Engine trouble forced Jimmie Curran in a S. V. A. to quit after the
second lap, after he had been outdistanced badly by the other
contestants.
The S. V A. Ansaldo motored plane owned by C. B. Wrightsman
of Tulsa, Okl., was withdrawn from the event when its pilot, E. F.
Wright, announced serious engine , trouble had developed after his flight
to Omaha from Kansas City.
Acosta Drives to Victory.
Acosta drove a masterful race in the little gray biplane, his lap record
showing a variation in running time of less than 15 seconds. From his hop-off
the Italian had the air speed, under perfect control. When Starter
H. F. Wehrley gave him the red and white flags he taxied but a short
distance before he went into the air. He circled but once and crossed the
starting line for his 150-mile dash a little less than a minute after he had
received the starter's signal.
Flying less than 500 feet up he came past the starting pylon on the '
first lap in 10 minutes, 32 seconds. He took the turns easily and
without extreme banking of his plane. His motor hummed along perfectly,
but it was noticed one of the wings appeared slightly unsteady. Later
it developed a wire had snapped as he made his first turn at Calhoun.
From the first lap on, it was apparent Acosta had hit his stride, for
he reeled off the succeeding laps in clock-like style, the timers showing
the second in 10:24; third, 10:24; fourth, 10:26 and the fifth in 10:23.
"Cactus "Kitten" Wild.
After the first lap the race lay between the Italian and Coombs in the
"Cactus Kitten," but Coombs was flying wild and wide. He was burning
time and gasoline on wide turns about the pylons and held to the
outer edge of the, course throughout the flight. After the race the Texas
pilot offered the information that he believed the craft was performing
better and faster than if he had tried to pull it down to closer turns.
"The boat was wild and I let it have its head," was Coomb's
comment.
But, if Coombs thought the boat was wild during the race, the thrill
the ship gave the crowd when Coombs essayed a landing at the
finish was wilder. Just as the pilot took his dive for ground his elevator
mechanism stuck and the "Cactus Kitten" became an animated rubber
ball.
For 100 yard the ship galloped across the landing field in excellent
imitation of some of the bucking bronchos from its native state.
"Kitten" a Real Flyer.
Coombs, despite his wild piloting, brought his triplane home less than
two minutes behind the winner. That the craft had as much speed as the
Curtiss Navy plane was apparent when Coombs dashed up the
straightaway parts of the course. S. E. J. Cox, owner of the "Kitten,"
was so elated he tendered a dinner to all of the other contestants at
the Hotel Fontenelle last night.
"We'll win next time," he declared.
Captain Macready in the Thomas-Morse biplane plainly did not have
speed to match the winner. The famous flyer drove perfectly and did
not overlook a chance to lop a second from his time by close and well
made turns. Not once did he appear unsteady and seemed to be getting
all that the ship could give in speed. His best time for the 30-mile lap
distance was 11 minutes, 27 seconds.
Flies Close to Ground.
Bertaud in the Curtiss-motored Balilla did the most spectacular
driving of the race. Combined with the weird whistling made by his side
radiators, the pilot's swoops for the ground as he came into the turns
lent a color of daredeviltry to the contest that no other entry gave it.
From within 25 feet of the ground, Bertaud would swing, into an almost
vertical bank and soar aloft as he rounded the pylon.
But the ship did not have the space-eating qualities of the three
others and Bertaud finished nearly 10 minutes behind the winner.
When Jimmie Curran started in the S. V. A. Diggins entry it was
apparent his motor was "sick." The plane did not seem to have the force
to cut the air as it circled for the starting point. After two laps it was
out, having taken an average of 17 minutes to the lap. Curran said the
motor had burned out rocker arm parts on the trip from Kansas City
and that if the owner had not felt it his duty to enter the race because
of the lack of contestants, the start never would have been made.
Hartney Starts Late.
Lieutenant Colonel Hartney in his ill-fated Thomas-Morse monoplane,
was unable to start with the others, even though the contest had
been held up until after 2:30 p. m. by the bad condition of the field.
A siphon attachment in the gasoline feed to Hartney's motor went wrong
at the last minute and his mechanicians were forced to make repairs.
Officials decided to give Hartney till 4:30 o'clock to make his
start. The pilot took his ship out just before the time limit, but it
was working badly.
Hartney got away at 4:38, and failed to make the round. At 5
o'clock word was received that he had crashed near Loveland. Even
when he crossed the starting line the engine was not getting the proper
amount of fuel and officials of the meet were sorry that the intrepid
easterner had made the attempt.
Fair Wind Blowing.
When the start of the first five ships was made soon after 2:30 a
southwest wind was blowing which seemed to have a surface speed of
about 15 miles an hour. It was evident that it was not as strong in the
upper air channels, as the pilots had little trouble in clearing the pylons
without sliding. The wind velocity seemed to increase as the race
progressed. The fogginess of early morning had disappeared and the air
was clear as the race started.
Acosta, the winner, was sent away first about 2:40, then at intervals of
two or three minutes the others went away in the following order: Bertaud
in his Balilla, Macready in the Thomas-Morse, Coombs in the
"Cactus Kitten," and Curran in the S. V. A. Every pilot circled but once
and made his dash for the starting point well under the time limit of
three minutes from his moment of hop-off.
Stunt Flyers Entertain Crowd.
The crowd estimated at from 7,000 to 10,000 persons, which witnessed the
Pulitzer classic, was entertained at odd moments throughout the afternoon
by stunt flyers, who furnished an aerial circus such as is seen seldom
when billed as such. Parachute drops, loops, tail spins, nose dives
and myriad other tricks known to the air jockeys were performed almost
continuously. '
One of the outstanding stunt performers of the day was N. D. Trinier,
pilot of a biplane for the Longren Aircraft Corporation of Topeka.
Kan. Trinier brought gasps and groans from the throng as he turned
topsy-turvy and tumbled through the air for hundreds of feet, seemingly
having lost control of his plane. Then, when he righted the ship,
rounds of applause greeted him.
Considering the difficulties attendant on a meet for which the detail
had been worked out in so short a time, officials, spectators and
contestants expressed general satisfaction with the outcome of the first
day.
Result of 150-Mile
Pulitzer Air Derby
Winning Pilot -- Bert Acosta.
Winning Plane -- Curtiss Navy 400 H. P.
Winner's Time -- 52:09.2.
Winner's Speed -- 176.7 miles an hour.
Winner's Prize -- $3,000 and Pulitzer trophy until next race.
Second -- C. B. Coombs in "Cactus Kitten."
Time -- 54:07.6. Prize, $2,000.
Third -- J. A. Macready in Thomas-Morse.
Time -- 57:20.6. Prize, $1,000.
Other Starters -- Lloyd Bertaud in Balila; Jimmy Curt in S. V. A.;
H. E. Hartney in Thomas--Morse.
First Thought of
Injured Pilot Is
Of Wife at Field
Captain Hartney "Cracks"
Near Honey Creek, Ia., on
First LapTof Race --
In. jury Undetermined.
"Telephone my wife and tell her I've only sprained my ankle."
Those were Captain H. E. Hartney's first words as two rescuers
reached him following his crash two miles north of Honey Creek, Ia.,
yesterday afternoon.
A faulty gas pump was responsible for the crash of Captain Hartney's
Thomas-Morse monoplane, which he was flying in the Pulitzer trophy
race.
Captain Hartney had just started his first lap when the gas pump
failed him. He attempted to adjust his feed line to an auxiliary tank, but
while doing so he lost so much speed his ship fell into a tailspin.
Got Out of Tailspin.
Although at an altitude of only 500 feet he managed to extricate his
ship from the spin. It was to no avail, however, as the plane almost
immediately became unmanageable and crashed to the earth.
Captain Hartney is unable to explain his fall after bringing the
machine out of the tailspin. What happened he does not know. He only
knows the airplane's landing wheels came into contact with the earth
first and the machine hurtled through the plowed field, in which he fell at
a 100-mile an hour clip, before it nosed over.
The ship turned turtle with such violence that the flyer was thrown
50 feet from , his craft.
Plane Is Destroyed.
The ship caught fire and burned for more than an hour. It was
completely destroyed.
Jim Gilmore, on whose farm near Honey Creek the aviator fell, and
Ed Campbell were working in the field only a few yards from where
Hartney plunged to earth: They ran to his assistance and carried him
into Gilmore's house, where he rested on a cot until an ambulance from the
flying field could arrive to transport him to Fenger hospital.
Dr. N. P. Atwood, stationed at Honey Creek, rushed to the scene
and reported that Captain Hartney had suffered a dislocated hip. He
also feared the captain may have suffered internal injuries.
Cried About Plane.
The aviator did not lose consciousness until opiates were
administered. On his cot in the Gilmore home he cried when he learned
his specially constructed racing monoplane was in flames and could
not be saved.
"It was the gas pump," he told a reporter for The Bee. "The motor
started to 'poop.' Then I went into the tailspin at an altitude of 500
feet. I pulled out of that all right and the rest of the fall I cannot
describe. I only know the machine came down on its landing wheels and
crashed through the plowed field and turned over.
Yesterday's crash was Captain Hartney's second in Omaha. A year
ago last summer the army flyer was piloting one of the J. L. Larsen
monoplanes when the New Yorker was making a cross-country flight.
As Captain Hartney took off for Cheyenne at Ak-Sar-Ben field his
monoplane failed to develop sufficient lifting power and he crashed
into a small building near the Ashmusen hangar.
Was Famous War Pilot.
In this accident, Captain Hartney, however, was uninjured and
continued the trip west. The monoplane was badly damaged and was
expressed back to New York.
Hartney is a captain in the army but it was not as a representative of
the army that he flew yesterday. During the war he was a lieutenant
colonel in France and for a time commanded Eddie Rickenbacker's
famous "Hat in the Ring" squadron.
Hartney took a long chance in starting in the Pulitzer race yesterday
and his luck failed him. When race time came the Thomas-Morse
monoplane developed motor trouble. Mechanics worked feverishly to whip
the balky engine into shape. Then when it was learned two Curtiss
ships had defeated the other Thomas-Morse entry, the plane piloted by
Lieut. J. A. Macready, they redoubled their efforts.
Was Last To Start.
Finally the motor started. Mechanics tested it hastily and then
rolled it onto the field. It was 4:30 and under the conditions of the
trophy race planes in winning positions must complete the distance
before dark. In another hour it would be dark and Captain Hartney had
150 miles to go.
So the intrepid flyer took off with all possible haste. But the 300 horse
power motor failed to respond to his enthusiasm and a few moments later
he crashed to earth.
Captain Hartney's wife was among the spectators at the field. She flew
from Kansas City to Omaha yesterday morning in one of the Larsen
monoplanes.
What's Doing Today
In Aerial Congress
9 A. M. -- National meeting at Hotel Fontenelle.
11:30 A. M. -- Aerial parade over city.
1 P. M. -- Airplane races start at Omaha field, lasting until 5 p. m.
Two speed events are on the program, together with stunt flying
and parachute jumping.
7 P. M. Banquet at Hotel Fontenelle.
Jumper Pleads
To Be Saved as He
Battles Current
Thousands See Parachute Man
Leap From Plane But Few
See Struggles to Escape Death.
Scores of spectators saw Harry A. Eibe, the parachute jumper, go to a
violent death in the treacherous waters of the Missouri river north
and east of the flying field yesterday. Some criticism of the management,
which failed to maintain emergency launches in the river, was heard after
the accident, but those who stood on the bank as the jumper struggled
against the current declared, human aid was out of the question.
Eibe suffered the terrible experience of watching death come upon
him. As his parachute sailed over the flying' field, borne by the wind
from the south and west, he knew that in a few seconds he would fall
in the river.
Spectators heard his cries.
"Help me, I can't swim," he shouted.
Unable to Aid Him.
Those who heard rushed to the river bank. They arrived there only
to stand in silence as the jumper was enveloped by the water.
He fell in the very middle of the current, where it was impossible
to reach him. Although unable to swim, the swift current of the river
seemed to keep him afloat for a time and he was carried 100 yards
downstream before he finally went under the third time.
As he was carried down the river he continued his cries for help.
"For God's sake, help me!" he shouted desperately. "I can't swim."
Current Very Strong.
But even an expert swimmer would have been fortunate to have
survived, the current against which Eibe was struggling. It was
impossible for a man who could not swim and who in addition was burdened
with a six-pound pack on his back.
One spectator attempted to go to Eibe's rescue with an old rowboat
he found on the bank. He had to bail it out first and then found the
craft was without oars. He tried to push off by using a stick to guide
the boat, but his efforts were utterly useless.
Arthur Thomas, chairman of the publicity committee for the Air
congress was one of the spectators near the scene of the tragedy. He started
to race downstream to carry word of the accident to spectators quarter
of a mile down stream, where he saw another rowboat.
Two men heeding his cries launched the boat but they could
make absolutely no headway against the current of the river.
Was Professional Jumper.
"Caught in the current of the river as he was, it would have been
impossible to have saved him unless a launch could have happened to be
within a few feet of him when he fell into the river," said one
spectator.
Eibe was 26 years old. He was a professional parachute jumper
employed by the Floyd Smith Aerial Equipment company of Chicago.
He lived at 912 Chicago avenue in the Windy City.
He was not entered in the parachute jumping contest yesterday. It
was his purpose to try out a new chute made by his firm.
He went into the air in a machine piloted by Clyde Horchem of Ransam,
Kan. At a point 2,000 feet in the air the pilot signaled for Eibe to
jump. Had Eibe taken his pilot's advice he probably would be alive
today.
But he signaled Horchem to turn further north. Then Eibe jumped.
Body Not Recovered.
It was a neatly executed jump. After falling few feet the parachute
opened and he began to sail gracefully toward the earth. The crowd
watched unmindful of the impending tragedy. Not until he was a few feet
from the river did it strike most of the crowd that he was in danger of
falling in the river. In fact, most of those on the west side of the field
were unaware that the man, who only a few seconds before they had
seen sailing through the air, had come to a violent death as the river
itself is not in the field of vision, except from the north side of the field.
Only three months ago, it is reported, Kibe's partner was drowned
during a parachute test at Baltimore.
Eibe's body has not been recovered.
