20 March 1935: At Farmingdale, New York, test pilot James H. (“Jimmy”) Collins took the Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation’s prototype XF3F-1, Bu. No. 9727, for its first flight. Collins made three flights that day.
[According to serial number authority, Joe Baugher, three XF3F-1 prototypes had the same manufacturer’s serial number, 257, and the same U.S. Navy Bureau of Aeronautics serial number, 9727. Two of them were destroyed during flight testing.]
The XF3F-1 was a prototype fighter built for the United States Navy. It was a single-place, single-bay, wire-braced biplane with retractable landing gear. The airplane was of all metal construction. It was a development of the F2F, then in production.
Collins had performed nine dive tests of the XF3F-1. He began the tenth and final test at 6:05 p.m., 22 May 1935. After climbing to 20,000 feet (6,096 meters), he put the biplane into a full power, vertical dive. At a speed of 400 miles per hour (644 kilometers per hour), he pulled out of the dive at 8,000 feet (2,438 meters) but the airplane’s propeller and wings were torn off. An accelerometer indicated that the airplane had sustained a force of 14 gs. The airplane crashed into the Pinelawn Cemetery.
Witnesses at the scene (which included Collins’ sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Collins Joyhard) said that Collins was still alive when he was pulled from the wreckage. He is reported to have said, “Pull me out boys. I’m all through. Never mind wiping my face, I’m done.” ¹
For these tests, he was to have been paid $1,500. On his last day, he had told friends that he planned to stop flying and pursue a career as an aviation writer.
The XF3F-1 used the same engine as the production F2F-1: An air-cooled, supercharged 1,534.94 cubic inch (25.15 liter) Pratt & Whitney S1A2 Twin Wasp Jr. (R-1535-72) two-row, 14-cylinder radial. This was a direct drive engine with a compression ratio of 6.75:1 requiring 87-octane gasoline. The supercharger impeller ratio was 12:1. The R-1535-72 was rated at 650 horsepower (485 kilowatts) at 2,200 r.p.m. at 7,500 feet (2,286 meters), and 700 horsepower (522 kilowatts) at 2,250 r.p.m. for takeoff.
The production F3F-2 was 23 feet, 2 inches (7.061 meters) long with a wingspan of 32 feet (9.754 meters) and height of 9 feet, 4 inches (2.845 meters). The total wing area was 260 square feet (25.16 square meters). It had an empty weight of 3,285 pounds ( 1,490 kilograms), and maximum takeoff weight of 4,795 pounds (2,175 kilograms). Unlike the XF3F-1, the F3F-2 was powered by a Wright R-1820-22 rated at 950 horsepower. It had a maximum speed of 264 miles per hour (425 kilometers per hour) at 15,000 feet (4,572 meters), Its maximum rate of climb was 2,750 feet per minuted (14 meters per second), and the service ceiling was 33,200 feet (10,119 meters). It had a range of 980 miles (1,577 kilometers). The F3F-2 was armed by a .30-caliber Browning M1919 machine gun with 500 rounds of ammunition, and a .50-caliber Browning M2 machine gun with 200 rounds.
In August 1935 the U.S. Navy contracted for 54 F3F-1s. The first one was delivered 29 January 1936. A total of 147 F3Fs were built between 1935 and 1938. The F3F was the U.S. Navy’s last biplane fighter. The type was retired in 1943.
James H. Collins was born 25 April 1904, the second child of John Collins, an Irish immigrant to the United States, and Ella E. Ray Collins. His father died when Jimmy was four years old, and his mother, when he was 11. He then lived with an aunt and uncle.
Collins attended Central High School, Akron, Ohio, and worked nights at the B.F. Goodrich rubber factory. After graduating, he enrolled at the University of Akron. He was a member of the Lambda Delta Chi (ΛΔΧ) fraternity.
In 1924, Collins entered the U.S. Army Air Service Primary Flying School at Brooks Field, San Antonio, Texas, and then went on to the Advanced Flying School at Kelly Field, also in San Antonio. He was in the same class as Charles A. Lindbergh. After graduating, he was commissioned a second lieutenant in the New York National Guard, and assigned to the 102nd Observation Squadron, 27th Division Air Service, at Miller Field, Staten Island, New York.
During the Great Depression, Collins’ service with the New York National Guard did not provide full time employment. He had to work at other jobs, which included returning to B.F. Goodrich. In 1925, he briefly returned to the University of Akron, then volunteered for six months active duty with the 94th Pursuit Squadron at Selfridge Field, Harrison, Michigan. He served as assistant engineering and operations officer. He was then commissioned as a lieutenant in the regular Air Service, United States Army. He was assigned as an instructor at March Field, near Riverside, California and back at Brooks Field.
Unable to complete a formal university degree, Collins decided to gain the equivalent of a liberal arts degree through self study. It was around this time that he became a communist. He considered emigrating to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.
In 1927, Lieutenant Collins resigned his commission. He then worked as an inspector for the Department of Commerce, the federal agency overseeing civil aviation in the United States. That was followed by employment as chief test pilot for the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company, Hammondsport, New York.
In 1932, Jimmy Collins married Miss Dolores Lacy. They would have two children, Darr, named after a friend of Jimmy’s, and Susan Ann Collins. With the depression ongoing, Collins often lived away from his family, having sent them to live with his older sister in Oklahoma. By doing dive tests, he had hoped to earn enough money to bring them back to New York.
James H. Collins’ remains were cremated at the Fairfield Mortuary, Garden City, New York, then spread from an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean off Jones Beach at 6:05 p.m., 29 March 1935.
Jimmy Collins was the author of Test Pilot, published after his death by The Sun Dial Press, Garden City, New York.
13 March 1928: At Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, Miss Eileen M. Vollick passed her flight test in a Curtiss JN-4 Canuck, and was issued license number 77. She was the first woman licensed as a pilot in Canada.
The following is an article written by Eileen Vollick, prior to her death in 1968 (photographs are from various other sources):
Owen Sound Sun Times
How I became Canada’s first licensed woman pilot EILEEN M. VOLLICK Wednesday, August 6, 2008 10:38:00 EDT AM
“Opportunity” was calling in a thousand forms, in a new and thrilling and expanding industry- viz-commercial aviation, and I felt the urge to fly, to become a pioneer and blaze the trail for the women of my country.
Early in March, 1927, Jack V. Elliot, pioneer of commercial aviation in Canada, opened his school and clubhouse at a place called Ghent’s Crossing, overlooking Hamilton Bay. The story of that flying school and clubhouse, the first of its kind in the Dominion, will be handed down to posterity, not only on account of its pioneer proprietor, but for the reason that in the pages of Canadian Aeronautical history will be found the names of young men and incidentally one woman, whose vocations were founded on faith and the future destiny of aviation in our country’s commercial life.
My home at that time was on the Beach, and from my bedroom window I could see the activities going at the aerodrome, the cutting down of trees, the dumping of load after load of cinders, to make the track or runway, the building of the hangars, and finally the installing of the planes. Each day as I drove my car past the aerodrome a small still voice whispered “Go ahead, brave the lion in his den and make known your proposition to him.”
I proposed to learn to fly, and fearful of being turned down or laughed at (women had not then entered into this man’s game in Canada.) I hesitated, wondering how much courage or talent was required to fly an airplane. I have never been afraid to go after anything I wanted and to stay until I got it, so, as “the whispering voices”ne day I ventured into the proprietor’s den, and asked him: — “Can a girl learn to fly.” He simply smiled, thinking doubtless I was looking for a thrill, but I soon convinced him I was in earnest, and later I met the Controller of Civil Aviation, Flt. Lieut. A. T. Cowley of Ottawa, who advised me to write the Government for permission to learn to fly commercially, no woman in Canada had previously made such application, and Mr. Elliot was doubtful of my success. However, on June 14th, 1927, I was advised from Ottawa that the matter had been fully considered and in future certificates would be granted to women providing they passed the necessary tests and had reached the age of 19 years, and though it was through my efforts women were admitted into the flying game at Ottawa, had I not been first, some other enterprising girl would have paved the way to put Canadian women on a par with other countries.
I was only 18 years old at that time and could not qualify but with the official benediction over my head I made arrangements with Mr. Elliot and became an ardent disciple of his school.
The instruction planes at the Elliot Air Service have a dual control and by means of specially constructed earphones on the helmet the pilot gives his instructions to the student flyer.
My first flight in the air was an epoch of my life never to be forgotten, no matter what I may achieve in the future the exhilaration of that flight will linger when all others are merely an event.
The pilot who took me aloft thought he would either frighten me or find out how much courage I possessed, for though it is against the rules to “stunt” with a passenger, it is of great value for a student and anecessary adjunctive. By “stunts” I mean “spins,” “loops,” “zooms,” all very thrilling and decidedly the acid test for a new flyer, and I got mine for half an hour, satisfying my instructor as to my flying ability.
DESCRIPTION OF MISS VOLLICK’S FIRST FLIGHT
“As I sat in the cockpit I felt quite at home, fear never entered my head and when I saw the earth recede as the winged monster roared and soared skyward, and the familiar scenes below became a vast panorama of checker- boarded fields, neatly arranged toy houses, and silvery threads of streams, the pure joy of it, gave me a thrill which is known only to the air-man who wings his way among the fleecy clouds. Perhaps the most trying sensation of a flight comes at the close, when the plane glides rapidly earthward and one feels that familiar “elevator” feeling but even that sensitiveness passes away after a few flights. A spin or a loop, though significantly spectacular from below, is a simple stunt to the aeronaut and easy to accomplish. In flying the most important factors are “taking off” and “landing.” Anyone can fly straight and keep towards the horizon, but rising from the ground and returning, is a different matter. These two factors are important tests when the government inspector examines a pilot for his or her license.”
Aviation always had a fascination for me even before I realized what a great thing had been accomplished when a motor driven vehicle could be propelled at great speed through the air, and when I actually became an active member in the field my enthusiasm knew no bounds.
I would like to write here, that, when I entered the school of aeronauts I mixed exclusively with men, no other girl or woman attended the lectures, entered the hangars or worked around the planes but myself, and from the first day when I became a student with the cadets, to the time I received my pilot’s license on March 13, 1928, there was not a man amongst them who failed to remember my sex, nor one who spoke a disrespectful word to me, yet at the same time I was one of them, joined in their discussions, donned overalls and often looked more grimy and greasy than the rest. Truly the air-men are gentlemen. Their ambitions were my ambitions, their success was my success, and each one was as eager as the other to help me in any difficulty, I had confidence in them which was never misplaced, and in the years to come when aeronautics are intelligently understood and acknowledged by the world at large, and I am only one amongst thousands of my sex who are trained flyers, my thoughts will revert to the days when I was a student flyer, and I can say then, with all my heart, “happy days, loyal friends.”
I must mention my first instructor Pilot Earl Jellison, under whose guidance I stored away knowledge which later proved invaluable. Writing from Vancouver where he was stationed Pilot Jellison sent congratulations on my success and wrote as follows: “I was very pleased with your ability last summer, and I think you know something of the confidence I had in you when you walked out on the wing to do your famous ‘parachute jump’ into Hamilton Bay.” This incident happened soon after I started to fly, and it takes a great deal of confidence to walk the wing of an airplane and jump into space, especially when the controls are in the hands of a strange pilot, but I felt no fear and evidently he felt none. A flyer must never make acquaintance with “fear” if he or she wants to become a successful pilot. I have never felt afraid, flying high or low, over land or water, and though I began my flying lessons in summer it was off the ice on Hamilton Bay that I took my solo flight, and passed the government tests. As a proof that my sense of “fear” is small, when I took the parachute jump from the wing of the plane into the waters of Hamilton Bay, from an altitude of 2,800 feet, it was a record, being the first Canadian girl to leap from a plane into water. Parachute work, however, was not my ambition. I wanted to fly.
The summer months passed too quickly. October came, and flying days were drawing to a close at the airport. Soon, the family of cadets would move from the Beach to the city . . . The first week of the New Year saw me down at the winter quarters, situated at the extreme end of Hamilton Bay, in the north section of the city. And I began the most strenuous hard work I have done during the nineteen years of my life.
The oracle of “early morning flying” is an open sesame if the student-flyer wants to become a real success, and after several flights off the ice on Hamilton Bay, I made arrangements with my instructor Pilot Richard Turner, to fly as early as possible.
This necessitated some of the mechanical crew being down at the airport long before the sun rose in the horizon to fuel the plane and warm up the motor ready for flight. It is said that an aviator or aviatrix must be ready at all times day or night whenever a call comes, and this creed is thoroughly instilled into the minds of each student. So up in the morning early, long before the streets were warmed I left my cozy cot, drove my faithful old Ford down to the airport, donned a flying-suit and with the tang of ice and frost upon pilot, plane and student, we rose from the hardened ground, and winged our way over the icy Bay, across the cold waters of Lake Ontario, back to the city, then after “landing” and “rising” several times, we flew back to port, full of early morning pep, which the sluggard abed can never fully comprehend. Once more aboard my car and back home to breakfast. Eight a. m. found me on my way to the Hamilton Cotton Co., where I was textile analyst and an assistant designer.
Flying is, and always will be, my uppermost thought, yet I never neglected my duties at the office, and when Alan V. Young, President of the Cotton Co. gave me leave of absence to try my examination tests, the time off had been well earned.
Flying in the air is not the only qualification for a pilot, he or she must have a theoretical as well as a mechanical knowledge of aircraft. Lectures for students are given three times weekly at night and students must attend regularly or lose some important part of their training. I never missed a lecture, in fact when the Aero-Club of Hamilton started their lectures at the Technical School, I made a point to attend both. I was out for knowledge on aircraft. Performance is the supreme test, and the time was drawing close when I had to prove my worth or fall down in my tracks. I was ready for a cross-country flight, which is one of the government requirements. Tuesday, February 28th, was a bright, clear, cold day, ideal flying weather, and I was bound on a glorious adventure, my cross-country test flight. Accompanied by Pilot R. Turner, we left Hamilton early in the morning, arrived at St. Thomas; landed safely at McManus Field, refuelled the plane and took off for Hamilton, completing the round trip in 2 hours and 25 minutes. After more landings, a lesson or two on the use of skiis . . . and the eventful day finished.
The government inspector had arrived and the cadets waited anxiously. Before a license can be issued, the pilot must make four landings, from a height of 1,500 feet, within 150 feet of a spot designated on the ground, one landing from 5,000 feet with the motor shut off, five figure 8 (eight) turns between two designated marks, and a 175-miles cross-country flight. The day previous to the tests I had the extreme pleasure of taking Captain G. B. Holmes, Government Inspector, for a flight, and he gave me great credit for the able manner in which I handled the plane. On March 13, 1928, (lucky day for me) along with ten other cadets of the Elliot Flying School, I successfully passed the Government Civil Aviation examination, making three three-point landings on the ice with skiis, in place of wheels, to the utmost satisfaction of Captain Holmes, and the hearty congratulations of my instructors, and fellow students.
They give credit, these loyal air-men, for having an iron nerve, and skill of an old war time pilot, “nerve” is a natural gift from God. “Skill,” I owe to my instructors, I have had three of whom I cannot speak too highly, Pilots Earl Jellison, Lennard Tripp, and Richard Turner whose invaluable assiduous instruction and help, enabled me to earn the proud title of “Canada’s First Licensed Woman Pilot” and made my dreams come true.
Mary Eileen Vane Riley ¹ was born 2 August 1908 at Wiarton, Ontario, Dominion of Canada. She was the daughter of James Henry Riley, a laborer, and Marie Baynes Riley. Mr. Riley was killed in an accident in 1911. Mrs. Riley then married George Vollick. Miss Riley was known by her stepfather’s family name. She would have three step-siblings.
Eileen Vollick attended St. Patrick’s High School in Hamilton, Ontario, then worked as a materials analyst for the Hamilton Cotton Company.
Miss Vollick was 5 feet, 0 inches (1.52 meters) tall with brown hair and eyes, and a medium complexion.
On 28 September 1929, Miss Vollick married James Hopkin, a steamfitter who had been born in Scotland. The Hopkins moved to Elmhurst, Long Island, New York. They would have two daughters, Eileen and Audrey.
Eileen Vollick, as she is best known, died in 1968. She was buried at the Woodlawn Cemetery, Bronx, New York.
¹ Also known as Reilly. She used that version of the surname on an immigration document as she entered the United States the day following her marriage. She also stated that she was unaccompanied; marked “S.”, indicating that she was single (unmarried); and listed her new husband as a “friend” whom she planned to visit in Elmhurst, Long Island, New York.
13 November 1926: The 1926 race for the Coupe d’Aviation Maritime Jacques Schneider (the Schneider Trophy) was held at Hampton Roads, a large natural harbor between southeastern Virginia and northeastern North Carolina, two states on the Atlantic coast of the United States. There were an estimated 30,000 spectators. The race consisted of seven laps of a 50 kilometer (31 miles) triangular course.
The location of each race went to the country whose national team had won the previous year. Lieutenant James H. Doolittle, Air Service, United States Army, had won the 26 October 1925 race at Baltimore, Maryland, flying a Curtiss R3C-2 to an average speed of 232.57 miles per hour (374.29 kilometers per hour).
The 1926 Schneider Race included three Italian and three American airplanes. The British team’s aircraft were not ready so they did not compete.
All three Regia Aeronautica pilots, Major Mario de Bernardi, Captain Arturo Ferrarin, and Lieutenant Adriano Bacula, flew Macchi M.39 seaplanes, powered by the Fiat AS.2 V-12 engine.
The American team used three different Curtiss biplanes, each with a different Curtiss V-12 engine. 1st Lieutenant Christian Frank Schilt, United States Marine Corps, flew a Curtiss R3C-2, serial number A.7054, carrying race number 6. Schilt’s airplane was powered by a Curtiss V-1400. Lieutenant William Gosnell Tomlinson, U.S. Navy, flew a Curtiss F6C-3 Hawk, A.7128, with race number 2. This airplane was equipped with a Curtiss D-12A. Lieutenant George T. Cuddihy, U.S. Navy, flew a Curtiss R3C-4, A.6979, with race number 4, with a Curtiss V-1550.
The race was delayed for two days because of adverse weather conditions. The race began at 2:35 p.m. on Saturday afternoon, with the first of three Italian racers entering the course. Airplanes departed at intervals to avoid coming too close to each other while flying the course.
De Bernardi finished the seven laps in 52 minutes, 56.22 seconds, averaging 246.496 miles per hour (396.697 kilometers per hour). Schilt finished in second place in 56 minutes, 23.96 seconds, at 231.364 miles per hour (372.344 kilometers per hour). Bacula was third at 59 minutes, 51.31 seconds, at 218.006 miles per hour (350.847 kilometers per hour). Fourth place went to Tomlinson, completing the course in 1 hour, 35 minutes, 16.72 seconds, at 136.954 miles per hour (220.406 kilometers per hour). Ferrarin’s airplane had an oil line break and he made a precautionary landing at the end of his fourth lap. A fuel pump on Cuddihy’s airplane failed, and his engine stopped. He touched down short of the finish line on his seventh and final lap.
The Macchi M.39 racing float plane was designed by Mario Castoldi. It is a single engine, single-place, low-wing monoplane with two pontoons, or floats. The wing is externally braced, has 0° dihedral, and incorporates surface radiators. The M.39 is 6.473 meters (22 feet, 2.8 inches) long with a wingspan of 9.26 meters (30 feet, 4.6 inches) and height of 3.06 meters (10 feet, 0.5 inches). The empty weight of the Schneider Trophy racer is 1,300 kilograms (2,866 pounds) and its maximum gross weight is 1,615 kilograms (3,560 pounds).
The M.39 is powered by a water-cooled, normally-aspirated, 31.403 liter (1,916.329 cubic inch) Fiat AS.2 DOHC 60° V-12 direct-drive engine with a compression ratio of 6:1. It used three carburetors and two magnetos, and produced 882 horsepower at 2,500 r.p.m. The engine drove a two-bladed, fixed-pitch metal propeller designed by Dr. Sylvanus A. Reed. The AS.2 engine was designed by Tranquillo Zerbi, based on the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company’s D-12 engine. The engine was 1.864 meters (6 feet, 1.4 inches) long, 0.720 meters (2 feet, 4.4 inches) wide and 0.948 meters (3 feet, 1.3 inches) high. It weighed 412 kilograms (908 pounds).
The Macchi M.39 could reach 420 kilometers per hour (261 miles per hour).
Macchi M.39 MM.76 is in the collection of the Aeronautica Militare museum.
Mario de Bernardi served in the Italian Army during the Italo-Turkish War, 1911–1912, and became a pilot during World War I. He rose to the rank of colonel in the Regia Aeronautica. He set several world aviation records and continued his work as a test pilot. He died in 1959 at the age of 65 years.
Adriano Bacula also set several world records. He was killed in an airplane crash in Slovenia, 18 April 1938.
Arturo Ferrarin, another world record holder, was killed while testing an experimental airplane, 18 July 1941.
Christian Frank Schilt enlisted as a private in the U.S. Marine Corps in 1917. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions in Nicaragua, 6–8 January 1928. During World War II, Schilt served as Commander, Marine Air Group 11 during the Solomons Campaign, and later went on to command Aircraft, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific. He retired from the Marine Corps with the rank of General in 1957, and died in 1987 at the age of 91 years.
William Gosnell Tomlinson was a 1919 graduate of the United States Naval Academy. During his career in the U.S. Navy, he commanded the aircraft carrier USS Belleau Wood (CVL-24), Carrier Division 3, USS Boxer (CVA-21), USS Bon Homme Richard (CVA-31) and served as Commander, Task Force 77 (CTF 77) during the Korean War. During World War II, Tomlinson was awarded the Navy Cross, and twice, the Legion of Merit with Combat “V”. He retired in 1953 as a Vice Admiral, and died in 1972 at the age of 75 years.
George T. Cuddihy was a 1918 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy. he was the Navy’s chief test pilot. He was killed while testing a Bristol Type 105 Bulldog II fighter, Bu. No. A8485 (c/n 7358) at Anacostia Naval Air Station, 25 November 1929.
14–22 August 1932: Over an eight-day period, Iris Louise McPhetridge Thaden and Frances E. Carter Harrell Marsalis flew a Curtiss Thrush J, NR9142, over the Curtiss Airport ¹ at Valley Stream, New York. Their flight set a Fédération Aéronautique Internationale (FAI) World Record for Duration of 196 hours, 5 minutes. ²
The pair took off at 1:00 p.m., Sunday, 14 August, and did not land until 5:06 p.m., Monday, 22 August. Newspaper reports at the time were that the total duration was 196 hours, 5 minutes “and four-fifths seconds.”
Their flight was supported by air-to-air refueling. A Curtiss Robin C-1, NR82H, flown by Stewart Reiss and John Runger, acted as the tanker. Seventy-eight in-flight refuelings were required to keep the Thrush airborne.
The “two 24-year-old housewives” were sponsored by the I.J. Fox store on 5th Avenue, New York City, which was owned by philanthropist Isidore Joseph Fox, “America’s Largest Furrier.” Mrs. Fox was an aviation enthusiast who often attended races and other events, and provided prizes. The Thrush had “I.J. FOX” boldly painted on each side of its fuselage, with a smaller name and the company’s fox head logo on the forward doors.
NR9142 was the first protototype Curtiss Thrush, s/n G-3. It was initially registered NX9142. In preparation for the endurance flight, the interior had been stripped of the passengers seats and carpet. A 150 gallon (568 liters) auxiliary fuel tank was installed.
The Curtiss Thrush was a single-engine six-place high-wing cabin monoplane with fixed landing gear. It was 32 feet, 7 inches (9.931 meters) long with a wingspan of 48 feet, 0 inches (14.630 meters) and overall height of 9 feet, 3 inches (2.819 meters). The wing had a chord of 7 feet, 0 inches (2.134 meters). The airplane’s empty weight was 2,260 pounds (1,025 kilograms), and its gross weight was 3,800 pounds (1,724 kilograms).
The Curtiss Thrush was initially powered by an air-cooled, normally-aspirated, 603.397 cubic-inch-displacement (9.888 liters) Curtiss Challenger R600–6, two-row, 6-cylinder radial engine with a compression ratio of 5.2:1. The engine was rated at 185 horsepower at 2,000 r.p.m. with 65-octane gasoline. The direct-drive engine turned a Curtiss-Reed fixed-pitch propeller, and later, a Turnbull variable-pitch propeller. The R600-6 was 42.63 inches (1.083 meters) long, 41.75 inches (1.060 meters) in diameter, and weighed 445 pounds (202 kilograms).
During flight testing, the Challenger-powered Thrush was disappointingly underpowered. The Curtiss engine was replaced with a Wright J6E Whirlwind, and the airplane designated Thrush J. The J6E, or Wright R-760E Whirlwind 250, was an air-cooled, supercharged, 755.95 cubic inch (12.39 liters) seven-cylinder radial engine with a compression ratio of 5.1:1. It was rated at 250 horsepower at 2,000 r.p.m. at Sea Level for takeoff (1-minute limit) and required 73-octane gasoline. This was also a direct-drive engine. The R-760E weighed 530 pounds (240 kilograms)
The Curtiss Thrush J had a cruise speed of 104 miles per hour (167 kilometers per hour) and maximum speed of 122 miles per hour (196 kilometers per hour). Its service ceiling was 13,200 feet (4,023 meters) and it had a range of 900 miles (1,448 kilometers).
7 August 1919: Captain Ernest Charles Hoy, DFC, a World War I fighter pilot credited with 13 aerial victories, became the first pilot to fly across the Canadian Rockies when he flew from Richmond, British Columbia, to Calgary, Alberta, carrying the mail for the Post Office Department.
Foy’s airplane was a single-engine Canadian Aeroplanes Ltd.-built JN-4 “Canuck” two-bay biplane, an independent derivative of the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company JN-3 “Jenny,” to the specifications of the Royal Flying Corps. The Canuck had ailerons on upper and lower wings, giving it better roll response than the original Curtiss JN-4. The Canuck was 27 feet, 2½ inches (8.293 meters) long, with an upper wingspan of 43 feet, 7-3/8 inches (13.294 meters) and lower span of 34 feet, 8 inches ( meters). The height was 9 feet, 11 inches (3.023 meters). The empty weight was 1,390 pounds (630 kilograms) and gross weight was 1,930 pounds (875 kilograms).
The Canuck was powered by a water-cooled, normally-aspirated 502.655-cubic-inch-displacement (8.237 liters) Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company OX-5 90° V-8 engine with a compression ratio of 4.9:1. This was a direct-drive engine which produced 90 horsepower at 1,400 r.p.m. and turned a two-bladed, fixed-pitch propeller. The OX-5 was 4 feet, 8.75 inches (1.442 meters) long, 2 feet, 5.75 inches (0.756 meters) wide and 3 feet, 0.75 inches (0.932 meters) high. It weighed 390 pounds (177 kilograms).
The Canuck had a cruise speed of 60 miles per hour (97 kilometers per hour) and maximum speed of 74 miles per hour (119 kilometers per hour). Its service ceiling was 11,000 feet (3,353 meters). The standard airplane had a range of 155 miles (249 kilometers). Captain Hoy had an additional 12 gallon (45 liters) fuel tank installed in the airplane’s forward cockpit.
Two Canadian newspapers had agreed to offer a cash prize to the first person to make this flight. Captain Hoy was sponsored by the Aerial League of Canada, which purchased the airplane. Supposedly, Hoy was selected to make the flight by winning a coin toss with another pilot.
Captain Hoy took off from Minoru Park in Richmond at 4:13 a.m., carrying 45 specially marked letters and several special editions of the Vancouver Daily World. He made several fuel stops enroute, flew through several mountain passes and finally landed at Bowness Park in Calgary at 8:55 p.m. His flight took 16 hours, 42 minutes.
Ernest Charles Hoy was born at Dauphin, Manitoba, 6 May 1895, the son of Charles and Eliza Lavinia Kitchener Hoy.
Ernest Charles Hoy was 5 feet, 9½ inches (1.765 meters) tall, and weighed 165 pounds (75 kilograms). He had black hair and brown eyes. Hoy enlisted as a private in the 102nd Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force, 3 March 1915. The unit arrived in France, 12 August 1916, and fought as part of the 11th Infantry Brigade, 4th Canadian Division. He was transferred to the 3rd Pioneer Battalion, Canadian Engineers. After contracting a serious illness, Private Hoy was sent back to England to recuperate. While there, he volunteered for the Royal Flying Corps. He was trained as a pilot and assigned to No. 29 Squadron.
Between 12 August and 27 September 1918, Lieutenant Hoy shot down 13 enemy aircraft (including two balloons) with his Royal Aircraft Factory S.E.5a fighter. After his fourth, Hoy was recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross. His citation in The London Gazette reads,
Lieut. (A/Capt.) Ernest Charles Hoy. (FRANCE)
A bold and skillful airman who has accounted for four enemy machines and shot down a balloon in flames, displaying at all times a fine fighting spirit, disregarding adverse odds.
—The London Gazette, 3 December 1918, Supplement 31046, Page 14322 at Column 2.
On 26 September 1918, Captain Hoy was shot down by an enemy pilot. He was captured and held as a prisoner of war until the Armistice.
On 12 July 1922, Captain Hoy married Miss Marjorie Day at Vancouver, British Columbia. They emigrated to the United States in 1924 and resided in Newark, New Jersey. They had two children, Ross Kitchener Hoy, born in 1926, and Jane Elizabeth Hoy, born in 1930.
Captain Hoy became a naturalized citizen of the United States of America on 6 July 1939. He worked as a branch manager for an insurance company.
Captain Ernest Charles Hoy died at Toccoa, Georgia, 22 April 1982, just short of his 87th birthday.