Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-03-15


new tri-motors slid into the airport
to gas up for the last leg to the coast
She was splendid big truck, metal
built throughout, and saw from my
list that she had IL passengers for California.
Through the windows in the fuselage watched
the white-coated steward serving coffee and
sandwiches and / could not help thinking,
tr1tely enough how times and planes and men
had changed since my early days in the game,
when merely to leave the ground was an exploit
Such thoughts, inevitably, were melancholy
thoughts because they included memories OF
manv fine fellows who had died in crack-ups
through the years-jaunty pioneers in checker
cred caps and Norfolk jackets who with their
fraiI planes and sadly makeshift motors had
blazed the worlds first air trails
wondered what those men could have done
with present-day ships and whether any of
our modern pilots would dare to take one of the
old experimental buses off the ground. For
it required great nerve and still greater skill
to fly those curious rule-of-thumb rattetraps
yes, and certain peculiarities of temperament
common to explorers, pirates deep-sea divers
and tight-rope walkers which felt were lack
ing in our current breed of aviators
The day of stunt flying had come much later,
of course but even so, almost 20 years had
passed since Pegoud looped the loop in France,
and Beachey the Incompatible Beachey, had
promptly done likewise for the honor OF
America Well Beachey was dead. So were
MacGordon and Walsh and Janus and Steven
son and Niles and Kearney and
PUT the list, it seemed. endless. was
still running through it in my mind as the
tri-motor reared down the concrete runway,
climbed up. and headed toward the setting sun
I went over to my Office to flash her take-of
time to the Pacific terminal and found Mulhan,
the pilot who had been relieved, writing his
report and smoking my cigarettes.
Hey" he said. do you believe in ghosts?"
"Only the kind that walk on payday"
told him. "Why?"
aerial one. Sort of flying Flying Dutchman,
if you know what mean"
"I don't" said do you?"
s'Wen no, not exactly" he answered. And
that's just the trouble Look, Tom, you're an
old-timer in the game-what would you call
this?" With his fountain pen he started sketch
ing on the back of the report pad. I'm not
sure of all the details" he said but here's just
about what it looked like"
pulled the pad across the desk and laughed
THAT? Why, I'd call that Curtiss pusher
bplane with interplane ailerons and shoulder
yoke control vintage of nineteen ten or eleven"
"Sure" he said. 81 figured it must be one OF
those antediluvian crates Well, well, that's
mighy strange"
'sWhat is?" I asked "You don't mean to
air? Why shucks, Mulhall, the only one in
existence is in the Smithsonian in Washington"
'"Then it must have escaped" declared Null
hall because did see it in the air. Just the
other side of the mountains, at Alp O'Clock
this afternoon. Altitude $3.50 feet, wind north
northeast, visibility excellent, and me on the
water wagon since my recent and twenty-third
birthday. There I was, blowing along all Sc
rene. when suddenly spot this flaming chariot
barging around cloud of to the left and
little above me-"
"Then you're not hdding?' I asked.
mot a nickel's worth! But 1 see where I'll
be kidded aplenty, when this story gets around
Part Of it's kind of, WELL humiliating ~
"Come on, spill the whole of it." I urged.
"You know it's safe with me-"
well maybe" he said. Anyway there 1
was and there was the old crate. wanted to
see Just what kind of relic it was, SO I swung
over toward it and throtted down to 65. Sitting
out in front in that openwork seat was an old
red-faced guy with white hair and mustache,
and he wasn't wearing any helmet or goggles
but just a dirty mackinaw and checkered cap
turned backward. Regular old yahoo he was.
''Wen, 1 waved up at him, all pleasant and
polite expecting him TO do the same. But the
next thing 1 know, the old coot bucks sideways
in that trick seat of his and down he comes
Whistling at me-swis-s-h!-in q spiral that
wouldn't have overapped dime He was
banked up vertical and tipping around so tight
and fast it made dizzy to watch him. Just
as it looks like he's going to ram us, he whips
her out of the spiral and dives straight at us,
missing the top OF my head by a bright red
hair Holding the wheel with hand, he
was"
zone hand?" repeated why, what was
he doing with the other one?"