Entering the office of the secretary of the Aëro Club he said:
“I believe our contract with the owners of Dominguez Field provides that the Aëro Club may have the use of the grounds whenever it so desires, regardless of any other engagements by outsiders.”
“Certainly,” replied the secretary. “I remember you yourself insisted upon that condition, as chairman of the committee on arrangements.”
“Please notify the manager that we require Dominguez Field, for Club purposes, every day for the next two weeks.”
“But—Mr. Burthon! Think of the expense.”
“I shall personally pay all charges.”
“Very well.”
The secretary telephoned, and was informed that the Field had been engaged that morning for the coming Saturday by a Mr. Cumberford, an Aëro Club member. But Mr. Burthon insisted on the rights of the Club, as an organization, and the manager agreed to cancel Cumberford’s engagement.
From there Mr. Burthon went to the managers of the Motordrome, the baseball parks and Luna, engaging every open date for two weeks to come. Then having practically tied up every available place where the Kane Aircraft might be publicly exhibited, he sighed contentedly and went to his South Pasadena workshop to hasten the completion of his own aëroplane.
Mr. Cumberford was annoyed when he received notice that he could not have Dominguez Field for any day previous to the aviation meet. He was further annoyed by the discovery that Burthon had engaged every public amusement park in the vicinity of Los Angeles. But he was not the man to despair in such an emergency; the contest between him and his hated brother-in-law merely sharpened his wits and rendered him more alert.