already stiff enough, and if they failed on any one of them, within the
allotted time, even if only on account of delay caused by accident,
their contract would be broken; but they felt sure of what they could
do and were willing to take the chance.
When the time limit for the deposit of the rest of the 1,000,000 francs
with J. P. Morgan expired, on April 5, the commission was recalled.
Before leaving Dayton the visitors expressed their own vexation over
the rejection by the Paris officials of their recommendations.
The members of the commission still believed, though, that when Bonel
and Fordyce were back in Paris and presented all the facts to the War
Ministry, there would be an extension of time and the deal carried out.
But it never was. The French Minister of War agreed, however, that the
Wrights were entitled to receive the forfeit money of 25,000 francs
held in escrow by J. P. Morgan & Co.
Before leaving Dayton, the Frenchmen said they believed they knew what
was back of the failure to close the deal. They said frankly that it
was probably the present attitude of Captain Ferber, the man who had
been instrumental in starting the negotiations. Ferber, they thought,
with the Moroccan question no longer pressing, had now decided that
with his knowledge of the Wright plane he could build one himself, and
so become the French pioneer in aviation--a greater honor than being
merely the instrument of introducing the aeroplane into France.
During the time the Frenchmen were at their hotel in Dayton, it might
have been expected that their presence would become known to local
newspapermen and that the world would have learned of what was going
on. To avoid attracting attention they had taken the precaution to
avoid the Hotel Algonquin where Fordyce had stayed on his earlier
visit, and were at the Beckel House. They were unmolested there until
an employee of one of the telegraph offices “tipped off” a reporter
friend. The telegrapher had noticed various cables in code going to
France and felt sure the Frenchmen must be carrying on an important
deal. A reporter nabbed Fordyce and Bonel one evening in the hotel
lobby on their return from a theater. As Bonel spoke no English,
Fordyce parried the reporter’s questions. He thought a plausible
explanation of their presence would be that they were studying the
water system of a typical American city. But what he said was that they
were studying Dayton’s “water pipes.” That satisfied as well as amused
the reporter and nothing about the French commission got into the
papers.
The local newspapermen had failed to note that, after Fordyce’s
previous visit, the New York _Herald_ of January 4 had printed a brief
item about his having seen the Wrights to discuss a contract. It never
occurred to anyone in Dayton that the Wright brothers could have
attracted visitors from across the Atlantic, for the Wrights still were
not “news.” If the Frenchmen had made a statement that they were there
dickering with the Wrights for a $200,000 contract, it is possible
that the local papers would not have printed it. They might not have
believed such a tale.
Only a few days after the French commission had left Dayton, another
foreign visitor dropped in on the Wrights--the Englishman, Patrick Y.
Alexander.
After some casual talk, he inquired with seeming innocence, as if just
to make conversation: “Is the French commission still here?”
The Wrights were startled. So great had been the secrecy about the
visit of the Frenchmen that not many even in the French Government were
permitted to know about their trip to Dayton. How did this mysterious
Britisher know about it? The Wrights assumed that he must have been a
volunteer worker in the British secret service. It was now obvious that
he had crossed the Atlantic for no other purpose than to call on the
Wrights and had hoped to burst in upon them while the Frenchmen were
still there. After a stay of only one day in Dayton he hastened back
to New York to sail on the next boat. His call made it all the more
clear that the British were then more interested in what other European
governments were doing about planes than in acquiring an air fleet of
their own.
Incredulity about the Wrights’ power flights continued at the Aéro Club
and in newspaper circles in France. In November, 1906, the Wrights
received a visitor in Dayton, Sherman Morse, representing the New York
_Herald_. His introduction was a cabled message to his managing editor
from the owner of the paper, James Gordon Bennett, in Paris. The
message said: Send one of your best reporters to Dayton to get truth
about Wright brothers’ reported flights.
The reporter got the truth and wrote intelligent articles that
appeared in the New York _Herald_. These included reports of men who
had witnessed flights. Parts of the Morse articles appeared in the
_Herald’s_ Paris edition on November 22 and 23. But evidently those in
charge of the Paris _Herald_ still were not convinced by the reports
from Dayton by their own man. On November 28, the Paris _Herald_ had an
editorial about the Wrights which included the statement that in Europe
curiosity about their machine was “clouded with skepticism owing to the
fact that information regarding the invention is so small while the
results which its inventors claim to have achieved are so colossal.”
And the next day, the Paris _Herald_ gave space to a news item in which
Santos-Dumont was reported as saying that he “did not find any evidence
of their [the Wrights] having done anything at all.”
Late in 1906, Frank S. Lahm, who had cabled his brother-in-law, Weaver,
to make an investigation, was in the United States, and he, accompanied
by Weaver, went on November 22 to see the Wrights in Dayton. He was
convinced, of course, that their statements could be relied upon, but
he made further investigation of his own, interviewing witnesses not
previously seen by Weaver. After his return to Paris, he prepared a
long letter to the Paris _Herald_, in which he expressed his belief
in the reported flights. The newspaper devoted a column to the Lahm
letter on February 10, 1907. But having distrusted what their own
representative had written, it was not to be expected that the editors
would give full belief to what Lahm now told them. In the same issue
as his letter, was an editorial headed “Flyers or Liars.” “The Wrights
have flown or they have not flown,” the paper profoundly stated. “They
possess a machine or they do not possess one. They are in fact either
flyers or liars.... It is difficult to fly; it is easy to say ‘we have
flown.’”
XII
THE WRIGHTS IN EUROPE
The Wrights were at work in 1906 developing a new engine having
vertical instead of horizontal cylinders. Though they were doing no
flying, brief references to them occasionally appeared in newspapers.
These caught the attention of a New York businessman, U. S. Eddy, who
thought the Wrights and their patents might be of interest to Charles
R. Flint & Company, New York bankers and promoters. Eddy was a former
partner of Flint in a shipping line and knew that they were constantly
on the lookout for new inventions worthy of their consideration. Partly
to do a favor for an old friend and associate, he decided to go to
Dayton for a talk with the Wrights.
Eddy arrived in Dayton on Thanksgiving Day and saw the Wrights the next
day. They did not discuss business at this meeting. Eddy simply got
acquainted with them, and satisfied himself that any statements they
made about their invention could be depended upon; but he did tell them
he felt sure the Flint firm would be much interested in helping them to
develop the machine’s financial possibilities.
The Wrights left Dayton on December 5 for New York, to attend an
exhibit to be given by the newly formed Aero Club of America.
Before leaving New York they went with Eddy to meet F. R. Cordley,
a member of the Flint firm. At this time Flint was in Europe, but
the Wrights met him in New York not long afterward. Flint was often
over-enthusiastic about new projects, and Cordley was the more cautious
member of the firm. His job was to hold Flint in check. But he, as well
as Flint and other associates, was favorably impressed by the Wrights,
and they began to talk business. On December 26, 1906, George H.
Nolte, an employee of the firm, went to Dayton to work out preliminary
details. At first the Flints spoke of the possibility of buying all
European rights to the airplane; but the deal finally made was that the
Flints should be the Wrights’ business representatives, on a twenty
per cent commission basis, in all countries except the United States.
A year or two later it was agreed that the Wrights should manage their
own affairs also in Great Britain and its colonies.
The Flints proposed that they would have the Czar of Russia, and
certain other crowned heads, request private demonstrations of the
flying-machine. But the Wrights were not impressed by such suggestions
and in a letter to the Flints said they thought it would be better for
them to “look the ground over first before making arrangements with the
Czar.”
The Flints had an associate in Europe, Hart O. Berg, who, in 1899, had
helped to introduce American electric automobiles on the continent. He
had acted, too, for Simon Lake, inventor of the submarine, in dealing
with Russia and other foreign governments. They thought Berg might be
able to start negotiations for forming a European Wright company. But
Berg, not knowing the Wrights, and feeling scant confidence in what
they were reported to have done, was less than lukewarm over the idea.
Flint suggested that it would be well for at least one of the Wrights
to go to Europe, with expenses paid, to discuss their invention with
Berg and give him more faith in it. The Wrights themselves, said Flint,
could do more than anyone else to implant in Berg the wholehearted
enthusiasm he would need to convince possible buyers.
On May 15, 1907, a telegram came from the Flint office urging that one
of the Wrights should start to Europe at once. Wilbur “grabbed a few
things” and prepared to go to New York the next day, to sail on the
_Campania_. As he planned to tarry abroad only a short time--only long
enough to convince Berg--his baggage consisted of one suit case. He
would stop first in England for a brief stay before going to Paris.
Wilbur was to land in Liverpool on a Saturday. Berg, eager to see
one of the Wrights face to face and settle in his own mind if these
inventors were really dependable, went to London to meet him.
“I knew him the minute he stepped from the train,” said Berg long
afterward. “To begin with, it is always easy to spot an American among
Englishmen, and I saw no other American coming down the platform. But
even if there had been other Americans I’m sure I would have known
which one was Wilbur Wright. There was a modest self-assurance about
him that tallied with his character as I had heard about it.”
After the first greetings, Berg said: “Now let’s see about picking up
the rest of your luggage.”
But Wilbur smilingly explained that the one suit case was all he had
brought.
On the way to the hotel, Wilbur decided that it might be advisable for
him to buy a suit of evening clothes and they went at once to a tailor
shop on the Strand.
It didn’t take Berg long to convince himself that Wilbur Wright was no
slicker, but decidedly on the level, and that if he said his machine
would fly, then it must be true.
A day after their first meeting, Berg and Wilbur were joined by F. R.
Cordley, of the Flint firm, in Europe on a vacation trip, and the three
went to Paris together. They “descended,” as the French say, at the
Hotel Meurice, on the rue de Rivoli.
It was still broad daylight when they arrived and Berg almost
immediately led Wilbur across the street into the Tuileries gardens.
They strolled to the Place de la Concorde and looked up the length of
the magnificent Avenue des Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe. The
horse chestnut trees were still in blossom, and Berg, a resident of
Paris during most of his life, was feeling happy over the opportunity
to show this stranger his first glimpse of the most beautiful city on
earth at its loveliest season.
Before he had been long in Paris, Wilbur attended a balloon meet at St.
Cloud, and a few days later made his first trip in a balloon.
A Paris _Herald_ reporter, who talked with Wilbur at St. Cloud, was
impressed by his reticence and made this statement: “Mr. Wright talked
carefully, as if all was mapped out in advance. It was obvious that
he feared to be caught in a trap concerning his remarkable machine
and what he wants to do with it. At the end of each question his
clean-shaven face relapsed into a broad, sphinx-like smile.”
It now seemed wise to try to form a company to buy European rights to
the airplane, or to sell the rights to a private financier, rather than
to deal with the Government, through politicians; and a wealthy man had
become interested: M. Henri Deutsch de la Meurthe, an oil magnate, who
had also been a patron of ballooning.
When Wilbur Wright met Deutsch de la Meurthe, the latter, a cautious
trader, said that before investing any money he wanted to make sure the
French Government would be interested in buying airplanes.
Wilbur then decided that it would be both discourteous and imprudent
not to have a talk with Letellier or Fordyce, with whom there
had been previous negotiations, and let them know what was going
on--particularly since Deutsch de la Meurthe was known to have close
relations with _Le Matin_, a rival of Letellier’s newspaper, _Le
Journal_. He got in touch with Fordyce, and told him a little of the
current situation. Shortly afterward, Letellier invited Wilbur to
lunch. Letellier seemed indignant that the Wrights had not resumed
negotiations with him. Wilbur told him he could doubtless be included
if a company should be formed. But that didn’t suit Letellier. He
didn’t care to join a company organized by Deutsch de la Meurthe; if
a company was formed he wanted to be the prime mover in it himself.
He said nothing, however, about interfering with efforts being made
to form a company--possibly because he thought they would not be
successful.
Deutsch de la Meurthe now went to call upon the Minister of Marine,
with whom he was well acquainted, and was escorted by him to meet the
Minister of War, General Picquart, a hero of the Dreyfus case.
General Picquart was not familiar with what had previously been
done regarding the possible purchase of a Wright machine, as the
negotiations had been carried on during the regime of his predecessor.
But he had Commandant Bonel bring the records to him and when he
looked them over was impressed by the fact that the Wrights’ invention
had been considered seriously. No less impressed was Deutsch de la
Meurthe. General Picquart said he realized the importance of the Wright
invention and was disposed to take favorable action toward buying
planes, provided the Wrights would guarantee that their machine could
fly at a height of 300 meters.
That was enough encouragement for Deutsch de la Meurthe. In fact,
he became highly enthusiastic over the outlook. He had not before
appreciated the seriousness of the previous negotiations. Now he began
to talk about details of the articles of incorporation of a proposed
company.
Commandant Bonel was elated over the news that his government might at
last be buying Wright airplanes. His pride and prestige had been hurt
by the failure of his recommendations to be accepted. Moreover, for
patriotic reasons, he wanted the French Army to be the first to adopt
what he regarded as an epoch-making new invention. Now that the outlook
was once again more favorable, he was in a communicative mood when he
chanced to meet Fordyce, with whom he had traveled to Dayton.
Fordyce showed his surprise at what Bonel told him. He went at once to
tell this news to his employer, M. Letellier. Now Letellier expressed
great indignation. He had an agreement in writing, he said, that if the
War Ministry bought any Wright airplanes the purchase should be made
through _Le Journal_, and any departure from that plan he must construe
as an unfriendly and illegal act. Immediately he went to the office of
the Minister of War where with great politeness he showed to General
Picquart a letter obtained from his predecessor.
Since the option the Wrights had given to Fordyce had expired, the
agreement between the War Ministry and Letellier was no longer in
force. But General Picquart, if he understood that, after a hasty
examination of the records, did not argue the point. Possibly he was
too practical a politician to enter a controversy with an influential
publisher. At any rate, he asked Deutsch de la Meurthe to withdraw from
the negotiations.
It was Deutsch de la Meurthe’s turn to be indignant. He believed at
first that the Wrights had simply used him for a tool. But later, when
he understood the facts and saw that the Wrights were not to blame for
what had happened, he once more was friendly with them.
The Wrights saw that their most promising opportunity for an immediate
contract was through Letellier and _Le Journal_. Consequently,
Fordyce, representing that newspaper, came back into the picture.
Within a day or two after negotiations were thus resumed, Fordyce came
to Berg in an apologetic mood, showing deep embarrassment. He said he
had been asked to submit a proposal that it hardly seemed worth while
to discuss at all; and yet he had no choice but to convey a message,
as had been requested of him, by a man high in government circles. The
deal might go through at once, said Fordyce, but there would have to be
a little re-wording of the contract. The Wrights must not ask 1,000,000
francs but 1,250,000 francs. Then they would receive their million
francs.
Berg knew well enough what would happen when he told this to Wilbur.
There would be no objection to having the contract call for more
money than the Wrights were to receive, said Wilbur calmly, _but_
the contract must give the name of the man who would receive that
additional sum.
Berg went to the office of the man who had communicated, by way of
Fordyce, the astounding suggestion. He hoped there had been some
misunderstanding. But to Berg’s astonishment and disgust, the man
said with shocking candor that he would indeed expect 250,000 francs
($50,000) as his reward for putting through the deal.
Before indignantly walking out of the man’s office, Berg told him the
Wrights would never be a party to such financial irregularity and that
the negotiations with the Minister of War would have to be carried on
without the co-operation of anyone in the Government who expected to
be paid for his efforts. (After the first World War that same man was
tried for treason.)
Meanwhile, Wilbur had cabled to Orville to join him in Paris. And with
the prospect that it might be necessary to make a demonstration of what
the Wright machine could do, a plane was crated and shipped from Dayton
to France.
Orville arrived in Paris around the first of August, and the Wright’s
chief mechanic, Charlie Taylor, came about a week later.
While crossing the Atlantic, Orville had a talk with another passenger
that illustrates his possession of a freakish kind of memory. An
Englishman had been introduced to him and, after a few moments of
conversation, Orville asked if they had not met before. No, the
Englishman said, they had not. He had no recollection of any previous
meeting, and he was sure if there had been one he would remember it.
The man’s face was not familiar, but there was something about his
voice and gestures that somehow stirred in Orville old memories.
Finally, Orville inquired:
“Were you by any chance at the World’s Fair in Chicago back in 1893?”
The Englishman nodded.
“And,” asked Orville, “did you ever have occasion to explain to a
bystander some kind of device at one of the exhibits?”
Yes, that also might have happened.
“There,” said Orville, much relieved that his memory had not played
him tricks, “must have been where I saw you. I felt sure I couldn’t be
mistaken about your voice.”
After Orville had joined Wilbur at the Hotel Meurice, the brothers
did not find their business affairs too pressing to do a lot of
sight-seeing. Neither one spoke French, but Orville had acquired a fair
reading knowledge of it. Oddly enough, Wilbur, who had learned Greek
and Latin easily, made no effort to learn French. He jokingly said it
was a convenience not to know it, as it saved him from a lot of talking.
As they went about their sight-seeing, Wilbur, always a reader of
history, was especially fascinated by all places of historic interest.
Orville found himself spending much time each day in the Louvre. Those
days gave him an appreciation of good paintings that he never lost.
Negotiations with the French Government dragged on. For weeks the
Wrights were kept in uncertainty. They never saw any of the people they
were dealing with. Their only contact with anyone at the War Ministry
was through Fordyce, and they had no way of knowing, except from what
he told them, whether any progress was being made.
Nothing came of the long negotiations. The Wrights were not alone in
being disappointed. Commandant Bonel, not long afterward, perhaps as
a consequence of the failure of his recommendations to be accepted,
resigned from the Army.
Late in the summer of 1907, the Wrights left Paris. Orville went first
to London, at the suggestion of Flint & Co. to have a talk with the
receiver of the Barnum & Bailey circus and the Buffalo Bill Wild West
Show, then in bankruptcy. The receiver wondered if the Wright plane
could be flown within an enclosure where an admission fee could be
charged.
Wilbur Wright had set out with Berg for St. Petersburg. They changed
their minds about going to Russia, however, and, instead, stopped at
Berlin where Orville shortly afterward joined them.
As the train on which Wilbur and Berg traveled was passing through
Belgium, Wilbur noticed a sign indicating that they were in the little
town of Jemappes. Then he recalled that a great battle took place there
back in 1792. He began to discuss the battle with an exact knowledge
of details that astounded Berg. Wilbur had read about it in his youth.
Over and over again, Berg and others who dealt with Wilbur Wright, were
similarly impressed not only by the range of his reading but by the
fact that no knowledge he had once acquired ever seemed to grow dim.
In Berlin, the brothers were able to gain direct contact with top
flight men--with the minister of the Kaiser’s war department,[8] and
also with the minister of the department of transportation. These
German officials were highly intelligent and not slow about recognizing
the tremendous importance of the Wright machine if it would perform as
the brothers said it could. The Wrights had proposed a contract in
which they would agree to furnish a machine capable of carrying, at a
speed of forty miles an hour, two men and a supply of fuel for a flight
of 125 miles, and to make a demonstration flight of one hour fulfilling
every requirement of the contract before one pfennig should be paid to
them. The German officials could not deny the fairness of this offer,
and could see no reason why the Wrights should have made it unless they
could carry it out. Besides, they were not altogether unacquainted
with the earlier work of the Wright brothers, accounts of whose glider
and power flights had been appearing for five or six years in German
technical publications. But in spite of all this the officials were
in a quandary. They could not bring themselves to believe that what
the Wrights now offered could be possible. They were afraid to sign
their names to a contract that generally would be considered as foolish
as a contract for a perpetual motion machine. They might become the
laughingstock of the world.