Katherine Stinson’s Forgotten Flight: A Record-Breaking Journey to Help the Grizzlies

In December 1917, as America was deep in the throes of World War I, a young woman made aviation history—but not for the reasons you might expect.

Katherine Stinson, already a well-known aviator and stunt pilot by her mid-twenties, set out from San Diego on a daring nonstop flight to San Bruno, California. Her destination: the Tanforan Racetrack, a former horse track turned Army training center just south of San Francisco. Her goal? To raise funds for the “Grizzlies”—the 144th Field Artillery Regiment, training to join the fight overseas.

Flying solo in a modified Curtiss JN-4 biplane powered by a Curtiss OX-5 V-8 engine, Katherine covered 610 miles without stopping—breaking the American nonstop flight record at the time. She didn’t land on a runway or an airbase. She touched down on the grassy infield of a dusty racetrack, surrounded by a crowd eager to cheer her on.

But Katherine didn’t just fly. She performed.

Once safely on the ground, she was greeted by Captain Tom Duck Gunn of China’s government flying forces. Before a crowd of civilians, soldiers, and dignitaries, Gunn presented her with a medal on behalf of the President of China—recognizing the goodwill tour she had flown across Asia just months earlier. In cities like Tientsin, Peking, and Hong Kong, Stinson’s daring exhibitions had ignited interest in aviation and inspired a new generation of Chinese pilots.

She wore that medal proudly, suspended from a ribbon around her neck.

That afternoon, the crowds were treated to more than just a glimpse of a record-breaker. Katherine took to the skies again, looping her aircraft, flying upside down, and demonstrating aerobatic maneuvers that mimicked the evasive tactics used in Europe’s deadly dogfights. She called one routine the “aerial tango.” This was more than showmanship—it was her way of bringing the realities of war aviation home to the American public.

Her aircraft featured a large red cross painted on the rudder—a personal statement of support for the Red Cross and its wartime efforts. Even her airplane carried a message.

When she wasn’t in the air, she was on the ground, checking the engine herself—climbing onto the wing in a long dress and inspecting the exposed valve train with practiced hands. Later, she examined two spare wing struts, bending and sighting each one for straightness before selecting the one she trusted most.

Tanforan’s racetrack was buzzing that day—not just with aircraft, but with automobile and motorcycle races, crowds in the grandstands, and ticket sales that would go toward the comfort of soldiers heading to Europe. It was more than an event—it was a patriotic rally, a hometown farewell, and a celebration of what America could achieve.

And at the center of it all stood a young woman in a leather flight helmet and goggles, smiling, quiet, and sure.

Katherine Stinson may not have had the fame of Amelia Earhart, but she paved her own path—and helped carry a nation’s hopes on the wings of her biplane.