years before, he had introduced the Remington typewriter to Europe. As
a hobby he had taken up ballooning and held a pilot’s license. It was
of more than casual interest to him that Alexander believed successful
flights had been made in America. Lahm then made an effort to learn the
facts from a source right in Dayton, Ohio. He wrote to Nelson Bierce, a
manufacturer there whom he knew, asking what sort of people the Wrights
were and what was known about their reported experiments. Bierce didn’t
make any investigation, but wrote to Lahm, late in November, that the
Wrights were considered men of good character, and that they were said
to be carrying on some kind of flying experiments near Dayton; but, he
said, no one seemed to know much about the nature of these experiments.
Before there was time for Bierce’s letter to reach him, Lahm got other
news about the Wrights. A letter they had sent on November 17, to
Besançon, editor of _L’Aérophile_, giving a detailed account of their
most recent experiments, had been published on November 30 in _L’Auto_,
a Paris daily dealing with sports. Besançon had given the letter to
_L’Auto_ because his own next monthly issue would not go to press for a
week or more and he was afraid a rival German publication might print,
before he could, similar information from the Wrights.
That letter to Besançon, containing much specific information, created
a sensation. There was much animated talk about its contents that night
of November 30 at the Aéro Club. Indeed, that date is noteworthy in
aeronautical history, for publication of the letter to Besançon led to
several important investigations.
News about the Wrights’ recent flights that the letter revealed was
taken up by one or two of the wire services and cabled back to the
United States where it reached various newspapers, including those in
Dayton. But Dayton editors couldn’t understand why the Wrights should
have stirred up so much excitement in France.
One investigation was started by Lahm, now determined to get the
facts. He had a brother-in-law in Mansfield, Ohio, Henry M. Weaver (a
manufacturer of cash carriers for department stores); and Weaver had a
son, Henry, Jr., perhaps not too busy to go to Dayton and find out all
about the Wrights. Immediately after leaving his friends at the Aéro
Club, Lahm sent this cable to the younger Weaver: “Verify what Wright
brothers claim necessary go Dayton today prompt answer cable.”
The young man in Mansfield, never having heard of the Wrights, supposed
the message must be for his father, then away on a business trip, and
he forwarded it to him at the Grand Pacific Hotel in Chicago. It was
received by the father on December 1, shortly after he had retired for
the night. Weaver, Sr., didn’t at once recall ever having heard of
the Wrights, but if they had a “claim” against his brother-in-law, he
would see what could be done about settling it. As the question must be
important he sent a wire to Dayton that very night. Having no street
address for them, he addressed it simply to “Wright Brothers.” This
message was not clear to the Wrights and their reply the next morning
was as puzzling to Weaver as his had been to them. To get down to
dots and make sure he was addressing the people he sought, Weaver then
sent another telegram asking the Wrights if they knew F. S. Lahm, of
Paris. The Wrights didn’t know Lahm but they knew _of_ him and replied:
“Yes Lahm French aeronaut.” When he noted that word “aeronaut,” Weaver
began to remember vaguely having heard some years previously about two
brothers who had experimented with a glider somewhere in the Carolinas.
The mystery seemed to be lifting. Doubtless the Wrights had made a
glider for Lahm and now there was some misunderstanding about the
price. He immediately telegraphed again to the Wrights, saying he would
arrive in Dayton the next morning (Sunday), and asking the Wrights to
meet him at the Algonquin Hotel.
When he reached the hotel in Dayton, Weaver discovered that there was
no firm of Wright Brothers in the telephone book or city directory.
The hotel clerk had never heard of them. Others whom he asked if they
knew of anyone in Dayton having a flying-machine looked at him blankly
and shook their heads. Well, these Wrights must be somewhere, Weaver
reflected, for they had replied to his two earlier telegrams. He may
have feared that their place of business was closed for the week end
before they could have received his telegram asking them to meet him.
At any rate, he went to the office of the telegraph company. There he
met the messenger boy who had delivered his message. The boy explained
that the brothers had their office at the Wright Cycle Company but
that, since it was Sunday, they could not be reached except at their
home. Weaver then returned to his hotel. There he found Orville Wright
waiting for him.
As soon as they began to talk, Weaver said: “You made a glider, I
believe, for Mr. Lahm, in Paris.”
Orville, of course, shook his head. No, he said, they had never made a
glider for Mr. Lahm.
“Then,” asked Weaver, even more puzzled, “what in the world can be the
meaning of this cable?” And he handed to Orville the message from Paris.
Orville then understood. Evidently, he said, Lahm, a member of the Aéro
Club of France, wished to find out if the report of their flights sent
to the Aéro Club by the Wright brothers was true.
As Weaver later reported in a letter to Lahm, he was already impressed
by this younger Wright brother. “His very appearance would disarm any
suspicion--with a face more of a poet than an inventor or promoter.
In contour, head and face resemble Edgar Allan Poe ... very modest in
alluding to the marvels they have accomplished ...”
Orville, somewhat amused, said if an investigation was desired, they
might as well get right at it. It was too late in the season for
flying, and the machine had been taken apart, but he could introduce
the visitor to many responsible people who had seen them fly.
Orville took him to the home of C. S. Billman, of the West Side
Savings and Loan Company. The Billmans were a fairly large family
and nearly all had seen the Wrights fly. When the callers were taken
into the sitting-room the first member of the family to appear was a
four-year-old boy. “Son,” asked Weaver jokingly, “have you ever seen a
flying-machine?” He wasn’t expecting to get evidence just yet; but the
boy began to run around the room, trying to imitate with his hands the
motion of a propeller and to make a noise like the machine.
Turning to Orville, Weaver laughingly observed: “I’m about convinced
already. That boy couldn’t be a bribed witness.”
They also went, by interurban car, to talk with the Beard family,
across from the flying field, and with Amos Stauffer, the nearest
farmer up the road.
As Weaver reported: “On October 5, he [Stauffer] was cutting corn
in the next field east, which is higher ground. When he noticed the
aeroplane had started on its flight he remarked to his helper: ‘Well,
the boys are at it again,’ and kept on cutting corn, at the same time
keeping an eye on the great white form rushing about its course. ‘I
just kept on shocking corn,’ he continued, ‘until I got down to the
fence, and the durned thing was still going round. I thought it would
never stop.’ I asked him how long he thought the flight continued, and
he replied it seemed to him it was in the air for half an hour.”
Then Orville and Weaver returned to Dayton and called on William Fouts,
West Side druggist, who had witnessed the long flight on October 5.
Later they went to the Wright home. Of that visit Weaver wrote: “The
elder brother, Wilbur, I found even quieter and less demonstrative than
the younger. He looked the scholar and recluse. Neither is married. As
Mr. Wright expressed it, they had not the means to support ‘a wife and
a flying-machine too.’”
Weaver was completely convinced before he left Dayton, and on December
3, cabled to Lahm: “Claims completely verified.” A few days later, on
December 6, back at his home in Mansfield, he rushed a letter to Lahm
giving his evidence of what the Wrights had done.
In a little more than a week after Weaver’s visit to Dayton, another
investigator appeared there, Robert Coquelle, representing _L’Auto_,
of Paris. He had been in New York attending the six-day bicycle races
and arrived in Dayton on December 12. Since his paper and _Les Sports_
had taken opposite sides regarding the possibility that the Wrights had
flown, and _L’Auto_ had been pro-Wright, Coquelle wished to report on
these “_deux marchands de cycles_” in a way to make a sensation. The
imaginative tale he wrote about how “mysterious” were the Wrights was
almost worthy of his compatriot, Dumas. The Wrights gave him names of
people who had witnessed flights but it is believed he didn’t bother to
consult many of them, evidently feeling sure he could invent a better
story than they could tell him. However, Coquelle was convinced that
the reports about the Wrights’ flights were not exaggerated and he
cabled a preliminary dispatch to his paper: Wright brothers refuse to
show their machine but I have seen some witnesses it is impossible to
doubt.
On December 13, the day after Coquelle’s visit to Dayton, the Wrights
sent another letter to M. Besançon, editor of _L’Aérophile_, in reply
to questions of his, and gave him details of their recent flights,
distances, height at which they flew, size of field, and so on.
Incidentally the closing paragraph of that letter contained a statement
in contradiction of a myth, still widely accepted:
The claim often made in the 19th century that the lack of
sufficiently light motors alone prohibited man from the empire
of the air was quite unfounded. At the speeds which birds
usually employ, a well-designed flyer can in actual practice
sustain a gross weight of 30 kilograms for each horsepower of
the motor, which gives ample margin for such motors as might
easily have been built 50 years ago.
Before Besançon could have received this letter, with its details
of recent flights, Robert Coquelle arrived in Paris, having taken a
boat from New York only a day or two after his stay in Dayton, and
his sensational story was published. Much of this report seemed so
incredible that one member of the Aéro Club said it almost made him
wonder if the Wright brothers existed at all.
[Illustration: THE U. S. ARMY TEST. Preparing the Wright plane for a
test at Fort Myer.]
What Weaver had written in his letter seemed convincing enough to Lahm
and he prepared a French translation of it to read to the aviation
committee of the Aéro Club of France at a meeting on the night of
December 29, 1905. That meeting, as Lahm later told about it to
friends, and in an article he gave to the Mansfield (Ohio) _News_,
published October 24, 1908, was a memorable one. The skeptical members
of the committee, greatly in the majority, having heard of Weaver’s
telegram, assumed the more elaborate report would be favorable to the
Wrights, and were prepared to combat it. Characteristic of the French,
there was almost ceremonious politeness at the beginning of the
meeting because everyone supposed there might be less politeness as the
discussions went on.
[Illustration: AT FORT MYER. Lieutenant Frank P. Lahm and Orville
Wright with the Wright plane during the test at Fort Myer. Lieutenant
Lahm was the first army officer to fly as a passenger in a plane.]
By the time Lahm had finished reading the letter, everyone began to
talk at once. Archdeacon, who presided, was famous for a high-pitched
staccato voice and it could be heard calling for order as he also
rapped on the table before him with a flat metal ruler.
One member observed that they had seen nothing about the Wrights’
flights in American newspapers, recognized as enterprising. He found
himself incapable of believing, he said, that all the journalists in
America would permit so important a piece of news to escape them.
Another remarked that they had heard the Wright brothers were of
modest enough wealth. Who, he asked, is their financier? It would be
interesting to talk with him.
Lahm was hard put to it to explain the lack of news about the flights
in the American papers. He himself didn’t understand that. But he tried
to explain that since the brothers did most of the mechanical work on
their machine themselves they did not require financial assistance. His
voice, however, was drowned in the hubbub. As the discussion continued,
so vehement were the contradictions of the Weaver letter that Lahm,
Ferber, Besançon, and Coquelle, the only ones present who seemed to
believe it, hardly dared express themselves at all. Someone turned
to Coquelle and asked him if he really accepted the stories of the
Wrights’ flights.
“I do,” he said--but in a low voice.
All conceded that Lahm’s friend Weaver had doubtless been sincere
in what he wrote but they insisted that he had somehow been fooled.
They “knew” flight was impossible with a motor of only twelve
horsepower. Indeed, many had decided that power flight would always be
an impossibility. This belief was all the stronger because a number
present had personally done enough in attempts to fly to know the
difficulties.
One member after another strolled into an adjoining room where they
could argue without being called to order. Finally Archdeacon found
himself nearly alone. When, long after midnight, the meeting finally
broke up the one thing all were agreed upon was that human flight, if
true, was of vast consequence.
When the Wrights learned how great was the incredulity at the Aéro Club
in France they were only amused that the stories seemed to the French
too wonderful to be true.
On December 31 the Weaver letter to Lahm was published in full in
_L’Auto_. The next day it appeared in the Paris edition of the New York
_Herald_ and also in _Les Sports_, competitor of _L’Auto_.
Though the Aéro Club did not yet know it, Captain Ferber in November
had started still another investigation. He had written to the Wrights
on November 15, asking permission to send an “official” commission
to see them. The Wrights answered on December 5 that they thought
it highly advisable that the French Government send a commission to
make a thorough investigation of their claims, and that it should
be done at once. Eight days later the Wrights received a cable
from Ferber saying: “Friend with full powers for stating terms of
contract will sail next Saturday.” Ferber also sent a letter, a copy
of which, he said, would be carried by Arnold Fordyce as his means of
identification, but this letter did not reach the Wrights until after
the visitor had arrived. As Ferber only a few weeks before had asked
permission to send a military commission, the brothers supposed the man
en route to Dayton represented the War Ministry.
Arnold Fordyce, the French emissary, arrived in New York on the
_Lorraine_, and reached Dayton shortly after Christmas, 1905. He was
about thirty-five years old, formerly an actor, of characteristic
French politeness, and he spoke English. His first meeting with the
Wrights was in their office over the old bicycle shop.
To the Wrights’ surprise he told them, in reply to a question, that
he had no connection with the French War Ministry. He had come, he
said, on behalf of a syndicate of wealthy men who wished to buy a
flying-machine and to present it to the French Government for the
national defense. He said he was secretary to M. Letellier, member
of the syndicate and owner and editor of the Paris newspaper, _Le
Journal_. He went on to explain that Letellier and his associates in
the syndicate were presenting the plane to the Government with the hope
they might receive decorations of the Legion of Honor. His story seemed
to the Wrights a bit fishy. They thought it more probable that he was
really representing the French War Ministry, but that the War Ministry
did not wish to appear directly in negotiations for a flying-machine.
The Wrights went ahead, though, to give him the information he sought.
First of all, he wished to make sure that they really had a machine
that would fly. They arranged for him to meet a number of trustworthy
persons who had witnessed flights, among them bankers, other prominent
businessmen, and county officials.
Fordyce was soon convinced that the machine would do all that had been
claimed for it, and he wanted a contract to take back with him to his
principals. Though Ferber’s cable had stated that Fordyce was coming
with “full powers” he did not have a power-of-attorney to represent
his principals. Still believing that Fordyce’s true mission was in
the interest of the French War Ministry, the Wrights had no objection
to entering into a contract with him granting an option for a short
period. They made it clear, however, that they reserved the right to
deal with their own Government at any time, even though the United
States War Department had not seemed appreciative of their former
offers of exclusive rights to the aeroplane. They also made it clear
that Letellier and his associates in the “syndicate” would have no
rights whatever in the machine except the right to pay for it. The
machine would be delivered only to the French Government.
The Fordyce option was for the purchase of one flying-machine at a
price of 1,000,000 francs, or $200,000, the price the Wrights already
had set in a letter to Captain Ferber. The option was to become void
if the holder failed by February 5, 1906, to deposit in escrow with J.
P. Morgan & Co., New York, 25,000 francs ($5,000) to the joint credit
of the Wright brothers and Arnold Fordyce. It was provided that the
contract would become null and void if the holder failed to make a
further deposit in escrow with J. P. Morgan & Co. by April 5, 1906,
to bring the total to 1,000,000 francs. But if the holder failed to
deposit altogether 1,000,000 francs, as stipulated, then the first
deposit of 25,000 francs would belong to the Wright brothers. If on
the other hand the Wrights failed to carry out any part of their own
obligations under the contract they would receive nothing.
On February 5, 1906, the date stated in the option for the first
deposit, the Wrights received a telegram from Morgan, Harjes & Co.,
Paris, stating that 25,000 francs had been deposited with them in
escrow to the joint credit of the Wright Brothers and Arnold Fordyce.
This seemed to confirm the suspicion held by the Wrights that Fordyce
represented the French Ministry of War and not a syndicate. But this
suspicion later proved to be false.
Some time after the Wrights had given this option they heard an
entirely different story about the nature of Fordyce’s mission.
According to this story, Captain Ferber, unable to persuade his
superior officers in the War Ministry to send an official investigator
to Dayton, had hit on the idea of having an investigation made by a
Paris newspaper. He then went to see Letellier, owner of _Le Journal_.
Letellier saw the possibilities of prestige for his paper by being
able to print the facts about the Wrights. If they really had flown,
that would be of great interest, and if they were only “bluffers,” as
many in France thought they were, the truth about them would still
be worth publishing. Letellier could well have afforded the gamble of
sending an investigator to Dayton. Aside from his ownership of _Le
Journal_, he was a man of considerable wealth, having made his money as
a contractor. He had built the main fortresses at Liège.
Whatever the truth may have been, if Letellier had intended to publish
what Fordyce learned about the Wrights, he did not at once do so. He
took the Fordyce option and presented it to the War Ministry and he
received in return a letter from the Minister of War stating that if
a Wright plane were acquired by the Ministry the purchase would be
made through _Le Journal_. Thus _Le Journal_ not only would have a big
“scoop” on news of the purchase, but would receive credit and acclaim
for a big patriotic act. Perhaps the owner of the paper would be
decorated!
For some time war clouds had been gathering over Morocco and it looked
as if there might be trouble between France and Germany. If war should
come, a flying-machine for scouting purposes would be of great value.
But in spite of the fact that a Frenchman, Fordyce, had been to see
the Wrights and reported favorably about them, the French war chiefs
couldn’t bring themselves to accept as a certainty the existence of a
practical flying-machine. The story seemed too incredible. There must
be a “catch” somewhere. Still, the War Ministry was willing to risk
making the down payment of 25,000 francs.
But when M. Etienne sent the down payment of 25,000 francs to Morgan,
Harjes & Co., the Paris branch of the banking firm of J. P. Morgan &
Co., on the last day of the allotted time, he nearly lost the option,
for an unexpected reason. Morgan, Harjes & Co. did not wish to accept
the money. Though the bank was under American control, French procedure
prevailed, and its officers were reluctant to hold money in escrow.
They feared there might be a dispute as to whether it finally would
belong to the War Ministry that deposited it, or to the Wrights. It
required eight hours of perspiring persuasion on the part of a War
Ministry representative before the bankers agreed to accept the money
and the option became binding.
After the option was in force, but before the date set in the contract
for the final payment, the French War Ministry sent a commission to
Dayton for the purpose of obtaining some amendments to the contract,
pertaining to the test flights.
This commission, which sailed from Cherbourg on the _Saint Paul_, was
headed by Commandant Bonel, of the Army Engineer Corps. Another member
was Arnold Fordyce. They reached New York on March 18, 1906. The other
two members were Captain Fournier, military attaché of the French
Embassy at Washington, and Walter V. R. Berry, an American subject,
who was legal counselor to that embassy. Though Fordyce was by now
zealously pro-Wright, the men at the War Ministry had no fear of his
exerting too much influence on the others, because of the presence
of Commandant Bonel, who was outspokenly skeptical. He had witnessed
tests by the French Government of the unsuccessful machine designed
by Clement Ader, a few years previously, and was convinced that no
heavier-than-air machine had ever flown or ever could. Bonel would
hardly let the commission make a fool of itself. Since he was the only
one of the four who spoke no English, he would need to have everything
explained to him--all the more reason why he would not be easily
imposed upon.
Before the French quartet had been in Dayton long, however, Bonel was
the most enthusiastic convert of all. The visitors met dependable
witnesses of flights who had previously talked to Fordyce; and
photographs of the machine in flight could hardly be fakes. Most of
all, they were impressed by the obviously high character of the Wrights
themselves. In cables to France they strongly recommended that the deal
be closed.
But while the commission was still in Dayton, the European war crisis
had subsided. Even before the formal settlement of the dispute, at
the close of the conference at Algeciras, Spain, on April 7, it was
known that France would still have a favored position in Morocco,
and the need for a scouting plane by the French Army became less
pressing. The War Ministry now began to demand more and more in
airplane performance. They would cable asking if the plane could fly
at an altitude of at least 1,000 feet; if the speed could be greater
than hitherto mentioned. Then the next day there would be a request
for greater weight-carrying capacity. The Wrights, slow as always
to make rash promises, said frankly that they had never flown much
higher than 100 feet, but that the plane could fly at much more than
1,000 feet, though they would probably need additional practice before
making a demonstration. They could increase either the speed or the
weight-carrying capacity, too; but it would not be easy to do both in
the same machine--no more than one could produce a draft horse and a
race horse in the same animal.