The exact nature of the accident was never ascertained, but it was surmised that the sudden starting of his engine preparatory to landing overstressed some part of the structure already fatigued from hard usage. However this be, the committee recognized that Chavez had with excellent skill covered all the really difficult and dangerous part of this journey. Accordingly they very generously waived the exact letter of the rules, and awarded him one half the prize, though he had completed but one third of the journey.
Quite as dangerous, spectacular and brilliant as the flight across the Alps, though less arduous, was Hubert Latham’s aërial voyage over Baltimore. On previous occasions cross-city flights had been made, but never one of such length or one executed under such exacting conditions. At various times aviators had flown above Paris, Rome, Berlin, etc. On October 14th Mr. White had flown across Washington, landing on a narrow street between the White House and War Department; on October 15th Leganeaux had flown above Paris with a passenger; but these were short flights over an uncharted course. Latham’s voyage was unique; for he had to follow a long and a prescribed course over the business section and closely built residence portion of the city. This great exploit was an exhibition flight made on the invitation of the Baltimore Sun for a sum of $5,000. It was to be made at the time of the Baltimore aviation tournament at Halethorpe, Md., and was calculated to be seen by half a million people; for the whole city was to be notified and would cease its usual activities to witness the rare and hazardous demonstration.
The voyage was triumphant and glorious in every feature. Starting from the aviation ground, seven miles south of Baltimore, about noon on November 7th, Latham drove his beautiful Antoinette about the field in an ascending spiral, like some imperial bird taking its bearings; then, chart in hand, deliberately sailed away over his elaborately prescribed journey. This was a figure 8 course with its bottom at the aviation field and its center at the Sun Building in the heart of Baltimore, the whole length being 22 miles. As the long-winged bird in majestic poise, with the intrepid rider on its back, approached in the distance, soaring 1,000 feet above the gleaming waters of the Chesapeake, the great bell of the City Hall sounded a mighty peal, and the whole populace responded in tumultuous chorus; whistles, bells and a myriad voices mingling their heartiest welcome to the bravest of aviators. With arrowlike speed and directness he rounded the center of the course at the Sun Building, then looped the vast northern half of the city, flying a thousand to three thousand feet high, more easily to parry the surging eddies of the northwest wind; rounded again the center of his course and then returned to the aviation field, where he landed with infinite coolness before the excited throng of applauding spectators, whose acclaim was all too feeble to express their mingled wonder, admiration and delight. The voyage lasted forty-two minutes and fulfilled perfectly every minute requirement, including a short circle and salutation before the home of Mr. Ross Winans, an invalid gentleman who had solicited this unique favor, and rewarded it with a gift of $500. It was the climax of the aviation week at Baltimore.
Among the many brilliant flights of that memorable year of strenuous piloting will long be remembered the voyage of the Hon. C. S. Rolls to Calais and return without landing, and that of Mr. Sopwith, already recounted; the splendid flight of Mr. Clifford B. Harmon in his Farman biplane from Mineola, Long Island, to a small rounded island before his house on the Connecticut shore, for the trophy offered by Country Life to the first person who should fly across Long Island Sound; Henri Farman’s flight of December 18th, for the Michelin long-distance prize, covering 288 miles, and establishing a new endurance record of 8 hours 23 minutes; Mlle. Helene Dutrieu’s flight of December 21st, for the Coupe Femina, covering 103¾ miles in 2 hours and 35 minutes in a Farman biplane. Interesting, too, were the first attempt to fly from Paris to Brussels with a passenger, when Mahieu and Manihé on starting were brought to bay by a vicious dog which violently attacked the propeller and was cut in two; and when Loridan and Fay landed on a tree, from which they descended by a ladder. After this followed the glorious voyage of Henri Wijnmalen, the youthful and many-sided Dutch sport, for the prize of 150,000 francs offered by the Automobile Club of France for the quickest aëroplane trip not exceeding 36 hours, with a passenger from Paris to Brussels and return. This voyage of some 320 miles was valiantly accomplished by Wijnmalen and his companion Dufour, in a day and a half, of 13.2 effective hours, and in weather for the most part windy or tempestuous. Finally to the foregoing list of splendid achievements must be added the glorious voyage of John Moisant, who in August flew with a passenger, by compass, from Paris to London, though he had never been over the route before and had only just learned to use an aëroplane.
The International Aviation Tournament of 1910, held at Belmont Park, Long Island, October 22d to 31st, was the most prominent and eventful meet of the year, and the second of its kind in history, as the meeting of the preceding year at Rheims was the first. The present meet was conducted by the Aëro Corporation, Limited, of New York, under the auspices and official sanction of the Aëro Club of America, representing the Federation Aëronautique Internationale.
This tournament was the annual aërial Olympic contest of the world, and should have been indicative not only of the aviator’s skill, but also of the state of national progress in the science and art of aëroplane construction. Unfortunately, however, for the prestige of the most deserving nations, the rules of the International Aëronautic Federation did not confine the contestants to the use of home-built machines, to prevent the glory of winning the international contest from passing to the nation which merely furnished the operator, a person who might be an illiterate jockey, and representative of a country wholly devoid of science. As luck decided, however, the highest honor in 1910 was won by a first-class French machine driven by a first-class English aviator.
In some respects the raw material and working elements of this meet were most satisfactory. The site is near the wealthiest and most populous center in America. The grounds are spacious and level, and provided with all the equipment of a great race course; the transportation facilities by carriage and by rail from the heart of New York are adequate to every requirement. The personnel of the meet comprised the most experienced and most devoted members of the Aëro Club of America, the oldest and strongest aëronautical body in the western world, and the only one representing the International Aëronautic Federation. It is true the season was late and the weather would probably be cold and tempestuous; the management was burdened by a costly license, whether just or unjust, imposed upon it as the price of immunity from patent litigation; the remaining time, after the final placement of the meet, was all too short for the myriad preparations to be made. But whatever the obstacles, physical or financial, the personnel was paramount, and naturally made the huge tournament a glorious triumph. It was the cardinal sporting event of the year.
The status of aviation was well represented in both pilots and machines. Twenty-seven aviators were entered on the program, many of them world famous. Of these Alfred Le Blanc, Hubert Latham, Emile Aubrun were the formidable champions of France in the contest for the James Gordon Bennett aviation trophy; Claude Grahame-White, James Radley, A. Ogilvie represented England; while Walter Brookins, J. A. Drexel, Charles K. Hamilton were enlisted as defenders of the coveted cup and of American prestige. All told, the aviators brought with them nearly two-score machines, ranging in capacity from 30 to 100 horse power. Of these about half were monoplanes and half biplanes, for the most part of French and American manufacture.
The prizes and remuneration awarded to the contestants were on a scale proportionate to their skill and number. All told the winnings aggregated more than $60,000. Further appropriations were made to cover the expenses of the aviators, and a further sum equal to about forty per cent of the winnings was paid for immunity from prosecution for possible infringement of an unlitigated patent. Considering the immense expenditures for buildings, for policing and other incidentals of the meet, it may be readily inferred that there was an ample deficit, and that the air men as a whole were much better rewarded than some of the sportsmen who gave so much time and labor to the organization of the tournament.
A conspicuous feature of the meet was the display of hardiness and skill of several of the aviators in facing the cold and tempestuous weather. This was particularly characteristic of Latham in his Antoinette monoplane, and of Ralph Johnstone and Arch Hoxsey in Wright biplanes. On October 27th Latham flew round the regular course for an hour when it was nearly impossible to turn the pylons against the fierce wind, while Johnstone and Hoxsey performed lofty altitude flights in a powerful gale which carried them backward, sometimes at the rate of 40 miles an hour. As a consequence they landed in the open country, remained overnight and returned next day. Johnstone was carried backward to Holtsville, 55 miles east of the aviation grounds, and Hoxsey was blown to Brentwood, 25 miles away, both landing at dusk in open fields, and both having attained great elevations: Hoxsey, 6,903 feet; Johnstone, 8,471 feet.