MEN WITH WINGS

Radio Record, Volume XII, Issue 36, 17 February 1939, Page 21

MEN WITH WINGS

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SYNOPSIS. Because he has not learned instrument and "blind’ flying, Pat Falconer, wartime ‘‘ace,’’ crashes into the Atlantic in a fog in May, 1927, im a monoplane built by his life-long friend, Scott Barnes. He is rescued by Barnes and SBarnes’s mechanic, Joe Gibbs. Charles A. Lindbergh successfully makes the flight. The loss of the plane, financed by Falconer, is a shock, for Pat, Scott and Peggy, Pat’s wife, have been interested in flying since 1904, and Scott and Pat have been building and flying planes since 1914. CHAPTER IX. ; AT FALCONER’S failure to span the Atlantic and bring fame to Falconer aeroplanes was insignifieant in the light of what happened two years later. Hight years of prosperity had sent the market sky-high, wages were increasing, and everyone believed the rosy path to easy living had been found. when the tragic surprise came-the market erash of October, 1929. Word of the falling market, suicides, bank failures and other finaneial catastrophes penetrated even as far as Underwood, Maryland, where Hiram Jenkins still edited the "Daily Record" the way he wanted to in face of the heckling of his city editor, Hank Rinebow. Hiram, his hat on his head, his -feet on his desk, sat in his private office reading his favourite newspaper-the "Record’when Hank rushed in, spluttering. "Ffiram!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "They’re going to close the Stock Exchange for a couple of days! Do you realise what that means?" Hiram continued to eye the newspaper. "Yes. Speakeasies’ll be more erowded than usual." "Bein’ news, we won't print it, will we?" Hank demanded, bitterly. "Nope!" snapped Hiram. "Why, you old fool, we’re going through the greatest panic in American history!" Hank stormed. "We're havin’ a whole month of Black Fridays! Banks’re failing, the Stock Market has gone down for the third time, people are jumping out of windows in flocks, like pigeons!" Hiram leaped to his feet and shook his finger dramatically. "Youre a sample of the kind of person who’s causing all this trouble!" he hellowed. "The ‘Daily Record’ refuses to be un-

American! The ‘Daily Record’ refuses to admit there is a crash! The ‘Daily Record’ will keep its readers satisfied!" "And as ignorant as the editor!" Hank yelled. Hiram waved his arms expansively. "Look around you!’ he _ demanded. "A chicken in every pot, two cars in every garage, stores open, homes filled with happy people, streets full of automobiles, streams of shoppers- streams oLr--"’ "People formin’ into breadlines!" Hank scoffed. Time proved that Hank, as _always, was right. As the months passed, few people had money to buy Falconer aeroplanes. The number became less and less, until Falconer was only.a faintly remembered name. By 1930, the once booming California factory was a wreck. The long, low buildings were losing their paint, windows had been broken, and the once-green lawns were uncared for. The field beyond the plant, once trembling beneath the roar of motors, was deserted, save for tumbleweeds which rolled across it. So reduced had the vast and flourishing organisation become that Scott, working constantly in his office, from which he could see the shops filled with half-completed wings, fuselages and motors, and Joe, sadly trudging from office to office with a time-clock swung over his shoulder, were the only employees. Finally, Scott himself saw that no hope remained. One day he was gathering up his last personal possessions-the last thing he took from the wall was a model plane that had once belonged to Nick Ranson-making ready to depart for the last time. He was casting a final look around him when he saw Peggy coming toward him. She was followed’ by her daughter, Patty, now a girl of eleven. He hurried through the junkpacked shop to join them. He saw Joe, who had deserted his rounds, sitting on a crated motor, opening his lunch pail, waved to him, continued onward to Peggy. He read sorrow in her face. "T hope this isn’t going to get you down," he said. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you," she replied. Patty saw Joe, ran to join him. Peggy added: "When I drove in I saw one open

hangar marked with your name. What does that mean?" "it means I’m still trying," he replied. "I’ve rented the hangar from Pat's creditors. Vm going to design a bomber for the Army." "Yow ll need money,’ Peggy reminded him, flatly. "None of yours," he said, sternly. "This is a gamble." He saw a reminiscent, sad smile play around her features. "Do you remember that I helped build the first plane you ever made that flew?" she asked. "T__know how you feel," he said, nodding. "We'll talk it over with Pat." He saw Peggy stiffen. "Tt’s too late," she said. "What do you mean?" he demanded. While Peggy vainly struggled to find her voice, Patty indirectly gave him the answer. He heard her tell Joe, with whom she was sharing a sandwich: "Dad went away to China last night." "What did he go for?" Joe asked. ") guess he couldn’t stand

sitting around home-after losing everything," Patty said frankly, tears in her eyes, "There’s fighting Seott turned from the mechanic and the little girl to the sad-eyed woman who stood before him. "Tt guess," he said, slowly, "if you want-you can help me-like you did before." Pityingly, Scott put a brotherly arm over Peggy’s shoulders. Silently, they walked toward the door of the factory. "J guess mother is going. Goodbye!" Patty exclaimed, and followed. A few minutes later, Scott returned to Joe, found him staring into space. "Say, Joe!" he demanded. "Do you want a job where you won't get paid very often?" Joe jumped to his fet, gulped on a sandwich, beamed. "J thought for a minute you'd forget me, Boss," he said, happily. That was the beginning. The four-Peggy, Patty, Scott and Joe -went to. work on the bomber. They toiled night and day. Patty, who heard her mother talk of the days when she had worked on the early aeroplanes, did odd jobs while

Seott designed, Peggy figured, and Joe passed out tools, worked on the wings, fuselage and fittings. Scott was carrying out radical ideas. First he built a "mock-up," or none flying, life-sized replica of the ship to be. It was made of cardboard, soft wood, anything he could lay his hands on. The end was in sight two years after the job started. Patty’s hands were scarred with toil one night as she worked under the single fioodlight in the hangar. Peggy sat on a stool behind a desk, writing down figures and erasing them. Scott worked in the front of the fuselage of what would some day be.a twin-motored monoplane. Joe watched him operate the controls. "J think everything’s about right," Scott said, finally. "Ya better lower that cowl and make the windshield bigger,’ Joe suggested. . "Why?" asked Scott. "Tt hear th’ Army likes to see where they’re goin’," Joe answered, Peggy laid aside her pencil, slipped from the stool and came to the side of the plane. "Scotty, could I speak to you for a minute?" she asked. Seott pulled himself out of the fuselage. Peggy took his arm and they strolled away from Joe and Patty. 8 "Yve added and subtracted everything ten times," Peggy confided, hopelessly, "but we’ve still only got enough money to buy one motor-not including its propeller." Scott grinned. "Did we borrow back the wages we paid to Joe?" he asked. "Two weeks ago," Peggy reported. **"We---There came the sound of grating footfalls on the cement of the hangar floor. Peggy whirled, shaded her eyes, demanded: "What's that?" Scott stared into the night, too, as if his eyes were playing tricks on him, as a big voice came booming: "Aren’t you goin’ to say hello to us?" Seott looked closer, saw his Uncle Hiram and, behind him, Hank Rinebow. Both carried suitcases, "T’m glad to see you!" Seott exclaimed, rushing forward. ‘"Reckon you'll be gladder in a minnit," Hank said, cryptically. "What brings you out here?" Seott asked. (Continued on next page)

"MEN WITH WINGS" (Continued from previous page.)

"We heard you was in a fix, so we came out to puk some money in your flyin’ machine," Hiram said. "Sold the newspaper. Wasn’t no future in it." "Not the way it was run, anyway,’ amended Hank. "TI think I’m going to kiss somebody," Peggy faltered. "That’s fine!" said Hiram,. the glare he gave Hank dying. He kissed Peggy. And Hank, after considerable coughing to attract attention, got the same privilege. "TIT don’t know just what to say," Scott faltered. Hank began peeling off his coat. "You oughta," he said. "You're boss here. When do we start in?" Hiram pulled Peggy to one side. "Peggy, d’ye mind not tellin’ Scott you got us to put in wtih him?" he asked softly. "Then ll always-ah-sort of be his favourite uncle." Peggy nodded and squeezed his arm. Jue wad Patty were overcome with the excitement of the reunion. "Iii, Patty!" Joe yelled. "What do ya think? We got two angels!"

CHAPTER X. YWAITH new capital and life-blood contributed by Hiram Jenkins and Hank Rinebow,: Scott, Peggy, and Patty found themselves work‘ing with new enthusiasm. Even Joe Gibbs, the mechanic, moved faster as he went about his appointed tasks. But even with the extra effort and the financing, the bomber was not ready for tests by the Army until 1933. Scott flew it proudly to March Field, near Riverside, California, for the tests, which Generai Marlin would supervise. Marlin, scoffing at Scott’s claims for the low-winged monoplane, shining in the bright sunshine, had mse arrangements to test it. with a group of pursuit ships. "You say your ship will do two hundred miles an hour?" Marlin asked, unbelievingly. "That’s forty miles an hour faster than our pursuit ships." Scott nodded. ‘Yes, sir,’ he answered, "and I’m ready to prove it."

He went to the cabin of the monoplane, climbed in. Behind it were the pursuit planes. Peggy looked up at him as he prepared to start the motors. He saw a glint in her eyes. "Pour it to ’em!" she ordered, grimly. "You think I won't?" he asked, grinning. "You'd better!" Patty exclaimed. Peggy glanced from Scott to the ship and then back again at him. She smiied. ; "You know, Scotty, it seems to me that all my life I’ve had my head up, looking at the sky." Seott looked at her searchingly. He said, softly: "You’ve been lecisng at the skyso long that you eyes have siars in them." . Joe interrupted with: "Get them motors turnin’, Boss. Those pursuit guys’re gonna think they’re in captive balloons!" Seott turned, motioned to Hiram. "Come on!" he called. "Get in!" Hiram gulped, drew a long breath, stuck out his chest and, trying not to look afraid, walked over to the ship. Hank's jaw dropped. "There’s no fool like an old

fool!"’ he scoffed, Hiram turned, cast-a scornful look at him. "Well, I’m gonna die in a little while, anyway," he said. "So I might just as well let Scott kill me as hire a bunch of doctors to do it." He got into the plane. Scott smiled as he fastened his safety belt. He started the motors, tested first one and then the other. Joe pulled the chocks from beneath the wheels. Hank waved an uneasy hand at Hiram, who only shook his head, sadly. Scott signalled to the leader of the pursuit group, waved to the excited group of watchers, and then opened his throttles. The ship rolied forward, swiftly gathered momentum, and lifted quickly and gracefully into the air. The motors pounded back on the ears of the spectators. The pursuit planes followed in groups of three, Scott climbed methodically to a couple of thougand feet and then banked around. ‘The pursuit ships banked with him, going into a step formation which seemed to make a giant staircase out of the sky. Then they ad-

vanced while Scott throttled back until they were even with him. Then Scott shoved open his throttle. Hiram looked downhward as he did so, wiped the sweat off his face. At the same time, Scott pullea up the retractable landing gear. The bomber pulled away from the pursuit ships like a racehorse leaving a beer dray. Marlin turned to his staff. "Gentiernen," he said, "you’ve seen the one military aeroplane in the world to-day. it has made every other ship in every other nation obsolete. And it is going to force us'to cancel millio: of dollars in contracts already made. This is the first time that aeroplanes have been made obsolete before they were guilt!" Scott was praised, showered with congratulations. Everyone was excited except Joe Gibbs, who cast an appraising eye over the monoplane he had helped to create. "Veah," he said, calmly, "it’s a pretty fair aeroplane." Immediate surcess followed the first tests. The Army, the Navy, and Marines ordeved the ships in job lots. The old Faiconer factory came to life, expanded, continued to grow. Yet, during the months that passed so swiftly, so eventfully, nothing was heard from Pai Falconer, known only to be somewhere in China. In 1938, five years after production had vot under way, Falconer

executives gaye a banquet. The largest hangar was chosen for the banquet hall. it was guarded, so to speak, by three shining Falconer bombers of the latest type. The tables were arranged in the shape of a horseshoe, with the open end toward the hangar doors. The speakers’ table was at the top of the horseshoe, in the centre. At the conclusion of the meal, Percival Allcott, chairman of the board of directors of the company, rose and called for the attention of the assemblage. On his right sat Scott, Peggy, Patricia and Joe. On his left were General Hadley, the colonel of Scott’s wartime days, Hiram and Hank. Alcott pointed out that the banquet was for the purpose of honouring the pioneers who had made possible the finest military aeroplane in the world. After the thunder of applause had died down he presented Patty and praised her ability as a mechanic, pointing out that she had retired to become a lady; Hiram Jenkins, who acted as financier; Hank, who had always been his right bower, and Joe, who

he said could make two horsepower grow where one had grown before. Each bowed amid the roar of applause and made a _ short speech, Hank puncturing Hiram’s small vanity with: "Hiram’s newspaper wasn’t very good, anyhow, it might’ve been if it had been run right. But it wasn’t! 1 was glad to get out of it and into a business where if you make a mistake they bury you. When the laughter had died, Alcoit said, gravely: "The honour of presenting the leader of this group-the man from whose brain, courage and ability the Falconer bomber originatesdoes not belong to me. But we have with us a man who is a memper of that inner circle, a real airman, aerial godiather, so to speak, of Scott Barnes. To him I surrender the honour of this introduc tion." He indicated Generali Hadley. Hadley rose, leaned on his cane. The yoices carried beyond the hangar, out into the field, lined by the newer, bigger factory buildings, caught the ears of a limping manan oider, more tired, somehow rather quiet and pitiful Pat Falconer. Pat Falconer, coming home, went to the doors of the hangar, stared in, wonderingly, as the song died. He pushed through the crowd at the entrance, stood behind a policeman and a waiter, saw Peggy and Patiy, and suddenly grew rigid. Hadiey’s strong voice came tlearly to Pat.

"Mr. Alcoti, ladies and gentiemen, you are here to celebrate the fifth anniversary of the Falconer bomber," he said. "I am here to celebrate the nineteenth anniversary of my confidence in a man who knew how to grow his own wings. I think the ships standiag behind me to-night prove that I was right. While such men as he are with us we need not fear for the future. The day of the other kind of flyer-the man who flew by instinct-who flew by ‘the seat of his pants’-is over. Pat winced when he heard this. Hadley continued: "Once that kind of flyer helped the conquest of the air-but now he can only hinder it. The new day in flying opens to the scientist, the builder, the man with instruments. Every week, every month, every year-we are going faster, farther, higher! And all this progress springs from the dreams and sweat and heartbreak of such men as the fieutenant 1 once thought of court-martialling-Scott Barnes!"

Scott rose amid the wave oO hand-clapping. Pat saw Peggy reach out quickly, press his hand encouragingly. "General Hadley, ladies and gentlemen, you don’t answer a majorgeneral back, ever," he began. "Sa I can only say, ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir" from my heart." He smiled down tenderly at Peggy. Pat saw that smiie. "And now 1 want to introduce the pioneer of ws all She looks much too young-and beautifulfor such an introduction, but long before any of us flew she was up in the air-in pigtails-in a kitetesting the first product of Falconer Acroplanes, Inc, May I proudly present Mrs. Patrick Falconer!" Peggy rose, her eyes shining with tears. She touched Seott’s hand again for an instant, and Pat once. more caught the gesture. He saw her look beyond the hangar, beyond hib, into the stars. She said, slowly: . "There’s one man who isnt | here to-night-the most import ; ant man of all-the man who founded this plant and whose name it bears-the man who put his fortune in it-and jost everything. The man who gave us our chance-Patrick Falconer." Pat choked, leaned forward, a3 if to go to Peggy and claim her. "Tf he were here to-night--’ Peggy faltered. Pat checked himself. His face mirrored the struggle which was going on within him. Peggy’s head was held proudly high and her eyes were filled with tears as she added: "T think he’d be as proud of us -as we are of him-and that’s the highest tribute that could ever be paid." She paused. "Thank you," she choked. Her voice died away. She sank down quickly. For a moment there was dead silence. Then came the applause, louder and greater than before. For an instant Pat stared at the banquet scene as if to photograph it forever in his memory. Then he turned, pushed his way blindly through the dense crowd, out of the hangar. He hobbled into the night. There was tragic renunciation in his face, and his eyes were wide and haunted. He speeded his pace, as if he knew that should he pause he would re-main-when he must become a memory. A moment later he was being swallowed by the shadows, a pitiful figure, hobbling fleeing from life. (THE END.)