Putting Aircraft to Work: The First Air Freight
by ROGER E. BILSTEIN
Orville and Katherine went to Simms to see Mr. Phil o. Parmelee [sic] start to Columbus with several bolts of silk in an aeroplane. He flew there in 61 minutes, and delivered the goods. From BISHOP MILTON WRIGHT'S Diary, November 7, 1910.
NOTES ON PAGE 277 |
248 OHIO HISTORY |
|
Milton Wright, a bishop of the United Brethren in Christ church in Dayton, Ohio, maintained a keen interest in the activities of his lively family, es- pecially the projects of his two younger boys, Orville and Wilbur. A con- scientious diarist, his laconic entry marked the fulfillment of a logical corollary advocated by his methodical sons; that is, the search for a way to put their successful invention to useful purpose in everyday life.1 When Orville Wright and his brother Wilbur first picked up the chal- lenge of flight, neither had given much thought to the practical uses of airplanes. For the Wrights, the conquest of the air was a stimulating problem: a scientific proposition to pursue and to solve.2 Although, as Wilbur once wrote to his father, "While I am taking up the investigation for pleasure rather than for profit, I think there is a slight possibility of achieving fame and fortune from it."3 As to the utility of aircraft, the Wrights shared the speculations of one of their correspondents on aeronautical matters, Octave Chanute, a well known civil engineer with a vigorous curiosity about the mechanics of flight. Summarizing informed opinion on the subject of aviation at the turn of the century for The Independent magazine, Chanute asserted that navigation of the air was indeed probable, in spite of the pessimism of some observers. He cautioned that enthusiasts, on the other hand, had overstepped in their predictions for aerial commerce because the airplane, by its very nature, would be limited in its ability to compete cheaply and reliably with existing forms of transport for passengers and freight. Nevertheless, "flying machines" would have their own special ad- vantages in carrying mail and in reaching "otherwise inaccessible places."4 On December 21, 1903, just four days after they had achieved powered flight, the Wright brothers received their first correspondence concerning the application of aircraft to commerce. The inquiry came from the prom- inent Bostonian, Godfrey Lowell Cabot, who shared a lively interest in aeronautics with his brother Samuel. Without going into detail, Cabot stated that he had a financial interest in an industrial enterprise in West Virginia. Due to the nature of the operations there, transportation costs of $10.00 per ton over one sixteen-mile segment would constitute an ac- ceptable rate, and he wanted to know if the Wright machine was adaptable to the situation.5 He must have been disappointed in the response to his query. In a characteristically terse and straightforward reply, the Wright brothers stated simply that in addition to the plane's engine and pilot the total useful load capacity amounted to not over 100 pounds.6 Still intrigued, Godfrey Cabot wrote to Senator Henry Cabot Lodge suggesting that air- planes might serve a role in American military posture and that perhaps |
THE FIRST AIR FREIGHT 249
the United States ought to look into the
Wrights' invention. The Senator
forwarded the letter to the War
Department, where it vanished from sight,
and, for the moment, nothing more was
accomplished in the practical appli-
cation of aviation.7
The subsequent actions of the Wright
brothers themselves certainly had
the effect of keeping many otherwise
interested people from discovering
much about their invention. After two
abortive demonstrations for the press,
they made no overt attempts to draw
attention to either their success at
Kitty Hawk or the flight trials carried
out on their return to Ohio. The
Wrights wanted time to develop their
plane as well as the infant art of
piloting. The modest brothers had a
natural reticence about publicity, and
they wanted to perfect certain working
details without giving away too
much information too soon. Work
proceeded satisfactorily, and, as their
flying tests near Dayton began to
generate increasing curiosity, it became
difficult to remain discreet about their
brainchild. "In fact," Wilbur con-
fided to Chanute late in 1904, "it
is a question whether we are not ready
to begin considering what we will do
with our baby now that we have it."8
With innate thoroughness, the Wrights
projected a possible sequence of
acceptance: planes would first be useful
for military reconnaissance, and
then for exploration, speedy transportation
of passengers and freight, in-
cluding mail, and finally for sport.9
The Wrights' acquiescence in 1904 in
regard to military exploitation quite
likely followed from some realistic
assessments of the capabilities of their
early handiwork. Fragile, unstable,
with a low weight-lifting ability for
either passengers or cargo, aerial sur-
veillance remained about the only
practical immediate application.10 Early
in 1905 their own attempt to get the
army interested through their con-
gressman failed also, as did subsequent
efforts directed toward the Ameri-
can government.11 The
brothers meanwhile revealed a growing interest in
the commercial potential of their plane
even though the development of
such demand was still in the future. "It is
therefore our intention to furnish
machines for military use first, before
entering the commercial field," Or-
ville announced, "but we reserve
the right to exploit our invention in any
manner we think proper."12 As the Wrights
expected, the military sector
finally made the first move towards
adopting the airplane. After considerable
delay and some uneasiness, as the
Wrights negotiated with Great Britain,
France, and Germany, the United States
War Department concluded a
contract for $25,000 on February 8,
1908, and became the owners of one
flying machine.13
In the course of 1908, thousands of
skeptics finally became believers as
the sky seemed to blossom out in airmen
and airplanes. Orville's tests for
the War Department at Fort Meyer,
Virginia, and Wilbur's flights in Europe
before enthralled crowds including kings of Spain and
England dispelled the
final doubts about their success, while
the flights of other pioneers like
Glenn Curtiss stirred increasing
interest in aviation.14 With public acceptance,
the time had come to look forward to
public use. "I firmly believe in the
future of the aeroplane for commerce, to
carry mail, to carry passengers,
perhaps express," Orville wrote.
"I cannot but believe that we stand at the
250 OHIO HISTORY
beginning of a new era, the Age of
Flight, and that the beginnings of to-day
will be mightily overshadowed by the
complete successes of tomorrow."15
But the age of flight was immature. The
general public, even though
finally convinced that flight was an
actuality, considered it too much of a
novelty to be taken seriously. When
Congressman Morris Sheppard of
Texas introduced a bill to investigate
airmail possibilities in 1910,16 the
New York Telegraph ridiculed the
idea. "Love letters will be carried in a
rose-pink aeroplane," the paper
scoffed, "steered with Cupid's wings and
operated by perfumed gasoline."17
Such public skepticism was an inevitable
result of the flamboyant character of
aviation at the time. As a sensational
mechanical novelty,
"aeroplanes" received their first wide public exposure
as star attractions in air shows and
stunting exhibitions. The concomitant
ballyhoo and publicity fixed in the
public mind the image that airplanes
and their pilots were daredevils and
fools. People were willing to pay to
observe the wonder of flight and to be
on hand for the deliciously chilling
spectacle of an airplane smashup.18
Professional empressarios like Messrs.
Barnum and Bailey knew a box office draw
when they saw one. As early as
1907, they had contacted the Wright
brothers about the possibilities of fly-
ing exhibitions, a natural act for
"The Greatest Show on Earth."19
Although the Wrights were more inclined
to deal with the United States
Army than the circus, military purchases
were not numerous and the civilian
market was necessarily limited. At
$5,000 to $7,500 per plane, a flying ma-
chine remained a rich man's gadget. The
negligible payload continued to
discourage commercial operations, which
in any case would have foundered
on the nearly total lack of permanent
landing fields, hangars, and main-
tenance facilities. The scarcity of
revenue forced the Wright brothers and
Glenn Curtiss to organize their own
exhibition companies and retain some
of the daring fraternity of
"Birdmen" to fly in them. In 1911, after two
seasons of aerial show business, the
Wrights retired from flying exhibitions
with distaste, although Curtiss and
other troupes continued to play county
fairs and other local festivals across
the country.20 It was during this period
that the airplane was first used in a
practical demonstration as a freight
carrier; but compared to the excitement
of loops, spirals, altitude and en-
durance flights, the significance of
transporting man-made goods by air,
faster than train or auto, was almost
lost.
Regardless of all the Wrights'
frustrations in finding a useful niche for
their invention, the solution was
crystallizing only a short distance from
their home in Dayton. The impetus came
from Max Morehouse, prominent
in Columbus, Ohio, business circles and
a guiding spirit in the enterprises
of the Morehouse-Martens Company,
operators of The Home Dry Goods
Store, a leading emporium of that city.
Since 1903 Morehouse had been
one of several local business men who
shared a lively interest in the nascent
science of aeronautics. Eagerly he
followed the exploits of the Curtiss Ex-
hibition Company's appearance in
Cleveland in 1910, especially the stunning
aerial dash from Sandusky to Cleveland.
Why not convert an aerial jaunt
into a cargo run? He fired off a letter
to the Wrights and, on October 14,
THE FIRST AIR FREIGHT 251
began correspondence formulating the
first transport of merchandise by air.
Could the Wrights fly "a bolt of
ribbon" from Dayton to Columbus to be
featured in connection with the annual
fall sale of the store? The Wrights
were definitely intrigued by the
proposition and dispatched their air show
manager, A. Roy Knabenshue, to work out
the details of the proposal.
As a result of these conversations with
Max Morehouse, it was agreed that
the Wright Company would convey the
cargo of silk to Columbus. After
some reflection about the size of the
shipment, Knabenshue wrote to the
businessman suggesting that the
consignment be enlarged. Increasing the
load to a proportion roughly equal to a
man's weight should attach more
significance to the occasion, he
explained. This was acceptable to the man-
ager of the Home Store, and the dry
goods was dispatched by rail to Dayton.
In the shipment there were several pieces
of "R. & T. Pluvett Salome Silk."
One package contained a bolt of
rose-colored silk and the other contained
nine pieces of various colors, "in
all there were five hundred and forty-one
and seven-eights yards," to be
priced at the normal $1.35 a yard. The total
weight was 200 pounds. The nine pieces
were to be taken directly to the
store and placed on display and sale;
the other piece would be opened at
the landing field, cut into small pieces,
and placed on souvenir postcards
for immediate sale. The "freight
charges" billed to the Morehouse-Martens
Company for the return of the shipment
by air amounted to $5,000.00, or
about $25.00 per pound; nevertheless
"within a day or two the store had
a good profit on the transaction ... and
the gross returns were more than
$6,000." In reality, the $5,000
freight charge was not an exorbitant fee;
the Wrights ordinarily received that
amount in regular exhibition per-
formances, and Knabenshue had agreed to
include some aerial demonstra-
tions after delivery of the silk had
been made. A shrewd publicist, More-
house had wangled an air show along with
his cargo shipment.21
The Ohio State Journal's initial
report of the special flight was not front
page news, although there was an
undercurrent of anticipation in the revela-
tion that the Wright brothers' Dayton
firm had contracted to transport a
shipment of silk to Columbus by air.
After departure from Dayton, the run
was expected to take between one and two
hours before reaching Columbus
around 10:00 A.M., and citizens
would be alerted of the arrival when fire
whistles were sounded throughout the
city. The choice of pilot was not
yet final. The most likely prospects
were three of the best known performers
in the Wright Exhibition Company: Arch
Hoxsey, Ralph Johnstone, or
Walter Brookins. In his capacity as
manager of exhibition operations, Roy
Knabenshue left for the Belmont Air Meet
in New York City, where the
three stars were currently appearing, to
make his pilot selection for the
proposed cargo flight. One aspect of the
enterprise was simplified before
he headed East. Plans to terminate the
journey on the roof top of the Home
Store were discarded after it was
concluded that the capricious air currents
around the asphalt and concrete canyons
of downtown Columbus were too
risky, even for professional
"aeroplane artists" like Hoxey, Johnstone, and
Brookins.22
252 OHIO HISTORY
On October 31, one week before the big
day, Mr. Morehouse journeyed
to Dayton to confirm last minute
arrangements for the "Home Store Aero-
plane Express." Although the
original agreement had indicated an early
morning trip, the planners decided to
advance the departure time to later
in the forenoon so as to increase
spectator exposure. As the termination of
the flight would now coincide with the
twelve o'clock luncheon break, it
was hoped that upwards of 50,000 persons
would witness the climax. Re-
calling English aviator Claude
Grahame-White's dramatic turn around the
Statue of Liberty during the recent
Belmont meet, it seemed that some
similar maneuver ought to be performed
above Columbus. Thus it was de-
termined to have the pilot negotiate the
smokestack of the Ohio State
Penitentiary.23
Meanwhile, preparations for the
momentous day went forward. The tele-
phone company made arrangements to have
subscribers along the line of
flight report the plane's impending
approach to the portals of the capital
city. In the event of a forced landing,
some casual sort of "back-up systems"
were formulated so that the trip could
proceed with the least amount of
wasted time. Since other flights had
been held up in mid journey because
the voracious pilot had to delay his
take off until food was secured to as-
suage his appetite, the Wrights firmly
insisted on including perhaps the
first air-borne luncheon, in addition to
the cargo. As nearly as possible,
Wilbur himself intended to follow the
flight path as a train passenger, carry-
ing critical plane replacement parts
with him for emergencies more serious
than hunger pangs.24
From the start, the media-minded
Morehouse publicized the fact that
some of the air-expressed silk would be
available in the souvenir-sized lots,
mentioned previously. The house of
Morehouse-Martens left no doubt that
these artifacts of transport history were
to be its unique contribution.
Several large New York firms, it was
ominously hinted, had made bids to
share in the glory, but had been firmly
declined. The historic mementos were
to be a Home Store exclusive. The
mounting publicity brought a ream
of correspondence from curious citizens
who were willing to try an aerial fling,
if possible. These enquiries included
the expected number of gentlemen ad-
venturers; it is interesting that so
many ladies manifested a desire to fly
also. But the main object for
Morehouse-Martens was publicity, not rides.
As the time of the big flight drew
closer, a series of newspaper advertisements
not only publicized "Aviation
Day" in Columbus, but also touted the spe-
cial "Aviation Day" bargains
to be purveyed in the Home Store on the
great occasion. Anyone who wished to
become an eyewitness to history and
the gala events surrounding the flight
could enter the landing and exhibition
area for a fee of $1.00, with a quarter
extra for a reserved seat. Automobile
drivers could park their cars in good
viewing distance for only $3.00. Despite
the high prices, many box-party groups
were organized for the aerial holi-
day as excitement about the flight
continued to mount.25
Although the events of the first week of
November 1910 included several
local and county election contests as
well as a congressional campaign and
THE FIRST AIR FREIGHT
253
Warren G. Harding's futile drive for the
governor's mansion, the inches of
type devoted to the Dayton-Columbus
airplane trip at least equalled or
surpassed politics as page one news.
Even the coverage on inside pages
kept pace with campaign manifestoes. The
interest intensified when news
came that Walter Brookins, originally
chosen to fly the cargo from Dayton,
had suffered injuries in a plane crash
during the Belmont air meet, an acci-
dent which reopened the suspenseful
speculation about choice of a pilot.
There ensued a flurry of nervous phone
calls from Columbus to Dayton,
where the Wright Company was receiving
direct reports concerning Brookins'
condition. Happily, he appeared to be
recovering, but the Wrights were
nevertheless forced to rely on a
substitute in order to make the flight dead-
line of November 7. It was with a sense
of disappointment that the Journal
advised its readers that Brookins'
replacement was to be a "Mr. Paimlee,"
who was such an unknown at the time that
the reporter failed to get his
name correctly: Philip O. Parmalee. To
be sure, Parmalee had only recently
finished his flight training under the
tutelage of Brookins himself in the
summer of 1910. But since he then
qualified as one of a few select people
in the world who could "drive"
an aeroplane, Parmalee became a veteran
"pro" almost instantaneously.
In fact, he had been flying at Belmont, also,
and had captured a couple of minor
prizes in the secondary events.26
On Sunday, the day before the flight
(the staid brothers Wright resolutely
declined all contracts for flight
exhibitions on the Sabbath), Parmalee jour-
neyed to Columbus to reconnoiter and
make the arrangements for his ar-
rival at the driving park. This was a
local oval with space for touch down
and take off in convenient view of the
grandstand. The organizers agreed
to festoon the environs of the area with
long white streamers so that the
pilot could better pinpoint his landing
site as well as ascertain the pattern
of treacherous air currents close to the
ground as he jockeyed his plane into
position for the final landing approach.27
The airplane assigned to Parmalee
appears to have been a Model "B,"
a hybrid version derived from
experimental modifications made on earlier
designs. Model B, introduced early in
1910, was a biplane having a wing
span of about thirty-nine feet and a
length of twenty-eight feet. Like most
of the early Wright designs, it had two
rear-mounted pusher propellers, each
directly geared to the gasoline engine
by a chain drive. The engine itself
was a reliable, if noisy, four cylinder
in-line model generally used by the
Wrights from 1908 to 1912, and developed
thirty to forty horsepower. This
power plant was adequate to lift the
plane, its pilot, and one adventurous
passenger. Both passenger seats were
perched jauntily just above the lead-
ing edge of the lower wing, a pair of
precarious platforms attached almost
as if by afterthought to the rest of the
machine by a maze of guy wires,
cables, and struts. The first Wright
planes used a catapult system for take
off, and landed on rigid skids. Model B
was one of their first aircraft to be
equipped with wheels. It also had newly
designed tail surfaces that incor-
porated the relocated horizontal
stabilizer, previously positioned in the
front.28
254 OHIO HISTORY
Instrumentation on this model typified
the equipment of similar planes
of the prewar era: there was none. The
lack of accurate navigational aids
created potential troubles, but piloting
was a full time job that precluded
the possibility of fiddling with
hand-held instruments or billowing charts
that threatened to blow away any second.
Since the young aviator knew
"absolutely nothing" about the
topography of the country between Dayton
and Columbus, Orville found a road map
which he tacked on the wing strut
so that the pilot could keep an eye on
it and at least make an educated
guess as to his course.29
On the day of the flight, Parmalee was
joined at Huffman Prairie by the
Wrights: Orville, Lorin, and Katherine.
In addition to some company per-
sonnel, only a few other hardy souls
braved the brisk early morning chill
of November 7 to watch the plane's departure.
After a brief test hop, the
two packages of silk were securely
strapped into the empty seat, and the
pilot clambered aboard at 10:45 A.M.
"Watch the map," admonished Or-
ville, "and do your best."
With the hoarse cheers of farewell from the small
crowd fading behind him, Parmalee
maneuvered the first commercial flight
in history across a cow pasture and into
the air.30
Once airborne, the world's first cargo
pilot found the sun a more useful
guide than his road map. "I kept
the sun-glint on the right edge of my plane's
wings and flew directly east until
passing Yellow Springs," he reported later.
Over London, he banked and headed north,
where he picked up the rail-
road tracks which he intended to follow
directly into Columbus. He had
by this time outrun his escort, o. E.
Kent, a replacement for Orville Wright
as follow-up man on the crack "Big
Four" passenger express from Dayton
to Columbus.31 However late he
was, Mr. Kent made the journey in snug
comfort at ease in a spacious passenger
coach. At an estimated altitude of
2,000 feet above the bleak winter
landscape, Parmalee hunched his shoulders,
gritted his teeth and doggedly flew on
through the dull November sky. In
his exposed position he had no
protection whatever -- he breached the ocean
of air ahead of him like the figurehead
on a ship. The winter cold began to
penetrate uncomfortably in spite of the
multi-layered flying togs Parmalee
had squeezed on before take off. From
time to time, the flier wheeled his
plane into a turn and veered to the
south, a position that gave more direct
exposure to the rays of the pale winter
sun. Grateful for whatever warmth
he could briefly soak up, he awkwardly
tacked back north to pick up the
railroad tracks again. Erratically, he
made his way east toward Columbus,
until that city's "spires and
uplifted surfaces of skyscrapers greeted the
young birdman."
Although the telephone company's hookup
had passed on the news of
Parmalee's departure and progress, his
arrival was so sudden and unex-
pected that the din of screeching sirens
and clanging bells set off a final
hectic rush to see the Home Store
aeroplane express alight. "It was an awe
inspiring sight," one witness
proclaimed. "Those who watched that speck
west of the grandstand grow to the size
and shape of a bird, then larger
and larger as it flew swiftly surely,
all were rooted to the ground in wonder-
THE FIRST AIR FREIGHT 255
ment." Triumphantly, Parmalee sailed across the sky above thousands of onlookers who had rushed into the streets and onto rooftops to see the spectacle. Then, gradually losing altitude, he circled the awestruck crowd of 3,000 who had managed to get to the driving park in time for the cli- mactic grand finale as the plane settled slowly towards the touch down site. There was a strange hush settled over the crowd. No one seemed to know what to do. They did not realize that world's records had been made and broken; that one of the finest flights in the brief history of aviation had been made; they only knew that for the first time they beheld the dream of the ages, a craft that successfully disputes with the eagle and the condor for the mastery of the air. Even when the throng began to recover its composure, the first reaction was one of incredulity. "Well I swan," gasped one aged gentleman. "I never thought I'd live to be this old."32 Shortly before twelve noon, the engine still pounding away, Parmalee eased his plane over the fence that bounded the east end of the field and casually brought the craft in "as daintily as a bit of thistle down."33 He debarked from his aerial carriage as deliberately and as calmly as if he had just returned from a hackney drive of half a mile. "Well," he averred, "that was going some." Then he stepped back from the plane with satisfaction. "It was a dandy trip," he added happily. After stamping and slapping himself vigorously to drive out the chill absorbed during the hour-long flight, he seized up his cargo and strode for- ward to greet the welcoming committee. To those who were seeing him for the first time, he looked like an aerial apparition. His flying paraphernalia included oxfords and puttees, three pairs of socks, three pairs of trousers, a sweater, a sweater vest, a heavy top coat, mittens, and a woolen cap to |
256 OHIO HISTORY
pull down around his ears. With a heavy
scarf wrapped round the lower
part of his face, he seemed more like a
mummy with goggles than a man.34
Parmalee carried a letter for Morehouse.
Since it was resting deep in
the inner recesses of his layered
clothing, the process of fishing it out caused
some merriment among the spectators,
which the flier took with good
humor. He caught the fancy of the crowd
at once -- "a strong, manly, modest
chap of just 24, with open, frank
features, everyone liked him who met
him." As Parmalee handed over the
silk, he learned that part of it would
be dispensed in souvenir-sized lots. He
quickly requested a piece for a
"friend," shyly declining to
divulge any details about the friend's identity.
After some good-natured banter, the
enthralled audience allowed its hero
to exit for a brief rest and a bite to
eat before the aerial exhibition began.
During this intermission of the main
attraction, the throng was entertained
by motorcycle races, and stirring
martial airs rendered by the Fourth
Regiment band.
On his return to the driving park to
perform the exhibition section of
the aviation day program, Parmalee lost
a race to a motorcycle, but the
crowd was more than satisfied just to
have the chance to see an airplane
in action as the flier "negotiated
the most dangerous dives and the sharpest
turns with superlative ease." The vast
majority of the people looking on
had never seen an airplane before in
their lives. The lack of familiarity en-
dowed the fragile craft with an aura of
heroic proportions as it wheeled
and cavorted overhead. Pushing the plane
over into a dive, Parmalee
dropped with a sickening rush to 100
feet of the ground, a breathtaking
maneuver that imparted a "gentle
shock to the gaping multitudes." But
then, at the brink of disaster, one of
the "mysterious" elevators would "veer
ever so little, and the monster would
mount again, to the intense relief of
all concerned." Two lucky people in
the crowd tasted the special glory of
going up with the artful aeronaut. After
Ben Harman, manager of the Neil
House at the time, declined an offer,
the former manager, Henry Matlack,
made the most of the opportunity.
Morehouse himself came away from the
second passenger flight of the day full
of enthusiasm and reassurance. "It
was great," he chortled,
"great." No more fearful than a fast elevator, he
counselled fainter hearts.35
Parmalee gave some thought to the
prospect of flying back to Dayton
before the afternoon daylight waned. But
he decided that it was really too
cold, so the first aeroplane express was
taken apart on the spot and carried
back to Dayton by the afternoon train.
That evening, Morehouse hosted
a dinner at the Chittenden Hotel in
honor of Parmalee and his tardy col-
league from the Wright Company, Mr.
Kent. Next morning, both of the
aviation notables returned home as
patrons of the railroad.36
In the aftermath of the flight of the
first air express, the citizens of Co-
lumbus paused to assess the significance
of the event. It had possessed tre-
mendous spectator appeal and had the
carnival atmosphere that generally
typified a type of transportation regarded by most
people as strictly daring
and chancy. There was much in the whole
affair that smacked of gimmickry
THE FIRST AIR FREIGHT 257 |
and grandstanding for publicity. It should be remembered, however, that the conduct of the flight had been under the jurisdiction of the Wright Ex- hibition Company, set up for the express purpose of publicity, and arranged by a professional air-showman, Roy Knabenshue. As produced and pre- sented by Knabenshue, the flight was, not surprisingly, a drama of high adventure, and this is how it remained for many who were there. An editorial in the Journal on the morning after still breathed the excitement of spec- tacle. "Our news columns will tell all about the flight," the paper pro- claimed, "but the poetry of it, the romance of it, dwells in the mind like a dream, which cannot be expressed." Yet, there was a dash of realism stirred in with awe of the episode. It was recognized that Parmalee's trip was more than just the usual stunt, that the transfer of the pieces of silk by air had added importance beyond their value as mere souvenirs of an exciting flight. The fact remained that an aeroplane had not just flown from Dayton to Columbus; an aeroplane carry- ing a man and a cargo had beaten the crack "Big Four" express point-to point. "The idea of a man flying up here from Dayton -- where is your rail- road train, your traction, your automobile now?" the Journal demanded. "Relegated to bygone days, along with the stage coach and the canal boat." Breaking away from the rhapsodic description of Parmalee's arrival, one reporter paused to give a nod to "the marvels of aerial navigation and aerial freight transportation" before allowing his fancy to take flight again.37 As the more pragmatic editors of the Scientific American observed, the addi- tional utilization of a car to whisk the silk from landing field to sales counter constituted a "striking demonstration of the conjunctive use of the aeroplane and the automobile in the delivery of mail and express."38 In the spring of the following year (May 29 to June 11, 1911), Columbus hosted an air meet and issued an elaborate program brochure giving the de- |
258 OHIO HISTORY
tails of all the events as well as a
commentary on the state of the art of
flying. The program included the
customary speed competition (with a
winner's cup sponsored by the
Morehouse-Martens Company), endurance
contests, the "quick start"
event, and two rather curious activities for that
halcyon prewar era. The one involved
pistol target shooting from the air,
and the other entailed a bomb tossing
contest, with the imaginary battleships
as targets. Contestants in this last
event vied for the Myron T. Herrick
cup. Capping off the day's events would
be the usual "fancy flying by all
the birdmen."39
But while the show brochure faithfully
cataloged all the thrilling events
to be witnessed, the tone of the
commentary was more reserved and less
florid than might have been expected.
With the advantage of six months'
reflection on the cargo flight of the
previous November, the show sponsors
offered a notably more mature assessment
of the status of aviation. For ex-
ample, it was noted that the current
popularity of exhibition flying was
passing its zenith. Although gate
receipts rivaled baseball, football, and
auto racing meets, the expenses involved
in the air show circuit usually
resulted in a deficit. But red ink was
not the only negative aspect accounting
for the decline of air shows, the
brochure continued. Exhibition flying, a
transitory era after all, was now giving
way to commercial aviation, as il-
lustrated by Parmalee's recent cargo
flight.40 Admitting that much needed
to be done to expand knowledge of
aviation, including more accumulation
of data on wind velocity, air currents,
and engineering techniques, the nar-
rative gave firm commitment to the
commercial value of aviation. In the
future, aircraft would operate at "great speed
(100 to 150 miles per hour),"
the program asserted, and would fly with
"comparative safety over long dis-
tances," carrying mail, express,
and freight. The program even predicted
that if a plane were developed that
could carry a fuel supply of thirty hours'
duration, such a plane could ride the
prevailing westerly winds all the way
across the Atlantic from New York to England.41
Nearly two decades passed before useful
express routes and successful
Atlantic flights became relatively
commonplace.42 The time lag is indicative
of the truly primitive state of
aeronautics in 1910-1911. Yet, as recognized
by these accounts, Parmalee's brief
odyssey from Dayton to Columbus was
an important milestone in the history of
flight, as the "aeroplane" emerged
from its awkward years as a side show
curiosity into a respectable position
in the transportation systems of the
United States and the world.
THE AUTHOR: Roger E. Bilstein is
Assistant Professor of History at
Wiscon-
sin State University, Whitewater.
Putting Aircraft to Work: The First Air Freight
by ROGER E. BILSTEIN
Orville and Katherine went to Simms to see Mr. Phil o. Parmelee [sic] start to Columbus with several bolts of silk in an aeroplane. He flew there in 61 minutes, and delivered the goods. From BISHOP MILTON WRIGHT'S Diary, November 7, 1910.
NOTES ON PAGE 277 |