Langley‑Wright Brothers Story
A famous astronomer, whose life’s ambition is to fly, and who will fall on
his sword before he fails.
A pair of laconic brothers who run a bicycle
shop, and are so close that they finish each other’s sentences.
Their father
says, “As inseparable as twins, they are indispensable to each other.”
Young Wilbur Wright is playing on the floor in his
Dayton, Ohio, home when his
father throws something. Except it doesn’t fall. It flies across the
room, hits the ceiling, and flutters around the room. It’s a helicopter.
Instantly, it becomes Wilbur’s favorite toy. Remember who built that toy?
Auguste Penard.
As Wilbur grows older, he has some bad luck. First, he gets hit by
a hockey stick, and loses most of his teeth. Then, he develops heart
problems. Disfigured and a semi‑invalid, he abandons society and, for
years, roams the hills above
Dayton watching the birds.
Sitting on a rock, he realizes the problem in flight is control. But how
do you sail through the turbulent sea, and how do you fly and not die?
Down from the hills, Wilbur, and his brother, Orville, send away
for everything they find about flying. Although they never graduate high
school, they are voracious readers. They even try to memorize the entire
encyclopedia.
When they seek help from Octave Chanute,
who’s been flying gliders on Lake Michigan, they become part of the
fraternity of fliers. Wilbur
tells Chanute that, “I make no secret of my plans for the reason that I
believe no financial profit will accrue to the inventor of the first
flying machine, and that only those who are willing to give as well as
receive suggestions can hope to link their names with the honor of its
discovery.“ Chanute tells
them to read about Otto Lilienthal.
The brothers make a pact with their sister,
Katherine, that none of them will marry, or have children.
When Katherine later breaks this pact, the Wright Brothers vow
never to speak to her again. When asked why he never had a family, Wilbur says, “One
does not have time for an airplane and a wife.”
Samuel Langley is the famous astronomer and scientist who is
secretary of the prestigious Smithsonian Institute.
He has all the resources of its full-time staff, plus a $50,000
government grant. And, he has
a pedigree. Langley taught at
Harvard, is a former Mathematics professor at the Naval Academy, and has
many medals. The most
powerful men in government and business are friends, including Andrew
Carnegie and Alexander Graham Bell.
Langley also has a successful track record.
He’s launched flying models from the tower of the Smithsonian,
and has a houseboat to launch from near Quantico, Virginia. He has an expert pilot, the lightest steam engine in the
world, and a novel design. If
one set of wings works, why not two?
His competition is the unknown Wright
Brothers, who experiment in the wilds of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, with
nothing except a shack and the parts they built at their Dayton, Ohio,
bicycle shop.
By the fall of 1903, the Wright Brothers are
out of luck. Battered by
storms, their engine doesn’t work.
The propellers jerk loose, damage the shafts, and force them to
send the parts back to Dayton for repair.
A friend who’s visiting gives up hope that they will fly this
year as winter closes in and the ponds around them freeze.
The drive chains — the same ones you see on bicycles — are
loose and their hands are so cold they can’t fix them.
And just when they think they have a good day, a 25-mile-per-hour
wind hits them from the north, and sends them huddling back around the
stove.
So Langley is
the first to fly. His airplane takes off on December 8, 1903. The Wright
Brothers are about to become a footnote to history. But someone forgets to
tighten the bolts on the railing.
To make matters worse, the Washington press
corp watches from rowboats and nearby marshes.
They dislike Langley because they perceive him to be arrogant.
The press derides Langley about his very public failure — they
call it the “mud duck.” “The
nose of the aircraft is pointing straight up, but everything aft of the
spinning propellers is falling apart.
The second set of wings has crumpled upwards like hands clasped in
prayer. It went down like a sack full of concrete,” writes one.
The New York Times
uses the occasion to make one
of its famous predictions. The world’s most famous newspaper
editorializes: “The flying machine which will really fly might be evolved
in from one to 10 million years.” Little did they know that within 10
days, man would fly.
Now it is up to the Wright Brothers.
On Dec. 17, the day after a coastal storm, it’s cold and windy on
Kill Devil Hill, and the puddles are iced over.
They invite witnesses from the nearby Coast Guard lifesaving
station, but why risk frostbite for two crack-brained inventors?
So only five show up. Wilbur
hands a lifesaver named John Daniels a camera, and tells him to snap a
picture, and the rest, as they say, is history.
But the brothers don’t brag about their feat; they want to
improve.
And what about the airplane? The Wright Brothers keep quiet so no
one hears of their success. When asked why he keeps silent, Wilbur says,
“The only bird that talks is the parrot, and it can’t fly very high.”
After 17 years dreaming of flight, Langley
gives up, and dies of a stroke in 1906.
But his friend Alexander Graham Bell blames the press.
“They broke his heart,” Bell says.
The Wright Brothers prove so successful that
they become victims of their own success.
Others imitate them, and the brothers become involved in a host of
patent disputes with people like aviator Glenn Curtiss.
They fly so
often, that eventually the inevitable happens.
In September 1908, Orville takes a young
West Point graduate,
Lieutenant Thomas Selfridge, flying at Ft. Myer, Virginia. But from the
start the chemistry is bad. Selfridge works with the Wright Brothers’s
competitor, Glenn Curtis. And the plane is weighted down.
Orville hears a tapping sound from the engine.
So he shuts it off and starts to glide.
Then there’s two sharp thumps, and the plane swerves to the
right. A piece of propeller
brakes loose and flutters to the ground.
Orville pulls hard on the rudder, but the controls won’t work. The plane falls 100 feet, nose first. It’s like a bird shot dead in flight, doing a complete
somersault. Just when it
starts to right itself, it crashes. It
hits the ground and throws up a cloud of dust.
The post commander sends the cavalry out, who find them lying under
the crushed plane. Orville, who is moaning, has broken both legs.
Selfridge is silent, a huge gash in his head. And now has the unenviable
distinction of being the first person to die in an airplane accident.
Wilbur, who’s off flying in France, blames
himself for the accident. “If
I had been there it wouldn’t have happened,” he tells everyone.
It is the beginning of the end.
In 1912, after a bitter lawsuit, he eats contaminated shellfish,
and dies of typhus. And their
father’s prediction comes true. Without
Wilbur, Orville can’t accomplish anything.
That same year, Orville wins the patent
battle, but it’s a hollow victory.
When World War I starts just two years later, the government frees
all the airplane companies from patent restrictions so they can build
better planes.
Orville retreats to his home in Dayton, and
discovers what he and Wilbur had given up in their search for “The
Winged Gospel,” the joys of hearth and home.
Orville reunites with his sister Katherine and her children and,
for the rest of his life, mainly builds toys for his nieces and nephews
until his death in 1948.