CHAPTER II

FIRST FLIGHTS

It was my desire to build a machine and install a motor at once, and thus take advantage of the opportunity furnished by the thick, smooth ice over Lake Keuka at that season of the year. But Lieutenant Selfridge, who had read a great deal about gliders and who had studied them from every angle, believed we should continue experimenting with the glider. However, we decided to build a machine which we believed would fly, and in due time a motor was installed and it was taken down on Lake Keuka to be tried out. We called it the "Red Wing," and to Lieutenant Selfridge belongs the honour of designing it, though all the members of the Aerial Experiment Association had some hand in its construction. We all had our own ideas about the design of this first machine, but to Lieutenant Selfridge was left the privilege of accepting or rejecting the many suggestions made from time to time, in order that greater progress might be made. A number of our suggestions were accepted, and while the machine as completed cannot properly be described as the result of one man's ideas, the honour of being the final arbiter of all the problems of its design certainly belongs to Lieutenant Selfridge.

Now that the machine was completed and the motor installed, we waited for favourable weather to make the first trial. Winter weather around Lake Keuka is a very uncertain element, and we had a long, tiresome wait until the wintry gales that blew out of the north gave way to an intensely cold spell. Our opportunity came on March 12, 1908. There was scarcely a bit of wind, but it was bitterly cold. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Selfridge was absent, having left Hammondsport on business, and "Casey" Baldwin was selected to make the first trial. We were all on edge with eagerness to see what the machine would do. Same of us were confident, others sceptical.

Baldwin climbed into the seat, took the control in hand, and we cranked the motor. When we released our hold of the machine, it sped over the ice like a scared rabbit for two or three hundred feet, and then, much to our joy, it jumped into the air. This was what we had worked for through many long months, and naturally we watched the brief and uncertain course of Baldwin with a good deal of emotion. Rising to a height of six or eight feet, Baldwin flew the unheard-of distance of three hundred and eighteen feet, eleven inches! Then he came down ingloriously on one wing. As we learned afterward, the frail framework of the tail had bent and the machine had flopped over on its side and dropped on the wing, which gave way and caused the machine to turn completely around.

But it had been a successful flight and we took no toll of the damage to the machine or the cost. We had succeeded! that was the main thing. We had actually flown the "Red Wing" three hundred and eighteen feet and eleven inches! We knew now we could build a machine that would fly longer and come down at the direction of the operator with safety to both.

It had taken just seven weeks to build the machine and to get it ready for the trial; it had taken just about twenty seconds to smash it.

But a great thing had been accomplished. We had achieved the first public flight of a heavier-than-air machine in America!

As our original plans provided for the building of one machine designed by each member of the Association, with the assistance of all the others, the building of the next one fell to Mr. Baldwin, and it was called the "White Wing." The design of the "Red Wing" was followed in many details, but several things were added which we believed would give increased stability and greater flying power. The construction of the "White Wing" was begun at once, but before we could complete it the ice on the lake had yielded to the spring winds and we were therefore obliged to transfer our future trials to land. This required wheels for starting and alighting in the place of the ice runners used on the "Red Wing." An old half-mile race track a short distance up the valley from the Lake was rented and put in shape for flights. The place was called "Stony Brook Farm," and it was for a long time afterward the scene of our flying exploits at Hammondsport.

It would be tiresome to the reader to be told of all the discouragements we met with; of the disheartening smashes we suffered; how almost every time we managed to get the new machine off the ground for brief but encouraging flights, it would come down so hard that something would give way and we would have to set about the task of building it up again. We soon learned that it was comparatively easy to get the machine up in the air, but it was most difficult to get it back to earth without smashing something. The fact was, we had not learned the art of landing an aeroplane with ease and safety–an absolutely necessary art for every successful aviator to know. It seemed one day that the limit of hard luck had been reached, when, after a brief flight and a somewhat rough landing, the machine folded up and sank down on its side, like a wounded bird, just as we were feeling pretty good over a successful landing without breakage.

Changes in the details of the machine were many and frequent, and after each change there was a flight or an attempted flight. Sometimes we managed to make quite a flight, and others and more numerous merely short "jumps" that would land the machine in a potato patch or a cornfield, where, in the yielding ground, the wheels would crumple up and let the whole thing down. Up to this time we had always used silk to cover the planes, but this proved very expensive and we decided to try a substitute. An entirely new set of planes were made and the new covering put on them. They looked very pretty and white as we took the rebuilt machine out with every expectation that it would fly. Great was our surprise, however, when it refused absolutely to make even an encouraging jump. For a time we were at a loss to understand it. Then the reason became as plain as day; we had used cotton to cover the planes, and, being porous, it would not furnish the sustaining power in flight. This was quickly remedied by coating the cotton covering with varnish, rendering it impervious to the air. After that it flew all right. I believe this was the first instance of the use of a liquid filler to coat the surface cloth. It is now used widely, both in this country and in Europe.

We had a great many minor misfortunes with the "White Wing," but each one taught us a lesson. We gradually learned where the stresses and strains lay, and overcame them. Thus, little by little, the machine was reduced in weight, simplified in detail, and finally took on some semblance to the standard Curtiss aeroplane of today.

All the members of the Aerial Experiment Association were in Hammondsport at this time, including Dr. Alexander Graham Bell. We had established an office in the annex which had been built on the Curtiss homestead, and here took place nightly discussions on the work of the day past and the plans for the day to follow. Some of the boys named the office the "thinkorium." Every night the minutes of the previous meeting would be read and discussed. These minutes, by the way, were religiously kept by Lieutenant Selfridge and later published in the form of a bulletin and sent to each member. Marvellous in range were the subjects brought up and talked over at these meetings! Dr. Bell was the source of the most unusual suggestions for discussion. Usually these were things he had given a great deal of thought and time to, and, therefore, his opinions on any of his hobbies were most interesting. For instance, he had collected a great deal of information on the genealogy of the Hyde family, comprising some seven thousand individuals. These he had arranged in his card index system, in order to determine the proportion of male and female individuals, their relative length of life, and other characteristics. Or, perhaps, the Doctor would talk about his scheme to influence the sex of sheep by a certain method of feeding; his early experiences with the telephone, the phonograph, the harmonic telegraph, and multiple telegraphy. At other times we would do a jig-saw puzzle with pictures of aeroplanes, or listen to lectures on physical culture by Dr. Alden, of the village. Then, for a change, we would discuss, with great interest and sincerity, the various methods of making sounds to accompany the action of a picture, behind the curtain of the moving-picture show, which we all had attended. Motorcycle construction and operation were studied at the factory and on the roads around Hammondsport. McCurdy used to give us daily demonstrations of how to fall off a motorcycle scientifically. He fell off so often, in fact, that we feared he would never make an aviator. In this opinion, of course, we were very much in error, as he became one of the first, and also one of the best aviators in the country. Atmospheric pressure, the vacuum motor, Dr. Bell's tetrahedral construction, and even astronomical subjects all found a place in the nightly discussions at the "thinkorium."

Of course there were many important things that took up our attention, but we could not always be grave and dignified. I recall one evening somebody started a discussion on the idea of elevating Trinity Church, in New York City, on the top of a skyscraper, and using the revenue from the ground rental to convert the heathen. This gave a decided shock to a ministerial visitor who happened to be present.

When summer came on there were frequent motorcycle trips when the weather did not permit of flying, or when the shop was at work repairing one of our frequent smashes. "Casey" Baldwin and McCurdy furnished a surprise one day by a rather unusual long-distance trip on motorcycles. "Let's go up to Hamilton, Ontario," said Baldwin, probably choosing Hamilton as the destination because he was charged with having a sweetheart there.

"All right," answered McCurdy.

Without a moment's hesitation the two mounted their wheels, not even stopping to get their caps, and rode through to Hamilton, a hundred and fifty miles distant, buying everything they required along the way. They were gone a week and came back by the same route.

A favourite subject of talk at the "thinkorium," at least between McCurdy and Selfridge, was on some of the effects of the "torque" of a propeller and whenever this arose we would expect the argument to keep up until one or the other would fall asleep.

After the nightly formal sessions of the members of the Association the courtesy of the floor was extended to any one who might be present for the discussion of anything he might see fit to bring up. Later we would adjourn to Dr. Bell's room, where he would put himself into a comfortable position, light his inevitable pipe, and produce his note books. In these note books Dr. Bell would write down everything his thoughts on every subject imaginable, his ideas about many things, sketches, computations. All these he would sign, date, and have witnessed. It was Dr. Bell's custom to work at night when there were no distracting noises, though there were few of these at Hammondsport even during the daylight hours; at night it is quiet enough for the most exacting victim of insomnia. Dr. Bell often sat up until long after midnight, but he made up for the lost time by sleeping until noon. No one was allowed to wake him for any reason. The rest of us were up early in order to take advantage of the favourable flying conditions during the early morning hours. Dr. Bell had a strong aversion to the ringing of the telephone bell the great invention for which he is responsible. I occasionally went into his room and found the bell stuffed with paper, or wound around with towels.

"Little did I think when I invented this thing," said Dr. Bell, one day when he had been awakened by the jingling of the bell, "that it would rise up to mock and annoy me."

While the Doctor enjoyed his morning sleep we were out on "Stony Brook Farm" trying to fly. We had put up a tent against the side of an old sheep barn, and out of this we would haul the machine while the grass was still wet with dew. One never knew what to expect of it. Sometimes a short flight would be made; at others, something would break. Or, maybe, the wind would come up and this would force us to abandon all further trials for the day. Then it was back to the shop to work on some new device, or to repair damages until the wind died out with the setting of the sun. Early in the morning and late in the evening were the best periods of the day for our experimental work because of the absence of wind.

On May 22, 1908, our second machine, the "White Wing," was brought to such a state of perfection that I flew it a distance of one thousand and seventeen feet in nineteen seconds, and landed without damage in a ploughed field outside the old race track. It was regarded as a remarkable flight at that time, and naturally, I felt very much elated.

##