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Celebrations for centenary of pioneering flight
By Pete Castle and Martin CreasySeptember 24, 2008
Next month sees the anniversary of a seminal moment in the history of aviation.
On October 16, it will be 100 years ago to the day that flying pioneer Samuel Franklin Cody flew his British Army Aeroplane Number 1A a distance of 1,390 feet, at a height of 40 feet, across Farnborough Common.
A full century later, and the location of his first flight is now at the heart of the British aviation industry. To the north is Qinetiq, the now fully-privatised successor to the Royal Aircraft Factory, the establishment Cody helped to create. On the common itself is TAG Farnborough Airport.
But while the industry is ploughing into the future, next month will see events designed to remind us of the landmark event at the beginning of this area’s association with the skies (see panel right).
As for Cody’s first flight, it lasted just 27 seconds at a speed of 25-30mph. The aircraft travelled 1,390 feet and landed, a quarter of a mile later, unceremoniously, in a crumpled heap of metal, wood and fabric. A wing had touched the ground as the pilot attempted to turn against the wind, and so ended the first powered flight in Britain.
As next month’s celebrations attest, Cody’s aviation achievements are beyond question, but not much else is known about the American-born father of British aviation.
We can be certain of precious little about his early life, not least due to his own habit of embellishment. He was born plain Franklin Cowdery in Davenport, Iowa, in 1867, apparently enjoying an action-packed childhood, learning how to ride, shoot, use a lasso and even to hunt buffalo.
So enamoured was the young man with the life of a cowboy that he went on to join the famous Alaskan Gold Rush, before repeating tales of his own heroics many times in a series of wild west shows.
Along the way he paid tribute to Wild West icon Buffalo Bill (William Cody) by changing his name. Apart from being a showman, Cody was a playwright, and it was the money he made from this talent that allowed him to indulge himself in a new passion — flying.
Initially, this involved kite flying around 1890 when he became involved with experiments for the US government.
By the time Cody had come to Britain in 1896 his attention had turned to man-lifting kites. By 1903 the great man was crossing the English Channel in a canvas canoe towed by a large kite and it was this feat that grabbed the attention of the British Admiralty.
They were impressed that Cody’s achievement had improved on previous efforts due to him adding wings for lift.
The Army was impressed too. They gave Cody the grand title of Chief Kiting Instructor at the Balloon School in Farnborough and he set up two kite sections of the Royal Engineers.
Progress into powered aircraft was swift. A few experiments and trial runs later and Cody had paved the way to becoming the first British aviator with that historic flight in October 1908.
Then he moved on to the large biplane with his Flying Cathedral.
The pioneer aviator had more to him than initiative and bravery. He had another quality that endeared him to his new British family — humour.
Fellow aviator Sir Aliot Verdon-Roe — founder of the Avro aircraft company — recalled drawing Cody’s attention to a cable and asked what would happen if it snapped at 1,000 feet. “Oh, my name would be mud,” came the swift reply.
Cody continued his work too, from Laffan’s Plain, until his untimely death, aged 46, on August 7 1913 in an air crash.
He died along with his passenger, cricketer W H B Evans, when Cody’s plane broke up over Ball Hill at Cove Common.
King George V expressed his “profound regret” and Cody’s funeral, with the highest military honours, was held on August 11 1913 in Aldershot.
He was a hugely popular figure. Up to 100,000 people are said to have lined the route as the coffin passed by on a gun carriage.
There were theories of spies and sabotage causing the death of Cody, and the inquest never reached a final verdict.
The Royal Aero Club came to a less dramatic conclusion — a structural weakness in the aircraft had caused the wings to break up — but doubts remained.
His death, as his early life, is shrouded in mystery, but his achievements in British aviation and British history are set in stone.
Click the related article link to find out about the events planned for this historic event.
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