KITTY HAWK, North Carolina — Almost one hundred years after the
Wright brothers’ first flight there is drama down here at the
Memorial where the Ohio bicycle entrepreneurs made history.
For five days in the middle of December the Wright Brothers
National Memorial will be celebrating the brothers’ historic
flight. The ceremonies begin on Saturday the thirteenth and Sunday
the fourteenth. By the fifteenth some of the most famous names in
aviation will be arriving, among them Chuck Yeager, the fabled test
pilot who along with other achievements was the first to fly faster
than the speed of sound, and Neil Armstrong, commander of Apollo
11, who on July 20, 1969, became the first human to walk on the
moon. Then on December 17, this windswept field will be crowded
with dignitaries and ordinary Americans to commemorate the
centennial of the “twelve seconds that changed the world.” But
there is another drama taking place right now.
Before I mention today’s drama, consider Orville and Wilbur
Wright’s exploits. Back in Dayton they were successful businessmen.
Wilbur, the older brother, was bookish and intense. Orville was
more outgoing and glad-handing. Both disturbed the town’s settled
folk with talk of putting one of their contraptions into the air
and actually flying from one point to another. There were many in
nineteenth-century Dayton who thought such talk was weird, some
thought it blasphemous. Yet the brothers kept tinkering in their
shop and disappearing to North Carolina’s Outer Banks where they
would take advantage of the ceaseless winds to develop wings,
propellers, and an engine. The last two contrivances would complete
their invention of what we today call the airplane. The brothers’
propeller and engine were uniquely their own creations,
manifestations of scientific and engineering skills that set them
apart.
By 1903, and after many depressing setbacks, they thought they
had a crack at making the first manned heavier-than-air flight.
Dressed in coats and ties on a chilly week in December they brought
their heavier-than-air contraption to this field. They attached
their 12 horsepower, 180-pound engine to a 40-foot, 605-pound
Flyer that looked like what we today might call a biplane.
Winning a coin toss over brother Orville, Wilbur on December 14
made the first attempt to ride the Flyer into the sky. As
it left its launching rail Wilbur miscalculated his steering device
and after a brief ascent hit the sand.
After repairs the brothers were ready again on December 17. This
time it was Orville’s turn. At 10:35 in the morning he accelerated
the Flyer along the rail, with his brother running
alongside steadying the wings. This time the bird took off and
man’s first flight lasted 12 seconds and covered 120 feet. Taking
turns Wilbur and Orville made three more flights that day, ending
with Wilbur’s record-setting 59 seconds aloft, covering 852 feet.
It all sounds quite easy, but everything they did that day and in
all the days leading up to the historic flight was arduous and
chancy. After their last flight a gust of wind caught the parked
machine, tipped it over, and smashed it beyond repair. The brothers
returned to Dayton.
Throughout the next two years they refined their airplane, and
by 1905 they could fly in circles for nearly forty minutes. When
they offered their contraption to the United States Army they were
snubbed. Washington doubted their claims. For the next three years
they gave up flying, as government aviators in Washington and Paris
tried to duplicate their achievement. All failed badly (by 1906
none had remained above ground for more than a few seconds) and
doubts about the Wright brothers’ claims spread. Not until 1908 did
they sign agreements with our government and the French to assist
those governments’ faltering flying programs. Then, joining with
the Army and the French, the Wrights proved their superiority. Soon
Wilbur in a more advanced plane could remain aloft for 2 hours,
reaching an altitude of 360 feet. No one in the Army or in France
had matched them. Now they had proved their genius.
Here in Kitty Hawk their genius has been proved again. On
November 20 modern Americans tried to fly a replica of the Wright
brothers’ plane in preparation for the centennial on December 17.
It flew 119 feet, one foot short of the brothers’ first flight, and
crashed badly. No one was hurt, but the plane is a mess. Now with
great drama a crew of twenty-first century technicians is trying to
get the plane back together for the take-off at 10:35 one hundred
years after the first flight. They hope they can repair their
modern-day airplane so it can be flown on the day of the great
celebration. Maybe they can, but they have another problem. What if
our modern engineers and aviators fail to fly it as far as Orville
flew his? Yeager broke the sound barrier. Armstrong walked on the
moon. But here at Kitty Hawk it is too early to say that we moderns
can match those bicycle entrepreneurs from Dayton, Ohio.
