Viewing page 14 of 14

August, 1929      29
Picked Up in the Hangars
[[images]]
A Dangerous Life, This
 Captain Albert W. Stevens, the army's crack aerial photographer, has climbed in his plane as high as 38,000 feet without mishap.
 Recently, while descending stairs at Wright Field, the engineering base near here, he lost his footing, fell to a concrete floor and broke his right arm.
 He was carrying a large aerial camera down the stairs and his attempt to save the camera when he started to fall caused him to be injured.

Except, Maybe, "First in War"
 B. D. Spofford of Waco Aircraft Company sent us the following telegram the other day:
 "Freddie Lund, Waco Chief Test Pilot, married today at Memphis to Betty Elkins of Los Angeles Stop Saturday Freddie tied for first place in stunting contest with Waco two twenty taper wing against navy pilot flying Wasp Hawk Stop Freddie never will be first anymore He is tied for life."

Meadow Lost on Rockwell Field
 Lieut. E. L. Meadow, of the 95th Pursuit Squadron, has the distinction of losing himself on Rockwell Field, according to a recent Air Corps news letter. Immediately after landing he was shut off from the world by a thick blanket of fog. He endeavored to taxi up to the
[[image]]
line by watching his compass, but failed to allow for declination, and landed up on the edge of Whaler's Bight, at the southwest corner of the field. After climbing out of his ship and performing a distance reconnaissance mission on foot, he again attempted to taxi to the hangar line. This time he succeeded in reaching a Navy outpost on the Northwest shoreline. The fog was low, extending upward about 15 feet from the
[[image]]
ground, so Lieutenant Meadow stood on top of the upper wing to get his bearings. He was not quite high enough to look over the fog, so he finally settled down to wait for it to lift. In the meantime, the other pilots of the 95th Pursuit Squadron stood in line, listening to the sound of the D-12 as Meadow was cruising about. He was finally rescued by several mechanics after the fog thinned.

These Dangerous Flying Machines
 Richard H. Depew, Jr., sales engineer of the Fairchild Aviation Corporation, returning to the company's plant at Farmingdale, Long Island, on his return from a flying visit to the company's regional office at Dallas, Texas, reports as follows:
 "I left Farmingdale, Long Island, at ten minutes to eleven in the morning, in a Fairchild '71,' in a rain storm. In spite of bad weather all the way, I reached St. Louis, 950 miles away, before dark, having made one stop at Columbus for gasoline. The next day I flew from St. Louis to Dallas, making one stop at Tulsa for gasoline. The trip was wholly uneventful,
 "From the flying field in Dallas I took a taxicab to the Fairchild office. We had proceeded only a short distance when another automobile crashed into ours, bending our axle, smashing our mudguards and breaking the spokes in our wheels. Fortunately, the only in-
(Continued on page 66)
Please note that the language and terminology used in this collection reflects the context and culture of the time of its creation, and may include culturally sensitive information. As an historical document, its contents may be at odds with contemporary views and terminology. The information within this collection does not reflect the views of the Smithsonian Institution, but is available in its original form to facilitate research. For questions or comments regarding sensitive content, access, and use related to this collection, please contact transcribe@si.edu.