Saturday, October 21, 2006 1:16 AM CDT
Wright Brothers -- An improbable idea gets off the ground
By HAL MALEHORN
The story that is usually told about the origins of heavier-than-air flight is a simplistic one: a couple of bicycle mechanics from Dayton, Ohio, travel to a North Carolina beach. There they build a glider, add an engine, and after several airborne hops, introduce the world to aviation.
In reality, of course, the tale is much more complex: long before Kitty Hawk (and long after), the Wright brothers spent countless hours studying the primitive science of aeronautics. During several years at Kitty Hawk, they completed a thousand glider flights, with attendant crashes. And then the motorized version of their glider was flown hundreds of time, often with disastrous results.
All the time they were at Kitty Hawk the two slept on bare boards; ate spartan fare; endured biting winter winds; and repeatedly wrangled their cumbersome craft back into starting position through ankle-deep sand. During the summers, in turn, the two were challenged by sand fleas, mosquitoes, thirst and rain.
And after their 1903 success, there followed numberless hours of tinkering back in their Dayton shack, hundreds more experimental powered flights at nearby Huffman Prairie, and several near-fatal crashes, with attendant bruises and broken bones.
And that was just a beginning.
The real beginning, of course, was the birth of the two boys, Wilbur (1867) and Orville (1871), in Indiana. Their father was a respected bishop and editor of a church newspaper, the publication of which necessitated the family’s moving to Ohio.
In Dayton the pair made and sold bicycles -- especially the new ones featuring front and rear wheels of the same size. By then direct pedaling had been replaced by sprocket-chain drive; the tires were filled with air; ball bearings and shaped saddles provided a comfortable ride; and a V-frame provided access for the more decorous of women cyclists.
At some point the young brothers became fascinated with aeronautics; they read everything available about the German glider experimenter, Otto Lilienthal, the abortive powered attempts of Samuel Langley on (and into) the Potomac, and the theorizing of Octave Chanute, a Frenchman who had migrated to America.
One question that seemed to puzzle all would-be birdmen, however, was how to control a motorized craft, once it got airborne. The Wright brothers, after moving their operation to Kitty Hawk, built their own bi-winged glider and flew it under varying conditions into the teeth of Atlantic gales. Often it had to be repaired -- sometimes from scratch.
As they flew, they discovered that by changing the shape of the wings in flight, the glider achieved greater stability and control. This process they called “wingwarping,” an effect produced nowadays by ailerons.
Eventually the Wrights built a larger version of their glider, installed wires and a movable seat such that the pilot could warp the wings aloft by moving his hips, placed a canard on front and a rudder on the rear, and added a small engine.
Two 8-foot “pusher” wooden propellers, shaped to provide thrust, were mounted facing the rear, so as not to interfere with air flow over the wings.
A tall wooden power was erected on the slope of Kill Devil Hill, and a load of heavy weights was indirectly connected to the aircraft by means of a rope and pulleys. The airplane rested on skids, which were placed upon a rail laid on the sand; when the weights fell, the entire device providing a primitive catapult into the wind.
This first airplane, christened “Flyer,” was launched on Dec. 17, 1903. It flew a measly 120 feet. But that flight (and the subsequent, more extensive ones at Kitty Hawk) was witnessed by helpers assembled from the beachfront lifesaving station. Then, too, the Wrights had a camera at the ready to document their feats.
Following their initial triumph, the pair telegraphed the news to their father in Dayton, and released for publication a brief news report. However, the nation’s newspapers were underwhelmed, giving only brief notice, if any, to the event. Eventually the Associated Press relented and distributed the story to all its subscribers.
Within a short while most of the nation had discovered that mankind, after many years of dreaming and working, had achieved heavier-than-air flight.
The excitement that this achievement generated one not-unexpected outcome: then, as later, a handful of inventors claimed that, in truth, it was they who had been the first to fly and thus deserved the acclaim that was being accorded the Wrights.
Some of these men were outright charlatans, assuring the public they had done marvelous things that were never observed or otherwise documented. Others were tinkerers who invented aircraft that unwittingly violated patents that the Wrights ultimately received. As it turned out, the courts generally upheld the Wrights’ contentions that they were first to fly. And most aeronautical societies, along with national governments, agreed.
The Wrights next big task was to convince someone to purchase their new machine. Unhappily, most agencies viewed the airplane merely as a sophisticated toy, with no practical application. However, several private concerns bought copies of the craft for barnstorming purposes. Daring aviators thrilled paying crowds gathered to observe the new phenomenon. And, over the next few years, many aviators lost their lives in flimsy machines.
Eventually, the U.S. Army accepted the airplane as a means of observing battlefield action. Indeed, some optimists believed that the airplane would eliminate all wars, because each side in battle could see beforehand what their enemies were up to. Obviously, World War I would prove such dreamers wrong.
Two unhappy events marred the Wrights’ otherwise spectacular advance: first, in 1908, while Orville was airborne demonstrating their latest plane’s capabilities, the aircraft crashed, severely injuring Orville and killing his passenger, Lt. Thomas Selfridge. Shortly thereafter, in 1912, Wilbur died of typhoid fever.
Orville carried on for many years, seeing the airplane become a commercial success, and, during World War II, a defining mechanism in ensuring the Allies’ triumph. He died in 1948.
Long before then Orville had commented that he and Wilbur had experienced all the troubles of Jonah. It was truly fortunate that, in confronting those troubles, the two had steadfastly exhibited the patience of Job.
Hal Malehorn portrays Alfred Balch at Lincoln Log Cabin State Historic Site.
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