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November 15, 1940 19

ready for repair and rebuilding.

Mr. Bennett suggested that a suit of overalls would be the proper uniform and the next day I appeared prepared for real work. The garage was my dressing room, and when I emerged in that suit of overalls, the shortest I could buy, with the legs turned up almost to my knees and the sleeves above my elbows, I was a ridiculous looking, but enthusiastic embryo mechanic. 

It is difficult to make those who have never been close to one of the old airplanes understand how crude they were. The wings of our plane were single surfaced, and that one covering was of cheap, unbleached muslin. This was stretched over the tops of the wing sections and fastened to the leading edge with small steel tacks and strips of split bamboo. The trailing edge was laced with piano wire that was fastened at intervals to the ends of the wing ribs. The muslin was stretched tightly by hand, tacked to each rib, and over these rows of tacks split bamboo was tacked and glued to make the covering more secure. The ribs and spars, exposed to the weather on the under side of the wings, were coated with shellac before the covering was fastened on and the entire section was later treated with a home-made "dope." This dope left a rough, bumpy surface that would be taut on dry days, but limp in a moist atmosphere.

This small plane, of the Curtiss pusher type, was equipped with the old 60 horsepower Curtiss motor of the type used by Glenn H. Curtiss on his flight down the Hudson from Albany on May 29, 1910. Every flyer on the Pacific Coast had used it and it was no longer young, but we all had considerable faith in that old 60 and to me it was the greatest power plant in the world. I was cautioned from the beginning to handle that old motor with tender care and told that I must not be surprised if it disintegrated without warning at any time. 

After days and days of work the plane was finally assembled and ready to be "tried out." We pushed it out on the hill by the side of the house and Mr. Bryant took off for a few minutes' flight. On coming in to land on the side of the hill one wing tip hit a stump and once more we had repairs to make. In a few days we were again ready and this time Johnny, once off the hillside, flew down the state highway and landed on our real field - a lima bean field covering miles of valley. 

Now, I thought, is my time to get a chance at some real experience in what was termed "grass cutting," for at that time there were no dual controls and it was every one for himself. If you could teach yourself to fly, well and good; if not, you simply stepped out of the game. 

The plane was a pusher with the motor resting on a motor bed of hickory and ash just behind the head of the pilot. The ailerons were operated by a shoulder yoke control. The rudder and elevators were controlled by a wheel attached to the steering post. The switch was on the steering wheel and the throttle was operated by the left foot. 

There was a "digger" or sprag brake under the landing gear, near the center of the plane, operated by the right foot. To slow down on making a landing in a tight place, one pushed the bar with the right foot, releasing the hook and allowing it to dig into the ground and act as a brake. This same bar also operated a switch. If one forgot and pushed that side of the bar there was no way of starting the motor until a landing was made and the propeller cranked by hand. 

The ailerons were located between the upper and lower wings and fastened to the rear, outer bay struts by a hinged fitting fitted with cotter pins. We used piano wire for everything excepting control wires and in emergencies we often used some of that well known Early Bird delight - baling wire. Turnbuckles were made from bicycle spokes, and our turnbuckle wrench, known to us as a "hickey twister," was made of a large iron gasket, heated and bent over one side with a slot filed in the turned-up side for gripping turnbuckles. I still have the first one I ever used and today it is a quaint relic of those days of makeshift tools and planes. Our 5-gallon gasoline tank, mounted underneath the upper wing, fed the carburetor by gravity. Elevators, rudder and vertical stabilizer were mounted on bamboo outriggers.

My first day with the old shoulder yoke control was my last. After repeatedly running the plane back and forth across the bean field with Mr. Bennett at one wing tip and Mr. Bryant at the other to assist me in turning, I finally decided to see if I could lift the little plane from the ground and put it down again without disaster. Right there I got my first feel of leaving the ground - up a few feet and landing - up and down. Then it was time to quit for the day. 

That, apparently, was the end of a perfect day. But the end was yet to come. Mr. Bennett decided to fly the plane home, leaving us to drive the old Renault with the tools and empty gas cans. That small plane would not lift a heavy load. Mr. Bryant and I were about the same height and weight - little more than five feet, four inches tall and not more than 140 pounds. Mr. Bennett was some six feet tall and weighed almost 200 pounds. The foot throttle and brake were adjusted for short people so when Mr. Bennett flew his knews [[knees]] came up almost to his chin. 

On this day he seemed to feel the need of a bit of excitement and succeeded beyond his expectations. Climbing out of that recently ploughed field, he attempted a turn and at about 75 feet, stalled the motor and landed in the bean field with everything on top of him. 

The following (Continued on page 35)

[[images]] 
[[caption 1]] The author flying over Harbor Island, Seattle, where the Bennett flyers made their base early in the 1913 season

[caption 2] Twin-prop tractor powered by a Hall-Scott engine built by the Bennett flyers The Palms and Seattle. Left to right, Frank, John, and Henry Bryant with plane.