The Man Who Almost Beat the Wright Brothers into the Sky
Samuel Pierpont Langley was the Directing Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution during the latter part of the nineteenth and the early years of the twentieth centuries. Like many other inventors of the period, he was determined to create an engine-powered heavier-than-air flying machine that could carry a man through the skies. He termed this device the Aerodrome, after the Greek for air-runner.
Beginning in 1894, Langleyâs designs were put to the test. Unlike the Wright Brothers, however, Langley was a project director, not a hands-on technician and inventor. As the director of the largest museum institution in North America, he had many responsibilities to keep him busy, but also had access to a staff of engineers, craftsmen, and technicians who could be assigned to do the actual work of building the flying machine.
Langleyâs flying experiments were tested from a large boat anchored in the Potomac River near Quantico, Virginia, just south of Washington, D.C. The first unmanned aerodromes failed to fly, but by 1896 Langleyâs team had created a machine that could be launched by catapult, and was capable of flying more or less straight and level for more than half a mile. Even so, the machine was too small and underpowered to carry a person, so the Smithsonian director turned his efforts toward the creation of an engine powerful enough to lift a heavier machine.
In this he was largely successful, though, as with the rest of âhisâ work, it was not Langley who did the actual inventing. Furthermore, his estimation of the amount of power required was just that: an educated guess. Unlike the Wright Brothers, who constructed a wind tunnel and studied the behavior of an airfoil under actual conditions of liftâthey concluded that about ten horsepower (hp) would be requiredâLangleyâs efforts were directed toward building the most powerful engine possible.
The first designer, Stephen Blazer, created a rotary engine capable of generating about eight hp. Next to work on it was Charles Manly, who improved it immensely, and built a truly superior engine. A water-cooled radial design, it was capable of generating some 52 hp.
Although his Smithsonian team had begun working with a four-year head start over the Wright Brothers, in Ohio the Wrights possessed insight and skill that the bureaucratically inclined Langley couldnât match. Based on the success of his unmanned flyer, Langley seemed to think that all he needed was a more powerful engine and a larger machine. He failed to grasp two key details that Wilbur and Orville Wright learned through their own experimentation.
The first of these was the center of balance in an aircraft wing. The director of the Smithsonian understood the principle of the airfoilâthe classic wing design that creates low air pressure over the top surface of the wing, and thus results in âliftâ from belowâbut he made a crucial mistake in the application of that principle. Langley decided, logically enough, that the center of balance of an airfoil was down the middle of the wing. Therefore, his wings were supported with guy wires located in that position.
The Wright Brothers determined, through hands-on experimenting, that the actual center of gravity in an airfoil was only about a third of the way back from the leading edge. They actually worked out the equations needed to determine the coefficient of lift, which allowed them to build an engine that was only as powerful as necessary. Furthermore, they understood where the stress would come to bear against the wings. As a result, they placed their supporting wires in that position (something that every model airplane builder understands today). Thus, the Wright Flyer was strong enough to hold together under the stresses of flight.
The second failure of Langleyâs design is harder to understand: he apparently failed to consider that a flying machine would need to be controlledâi.e., âsteeredââthrough three dimensions. While his aerodrome possessed a crude rudder potentially capable of turning it to the right or left, that rudder was located in the middle of the machine, not at the tail. In addition, it had no wing warping ability at all.
Wing warping, which in the early days literally meant bending the airplane while it was in the air, was a crucial component of the Wright Brothersâ designâand, later, a key element of their patent. Perhaps their experience in building bicycles and gliders helped them to grasp this requirement. In any event, the pilot of the Wright Flyer (who lay prone on the lower wing) used his own muscle power to twist and bend the airplane, which was a key component of keeping it in stable flight, not to mention providing at least a limited amount of steering capability.
Aided by the labor of his staff and a War Department budget of $50,000, Langleyâs Great Aerodrome was completed in October 1903âtwo months before the Wright Brothers were ready to take to the air. The machine was carried to the same houseboat in the Potomac from which the unmanned flyers had been launched. A courageous volunteer, the aptly named Charles M. Manly, took the controls on October 9. The engine roared, witnesses gathered to observe the historic event, and a catapult snapped forward, propelling the Great Aerodrome into the air.
For about a second. Then the wing twisted out of alignment as the supporting wires failed, and the machine plunged straight down, into the waters of the Potomac. Although Manly was fished out of the water, none the worse for wear, the experiment was a very public failure. Nevertheless, Langley went to work on building another machine, and Manly again volunteered to fly it. This craft was ready by December 8, 1903âwhich was already five days after the Wright Flyer took to the air at Kitty Hawk, North Carolinaâbut the date was really rather insignificant as this aerodrome, too, collapsed upon launch and plunged into the river (Manly, who perhaps should have been nicknamed âLucky,â again survived.)
Langley died in 1906, his dream unrealized. The Smithsonian carried on his legacy to the point of having Glenn Curtiss modify the aerodrome in 1914. Curtiss put the wing wires in the proper place, and the machine did in fact take to the airâthough it still could not be properly steered or controlled. Even so, this âsuccessâ caused the museumâs new directors to exhibit the aerodrome prominently, and label it âthe first machine capable of manned flight.â (Part of the reason for the exaggeration lay in an attempt, ultimately unsuccessful, to void the Wright Brothersâ patent on powered aircraft design.)
The resulting display led to a feud with Orville Wright (his brother had died in 1912) that led to the original Kitty Hawk flying machine being displayed in a museum in London, instead of the official American history and technology museum. It was not until 1942 that the Smithsonian corrected the label, explained the details of Curtissâs modifications, and allowed the Wright Brothers invention to claim its true place in the history of aviation.
The Wright Brothersâ successful design of a powered, controllable airplane was tested and improved by the two brothers over the years from 1903 to 1908 under a shroud of secrecy. They were apparently the only designers who understoodâprobably because of their roots as bicycle makersâthat the machine could be steered through turns by banking it to the right or left. They were awarded a patent for their steering mechanism, and took some pains to keep the method secret from competitors.
By 1908, however, they were demonstrating their device for army observers in both the United States and France. While the military uses of flying machines had yet to be demonstrated, forward thinking officers in both countries were gradually beginning to realize that this new invention had a great deal of potential. In the U.S., the initial investment in military aviation came from the Army, with the Navy only slowly taking interest.
However, by the end of 1908, Rear Admiral Cowles, chief of the Navyâs Bureau of Equipment, had seen enough of the new technology to recommend to the Secretary of the Navy that âa number of aeroplanesâ should be purchased by the Navy; that these machines should be capable of flying in less than ideal weather conditions, and âbe of such design as to permit convenient storage on board ship.â Eight months later the request was denied with the explanation that, âThe Department does not consider that the development of the aeroplane has progressed sufficiently at this time for use in the Navy.â
With this curt dismissal, aviation-minded naval officers were forced to watch as the U.S. Army continued with its experimental flying machines. It wasnât until 1910 that Captain W.I. Chambers, USN, was authorized to learn as much as he could about airplanes from civilian pilots and designers. Although his queries were rejected by the Wright Brothers, he found a willing assistant in one of the brothersâ chief rivals, Glenn Curtiss. Chambers arranged for an eighty-three-foot-long platform, sloping downward, to be installed on the prow of the cruiser USS Birmingham. On November 14, 1910, pilot Eugene Ely flew a 50 hp Curtiss pusher down that ramp and into the air, for the first successful launching of an aircraft from a ship.
By December of that year, the first United States Navy pilot, Lt. T.G. Ellyson, was authorized to train under Curtiss himself and learn to fly. He was âgraduatedâ after four months of study in San Diego at North Fieldâwhich would eventually become the huge San Diego Naval Air Stationâwith Curtiss reporting to the Secretary of the Navy that Ellyson could operate all Curtiss airplanes, and that he âis a man who will make a success in aviation.â By March 1911, Congress provided $25,000 to develop naval aviation, and a few months later the service ordered, from Curtiss, a âhydra-terra-aeroplaneâ that could fly from land or water and attain a speed of 45 mph. (Of course, since Curtiss lacked access to the patented banking system of the Wright machines, the plane was more difficult to control than those built by Orville and Wilbur Wright.)
Because of the limited space aboard the decks of ships, Curtiss and Ellyson quickly realized the desirability of flinging an airplane into the air with the assistance of a catapult mechanism. They devised a system that relied upon the strength of two men who pulled ropes attached to the airplaneâs wings, and tested it on a beach in September of 1911. Running the aircraft down an inclined three-wire rigging from a platform 16 feet high, they successfully put the plane into the air, where it flew out over Lake Keuka and landed on the water.
So far, so good. In theory, it should have been possible to do the same thing from a ship. It was not until the next summer, July 1912, that they were ready to tryâafter making a few improvements. The Navy invested resources in the development of a compressed-air powered catapult system, which was tested on the Santee Dock in Annapolis. The aircraft, with Ellyson at the controls, was attached to the catapult, and the trigger was released.
However, the nose of the airplane was hoisted too far upward, perhaps because of the powerful catapult. In any event, the plane shot up, not out, and was immediately caught in a crosswind that cartwheeled it unceremoniously into the water. Ellyson crawled from the wreckage, soaked and chagrined, but convinced that the problem was solvable.
And it was. By November, they rebuilt the airplane and adjusted the catapult. When Ellyson made his second attempt on November 12, 1912, the plane took to the air. This was the first successful launch of an airplane by catapult. The aviation pioneering team of Curtiss and Ellyson would go on to establish a number of flying firsts, including the development of seaplane operations (with planes landing and taking off on the water) and the use of cranes to hoist and lower amphibious aircraft onto and off of the decks of ships.
World War I was on the horizon and the U.S. Navy was ready to take to the skies.
The Brewster F2A Buffalo sucked. But that would be a mean thing to say. Letâs just say it was âdevelopmentally challenged.â
At one time in the late 1930s, the F2A took naval aviation from biplanes to the modern age in one very brief swoop.
That was its high point.
And then it was quickly eclipsed as the aviation world kept speeding onward and upward.
Made in QueensâŚ
The Brewster Company originally made cars, starting an aviation division in the early 1930s. It was a time when the aviation world was transitioning from the open cockpit biplane, with fabric-covered wings, to the low-wing all-metal monoplane sporting an enclosed cockpit and retractable landing gear.
The Navy was flying the Grumman F3F, a biplane with a squat, barrel-shaped fuselage and an enclosed cockpit. In 1935, it wanted a low-wing all-metal monoplane that could do 300 mph to replace it.
In an attempt to win the Navy contract, a company named Seversky pulled together a version of its P-35 fighter, refitted with a tailhook. Grumman derived its prototype of the F4F Wildcat from the existing F3F. Brewster designed the F2A as a mid-wing all-metal monoplane with flush rivets. Only the flaps were fabric-covered. It was a lackluster design, but wind tunnel testing and a few tweaks brought it up to speed. The Navy gave Brewster the contract in 1938. Make fifty-four airplanes.
Pronto.
Well that was going to be a challenge. The Brewster factory was in Long Island City, Queensâa grungy neighborhood of factories that still had a gritty look long after the manufacturers went away. There was no airfield. The planes had to be trucked to Roosevelt Field (now a shopping mall in Long Island) for final assembly and flight-testing.
It was not until the following June that the Navy finally started getting its F2As. Each plane took flight with an 850 horse...