Louis Paulhan's flights in New Orleans in 1910 were heralded as the first air shows in the South. The French aviator was already famous for his exploits on the West Coast and in Europe, and his daring demonstrations during Carnival that year made him a darling of the local press.
But a close look at newspaper archives suggests Paulhan was not the first person to fly in New Orleans. He apparently missed out on that distinction by a week and a half to an unheralded pilot from Dayton, Ohio, whose moment of glory went terribly wrong.
Harry Magill, or MacGill or even McGill, depending on the source, had little experience in airplanes, but he had flown hundreds of times in a dirigible. In fact, he had figured out a way make his hobby profitable: He had signed a contract with Nicaraguan revolutionaries to drop bombs from his hydrogen-filled blimp on forces loyal to the president of the Central American nation.
Perhaps it was his good fortune, then, that after a change of command the arrangement was canceled as Magill was preparing to set sail from New Orleans. That's how the would-be mercenary found himself with down time in the port city in late January of 1910, and with his dirigible and a biplane ready to go. Plans for a series of flight demonstrations were hastily made.
As with other early flights in New Orleans, the City Park racetrack was considered an ideal venue because it had stands for spectators, as well as an infield on which the plane could build up speed before liftoff. (The Fair Grounds was busy preparing for its annual auto racing "Mardi Gras Speed Carnival" at the time.)
The first exhibition was scheduled for Jan. 29. Tickets for box seats were sold for $1.50 at Werlein's music store, and general admission was $1 at the gate.
A canvas garage of sorts was thrown together at the park to house the balloon and biplane. During the daytime, a team of mechanics would work on the machines, and at night Magill slept inside the tent to protect his investment.
Three days before the big day, according to the New Orleans Item, Magill made a trial run. Although few people witnessed it, that flight was apparently the first ever in New Orleans.
The pilot "took a start of about 125 yards," the afternoon paper reported. "When his engine was running in good shape, he tilted the side planes upward and up in the air he went.
"He arose to a height of about 300 feet and then circled around and around at will. He finally came down almost in the same spot from where he went up and alighted as easily as a pigeon."
Then, the next night, disaster struck. A storm rolled through the city from the north, bringing winds of 60 miles per hour. The tent was ripped to shreds. The blimp, which had been filled with gas, was blown out onto the infield as the pilot and mechanics gave chase. Its silk balloon was eventually punctured, and it collapsed on the ground.
"While we were endeavoring to control the balloon," Magill told a reporter the next day, "the aeroplane took French leave and was carried by the wind across fences and house tops like a huge specter of the wind. We located it out in marshy soil, and it was due to this that the machine was saved from greater damage."
But the damage was bad enough. The most serious problem was that the propeller was in pieces.
The pilot remained optimistic, though.
"I am told that last night's storm was a most unusual occurrence for this time of the year in New Orleans," he said, "but that after such violent winds atmospheric conditions usually become ideal. If this is true, we can look for some very successful flights for the next two weeks and give Mardi Gras visitors, as well as residents of New Orleans, an opportunity to see a war balloon and an aeroplane in flight and maneuvers."
The first exhibition was rescheduled for Jan. 30. Thousands of people were on hand, including "the elite of local society" and Mayor Martin Behrman and his family, according to The Daily Picayune. The weather was glorious. One of the best bands in the city played in the grandstand, "zealously rendering popular airs."
History was about to be made.
Only it wasn't. At 2 p.m., the motor was cranked up. The propeller of the airplane turned, but it did not fit well and was rubbing against wires that were part of the steering mechanism. Inexplicably, Magill still thought it prudent to try to fly. But he "did not succeed in divorcing himself and biplane from terra firma," in the words of the Picayune. As for the bandaged blimp, he never even tried to get it off the ground.
Refunds were issued to everyone who had bought a ticket, and Magill went broke.
The next week, Louis Paulhan arrived in town, and his flights from City Park were a success.
During Paulhan's demonstrations, Magill, the first man to fly an airplane in New Orleans, was relegated to delivering lectures and charging people money to see the plane that wouldn't fly. When the French aviation hero left New Orleans for shows in other parts of the country, Magill apparently stuck around, still hoping to take to the skies.
"A new propeller, one of larger size, is all I needed, and it's about finished," he was quoted as saying in a story published on Feb. 17, 1910.
It seems unlikely that he succeeded, at least in New Orleans. A search of archives shows the city's major papers never mentioned pilot Harry Magill again.
Story, comments and photo gallery: http://www.nola.com
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