Then one night, some five or six weeks later, Wilbur came home from

the bicycle shop, to tell Orville enthusiastically of an idea he had

hit upon. A customer had dropped in to buy an inner tube for a tire.

Wilbur had taken the tube from the pasteboard box it came in and was

toying with the box while talking to the customer. As he twisted the

box he observed that though the vertical sides were rigid endwise, the

top and bottom sides could be twisted to have different angles at the

opposite ends. Why, he thought, couldn’t the wings of a gliding machine

be warped from one end to the other in this same way? Thus the wings

could be put at a greater angle at one side than at the other, without

structural weakness. That plan seemed so satisfactory that the Wrights

did not look for or consider any other method.

A few weeks later, in August, 1899, the brothers built a biplane kite,

and Wilbur, with a group of small boys as spectators, flew it on a

common at the edge of town. This kite had wing surfaces five feet from

tip to tip by thirteen inches wide. The warping of these surfaces

could be accomplished by the use of four cords reaching from the kite

to the ground. Two of the cords were attached to the forward corners

of the right wing tips, one to the upper and one to the lower; the

other ends of the cords, at the ground, were tied to opposite ends of

a short stick to be held in the operator’s hand. The cords tied to the

left wing were arranged in the same way. With a stick in each hand,

the operator could move the wings as he desired. The upper wing could

be moved farther forward or farther backward than the lower wing,

according to the direction in which the two sticks were simultaneously

inclined, by movement of the wrists. By inclining the two sticks in

opposite directions it was possible to draw one upper wing tip farther

forward than the lower at that end, while at the other end of the kite

the lower wing tip would be the one farther forward. This moving of

the wing tips in opposite directions caused a twisting or warping of

the wings. Then the wing at one end would be presented to the wind at

a different angle from that at the other end. If one end of the kite

started to sink, sidewise balance could be restored by exposing the

wing at that end at a greater angle, thus getting more lift.

Balance from front to rear was to be maintained by inclining the two

sticks in the operator’s hands in the same direction--to move the upper

wing either forward or backward over the lower wing, to change the

center of lift.

But in addition to this moving of the wings forward and backward, the

Wrights added an “elevator” at the rear. It was held by a pair of

wooden rods attached at right angles to the uprights that connected the

wings. When the upper wing was pulled forward, to turn the kite upward

in front, the elevator met the air at its top side and was pressed

downward, which helped to turn the wings upward--as the rear elevator

does on planes today.

Though their interest did not lag, the Wrights did nothing more for

some time about kite experiments, except to seek information in regard

to wind velocity in different parts of the country. They wrote to the

Weather Bureau at Washington, in December, 1899, and Willis Moore,

chief of that Bureau, sent them a number of government bulletins that

included statistics on wind velocities at various places. They looked

these over, but at that time made no further investigation of any of

the places mentioned.

[Illustration: THE FIRST CAMP AT KITTY HAWK. _Top_: The 1900 camp.

_Bottom_: Kitty Hawk Bay as seen from the 1900 camp.]

In May, 1900, Wilbur Wright wrote a letter to Octave Chanute, living in

Chicago, who had written _Progress in Flying Machines_. Though Chanute

was better known in engineering circles by his work for certain western

railroads, as well as for having built the Kansas City bridge and the

Chicago stockyards, his book, a reprint of his articles published from

1891 to 1893, had made him probably the best authority on the history

of aeronautics. Thinking Chanute would be interested, Wilbur told him

in his letter of a plan he had for experimenting with a man-carrying

kite by means of which, Wilbur thought, one would be able to get hours

of practice in operating a machine in the air. He proposed the use of a

high tower from the top of which a cable would lead to the man-carrying

kite. He described to Chanute, in his letter, the system of control to

be used in the kite--the warping of wings for lateral control, and the

shifting of the upper surface backward and forward for longitudinal

control--the same system used in the five-foot kite tested the previous

August. Then he asked Chanute if he had any information as to locations

where winds suitable for carrying on such experiments might be found.

(This letter from Wilbur marked the beginning of an acquaintance and

correspondence with Chanute that lasted for a number of years.) Chanute

suggested San Diego, California, and St. James City (Pine Island),

Florida, to be considered because of the steady sea breezes. But, on

the other hand, he pointed out that, since those places were deficient

in sand hills, perhaps even better locations could be found on the

Atlantic coast of South Carolina or Georgia.

[Illustration: THE 1902 GLIDER. The Wrights are testing the efficiency

of the 1902 glider by flying it as a kite--September 19, 1902.]

When the rush of the spring trade in bicycles began to subside,

giving them more time for other interests, the Wrights again took

up with enthusiasm the study of equilibrium. Each day they proposed

and discussed new devices. Orville thought the shifting of the upper

surface backward and forward over the lower one, for longitudinal

equilibrium, though successful in their kite, would not be practical

for a man-carrying glider, which would start and land on the ground.

He suggested that the wing surfaces be fixed one above the other, and

that an elevator be placed some distance in front of the wings, instead

of at the rear. In this position there would be less danger of the

elevator touching the ground in starting; and if from any cause the

elevator were disabled it would be discovered before the machine got

into the air. Wilbur then proposed that, since curved surfaces were

more efficient than flat planes, the front rudder, or elevator, should

be made flexible. Then it could be bent to present a concave surface on

whichever side a pressure was desired, but would be flat when moving

edgewise through the air.

The Wrights did not at first think an elevator in front would provide

inherent stability--that is, it would not give the machine the desired

tendency to restore its own balance just from the arrangement of its

fixed parts. But Wilbur shortly afterward developed a theory that led

him to believe the machine would have that quality.

Having read that the center of pressure moves toward the front edge

of the wings whenever the wings are turned more nearly horizontal in

flight, he thought inherent longitudinal stability could be obtained

if the front elevator were set at a negative angle--that is, with its

front edge lower than its rear edge. With such an arrangement of wings

and elevator, every time the wings became more nearly horizontal in

flight and met the air at a smaller angle on their under sides, the

elevator would meet the air at a greater angle on its upper side. So,

he reasoned, whenever, by becoming more nearly horizontal, the wings

caused the center of pressure to move forward, tending to turn the

machine upward in front, the front elevator would receive a greater

downward pressure on its upper side and so counteract the disturbing

pressure on the wings.

Actual tests later proved that the negative angle of the front elevator

did not provide the inherent stability expected. The explanation was

that the center of pressure on cambered wings traveled in the opposite

direction from that which Wilbur’s reading had led him to expect. The

Wrights later were to discover that Wilbur’s reasoning was correct;

but because the travel of the center of pressure was rearward instead

of forward the elevator had to be set at a positive instead of at a

negative angle.

The Wrights’ elevator possessed three features not found in the gliders

of any of the earlier experimenters. It was in front of the wings,

where it was less liable to damage by striking the ground in take-off

and landing; it was operable, instead of fixed as in other machines;

and it flexed to present a convex surface to the air, instead of a flat

surface. At this early stage of their work the Wrights considered this

front elevator their most important invention, because, from their

reading, they thought it was solving a problem more difficult than that

of lateral control.

Though the Wrights’ reasons for placing the elevator in front of the

wings were at first those just mentioned, they afterward found that

this arrangement had much greater importance for two reasons not at

first discovered. One of these was that it eliminated all danger of a

nose dive when the plane got into what is known as a “stall”--when the

speed became too slow. The other reason was that the elevator in front,

set at a positive angle with the pressure on its under side, not only

produced inherent stability, but also carried part of the load, and so

relieved the wings to that extent. (An elevator in the rear, set at a

negative angle to provide inherent stability, carries a pressure on its

upper side, which adds just that much to the load the wings must carry.)

Around the first of August, 1900, the brothers decided to build a

man-carrying glider on which to try out their inventions. To get

practice in operating it they would first fly it as a kite. For such

kite flying, flat open country would be needed; and for the gliding,

sand hills free from trees or shrubs. Once again they examined the

reports they had received from the Weather Bureau at Washington.

Several of the places where winds might be suitable were in the Far

West, but one in the East, much nearer to Dayton, was a place with an

odd name, Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. They decided to write at once to

Kitty Hawk for further information.

Wilbur Wright addressed a letter to the chief of the Kitty Hawk

weather bureau station, asking for various details about the locality,

explaining that he might wish to go there shortly to conduct

experiments with a man-carrying kite. He inquired, too, if it would be

possible for him and his brother to obtain board and lodging in the

vicinity until they could get themselves established in a camp.

Joseph J. Dosher, in charge of the Kitty Hawk station, who received

the letter, replied briefly, on August 16, giving the direction of the

prevailing winds; and he described the nature of the land for many

miles.

After writing his reply, Dosher handed Wilbur Wright’s letter to

a neighbor, William J. Tate, with the request that he also make a

reply. “Bill” Tate (later known as Captain Tate) was probably the

best-educated man in that locality. He lived about a mile inland from

the weather station, in the hamlet or settlement of Kitty Hawk, where

he had formerly been the postmaster. For all practical purposes he

still was the postmaster, though the office was in his wife’s name.

Endowed with a gift for expressing himself readily in either speech

or writing, Tate did a creditable job when he wrote to Wilbur Wright

on August 18. Not only did he tell about the suitability of the Kitty

Hawk region, because of the prevailing high winds, for the kind of

experiments Wilbur had mentioned, but he went into details about the

treeless sand hills and the general terrain. And he said arrangements

could undoubtedly be made for the Wrights to obtain board for as long

as desired.

The letters from Dosher and Tate--particularly the one from

Tate--convinced the Wrights that Kitty Hawk was the place for their

experiments. Almost immediately they decided they would go to Kitty

Hawk as soon as they could build their glider.

The work at Dayton, getting parts and material ready for the glider,

required only a few weeks. Only the cutting and sewing of the cloth

covering for the wings, the bending of the ash ribs into shape, and

making the metal connections, took much time. The cost of the whole

machine in actual money outlay was trifling, probably not more than $15.

It was arranged that Orville should stay in Dayton, to look after the

bicycle shop until Wilbur got settled at Kitty Hawk, and then join him

there.

Wilbur set out on a September day, taking with him parts of the glider

and all material needed to assemble it except some spruce lumber he

expected to obtain nearer his destination.

The journey proved to be more of an undertaking than Wilbur expected.

V

GLIDING AT KITTY HAWK

One must look at a map of North Carolina to get an idea of the

isolation of the long strip of sandy beach that separates the Atlantic

Ocean from Albemarle, Pamlico, and Roanoke Sounds. At the time the

Wrights went there, no bridges connected this beach with any part of

the North Carolina mainland or even with near-by Roanoke Island, seat

of Sir Walter Raleigh’s “Lost Colony.” At one point on the beach was

the Kitty Hawk life-saving station, and alongside of it a government

weather bureau. About a mile back from the ocean was the hamlet of

Kitty Hawk which, though it had a post office, was little more than a

settlement, with only about a score of dwelling houses, most of them as

widely scattered as in an ordinary farming community. Four miles south

was the Kill Devil life-saving station.

It was not surprising that when Wilbur Wright, on September 9, 1900,

reached Elizabeth City, North Carolina, the nearest railroad point

to his destination, the first persons he chanced to ask about Kitty

Hawk had never heard of the place. Then he learned that a boat made

weekly trips to Roanoke Island; but it had gone the day before. Not

liking delay, he went to the water front to inquire if another boat

might be available. There he met one Israel Perry, formerly a resident

of Kitty Hawk, who lived the year round on his little flat-bottomed

schooner. As no other boatman showed any interest in making the trip,

Wilbur booked passage with “Captain” Perry, despite the boat’s dirty,

forbidding appearance. After loading parts of the glider and other

goods that had been shipped from Dayton, he set out with Perry on the

morning of September 10 for the forty-mile voyage to Kitty Hawk. Wilbur

noticed that the small boat they used to go from the wharf out to where

the schooner was anchored was leaking badly and he asked if it was safe.

“Oh,” Perry assured him, “it’s safer than the _big_ boat.” That didn’t

inspire too much confidence in what was in store, and Wilbur soon

learned that any misgivings he felt were amply justified. Toward the

middle of the afternoon they met a strong head wind that forced them to

seek a smooth water haven in North River where they anchored to await

better weather. By that time Wilbur had worked up a good appetite; but

he discovered that neither the food nor the kitchen met even minimum

standards of cleanliness and he made excuses, as politely as he could,

for not eating. All he had with him against hunger was a small jar of

jelly his sister Katharine had slipped into his suitcase.

The weather was not favorable for continuing the voyage until the

afternoon of the second day, and the boat reached a wharf, where there

was a small store, on Kitty Hawk bay, at about nine o’clock that night.

Not knowing where else to go, Wilbur stayed aboard until the next

morning. A small boy named Baum agreed to guide him to the home of

William J. Tate, about a quarter of a mile away. By the time Wilbur

arrived there, on that morning of September 12, it was just forty-eight

hours since he had tasted food other than his little supply of jelly.

After introducing himself, and in response to “Bill” Tate’s inquiries

about how he enjoyed his trip, Wilbur spoke of his back being sore from

lying on deck and of how his arm ached from holding on when the boat

rolled. Then it came out that he had been unable to bring himself to

eat the food provided on the Perry schooner.

“You mean to tell me,” asked “Bill” Tate, greatly concerned, “that

you’ve eaten no victuals for two days?”

Here was a situation that called for quick action in a hospitable home.

It was after the Tates’ breakfast hour, but Mrs. Tate soon had a fire

in the kitchen stove and prepared a great platter of ham and eggs that

the guest seemed to relish.

Then Wilbur inquired if it would be possible for him to obtain board

and lodging there for the week or more until his brother “Orv” arrived.

Tate went into an adjoining room to ask his wife. As the door was ajar,

Wilbur could hear what was said. Mrs. Tate was a bit alarmed. Here

was a man able to devote time and money for weeks at a time to sport.

Doubtless he must be a person of great wealth, accustomed to every

luxury. Would he be satisfied with the best they could offer?

Wilbur stepped to the door, explaining that he could not help

overhearing their conversation, and said it must be understood that

if he were accepted as a paying guest he would not expect any extra

frills, but would greatly appreciate the courtesy.

“This fellow’s a real gentleman,” thought Tate, and by way of settling

the question, without waiting to hear any more from his wife, he said

to Wilbur:

“You must be tired. Why don’t you come into our spare bedroom and take

a nap?”

By the next day Wilbur was at work. The cloth covering for the

glider--white French sateen of extra good quality--had already been

shaped and sewed at Dayton, except at the ends, to permit fitting it

over the framework. But now he had to make changes in the covering,

because the glider was going to be smaller than originally planned. The

longest timbers, for the wing spars, that he had been able to find in

either Norfolk or Elizabeth City were only sixteen feet long instead

of the eighteen-foot length he desired. Thus it was necessary to cut

out strips from the middle of the lengths of cloth for both upper and

lower wings. For resewing the cloth where necessary, Wilbur borrowed

Mrs. Tate’s machine. But all the rest of the work of assembling the

glider was done at a tent Wilbur set up, about half a mile from the

Tate home, at a spot where there were a few trees and a view of the

bay. He dragged the crates, containing various parts and tools, to the

tent and hoped to have everything in readiness when Orville arrived.

But the heat was intense, the job of carrying water to the camp used up

much energy, and when Orville got there, on September 28, Wilbur told

him regretfully that much work on the glider was still to be done.

Orville’s trip had been uneventful. Indeed, though he came on a better

boat than Israel Perry’s, he had struck such a calm sea that his voyage

from Elizabeth City took two days, the same as Wilbur’s. For the

first five days after Orville’s arrival, both brothers stayed at the

Tate home. Then they established themselves in camp. One end of their

tent, twelve by twenty-two feet, was tied to a tree for anchorage. The

tree was headquarters for a mocking bird that sometimes joined in the

harmony when Orville twanged at a mandolin he had brought from home.

Not many visitors came to the camp from near-by Kitty Hawk. One reason

for this was that the camp was considered dangerous after news got

about that the Wrights used a gasoline stove. “Bill” Tate was favorably

impressed, though, with an acetylene lamp, intended for a bicycle, that

the Wrights used for lighting. He said he had a notion to install such

a system of gas lighting in his house.

It was necessary to carry water about one thousand feet over the sand.

Orville volunteered to do the cooking--and he continued to do so during

all their experiments at Kitty Hawk. But he always felt that he had the

better of the bargain, for the dish-washing job was Wilbur’s. As it was

impossible to obtain fresh bread, Orville learned to make biscuits,

and without use of milk. They were good biscuits, too--better, his

father afterward insisted, than anyone else could make. To simplify

operations, Orville always mixed at one time enough flour and other dry

ingredients to last for several days, as biscuits had to be baked three

times daily.

Working together, the brothers soon had the glider assembled. When

completed it weighed about fifty-two pounds. Though the main spars were

only sixteen feet long, the “bows” at the ends of each wing surface

brought the total span to nearly seventeen and one-half feet. The

total lifting area was 165 square feet instead of 200 as intended. A

space eighteen inches wide at the center of the lower surface where

the operator would lie, with feet over the rear spar, was left free of

covering. The apparatus had no rear vanes or tail of any kind; but it

had two important features never used by previous experimenters. One

was the front rudder, or “elevator,” the rear edge of which was about

thirty inches from the nearest edge of the wings; the other was the

wing warping. By an ingenious arrangement of the trussing, the wings

could be twisted into a helicoidal warp from one end to the other, thus

exposing one wing to the air at a greater angle than the other. This

was to be used for bringing the machine back to the level after it was

tipped up sidewise by a gust of wind.

The Wrights’ first surprise at Kitty Hawk was that the winds there were

not what they had counted on. United States Weather Bureau reports

had led them to think they would have winds of about fifteen miles an

hour almost every day. But now it dawned on them that fifteen miles an

hour was simply the daily average for a month. Sometimes the wind was

sixty miles an hour, and the next day it would be entirely calm. It now

began to look as if they might frequently have to wait a few days for

suitable conditions, which meant that their experiments would require

more time than they had expected.

Almost as soon as they began their trials of the glider, the brothers

got another surprise. According to the Lilienthal tables of air

pressures, their machine of 165 square feet needed a wind of only from

seventeen to twenty-one miles an hour to support it as a kite with a

pilot aboard. But they found that much stronger winds were needed to

lift it. Since suitable winds would not be plentiful, their plan of

practicing by the hour aboard the glider while flying it as a kite

would have to be postponed. Instead, they flew it as a kite, loaded

with about fifty pounds of chain, but with no man aboard. They held it

with two ropes, and operated the balancing system by cords from the

ground. Though the results were promising, inspiring confidence in

the system of maintaining equilibrium, the brothers knew that only by

actual gliding experience could they confirm what the kite experiments

had indicated as being true.

One thing that puzzled them was that the machine appeared to be greatly

deficient in lifting power as compared with calculated lift of curved

surfaces of its size. In wondering what might be the cause of this wide

discrepancy between expected and actual lifts, the Wrights considered

the possibility that it might be because the curvature of the wings

was less than that used by Lilienthal. Or could it be that the cloth

covering was too porous and permitted some of the lifting power of the

wind to be lost? They wondered, too, if the Lilienthal tables they had

followed, relating to air pressure on wing surfaces, could be in error.

They next determined to try gliding on the side of a hill. That meant

toting their machine four miles south of their camp to a great sand

dune about one hundred feet high, called Kill Devil Hill. On their

first day at the hill, the wind was about twenty-five miles an hour.

As they lacked previous experience at gliding they decided to wait

for less of a blow for their first attempt. The next day the wind had

subsided to fourteen miles an hour, and they made about a dozen glides.

“Bill” Tate was there and assisted them.

In making these glides, the machine was usually only two or three feet

from the soft, sandy ground, and though the brothers repeatedly made

landings while moving at a speed of twenty miles an hour, neither

operator nor machine was harmed. The slope of the hill toward the

northeast was about 9½ degrees, or a drop of approximately one foot

in six. After moving at a rate of about twenty-five to thirty miles

an hour with reference to the wind, or ten to fifteen miles over the

ground, the machine, while keeping its course parallel to the slope,

increased its speed, thus indicating that it could glide on a slope

less steep.

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