The World Fliers welcomed the opportunity to be relieved of flying the Cruisers for a while. Would someone else fly them back to Dayton or would they fly them to the various cities that had requested a visit? Would the planes then be donated by the government to museums or would they be put into service as trainers?
Three alternative plans were presented to General Patrick for decision. Plan A was for the planes to make a complete tour of the United States to forty-two cities that had extended invitations. Plan B proposed a shorter itinerary that would bring the planes for display to only five cities, including New Orleans and Chicago. There was a Plan C that would end the flying activity of the World Flight as an organization at Rockwell Field and the Chicago and New Orleans would be crated and shipped to those cities for permanent retention provided (1) the cities would consent to pay transportation charges, and (2) the War Department would consent to having the planes disposed of in that manner. The Boston II would be flown to McCook Field by a Rockwell pilot. The final decision was to be made after the fliers returned to Seattle.1
In accordance with their orders, the six airmen boarded the Olympian of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad bound for Chicago, accompanied by Capt. Burdette Wright, the advance officer, and Joe Bahl, a railroad executive who was assigned to assure their comfort en route. They loaded their baggage aboard and then went forward to the engine cab where they were surprised to learn that they were being pulled not by a steam locomotive but by an electric engine. Just as they left the Seattle station, Bahl showed them a telegram from the Spokane Chamber of Commerce saying the train would stop there for a short time to allow the city to give them a reception. They would be met by a Committee of Six which they assumed would be local officials.
The six airmen said they were fed up with receptions and under no circumstances did they want to stop more than the customary fifteen minutes the through trains usually stayed at each station for passenger and baggage transfers. But they were not to get their way. They were told that the “Committee of Six” had been carefully selected and it would be rude to ignore them. The Six turned out to be “the snappiest Spokanese that ever wore short skirts,” according to Smith.2 The fliers, all bachelors, said the train could wait until Doomsday for all they cared when they saw the six pretty girls who welcomed them. They delayed the train for an hour, which immediately put the famous Olympian behind schedule. Bahl had to order the train to leave.
It was on to Miles City, Montana, where a fleet of small planes dove on the train in greeting. When the train stopped, the airmen were presented with silk bandannas, loaded into an ancient stagecoach, and pulled up and down the platform to the delight of the citizenry. They were met from then on at the rest of the stops with more gifts representing each local area, including a case of canned corn at Aberdeen, North Dakota. Ducks, grouse, squabs, and prairie chickens were included at other stations; they graciously accepted but wondered what to do with them. When they arrived at Minneapolis, Smith was grabbed off the train by well-wishers, hustled into an automobile, and taken to a local radio studio to make a short speech. Cheering bystanders on the train platform shouted for Nelson, “We want to see the Big Swede!” Nelson accommodated them by waving his cap and showing them his bald head.
Bahl received stacks of mail for the fliers at each station. Most were letters of congratulation but a few also sought answers to strange questions, such as information about a brother who had been last heard of as a prisoner in a Siberian labor camp, and queries about tree-climbing fish that were said to be found only in Southeast Asia, and Alaskan ice worms they might have seen there. The greatest number of letters were from women, who no doubt had learned that the World Fliers were all bachelors. One classic letter gave a telephone number and said, simply, “My name is Carmen. I’m Spanish.”
The group finally arrived in Dayton and felt truly honored when they were met at the station by Orville Wright. They stayed for the International Air Races and were introduced to the applauding crowd. Luncheons and receptions followed. When the races were concluded, Smith received a telegram from General Patrick ordering them all back to Seattle to pick up the Cruisers and fly them across the country to McCook Field in accordance with a combination of Plans B and C of the proposed alternatives. A decision would be made later as to the eventual disposition of the planes.
There had been concern in Washington about giving the men a rest and some feared that their appearance at different cities throughout the country would be an anticlimax. “We had better stop while this is at its height rather than to continue while it gradually dies out,” General Patrick noted in a memorandum. “This people of ours does not think about the same thing for any great length of time. Like the Athenians of old, they are continually seeking for something new.”3
The Training and War Plans staff recommended, and General Patrick agreed, that the crews should proceed to Rockwell Field, San Diego, via Vancouver, Eugene, San Francisco, and Santa Monica. Upon arrival there, no more flying activity would be planned for them as an organization. With “Birdie” Wright preceding them to make arrangements, the Cruisers were flown from San Diego to El Paso. From there the Boston II and New Orleans proceeded to San Antonio, Houston, and New Orleans. Wade had a minor mishap at the latter as a tail skid broke when he taxied over a filled ditch. It was quickly repaired.
For honoring New Orleans by their plane’s name, Nelson and Harding were made honorary citizens and presented with huge loving cups four feet high. The Boston II and New Orleans then flew to Scott Field, Illinois, via Dallas and Muskogee, Oklahoma. Smith was directed to fly the Chicago directly from El Paso to Scott Field, Illinois, to await the other two planes. Despite pleas from prominent Chicagoans, its namesake would not be flown to Chicago.
W. A. Curley, editor of the Chicago Evening American, was unhappy with that decision and made a plaintive request that the Chicago return because “the plane was named for this city and because Chicago has been a leader in aviation affairs of the nation, the people of Chicago would appreciate this favor.”4 Chicago’s Mayor William E. Dever requested the plane be awarded to the city permanently “as the appropriate depository for the machine that bears its name.”5
Two months later, the Chicago was again the subject of a request from Frank Carson, managing editor of the Chicago Herald and Tribune, who said Chicagoans wanted it to land at a field in Lincoln Park on the lake front so it could be viewed “by the great majority of citizens who can’t afford autos and can’t spare time to go to Maywood” where it had landed previously. He said the field could be put in the proper condition “regardless of political assertions to the contrary. With election over and no chance to make political capital, won’t it be possible to bring ship to Chicago November 9 and land it on field within reach of all the people?”6
Patrick could not be dissuaded. Smith and Arnold entrained for Chicago from St. Louis and were immediately inundated with invitations to luncheons and dinners by civic clubs, the Army and Navy Club, and the American Legion over the next three days. They were completely surprised at a huge rally on 9 November in the Chicago Auditorium when Mayor Dever presented them each with a new Packard eight-cylinder limousine. Too overwhelmed to find the proper words, they stumbled through thank-you remarks saying they were extremely lucky that they had been privileged to fly the plane named for the city that offered such extraordinary hospitality. All Smith could think of to say was, “of all the cities in America that our plane could have been named after, we were indeed thankful that Lady Luck had been kind enough to award us the name ‘Chicago.’ ”7
When Smith and Arnold returned to Scott Field, Illinois, the six fliers were immediately engaged in an official welcome thirty miles away in St. Louis but the reception was not without a near tragedy. Lt. C. C. Moseley, the pilot of the plane that carried Lowell Thomas around the country trailing the World Fliers, invited Joseph O’Neill, vice chairman of the St. Louis reception committee, to make a local flight around Lambert Field with him. O’Neill, who had never been in a plane before, was to drop a bouquet of roses on the speakers’ stand as the fliers were being officially welcomed by the city. He had been kidded beforehand that Moseley’s plane was painted black and looked like a coffin so that all he had to do if there were an accident was to fold his arms. O’Neill was undaunted and threw the flowers at Moseley’s signal but the bouquet caught in the plane’s elevator wires and Moseley fought desperately for control. The plane pitched upward into a near-stall and threatened to crash onto the crowd but Moseley managed to shake the flowers free by skidding the plane and was able to recover from what could have been a tragic ending to a series of unprecedented American welcomes.
One of the lasting memories of the stay in St. Louis was a speech by Eugene H. Angert, a leading criminal lawyer and outstanding after-dinner speaker, who humorously summarized their flight:
“Colonel Perkins called me up late this afternoon and told me he had discovered why the visit of our distinguished guests was delayed for a whole week under such mysterious circumstances. They had been in a sanitarium. They had broken down under the strain of the dinners, luncheons, and banquets that were forced upon them in almost every city of the country since their return. It was not the food; and, strange to say, it was not even the drink, that did it. It was the speeches that had prostrated them. After-dinner speakers, or, in the vernacular, postprandial orators, had fed them on flattery until they became afflicted with acute mental indigestion. Extravagant praise, garnished with a sauce of superlatives, was served to them in celebration. They were gorged with hero worship and glutted with glorification. They were asphyxiated by adulation.”
Angert reviewed the round-the-world trips by Nellie Bly, André Jaeger-Schmidt, and others by land and sea, then continued his mocking of the World Fliers:
“More in sorrow than anger, let us compare these trips around the world with the one we are celebrating tonight. Our guests were aided and abetted from the beginning to the end of their journey by an army of mechanics, radio experts, weather forecasters, cheerupidists, mah-jongg players, and ouija board mediuma—an army greater in numbers than Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. They were supported by a fleet of government ships scattered throughout the navigable and unnavigable waters of both hemispheres as large as the combined fleets which the Five Great Naval Powers have agreed to scrap and did not. And I tell you in strict confidence … that during the entire flight it was impossible for these aviators to have dropped into the Atlantic or Pacific, the Arctic or Antarctic oceans, the Dead Sea, Salt Lake, or Cripple Creek, or into any bay, islet, lagoon, or pond, within the jurisdiction of the League of Nations, without alighting upon the deck of a United States warship.” Angert continued kidding them about the length of time it took the World Fliers to make their trip and compared them with the others who did it in less time and did not use airplanes to set their records. He added:
“Then let your manly bosoms contract with humility when you think of these three strong, sturdy Americans comfortably seated behind a Liberty engine capable of doing a hundred miles an hour, each with a mechanician by his side to put cracked ice on his head when he was hot and a hot water bottle on his back when he was cold, and supported by enough accessories before the fact and accessories after the fact to make a lawyer green with envy, not able to finish the trip in less than one hundred and seventy-five days!
“… But, after all, absence makes the heart grow fonder; and so, may I say to the guests of the evening, in all seriousness, that, despite your long absence, we are glad that you are back.… You have written an imperishable chapter in the record of American achievement—a record full of great accomplishments. You have met almost insurmountable difficulties and overcome them by your skill, your bravery, your endurance. It was an uncharted sea you sailed. It was a land of nothingness and space you conquered. The whole world acclaimed your flight, and we, your fellow citizens, are proud of the glory you have brought to the Nation.”8
When the festivities were over, the three planes were flown to McCook Field to await a final decision on their disposition. Smith, Nelson, Wade, and Arnold were then ordered to Washington to meet with General Patrick and make out their official reports while the flight was still fresh in their minds. Harding and Ogden were ordered to Seattle to await further assignment.9
As soon as the flight was successfully completed, a bill was introduced in Congress to give each of the fliers $10,000, promotion in rank, and award of the Medal of Honor. The War Department did not favor this kind of recognition. It was argued that the World Flight was made in the regular line of duty and that it would tend to sow disruption and resentment if the fliers were singled out and placed ahead of others in the services who would have done the same thing if they had the opportunity. Secretary of War Weeks declared that it was the intention of the War Department to compensate the fliers—for any nonreimbursable expenses they suffered–-either by departmental or by special authorization of Congress. If this was not possible, he said, he would dig down into his own pockets to repay them.
Many members of Congress were determined to reward the fliers and a bill was introduced in the House and Senate “to recognize and reward the accomplishment of the World Flyers.” The bill authorized the promotion of Smith to captain and a gain of one thousand files on the Regular Army promotion list; Wade, Arnold, and Nelson were advanced five hundred files. Ogden and Harding, both second lieutenants in the Officers’ Reserve Corps, were commissioned in the Regular Army and “placed on the promotion list next after the second lieutenant who immediately precedes them on the date of the approval of this Act.” All the fliers, including Martin and Harvey, were authorized to receive the Distinguished Service Medal and “accept any medals or decorations tendered or bestowed upon them by foreign governments.”10 The bill was approved on 25 February 1925 and signed by the president.
The disposition of the planes was discussed at length in Washington and political pressure was brought to bear from several quarters. In addition to Mayor Dever’s request the Chicago be awarded to the city and placed on permanent exhibition, other cities continued to ask that the crews and planes visit them for special occasions in the coming months. But to avoid and further adverse comment, the Secretary of War decided that the planes should not be flown again or loaned for expositions or air shows. The Chicago would be placed in the Smithsonian Institution in Washington and the New Orleans would remain at McCook Field for display in the Army Air Service Museum. Neither ever flew again; the Chicago was disassembled and sent by train to Washington.
The world soon forgot that other nations also had brave fliers who had wanted to have the honor of being first to blaze an aerial trail around the world. The world press had reported the various attempts as a race but none of the other contenders achieved their ultimate goal. They had limited financial and logistical support from their respective governments and each attempt had ended in the loss of the aircraft; few mementos of their flights survive today.
Squad. Ldr. Stuart MacLaren, navigator, Flying Officer W. N. Plenderleith, pilot, and Sgt. Richard Andrews, mechanic, had left Calshot, England, in a Vickers amphibian on 15 March 1924. With Lt. Col. L. E. Broome later substituting for Andrews, MacLaren’s dream had ended with a crash landing in rough seas near Nikolski in the Soviet Komandorski Islands.
Two Portuguese fliers, Capt. Brito Pais and Lt. Sarmiento Beires, had left Lisbon on 2 April 1924 and were forced to abandon their attempt near Macao, a Portuguese settlement in southeastern China. Maj. Pedro Zanni, the Argentine pilot, with Lt. Nelson T. Page as navigator and Felipe Beltrame as mechanic, had left Amsterdam on 26 July 1924 and had crashed near Hanoi. They transferred to another plane to resume the attempt and on a takeoff from Osaka, Japan, overturned in heavy seas; Zanni decided not to continue even if repairs were made.
France’s noted pilot Capt. Pelletier d’Oisy and Sgt. Bernard Vesin, mechanic, had crashed near Shanghai, which ended their effort to capture the honor for their country. And the Americans had known first-hand how Antonio Locatelli’s attempt had ended. He had started in July from Pisa, Italy, and had to abandon his plane after landing at sea in foggy weather near Greenland on 21 August 1924. As the Americans neared their goal in September, no other nations indicated an interest in making a World Flight. There was no glory in being second.
The American success was destined to be remembered as a historic aviation way-point. It had been planned and executed as a military mission and had the support of several branches of the government. It had been a test of men, machines, and superior logistical planning. America would preserve the planes to remind all who see them in the future that the flight was made successfully when many thought it was an impossible task to ask in peacetime of men in uniform. Especially noteworthy was the exceptional cooperation recorded by the U.S. Navy during the Pacific and Atlantic oceans and Southeast Asia phases of the flight. This was during a period of much rancor between the services when Gen. William “Billy” Mitchell was fighting for a separate air force and the Navy was adamant that it was not needed. Unprecedented assistance to the flight was also rendered by the U.S. Coast Guard with great willingness during the Aleutian portion of the flight, even to the extent of putting their ships and crews into perilous situations.
Formal recognition for the 1924 achievement occurred in the spring of 1925 when the Army Air Service was awarded the prestigious Collier Trophy named for Robert J. Collier, a prominent publisher, patriot, sportsman, and aviator. Collier proclaimed the ideal that the flying machine should be unselfishly and rapidly developed to its ultimate possibilities for America’s economic advancement and preservation. His trophy is awarded annually “for the greatest achievement in aeronautics or astronautics in America, with respect to improving the performance, efficiency, and safety of air or space vehicles, the value of which has been thoroughly demonstrated during the preceding year.”
The three pilots, Smith, Nelson, and Wade, received honorary Master of Science degrees from Tufts University, Medford, Massachusetts, at the June 1925 commencement. After the three planes were flown to McCook Field to await their fate. Lowell Thomas, the flight’s historian, was granted permission to fly from McCook Field to Washington with Lieutenant C. C. Moseley in a DH-4 and finish collecting their reminiscences of the flight for his book.
Smith made an extensive report of the flight and praised the outstanding work of the flight committee and the untiring and efficient manner in which the advance officers contributed to the flight’s success under the most trying handicaps. He also commended the U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, and the Bureau of Fisheries, and especially the Eider’s skipper, who “was very resourceful and deserves the highest commendation on his efficient cooperation” during the Aleutian phase of the flight. He also noted that the inhabitants of every nation wherever a landing was made “were anxious to do everything within their power to assist the flight.” Also praised was the Danish Coast Guard and the crew of the Island Falk who rendered every assistance, “both by the use of their radio and the actual servicing and guarding of the planes, and also in caring for the flight’s personnel in Fredricksdal where no lodging facilities were available.”11
Nelson submitted a forty-five-page report as the flight’s engineering officer and pointed out failures or substandard aircraft parts and equipment and his recommended changes for future operations of this type. He commented on the mechanical difficulties experienced with the engines, ignition, cooling, and oil and fuel systems on each leg of the flight and the lessons and innovations the fliers and crews originated about servicing, docking, and caring for the planes. Of special concern to all the crews throughout the flight were the fragile pontoons; Nelson recommended metal ones for future use. His comments about the planes included the landing gear, tail skids, wings, fuselage, propellers, hand fuel pumps, instruments, and controls.12
Arnold submitted a finance report and stated his difficulties in paying the bills in foreign countries. Major Martin had been given about $17,000 to be used to pay local charges throughout the flight but after his crash in Alaska, Arnold had been given the responsibility to pay all bills after they reached Tokyo. He was given $17,000 of which $14,000 was converted into a letter of credit with the International Banking Corporation of New York. He noted that it was not always possible to keep money on hand of the country they happened to be in or to obtain it from the local banks. “Through China, the Mexican peso was used; in Indohina, it was the Indochinese franc and also the Mexican peso,” he wrote. “From Burma through India and on to Baghdad, the Indian rupee is accepted, and from Constantinople on to England, either English, French, or American currency is accepted in all countries. Iceland has a currency of its own, but Danish currency is acceptable, while Greenland uses Danish currency only.”13
Arnold revealed that the pilot of each plane had been given $1,000 in banker’s checks at the start of the flight to be used as emergency funds. “The wisdom of this was proven when Major Martin was lost with the main funds. The combined amount from the remaining three planes was more than ample for things until the additional funds were secured in Tokyo.”14
Smith wrote a separate confidential report for General Patrick. He commented on the severe weather they encountered and concluded, “An airway through the Aleutian Islands for the operation of planes during the entire year is believed to be quite impracticable with present aeronautical equipment.” He commented that they were courteously received by the Japanese people, especially by the Japanese school children. “It is believed that they were sincere in their enthusiasm but that their friendship was to the personnel of the World Flight. That there was an underlying feeling against the American government which, to a certain extent, was shown in what may or may not have been false pride and a desire to show their importance. Many small incidents would bring out this feature of their character, some of them being the difficulty of obtaining permission to pass through Japan, unreasonable schedules for radio activities of the U.S. Navy patrol ships, the prevention of a landing party going ashore at Hitakoppu, although there was absolutely nothing on the island of military or naval construction, and the prohibition against taking photographs, or in several instances requiring the flight to take a round-about course to keep them away from some very minor forts, even though we assured them that our cameras were all sealed and that our mission was flying around the world and not to obtain military information.
“In one case, at a small dinner given by some Japanese officers to myself and Lieutenant Commander Frost of the U.S. Navy, a major in the Japanese infantry while slightly under the influence of liquor and in a very talkative mood, expressed his friendship for us and for all American Army and Navy officers, adding that Americans had frequently insulted Japan and slapped her face but that sometime Japan was going to slap back; further stating that when this was done, the Japanese Army and Navy officers would be fighting the American Army and Navy officers, not because they personally were enemies, but because it was their occupation to protect their countries. His views seemed to be the views of the other six or eight Japanese Army and Navy officers present.
“The American fliers were not given a decoration by the Japanese government as was given to the French flier, Captain d’Oisy. This may have been due to the unrest among the Japanese people caused by the Japanese Exclusion Act which had been passed about two weeks previously.”15
Smith reported briefly on the aircraft activities he observed in the various other foreign countries with special mention of the established airway being flown by commercial aircraft between Constantinople and Paris by the Franco-Romanian Aviation Company. He was especially surprised to find that Romania was building an air force nearly as great as that of the United States. He also added that “we were all astonished to learn of the size and efficiency of the French Air Force.”16
In a final paragraph, Smith commented, “It was very disappointing to us and humiliating to Americans to find that most of our country’s representatives are not in as good standing with native-born and European inhabitants throughout the countries we visited as those from the European countries. This is due in a great measure to the small amount of pay they receive, to their inability to obtain funds for officers to compare with those of other governments, and to the fact that they are given very little if anything to carry on the necessary entertainment required of them. It is believed by the undersigned that frequent visits of American naval ships or distinguished American citizens would greatly help the situation, and also add to our trade relations with any of the countries throughout the world. It is believed that more can be done to establish permanent peace, or at least a postponement of wars, in this manner than in any other way.”17
The question about the disposition of the Chicago and the New Orleans continued to be contentious as urgent requests were persistently received from politicians and civic leaders. Cities that had not been visited requested that the pilots and planes favor them with their presence for brief periods. General Patrick held fast and continued to feel that to accede to these requests would result in a storm of protest from those not so favored. In addition, because of their construction, the planes could be easily damaged if handled by inexperienced personnel. The decision was finalized after a careful study that was reflected in an answer to one of the requests: “If they were to be lent as exhibits to be used as celebrations and ceremonials throughout the country, they would soon be in such a state of repair that a great deal of the sentimental value which is now attached to them would be lost.”18
Secretary of War Dwight F. Davis agreed and the issue was settled. He decided that the Chicago would remain in the Smithsonian Institution in Washington and the New Orleans would stay at the Air Service Museum at McCook Field. Neither plane was to be flown again or loaned for display at expositions and air shows. After negotiations with Donald W. Douglas Sr. in 1927, the New Orleans was subsequently sent from the Air Service Museum to the Los Angeles County Museum for display where it eventually fell into disrepair. When this became known to Douglas, he volunteered the services of his company to prepare it for shipment to the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton and it was transported there in a Douglas C-124 in March 1957. In still another turnabout, it was returned to its birthplace in September 1988 and is now on display in the Museum of Flying, which stands on the site of the old Douglas plant, adjacent to the Santa Monica Airport. In its place at the Air Force Museum is an exhibit of items related to the flight, such as flying clothing, aircraft parts, gifts and medals awarded the fliers, and a diorama depicting the Seattle and the Boston, which appear to be tied up at a dock at Sand Point, Washington. Most of the personal items were donated by Leigh Wade, John Harding, and Erik Nelson.
The Chicago also suffered the ravages of time during its years in the metal shed at the Smithsonian Institution. The fabric started to split and crack and curators suspected that rot and corrosion were eating away at the wood and metal. Careful restoration began in 1971 and was completed in 1974. It has remained on display in the Milestones of Flight Gallery on the second floor of the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum since its opening in 1976.
Some of the remains of the ill-fated Seattle that had crashed in Alaska have also been preserved. Employees of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries found the crash site in late 1924, and $500 had been allotted to Lt. Robert Koenig, the base commander at Sand Point Airfield, to salvage parts of the plane that could be brought out by dog sled.19 The main fuselage and engine remained at the site for many years until the engine and other parts were flown out by helicopter in the 1960s with the encouragement and assistance of Reeve Aleutian Airways president Robert C. Reeve and Lowell Thomas Jr. The engine and the rest of the displayable items were on exhibit at the Alaska Transportation Museum in Palmer, Alaska, until 1993, and were moved to the Alaska Aviation Heritage Museum near Anchorage International Airport where they can be seen today.
There were some missing items carried on the Seattle that had not been known about until a year after the crash. Clarence J. Bertler, a stamp collector, had persuaded Martin and Harvey secretly to carry a number of postcards in the plane. They could carry only a few with them when they left the crash site. The following spring, when the snow had melted and a search party reached the plane, the elements and wild animals had destroyed so much of what remained of the plane, the equipment, and the postcards that nothing of value was found except the plane’s metal parts.20 It is not known if any of the postcards carried by Martin and Harvey survive today.
The Boston II had a different story. It had a checkered career after the other four planes had departed the country. It had been transferred from McCook Field in the spring of 1924 to Langley Field, Virginia, when it was first thought it might be shipped to England so Major Martin could rejoin the flight. After it was uncrated and the decision was made not to have Martin rejoin the others, Lt. George McDonald was authorized to proceed with arrangements for making endurance tests at Langley and attempt to set a world seaplane distance and endurance record. Neither of these flights was carried out. The plane was returned to McCook Field in June 1924 to complete long-distance navigation and engineering tests because “a considerable misimpression of the performance of this aircraft is believed to exist.”21 It was used for further testing at McCook Field and was returned to Langley to be fitted with pontoons and tested for the flight to Nova Scotia for Wade and Ogden. After it was returned to McCook from Seattle, it was flown to Kelly Field, in San Antonio, Texas, home of the Air Service mechanics’ school, and was eventually scrapped there on 14 May 1932.
The Air Service, impressed with the World Cruiser design, ordered five to be used as observation aircraft. Initially designated the DOS (Douglas Observation Seaplane), it retained its pontoon/wheels interchange capability but had its fuel capacity reduced to 110 gallons. Twin .30-caliber machine guns were mounted in the rear cockpit. Later designated O-5, the five planes were assigned to the Second Observation Squadron at McKinley Field in the Philippines.
The fliers all continued to lead interesting lives related to aviation after the World Flight. Frederick L. Martin, the original commander of the flight, returned to his assignment at Chanute Field, Illinois. He subsequently was commanding officer of Bolling, Kelly, Randolph, and Wright fields, before being assigned as commander of Barksdale Field, Louisiana, in 1937. In 1940, as a major general, he was named commander of the Hawaiian Air Force at Hickam Field and was in that assignment when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941. A staunch advocate of a stronger air force and additional air strength in Hawaii, he had warned eight months before in a report he coauthored with Rear Adm. Patrick N. L. Bellinger that there was the possibility that Japan could attack the islands by air and would probably do so on a Saturday, Sunday, or American national holiday. In the aftermath of the investigation of the surprise raid, he was relieved of command and transferred to head the Second Air Force with headquarters at Fort George Wright, Spokane, Washington. He retired in 1944 for physical disability and died in Los Angeles in 1954.
Lowell H. Smith remained in the service and held sixteen national and world flying records for speed, duration, and distance. He charted some of the earliest airway routes and in the mid-1930s flew tests on the original Northrop Flying Wing. He also contributed to the development of airborne assaults and participated in the first mass parachute troop drops before World War II. During World War II, he was a colonel and commanded Davis-Monthan Field near Tucson, Arizona. He was killed while riding his favorite horse during a vacation in the Catalina Mountains in 1945. He was inducted into the Arizona Aviation Hall of Fame in May 1994.
The year after the World Flight, Leigh Wade and Linton Wells teamed up to drive a Packard sedan from Los Angeles to New York City in 165 hours, 50 minutes without stopping, thus completing the first transcontinental nonstop automobile trip. Wade left active duty in 1926 and planned to make an oil survey in the Antarctic with Lowell Thomas, but the venture did not take place because of the lack of financial backing. He also planned a world flight in a seaplane in the summer of 1928 with Floyd K. Smith, president of New York & Western Airways, as copilot. The flight was to begin and end at Chicago. Capt. Bradley Jones, chief of air navigation of the U.S. Army was slated to go as navigator; a mechanic was to be named later. Although a syndicate of New York stock brokers was formed to back the flight, the $110,000 needed was not raised.
Wade next became a test pilot for Consolidated Aircraft Company and later was the company’s representative in Latin America. He was recalled to active duty shortly before World War II, served in Cuba, and was air attaché to Greece, Brazil, and Argentina between 1941 and 1955 when he retired as a major general. He served as an assistant to the chairman of the board of an insurance company for the next ten years. He was enshrined in the National Aviation Hall of Fame in 1974 and died on 31 August 1991 at the age of 93.
Erik H. Nelson left active duty in 1928 and became a sales manager and later a vice president and director of the Boeing Aircraft Company. He was involved in the formation of the Boeing Air Transport Company that later became United Air Lines. After retiring from Boeing in 1936, he worked as an aviation consultant. During World War II, he worked on aircraft development which included the B-29 Super Fortress. He was appointed a brigadier general in 1945 and died in Hawaii on 9 May 1970 at age 81.
Henry H. Ogden left active duty in 1926 and helped organize the Michigan National Guard. He was a commercial test pilot and manager of the Mazatlan and La Paz Air Mail and Passenger Line for the Mexican government in the 1930s. He also helped organize construction of smelting and mining operations in that country. He designed and manufactured a small trimotor aircraft named the Ogden Osprey. He moved to England in 1939 with the Lockheed Aircraft Company and remained there until 1946. He became a vice president of Lockheed and retired in 1955.
After the World Flight, John T. “Jack” Harding Jr. teamed up with Lowell Thomas for a national lecture tour in 1925 that was widely acclaimed. Using motion and still pictures, the two entertained audiences with stories about the flight that Thomas accompanied with colorful descriptions and history of the countries the Cruisers had visited and flown over. Harding then worked for Boeing Aircraft Company and Menasco Manufacturing Company as a sales representative before starting his own company in Dallas, Texas. In 1940 he patented and manufactured electric fuel valves that were used on fighters and bombers during World War II. After the war, his interests turned to real estate holdings in Texas and California. He died at La Jolla, California, in 1968.
Leslie P. Arnold resigned from the Army Air Corps in 1928 and joined Maddux Air Lines that later was bought by TAT and became Trans World Airlines. He became a vice president of Eastern Air Lines in 1940 and was called to active duty as a colonel with the Eighth Air Force in Europe during World War II. He retired as a major general and died in 1962.
Alva L. Harvey completed flight training and was commissioned in 1926. In September 1941, while stationed in Puerto Rico, he piloted a B-24 over 3,150 miles to Moscow with members of a Lend-Lease delegation. He continued around the world via India, Australia, Wake Island, and Hawaii, completing 27,238 miles. During World War II, he commanded a group of the Twentieth Bomber Command in China and the Marianas, and retired as a colonel in 1956. Afterward, he was a sales manager for a real estate firm in northern Virginia and died in 1992.
In retrospect, these men had defied the odds by surviving at a time when planes were extremely fragile and parts of the world were not ready for aviation. They had flown over twenty-eight different nations and colonial mandates and made seventy-two stops for fuel and maintenance. Besides being the first airmen to circumnavigate the globe, they were the first to cross the Pacific, the first to cross the East China Sea, and the first to cross both of the world’s largest oceans. The World Flight had resulted in a daring success and proved that aviation could significantly diminish the bonds of time and distance.
Despite the many successful world flights made since those trial-and-error days of aviation, it is significant that for seventy-five years none have been made in an open cockpit, single-engine plane. That was true until Robert Ragozzino of Norman, Oklahoma, completed a World Flight of more than 23,000 miles in a biplane between 1 June 2000 and 17 November 2000 in five days less time than the old World Cruisers. The differences were that he few alone and chose to go west-to-east instead of east-to-west as the World Cruisers had done. He began his flight from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, in a World War II Stearman single-engine open-cockpit trainer modified to carry extra fuel. His purpose was to beat the 175 days it had taken for the 1924 flight. If he were successful but didn’t make it within that time period, he would still have set a record by doing it solo.
Ragozzino’s attempt was stalled on 29 September 2000 when he encountered stronger-than-forecast head winds on the 1,700-mile over-water leg from Kushiro, Japan, to Shemya, Alaska, and had to divert for fuel at Petropavlovsk on the Kamchatka Peninsula in Russian territory. He was detained for more than three weeks and was threatened with deportation and confiscation of his airplane, although he was in compliance with international aviation regulations. When he was finally permitted to depart, he flew to Attu and then to several more stops along the Aleutian chain to Anchorage, Alaska. He made eight more landings before reaching Will Rogers Airport in Oklahoma City.
The Stearman was equipped with modern navigation instruments, including three global position systems, advanced radio and radar systems, and a search and rescue organization. He was also able to take advantage of accurate weather reports and forecasts. His success nonetheless is a tribute to aviation progress and serves to memorialize the first World Flight made seventy-six years before.