Katharine. After the Wrights had been in Europe a few weeks they became
world heroes, and when they went to Pau their demonstrations were
visited by thousands of people from all parts of Europe--by kings and
lesser men, but I don’t think the excitement and interest produced by
their extraordinary feat had any effect on them at all.”
XVI
FURTHER ADVENTURES IN 1909
Shortly after they were established at Pau, the Wrights received a call
from a German, Captain Alfred Hildebrandt. This was not the first time
he had tried to see them. He had stopped in Dayton, on his way homeward
after attending the international balloon races at St. Louis, in 1907;
but on reaching Dayton he learned that the Wrights were in Europe.
Captain Hildebrandt came to Pau on behalf of a newspaper publisher.
His principal was Herr Scherl, owner of the _Lokal Anzeiger_, a
leading paper in Berlin. Scherl thought it would be a great stroke
of advertising for his paper if he could arrange for a big public
demonstration of a Wright machine, with the general public invited to
be the paper’s guests. It was arranged that one of the Wrights should
make a series of flights at Berlin, later that year, for a substantial
fee. The brothers later decided that the Berlin flights should be made
by Orville.
A move had been started in Italy to have demonstrations of the Wright
plane in Rome. Dr. Pirelli, Italian tire manufacturer, who had flown
with Wilbur Wright at Le Mans, was believed to have made the first
suggestion that led to organizing an aviation club at Rome to buy a
Wright plane. This “club” was supposed to be backed at least partly by
the Italian Government, and the arrangement with the Wrights provided
for the training of two lieutenants, one from the Navy, the other from
the Army.
Parts and material for six new planes had already been shipped to
Europe from Dayton, and the parts for one of these were sent to Pau,
where they were built into a complete machine. The machine was then
taken down in sections and shipped to Rome. (The one used in the French
flights became the personal property of Lazare Weiller, organizer of
the French Wright company, and later it went to a museum in Paris.)
In April the Wrights returned from Pau to Paris, and after a brief stay
there Wilbur went to Rome. He was joined there later by Orville and
Katharine, who went to a hotel opposite the Barberini Palace. Count and
Countess di Celleri, of the Italian nobility, had a cottage adjoining
their villa near the flying field at Centocelle, and they offered it to
Wilbur. Countess di Celleri later felt more than repaid when she had a
passenger flight in the Wright plane.
When the machine shipped from Pau in sections arrived in Rome it was
reassembled in an automobile factory, just outside the city limits, on
the Flaminian Way. It was then moved across the city on a truck drawn
by a magnificent team of gray horses to a military field in Centocelle.
As the strange-looking machine was carried through Roman streets past
ancient ruins, it is doubtful if amazed beholders had ever seen a
greater contrast between old and new.
Almost immediately after his arrival, Wilbur began the training of the
Italian flyers, naval Lieutenant Calderara and Lieutenant Savoia, of
the army engineering corps. (Calderara was afterward the air attaché
at the Italian Embassy in Washington; and Lieutenant Savoia became the
head of the well-known Italian aviation company of that name.)
King Victor Emmanuel came to witness flights. As he strolled about the
field with a folding camera suspended from his shoulder, he might have
been mistaken for just one more tourist. Other sightseers who came to
the field were the elder J. P. Morgan and the famous railroader, James
J. Hill. Among those who made flights with Wilbur were Lloyd Griscom,
the American Ambassador, and Sonnino, former Premier of Italy. Soon
after that, for the first time, an operator took a motion picture from
an airplane in flight.
While at Rome the Wrights established friendship with another German,
Captain von Kehler, whom they had already met in Berlin, and he played
an important part in steps toward forming a Wright company in Germany.
Captain von Kehler was managing director of the Studien Gesellschaft,
an organization for the study of aeronautics, that had been formed
after a meeting between certain outstanding German industrialists and
the Kaiser, back in 1906. The Kaiser had called the representatives of
the Krupps and other powerful industrialists to Potsdam to give them
a big banquet at the close of which he said he thought Germany should
be looking into the possibilities of the development of the airship
(lighter-than-air). Just what should be done he did not pretend to
know. That problem, he said, he would turn over to them. They knew
what he meant. They, as a patriotic duty, must provide money for
research and experimentation in the lighter-than-air field or else lose
standing with their Kaiser. Thus did the Studien Gesellschaft come into
being. The organization began experiments by building a dirigible known
as the Parseval, named for its designer, Major Parseval. The Parseval
turned out to be an expensive experiment. At the end of two years
the subscribed funds were nearly exhausted and the project far from
completion. The subscribers began to fear another invitation to dinner.
Just at this time they began to hear reports about the aeroplane
flights of the Wrights in France, and they became much interested. It
occurred to them that experiments with the new flying-machine would
perhaps be less expensive than experiments with a dirigible, and that
prospects for the aeroplane might be greater than for the dirigible.
Captain von Kehler went to Rome to talk with the Wrights. He told them
that some of the wealthy men in the Studien Gesellschaft would like
to form a German Wright company. Before he left Rome, a preliminary
contract was signed. Its terms provided that the brothers should
receive cash, a block of stock in the company, and ten per cent royalty
on all planes sold. The final contract was closed in August, 1909.
After leaving Rome the Wrights made a brief stay in Paris and went to
Le Mans to receive a bronze art piece presented by the Aéro Club of the
Sarthe. The work in bronze, by Louis Carvin, showed the Wright brothers
at the edge of a chasm gazing upon an eagle in flight. Above them was
a winged figure--the spirit of aviation.
From France the Wrights went to London. There they received gold medals
from the Aeronautical Society of Great Britain and from the Aero Club
of the United Kingdom at formal banquets. Before going to these dinners
Griffith Brewer was describing to Wilbur some of the people he would
meet. Of one man he said: “You’ll readily recognize him, as he is the
ugliest man in the Aeronautical Society.” To which Wilbur replied:
“He’ll lose that distinction on this occasion, because now there will
be a pair of us.”
On their arrival in New York the Wrights attended a luncheon in their
honor given by the Aero Club of America. The Aero Club had awarded
medals to the Wrights and these were formally presented a month later
by President Taft at the White House.
After an absence of many months, the Wrights arrived in Dayton early in
May. Five weeks later the city had a great celebration in their honor.
The home town had now recognized the Wrights’ importance. This “home
coming” for the Wrights lasted two days, June 17 and 18.
At 9 o’clock on that morning of June 17, they heard a deafening sound.
It did not at once occur to them what it was. Every factory whistle in
Dayton was blowing and every bell ringing--all in their honor. This
continued for ten minutes. Bands were playing and cannons booming. At
10 o’clock the brothers rode in a carriage, escorted by bands, to the
opening events. Ed Sines, boyhood chum of Orville, and Ed Ellis, long a
friend of Wilbur, were in the carriage with them. Sines and Ellis, as
a practical joke, gleefully shook hands, as if _they_ were the heroes,
with all who tried to greet the Wrights along the route, and few knew
the difference.
After reviewing a parade in their honor that afternoon, the Wrights
returned to their shop. That night they had opportunity to see a
display of fireworks that included their own profiles, eight feet high,
entwined with an American flag.
During these two days, practically all business in Dayton was
suspended--except the sale of souvenir postal cards showing the Huffman
pasture, the Hawthorne Street home, the flying field at Le Mans,
France, and the parade ground at Fort Myer.
On the second day, the inventors’ father, Bishop Wright, gave the
invocation preceding the presentation of medals to his sons. One medal
that had been ordered by act of Congress was presented by General
James Allen, chief signal officer of the Army; another, by the Ohio
legislature, was presented by Governor Harmon; and a third from the
city of Dayton was presented by the Mayor. The Wrights were alongside
of 2,500 school children, dressed in red, white and blue, to represent
an immense American flag. Patriotic fervor ran high.
The home folk knew now that the Wrights could fly; they knew, too, that
international fame had not changed them. They were the same unassuming
pair they had always been.
Before the celebration was quite over, Wilbur and Orville took a train
to Washington. The time for completing those Government trials at Fort
Myer was approaching and there was much to be done.
Orville made his first flight on June 28, and finished on July 30.
One of the most memorable of the flights in this series was on that
final day when Orville, with an Army officer, Lieutenant Benjamin D.
Foulois, for passenger, made the first cross-country trip yet made in
an airplane, a total distance of about ten miles to Alexandria and
return--without any suitable landing spots if trouble had occurred.
This was the speed test. The machine now used was capable of about four
miles an hour greater speed than the one in the tests the previous
year. The turning point in Alexandria was at Shuter’s Hill, where a
Masonic temple now stands. A captive balloon floated above the hill,
and a telegraph line had been run to the top of the hill where an
operator was stationed to give a signal when Orville had passed that
point. But a strong wind that day blew down the telegraph line and also
kept the balloon so close to the ground that Orville could not see the
turning point in advance and covered more than the required distance.
As the plane passed out of sight for a time on the return trip, the
crowd feared the worst; but when it reappeared, headed back toward the
parade ground, the honking of automobile horns and excited cheering
indicated that everyone knew they had all seen an extraordinary
event. The time for the ten miles was fourteen minutes, or just under
forty-three miles an hour. Thus the Wrights got a bonus of $5,000 more
than the basic price agreed upon--ten per cent for each complete mile
per hour more than forty--and they received $30,000 for the machine.
Almost immediately after the Fort Myer trials and formal acceptance
of the machine, on August 2, by the United States Government, Orville
Wright, accompanied by his sister Katharine, set out for Berlin.
Orville would start training a flyer for the German Wright company
immediately after giving the exhibition arranged for by Captain
Hildebrandt on behalf of the _Lokal Anzeiger_.
These first flights in Germany were to be made at Tempelhof field,
then a military parade ground, at the outskirts of Berlin. On the day
set for the initial flight, there was a terrible wind and Captain
Hildebrandt, who accompanied Orville to the field, was torn between his
desire not to disappoint the crowd and his fear of seeing Orville take
too great a risk. Orville said he would follow Hildebrandt’s wishes.
“No,” said Hildebrandt, “don’t go up.”
The next day even more people were present. Orville made a flight of
fifteen minutes. When he landed it was difficult to keep the crowd from
almost smothering him with adulation. People clamored for a chance
not only to look at him up close, but to _touch_ him. Men, women, and
children struggled to lay gentle hands on him, even to touch his sleeve
or the hem of his coat. Evidently it was some kind of belief in the
desirability of physical contact with a miracle man.
After a later flight, when Orville stayed in the air fifty-five
minutes, the crowd about him and Katharine, who were accompanied by Mr.
and Mrs. Charles R. Flint, was so dense that Orville felt duty bound to
move as fast as he could away from his party, to relieve the pressure
on them. Thereafter a hollow square of German soldiers kept the crowd
at a safe distance.
The German Crown Prince, Frederick Wilhelm, sought to get in touch with
Orville to ask the privilege of seeing a flight. He telephoned to the
Wrights’ suite at the Hotel Esplanade, and the call was answered by a
young German woman whom Katharine Wright had employed as interpreter
when shopping.
When the girl discovered that the voice over the phone was that of a
member of the royal family, she dropped the telephone receiver and
almost fainted. Members of the hotel staff were not much less agitated
when they learned that royalty might be calling on two of their guests.
Orville Wright and his sister were invited by Kaiser Wilhelm himself
to be present--the only civilian guests--on August 29, when Count von
Zeppelin would make the first trip in his latest model airship from
Friedrichshafen, and land at Tegel field, Berlin.
When he met Count von Zeppelin, Orville offered to take him for
an airplane ride the next day. The Count, after expressing his
appreciation, pleaded lack of time. But he invited Orville to accompany
him in the airship on a trip, September 5, from Frankfort to Mannheim,
and Orville accepted. In the course of that trip, Orville, by using a
stop-watch in his pocket and counting telephone poles, was able to tell
if the reported speed of the ship was correct. (When the Wrights were
in Europe in 1907, they had seen flights by government-owned dirigibles
in more than one country, and had noted that the German ship, _Der
Gross_, was the only one that made the speed claimed for it. All they
needed to learn was the length of the airship. Then by sighting on the
corner of a building, while using a stop-watch, they could tell to the
fraction of a second how long it took for the ship to travel its own
length.)
On the airship’s arrival at Mannheim, the crowd was so great that
Orville soon became separated from Captain Hildebrandt, who had come
along as his interpreter. Here he was, not knowing much German,
supposed to be guest of honor at a luncheon, and he didn’t even recall
the name of the hotel where the affair was to be held. A member of
the committee in charge of the luncheon decided that Orville would
doubtless make his way to the center of the city, in search of the
right hotel, and that there was just one way to locate him--to drive
about the principal streets until he caught sight of him. This man had
never met Orville but he felt sure he would recognize him from pictures
he had seen. The plan, to Orville’s immense relief, succeeded.
On September 16, Orville raised the world’s altitude record from 100 to
172 meters. Two days later, he made a new world’s record for a flight
with a passenger. Accompanied by Captain Paul Englehardt, he flew for
one hour, thirty-five minutes, forty-seven seconds.
Toward the end of his stay in Germany, Orville’s flights were at
Bornstedt field, near Potsdam. It was there that he trained two pilots
for the German Wright company--Captain Englehardt and Herr Keidel.
Since his first meeting with Orville, the German Crown Prince had
made no secret of his eager desire to fly as a passenger. As early as
September 9, Orville had made a special flight of fifteen minutes for
the Crown Prince to witness. Though he was willing enough to oblige
the Crown Prince by taking him for a passenger flight, he hesitated
to do so, lest it might be disapproved by the Kaiser, and he made one
excuse after another for delay. He had been warned that if he took
the Crown Prince as passenger against the Kaiser’s wishes, then he
might immediately become _persona non grata_. The prudent thing to do,
it seemed to Orville, was to give members of the royal family plenty
of notification. Different members of the family came to Bornstedt
field from time to time, and when he met any of them Orville was sure
to remark that he and the Crown Prince were going to have a flight
together before long. As no one made any objection, the German Crown
Prince finally became, on October 2, the first member of a royal family
ever to ride in an airplane. On landing, the Crown Prince handed to
Orville, as a token of appreciation, a jeweled stick-pin--a crown set
in rubies, with a “W” in diamonds. (The “W” was not for Wright, but for
Wilhelm, the Crown Prince’s name.)
On that same day, Orville ascended 1,600 feet for a new--though
unofficial--world’s altitude record.
Orville’s farewell ascent in Germany was a twenty-five-minute flight,
October 15, for Kaiser Wilhelm to see. The Kaiser was enthusiastic and
frankly so. He was outspoken in expressing his belief that the airplane
might revolutionize warfare, and talked about the different military
uses to which the machine could be put. One thing that impressed him
was the maneuverability of the plane. Orville had made complete turns
within a space not much more than 100 feet wide.
Now, during the time that Orville was making these sensational
demonstrations in Germany, Wilbur Wright, in America, had been doing
his share to glorify the brotherly partnership. On September 29, in
connection with the Hudson-Fulton Celebration, Wilbur made spectacular
flights witnessed by millions of people. Two of these were over
Governors Island; and another was from Governors Island around the
Statue of Liberty and back again. On October 4, Wilbur flew twenty-one
miles from Governors Island up the Hudson River beyond Grant’s Tomb and
back to the starting point. It was one of the most daring flights yet
made in an airplane, and Wilbur had taken the precaution to buy a red
canoe which he roped to the lower part of the plane. The part of the
canoe ordinarily open was covered with canvas to make it water-tight.
Wilbur’s idea was that if anything went wrong the canoe might possibly
serve as a buoy, or pontoon, to keep the machine afloat. In going up
the river he flew over ferryboats, and hot gases from the smokestacks
did cause the plane to make what looked like dangerous plunges.
A second flight was planned for that afternoon, and everyone who could
exert influence had applied for a pass to the military reservation on
Governors Island. But they were disappointed, for the engine blew a
cylinder and that brought the series of flights to a close.
Almost immediately after his flights for the Hudson-Fulton Celebration,
Wilbur began preparations to train two Army Signal Corps officers, as
provided for in the contract for the sale of a plane to the United
States Government. This was done at College Park, Maryland, near
Washington. The men trained were Lieutenants Frank P. Lahm and Frederic
E. Humphreys. Their instruction began on October 8 and was completed
October 26. Lieutenant Lahm, who had been the first army officer
ever to fly as a passenger in a plane, received the first lesson in
pilotage. But Humphreys made the first solo flight, a few minutes
before Lahm’s.
Wilbur also gave some lessons to Lieutenant Benjamin D. Foulois between
October 23 and 27.
Orville and Katharine Wright sailed from Europe on the _Adriatic_, due
in New York November 4. After leaving Germany, Orville had investigated
the outlook of the recently formed French company. Already it appeared
that this company would be a disappointment. Count de Lambert had given
the company the best kind of advertising by flying a Wright plane over
Paris, around and above the Eiffel Tower. But the French Wright company
evidently was depending more on political influence and on entertaining
important people than on sound salesmanship. The War Ministry hesitated
to buy planes for fear of public criticism. General Picquart, the Army
officer who had stood for justice in the Dreyfus case, had become
Minister of War. He once inquired of the Wrights if it would be
possible to buy their planes directly from them in the United States.
That would have been against provisions of the contract with the
company in France, but there was another reason why it could not be
done. The Wrights were not yet organized to produce planes in great
numbers. Though there were now two commercial companies for the
manufacture of Wright planes in Europe, no such company yet existed in
America.
XVII
IN AVIATION BUSINESS
After companies to manufacture the Wright brothers’ invention had
been organized in France and Germany, and a plane had been sold in
Italy, it might have been expected that important business people in
the United States would see commercial possibilities in the Wright
patents. The inventors had, indeed, received offers. One proposal had
come from two brothers, in Detroit, influential stockholders in the
Packard Automobile Company, Russell A. and Frederick M. Alger--who some
time before had been the first in the United States to order a Wright
machine for private use. But the first American company to manufacture
the plane was promoted by a mere youngster.
That was Clinton R. Peterkin. He was barely twenty-four and looked even
younger. Only a year or two previously he had been with J. P. Morgan &
Company as “office boy”--a job he had taken at the age of fifteen. But
he had intelligently made the most of his opportunities by spending all
the time he could in the firm’s inner rooms, and had learned something
of how new business enterprises were started.
Now, recently returned from a stay in the West because of ill health,
Peterkin wished to be a promoter, and he wondered if the Wright
brothers would agree to the formation of a flying-machine company. By
chance he learned that Wilbur Wright was spending a few days at the
Park Avenue Hotel in New York, and in October, 1909, he went to see him.
Wilbur was approachable enough and received Peterkin in a friendly
way, though he didn’t seem to set too much store by the young man’s
proposals. In reply to questions, Wilbur said that he and his brother
would not care to have a company formed unless those in it were men of
consequence. They would want names that carried weight. Then Peterkin
spoke of knowing J. P. Morgan, whom he might be able to interest.
Without making any kind of agreement or promise, Wilbur told him he
could go ahead and see what he could do--doubtless assuming that he
would soon become discouraged. But Peterkin saw J. P. Morgan who told
him he would take stock and that he would subscribe also for his friend
Judge Elbert H. Gary, head of the United States Steel Corporation.
After seeing Morgan, Peterkin was enthusiastically telling of his
project to a distant relative of his, a member of a law firm with
offices in the financial district. The senior partner in that law firm,
DeLancey Nicoll, chanced to overhear what Peterkin was saying and
grew interested. He suggested that perhaps he might be of help. That
was a good piece of luck for Peterkin. He could hardly have found a
better ally, for DeLancey Nicoll had an exceptionally wide and intimate
acquaintance among men in the world of finance. All he needed to do to
interest some of his friends was to call them on the telephone.