The same year, 1905, which crowned with most success the private flights of the Wright brothers, brought into unusual prominence the quarter century long experiments of Prof. J. J. Montgomery of Santa Clara College, Santa Clara, Cal. He had given much attention to the science of aviation, particularly to passive flight, and had constructed several successful gliders operated by himself or his friends. The most remarkable of these machines was a glider resembling in general appearance Langley’s tandem monoplane, but having means for changing the wing curvature during flight, thus varying the lift on such wing, and thereby enabling the operator to control the equilibrium and direction during his glides in the air.
On April 29, 1905, a forty-five pound glider of this pattern bearing an intrepid parachute jumper, Daniel Maloney, was lifted from the college grounds by a hot-air balloon to an elevation of 4,000 feet, then cut loose. “In the course of the descent,” writes one of his pupils, “the most extraordinary and complex maneuvers were accomplished—spiral and circling turns being executed with an ease and grace almost beyond description, level travel accomplished with the wind and against it, figure-eight evolutions performed without difficulty, and hair-raising dives were terminated by abrupt checking of the movement by changing the angles of the wing surfaces. At times the speed, as estimated by eye-witnesses, was over sixty-eight miles an hour, and yet after a flight of approximately eight miles in twenty minutes the machine was brought to rest upon a previously designated spot, three-quarters of a mile from where the balloon had been released, so lightly that the aviator was not even jarred, despite the fact that he was compelled to land on his feet, not on a special alighting gear.” This daring performance amazed the world, and most of all, the specialists who all along knew such a feat to be practicable. As a further description of Professor Montgomery’s wonderful experiments may interest the reader, the following account, written by himself, is inserted from Aëronautics for January, 1909:
“When I commenced practical demonstration in my work with aëroplanes I had before me three points. First, equilibrium; second, complete control; and third, long continued or soaring flight. In starting I constructed and tested three sets of models, each in advance of the other in regard to the continuance of their soaring powers, but all equally perfect as to equilibrium and control. These models were tested by dropping them from a cable stretched between two mountain tops, with various loads, adjustments and positions. And it made no difference whether the models were dropped upside down or in any other conceivable position, they always found their equilibrium immediately and glided safely to earth.
“Then I constructed a large machine patterned after the first model, and with the assistance of three cowboy friends personally made a number of flights in the steep mountains near San Juan (a hundred miles distant). In making these flights I simply took the aëroplane and made a running jump. These tests were discontinued after I put my foot in a squirrel hole, in landing, and hurt my leg.
PLATE XXI.
MONTGOMERY’S AËROPLANE.
“The following year I commenced the work on a larger scale, by engaging aëronauts to ride my aëroplane dropped from balloons. During this work I used five hot-air balloons and one gas balloon, five or six aëroplanes, three riders—Maloney, Wilkie and Defolco—and had sixteen applicants on my list and had a training station to prepare any when I needed them.
“Exhibitions were given in Santa Cruz, San José, Santa Clara, Oakland and Sacramento. The flights that were made, instead of being haphazard affairs, were in the order of safety and development. In the first flight of an aëronaut the aëroplane was so arranged that the rider had little liberty of action, consequently he could make only a limited flight. In some of the first flights, the aëroplane did little more than settle in the air. But as the rider gained experience in each successive flight I changed the adjustments, giving him more liberty of action, so he could obtain longer flights and more varied movements in the flights. But in none of the flights did I have the adjustments so that the riders had full liberty, as I did not consider that they had the requisite knowledge and experience necessary for their safety; and hence, none of my aëroplanes were launched so arranged that the rider could make adjustments necessary for a full flight.
“This line of action caused a good deal of trouble with aëronauts or riders who had unbounded confidence and wanted to make long flights after the first few trials, but I found it necessary as they seemed slow in comprehending the important elements and were too willing to take risks. To give them the full knowledge in these matters I was formulating plans for a large starting station on the Mount Hamilton Range from which I could launch an aëroplane capable of carrying two, one of my aëronauts and myself, so I could teach him by demonstration. But the disasters consequent on the great earthquake, completely stopped all my work on these lines. The flights that were given were only the first of the series with aëroplanes patterned after the first model. There were no aëroplanes constructed according to the two other models, as I had not given the full demonstration of the workings of the first, though some remarkable and startling work was done. On one occasion, Maloney in trying to make a very short turn during rapid flight pressed very hard on the stirrup which gives a screw shape to the wings and made a side somersault. The course of the machine was very much like one turn of a corkscrew. After this movement, the machine continued on its regular course. And afterwards Wilkie, not to be outdone by Maloney, told his friends he would do the same, and in a subsequent flight, made two side somersaults, one in one direction and the other in an opposite, then made a deep dive and a long glide, and when about three hundred feet in the air, brought the aëroplane to a sudden stop and settled to the earth. After these antics, I decreased the extent of the possible change in the form of wing surface so as to allow only straight sailing or only long curves in turning.
“During my work I had a few carping critics that I silenced by this standing offer: If they would deposit a thousand dollars I would cover it on this proposition. I would fasten a 150-pound sack of sand in the rider’s seat, make the necessary adjustments, and send up an aëroplane upside down with a balloon, the aëroplane to be liberated by a time fuse. If the aëroplane did not immediately right itself, make a flight, and come safely to the ground, the money was theirs.
“Now a word in regard to the fatal accident.[47] The circumstances are these: The ascension was given to entertain a military company in which were many of Maloney’s friends, and he had told them he would give the most sensational flight they ever heard of. As the balloon was rising with the aëroplane, a guy rope dropping switched around the right wing and broke the tower that braced the two rear wings and which also gave control over the tail. We shouted Maloney that the machine was broken but he probably did not hear us, as he was at the same time saying ‘Hurrah for Montgomery’s air ship,’ and as the break was behind him, he may not have detected it. Now did he know of the breakage or not, and if he knew of it did he take a risk so as not to disappoint his friends? At all events, when the machine started on its flight the rear wings commenced to flap (thus indicating they were loose), the machine turned on its back and settled a little faster than a parachute. When we reached Maloney he was unconscious and lived only thirty minutes. The only mark of any kind on him was a scratch from a wire on the side of his neck. The six attending physicians were puzzled at the cause of his death. This is remarkable for a vertical descent of over 2,000 feet.”