LITMIR.BIZ

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      Farnsworth called, “Switch off” (the OX-5 had but one magneto) and Ben repeated. Farnsworth pulled the wooden prop through a few times, turning the engine over and priming the carburetor.

      “Switch on,” he called, and Ben turned the magneto switch to on.

      The next time Farnsworth pulled the prop through, the OX-5 engine sputtered a few times and stopped. He again pulled the prop through with the switch off. Next time, with the switch on, the engine started and the prop spun while the engine continued to run.

      A huge crowd (for Fairbanks) had gathered. Ben allowed the engine to warm. Finally he advanced to full throttle. The OX-5 roared, and the Jenny bounced as it gained speed across the uneven ground and climbed into the Fairbanks sky.

      For the next half hour he flew loops, spins, aileron rolls, flew upside down briefly, climbed, stalled, swooped near the ground and climbed noisily, above excited Fairbanksans.

      When he landed, the day was still early. He took off and flew toward the fifty-mile-distant riverbank village of Nenana, where he had promised to give a flying demonstration. He followed the railroad tracks that ran between the two towns. His passenger was banker Dick Wood, who, despite prohibition, reportedly settled his nerves with a few shots of white mule before climbing aboard. Flying, after all, was a scary business.

      Ben cut across bends in the railroad tracks, lost sight of the tracks, and circled, trying to find them again. Becoming lost was one of his weaknesses as a pilot; it happened with discouraging frequency. He circled for more than an hour, searching, and finally found the tiny riverbank village of Nenana. For $500 from the local citizenry, he performed loops, tailspins, aileron rolls, power dives, and other acrobatics.

      He was called “The Flying Professor,” and “Lieutenant Eielson,” and various superlatives in the News-Miner’s report on his day of flying.

      President Warren Harding arrived at Fairbanks after driving a golden spike on July 16, 1923, just north of the new Tanana River bridge, symbolizing completion of the Alaska Railroad. Later, on a day at Fairbanks when the temperature reached 94 degrees, Eielson flew his Jenny in a spectacular series of stunts for the President and his party.

      COMMERCIAL FLIGHTS FROM FAIRBANKS

      That summer of 1923, with the Jenny, Ben Eielson flew passengers for brief flights, and to and from various mines and nearby villages. He flew machine parts to mines. He flew sick people from villages to the Fairbanks hospital. He flew game meat, gold, furs, groceries, and other items. Fairbanksans and regional miners found that air service was quicker, often by days, and often much cheaper, than ground or water transportation in the roadless wilderness-like land surrounding Fairbanks.

      Advertising in the News-Miner, he offered, “Flying lessons from the Farthest-North Airplane Company. Your choice of the long course, or the short course! Take a dip in the clouds! Prices to fit all pocketbooks.”

      He flew commercial flights to Circle, Brooks (Livengood), Tolovana, Tofty, Stewart Creek, all within a short distance of Fairbanks. He was limited to light loads that would fit into the front cockpit, and by the 150-mile distance he could fly from Fairbanks with the Jenny.

      Ben flew the Jenny for 145 hours that summer. Most flights were reported in the News-Miner. By summer’s end various villages and mines surrounding Fairbanks had prepared runways where an airplane could land. Residents were beginning to understand the advantages of air travel.

      AIRMAIL FOR ALASKA?

      When cold weather came, the Jenny was stored for winter. While flying from Fairbanks that summer, Eielson had written to the Post Office Department in Washington proposing a contract for flying mail from Fairbanks to 300-mile-distant McGrath. In winter, mail between the two places was hauled by dog team, taking up to thirty days. Eielson pointed out that it was a simple flight, easily accomplished in a few hours. The Post Office Department responded with lukewarm bureaucratic double talk.

      After all, in winter, mail had been carried by dog teams in Alaska since before the turn of the century. The routes were established, and a considerable business surrounded dog team mail carriers, including mail carrier contracts, sled builders, the sale of tons of dried salmon for dog food. Dog team trails ran all directions in Interior Alaska, with roadhouses spaced roughly every thirty miles where travelers, most of whom used dog teams, could find food, overnight lodging, and facilities for dog care. In addition, there were government-maintained relief cabins on long hauls between roadhouses. Mail team drivers were popular, for with teams of eighteen, twenty, or more dogs, they broke trail in new snow. Other users of the trails often waited for a mail team to go by so they could follow on the broken trail.

      Mail dog team drivers annually bid on mail routes. Those awarded contracts for the coming winter were listed in the June 2, 1926, News Miner. A sampling (value of contract not listed):

      Bethel to McGrath—Wallace Langley

      Bethel to Quinhagak—Charles E. Jacobson

      Bettles to Wiseman—Sam Dubin

      Candle to Keewalik—Herbert Greenberg

      Chatanika to Circle—Henry Robson

      Chicken to St. Timothy—R. C. Mitchell

      Circle via Fort Yukon to Beaver—Northern Commercial Company

      Circle to Miller House—John Palm

       A dog team of about twenty animals used by a mail team driver. Winter mail was hauled by dog teams in mainland Alaska from the 1800s until airplanes took over mostly by the late 1930s. This photo was probably taken at Nenana. Commonly, such a team pulled two heavily loaded sleds hooked together. Once airplanes became established, winter mail could be flown more economically than hauled by dog teams.

      Within a few years the airplane forced many of the enterprises involved with dog teams out of business, but not without a struggle. As airplanes challenged, a notice posted outside one roadhouse read, “Drunks, Indians, and Airplane Pilots not Welcome Here.” The airplane changed life in Alaska in many ways, and much of the change took place within ten or fifteen years. Those whose livelihoods were displaced generally didn’t like pilots.

      That fall of 1923 Eielson traveled to Washington D. C. attempting to obtain a contract to fly mail from Fairbanks to McGrath. He visited Post Office officials and pitched his proposal. He reminded authorities of his February airmail flight to Nenana. He was a handsome young man, full of enthusiasm, and persuasive, and he had flown as an Army pilot, which was all a plus. Alaska was a complete unknown to the bureaucrats he approached. They probably regarded Eielson as a strange bird.

      McGrath lies at the confluence of the Takotna and Kuskokwim Rivers, and is a center for gold mining, trapping, and freighting. It is a transfer point for freight bound for the upper Kuskokwim River; here larger river boats and tugs with barges transfer freight to smaller vessels better adapted to the upper reaches of the winding river.

Flying the mail was relatively new in the United States, although it was common in Europe.³

      AN AIRMAIL CONTRACT

      Dan Sutherland, Alaska’s Delegate to Congress, had been promoting air mail service for the Territory for three years. Eielson’s pitch and Sutherland’s pressure worked, for in December, 1923, the Postal Service announced a contract would be let to the Farthest-North Airplane Company (Eielson, W.F. Thompson, and Dick Wood) for an experimental aeroplane service for the 230 miles between Nenana, on the Alaska Railroad, and McGrath, on the Kuskokwim River.

The route crossed the Kantishna gold mining and fur trapping country, with stops at Ophir, Takotna, Iditarod, and Flat City. Winter dog team mail service was to continue during the airmail flights. Ben Eielson was to pilot a DeHavilland DH-4BM biplane loaner⁴ from the Postal Service,

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