McCurdy and the Silver Dart

by Les Harding

  The next day Douglas kept his promise and took the Silver Dart for a flight of 6 kilometres. On the third day he astonished everyone by flying 30 kilometres non-stop!

  Newspapers from around the world heralded the young Canadian aviator from Baddeck.

  Douglas McCurdy is shown at the controls of the Silver Dart in 1908. In this plane McCurdy became the ninth person ever to fly and the first person to fly in Canada. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)

  The Silver Dart prepares to take off from the frozen Bras d’Or Lake in Baddeck in February, 1909.

  The Silver Dart is airborne with Douglas McCurdy at the controls. This was the first airplane flight ever in Canada. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)

  Chapter 5

  The Army Says No

  In March 31, 1909, the Aerial Experiment Association, having more than fulfilled its mission to get a man into the air, was allowed to expire. The same day, Douglas and Casey, with assistance from Dr. Bell, formed the Canadian Aerodrome Company for the purpose of manufacturing airplanes in Canada.

  Douglas was determined to alert the Government of Canada to the airplane’s exciting potential. To this end, he began a tour of the cities of eastern Canada. In each city, he used the Silver Dart to put on a demonstration flight.

  Meanwhile, Alexander Graham Bell did what he could to help on the lecture circuit. On March 27, 1909, he spoke before the Canadian Club of Ottawa. Listening to his address were Earl Grey, the Governor General; Prime Minister Laurier; Robert Borden, Leader of the Opposition; Sir Sandford Fleming, builder of the Canadian Pacific Railway; and a number of other dignitaries and government ministers. The Minister of Militia and Defence was also in attendance. Dr. Bell gave a ringing speech full of patriotism, praising the two young Canadian aviators, McCurdy and Baldwin. He went on to stress the coming commercial and military importance of the airplane, concluding his talk with the stirring words: “The nation that controls the air will ultimately be the foremost nation of the world.”

  From this speech came an invitation for Douglas and Casey to display their aircraft, at their own expense, for officials of the Ministry of Militia and Defence at the Petawawa military camp in northern Ontario.

  Upon uncrating the Silver Dart in Petawawa, Douglas was pleased to see that a shed had been constructed for his use. It was the first aircraft hanger on Canadian soil. But everyone in Ottawa did not share the optimism felt by the two young pilots. There were many officials in both the government and the military who thought this business with airplanes to be a foolish waste of time and public money.

  The date picked for the test flight was August 2, 1909. Douglas climbed into the cockpit of the Silver Dart, the propeller was spun, and he taxied off for the first of four successful flights. On hand to witness the event were about forty newspaper reporters and photographers and the most senior military officers of the country.

  Douglas flew along a course that was one kilometer long, at a speed of 70 kilometres per hour and at an altitude of 20 metres. The Silver Dart handled beautifully, displaying stability and manoeuvrability in the air. The observers on the ground had to admit that it was an impressive demonstration.

  On the fifth flight of the day, Douglas’s good fortune left him. As he came in for a landing, the sun momentarily blinded him. The wheels on the undercarriage ploughed into the soft sand covering the landing strip and the Silver Dart flipped over on its nose. The Silver Dart was destroyed in the accident and Douglas suffered a broken nose, the most serious injury of his flying career. After 300 flights, this was the Silver Dart’s first and last mishap. A monument with a bronze plaque, in honour of the first military demonstration of aircraft flight in Canada, now marks the spot where the Silver Dart came to her end.

  The military, for some unfathomable reason, decided that the fifth flight was the official flight. They ignored the earlier flights and decided that this was the only one from which they could make their assessment. They were not inclined to be generous with their comments. Much later, Douglas received a withering reply to his continuing efforts to attract the interest of the government of Canada. “The aeroplane is an invention of the devil and will never play any part in such a serious business as the defence of a nation, my boy!”

  Douglas’s mishap with the Silver Dart was partially due to his unfamiliarity with the terrain and its unsuitability as a landing field. The field was sandy and uneven, normally used by the cavalry as a training ground.

  Despite such serious setbacks, the Canadian Aero­dome Company of Baddeck, Nova Scotia, designed and built two aircraft, the Baddeck I and the Baddeck II. Douglas decided to take another attempt at the government. The Baddeck I had been shipped to Petawawa at the same time as the Silver Dart. The Baddeck I was the first aircraft to be equipped with enclosed fuel tanks for greater safety. It was also the first to have elevators, or ailerons, located at the rear of the plane. Douglas flew the Baddeck I on August 11 and 12, 1909. Both flights were successful. On the flight of August 13, his engine stalled and the Baddeck I crash landed after a flight of only 75 metres. Douglas was not injured but once again he had failed to impress the most senior military officers of Canada.

  The Baddeck I was repaired in June 1910 and took part in the Montreal aviation meet, the first of its kind in Canada. After several days of good flying, Douglas was caught in a high wind and the Baddeck I crashed. This time it was destroyed. Douglas, who endured no more crashes than any other aviator in those early days, nevertheless lived a charmed life. He emerged from the wreckage unhurt.

  Discouraged by his reception in Petawawa, he returned to Nova Scotia. The Baddeck II was completed on September 11, 1909, then flown two weeks later. Over the next three months, Douglas and Casey made a great number of flights, all of them flawless, including one of 20 kilometres in November.

  In Ottawa, there was at least one official who had been impressed. The Governor General, Earl Grey, had become so keen on flying that he journeyed to Baddeck by private rail car. In his honour, Douglas put on a special aerial display. The Governor General stayed for a week enjoying the McCurdy’s hospitality.

  During the early months of 1910, Douglas flew the Baddeck II twenty-three times without incident. He broke distance and speed records on almost every flight. The days of crash landings were not over yet, but the airplane was becoming more reliable.

  In March 1910, Douglas received another important visitor, Major G. S. Maunsell, Director of Engineering Services for the Militia. Douglas took the Major airborne as a passenger on several flights. Major Maunsell returned to Ottawa enthusiastic about the future of the airplane. But the government would not be swayed; their answer was still no.

  Douglas even offered to sell his aircraft to the government for the low price of $10,000. He further offered to train pilots to fly for free but was turned down on both offers.

  The end was in sight for the Canadian Aerodrome Company. The company was forced to close its doors only a year after its birth. Douglas would have to try something else.

  Chapter 6

  Barnstorming

  Disappointed by officialdom’s response in Canada, Douglas decided to become a barnstormer: a form of aerial daredevil peculiar to the early days of flying. By 1910, flying had caught the imagination of the public. People would gather in thousands at parks, fairs and racetracks all over North America to see an airplane in flight and, if they were fortunate, get a ride in one. The admission fee for one of these events was usually a dollar. For a percentage of the recipients, a barnstormer would take his fragile craft airborne and put on a display of hair-raising acrobatics – stalls, slow rolls, snap rolls, inverted flying – guaranteed to thrill and chill. For every swoop and dive the crowd would roar its approval and think its dollar well spent. As a barnstormer Douglas could earn a healthy income, but there were dangers: twenty-nine stunt flyers were k
illed in 1910, 83 in 1911 and 122 in 1912!

  Douglas travelled to the United States, getting in touch with his old friend from the Aerial Experiment Association, Glenn Curtiss. As Douglas was probably the most skilled pilot in the world, Curtiss was glad to have him. Douglas became the star attraction of the Curtiss Exhibition Company. Paying crowds from as far afield as Quebec and Mexico City thronged to see Douglas and his airplane.

  The physical arrangements for one of his performances were complicated. As he travelled with his own crew of skilled mechanics and helpers he had to be guaranteed $500 to pay costs. At each stop his aircraft had to be uncrated, reassembled and then carefully tested. A suitable flying field had to be scouted out and a huge circus tent erected as headquarters. As always, there was the weather to worry about. At the conclusion of a performance, the tent had to be taken down, the aircraft gently taken apart, re-crated and shipped by train to the next city.

  The business arrangements were not so complex. Upon arriving in a city, Douglas would approach a newspaper and arrange to have his visit sponsored as an advertising stunt. Douglas would get banner headlines – “Astonishing Birdman,” “Death Mocker,” “Acrobat of the Air” – crowds of people would flock to see his air show, and the newspaper would get its publicity.

  Douglas’s favourite stunt, the one his audiences seemed to enjoy the most, was a little trick he called “battleship bombing.” In the centre of a field he placed two canvasses about 25 metres apart. Each canvas was about 3 metres squared and represented a battleship. The bombs he used were fresh fruit! Oranges were the preferred ammunition.

  On the day of the show he would zoom low over the crowd. After making a few passes around the field, he would race toward the targets at about 60 kilometres per hour while suspending from his neck and resting on his lap a basket of fresh oranges. On his first sweep over the target he would grab hold of an orange and lob it at the imaginary smokestacks of his imaginary battleships. The oranges would splatter with great dramatic effect and Douglas, more often than not, would score a direct hit in the centre of one of the canvasses. On his second, third and succeeding passes, Douglas would continue to bomb his targets with oranges. The bombing would last until he had run out of fruit and his “battleship” had been “sunk” or, at least, covered in orange pulp. The crowds loved it.

  Douglas was one of the few who realized it at the time, but political clouds were darkening. Only a few short years after these harmless displays of “battleship bombing” the savage slaughter of the First World War erupted. Douglas’s manoeuvres were destined to be repeated, but with deadly seriousness.

  In August 1911, he was back in Canada attending a flying meet in Hamilton, Ontario. Despite some serious dangers, such as having his engine cut out at 100 metres and nearly having his plane burst into flames, the meet was a success.

  The Hamilton Herald gives us a fairly typical description of one of Douglas’s barnstorming performances:

  He tore across the field at a terrific speed in his racing biplane and rose in the air at a speed of sixty miles (one hundred kilometres) an hour. He passed Willard when the latter was 400 feet (120 metres) in the air. After circling the field Willard decided to come down, after which McCurdy started out on a cross-country flight. He rose to a height of 2000 feet (600 metres) and went far out over the bay.... When he descended he expressed entire satisfaction with the working of his machine. Willard was also astounded and said: “McCurdy’s is the climbiest machine I ever saw. When he passed me at an altitude of 400 feet he was going at an awful speed and climbing straight up.”

  The other pilot was Charles P. Willard, a well-known American aviator. The Herald continues its profile of Douglas:

  As a final wind-up, he decided to try a flight to see how high he could possibly go with his new machine. He started on his course far out over the lake, and circled back, soaring up to a height of 3000 feet (900 metres), but was forced to descend on account of the cold. When he landed his teeth were chattering and his hands were almost frozen. He said it was the first time he had ever been cold while in flight and that he was forced to descend on account of the frigid atmosphere, although his machine could have gone much higher.

  At the conclusion of the meet, Douglas and Willard, who were both scheduled to appear at a similar gathering in Toronto, decided to have a race. The course, Hamilton to Toronto, was the first aerial race in Canada and the longest cross-country flight up to that time.

  Douglas had made Willard a small wager betting his friend that he could give him a 10-minute head start and still beat him to Toronto. After Willard took off, a spectator in Hamilton called out to Douglas, “You’ll never catch him now.” Douglas replied, “I’ll bet you a five spot I do.” The onlooker accepted the bet and the race was on.

  Willard, flying at only 175 metres, took the cautious route following the rails of the Grand Trunk Railway. He encountered rainsqualls the whole way, having only five minutes of good flying.

  Douglas, adventurous as usual, boldly cut across the end of Lake Ontario, cruising at 1000 metres. At that height, the air was clearer and he could see boats on the surface of the water quite distinctly. When he neared Toronto, Douglas hit a wave of warm air rising from the city. His machine began to vibrate uncontrollably. He concluded that the safe thing to do was to descend and take a lower stratum of air. This was fine except that the atmosphere at that level was so smoky and dark he could hardly see a thing. Willard was having a similar problem.

  Both aviators reached Toronto safely but because of the murk neither of them landed at the agreed location. Willard landed at the Toronto Exhibition Grounds after covering the 60 kilometres from Hamilton in 45 minutes. Douglas landed on Toronto Island after a flight of 32 minutes. Douglas had won his bets.

  Douglas was the first Canadian to receive a pilot’s licence. Most barnstormers did not bother with such formalities. They simply climbed into their planes and flew. But it was not hard to get a licence. All you had to do was take off, fly around a circle, land in one piece and demonstrate some basic knowledge of how the engine worked.

  Douglas had licence number 18, dated October 5, 1910. The Aero Club of America issued the licence under the authority of the Federation Aeronautique Internationale. The FAI, located in Paris, was the international organization responsible for all flying records. No record was official unless recognized by the FAI.

  Douglas’s interest went far beyond barnstorming. Just two weeks after getting his pilot’s licence, in a biplane designed by Glen Curtiss, he set a world speed record of 80 kilometres per hour at the Belmont Park International Aviation Meet in New York.

  Douglas still found time for experimentation. He flew the world’s first flying boat in Long Island Sound and pioneered the puller type of airplane engine. A puller was a propeller and engine mounted in the front of the aircraft, which pulled it through the air. Up until then all airplanes were of the pusher variety – that is, they were pushed through the air by a propeller and engine at the rear of the plane. In a crash, a pusher type of engine could be very dangerous. It could break loose from its mount and crush the pilot.

  On August 27, 1910, Douglas sent the very first wireless, or radio, message ever transmitted from an airplane. In Palm Beach, Florida, in March of 1911, Douglas and Percy G. B. Moriss, a wireless engineer, participated in another radio experiment. This time the plan was to transmit and receive.

  A wireless transmitter was set up and a lightweight receiver fitted into Douglas’s airplane. Everything seemed to run smoothly except for one problem. The roar of the engine was so loud Douglas could not hear a thing over the wireless.

  The solution was as simple as it was ludicrous. Percy would accompany Douglas, as a passenger, and operate the wireless. Percy put on his earphones while Douglas wrapped the man’s head with wet towels, fixing them in place with wads of tape. Poor Percy looked like he was in a plaster cast. Ridiculous or not, it worked. Clear r
adio contact was made with the station in Palm Beach, as well as with one in Key West and with a passing steamer.

  Douglas McCurdy is shown at one of his barnstorming events where his plane races a car at Daytona Beach, Florida, in 1911. As shown, Douglas’ barnstorming events attracted large crowds. (Photo courtesy Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site, Baddeck, NS.)

  Chapter 7

  Triumph and Treachery in Cuba

  With the onslaught of winter, Douglas’s barnstorming show headed south. In Florida, during the winter of 1911, he decided to fly to Cuba. Up until that time no one had ever flown an airplane in Cuba. The Cuban government offered a prize of $10,000 to the first person to fly from Key West, Florida, to the capital city of Havana. Upon his acceptance of the challenge, the Havana Post agreed to put up an additional $5,000 and the city of Havana $3,000 more.

  If successful, Douglas would break three records at once. He would make the longest flight over sea, spend the longest time airborne in powered flight, and become the first person to fly out of sight of land. The distance involved was 140 kilometres.

  Douglas approached the United States Navy for help. Unlike the Canadian authorities, the Americans were keen to see what Douglas’s aircraft could do. They were so eager to help that they placed the entire eastern division of their destroyer fleet at Douglas’s disposal. Six ships were detailed to patrol the route and render Douglas all possible assistance. The Pauling was stationed just off Havana. Stretching in a line, at roughly equal intervals, were the Terry, the Drayton, the Roe, the Arthusea and the Forward.