The Flying Reporter

Made in United States of America

FOREWORD

It will probably come as a surprise to many readers to know that when this story was written, more than one hundred American newspapers owned and operated airplanes as a regular part of their news-gathering equipment. By the time this tale is between covers, there will doubtless be many additional planes cleaving the skies in the swift search for news, in the carrying of relief to marooned and endangered human beings, in the hunt for those who are lost, in the transportation of news photographs, and not infrequently in the carrying of important papers and documents. For although the primary end of the newspaper is to collect and distribute news, it also carries on a host of activities for the direct benefit of mankind.

Some of these news planes are elaborately equipped for their work, with desks and typewriters for reporters, darkrooms and developing equipment for photographers, and special equipment for the taking of aerial photographs. Some of these planes ordinarily carry as many as four men—a pilot, a mechanic, a camera man, and a reporter. Thus they are equipped for almost any emergency.

Among the eight airplanes used by the Hearst newspaper forces to “cover” the arrival of the Graf Zeppelin on the Pacific Coast were some huge tri-motored ships. One of these was equipped like a real news room. It carried one reporter, one photographer, one announcer, one radio operator and technician. The plane flew two hundred miles along the coast, and sent descriptive stories direct by radio to the Examiner office in Los Angeles, where a short-wave station copied the despatches and rushed them to the editors at their desks.

It would be easy enough to “invent” adventures for news fliers, but it would be foolish to do so for the reason that few “made-up” stories could equal in interest the actual experiences of flying reporters. Consequently, practically all the material in this book is based upon actual occurrences.

The bit of Warren Long’s parachute that Jimmy Donnelly prized so highly is merely the counterpart of a piece of the parachute of that fine young pilot, the late Thomas Nelson. It is from the parachute he had when he stepped out of a burning mail plane at Ringtown, Pa., in the fall of 1929. This keepsake was given to me by Dr. Leigh Breisch, of Lewisburg, Pa., with whose father Pilot Nelson spent several hours after that thrilling leap. His parachute was partly burned, and the bit of silk in my possession is scorched by fire. It is a prized possession, for I knew and greatly admired the dauntless young man who wore it.