three triangular sides and a triangular base. The geometric
form created is known as a tetrahedral.
Bell patented the tetrahedral structure and its use became popular
in architecture. Bell, however was interested in using the structure
to build a kite-like airplane. He would find out later that
he was heading down a blind alley.
Bell Organizes a New Association
Bell was a prolific scientific thinker but he was not good with
tools. He needed help to build and fly his cherished tetrahedron.
So, he organized a group of young men interested in aviation
in 1907 and called it the Aerial Experimental Association (AEA).
Its purpose was to build a practical powered airplane.
The Wrights had solved the puzzle of flight in 1903 and had
already produced a practical plane in 1905. Bell did not think
the Wrights had the ultimate solution, and that he was on the
verge of a better answer. His tetrahedral cell structure would
be more stable than the Wright machine and add materially to
the knowledge of flight.
Among the AEA members was Glenn Curtiss, a famous motorcycle
racer, who was appointed director of experiments. Curtiss was
good at building gasoline engines and had built an engine that
had been used on an experimental airplane. It was Bell's hope
that a propeller-driven tetrahedral kite would provide automatic
stability at slow speeds. He believed that Curtiss could provide
the engine.
Another member of the AEA was Lieutenant Thomas F. Selfridge,
a recent graduate of West Point who was appointed secretary.
He came to Bell's attention after he had sought an interview
with Bell regarding his kite experiments. Bell was a friend
of President Theodore Roosevelt and used the President's influence
to have the Army Signal Corps assign him to the AEA for one
year.
The Army later assigned Selfridge to the committee reviewing
the performance of the Wright Airplane in accordance with the
Signal Corps performance contract. Orville was not pleased with
the Selfridge assignment because of Selfridge's association
with the AEA. Tragically, Selfridge became the first airplane
fatality when as a passenger riding with Orville, the airplane
crashed at Ft. Myer in 1908.
AEA Flying Experiments
Returning to the AEA activities, they built a large kite that
was named the Cygnet, meaning, "little swan" in French. It was
composed of over 3,000 tetrahedral cells. Lt. Selfridge was
the test pilot in the first test flight of the Cygnet as a glider
towed by a boat. Unfortunately, it crashed and was dragged to
pieces by the towline.
Bell made two more versions of the Cygnet, but neither one was
successful. In 1912 his Cygnet III with a 70-horsepower motor
was reported to have flown one foot.
In the meantime Curtiss and other members of the AEA were more
interested in producing more conventional aircraft. They designed
a series of airplanes with the stylish names of Red Wing, White
Wing, June Bug and Silver Dart.
The "June Bug" won the Scientific American Trophy in an exhibition
on July 4, 1908. Curtiss flew 5,360 feet in just under 2 minutes.
The flight made the newspaper headlines.
Bell increasingly became more of a figurehead for the organization.
His one significant contribution to flying machines was the
fundamental concept of the modern aileron. Casey Baldwin, an
AEA member designed it following Bell's instructions. Bell never
did like the Wrights' wing warping mechanism and he thought
the new design would get around the Wrights' patent on wing
warping. The aileron was first used on the White Wing.
The Wrights Protest
Orville wrote Curtiss that the June Bug contained key elements
covered by the Wright patent and that permission had not been
given to use their patented features in a machine used in exhibitions
or for commercial purposes.
Curtiss answered that he was not intending to enter the exhibition
business and that the matter of patents had been referred to
the AEA. Despite his declaration, he ignored the Wrights and
entered the exhibition business.
Subsequently, Curtiss challenged the patent in court and lost.
In 1914, The U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that the Wrights'
patent covered the concept of ailerons.
Curtiss, still searching for a way to avoid the patent, participated
in a new approach to undermine the patent. He and others believed
that if it could be shown that Langley's unsuccessful Aerodrome
could have flown in 1903, it would undermine the Wright claims.
Dr. Samuel P. Langley, the former Director and Secretary of
the Smithsonian Institution designed the Aerodrome and was a
good friend of Bell. The Aerodrome crashed into the Potomac
on its two attempts to fly. The last attempt to fly occurred
a mere nine days before the Wrights' successful first flight
on December 17, 1903 at Kitty Hawk.
Reconstruction of the Failed Aerodrome
Bell, a member of the Board of the Smithsonian and a strong
supporter of Langley who had died in 1906, proposed that a medal
be established in Langley's honor and awarded annually to an
aviation pioneer. He suggested that the Wright Brothers be the
fist medal winners. Both proposals were accepted and the first
award ceremony was held on February 10, 1910.
The Wrights graciously accepted the award, but unfortunately
the event created difficulties for them. In making the principle
address at the ceremony, Bell seemed to place more emphasis
on honoring Langley than on the Wrights.
He made a point to honor Langley by referring to his airplane,
the Aerodrome, "as a perfectly good flying machine." "It was
simply never launched into the air, and so has never been given
the opportunity to show what it could do."
The aggrandizing of Langley continued after the ceremony. The
report of the event in the Smithsonian Annual Report stated
that the Wrights credited Langley with a critical role in their
own success. This false statement subsequently was used by opponents
of the Wrights to undermine their standing as the true inventors
of the airplane.
On March 30, 1914 Bell hosted a meeting at his Washington home
of those interested in rebuilding Langley's Aerodrome. It was
hoped that, if successful, this would restore Langley's tarnished
reputation and undermine the Wright patent claims. Among those
attending that meeting were Curtiss and the current Secretary
of the Smithsonian, Dr. Charles D. Walcott. The group gave Curtiss
$2,000 of Smithsonian funds to reconstruct and test the Langley
Aerodrome.
The reconstructed Aerodrome briefly flew, although hopped may
be a better description. Curtiss and the Smithsonian claimed
that this proved that the original Aerodrome could have flown
before the Wrights' success in 1903. Ultimately, the claim was
rejected, but not until the Smithsonian admitted almost 30 years
later that they had covered up the fact that the Aerodrome flown
by Curtiss had been redesigned from the original.
Unauthorized Examination of the Flyer
One other episode involved Bell. Bell and two other members
of the AEA tried to visit Orville in the hospital after Orville's
brush with death after his crash at Ft. Myer in 1908. Orville's
Doctor denied them admission. Leaving the hospital, they visited
the barn where the wrecked Flyer had been crated for return
to Dayton. The box had yet to be nailed shut because some of
the parts had been taken to Orville for his examination. Bell,
who was not authorized to visit the barn, was observed to pull
a tape measure from his pocket and make at least one measurement.
To say the least, Orville was disturbed about the incident.
Alexander Graham Bell won the honor to be elected to the National
Academy of Sciences and contributed five papers to the academy's
proceedings, but none were about aviation. While he was one
of America's famous scientists he did not have the mathematical
sophistication to do more theoretical work. He made no further
contribution to aviation.
The AEA lasted until 1909. By that time, Selfridge had died
and Curtiss had left to form his own company. In a solemn ceremony
at Bell's summer mansion in Nova Scotia, the remaining members
voted to dissolve the association at the stroke of midnight,
March 31.
The
Wright Brothers Plus One; The Influence of Their Sister
On a coastal sand dune at Kitty Hawk, NC on December 17, 1903
two brothers realized mankind's dream to fly. Not as well known
is the part their sister, Katharine, played in their success.
Man Will Never Fly
Two years earlier in 1901,
the prospect of success had not seemed so sure. After Wilbur
and Orville's glider experiments at Kitty Hawk, they returned
thoroughly discouraged. Their glider didn't fly as their calculations
on wing lift had predicted. A frustrated Wilbur proclaimed,
"Man won't be flying for a thousand years."
Shortly after returning home to Dayton, Wilbur received a letter
from Octave Chanute, the President of the Western Engineering
Society, inviting him to speak at their upcoming meeting of
the society. Wilbur knew Chanute and had had previous discussions
with him about the problems of flight.
Speech Leads to Further Research
 A
discouraged Wilbur intended to refuse the invitation after the
poor results at Kitty Hawk. But Katharine intervened and talked
him into accepting the invitation. She thought it was a great
opportunity to expose the relatively unknown Wilbur to the aeronautical
community. She even helped Wilbur prepare for the speech.
She made sure that Wilbur's appearance would make a good impression.
She substituted Wilbur's baggy suit with one of Orville's. Orville,
unlike Wilbur, had a reputation as a sharp dresser.
The speech was well received and served to bring Wilbur out
of his funk. Reenergized, Wilbur and Orville decided to find
out why the glider didn't behave as predicted by published engineering
data. This led them to design and build a wind tunnel in which
they tested some 200 wing configurations. Their test results
enabled them to correctly calculate lift and drag, leading to
the design of an efficient wing. All of this
was made possible because of Katharine's intervention.
Success in Europe
 Later, after their success
at Kitty Hawk, Katharine was a great help to her brothers during
their three trips to Europe where they were conducting demonstration
flights. Katharine was hesitant about going at first because
she would lose her teaching job if she went. Wilbur kept after
her and even promised to pay her teaching salary of $6.00 per
day. Besides,
she had never been to Europe and it would be fun to go.
She served as a gracious hostess to
dukes, counts and kings.
Among the royalty were King Alfonso XIII of Spain, King Edward VII
of England, King Victor XX of Italy and Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm of Germany.
She wrote to her father
from Italy, "We have to bounce out early tomorrow morning
and take the seven o'clock car to the country. The king is to
come at eight o'clock. The kings are a nuisance. They always
come at such unearthly hours."
King Alfonso wanted Wilbur
to take him up for a flight, but the king's mother wouldn't give
him permission.
She was the first women to
attend a monthly banquet of the Aero-Club de France as the
members raised their glasses of champagne to toast the Wright
name.
The brothers were by nature, shy, quiet and reserved. They didn't
like crowds. She told them how to behave and what they should
wear. Unlike her brothers, Katharine was not only outgoing,
but also poised and charming. King Alfonso pronounced her the "ideal American."
Crowds in Paris followed her everywhere she went while shopping
in Paris and she became famous for her stylish hats with long
plumes. She even flew twice as a passenger with Wilbur wearing
a fancy dress, the second time in front of King Edward. In so
doing, she became one of the first women to fly in an airplane.
Katharine even took French
lessons. In the southwestern city of Pau she engaged a French tutor
for two hours each morning. Soon she was fluent enough to speak
the language with French dignitaries.
She became as well known
as her brothers in Europe. All three of them were awarded the
French Legion of Honor.
Wright Family's Close Bond
There were five children
in the Wright family. Katharine was the youngest and the only
girl. She was born on the same day as Orville, August 19. Orville
was three years older and Wilbur, seven years older. The three
of them grew up together while their two older brothers married
and struck out on their own.
When Katharine was six, Wilbur and Orville began to include her in
their activities. She helped them earn money for their hobbies
by collecting bones to sell to a fertilizer plant and scrap
iron to sell to a junkyard. Later in life, she was alleged to
have provided financial help for her brother's aeronautical
activities, but this was false. The brothers paid all of their
expenses themselves form their bicycle business earnings of some
$3,000 per year.
Their father, Milton, a Bishop in
the United Brethren Church, was gone most of the time traveling
on church business. Left to themselves, his three children developed
ties of loyalty, respect and affection.
Their bond grew stronger after their mother developed tuberculosis
and died when Katharine was only fifteen. Her father, recognizing
her remarkable maturity, began to share family leadership with
her and placed her in charge of running the household, which
included paying the bills.
In 1914, she helped
organize a march through Dayton in support of women's suffrage.
The march drew 1,300 to the city's streets, including Orville
and her father, Milton.
When her father died in 1917, he left the original house they
lived in on Hawthorn Street in Dayton to Katharine. By that
time, the family was living in the white brick mansion called
Hawthorn Hill in Oakwood. It had been Katharine's idea to build
the house on 17 acres in Oakwood, a city adjacent to Dayton.
Milton encouraged Katharine to go to college as her mother had
done, as he was a strong believer that women should have intellectual
growth. She matriculated to Oberlin College in Ohio, a center
for woman's rights. She graduated in 1898 with a degree in
classics.
Orville, who was particularly close to his sister, gave her
a diamond ring as a graduation gift. She wore the ring on her
trip to Paris.
Katharine returned to Dayton and taught Latin at
Steele high school, the same school that my mother later attended.
She also wanted to teach Greek but never got the chance. Some writers have written that she also taught English and
history but that has not been substantiated. She had a reputation as being an excellent teacher and a disciplinarian
in the classroom.
Katharine was a member of
an organization of teachers that met monthly to read plays.
The club, Helen Hunt Club, was the second oldest women's club
in Dayton. They didn't have much in way of costumes and
stage settings, but they were a powerful influence for drama
among women of the city.
She maintained close ties with Oberlin and was later elected
to their board of trustees, the second woman to have the
honor. When Orville died, he honored his
sister by designating in his will $300,000 to Oberlin. The
money was worth millions in today's dollars.
Oberlin used the money for
the Wright Laboratory of Physics which still stands today.
She attended football games with Orville at Oberlin as well
as the University of Cincinnati and Ohio State University. She
wasn't a strong sports fan but went along to provide Orville
company. Orville delegated the task of obtaining the tickets
for the games to Katharine.
Katharine Nurses Brothers
She continued teaching until
Orville's near fatal airplane crash during Army trials at Fort
Myer, Va. in 1908 that killed his passenger, Lt. Thomas Selfridge.
She rushed to the hospital at Fort Myer to care for Orville
and never returned to teaching. Wilbur encouraged her to work
with them saying that she could make more money than returning
to teaching.
Katharine had acquired plenty of experience taking care of the brothers
when they were sick. She cared for Wilbur when at 17, he had
eight teeth knocked out playing hockey and subsequently developed
a severe infection that persisted for months. She and Wilbur
took care of Orville when at 25, he developed typhoid fever from
contaminated well water and was unconscious for nearly two weeks.
She took care of Wilbur for the last time when he developed
typhoid fever and died in 1912 at the age of 45.
Since Wilbur was in Europe at the time of Orville's crash, Katharine
represented the family at Selfridge's funeral and then signed her brother's request to the Signal Corps for a nine month
extension in the flying machine acceptance tests to give Orville
time to recover from his injuries.
When Orville returned home
from the office he was so frail that Katharine had to help him
go everywhere. Orville visited his shop twice a day to see
Charlie Taylor. Orville on crutches needed help from his sister
to make the trip.
He couldn't stay long
because it was too cold and he couldn't stand cold. The house
was kept very warm - too warm for Katharine's comfort - it was
her duty to massage Orville's legs every evening. She wrote his
letters and took care of all other household duties. When Wilbur
invited Orville and Katharine to visit him in Europe, it
was a break she needed. There she led the grand life and enjoyed
every minute of it.
Later, when the Wright Company
was formed in 1909 to manufacture airplanes, Katharine became an
officer in the company and was
secretary of the executive committee.
Katharine was active in
the suffrage movement. Her father, the Bishop, and Orville
supported her in her fight. On Saturday, October 24, 1914, they
both marched along side her and 1,300 others through
downtown Dayton. The sidewalks were full of thousands of
spectators.
Katharine Marries
The brothers never married.
After their father's death, both Katharine and Orville continued
to live at Hawthorn Hill until 1926. Then Katharine,
at age 52, fell in love and married Henry Haskell, who had
been a fellow student and trustee
at Oberlin. He was then a widower and the editor of the Kansas City Star.
At Oberlin he had been her
tutor in math. Some writers have written that she had helped her
brothers in making calculations on their machines. This was not
true because mathematics was never her strong skill.
This was not Katharine's first
romance. She had been engaged in college but never married. Upon
graduating from college she began her teaching career and in
those days teachers were prohibited from marrying.
She was engaged for a year before telling Orville that she
intended to marry because
she had a premonition he would be upset. She was right. Orville
was so upset by the marriage; he refused to speak to her and
remained estranged from her until she was on her deathbed.
He had even refused to attend her
wedding that was held at the home of classmates living in
Oberlin. The president of Oberlin College was one of those in attendance.
After the wedding the couple moved to Kansas City.
She wrote to a friend in
1929, "I will not stay longer than my business keeps me
since I can't go home to Dayton. In my imagination I walk
through our Dayton home, looking for Little Brother and all the
dear family things that made my home. But I never find Little
Brother, and I have lost my old home forever, I
fear."
Orville's behavior is hard to understand.
He had become excessively dependent on her and may have come to believe that
she had broken a sacred trust between them.
Wilbur had once written to
his father about a quirk in Orville's personality. He never said what it was.
Maybe this was a manifestation of it.
Tragically, Katharine died almost three years
after her marriage at the age of 54. She had caught a cold
that turned into pneumonia. Orville arrived a day before her
death and was
at her bedside when
she died. He brought her back to Dayton and buried her in the
family cemetery lot in Woodlawn Cemetery near the University
of Dayton. During her funeral, airplanes from Wright-Patterson
Air Force Base dropped flowers on her grave.
Two years after her death,
Harry Haskell built a fountain in her memory at Oberlin
College. He commissioned a bronze figure by Andrea del
Verrachino of a small boy angel playing with a dolphin. The
angel is lifted into the air by his wings.
Orville attended the
dedication of the statue along with Haskell.
Each year the National Aeronautic Association awards the Katharine
Wright Trophy to the woman who is most supportive of someone's
efforts in aviation.
Paul
Laurence Dunbar: The Wright Brothers Friend
Schoolmates
 The
1890 Dayton, Ohio Central High School class was a most unusual
class. Among its 28 members were two world-class prodigies who
were destined to become world famous. One was Orville Wright,
who with his brother, Wilbur, invented the airplane. The other
was Paul Laurence Dunbar who became the first African-American
to gain national eminence as a poet and the founder of African-American
popular literature.
Orville and Paul knew each other well while they were in school.
Paul, talented in writing and literature, would help Orville
with his school assignments in those
subjects, and in return, Orville would help Paul with math and
science.
The accompanying photograph shows the Dayton Central High School
class of 1890. Paul Laurence Dunbar is on the left in the back
row. Orville Wright is the third person to his left.
Orville began a printing business while still in high school
and was the first to print Dunbar's writings including advertising
flyers and tickets for poetry recitals. One was a neighborhood
newspaper edited by Paul named the Dayton Tattler. Once Dunbar
wrote on the wall of the Wrights' print shop some humorous graffiti:
"Orville
Wright is out of sight
In the printing business.
No other mind is half so bright
As his'n is."
Later, when Orville and Wilbur were in the business of manufacturing
bicycles, they gave one to Paul. It can be viewed today in the
Dunbar House.
Orville never received his high school diploma because he dropped
out of school before his senior year to work full time on his
printing and newspaper business. Paul did graduate with a distinguished
record, although he had trouble with trigonometry and had to
retake the course delaying his graduation. He was a member of the debating society, editor of the
school newspaper, president of the school's literary society
and also wrote the lyrics to the class song.
Dunbar's Career
Paul obtained fame and fortune before the Wrights, but his future
didn't look very bright after graduation. As with most unknown
artists, he couldn't make a living writing poetry, and he couldn't
find a good job befitting his education, because he was black.
Undaunted, he found a job as an elevator operator in a downtown
Dayton office building and turned it into an opportunity. He
sold his first book of poetry, Oak and Ivy, at the age of 20
for one dollar each to passengers he met on the elevator.
Dunbar asked
Orville to publish the book, but Orville's printing shop lacked
the equipment to bind books. Orville recommended he use the
United Brethren publishing house in downtown Dayton. Orville's
father, Milton
Wright, was a bishop in the United Brethren church and in charge
of the publishing operation.
There is some
dispute over how many of the books were published but the
estimate ranges from 300 to 500 books. It is estimated that
around 200 of these books still exist. In March 2006 one of the
books appeared on Ebay with a starting bid of $2,000. The book
is estimated to be worth $5,000-$6,000.
Gradually Dunbar's reputation spread. His first break came when he
was invited to recite his poems at the 1893 Worlds Fair. There,
he met Frederick Douglas, the famous abolitionist, who was impressed
with the young poet and gave him a job.
His second break came from attorney Charles Thatcher and psychiatrist
Henry Tobey, who enjoyed his poems and arranged for recitations
at literary meetings and funded the publication of Dunbar's
second book of poems, Majors and Minors.
This book came to the attention of William Dean Howells, a novelist
and critic and the dean of late 19th-century American letters
who was also a friend and advisor to Mark Twain. Howells' praise
of Dunbar's second book in the Harper's Review launched Dunbar
into the big time among literary circles.
The two books of poems were subsequently combined into one book
named Lyrics of a Lowly Life with an introduction by Howells
and became a best seller. With Dunbar's national fame now established,
he traveled to London in 1897 to recite his poems. The youngster,
born June 27, 1872 in a house on Howard St. in East Dayton, wrote his first poem when he was only six years old, and
recited publicly at age nine, was now an international celebrity.
After returning from London, he married Alice Ruth Moore, herself
a writer and also a teacher and proponent of racial and gender
equity. Paul settled down into a job at the Library of Congress
in Washington, D.C.
Tragedy Strikes
Then tragedy struck. He developed tuberculosis. His marriage
dissolved, and declining health lead him to dependence on alcohol
and depression.
He returned to Dayton in 1904, a year after the Wright Brothers
famous first flight, and bought a home for his mother that is
now the Dunbar House Museum. He new he was going to die soon. She took care of him while he continued
to write until his premature death in 1906 at the age of 34.
His mother, Matilda, who had been born into slavery, lived on
to her 95th birthday. She had a great influence on his life.
It was she who urged him to educate himself and encouraged his
talent.
During his short lifetime, Dunbar wrote 600 poems, 12 books
of poetry, 5 novels, 4 volumes of short stories, essays, hundreds
of newspaper articles and lyrics for musicals. His "Tuskegee
Song" was adopted as the alma mater at the school founded
by his friend Booker T. Washington.
Dunbar's
mother and father, Joshua and Matilda, had been slaves in
Kentucky. Joshua escaped and served as a Sergeant with the 55th
Massachusetts Infantry Regiment and 5th Massachusetts Colored Cavalry
Regiment during the civil war. He and Matilda separated in 1874
when Paul was twelve.
University of Dayton poet, Herbert Martin,
says that Dunbar's use of Negro dialect spoken in slave days in some of his
poems was controversial to some of his modern readers who
believe the use of dialect as a detriment and possibly demeaning to
blacks. Martin believes that anyone who cringes at
Dunbar's use of dialect must have second thoughts abut listening
to rap or vernacular speech. Martin believes "Dunbar sees the humanity,
not a stereotype. His ear was marvelously accurate."
He wrote about the joys and sorrows of life, especially the
difficulties experienced by African-Americans. Here is an example
from his poem, "We Wear the Mask."
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream other-wise,
We wear the mask!
Orville's Dayton Friends
Orville Wright (middle left in the picture) had two influential
friends in Dayton that helped shape his future as well as the
future of aviation.
His friends, Edward A. Deeds (far left in picture) and Charles
F. Kettering (far right in picture), had ties to the National
Cash Register Company now known simply as the NCR Corporation.
The NCR was a dominant presence in Dayton in the early 1900s.
Deeds and Kettering were two of its most influential people,
having prospered under the guidance of John H. Patterson the
founder of the company.
The men left the NCR in 1914 to form their own company, known
as the Dayton Engineering Laboratory Company (Delco), to produce
the first self-starter for automobiles, an invention they worked
on part-time in Deed's barn behind his house.
Original Wright Company Leaves Dayton
Orville sold the original Wright Company in 1915, three years
after Wilbur's death. The Wright Company merged into the Wright-Martin
Company and moved to New Jersey in 1917.
New Company Is Formed
That same year a new airplane company was formed in Dayton.
Deeds and Kettering started the Dayton-Wright Airplane Company
in 1917. They didn't know much about airplanes but they brought
in their friend Orville Wright as a consulting engineer to help
them.
The timing of the formation of the company was fortuitous as
World War I came along shortly after its formation. The new
company was awarded hefty contracts to produce 4,000 British
De Havilland warplanes and 400 trainers for the war effort.
It didn't hurt that Deeds was commissioned a Colonel and appointed
head of aircraft procurement of the U.S. Aircraft Production
Board.
Orville was commissioned a major in the Aviation Section of
the Signal Officer Reserve Corps and ordered to remain in Dayton
to advise the engineers at Dayton-Wright.
One of the more interesting projects that Kettering and Orville
worked on was a pilotless airplane called the "Bug"
designed to deliver a 180-pound bomb. It was a predecessor of
the German World War II buzz bomb. Fifty "Bugs" were
delivered but never were used before the war ended.
On one occasion, the pilotless plane went out of control setting
off a chase by 100 men in automobiles. The plane came down 21
miles from Dayton. When the chase party arrived, puzzled people
at the site were searching for nonexistent the pilot.
By the end of war, Kettering had become an avid flyer. One of
the first pilots trained by the Wrights taught Kettering how
to fly.
As a flyer, Kettering provided two pieces of advice for novice
pilots. First, he advised, "never to fly on days when the
birds aren't flying, as they have more experience in the matter."
Second, if you are lost in a fog bank, "throw out a monkey
wrench. If it goes up, you are flying upside down."
Establishment OF Wright-Patterson Air Force Base
Deeds, Kettering and Orville were involved in establishing what
is today known as Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. In 1916,
Deeds and Kettering purchased land just north of downtown Dayton
along the Great Miami River. There, they hoped with Orville's
help, to establish a flying field for training civilian pilots.
They barely started clearing the field when the war came along.
Deeds sold his interest to the land to Kettering after Deeds
was commissioned a colonel and went to Washington.
Kettering in turn leased the land to the government and the
government established the first military aviation research
center, named McCook Field. It became known as the "Cradle
of Aviation. Among other things the first free fall parachute
was developed there as well as aerial photography.
In the early 1920s, the government threatened to move out of
Dayton because McCook field was becoming too small and could
not be expanded. Here again Deeds became involved and a committee
was established to raise money to build a new airfield in another
location around Dayton. Orville was consulted and the committee
recommended a location east of town not far from Orville's old
flying field at Huffman Prairie. The committee raised $400,000
and purchased 5,000 acres of land, which it presented to the
government for the token price of $2.00. The land became Wright
Field, named for both Wilbur and Orville, and was dedicated
in 1927.
Historical Parks Established
Deeds headed the committees that established two historical
parks around Dayton - The Wright Brothers Memorial and Carillon
Historical Park.
The Wright Brothers Memorial is located on a hill near Wright-Patterson
Air Force Base overlooking Huffman Prairie, the Wrights' flying
field in Dayton after their success at Kitty Hawk. The memorial
is made of marble quarried near Kitty Hawk, NC. It was dedicated
on the anniversary of Orville's 69th birthday on August 19,
1940.
Carillon Historical Park was established in 1942 as a gift of
Deeds. The park's prized possession is the restored 1905 Wright
Flyer. It was this Flyer that the Wrights characterized as their
first practical airplane. Orville provided guidance during the
restoration.
Orville Dies Of A Heart Attack
The restored Flyer was dedicated in June 1950. Tragically, Orville
didn't live to see it. He had his first of two heart attacks
on October 10, 1947, as he was running up the steps of the main
NCR building to keep an appointment for a luncheon with Deeds. He was hurrying
because he was uncharacteristically late.
On January 27, 1948, he had spent the morning going up and down
steps fixing the door bell at his home, Hawthorn Hill. He had
his second heart attack shortly after his arrival at his laboratory
in downtown Dayton. He died in his sleep three days later in
the hospital at the age of seventy-seven.
1903 Flyer Returned to America
Orville's death created a temporary roadblock to transferring
the 1903 Flyer back from Britain to America. In 1925 Orville
had sent the Flyer to be displayed in the London Science Museum
after the Smithsonian Institution refused to support the claim
that the Flyer was the first powered airplane.
Orville had inserted in his will the stipulation that the Flyer
should remain in London after his death unless he amended the
will with a subsequent letter from him indicating a change of
heart.
It was known at the time of his death that the Smithsonian had
recanted and Orville had agreed to the return of the Flyer.
But, Orville's letter authorizing the transfer could not be
found. It was suspected that the letter was in Orville's files
in the possession of Mabel Beck, Orville's long time, protective
secretary. The problem was that she wouldn't let anyone examine
the files.
Deeds became involved to resolve the roadblock. He invited Ms.
Beck to his office at the NCR. When Deeds found out that she
knew where the letter was in Orville's office, he sent her in
a company car to get it.
The epochal 1903 Flyer became a permanent exhibit at the Smithsonian
eleven months after Orville's death in an elaborate ceremony
attended by 850 people on December 17, 1948. The occasion marked
the forty-fifth anniversary of the plane's famous flight.
Friendly Endeavors
The threesome of Deeds, Kettering and Orville were involved
in many other activities together. Deeds and Kettering formed
the Dayton Engineers Club in 1914, a club of the influential
men in Dayton. At its dedication, Orville was second vice-president.
Later he became president.
They established a new experimental school advocating the nascent
progressive education philosophy. Deeds and Kettering both had
sons enrolled in the school as was Orville's nephew Horace.
Kettering provided the school building, renovating a used greenhouse
he owned. Orville was on the board of directors.
The three men often had dinner together along with other friends.
One night after dinner, one of the attendees wondered whether
it was a good idea to lie down after a heavy meal. It was pointed
out that it was not a good thing because blood circulation slows
down after a nap. Orville who had said nothing up to that point
then remarked, "If what you fellows say is true, there
must be a lot of sick dogs in this world."
Edward A. Deeds
Deeds was hired at NCR in 1899 as a young electrical engineer
for $30 per week. He had been there for a few days when he told
the plant superintendent that there was a loose brick near the
top of the company chimney. The superintendent ignored him,
so a Sunday, Deeds put on gloves and a wet sponge on his nose
and with a camera climbed to the top of the chimney and took
a picture of the loose brick.
John H. Patterson, the brilliant and often eccentric founder
of NCR, admired his "pluck." "Pluck" marked
Deeds as a rising star in the company and eventually resulted
in his becoming chief executive officer and chairman of the
board. He died in 1960 at the age of 86.
Charles F. Kettering
John H. Patterson wanted someone to
electrify the cash register so that it wasn’t necessary to
turn a crank when ringing up a sale. His engineers said it
couldn’t be done. A motor small enough to fit inside the
register would burn out in a short time.
Kettering, 28, was Ohio State University’s outstanding
engineering graduate in 1904 even though he was partially blind.
Patterson hired him for $50 per week to do the job, which he
did.
He was successful because he realized that a small electric
motor was capable of a strong, brief burst of power. It did not
need to run continuously.
The first electrified machine was installed at the M.J.
Schwab cigar store near Third and Main Streets in downtown
Dayton.
A few years he used the same basic idea of the electric motor
in the cash register to invent the automobile self-starter, his
most famous invention.
Kettering had more than 300 inventions besides the electric
cash register and the self-starter during his lifetime. They
included the automotive electric ignition system, four-wheel
brakes, safety glass and Ethyl gasoline.
He always preached looking ahead. "The only thing
certain is change. The past should be a guidepost, not a
hitching post." Kettering died in 1958 at the age of
82.
Personal aside: In high school, I played baseball every
summer on diamonds laid out on the old McCook Flying field, now
called Kettering Field. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, I
worked at Delco, the company that Deeds and Kettering had
originated.
Augustus
Herring, No Friend of the Wrights
The Wright Brothers were quintessential practitioners of ethical
behavior. That is more than can be said about some others involved
in the nascent airplane industry. Augustus M. Herring is one
such unsavory character who popped in and out of the Wright
Brothers' life.
Herring was an unpleasant man with a big ego who fancied himself
as a great inventor in the field of aviation. His boasts were
often designed to deceive others.
 Herring
was born in Georgia in 1865. He matriculated to Steven Institute
of Technology in Hoboken, New Jersey, to study Mechanical Engineering
but never graduated. Herring told people that he didn't graduate
because the faculty thought his thesis on flight was "fanciful."
In truth he failed to complete the thesis he was writing on
the subject of a marine steam engine, not flight.
Orville and Wilbur Wright first met Herring in 1902 during their
glider experiments at Kitty Hawk. The Wrights were there to
test their new glider that they had designed using the data
from their recent wind tunnel experiments.
Octave Chanute, a aeronautical enthusiast and friend of the
Wrights, was also there to test two of his gliders. Chanute
brought Herring with him to assemble and fly the gliders.
Octave Chanute
Octave Chanute was a retired consulting engineer for a number
of railroads, a construction engineer and one of the foremost
American authorities on flying. Wilbur had written him on May
13, 1900, asking his advice on a suitable location for conducting
glider experiments. That correspondence triggered a lively lifelong
dialog.
Chanute respected the Wrights technical advances in flying and
wanted them to observe two gliders of different designs that
he hoped would attain automatic stability in flight. The Wrights
humored Chanute, believing a better approach was to use human
control as they were doing.
The Wrights were leery of Herring coming to Kitty Hawk because
they didn't want to reveal the results of their research to
strangers, but acquiesced to Chanute's request. It turned out
that neither of the gliders brought to Kitty Hawk by Chanute
successfully flew.
Herring is Bungler
After Herring left the Wright camp, he went directly to Washington
where he tried to get a job with Samuel Langley, Secretary of
the Smithsonian, who was working on his own "aerodrome." He
didn't get to see Langley, but left him a letter suggesting
that he had knowledge of the Wrights' progress. Chanute subsequently
advised Langley that Herring was a "bungler" and he was not
hired.
Herring's Rascality
The next time Herring entered the lives of the Wrights was after
the Wrights filed for their patent in 1903. Herring wrote them
and claimed that he held a prior patent on a machine similar
to theirs. He offered to form a joint company to market the
Wright Flyer on the basis of 1/3 interest for him and 2/3 interest
for them. The Wrights ignored what they termed as Herring's
"rascality."
Wilbur wrote to Chanute, "A copy is also enclosed of a letter
received a few days ago from Mr. Herring. This time he surprised
us. ---- But that he would have the effrontery to write us such
a letter, after his other schemes of rascality had failed was
really a little more than we expected. We shall make no answer
at all."
Herring Wins Army Bid
In 1908 Herring showed up again. The Army Signal Corps had advertised
for bids for a "Heavier-Than-air Flying Machine." The specification
had been tailored closely to the Wright machine.
To everyone's surprise, the low bidder turned out to be Herring
with a bid of $20,000. Herring's plan was to obtain the award
of the contract and then subcontract the building of the machine
to the Wrights. His plan was foiled when the Army decided to
accept both Herring's and the Wrights' bid.
Herring, in an attempt to save face, said he would provide an
airplane and fly it to Washington. After the Army had given
him numerous extensions to the due date of September 28, Herring
stopped the charade by formally requesting his contract be voided
for reasons of non-delivery.
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