Excerpt from:

                           THE BARNSTORMERS
                                  by
                             Don Dwiggins


          On August 24, 1910, at the controls of a brand new Bleriot
  monoplane, John Moisant [born in Chicago 1868] set out from Paris to
  establish a record by making the first international flight from one
  capital to another.  His destination was London.  Sweeping out over the
  English Channel, Moisant battled unexpected winds that tossed his frail
  aircraft about like an autumn leaf.  Finally, the white cliffs of Dover
  passed beneath his dragonfly wings, and as he headed inland, along the
  Thames, people ran into the streets to wave a welcome.  Moisant happily
  waved back.  Only six miles from his destination, however, his engine
  began to slow down and finally stopped.  He glided down to land in a
  small field.
          Not one to give up easily, Moisant tried again and made it on
  September 6, winning the London DAILY MAIL Trophy for being the first to
  cross "the Ditch" with a passenger, his mechanic, Albert Fileux.  He
  actually had a second passenger on that historic hop-- a striped cat that
  meowed happily for the photographers in London, glad no doubt to be back
  on the ground.
          Air meets were now attracting large crowds in the United States,
  and so in October Moisant set sail for his homeland to participate in the
  Gordon Bennett Aviation Cup Race and International Meet at Belmont Park,
  New York, the first of a series of competitions he would enter under the
  auspices of the controlling Aero Club of America.  Together with the
  Wright and Curtiss teams, Moisant's International Aviators held a corner
  on exhibition flying in those first years of barnstorming.
          When Moisant returned to the United States from France, he
  brought with him the pick of the crop of European pilots, including such
  famed Gallic birdmen as Rene Barrier, Rene Simon and the great Roland
  Garros.  Also in the Moisant troupe was an Italian pilot, Oresces
  Farrara, and two Americans who joined him in the United States, St. Croix
  Johnstone and John J. Frisbie.
          With the coming of winter weather, the Moisant International
  Aviators headed south to barnstorm new territory.  They were joined by
  another American pilot, Charles K. Hamilton, who had had a falling out
  with Glenn Curtiss.  Hamilton owned a special plane, the HAMILTONIAN,
  powered with a 110-horsepower V-8 Christie engine.  It was too hot to
  handle, and Hamilton had one bad smashup after another in it, frequently
  suffering a shower of scalding water from a broken radiator.
          At Richmond, Memphis and Chattanooga, the Moisant troupe gave
  thousands of amazed spectators their first look at an airplane, and then
  they moved deeper into the South, putting on performances at Tupelo,
  Mississippi, and at New Orleans, Louisiana.  There, as it did to many
  early birdmen, the way it also would to other subsequent barnstormers,
  sudden death came to John Moisant-- wearing his flying boots.
          John Moisant's death, however, did not eliminate the family name
  from the roster of active birdmen, or birdwomen.  The following summer,
  his sister, Matilde, enrolled in a flying school John had started in
  Garden City, New York, along with a close friend, Harriet Quimby, a young
  and pretty drama critic of LESLIE'S WEEKLY who was fascinated by
  airplanes....   [pp. 4-5] 
  
  

          In the "good old crazy days of flying," perhaps the best known
  family of barnstormers was the Stinsons-- Katherine, Marjorie, Eddie and
  John-- who hailed from Jackson, Mississippi.  Katherine was barely
  seventeen when she went up for her first plane ride at Kinloch Field, St.
  Louis, with Tony Jannus, instructor at Tom Benoist's aviation school.
  Later, the Stinsons moved to Chicago, where Katherine acquired her pilot
  license on July 24, 1912, to become the world's youngest female flyer.
          Not until the next spring, at Cicero Field, Chicago, did
  Katherine begin her career as as exhibition flier, in a brand-new Wright
  Model B pusher.  It was the start of a barnstorming tour that would take
  her to Coney Island, Arkansas, Montana, Louisiana, Texas, North Dakota,
  Michigan and Missouri.
          Her older brother, Eddie, served as Katherine's traveling
  companion and mechanic.  In repayment she taught him to fly.  Wintering
  at Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio, all four of the Stinsons became expert
  pilots and opened a flying school of their own.
          When in San Francisco, in 1915, the noted stunt pilot Lincoln
  Beachey was killed, pulling the wings off a swift little monoplane, the
  BEACHLEY SPECIAL, Katherine bought the wreckage, salvaged the rotary
  engine and had a skilled plane designer, Matty Laird, install it in a
  special exhibition tractor ship.  With it she thrilled crowds by looping
  the loop and, before Ruth Law, by flying at night with flares on her
  wingtips.
          In 1917, Katherine sailed for the Orient, barnstorming through
  Japan and China, then returned when the United States and Germany went to
  war.  Like Ruth Law, she tried to enlist as a combat pilot, but her
  services were declined.  She and Marge then settled for training pilots
  for the Royal Canadian Air Force.  With the school running smoothly, she
  helped the American Red Cross over the top in its Liberty Loan drive by a
  spectacular cross-country flight in a Jenny from Albany, New York, to
  Washington, D.C.
          On the first leg of that flight, Katherine raced and beat the
  crack Empire State Express passenger train into New York City, then
  followed the "iron beam" into Philadelphia with a railroad timetable for
  a map.  She finally made it to the national capital, landing beside the
  Washington Monument.  A cheering throng of five thousand people hailed
  her as a real heroine when she handed a check for $2,000,000, the
  proceeds from her spectacular benefit aerial performances, to Secretary
  of the Treasury William Gibbs McAdoo.
          Katherine gave up flying when she married at the age of
  twenty-five, while Eddie went on to become the "dean" of aviation, the
  first to log more than fifteen thousand hours in the air.  As a plane
  manufacturer, Eddie Stinson built the transatlantic ship flown by Ruth
  Elder and George Haldemand and designed a popular line of private
  aircraft that is still flying.
          Selling airplanes meant traveling around the country, and in that
  sense Eddie Stinson joined the ranks of postwar barnstormers whose air
  paths freqently crossed in a number of small Midwestern towns.  For a
  time he was joined by another traveling salesman, Carl Squier, who would
  later become the president of Lockheed Aircraft Company....   [pp. 12-13]

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          They were the gypsy fliers, out to spread the gospel of aviation
  to the grass roots country and to work a miracle by getting America into
  the air, first to wonder, then to enjoy flying, and finally to travel as
  a matter of course.
          Airports were few and far between, but these small two-seater
  training planes, the JN-4D Jennies and Standards, didn't exactly need
  airports.  Any quarter section would do, and you could tell by how green
  the grass was whether the field was too wet to land on, and all you
  needed for a wind sock was a cow's tail.  Every pilot knows as well as a
  farmer that cows eat facing upwind.
          The gypsy fliers knew it was better to land in a field near a
  road because then you would not have to walk so far to get gas, and if
  there was a barn handy, it was better to stake your airplane down behind
  it overnight, to keep it out of the wind.
          Thus, gypsy fliers became barnstormers.
          Each band of barnstormers consisted of individual heros, for
  anybody who flew was obviously superior to simple ground-bound folk.
  They dressed the part, they lived the part-- and if they swaggered a bit,
  they were forgiven.  A country must have its heroes, and while it was
  fine to give special notice to generals and admirals who fought great
  battles, the barnstormers were of a different breed....
          America's air strength had been slow in growing.  In the first
  eight years of the Army Aviation's existence, from 1909 to 1916, only 142
  aircraft had been built and delivered.  But the following June, Congress,
  facing the threat of war, made the largest single appropriation ever-
  $640,000,000 - for a skyful of airplanes.
          Flying schools mushroomed to train combat pilots for the planes
  we would eventually build-- too late.  Nearly 15,000 cadets received air
  training in this country and another 1,800 in Europe.  By March, 1918, as
  the war drew toward a close, Army Aviation's strength had zoomed to
  11,000 officers and 120,000 enlisted men.
          Not all of these trainees were pilots, of course.  At the time of
  the armistice, November 11, 1918, the country had at the front only 757
  pilots and 481 observers, with 740 planes and 77 balloons, while another
  1,402 combat-ready pilots, 769 airplanes and 252 balloon observers had
  entered the zone of advance....   [pp. 17-18]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          But there were fatalities.  Through the natural course of events,
  the less skilled pilots killed themselves off (along with their unlucky
  passengers) until by 1920, a toughened band of gypsy fliers, many of
  whose names are remembered today, simply took over postwar aviation.
          Remember Jack Knight?  Clyde Pangborn?  Eddie Stinson?  Frank
  Hawks?  Art Goebel?  Roscoe Turner?  Carl Squier?  Didier Masson?  Ormer
  Locklear?
          The list was a grease-stained honor roll of men who flew dawn to
  dusk, day after day, in sweaty uniforms behind overheated inline engines.
          Dale Seitz... Frank Clarek... Martin Jensen... Boots
  LeBoutillier...these were the wood-and-wire heroes of the Roaring
  Twenties....   [p.22]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  PICTURE:  Clyde Pangborn (left), a founder of Gates Flying Circus, and
            Colonel Roscoe Turner were charter members of QB (Quiet
            Birdmen) Club.  [Both shown looking at model of 247-D aircraft
            flown in London-Melbourne race in 1934.  p. 39]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          With his next design, DGA-6, Benny [Howard] built an amazing,
  four-place, high-wing monoplane with a wing-loading double that was
  accepted for land planes in 1933.  Called MISTER MULLIGAN, it was clocked
  at an amazing 287 mph at sea level under full 830-horsepower.
          Entered in the 1935 Bendix Air Race, MISTER MULLIGAN was a
  sleeper.  The favorite to win was a souped-up Wedell-Williams Racer flown
  by Colonel Roscoe Turner, another barnstormer turned speed pilot, but
  when the two ships flashed across the finish line at Cleveland, the
  timers checked and double-checked their stopwatches.  Vincent Bendix, the
  race sponsor, finally went to the microphone and announced, "The winner,
  by twenty-three seconds, is Benny Howard!"...     [p.42]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Government regulation of barnstorming was non-existent until the
  Air Commerce Act of 1926 placed licensing of pilots and aircraft under
  federal control.  In 1919, the only way to stop a foolhardy gypsy flier
  from endangering people on the ground was to let him go kill himself
  first....   [p.44]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  PICTURE:   [Poster illustration with caption "Iron Hat Johnston was
             featured performer at Air Pageant with Colonel Roscoe Turner,
             Gladys O'Donnell and Hollywood Trio.]

                            PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL
                                 AIR PAGEANT
                Auspices:  National Aeronautical Association
                      AIR RACES - WORLD'S SPEED DASHES
                           DAREDEVIL STUNT-FLYING
                       Headed by World-Famous Aviators
                Col. Roscoe Turner      "Iron Hat" Johnson
                                  America's Thrill Rival to Falconi and Udet
                Gladys O'Donnel         U.S. and Foreign Aces
                              Hollywood Trio
                  Frank Clarke  - Howard Batt - Paul Maentz
            CURTISS-WRIGHT FLYING FIELD     SAT. SUN. DEC. 16-17
            San Mateo                                     [p. 118]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Others to join the MPPA [Motion Picture Pilots Association] ranks
  from the barnstorming circuit, besides [Frank] Clarke, included Frank
  Tomick, a wartime March Field flight instructor, Ira Reed, an ex-Navy
  pilot, and "Colonel" Roscoe Turner, who won his commission as personal
  pilot of California's Governor "Sunny Jim" Rolph.
          Colonel Turner, one of aviation's most colorful figures, was
  amond the first to recognize the value of a natty uniform to impress
  customers, particularly the ladies.  Resplendent in red jacket, green
  whipcord breeches, riding boots and waxed mustache, Turner looked exactly
  the way folks thought a pilot should look.  He flew the way they liked,
  too, well enough to win the Bendix Trophy twice and set a number of
  city-to-city speed records nobody has gotten around to challenging.
          Turner first went into barnstorming on borrowed money and with
  the rank of Lieutenant in the Air Service, and from the start knew how to
  please the crowds well enough to earn as much as $1,000 a day performing
  such spectacular stunts as "Falling a Mile in Flames" -- a vertical dive
  performed with a smokepot.  Teaming up with another barnstormer named
  Arthur H. Starnes, Turner formed the Roscoe Turner Flying Circus, which
  guaranteed to perform:

                    ONE WING-WALKING SHOW, INCLUDING THE
                              "SWING OF DEATH"
                              A PARACHUTE JUMP
                AN AEROPLANE ACROBATIC FLIGHT, LOOPS, SPINS,
                        WINGOVERS, WHIP STALLS, ROLLS

          Later on, Roscoe bought an eighteen-passenger Sikorsky, the first
  built in America, and for several years made broadcasts from the sky,
  staged aerial pink teas for society women and carried charter parties
  wherever they wanted to go.  In Hollywood, Turner leased his Sikorsky to
  moviemaker Howard Hughes, who had it painted to resemble a German Gotha
  bomber for the great war film, HELL'S ANGELS.  If you saw the picture,
  maybe you remember the thrilling scene in which the Gotha, trailing
  smoke, spins to earth and crashes.  Al Wilson, the pilot, found himself
  in a real, not a make-believe crisis when he heard a wing spar snap.  He
  bailed out and lived, but a prop man named Phil Jones, operating the
  smokepot in the rear of the craft, failed to jump and was killed....
                                                          [pp. 124-126]

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Source:  Don Dwiggins.  THE BARNSTORMERS, Flying Daredevils of the
                Roaring Twenties.  New York, NY: Grosset & Dunlap
                Publishers, 1968.


       Data transcription by:  Milton Sandy, Jr. May 13, 1994.