Echoes from Dawn Skies: Early Aviators: A Lost Manuscript Rediscovered

By Frederick Warren Merriam

No one could doubt that Frederick Warren Merriam was one of the earliest and most important of Britain’s aviation pioneers. Indeed, he taught many of the others to fly; men such as Air Chief Marshal Sir Philip Joubert de la Ferte, Air Commodore P.F.M. Fellowes (who led the aerial Houston Everest Expedition), and Sub-Lieutenant R.A.J. Warneford VC, the first pilot to down a Zeppelin. In his later years, Merriam decided that he wanted to compile a book that presented ‘a more personal and intimate picture than has yet been produced by aviation history writers of the civil pioneers of British flying’. It was no simple task. ‘Some two years ago,’ Merriam continued, ‘I conceived an idea and set to work most energetically to hunt up all the survivors of those wonderful days, to ask them if they would each contribute a story of a personal nature, something that had never before been published. It was a tall order and admittedly my hopes were not too high of finding sufficient material of the sort to fill a book. A tireless search ensued for more than a year. Many obstacles and disappointments assailed me. Of some “oldtimers” no trace could be found, others had passed on and one or two were too tired to trouble. However, after a little gentle persuasion [many] made the effort.’ The remarkable collection of stories that Merriam gathered together was never published, his death in 1956 curtailing the project. For more than sixty years the manuscript lay hidden away, all but forgotten, until it was rediscovered in 2013.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: May 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781526726216

Frederick Warren Merriam

Frederick Warren Merriam was born Frederick Warren but changed his name by deed poll in 1901 to Merriam after being befriended and sponsored in his flying aspirations by an American, Olin Merriam. At the controls of a Bristol Box-kite, in 1912 he was the first pilot in Britain to fly through cloud. Later, as manager and chief instructor of the Bristol Flying School at Brooklands, he had many pupils who subsequently became famous. At the outbreak of the First World War Merriam was the most senior flying instructor in Britain; he duly became chief instructor to the R.N.A.S. at Hendon and later at Chingford. In 1922 he founded Britain’s first gliding school, near Shanklin, Isle of Wight. It was only the toss of a coin at the Royal Aero Club which decided that Alcock, rather than Merriam, should accompany Whitten-Brown on the first direct transatlantic flight. Forever linked with the earliest days of British aviation, Merriam died at Christchurch, Hampshire, on 12 November 1956 at the age of 76.

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Preface

The author, Capt Frederick Warren Merriam, at the controls of a Bristol Boxkite in 1911. (F.W. Merriam Archive)

Following my autobiography First Through The Clouds, the principal aim in writing this volume has been to present a more personal and intimate picture than has yet been produced by aviation history writers of the civilian pioneers of flying.

I thought only a participant of these early struggles and risks could aspire to this, entirely overlooking the fact that I was the last person, in the literary sense, to do so. Therefore, I crave indulgence in this respect. If I have failed to reach my aim, it is certainly not for lack of trying.

Some two years ago, I conceived an idea and set to work most energetically to hunt up all the survivors of those wonderful days, to ask them if they would each contribute a story of a personal nature, something that had never before been published.

It was a tall order and admittedly my hopes were not too high of finding sufficient material of the sort to fill a book.

An indefatigable search ensued for over a year. Many obstacles and disappointments assailed me. Of some old-timers no trace could be found; others had passed on, and one or two were too tired to trouble.

However, after a little gentle persuasion, these eventually made the effort, and I am happy now in expressing my grateful thanks to all for their co-operation.

Each contributor had no idea what the others were writing about and I must apologise if there appears to be a few minor repetitions of references to names and incidents as a result. But for the infallible help of my dear wife, who is my junior by some years, and my daughter Betty – who, despite her busy life, came forward to type my manuscript – the task would have been too great for me to complete.

Sad to say, seven of the pioneers who contributed to these pages died during the compilation of this book. They are as follows:

Sir Francis McClean, Freddy Raynham, Robert Blackburn, Frank Halford, Bill Lawford, Lord Trenchard, and Sir Robert Fairey.

God bless them.

F. W. M.

Autumn 1956

Brooklands

8 Victoria Road,

Christchurch,

Hampshire

Chapter 1

The Dawn of a Great Era

Until the last half of the 19th century this lovely old world of ours was, comparatively, a quiet, lazy and peaceful place. The countryside was clean and fresh. The scent of nature was not contaminated by the smell of motor traffic. The sounds, too, had a restful, peaceful effect on the human senses.

People went their way by rail, by ship, and by horse-drawn conveyance. Occasionally there would be a balloon making its way silently and majestically across the sky.

So, let us go back over the years and pretend we have halted the colossal roar, rattle and noise of the present mechanical age. In our imagination, we hear only the pleasant clippity-clop, clippity-clop of a horse’s hooves; the chatter of the birds; and the rustling of the trees. It is all so soothing; all so undisturbed.

Yes, you will say, but all so slow, surely. What about progress? Well, progress was there all right. Just around the corner. Motoring was making a timid entry into our midst. France was already well advanced in the field. England was slower, more reluctant to accept this noisy newcomer, but nevertheless it was having a forceful influence upon a few of us. And I confess, now with some reluctance and guilt, to being one of the first to weaken to that influence.

Adventure was always the ruling passion within me. I was soon helping to raise the dust on one of those new-fangled Triumph motorcycles. Then, in 1901, I had an 8 h.p. De Dion-Bouton motor car. Later there were others.

Horse lovers and car owners of those days will remember many amusing and even pitiful incidents. Specially do I remember the hostility we car owners encountered with the London cabbies; the rude retorts and rebukes when our motors upset and frightened their horses.

But the period of leisurable motoring was not too short-lived, and it was certainly crammed with excitement and interest, despite the hazardous job of mending punctures. People were shy of the combustion carriage for a long while. So the proud owners of automobiles were few and far between.

F.W. Merriam’s first taxi-driving licence, dated 1903. It is captioned in the family album Paid for and signed by his father, Charles Warren. (F.W. Merriam Archive)

Motoring was making a timid entry into our midst – in the shape of such vehicles as this 1902 Type O De Dion-Bouton car. The driver is Maybe F.W. Merriam or his father, says the modern caption in a Merriam family album. (F.W. Merriam Archive)

Then, almost simultaneously, another menace to our future peace was threatening. Our flying pioneers were becoming active in yet another mad adventure. Maniacs! That is what we were called. And, in fact, we were truly delirious with a high, fierce fever, which was known as Metal Fever and Airitis.

Chapter 2

Famous Brothers and Balloon Fashions Hugh Oswald Short

This image records a meeting at Mussel Manor, Isle of Sheppey, Kent, on 4 May, 1909, where the Aero Club (Royal Aero Club from 1910) established its flying grounds. It involved the Short Bros (Oswald, Horace & Eustace in back row at left), Francis K. McLean, Griffith Brewer, Frank Hedges Butler, Dr W.J.S. Lockyer; and in the front row J.T.C. Moore-Brabazon, the Wright Bros (Wilbur & Orville) and The Hon Charles S. Rolls. (Philip Jarrett)

It was on 1 August, 1898, that Hugh Oswald Short made his first balloon ascent. He took off from Teddington with his brothers, Horace and Eustace, and an hour later the trio landed near the pond and windmill on Wimbledon Common, only eight miles away.

Their aircraft company was founded in 1908, but their aeronautical activities actually started some three years before. I possess a very amusing price list printed in 1905, with the brothers’ name and London address advertising in bold letters – Makers of large Passenger and Captive Balloons, War Balloons, and all kinds of aeronautical apparatus. Aeronauts to the principal fêtes and galas throughout Great Britain.

I think the making of those balloons gave Oswald Short his idea for his Silver Streak, a forerunner of the stressed-skin construction which revolutionised aviation.

The brothers concentrated chiefly on seaplanes and flying-boats. Oswald Short, in 1910, designed the gas compartment valves and differential gauges for the first British rigid airship, The Mayfly. After experimenting with Duralumin as a medium for aircraft construction and producing the first Duralumin ribs for aeroplane wings he invented, designed and produced, in 1919, the first stressed-skin all-metal flying-boat hull. And, of course, we all know too well what wonderful work the Sunderland flying-boats did in the last war.

In the following story Oswald Short tells of how the toss of a coin decided who should be the first man in the world actually to fly – Orville Wright:

Wilbur and Orville Wright, of the United States of America, were the first men in the world to invent, construct and to fly themselves a man-carrying, power-driven aeroplane. They were bicycle makers, from a small workshop, and very little capital resources. They made every part of their aeroplane themselves, even the engine, and worked from mere sketches which they did not even trouble to keep.

After some glider experiments they flew their first aeroplane in 1903. In a small wind tunnel, four feet square [actually 16in x 16in – Ed.], they tested models and discovered how the centre of pressure, or lift from the air, moved backwards or forwards according to the inclination of the wings. That was of vital importance since it enabled them to build the biplane wings in such a manner that the centre of pressure could never move forward of the front spar and the supporting wires and struts.

Having built their aeroplane, the brothers tossed a coin to decide who should attempt the first flight. Wilbur won but failed to get into the air. Orville then took over the pilot’s seat and flew for twelve seconds, with full control. Thus, the younger brother became the first man to fly an aeroplane. But Wilbur did most, if not all, of the flying afterwards.

When the brothers came to fly their machine in Europe in 1908, the French pioneers, the Voisin brothers and Henry Farman, had also made considerable progress, particularly the latter.

Farman could fly for many minutes at the time, but Wilbur Wright flew for well over an hour, landing only when his petrol was exhausted. His machine of 1908, of course, was not the original machine of 1903. It was more robust and powered with a French engine made by the firm of Bariquand & Marre, but the principle of the aircraft’s construction was the same.

Whilst the Wright brothers were making their first aeroplane the late Professor Langley, who was connected in some way with the Smithsonian Museum, was experimenting with several large models which flew well. The United States Government supplied him with funds which ultimately amounted to more than £30,000. When the professor made his man-carrying aeroplane, however, and launched it twice unsuccessfully with a pilot, from a floating platform, the machine dropped off the end of the platform and fell into the river. The pilot received a ducking but was uninjured. Langley then ceased his experiments.

The first Wright aeroplane, which had flown in 1903, was placed in the Smithsonian Museum bearing the label, The First Man Carrying Aeroplane. In 1914, however, an American aircraft designer and constructor [Glenn H. Curtiss] said that he could make the Langley machine fly. He was allowed to take the machine out of the Museum, and then he fitted it with a modern engine and propeller and altered the structure so that the centre of pressure could never move forward of the front wing spar and bracing. The machine was then flown successfully at Hammondsport.

Afterwards it was altered to its original structure and condition and replaced in the Museum. The label was then taken off the Wright aeroplane and placed on the Langley machine.

My friend, the late Mr Griffith Brewer, persuaded the Wright brothers to send their first aeroplane to the Science Museum at South Kensington, London, and there it remained for many years. In his book Fifty Years of Flying, on pages 14–15 he said: It was by collecting evidence of changes made in the Langley machine between 1902 and its trial in 1914, but not reported, and then by reading a paper before the Royal Aeronautical Society, in 1922, on the Langley machine and the Hammondsport trials, that exposure of this now classical fraud was completed. It is a pity that Wilbur Wright died before those facts were proved. But it is pleasing to know that Orville lived to see the world’s first aeroplane returned to the United States and installed in Washington with suitable ceremony.

It should be recorded that Professor Langley was no party to what happened in 1914 because he was not alive then, and, as he was a scientist, I feel sure he would have deplored it.

The Wright brothers did not make a big fortune out of their invention, but they made all that was necessary to enable them to live in comfort. In May 1922, I invited Griffith Brewer to accompany me to the USA, and we spent a week with Orville Wright and his sister Katie (Katharine) at Dayton. At the time, they had staying with them also the famous Arctic explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson.

Taken in 1922, this photograph shows Orville Wright (left) at home in Dayton, USA, with Arctic explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson, Miss Katharine Wright and Oswald Short. (F.W. Merriam Archive)

Orville Wright and his sister had a small but beautifully appointed house, with a tiled bathroom to every bedroom. All the bedrooms and doors were fitted with wire gauze to prevent flies, which are a plague at that time of year in the USA.

When we were having dinner one night I was much amused when Miss Wright jumped up saying, Oh, there is a fly in the house. Then with a cloth she chased it out of the front door. At night time swarms of glow-flies flew with their shining lamps, and so slowly that you could, without being quick, catch them in your hand. The light goes out then but when you release the fly he glows again.

Wilbur had lived in that house, and looking back I am pleased to know that the Wright brothers, after a long struggle, gained some reward and lived a happy life [actually Wilbur died in 1912, before the house was completed – Ed.].

Finally, I think it should be mentioned that the funds for transferring the original Wright machine to the United States and for its proper installation there – of course, the cost was considerable – were raised by Colonel Richard Gimbel USAF, who founded the Wright Foundation Trust, and produced a Silver Gilt Medallion showing the Wright brothers in profile. Colonel Gimbel became Professor of Air Science and Tactics at Yale University.

The author has much pride in copying the foregoing story direct from the pen of Oswald Short himself. It portrays the great personal understanding and friendship that existed between the Wrights and the Shorts. Hugh Oswald Short, HonFRAeS, FZS, FRAS, Hon Life President of Messrs Short Bros & Harland Ltd, Belfast, is the last survivor of these two sets of famous brothers.

Oswald Short in later life. He died in 1969, having survived his brothers by some decades. (F.W. Merriam Archive)

Before leaving the subject of ballooning, I would like to introduce that well-known and much respected personality in the aviation world whose name and work doubtlessly befits these early pages, that of Colonel Harry Delacombe OBE FRAeS. He has taken an active part in aviation since he retired from the Royal Navy in 1892.

At eighty-five years of age he was the founder member of the Royal Aeronautical Society and of the Royal Aero Club. At one time, he was the air correspondent for The Times. In the old days, one would always see him, with his long telescope tucked underneath his arm, officiating at aviation meetings.

The following is the story of his first balloon trip. It was in 1907, before the aeroplane came into practical existence, and his job, as The Times aeronautical correspondent at that time, was to cover the Gordon Bennett and other international balloon contests, and describe and various airships taking part:

It