Images from this article
Less than one decade after the immortal flight of the Wright Brothers at
Kittyhawk in 1903, the concept of flying emerged from the experimental to the
realm of the commonplace. By 1911, the skies were no longer the domain of the
inventor and daredevil but became available to anyone with the courage and
daring to fly. Everywhere, it seemed, men and women took to the air in fragile
machines, formed aero clubs, staged aviation meets, and tantalized earthbound
onlookers with their aerial gymnastics.
California, during that pioneering era, emerged as one of the most productive
centers for flight enthusiasts. Amateur birdmen, up and down the coast,
produced scores of flying machines, international aviation meets at Los Angeles
and San Francisco enthralled audiences, and barnstorming professionals aroused
local interest. Soon, the popular urge to fly led to the opening of dozens of
flying schools and the rapid growth of a novel and spectacular sport.
In 1911, Glenn Hammond Curtiss, a dynamic individual from Hammondsport, New
York, established California's leading aviation school at North Island in San
Diego Bay. Recognized as one of the world's premier aviators, Curtiss brought
impressive credentials to that remote island. A former motorcycle racer, he
built his first airplane in 1908, captured the prestigious Gordon Bennett Cup
race with his Golden Flyer in 1909, pioneered in the manufacture of airplanes
for sale, and developed the first successful American seaplanes.
The Curtiss School of Aviation at North Island remained open for three short
but fruitful years. During that brief period, Curtiss conducted remarkable
experiments and produced equally remarkable students. Realizing the military
potential of the airplane, the enterprising New Yorker established the first
military aviation school in the United States. Graduates, flying his reliable
biplanes, set world records and became some of the most illustrious flyers in
the world. Others, less ambitious, came to North Island for the sheer
enjoyment of learning a new sport. By the time the school closed in 1913, North
Island would become known as one of the nation's outstanding aviation fields.
Curtiss first learned of San Diego when he came to California in 1910 to
participate in a Los Angeles flying exhibition. Through the urging of the San
Diego Aero Club, the Spreckels-owned Coronado Beach Company offered the aviator
use of North Island for a period of three years. Certainly, the presence of the
celebrated flyer would boost the fortunes of San Diego's future in aviation.
Clearly impressed by the prospect of this rentfree facility, Curtiss wrote:
I visited the city in January, 1911, and after a thorough inspection of the
grounds offered as an aviation field, decided to make that city the
headquarters for the winter and carry on the experimental instruction work there.
North Island, lying in San Diego Bay, a mile across from the city, was
turned over to me by its owners, the Spreckels Company. It is a flat, sandy
island about four miles long and two miles wide with a number of good fields
for land flights. The beaches on both ocean and bay sides are good, affording
level stretches for starting or landing an airplane. Besides, the beaches were
necessary to the water experiments I wished to make. North Island is
uninhabited except by hundreds of jackrabbits, cottontails, snipe and quail.
It joins Coronado Island by a narrow sandspit on the south side, which is
often washed by the high tides. Otherwise the two islands are separated by a
strip of shallow water a mile long and a couple of hundred yards wide called
"Spanish Bight."
North Island appeared to be an ideal place for his winter headquarters for
additional reasons. Harsh winters at Hammondsport prevented yearround
experiments with his seaplanes and delayed the training of aviators. Curtiss was
delighted to discover that San Diego offered superb flying conditions
especially during the winter months. A San Diego location, combined
with the Hammondsport facilities, would permit the
operation of two schools based on the seasons.
Furthermore, the isolation of the island proved to be an attractive feature
as it would deter curious onlookers. Visitors could come to the island only by
boat and it was relatively easy to discourage them. In the Curtiss Aviation
Book, the aviator noted:
It was important to find a location where it would be possible to work
along the lines I had mapped out-a place where I might be free from the
pressing calls of business and the hampering influence of uncertain climatic
conditions.
Above all, I wanted a place not easy of access to the curious crowds that
gather wherever there is anything novel to be attempted; for a flying machine
never loses its attraction to the curious. Mankind has been looking for it
ever since the beginning of the world, and now that it is actually here he
can't get away from it, once it is in sight. A machine that has actually
carried a man through the air takes on a sort of individuality all its own
that acts as a magnet for the inquiring mind. Once people have really seen an
aeroplane fly, they want to know what makes it fly and to come into personal
contact with the machine and the man who operates it.
Isolation, however, had its price. The only structures on the barren island
consisted of an old farm house and hay barn. Despite abundance of quail and
cottontails, food had to be imported and students and staff had to commute by
boat from San Diego and Coronado. Colonization began in January when Curtiss
arrived with his wife Lena and several associates from Hammondsport. The hay
barn was converted into a hangar and the San Diego Aero Club added two more. The
latter were covered only with canvas and tarpaper which, according to the
aviators, blew off with maddening regularity. For the seaplanes, Curtiss built a
hangar on the beach of the Spanish Bight. Finally, a crew spent ten days
clearing a half mile long landing field of weeds and sagebrush. Located on the
south end of the island, the field gave the flyers easy access to the "smooth
and shallow" waters of the small inlet.
Having completed these preparations, the school was now ready to receive
its first students. Hugh Robinson, a graduate of the Hammondsport school and
former stunt car driver, served as an assistant instructor. Demonstrating
his business acumen, Curtiss invited the military
to provide the first students. In this way, he hoped to prove the warmaking
potential of his airplanes and sell them to the army and navy.
In response to Curtiss' offer, the Secretary of the Navy despatched
Lieutenant Theodore G. Ellyson to North Island "to receive instruction in the
manipulation of the Curtiss biplane." Prior to his arrival at San Diego, "Spuds"
Ellyson spent three years in the "submarine boat" service. Excited by this
opportunity, the young lieutenant remarked, "there is only one thing better than
submarine work and that is aviation." Ellyson had the distinction of enrolling
as Curtiss' first pupil at the new school, and as Navy Pilot Number One, began
the navy's air corps.
Three army officers, First Lieutenant Paul W. Beck, Signal Corps; Second
Lieutenant G.E.M. Kelly, 30th Infantry and Second Lieutenant John C. Walker,
Jr., 8th Infantry joined Ellyson to form the first military aviation school in
the United States. Charles Witmer of Chicago and Robert St. Henry of San
Francisco, two civilians, also enrolled. Later, a balloonist, Lincoln Beechey,
joined the class of 1911.
Before class got underway, the San Diego Aero . Club sponsored a meet on
January 26 and 27 at the Polo Grounds on Coronado Island. An enthusiastic
promoter, Curtiss took this opportunity to impress San Diego with the speed and
maneuverabiliy of his machines. Despite threatening weather, Curtiss flew his
biplane from North Island, across the Spanish Bight, and landed gracefully in
front of the grandstands. A small but appreciative crowd then watched his two
associates, Hugh Robinson and Eugene B. Ely perform a series of aerial stunts.
Ely, one of Curtiss' first pilots, had achieved international recognition
earlier that month when he became the first to take off and land on a battleship.
The following day, the three aviators thrilled a crowd of 10,000 with races,
spiral dips, and other aerial gymnastics. According to one account, "Curtiss
out-did Ely in the execution of air stunts by chasing a toy balloon, turning
first one way and then another, then upward and then downward, with ease and
quickness in order to catch the balloon." Lt. Ellyson participated as well by
making his maiden flight.
Following the aviation meet, instruction formally began. Curtiss brought to
the school four biplanes. Three were the sixty horse power eight cylinder engine
models similar to the Golden Flyer that Curtiss flew in 1909 when he won the
Gordon Bennett Trophy at Rheims. The other was a small training plane designed
for ground work. Curtiss and Robinson provided the tiny group with a thorough
and cautious program. Before anyone took to the air, each was required to master
the basics of aerodynamics and the mechanical workings of an airplane.
Thereafter, the instructors guided the students through a series of steps
that would lead to a pilot's license. As described in the Curtiss Aviation
Book, the students first familiarized themselves with a small training plane
affectionately called the "Lizzy." Composed of bamboo, spruce rods, wire and
cloth, the tiny four cylinder biplane was deliberately underpowered to prevent
flight. Sound reasoning dictated this as a crash landing by a beginner could
result not only in injury but also damaged equipment and delays to the entire
program. Curtiss remarked, "The other pupils standing in a group at the end of
the field are usually hoping and praying that you will not smash the machine
before their turn comes and so cause delay until it is repaired."
With the instructor shouting directions from the side, the pupils learned to
guide the craft on a straight line and "get the feel for the machine." Students
referred to this tedious process as "grass cutting." The teacher then changed
propellers and adjusted the throttle and permitted the novices to take off on a series of
short hops. When a student had gained the ability to make gentle landings, the
power was further increased and he learned to make turns and circles.
Finally, the students graduated from the Lizzy to the more powerful
exhibition biplanes. After weeks of practice, the tyro could then take the
pilot's license test. This examination required the flyer to take off and make
five consecutive figure eight's around two pylons set a thousand feet apart, and
to make an accurate landing stopping the machine within fifty feet of a given mark.
Everyday life at the aviation camp was busy. A typical day began at 4:00 a.m.
when the air was calm and conditions were right for flying. The afternoon gusts,
Curtiss discovered, could bring disaster to his fragile machines. When not
flying or scaring the local jackrabbits with grass cutting exercises, the
students kept themselves occupied with changing propellers, engines, controls,
and repair work. Curtiss related that there was a great rivalry between the army
and navy students at North Island. He wrote:
Witmer and Ellyson used to get up by sunrise and go over to the island and
take out the old machine we used for teaching, which was nicknamed "Lizzy."
They did this secretly because there was only one machine and they did not
want the Army to smash it and so keep them down on the ground. After making
their practice, they would go home and come back later, pretending that it was
their first appearance.
Occasionally turning from the instructional process, Curtiss and his
students found time to perform a variety of aeronautical experiments. From a
scientific and military viewpoint, his experiments with the sea (hydro) planes
represented his most important contribution during that winter. Ever since the
flight of the June Bug in 1908, the pioneer aviator planned to develop a craft
capable of taking off and landing in the water. During the winter season at San
Diego, Curtiss realized that goal. With the assistance of a local machinist, he
removed the wheels of an eight cylinder biplane and substituted two pontoons. On
January 26, the craft rose from the water, glided over the bay, and gracefully
landed. That event, witnessed by his cheering students, marked the
first successful flight of an American seaplane.
Encouraged by this noteworthy triumph, Curtiss made further improvements that
winter. With the machinist's assistance, he developed an amphibious craft called
the "Triad" and a biplane buoyed only by a single pontoon. In February, Curtiss
won the enthusiastic support of the navy by landing a seaplane alongside the
battleship U.S.S. Pennsylvania. As a result of that event, Curtiss
promoted the seaplane as an instrument of war. The navy, convinced of its
versatility, purchased two of the craft. Confident in its reliability, Curtiss
also used the seaplanes as an instructional tool as taxiing on the water enabled
the students to gain a sense of balance.
In April, the Winter Training School closed with a final exhibition meet.
Hugh Robinson, again demonstrating the military potential of the airplane, gave
a bomb dropping exhibition with a remarkable substitute for explosives,
California oranges. Lt. Ellyson and Charles Witmer followed with a grass cutting exercise.
The small but eager class of 1911 went on to distinguish themselves in their
new profession. The graduating officers formed the basis of an "air force" and
gave demonstrations at military bases across the country. Lincoln Beechey, a
natural daredevil, became known as the world's greatest exhibition flyer and
invented the "loop-the-loop." St. Henry and Witmer gained jobs with the Curtiss
Exhibition Company and the latter travelled abroad demonstrating hydroaeroplanes
in such far away places as St. Petersburg, Russia.
Curtiss, himself, gave seaplane exhibitions in Salt Lake City and St. Louis
before returning to Hammondsport. During the summer months, the inventor
continued his experiments, conducted advanced classes and recruited new
students. On one day, his students made a record forty flights. Always anxious
to improve teaching techniques, Curtiss invented a system of dual controls
whereby the instructor could teach while in the air. Previously, the instructor
had to shout orders from the ground.
By this time, the Curtiss School of Aviation had achieved widespread
recognition for excellence and requests for instruction were received from around the world. Capitalizing on
this success, Curtiss embarked on an advertising campaign to ensure a large
enrollment at the San Diego winter facilities. Competition was keen as aviation
schools were established in nearly every major city. California, a center for
the new mania, had schools in San Francisco, San Rafael, Oakland, Santa
Barbara, Los Angeles, and Santa Ana. None, however, could boast of the
experience of Curtiss, the reliability of his machines, and the success of his pupils.
To attract students, the Curtiss Aeroplane Company placed advertisements in
such national magazines as Aero and Aeronautics and the Los
Angeles monthly, Aviation. These advertisements generally praised the
reliability of the Curtiss biplanes, equipment, thoroughness of instruction and
the accomplishments of former students. Promoting the school as "the only safe
and sane method," Curtiss summarized the unique qualities of his course in
comparison to his competitors:
The aviation training courses, as given by the majority of schools does
not, in any way, disclose or explain the principles or give any attention to
mechanical or technical aerodynamics. In some schools the instructors do not
possess the knowledge and cannot, therefore, enlighten the pupils when
important problems present themselves. We consider that a thorough knowledge
of these subjects is essential to the success of any aviator, and that it is
just as much a part of the course as the flying itself.
The instructors in the Curtiss School are all practical flying men, well
grounded in all branches of the science, and especially trained to give
personal instruction to each student. The equipment and methods are
up-to-the-minute.
Frequently, Curtiss emphasized the attractiveness of San
Diego and the physical advantages of North Island:
Our San Diego, Cal., Aviation Training Grounds, situated on North Island,
San Diego Harbor, are the finest in America, if not in the world. North Island
is leased by us exclusively for Aviation purposes, and comprises one thousand
acres of flat, level sand, unobstructed by rock, tree or building, thus
offering every advantage as a flying course. The island is entirely private,
yet within a few minutes of San Diego, one of the most progressive and
attractive cities on the Pacific Coast.
Tuition, in comparison to other schools, was expensive. Curtiss charged $600
for the hydroaeroplane course and $500 for the regular class. As an added
incentive, however, the tuition was directly applicable to the purchase of an
airplane. Several did take advantage of that offer. For preparation, the company
provided a booklet entitled "Training."
Apparently, the advertising succeeded as a remarkably diverse group of
students enrolled for the 1911-1912 season. According to one aviation journal,
Curtiss hoped to train more aviators than all the other schools combined. In
contrast to the previous class, the military did not dominate. International in
flavor, the class included Mohan Singh from India, Motohisa Kondo and Kono
Takeishi from Japan, and Captain George Capistini of the Greek army. Proving
that flying was not limited to one sex, the "Bird Girl" Julia Clark enrolled. As
well, two married couples participated.
The large size of the class necessitated the establishment of another camp
for the military. According to Aeronautics:
So great has been the increase in the number of pupils at the Curtiss
Aviation School at North Island, San Diego, Cal., that a second camp has been
established on the north end of the island, opposite the headquarters on the south end.
Significantly, the military designated this camp as its official training
headquarters. Officials from the San Diego Aero Club proudly proclaimed
that this would establish their city
as the country's leading aviation center. Dubbed "Camp Trouble" by the navy, the
new camp consisted only of tent hangars and living quarters.
Class, according to the advertisements, began officially on December 1.
Earlier, the Curtiss Aeroplane Company had sent out a large amount of equipment
in the form of airplanes, parts, and machinery. A retired Marine lieutenant and
former Curtiss pupil, J.W. McClaskey was the chief instructor. Known as a gruff
taskmaster, McClaskey maintained a well disciplined camp. R.C. St. Henry, a
graduate of the 1911 winter school, arrived as the special instructor for the
hydroaeroplane course. Curtiss did not arrive until later and concentrated his
efforts on the hydroaeroplane experiments rather than on teaching.
Attired in leather caps and goggles, fifteen students went out to the flat
fields of North Island to learn the science of flying. Following the previous
year's curriculum, the students practiced grass cutting with the Lizzy. The 1912
class, however, enjoyed an added advantage as the Curtiss Company brought to the
camp a score of machines including the new dual control biplanes. Unfortunately
for the instructors, the situation was not so easy because of the foreign
students. This factor required the teachers to give the lessons in sign language
which, when given in the air, produced more than one nervous moment.
A few students displayed an unusual exuberance for flight. A middle-aged
couple, Mr. and Mrs. W.B. Atwater, took a particular liking to the
hydroaeroplane. Impressed by their enthusiasm, Curtiss wrote in "Waterflying for
the Sportsman,"
The hydro appealed to Mr. Atwater and his wife as an ideal type of machine,
and one was ordered for delivery in the east in May, but after a few rides in
the school machine, both Mr. and Mrs. Atwater were sure they could not wait
until spring, and had their machine delivered immediately in San Diego. The
following day after the arrival of his machine in San Diego, Mr. Atwater was
out flying alone, and the next day he took his wife out as a passenger. Since
that time they have not missed a day and have taken trips up and around the
bay together daily, and on several occasions, around North Island and out over
the ocean.
Lillian Janeway Atwater was often the center of attention at the school.
Enjoying the wildlife of the bay and the adventure of flying, she devised a new
way to catch sea birds:
Mrs. Atwater has originated a new method of catching seabirds. Today she
asked Lieut. J.W. McClaskey, instructor at the Curtiss School to take out the
hydroaeroplane, with her as a passenger and attempt to catch a pelican or gull
with a net. The instructor promptly agreed, and for almost half an hour the
big hydroaeroplane with Lt. McClaskey and Mrs. Atwater chased pelicans and
sea gulls up and down the bay. They discontinued the hunt only when a large
pelican barely escaped becoming entangled in the propellers, which would have
smashed it and possibly caused an accident.
Not to be outdone by his wife, Bill Atwater entered the January aviation meet
at Los Angeles and set an American speed record of 73.08 miles per hour. Later,
the couple took a balloon ride in the "America II" from Los Angeles to Pomona.
Atwater further won the praises of Curtiss when he rushed to the rescue of a
navy pilot who had overturned his Wright seaplane. Launching his plane from the
beach, Atwater rushed to his rescue ahead of several motorboats. Embarrassed by
the affair, the pilot refused Atwater's assistance and waited for his colleagues
to arrive. Apparently, the officer did not want to be rescued by a civilian.
After nearly eight months of instruction, catching sea gulls, and practicing
flying, the winter training camp came to a close. On May 19, the Class of 1912
received their pilots' licenses and became professional aviators. Mohan Singh,
the "Flying Hindu" purchased a seaplane and returned to India. The Japanese and
Captain Capistini, the Greek, returned to their respective countries to give
instruction. Other, like the Atwaters, travelled to China and Japan to exhibit
their new hydroaeroplanes. Still others joined the Curtiss Exhibition Company
and toured the country delighting thousands with their Curtiss biplanes.
Despite the reliability of their flying planes, thoroughness of instruction,
and the thrill of executing loop-the-loops, ocean waves, and spiral dips,
flying was still a dangerous sport and profession. Cromwell Dixon, the world's
youngest licensed aviator and Curtiss student, met death from a fall of 100 feet
in Seattle. Eugene B. Ely, who helped Curtiss open at San Diego, died in 1911
while performing aerial stunts. Julia Clark, the Bird Girl, died just one month
after leaving the San Diego school. Finally, Lincoln Beechey, the greatest
exhibition flyer of his day and graduate of the 1911 class, met his end by
crashing into San Francisco Bay in 1915.
The San Diego School of Aviation continued for one more winter until Curtiss'
lease expired in 1913. The U.S. Government then took over the hangars and
landing field and established Rockwell Field. During those three winter seasons,
Curtiss and his associates brought San Diego to the forefront of aviation. The
pioneer aviator's ingenious experiments with seaplanes added a new dimension to
aeronautics and proved the utility of the flying machine as an instrument of war.
Most importantly, Curtiss shared with dozens of pupils that incredible sensation
of flying and accomplished more than anyone to popularize aviation.
Gary Kurutz is Library Director for the California Historical Society. The
photographs used to illustrate this article are reproduced from a collection of
glass plate negatives recently acquired by the California Historical Society and
photographs from the San Diego Historical Society and the Historical Collection
of Title Insurance and Trust Company of San Diego.
