Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-06-15

''barnstorming'-tha is to say, 1 was
tramp aviator, peddling exhibition
flights through rural districts where
Mying remained little more than a myth Along
the road came bsckwoods farmer and his
wife, driving to town. The horses SHE'D at
sight Of my plane. SO did the lady. Terrified,
she leaped from the wagon, hid behind . tree
and refused TO bulge.
Want any help with your team?" asked
the man.
Il can manage the hosses" he shouted See
# you can git the old woman past"
That was less than 10 years ago-September,
1921, to be exact. Already wars had been
fought in the air, winged machines had tTav-
ersed oceans, airmail and passenger routes had
been established across the continent. Yet there
dweft, even then. in secluded regions of the
United States, thousands OF persons who never
had beheId an airplane, who did not believe any
machine could be made to fly or who, like the
aforementioned farmers wife, seemed to think
that if such a contraption existed it must be
the work of the devil
Until free-Iance flying began, there was no
Nationwide acceptance Of aviation. Stories of
flying machines had been heard everywhere,
but to many rustic folk believing meant seeing
and they had not yet seen. Then from coast
to coast f1uttered the gypsy" transformers,
reaching all horizons touching every locale,
showing the entire population of America that
mans conquest of the air accomplished
fact.
Vagabonds in every sense of the word we
gypsy pilots who tramped the skies at that
period lived "by guess and by gosh" We took
what pay we could get-wherever and however
We could get It. Frequently meals were not the
least Of our problems.
Gus and Bill for example, went transforming
around Daytona Beach. All they had left IN
the world was their ancient scarecrow of q
"Jenny" (Curtiss JN), half tank of gas two
wolfish appetites and one bright idea
Gus used to be called THE Flying Poet" be-
cause Of his picturesque imagination. He sup
piled the idea. 1t went like this:
WEALTHY ladies wintering at Daytona
w splashed in the sea every afternoon Some
times the undertow dragged one of them beyond
her depth to the peril Of watery grave. Then
out dashed the nfeboat. The rescue party had
been known to receive magnificent rewards
Watch the surf" he told Bill THE next
Tich mamma who yells for help is our meal
ticket. We're going to beat that boat sink old
Jenny and save an heiress. We can't lose"
They watched. Eventually bather screamed.
on hoped Gus and Bill on their last gallon
Of gas. They beat the lifeboat wrecked their
plane in the waves and rescued-a cook from
of the local hotels.
Were ruined" Bill howled when they learned
her identity.
Ruined nothing!" said Gus of the superior
imagination. "a cook is cook Maybe we'll
eat now, anyway"
Aviation today is a national industry, backed
by big business, quoted on Wall Street. But from
1919 to 1928 most of the aviation practiced in
this country was practiced by young tramp pi-
lots, such Gus and Bill-boys who had
learned to fly in the Army and just wouldn't
stop flying.
They had capital behind them, no organ
lied companies, no assured incomes. They
financed themselves, often with resources which
were practically non-existant. They bought
their own planes, made their own repairs, went
after their own contracts, calculated their own
risks, buried their own dead
Every contract transformer signed carried
the names Of three or four substitutes in case
something happened to him before the JOB
came of. There were times when the list wasn't
long enough
My name appeared fourth among those signed
up for exhibition Of stunt flying at the
Trenton state Fair I'M 1920 Ahead of me we're
three veteran performers-Laura Bromwell,
clever girl pilot; Tex Mclaughlin and the famous
Ormer Locklear. None of us reached the fair
grounds. Here's what happened:
Five days before the Trenton engagement
Laura Cromwell crashed to her death irving
to break the womans loop he-loop record On
the following day Ormer Locklear was killed
attempting a plane stunt for the movies
Twenty-four hours later the propeller of a
camera ship cut Tex Mclaughlin to ribbons as
he hung on rope ladder suspended from his
own machine The Trenton job then reverted
TO me. On my way to the fair Topped in a