by Les Harding
The pilot had little control. Selfridge, lodged in the centre of hundreds of flapping red silk cells, could see virtually nothing. If the kite was tipped to one side by an unexpected wind, all the pilot could do was shift his body weight in the hope of straightening the Cygnet I. The pilot had no other means of control. Selfridge was especially brave, knowing he was more of a passenger than a pilot.
The Blue Hill steamed through the choppy waters of the Bras d’Or Lake pulling the boat that carried the Cygnet I. Everyone waited for a good wind. Then, without warning the Cygnet I caught a gust and soared into the air. Douglas was jubilant because, thanks to his efforts, a member of the Aerial Experiment Association was airborne. In less than a minute Thomas climbed to the dizzying height of 51 metres and attained a speed of 19 kilometres per hour. The kite sailed smoothly for about seven minutes. Suddenly, the Cygnet 1 pitched on its nose and hurtled downward out of control. As the kite neared the surface of the water, a cloud of black smoke from the steamer’s funnel blocked everyone’s view. The crewman on the Blue Hill who had been assigned the duty of cutting the tow line with an axe in case of trouble could not see the kite and so he did not cut the rope. No one was aware that the Cygnet I had crashed and was being dragged and bounced along the surface of the lake.
When the kite was reached, it was clear that Thomas was lucky to have survived. The only thing that saved him was that he had kicked off his heavy oilskin boots moments before the flight. It was bad enough to be dunked into the ice cold waters of the Bras d’Or Lake in December without being weighted down by water-filled boots.
The kite was wrecked but the experiment was a success: it proved a person could glide through the sky. As a result of the accident, the group felt further work with kites and gliders was needed before an engine could be placed on one.
As part of their next step, Douglas and the other associates decided to spend the winter in Hammondsport, New York, near Curtiss’s engine factory. Hammondsport was built on a lake and surrounded by snow-covered hills that would be perfect for gliding. The availability of snow was a very important consideration. A soft place to land – or crash – was a definite advantage.
During the first months of 1908, Douglas, Bell, Thomas, Casey and Curtiss constructed a small double-winged glider, which came to be known as the Hammondsport Glider. Constructed out of bamboo slats and nainsook, a soft cotton cloth, the Hammondsport Glider was as primitive an affair as one could imagine. Essentially, it was a pair of biplane wings fitted over the shoulders of the pilot, which left his legs free. The means of getting airborne was simple. With a man holding each wing tip for support, Douglas would fit himself into the wings, take a running leap off a hillside and hope for the best. Crack-ups were many but the deep banks of snow prevented any major injuries.
The biggest problem proved to be the craft’s instability. When a tail was added, control of the glider was improved dramatically. More than 50 flights were made, many of them covering as many as 35 metres, including one by Douglas of 91 metres.
Bell, a stickler for detail, insisted that careful notes be kept on everything that happened. The results of the experiments were recorded in the Aerial Experiment Association’s weekly bulletin. Gradually, the group compiled the knowledge needed to improve their flight experiments.
Although the Hammondsport Glider was destroyed in an accident in the spring of 1909, the associates now had considerable knowledge. They felt they were ready for powered flight.
The Aerial Experiment Association was formed in 1907 with the goal of “getting a man into the air.” Members of the Association are shown above. From left to right: Glenn Curtiss, F. W. “Casey” Baldwin, Alexander Graham Bell, Thomas Selfridge and J. A. D. (Douglas) McCurdy. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
While studying wind currents, Bell, Douglas and their associates developed kites of many different sizes and styles. The kite shown in this photo is certainly one of their more unusual shapes. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
The Cygnet is shown above preparing for one of its flights over frozen Baddeck Bay in February 1909. Douglas is the pilot in this picture. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historical Site, Baddeck, NS.)
The tetrahedral kite, the Cygnet, is shown while participating in an experiment to study wind current. The photo was taken on August 9, 1907. There was no pilot in the kite at this time but there would be three months later. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
The Blue Hill (the white steamer) is shown pulling the boat the Ugly Duckling on which rests the Cygnet I whose pilot was waiting for a gust of wind to take the kite into the air. The Cygnet I was made of 3,000 tetrahedral cells. This photo was taken December 6, 1907. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
Chapter 3
Success and Danger
The Aerial Experiment Association was set up so each of the associates could design his own airplane. But actually everyone helped each other. Douglas worked on all the projects, as did each of the other associates.
The associates’ first aircraft was Thomas Selfridge’s Red Wing. The name was derived from the red silk used to cover the wings. It was the same red silk left over from the Cygnet I. The Red Wing was a biplane with a thirteen-metre wingspan, tail, rudder, tubular iron runners to help in landing, and a kitchen chair with the legs cut off as a cockpit for the pilot. The craft had a propeller of galvanized sheet metal and was powered by a small air-cooled eight-cylinder motorcycle engine of only twenty horsepower.
The date set for the Red Wing’s first flight was March 12, 1908. There was so much excitement in the air that perhaps even the Red Wing itself was affected. As soon as the engine was started the Red Wing shot off down the ice of frozen Lake Keuka before anyone had time to climb into the cockpit! It even rose a metre or so into the air before settling down.
Fortunately, Douglas was wearing his skates. He raced after the runaway airplane, grabbed it by the tail and brought it back to the starting point.
The Wright Brothers, Wilbur and Orville, had been flying for several years in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, but always in private. By way of contrast, there were several hundred spectators on hand to see the Red Wing’s flight. It was the first public demonstration of flight in North America.
As Thomas was away at the time, someone else was needed to be the pilot. Douglas was keen for the honour himself, but the choice fell on his friend Casey. The reason for Casey’s selection had nothing to do with his piloting skill. Casey had forgotten his skates and could barely stand up on the ice. The cockpit of the Red Wing was the only “safe” place for him.
Casey climbed into the pilot’s seat and shouted, “Let’s go!” This time several men held the wings to hold the machine back, while the engine was revved up. At a signal, Douglas and his helpers released their grip and the Red Wing bounded forward. It roared along the ice for 45 metres and then rose smoothly into the air. Casey Baldwin had become the first Canadian to fly an airplane. He flew for about 100 metres, at an altitude of about 3 metres. Fortunately, there was no wind and so when the engine cut out Casey was able to glide to a safe landing.
Five days later on St. Patrick’s Day, Casey was again at the controls of the Red Wing, but this time he was not so lucky. As he came in for a landing a stiff breeze flipped the aircraft on its side. The Red Wing struck the ice with its wing and was destroyed. Miraculously, Casey escaped the accident unhurt. It was obvious to Douglas and the shaken Casey that some form of lateral control was needed. Shifting the pilot’s weight to compensate for the wind was not good enough.
The next machine in the air was Casey’s own White Wing. Covered with white silk, as the supply of red had been used up, the White Wing resembled the Red Wing but with several technical advancements. The machine was equipped with a throttle and a t
riangle undercarriage supported by pneumatic bicycle tires. But the most important innovation was the moveable wing tips called “little wings” or “ailerons.”
The aileron was undoubtedly Douglas and his associates’ greatest contribution to the story of flight. The principle was extremely simple. Straps were connected from the wing tips to the pilot’s shoulders by means of a yoke. If one wing began to dip in the wind, the pilot simply leaned in the opposite direction. The pull on the ailerons would stabilize the aircraft and compensate for the dip.
There is an interesting story of how the aileron came to be named. Henri Farman, a French aviator, was in New York City demonstrating an aircraft he had been racing in Europe. He made a flight down the length of a field, landed, had his airplane turned around by hand, took off again and flew back to his starting point. Douglas was curious as to why Farman had landed halfway through the air. The Frenchman was alarmed at the suggestion. “No, no! It was impossible,” he said. “The aircraft would tip over.” Douglas, who did not speak much French, had difficulty explaining to Farman his work on moveable wing tips. At last, Douglas said, “little wings.” “Ah, ailerons,” said Farman, translating Douglas’s words. Newspaper reporters, witnessing the discussion, spread the story and the new word.
It took two months to build the White Wing. Casey first flew it on May 18, 1908. Douglas at twenty-four years old was the youngest of the associates and had not yet flown an engine-powered machine. He made his first powered flight on May 23 – it was nearly his last. Apart from almost killing himself, he wrecked the White Wing beyond repair and came close to killing Thomas. It was not a very promising beginning for the man destined to become the greatest flyer of his time.
What happened was that with Douglas in the cockpit for the first time in his life, Thomas and his dog walked in front of the aircraft to determine the precise spot it would leave the ground. The engine was started and Douglas zoomed down the field. In his excitement Douglas did not see Thomas and aimed the rolling plane at him. Thomas dived to the ground as the White Wing roared over him with only centimetres to spare. Douglas vaguely remembered seeing a dog.
The flight was a success but the landing a disaster. Here is Douglas’ description of the accident:
It was a comparatively calm day, the wind only coming in puffs, but it was through one of these puffs that the machine met its Waterloo. Curtiss started the engine and, as in previous trials, a half dozen men held the plane till the engine was developing its full power. She then ran along the ground and left it so smoothly that I didn’t realize we were in the air.
The machine took a slight turn to the left and then curved round to the right. The wind blew about on the left quarter, and as she turned to the right, another puff elevated the left wing, depressing the right so much that it caught in the grass. I leaned to the high side with the idea of adjusting the tips so that righting could be produced, but as I was sitting too far forward, my back failed to engage the lever, which operates the tips, and so no right result was produced.
As the right wing struck the ground, the machine pivoted and the nose swung around and dug into the ground. I was deposited gently and without much of a jar on ground.
The machine turned a complete somersault almost over me, but left me free of debris.
The third AEA aircraft was Curtiss’s June Bug. This was the most successful. It was built solidly and never crashed, although flown more than one hundred times. Douglas made up for his calamitous beginning by becoming the most accomplished flyer of the group. He flew the June Bug on flights of up to 3 kilometres, an incredible distance for those days. On one flight he executed the very first figure eight.
During the summer of 1908, Douglas changed the June Bug’s name to Loon. He fitted the aircraft with two light pontoons, intending to convert it into a seaplane. It was an interesting attempt but proved unsuccessful. The aircraft was so underpowered that Douglas was unable to get the Loon into the air.
But while the group was having success, tragedy was about to strike. On a visit to Washington, Thomas Selfridge accepted an invitation to be a passenger in an airplane flown by Orville Wright. At a height of 25 metres the engine stalled; the aircraft nosed into a dive and crashed. Orville Wright was seriously injured; Thomas was killed – the first person to be killed in the crash of an airplane.
The June Bug had great success in 1908 at the AEA’s base in New York state. The plane was flown more than one hundred times without crashing. It also flew three kilometres with McCurdy as pilot. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
The pictures above show the Red Wing on March 17, 1908, before take off and crashing. Casey Baldwin, the pilot, survived the crash. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
The remaining wreckage of the Red Wing. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)
Chapter 4
The Silver Dart
The surviving members of the Aerial Experiment Association deeply felt the loss of Thomas, but the work had to continue – Thomas would have wanted it that way.
Now it was Douglas’s turn to design an airplane. He called his plane the Silver Dart. The “silver” in the name came from a coloured rubber compound applied to the wings and the “dart” because it seemed appropriate. The Silver Dart had a wingspan of 13 metres, weighed 436 kilograms and was powered by 35 horsepower water-cooled engine, the first of its kind in the world. While piloting the June Bug, Douglas had the frightening experience of having his engine fail in mid-air because of an excessive build up of heat. The water-cooled engine would hopefully prevent this from happening again.
The Silver Dart made its first flight in Hammondsport on December 6, 1908. Over the next few weeks, Douglas flew his plane nine times, once for a distance of 2 kilometres. But by now he was growing homesick for Nova Scotia, so he crated the Silver Dart and shipped it to Baddeck. When the Silver Dart reached the border, the Canadian customs official scratched their heads in disbelief. They did not know what to make of this strange contraption. In vain, they leafed through their rule books trying to find a category to place it under. Eventually they decided that the Silver Dart must be a luxury good and Douglas would have to pay a heavy duty. Douglas argued otherwise. With some misgivings, the customs officials relented. The Silver Dart was allowed to enter Canada duty-free but only because Douglas promised to take it out of the country in less than a year’s time.
On February 23, 1909, Douglas was ready to take the Silver Dart for its first flight in Baddeck. A local man, John MacDonald, used his horse and sleigh to tow the Silver Dart to a spot on the ice of the Bras d’Or Lake near a place called Fraser’s Pond.
It was a brisk and sunny winter’s day. There was excitement in the crowd of onlookers, as well as a good deal of scoffing disbelief. The area schools were adjourned for the day and the entire town of Baddeck was closed down to witness the event, if event it was to be. Though the flight was not scheduled until the afternoon, the crowd, many of who were on skates or in sleighs, had been gathering on the lake since the morning. Nervously, Douglas was making last-minute adjustments to his machine and looking at the weather. Most of all he was waiting for the arrival of Alexander Graham Bell. At three o’ clock, Dr. Bell, nearly buried in a massive fur coat, arrived by horse and sleigh. McCurdy climbed into the cockpit and was ready to go. Bell, ever cautious, suggested that he wait for a medical doctor to arrive – just in case. Dr. Dan MacDonald arrived a few minutes later. Douglas, wearing a stocking cap over his ears, gave the signal and waved the crowd off. Someone spun the propeller and the engine sputtered and coughed into life. A cloud of smoke and snow covered many of the onlookers who had not moved far enough away. Eight helpers held the aircraft in place while it built up sufficient power. At Douglas’s signal they let go and the Silver Dart raced across the ice – for 30 metres.
Much to the deligh
t of some members of the watching crowd, the Silver Dart had ground to a halt with a broken gasoline pump. Douglas, ignoring a few wisecracks, quickly repaired the damage and had the Silver Dart wheeled around and towed back to its starting position.
The Silver Dart was pointed into the wind for a second time. The propeller was cranked and the little engine revved up. When the helpers let go of their grip the Silver Dart leaped forward for about 50 metres and then ... sailed smoothly into the air.
The crowd went wild. A mob of men and boys on their skates chased after Douglas, disbelieving their eyes. They did not understand it, but there he was, a local boy from Baddeck flying through the air!
Douglas flew for about one kilometer, at a height of 20 metres and a speed of 65 kilometres per hour. The people of Baddeck – indeed, the people of Canada, had never seen anything like it before. John Alexander Douglas McCurdy had just made the first flight in Canada and the first anywhere in the British Empire. He was only the ninth person in the world to fly an airplane.
After scarcely more than a minute in the air, Douglas made a perfect three point landing and taxied to his starting point. The flight happened so quickly and unexpectedly that he had almost clipped one doubter who had started for home in his horse and sleigh.
The onlookers had been converted into believers and they wanted more. Douglas was ready to give it to them until Dr. Bell stood up in his sleigh and said that it would be best to call it a day. There was no reason to tempt fate. History had been made in Baddeck and that was enough for one day. McCurdy promised everyone that the Silver Dart would fly again tomorrow.
Bell invited everyone back to his laboratory, where he made a suitable speech to mark the occasion. Douglas was the hero of the hour. All those present were asked to sign a book that would commemorate the event and honour the daring young aviator. The formalities over, the guests were served tea and coffee, sandwiches and homemade raspberry vinegar, a drink to which the teetotaling Dr. Bell was very partial. Of the 147 people who signed the book of commemoration, no less than 74 names began with the syllable “Mc” – of those, 16 were McDonald.