Flying Machines Over Zion: Aviation Comes To Utah, 1910-1919

By Anthony Martini

Anthony Martini offers a well-researched and interesting history of the first decade of flight in Utah, from 1910 to 1919, in this informative account of early aviation. This book features 45 intriguing illustrations capturing the faces, feats and failures of early flight in the Beehive State. It's a must have for any aviation enthusiast!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781105007248

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INTRODUCTION

From the ten minute flight of Louis Paulhan in 1910, to the transcontinental air races of 1919, Utah aviation changed drastically in its first decade. Flying machines would come to Zion in 1910 aboard railroad trains, unassembled and accompanied by a large volume of spare parts, unable to fly more than a few minutes at a time. By 1919, large military warbirds were transiting across the country, using Utah as a refueling and rest stop along their route of flight.

The early aircraft used in the first half of the decade were simple, fragile structures. Made of bamboo and wire, with cloth fabric covering the control surfaces, the emphasis was on keeping the aircraft as lightweight as possible. The under-powered engines of the time were barely able to lift the airframe, much less the aviators or any passengers. Engines often quit in-flight, and some had no throttles at all, running full power from start to finish.

Few of the original aircraft exist today due to their short life span before they crashed. They were hard to control, responding in a sluggish manner to the pilot’s input, and were very susceptible to strong winds which turned and rolled the light machines. Stall speed was often within ten knots of the maximum speed of the aircraft, and most climbs were done in steps, leveling off at intervals to regain speed for the rest of the climb. On the ground, the aircraft of 1910 had no brakes, no steer-able wheels, and very hard tires, often making the takeoff and landing periods as entertaining as the flight itself. Flying the early aircraft was an adventure, often ending in death. In 1911, almost one hundred aviators were killed before the year was over, a rather large number when one considers the few aircraft that existed.

By the end of the first decade of flying in Zion, airplanes were using 450 horsepower engines and traveling at speeds of over 140 miles per hour. The aircraft of 1919 were almost entirely designed for the military in World War I, and had proven their worth under extreme conditions in Europe. Instruments such as the compass and altimeter were common, and pilots performed a variety of stunts in several different aircraft. Biplanes were still the design of choice at the end of the decade, but they were not the same species as those in 1910.

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Aviation among the people of Utah began with a brief airshow in January, 1910, and continued to consist primarily of aerial exhibitions until America entered World War I in 1917. Throughout the War, civilian flying was banned, and Utah’s interest in aviation continued through the pilots sent to fly in the Aviation Service. When they returned in 1919, a few of these experienced aviators organized a local flying company and began daily operations of a barnstorming nature in Salt Lake City. At the end of 1919, aviation in Zion was leaning toward the future, planning a new airfield, and preparing for the airmail business that would soon have its first transcontinental applications, and would dominate Utah aviation for the entire decade of the 1920’s.

Aviation’s start in Utah is really a result of the Los Angeles Air Meet of 1910. At this event, Glenn Curtiss flew the first aeroplane in the western United States, with several hundred thousand people watching. As it was an international competition, the daily results of the Air Meet were sent out around the world, and read by millions of people. Salt Lake City officials read the newspaper accounts of the Los Angeles Air Meet, and knew that if they could entice an aviator to perform in Utah, thousands of people would pay to see a flying machine, and the newspapers around the world would provide free advertising for the city by printing the daily news of the events.

City officials decided to recruit a young French pilot and his flying team performing at the Los Angeles Air Meet. While the Wright brothers worked in secret to prevent theft of their discoveries, the French had worked quickly to surpass other countries in aviation. To the French, the aviator was a national hero, a daredevil who instilled aviation fever in crowds of thousands. The pilot Salt Lake City officials sought to recruit was Louis Paulhan, a fourthplace finisher at the 1909 Rheims, France Air Meet, and the star of the Los Angeles exhibition. Paulhan, given the title King of the Air by the press, set a new world altitude record in Los Angeles, and made many enemies of American pilots with his daring stunts and reckless antics. Following the Los Angeles airshow, Paulhan performed in San Francisco for a few days, then boarded a train for his next stop, Salt Lake City. The King was bound for Zion.

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CHAPTER ONE

LOUIS PAULHAN, KING OF THE AIR

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Louis Paulhan was literally on top of the world.

At the Los Angeles Air Meet he had shattered the world altitude record by soaring to 4,165 feet above sea level, surpassing his own prior world record of about 1,900 feet, established the previous month in Europe. Paulhan had sailed higher than any man on earth in a heavier-than-air machine, and was awarded $10,000 in prize money and the title King of the Air for his efforts. While enroute to Salt Lake City aboard the Oregon Short Line Railway, Louis must have reflected upon the hero status he had achieved at age 26. How did a young Frenchman who had been flying no longer than seven months become more wellreceived than American bird-men in their own homeland?

Louis Paulhan had taught himself how to fly in France after purchasing a Voisin aircraft in July, 1909. He received his license from the French Aero Club, and immediately entered the Rheims Air Show in August, 1909. It was here that the little Frenchman exhibited both his natural flying skills and what his peers would later call recklessness. Louis was not tall and had a boyish appearance that made him seem even younger than 26, and his charming and cheerful personality made him an instant favorite with the media and the crowds. At the Rheims Air Meet he was described as daring, plucky, dashing, and reckless...the perfect airshow aviator.

Although his fourth-place finish at Rheims established his aviation talents, his concluding flight also gave credence to the accusations of recklessness. Louis had taken off in his Bleriot monoplane head-on into the path of an aircraft flown by Leon de la Grange, and Paulhan was forced to dive toward the ground to avoid a collision. Louis was too low, however, and his wingtip struck the earth causing the aircraft to cartwheel in a crack-up that ejected the King of the Air from his perch. Louis was thrown clear of the wreckage, and walked away with only a gashed nose and a bruised ego. La Grange, lucky in this incident, was killed five months later when a wing detached from his aircraft in-flight.

Following his Rheims escapades, Paulhan was invited to the Los Angeles Air Meet in January, 1910. He sailed to New York with his wife, two student pilots named Didier Masson and Charles Miscarol, the family French poodle, and a few mechanics. When the great aviator set foot in America, he was immediately served with and injunction resulting from the Wright brothers’ lawsuit for patent infringement. Louis, who later described the Wrights as men of prey, ignored the New York Court Order and shipped his machines from New York to California. Paulhan had brought with him four aircraft, two Farman biplanes and two Bleriot monoplanes, which he had learned to fly only three days before crating them for shipment to America.

At the Los Angeles Air Meet, Paulhan’s informal style and risk-taking promptly earned him the admiration of the spectators and favoritism of the press.

One of his early antics was to take-off from behind the hangar-tents while other aviators were performing, and buzz the grandstand in a surprise attack that left onlookers gasping and fellow aviators angry. Paulhan once swooped in front of Glenn Curtiss, causing Curtiss to nearly lose control of his machine in the propwash, and later Paulhan buzzed ranches and farmers on a daring cross-country flight to the ocean and back. The French aviator was a real pain to his opponents. They complained to no avail about Louis, but was it the safety of themselves and the crowd that concerned them, or was it jealousy of Paulhan’s showmanship? No doubt the crowd loved the little dare-devil and his risky stunts much more that the droning conservatism of the other aviators. Prior to his arrival in Los Angeles, Paulhan had stated he had heard that the only things in California more beautiful than the flowers are the women, resulting in the dashing Frenchman being inundated with requests from ladies seeking the chance to fly with him. Mrs. Paulhan, who had flown with her husband several times, remained close to him always while in America. Probably a coincidence.

Louis Paulhan did not care what others thought, and his non-flying time was spent with his wife. He was sometimes found teaching tricks to his French poodle in the hangar between flights, and once attempted to sneak out of the tent to avoid a Ladies Club group. The best example of Paulhan’s independence was at a Los Angeles Society Dinner scheduled on his behalf. As the eighty selected guests awaited his arrival, Paulhan was dining with friends and family elsewhere. When asked why he had snubbed the gathering, Louis stated that he had avoided an appearance because his traveling companions had not been invited. Friends and family obviously meant more to Paulhan than the egos of socialites and competitors.

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Following a grand parade in Los Angeles that included Ezra Meeker, a famous Oregon Trail wagon train pioneer, the French entourage headed for San Francisco for a three-day exhibition. Paulhan performed before a crowd of about 200,000 people on January 24th, and after his last flight on the 26th, shipped his aircraft by train to Salt Lake City. When the Oregon Short Line delivered Louis Paulhan to Utah on January 29th, he was welcomed by the Deseret News headlines proclaiming that the Air King is Here to Fly.

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Prior to Louis Paulhan’s arrival in Salt Lake City, several weeks of negotiations and preparation had taken place. Sponsoring an Aviation Meet was much more complex than simply inviting a pilot to perform an aerial demonstration for a few hours, and organizing the event required signed contracts, transportation arrangements, advertising, a suitable location, security needs, and money. Concerns about Utah’s weather in January were real, as well as such problems as crowd control and housing for visiting tourists. The handling of these preparatory matters required people of vision and responsibility, and Salt Lake City was fortunate in having such a strong group of people available.

Following the August 1909 Air Meet in France, Salt Lake City began to entertain the idea of hosting an aviation meet. The Commercial Club, forerunner of the Chamber of Commerce, realized that Salt Lake City offered the aviators safety by flying over the Great Salt Lake, and that a successful flight would