Over-Sea Notes

Step back to a time when aviation was in its infancy, when daring pilots took to the skies in rudimentary machines, and every flight was a leap into the unknown. The early 20th century was an era of unparalleled courage and groundbreaking innovation in the world of flight. In this article, “Over-Sea Notes” by Philip Wilcox from The Aeroplane magazine, we’re transported to 1911—a period when aviation enthusiasts on both sides of the Atlantic were captivated by the feats of legendary figures like Glenn Curtiss, André Houpert, and Harriet Quimby, each pushing the boundaries of what was possible in the skies.

Join me as I explore firsthand accounts of the pioneering efforts in American aviation, from daring experiments with hydroplanes in California to the establishment of aviation schools on Long Island, and the trials faced by early aviators in Italy. These stories reveal a time of intense passion, a global fascination with flight, and the relentless pursuit of innovation that laid the foundation for the modern aviation industry. Whether you’re a history enthusiast, an aviation aficionado, or simply curious about the early days of flight, this article offers a rare glimpse into the heart of aviation history.

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Over-Sea Notes, by Philip Wilcox, published in The Aeroplane magazine, June 21, 1911.

Mr. Philip Wakeman Wilcox writes from Long Island: “Some of the doings in this country are marvelous to read about, but I am afraid that you see more about them in England than we do over here, because here the papers are very much on the look-out for fake stories, and as a result, it is hard to get anything in the papers which is not pretty true.”

“There is mighty little being done over here which is at all startling. Perhaps the most energetic man in the experimental line is Mr. Glenn Curtiss, who has been doing the hydroplane stunts in California. There has been some good flying going on in different sections of the country, but I do not think that there has been anything that could compare with the stunts done in your part of the world. I think the man who is going to do more for aviation in this country than anybody else is Mr. Moisant, who is the brother of John B. Moisant, the man who was killed last year trying for the Michelin trophy.”

“He is the president of the Hempstead Plains Aviation Company., which has leased a tract of land of about 1,000 acres out here in Long Island, and is going to have the best proposition in the country when things get going. A contract has been given for five concrete steel hangars to start the ball a-rolling, and he hopes to have a number more before the summer is over. He also plans to erect a large grand stand, factory, and club house on the grounds. This same company conducts the Moisant School of Aviation, which is now running. There are now five students regularly practicing, and they are all in the air. The Bleriot type machine is being used. All of the machines are built in the factory in New York City.”

“I am sending you a picture of Sopwith’s machine after the wreck. The man standing up is Mr. Andre Houpert, the school pilot. The others are mechanics, but you can get an idea of the condition of the machine after the wreck.”

“Miss Quimby, who is the dramatic editor of Leslie’s Weekly, has been quietly taking lessons since the last of April, and in that time has really accomplished a few excellent flights. Until May 11th, when she made the best of her trips, her identity had been a secret, for she dressed in a tight-fitting aviator’s suit, and wore a deep hood. She and her instructor, Andre Houpert, have done all their work shortly after sunrise in the morning.”

“For the past two years the Aeronautical Society has been the real centre of all activity in a real way among Eastern aeronautical followers. The field at Mineola was in truth the first field in the United States, and on it have been conducted some of the most important experiments to date. That its office as a public point for flying has been terminated will be a surprise to more than one. Notification was given the Society on May 28th that it must vacate within the next thirty days.”

 “While the action is not unexpected, the dispossession of the thirty odd aviators with their machines causes considerable anxiety. Large flat fields like Hempstead Plains are very rare in the vicinity of New York. Early this year the fields near Mineola, as well as the large field in the neighborhood of Westbury, were leased for a term of five years to the Hempstead Aviation Company, which has arranged to give the Moisant School exclusive use of the property. Moisant, as well as officers of the real estate company, holds large interests in the organization which now has the field.”

The Latest from Sopwith.

Writing from Columbus, Ohio, on June 2nd, Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith says: “How do you think the outfit looks at the Columbus, Ohio, meeting? Everything going strong, but impossible to get good petrol here, so not much power. Have to stir it up with a stick before you put it in the tank.”

Writing last week, Sopwith says:

“The ‘Family Tank’—the dear old ‘Family Tank’—is more or less a thing of the past. We were at the Columbus meeting and flew every day, and on the last night we had a repetition of Dover. There were two other machines with us in a tent, and the whole thing collapsed. In the morning there was hardly a piece of the machine left whole. Luckily the engine had been taken out, but the planes, elevator, and tail were badly smashed. I think we will be able to rebuild in about a fortnight, and we are starting in at once. It is bad luck, but as this is our third smash altogether, we must hope for better luck for the future.”

Italian Notes.

Ciro Cirri, whose death occurred on May 28th at Voghera, as the result of terrible burns caused by a forced descent and subsequent conflagration of his Bleriot-cum-Gnome, was one of the unlucky Picollo-Cei trio, all of whose deaths have been unusual. Cei’s decease is still being investigated here, the body having been recently exhumed (sabotage). Cirri was a Roman.

Roman also was Raymond Marra, who was killed at the Roman meeting on 8th instruction by a treacherous wind, aided by local eddies, which beat him down on to one of the big supports carrying the electric power current across country. He is said to have been electrocuted, as the machine—a Farman—was set on fire, and his body, though found well away from the machine, was burnt.

Whatever the cause of the recent numerous conflagrations, would not the enclosing of petrol tanks in leather or some resisting composition be advisable? Anything which would prevent the immediate exit of petrol should the tank spring a leak would be useful. Sparks are struck by the motor, etc., at the actual moment of contact with the ground, not afterwards. Cirri ’s tank was, they tell me, pierced by a wire stake, which the leather might have prevented. [What about solidified petrol? Ed.]

The writer, while recently at Rome, took advantage of a lull in the misfortunes which dogged the efforts of those managing the flying week to go out to the Parioli racecourse, where the meeting was being held, and where the Paris-Rome competitors had landed and were expected to be “showing off.” At two o’clock in the afternoon, and in the Roman sun no one was present except the aviators and the Press, the latter at loggerheads with the committee over the suspension of their hangar passes. A strike was neatly concocted, and in twenty-four hours the authorities capitulated. Notwithstanding, some excellent flying was done towards the evening, Garros being apparently the great favorite, while Vidart (Deperdussin) thoroughly explored the Roman garrets and church steeples.

Cagno’, Ruggerone, and Marra—who was killed’ later on in the week—were causing the Italians to sing Sursum Corda by their attempts to win the Circuit of the Tibur, a 300-kilometer cross-country flight formed by six trips round a 50-kilometer circuit. 

I noted the prevision of protection for the pilot on most of the Farman type biplanes, and also the presence of an Italian biplane of this type, the Asteria, with Cavaglia in charge.

On one of the trips for the Circuit Cagno was the victim of a curious accident. One of the cylinders of his Gnome came adrift and broke a skid, so that he was unable to prevent some damage to the machine in the forced landing which resulted!

The Farman monoplane which Goddard attempted to fly was evidently out for a car race only, and, although very fast, did not prove to be a flier, at any rate as far as the air was concerned. This was a great disappointment. Its appearance when on the ground is comic in the extreme, and it will certainly get a nickname. The “fussy fowl” or “hen with chicks” would both suit.

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The stories of early aviation remind us of a time when humanity was just beginning to grasp the possibilities of flight—a time when courage and curiosity fueled dreams of soaring through the clouds. In reading these accounts, we see how much has changed and yet how the spirit of innovation continues to drive us forward. If these glimpses into the past have inspired you, stay tuned for more tales from the dawn of aviation. I’ll continue to uncover the untold stories and daring exploits that shaped the world of flight as we know it today.

Thanks again, and I’ll see you in the next one!