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August 26, 1911.  AERO  455

[[black and white photograph showing what must be a pilot - seated man, surrounded by struts and wires, both hands on a leather-bound steering wheel. He wears a cloth cap high on his forehead and a suit & white collar.]]
[[caption]] LINCOLN BEACHEY, ALTITUDE RECORD MAN OF THE WORLD [[/caption]]

Poor Badger was not killed instantly, but he died soon after they took him away in a motor ambulance with all possible speed to the Hospital. 

Capt. Thomas S. Baldwin, smitten with grief, went to Pittsburg, the young, cheerful fellow's home, with the body next day.

St. Croix had been two hours in the air when his plane suddenly dove from the 3,500-foot level down to the lake.  It was obvious in the distance that he had lost control;  but the motor did not explode, nor did the wings collapse as the blood-thirsty Chicago newspaper writers reported with awful detail.

The brilliant aviator was drawn down by the machine to some depth under the water;  for when Hugh Robinson, in the Curtiss hydroaeroplane, who was in the air at the time, reached the spot where the machine went under water, there were only ripples and pieces of wood to be seen, although the machine went under only a half minute before.

Either stunned by the fall, or caught in the wires, St. Croix could not extricate himself.  Efforts were made to resuscitate him when finally the machine was dragged to the surface, but in vain.

Some believe that the gyroscopic force of the rotary motor caused the dive, as they believe the fatal accidents to Moisant and Chavez were caused.  No doubt it was either this, exhaustion or temporary weakness.

Little interest was taken in the events this day, except by the spectators who watched the airmen with a thrill every minute, much to the disgust of many followers of the sport, who were sore and weary of reading the efforts of the daily press of Chicago to make an accident the feature in every edition.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 16.

Wednesday was a Curtiss day.  It must have been a source of satisfaction to the Curtiss aviators as well as to G. H. Curtiss himself to see Beachey and Ward set out in the teeth of the gale immediately after four Wright machines, one of them driven by none other than Welsh of the Wright team, the other three by Brindley, Rogers and Beatty, had been beaten to earth by the fall of air from the tops of the sky scrapers on Michigan avenue, and later to see the skillful Parmelee fail to climb after Beachey and Ward had shown how easy it was.

As a matter of fact, the skill of the Curtiss men, acquired in many exhibitions on half-mile tracks and in all kinds of air currents, stood them in good stead and they boldly started with the wind, which was blowing off shore, and were soon out of reach of the disastrous down currents.  Beachey climbed promptly and was soon in deep air, while Ward circled about over Lake Michigan at heights varying from 500 to 1,000 feet, far enough away from the course to be out of reach of the down trend.

Yet it was a thrilling sight to see Beachey climb into his seat after the big Wrights had come to earth like wounded birds, and it thrilled the crowds in a way that they will not soon forget.

[[image - photograph of biplanes in flight]]
[[caption]] LEFT TO RIGHT—BROOKINS, GILL, ROBINSON IN THE CURTISS HYDRO [[/caption]]

Beachey went on and up, flying well over the city, often disappearing completely.  It was 6:52 p. m. when he landed with a dead motor, gasoline exhausted, barograph reading 7,917 feet.  It was almost totally dark and only the red fire burning on the field enabled him and Ward, who came down at 6:55 p. m., to find the hangars.

In the meantime the wind had risen again and was blowing a fine rain at about 18 miles an hour.  There was lightning in the sky and a threatening cloud.

"What's the matter with you?" scolded Curtiss, as Ward alighted.  "Don't you know enough to come in out of the storm?"

Ward wiped the rain off his face and made excuses.

At 3:45 p. m., while Beachey ad Ward were flying, the contest committee called off the speed races for monoplanes on account of the wind, fearing the consequences of making the turns around the pylons.

[[image - portrait photograph of man]]
[[caption]] CAL. P. RODGERS, WHO WON THE ENDURANCE PRIZE [[/caption]]

At 4:30 p. m. Parmelee flew the length of the field in a 32-foot Wright, buffeted by the wind, and averting a bad landing