Sunday, October 27, 2024

Old Obscure Versifier Contemplates Two Great Young Dead Poets

 

Dylan Thomas in a characteristic pose before a bookstore reading.

Some years ago, I noticed that Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath shared a birthday, October 27—1914 in Wales for him, 1932 in Boston for her.  They had little in common except that they wrote poetry—although poetry very different in form, theme, style, and substance—and died young each in a kind of pitiful squalor.  Each had crossed the ocean and passed in the other’s country, a nice cosmic balance.

That year—2011—their common birthday also coincided with a new moon and where I was, at least, a howling storm of darkness.  

Sylvia Plath in a similar venue battling her invisible demons.

You know me.  I am a sucker for cosmic coincidence.  So, I scribbled a poem for the occasion.

Writing poetry about poets, both infinitely more gifted than I, is an act of terminal hubris for which I shall be justly punished.  But here it is anyway.


How Black the Night

 October 26, 2011—New Moon, Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath

 Even the New Moon hides behind the howling clouds. 

Happy Birthday Dylan—

Why did you not

            rage, rage against the dying of the light

            in that pool of your own black vomit

            at the Chelsea?

 

Happy Birthday Sylvia—

The same year, you dewy goddess,

            you emptied the medicine vials

            and crawled under your mother’s porch.

 

Not ships passing in the night,

                    but traversing the same black ocean

                    away from home

                    to something else.

 

Did you find what you were looking for

                    in worship and whiskey,

                    in broken love and madness?

 

As Dylan moldered under Laugharne,

                    Lady Lazarus, you wrote.

                   Dying

   Is an art, like everything else.

   I do it exceptionally well.

 

But laying your head in an oven

             is no art

             and posthumous poems

             no resurrection.

 

How black the night, dead poets,

                    how black the night?

 

          —Patrick Murfin


Saturday, October 26, 2024

Igor Sikorsky—Builder of Airliners, Bombers, Flying Boats and Choppers

 

Igor Sikorsky was born in Kiev, Ukraine, 1889 the youngest of five children of Ivan Alexeevich Sikorsky, a Russian professor of psychology. By the time he died in faraway Easton, Connecticut on October 26, 1972 at the age of 86 he had turned a childhood plaything into an aviation revolution and built a major company.

He was the son of privilege in a provincial capital of the Russian Empire. His mother, the decedent of Polish nobles and a physician by training, home schooled the lad. In addition to the basics she taught him art and music and shared her particular enthusiasm for Leonardo da Vinci and the exciting tales of Jules Vern. The latter two captured the boy’s imagination and by the age of twelve had constructed a model helicopter out of paper, glue, and rubber bands. It was the beginning of a lifelong obsession.

His father, an ardent Russian nationalist and monarchist, enrolled his youngest son in the service of the Tsar at the Russian Naval Academy when he was just 14. Although he excelled at his studies young Igor resigned from the Academy in 1906 to study engineering in Paris. The following year he returned home to enter the Mechanical College of the Kiev Polytechnic Institute.

In the summer of 1908, he accompanied his father on a trip to Germany. That was the year Orville Wright was creating a sensation barnstorming Europe and Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin was demonstrating his advanced LZ-4 dirigible. Both ignited the young man’s imagination. “Within twenty-four hours, I decided to change my life’s work. I would study aviation,” he would  say later.

By 1909 Sikorsky was back in Paris studying at the Ecole des Techniques Aéronautiques et de Construction Automobile. The French were rapidly surpassing the Americans and France was becoming the center of the aviation world. Sikorsky met and was influenced by the top men in the field including Louis Blériot

Back in Kiev, he turned to his childhood interest and began working on a helicopter. His first problem was creating stability in the craft. Although he made some breakthroughs on that issue, he disassembled his aircraft before testing it when he realized it would not fly. The technology needed for a workable model did not yet exist and Sikorsky felt he personally also had to learn more.

                                            Sikorski as a pilot always demonstrated his aircraft designs personally.  Seen here in 1914. 

 So he turned to fixed wing aircraft. He built two under powered models, one of which briefly got off the ground, before he was successful. In 1910 he had a breakthrough with a two seat aircraft, the S-5, his first entirely original design. Flying it he earned his pilot’s license in 1911. He flew many demonstrations in his new plane and was attracting notice for his innovation when he was involved in a crash. A simple mosquito had clogged the carburetor starving the engine of fuel. The incident convinced him of the need to develop multi-engine air craft which could survive the loss of a single engine. He enthusiastically threw himself into the development of such planes.

After winning a Russian Army aircraft exhibition in February of 1912 with his new three passenger S-6, Sikorsky joined the Russian Baltic Railroad Car Works in St. Petersburg as Chief Engineer of its new aircraft division. This gave him financial backing and industrial capacity to make huge leaps in development. Within a year he came up with his S-21 Russky Vityaz. The first prototype was mounted with two engines. Wings were extended and four engines in a push-pull arrangement were tried. Finally he mounted four tractor engines on the large bi-plane which Sikorsky himself test piloted on May 12, 1913. The accomplishment finally won him an honorary degree from the St. Petersburg Polytechnic Institute, the only degree he ever won.

Sikorski on right in his S-21 Rusky Vitaz. 

Sikorsky turned to adapting his design into a commercial airliner, the S-22 Ilya Muromets. It featured an insulated closed cabin with a passenger salon, comfortable wicker chairs, a bedroom, a lounge and even the first airborne toilet. It was heated by the passage of exhaust pipes from the engines through the cabin and had electric lighting powered by an airspeed turned generator. The cockpit had sufficient space to allow several persons to observe the pilot. Openings on both sides of the fuselage permitted mechanics to climb out onto the lower wings to service the engines during flight. On February 11, the second factory prototype flew a successful demonstration carrying 16 passengers in addition to the pilot, shattering old capacity records. Plans were made to introduce the plane to regular commercial service later in the year.

Those plans were thwarted by the outbreak of the Great War (World War I) in 1914. Sikorsky quickly adapted his air liner to the world’s first operational heavy bomber, the Military Ilia Mourometz, Type B. It was slightly smaller and lighter than the civilian Type A and fitted with internal racks that carried up to 800 kg of bombs, and positions for up to nine machine guns for self-defense in various locations, including the extreme tail. The engines were protected with 5 mm-thick armor.

Sikorski's heavy bomber in Russian service during World War I.  Licensed to Britain and France and copied by the Germans, all heavy bombers used in the war were Sikorskis or based on his design.  Modern behind the lines tactics and strategy were developed from its capacities.

The bomber went into service in the Imperial Air Force in late 1915 and by 1916 enough had been produced to assemble the world’s first heavy bomber squadrons. A total of 76 planes were produced during the war. Their heavy armament made them practically invincible in the air. Only one was ever shot down by enemy fighters, only after its gunners had knocked out three of the four attackers. Four others were badly damaged but could continue to fly and return to base. The Russians developed the first tactics for heavy bombers, including large scale and night time raids and attacks on industrial and transportation facilities behind the front lines.

At the beginning of the war, no other power had anything like it. The Germans eventually built their own bomber using parts of a crashed Ilia Mourometz as a guide and the Russians  granted to France and England to produce their own planes. Thus virtually every heavy bomber in the Great War was based on Sikorsky’s design.

After the war four surviving bombers were retrofitted to their original commercial use and between May and October 1921 were put into regular operations between Moscow and Kharkov.

By that time, Sikorsky had fled the country. The 1917 Bolshevik Revolution and subsequent Civil War had made his life untenable in the county. He remained, like his father, a monarchist and conservative as well as an ardent Orthodox Church member. After fleeing the capital, he briefly served as an engineer with French interventionist forces in the Civil War, which cemented his condemnation by the Communist government.

Sikorsky divorced his wife Olga Fyodorovna Simkovitch, perhaps to protect her, and left her and their infant daughter, Tania, behind then fled to the United States.

On arrival he found a nation that was a relative aviation backwater. Other nations had made most of the great technological leaps of the War years and the American forces flew mostly English or French made aircraft or American versions built under license. The clamor to disarm cut the possibility of military contracts. Only barnstorming pilots and airmail service using obsolete bi-planes kept any interest in aviation alive. Sikorsky struggled to support himself as a teacher and sometime lecturing on aviation.

Finally with the support of exiled Russian Army officers and a major $5,000 investment by composer Sergei Rachmaninoff he was able to form the Sikorsky Manufacturing Company in Roosevelt, New York in 1923. The same year he brought three of his sisters and his daughter Tania over from Russia. In 1924 Sikorsky married 21 year old Elisabeth Semion. They would have four children, including Igor, Jr. who would follow in his father’s footsteps as an executive in his company.

His new company turned back to the design and production of commercial air liners. The S-29-A was an all-metal, twin-engine biplane airliner, capable of carrying 16 passengers and a crew of three first flown in 1924. The airline industry was in its early infancy and the plane never sold for its intended purpose. The prototype was sold and used in promotions for Curlee Clothing and somehow as a “flying cigar store.” Howard Hughes used it as a stand-in for a bomber in Hells Angels in 1929. It crashed and was destroyed during the filming.

After becoming an American citizen in 1928 Sikorsky merged his company with United Aircraft and Transport (now United Technologies Corporation) becoming the Vought-Sikorsky Aircraft Division. As was the case with his association with the Russian rail car manufacturer, the association with a larger company gave him more assets and the industrial capacity to produce planes in numbers. A plant was established at Stratford, Connecticut.

The Skikosky S-42, backbone of the Pan American Airlines Clipper service.

Sikorski did not invent the Flying Boat, but he and his company produced the first really successful trans-oceanic airliners. After developing a successful prototype the S-40 in 1931, Pan American Airlines (Pan Am) President Juan Trippe, asked Sikorski to submit a design. At a luncheon meeting with Pan Am consultant Charles Lindbergh on a test flight of the S-40 the two men sketched out plans for a grand new aircraft on a napkin. 

The S-42, which went into production in 1934, became the mainstay of Pan Am’s global Clipper service flying on Latin American, Trans-Atlantic, and Trans-Pacific routes. Only 10 were built but Pan Am kept them plenty busy. The planes could carry 37 day passengers or 14 sleeper berths. They had a range of 1,930 miles before needing to be refueled, and flew at 180 miles per hour, a speed that ate miles on the long trips.

Sikorski had returned to tinkering with vertical lift ideas as early as 1929 when he filed a patent on a direct lift amphibious aircraft which used compressed air to power a direct lift propeller and two smaller propellers for thrust. Another direct lift patent was granted the next year. But neither of these were true helicopters. They were somewhat similar to Spanish designer Juan de la Ciervas fixed wing auto-gyros with enhanced ability to take off and land completely vertically and even to hover.

Sikorksy at the controls of the Vought-Sikorsky VS-300, the first truly modern operational helicopter, in a tethered test flight in 1939. 

The Vought-Sikorsky VS-300, was not the first true helicopter—the Soviet Yuriev/Cheremukhin was flown in 1932—but it was the first built in the United States and the first with the combination of a single horizontal rotor for lift and small vertical rotor mounted on a tail for stability, both powered by a single engine. This is the configuration that almost all modern helicopters incorporate. Mounted with pontoons it became the first amphibious helicopter and was the first to have cargo capacity. The VS-300 was tested on a tether on September 14, 1939. Sikorsky few the first untethered test flight on May 13, 1940.

Despite the breakthrough the demand for other type of aircraft production with the outbreak of World War II, interrupted further development and production. In 1942 the company introduced the two-man R-4 which became the first helicopter in the world to go into mass production. After testing prototypes which set records for endurance time aloft and distance, the Army ordered 44 aircraft, designated YR-4A, for use as a reconnaissance scout, and passenger ferry. The British ordered a handful for use on carriers

In 1944 a YR-4A performed the first helicopter rescue in history when it extracted the pilot of a crashed aircraft and three British passengers from rugged mountain country in Burma, bringing the men out in multiple flights. That soon became the primary mission of the new aircraft. They were also used to ferry aircraft parts to and from ships and to remote locations.

                                    Sikorski at the controls of an R-6 Hoverfly II.
 

The R-6 Hoverfly II was an improved, streamlined upgrade with increased speed and lift power that introduced by American and British forces in 1945 and saw limited use. The British were the first to fit the landing booms with external stretcher bearing capacity for medical evacuation. These machines continued to be in limited use through the early 1950’s. Surplus YR-4A and R-6 were sold on the civilian market after the war igniting interest in commercial possibilities.

The post war years meant a growing demand for a variety of helicopters. Among those produced were the H-19 Chickasaw, an eighteen passenger work horse that was ordered in large numbers by the Army, Navy (HOS-4) and Marines (HRS). They were extensively used in the Korean War for cargo delivery, behind the lines troop transport, and medical evacuation. The Navy and Coast Guard adapted theirs to air-sea rescue. Many were sold to foreign governments as well and the French were the first to use them in active combat as paratroop insertion and as gun platforms in Algeria and to a lesser degree in Indochina. It was French tactics that caused a re-evaluation of the use of helicopters by American forces. The H-19 also had a long life in civilian service.

The Navy’s SH-3 Sea King dual turbo-prop anti-submarine helicopter was introduced in 1961 and the Army’s heavy lifting CH-54 Tarhe or Flying Crane which was capable of delivering a tank or even retrieving a downed aircraft, in 1962. CH-3 Jolly Green Giant introduced with fore and aft rotors and a rear ramp to became a major cargo delivery and troop carrier ship. 

Sikorski lost the competition for an Army utility helicopter to Bells UH-1 Iroquois (Huey), which became the work horse of the Vietnam War and the ship around which air mobile and air cavalry tactics were built. But the company would come roaring back.

Sikorski himself remained active as Chief Engineer and had at least a hand in the development of everything that came out of his New Jersey plant, although his son and a new generation of designers took up more and more of the detailed work.

He also had time for other interests, including art and music. His interest in religion never flagged and he wrote two volumes of essays on the subject, The Message of the Lords Prayer and The Invisible Encounter, both published during World War II. He developed the Aeronautical Engineering program at Rhode Island University where he was a professor from 1932 to ’48 and subsequently lectured at the University of Bridgeport near his home. And he was a long time member of the Board of the Tolstoy Foundation which helped Soviet displaced persons, dissidents and former Soviet citizens to settle in the West.

As noted, Sikorski died in 1972 and was buried in a Greek Orthodox cemetery near his home.


 The Black Hawk, its variants, and upgrades have been the backbone of U.S. military assault and air mobile tactics for more than 40 years.  Seen here inserting an artillery piece and crew.

But his work and company went on. In 1974 the Army UH-60 Black Hawk, and Navy SH-60 Seahawk tactical armed transport helicopters with dual use as troop insertion and were introduced and upgraded models are still in production. They are still a backbone of operations and have been extensively used in conflicts including the First Gulf War, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Their vulnerability to shoulder-fired anti-aircraft weapons and small arms—as the Russians discovered flying similar aircraft in Afghanistan, and as was demonstrated in the Black Hawk Down incident in Somalia and has caused military planners to reassess the air-mobile tactics of Vietnam.

In the current War in Ukraine both sides have turned to swarms of drones for many offensive operations and have found helicopters to vulnerable to safely deliver troops to combat zones meaning that advances on the front lines have mostly been grinding ground operations

Sikorski is considered a national hero in Ukraine where this monument was dedicated in Kiev despite the fact that he was an ethnic Russian and an ardent Russian nationalist.  Soviet era attempts to scrub the anti-Communist from history raised his appeal in Ukraine.

In 2015 giant defense contractor Lockheed Martin bought the Sikorski helicopter operations from United Technology.

The Navy is now operating its entire armed transport, reconnaissance, vertical insertion fleets with variants of the Seahawk.



Friday, October 25, 2024

Upon St. Crispin’s Day a Nasty Surprise for the French


The Battle of Agincourt as depicted in the French manuscript Recueil des croniques d’Engleterre by Jean of Wavrin circa 1480. 
 
The Battle of Agincourt, which was fought on October 25, 1415, is usually found on one of those lists of the most important battles in world history that intrigue the kind of military history geeks who haunted the History Channel before it turned into a freak show of ancient aliens and conspiracy theories.  This is due almost entirely to the Anglo-centrism of the historians and publicity by one William Shakespeare who made a hero out of English King Henry V and put in his mouth a glorious speech which took on a special significance as a rallying cry for the British in the darkest days of another war more than 500 years later.

The battle was a decisive English victory over a much larger French army and is interesting on a number of points, but in the long run did little to change the course of history.  It was a part of the series of conflicts known at the Hundred Years War fought from 1337 and 1453 between the Valois and Anjou (the English House of Plantagenet) claimants to the French throne.  Here is the Cliff Notes version of what happened.
                            English King Henry V was fighting for his claim to be heir to the French Crown.
 
Henry V was the second of the Lancastrian kings of the Plantagenet dynasty, a branch of the French House of Anjou which had ruled England since 1154.  His father, Henry IV had successfully usurped the throne from Richard II and established a new line of succession.  Young Henry V acceded to the throne in 1413 at the age of 27.  As Prince of Wales he was already a seasoned military commander who led armies against a Welsh rebellion in his principality.  

He was an ambitious and aggressive monarch.  He began his reign with many reforms, including restoring the lands and titles of most the heirs and loyalists of Richard II to gain their support.  He also decreed for the first time the English, rather than French, was the official language of the kingdom.  His court was the first to use English and he wrote predominately in it.  But that did not mean he was not interested in France.

The young monarch, seeing France was in dynastic turmoil, decided to reinstate his claim to the title of King of France, which was based on connections through Richard II.  He also wanted to reclaim and expand large claims of land on the Continent, most of which had been lost over the preceding two hundred years.  He demanded of the French to be accepted as the legitimate heir to the throne and in addition to ancestral Anjou and Normandy demanded Aquitaine, Touraine, Brittany, and Flanders and marriage to the daughter of the Valois claimant to the French crown to cement his own.  After two years of negotiations Henry received the permission of Parliament to declare war and impose a doubled tax rate to finance a campaign.

With the revenues, Henry raised an army composed not only of the noble knights and men at arms, but primarily of hired yeomen most of whom were armed with the longbows.  His army of about 12,000 arrived in France in August of 1415 and immediately laid siege to the port of Harfleur.  Due to a lack of proper siege equipment, the capture of the city took until well into September, which gave the divided French time to unite and gather a large army at Roen under Charles dAlbret, the Constable of France.

Because the campaign season was drawing to a close, Henry decided to try to avoid a battle with the main French army, and to march north to the English port of Calais to resupply over the winter.  His force was already reduced to about 9,000 by disease and was soon hungry as they could not forage enough provisions as they marched.  The French army began to shadow them, but waited to gain strength as more troops joined. 
 
At the River Somme the French got ahead of Henry and blocked the most direct route to Calais, forcing him to move south, away from the city to find a ford.  He finally crossed south of Péronne.  Resuming his march north again, Henry found the whole French army blocking his path near Agincourt on October 24.  The 250 mile march over two and a half weeks had left his army in wretched condition, but Henry knew that the French were still receiving reinforcements and had to come to battle before they arrived.
The chosen battleground could not have been worse for the much larger French army pressing them into a narrow front flanked by heavy woods.  It was a lethal trap.

As was the custom the two sides met and agreed on the battle field.  It could not have been a more disastrous choice for the French who out-numbered the English by as many as 6 to 1.  The battle was to be fought on a recently harvested open field only 750 yard wide closed in between two thick stands of woods.  The night before the battle heavy rains had turned the field into a sea of mud, which would only become more encumbering as it was roiled by men and horses
 
Henry deployed his forces across the narrowest point on the southern end of the field, divided into three sectors with himself personally on the field in command of the center.  These forces totaled about 1,500 heavily armed knights and men-at-arms mostly dismounted.  Along both flanks, and backed against the woods, he deployed his 7,000 longbowmen protected from the cavalry attack by hastily erected abattoirs and abatises, sharpened logs dug into the ground at an angle.

The French had to advance several hundred yards across the muddy ground to reach the English line.  The French deployed 10,000 heavily armored knights and men at arms in two or three divisions, with about 1,200 knights mounted as cavalry.  To the rear were thousands more men including archers, crossbowmen, and levies of ill-trained, lightly armed infantry which the French evidently did not even plan to deploy, so sure were they about the power of the “cream of French nobility” to carry the day against the vastly outnumbered English.
 
It turned out the most effective force on the field were the English yeomen longbowmen.

The action began with a successful raid on Henry’s baggage train to the rear, which made him nervous all day of being surrounded.  Then, as the heavy infantry began their slog across the field, the cavalry charged the two flanks of archers.  The longbowmen let fly with volley after volley of high arching shots that fell on the knights wounding and maddening their horses, many of which broke away and began wildly running across the field.  The surviving horsemen came up against the sharpened stakes and could not break through suffering heavy casualties.  They and the maddened horses churned the muddy ground badly then crashed into their own lines of advancing men on foot.

The archers turned their attention to the men at arms that were advancing slowly and with great difficulty over the muddy ground.  Their many flights of arrows did not injure many due to heavy armor, but the incessant rain of missiles made them march with their helmet visors down to prevent injury to the face, which restricted their vision and their breathing.  Soon the French were bogged down in knee deep muck as the rear ranks continued to push forward.  By the time that they finally reached the English line they were exhausted and only the very front ranks could even swing their broadswords because they were pressed so tightly together.  The French did push the English line back, but were soon engaged in furious hand to hand combat.  Many of the French fell unwounded but were unable to get up in the deep mud with the heavy weight of their armor.  Many drowned in the mud, others were trampled by their own men.  With only the front ranks effectively able to engage, they suffered heavy losses and soon the ground was covered by the French dead.

Then, the English longbowmen, having exhausted their arrows, surged from behind their stakes swinging axes, short swords, weapons picked up on the field and attacked the dense mass of French on the flanks.  Unarmored except for helmets and light mail, they were speedy and agile and slaughtered the exhausted French.
 
                                King Henry fought on foot in command of the English center. 
 
The English knights began taking prisoners among the survivors in hopes of exchanging them for ransom, as was the custom.  But Henry, fighting at the front of his troops thought he saw movement in the French rear and feared a second attack.  He also began to worry that the many prisoners might take advantage of the chaos of the battlefield to seize weapons and turn on their captors.  Henry ordered his knights to execute their hostages.  Most refused because they wanted the ransom money and because they feared that if they did so, they would receive the same treatment if later captured themselves.  Frustrated, the King sent his most trusted aide at the head of a force of 150 non-noble yeoman infantry to hack the prisoners to death with axes and broadswords.

Whatever the intention of the French secondary had been, the sight of the Nobles of France being hacked to death sent the remaining forces into a panicked retreat.  They ran into and became ensnared with the great number of unused archers, crossbow men, and light infantry, who might have saved the day, had not the knights been too proud to deploy them.

The battle was a disaster for France.  French losses were estimated to be between 7,000 and 10,000, almost all of them killed.  About 1,500 nobles survived the slaughter as prisoners.  The English lost a documented 112 men on the day of the battle and probably hundreds more of wounds, disease, or exhaustion within days.  The best guess for total English casualties is about 450 dead and wounded.

Henry did not follow up, as he could have, with an attack on Paris to take the crown.  Instead, he returned to England to receive a heros welcome and re-arm for another season of campaigning.  He returned to France in 1417.  After years of fighting the 1420 Treaty of Troyes gave him nearly everything he wanted.  He was recognized as heir and Regent of France until the death of King Charles VI.  He married Charles’s daughter Catherine of Valois to secure his dynastic claim.

In 1422 Henry was campaigning in France against hold-outs not recognizing his claim when he died of dysentery.  Charles VI died within a month, making Henry’s infant son Henry VI King of France.
  
The younger Henry grew into his crowns, but battled depression and some said bouts of madness.  He was deposed as English King once, returned to the throne, and lost it again to the House of York in the War of the Roses.  But he retained the disputed throne of France until his death 1453.  The same year the Hundred Year War finally ended with England expelled from France except for Calais and accession of Charles VII to the throne, resuming the Valois dynasty. 

The lasting impact of the battle of Agincourt was to begin a revolution in military theory and practice.  It was the swansong of chivalry and semi-feudal armies built around the war lord castes of nobility.  Heavy knights were shown to be vulnerable to both the long bow and to lighter forces fighting behind and from field fortifications.  As the Hundred Year War dragged on the addition of firearms and artillery only accelerated the development.  The fall of reliance on knighthood also reduced the influence of the nobility and raised the power of a monarch who could hire armies.  By 16th Century large professional armies helped lead to the creation of the nation state as we know it.

The French and English went on being the best of enemies through future conflicts that would including 18 wars before the virtual world wars—The Seven Years War (in America the French and Indian Wars), the Anglo-French War of 1779-1783 (including France’s participation in the American Revolution), and the Napoleonic Wars.

Only later in the 19th Century did changing European political realities—certain common colonial interests and the unification and militarization of Germany—finally brought the two old rivals together as sometimes wary and suspicious allies
 
With World War II raging, Laurence Olivier mounted his screen production of the Bard's Henry V mostly as a set piece for the rousing St. Crispin's Day Speech, meant to inspire the current generation.  The patriotic ode to England is surely the oddest speech to attribute to a man waging a war to claim the French crown.

Despite all of that history, what most people remember are the words never spoken by Henry but put in his mouth by William Shakespeare in his history play, Henry V:

              If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
                To do our country loss; and if to live,
                The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
                God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
                By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
                Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
                It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
                Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
                But if it be a sin to covet honour,
                I am the most offending soul alive.
                No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
                God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
                As one man more methinks would share from me
                For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
                Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
                That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
                Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
                And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
                We would not die in that man’s company
                That fears his fellowship to die with us.
                This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
                He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
                Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
                And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
                He that shall live this day, and see old age,
                Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
                And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
                Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
                And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
                Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
                But he'll remember, with advantages,
                What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
                Familiar in his mouth as household words-
                Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
                Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
                Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
                This story shall the good man teach his son;
                And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
                From this day to the ending of the world,
                But we in it shall be remembered-
                We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
                For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
                Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
                This day shall gentle his condition;
                And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
                Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
                And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
                That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

            —William Shakespeare

 

Thursday, October 24, 2024

The Lady Who First Went Over the Falls in a Barrel

 

Annie Edson Taylor, her barrel, and Niagara Falls.

America fell in love with stunts and daredevils almost from the beginning.  The first American celebrity, after all was not an actor or musician, but Sam Patch, a young Yankee who leaped—twice—into roaring base of Niagara Falls from a high platform in 1829, only to die trying a similar stunt at the Falls of the Genesee River a few weeks later.  In 1859 the French acrobat Jean Francois Gravelet, better known as the Great Blondin crossed the gorge above the Falls on a tightrope in a series of increasingly spectacular performances incorporating numerous tricks.  Over the next three decades several others would duplicate the feat—or die trying.

Sam Patch became America's first celebrity and established a tradition of daredevil stunts at Niagara Falls when he leapt into the gorge at the foot of the falls in 1829.

But the person who invented the most iconic of all Niagara stunts was a sixty-three year old woman encumbered by the enormous dress and petticoats, and high laced shoes fashionable in 1901.  Annie Edson Taylor became the first person to go over the Falls in a barrel

The spectacular Falls of the Niagara tumble over a 165 foot escarpment near Buffalo, New York.  The international border between Canada and the United States separates Horseshoe Falls in Canada from American and Bridal Veil Falls in the U.S.  More easily accessible by boat from Montreal 75 miles upriver, only hearty—and wealthy—tourists made the daunting trip from the US in the late 18th and early 19th Centuries.  Intense fighting across the frontier in the during the War of 1812 both interrupted tourism and later inspired more visits.

When the Erie Canal opened in 1829, visitors from New York City finally had a reasonably comfortable—if excruciatingly slow—means to visit the Falls from the American side.  Serious tourism began to take off.  Sam Patch’s famous jumps were the first stunts aimed at promoting the Falls as a tourist destination.  Local inn keepers and merchants on both sides of the border would continue to promote stunts when interest in the natural beauty of the Falls failed to lure enough visitors. 

By 1841 it was possible to reach Buffalo, only 17 miles from the falls, by rail.  Excursion lines to the Falls followed.  After the Civil War the New York Central Railroad heavily promoted the Falls as a tourist and especially honeymoon destination.  Well appointed, even elegant, hotels began to replace inns and rooming houses.  The Falls became, bar none, the most popular tourist attraction in the country and remained so through much of the 20th Century.

Which brings us to Annie Edson.  She was born on October 24, 1838 in upstate Auburn, New York.  She was one of eight children of a prosperous flour mill operator and grew up in provincial privilege.  He died when she was 12 but left the family well provided.  She decided to take no chances when she grew up, so studied to become a teacher.  She became one of the few in her era to obtain a certificate for four years of preparatory study

While studying she met and married David Taylor when she was 17.  The couple had one son who died in infancy.  After 7 years of marriage David was killed in the Civil War.  The young widow had to return to teaching, never a remunerative profession in those days, to eke out a living.

She bounced from job to job, place to place setting herself up as a music, dance, or even charm school teacher.  She eventually arrived in Bay City, Michigan where she established a struggling dance academy for young girls.  Then she went to remote Sault Ste. Marie to teach music in 1900.  When that failed she tried San Antonio, Texas and even Mexico City before returning to Bay City.  Taylor had small savings but was growing increasingly desperate that she would end up “in the poor house.”
That was when, recalling her enchanting visits as a child to the Falls, she concocted her wild scheme to make a fortune as a daredevil.  

Taylor was not the first person to think of going over the falls in a barrelCargo from steamers on the river above the falls frequently became dislodged for one reason or another and was swept over the precipice.  Even heavy wooden crates were routinely smashed either by the rocks below or the power of the falling water and turbulence.  But in those days sturdy oak barrels ringed with steel bands were common packing containers for a wide variety of staple items and even manufactured goods like China and glassware.  Many of those barrels went over the falls and were seen popping up from the foam below and being swept downriver.  Those with imaginations soon concluded that perhaps a person sealed in such a container might survive.

Taylor opted to go over the falls in a standing position in her special weighted barrel.  She was secured by straps over her shoulders and protected by a cushion under her feet and a mattress lining.  Her head, just a couple of inches from the barrel lid, was protected by a favorite embroidered heart pillow from her sofa.  No one else ever tried the stunt in this position.

At least a couple of poorly documented attempts were made with fatal results.  Taylor was convinced she could do better.  Investing her meager savings, she commissioned a long, narrow barrel to her specifications and personally supervised its construction.  It had to be high enough for her to be nestled erect and cushioned by a mattress and other padding.  It contained two metal hand holds on the side and a leather strap loop for the lid

Dazed and battered Taylor was assisted from a rescue boat to the shore.                   

On October 19, 1901 she tested the barrel by sending her pet cat Niagara over the falls in it.  The cat survived with a nasty gash on its head, which Taylor attributed to it not fitting snuggly enough in the padding.  

She hired a manager to promote her and announced her attempt in the press despite a Canadian prohibition against such stunts.

At first she had trouble finding helpers willing to abet a “suicide.”  But she eventually secured a small boat to launch her and men to seal her in the barrel by nailing the lid down.  The air pressure was compressed to 30 p.s.i. with a bicycle pump in the water-and-air-tight contraption

                        Dazed and battered Taylor was assisted from a rescue boat to the shore.

On the morning of the 24th, her birthday, several thousand people gathered to watch the spectacle. Taylor removed the heavy jacket of her best dress and her big hat, crawled into the barrel, which was lying on its side, backwards.  She had her helpers attempt to conceal this from the crowd because she considered it undignified.  She clutched a favorite heart shaped pillow for luck and extra cushion.  A rowboat towed her from the American shore to the Canadian waters above Horseshoe Falls where the lid was screwed down and air pumped in.

Taylor's plunge made headlines not only in Buffalo, but across the country just as she hoped.  But exploiting her fame for cash turned elusive.

Less than twenty minutes after being set adrift, she was over the falls and her barrel was bobbing in the water downstream.  It took some time for it to be hauled to shore and the top opened.  “Mrs. Taylor are you all right?” the opener asked.  Clearly rattled she answered weakly, “Where am I?”

She was physically intact except for a small gash on her head.  But the experience had been traumatic.  She told the press, “if it was with my dying breath, I would caution anyone against attempting the feat… I would sooner walk up to the mouth of a cannon, knowing it was going to blow me to pieces than make another trip over the Fall.”

As she expected, the stunt was a sensation, making headlines across the country.  She looked forward to exploiting her fame with on a tour with her barrel giving lectures about the experience.  But from the beginning there were problems.  She had been afraid that people would not relate well to such an old woman doing the stunt, so she had told the press that she was 45.  When she appeared on stage for her lectures, however, she looked like the 63 year old she was.  Audiences were convinced that she was a fraud, not the real “heroine of the mists.”  Many walked out, demanding their money back.  As word spread future bookings drew ever thinner crowds.

Her manager, Frank M. Russell, took off with the barrel, evidently planning to exhibit it with a younger actress pretending to be Taylor.  She spent virtually her last penny paying private detectives to find the barrel, which was eventually located in Chicago and then lost again

In despair, by 1906 Taylor even considered making the terrifying trip again.  Luckily she was dissuaded.  Eventually she returned to the Falls where she spent her last years eking out the most tenuous of livings selling autographed souvenir postcards from a table on the street next to a reproduction of her barrel.  She died, as she had long feared she would, penniless on April 29, 1921 at age 82, in the Niagara County Infirmary in Lockport. She is interred in the Stunter's Section of Oakwood Cemetery in Niagara Falls, New York.  

Annie's stunt inspired many other daredevils riding in an odd assortment of barrels, spheres, and contraptions many of them are on display in the the Niagara Daredevils Exhibit in the lobby of the IMAX Theater at the base of the impossible-to-miss Skylon Tower above the Falls.

Taylor’s achievement inspired imitators—about 75% of whom survived, some with serious injuries.  At least 11 other attempts were made, two involving two people and some made more than one trip, in various barrels, balls, and contraptions.  Others went over the falls in kayaks, boats, a jet ski, and even totally unprotected either on purpose or by accident.  Generally with bad results.  As many as 30 people a year are thought to commit suicide by jumping in the river above or below the falls, many bodies were not recovered.