[Congressional Record Volume 150, Number 20 (Tuesday, February 24, 2004)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E208-E210]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                    UNCLE ARTHUR AND ORVILLE WRIGHT

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. ROB SIMMONS

                             of connecticut

                    in the house of representatives

                       Tuesday, February 24, 2004

  Mr. SIMMONS. Mr. Speaker, earlier this month the media reported that 
Rover and Opportunity were exploring the Martian surface. Mars is about 
35 million miles from Earth, yet man can reach that alien world.
  On December 17, 1903, at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, an equally awe-
inspiring event took place. It was there that Wilbur and Orville Wright 
gave birth to man's ability to fly by successfully testing the first 
powered, heavier-than-air craft that achieved sustained flight with a 
pilot aboard. The first flight was only 120 feet, far less than the 
distance to Mars, but that single event defined the 20th Century.
  In the December 2003 issue of Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association 
Magazine, I learned, through an article written by my brother, Tom 
Simmons, that our family has a connection to the Wright Brothers. Our 
Great Uncle Arthur Ruhl was one of only six journalists in May 1908 to 
watch the Wright Brothers work with their aircraft at Kitty Hawk.
  An article about what Uncle Arthur saw appeared in Colliers magazine 
on May 30, 1908. But this story doesn't end with Uncle Arthur's 
article. He sent a copy of his story to the Wright Brothers and Orville 
sent back a warm reply. Emboldened by the inventor's response, and his 
own curiosity, Uncle Arthur wrote back and asked if he could take a 
flight. Orville responded that they had so many requests they were 
limiting their passengers to Army officials.
  Undaunted, Uncle Arthur continued his correspondence with Orville 
Wright, and by 1910 the Wright Brothers were exhibiting their aircraft 
because the public was paying to watch the flights. Who should be 
covering one of the

[[Page E209]]

exhibitions for Colliers Weekly but Uncle Arthur. He was watching 
Orville Wright train one of his students when the inventor extended the 
long sought invitation.
  Uncle Arthur found the adventure exhilarating. He wrote, ``It was now 
that we seemed, indeed, to be going like the wind--a wonderful 
sensation, like nothing else, so near to the earth, yet spurning it.''
  I fly between Washington and my home in Connecticut just about every 
weekend. Today air travel does not inspire the awe described by Uncle 
Arthur. But it is an amazing thing--the ability to fly thousands of 
miles around the world in a matter of hours, or to set foot on a planet 
that our ancestors looked at every night with amazement and wonder.
  I can now look at flight through the eyes of my Uncle Arthur; and I 
will probably never look at the trip between Washington and Connecticut 
so casually ever again.

                    [From the AOPA Pilot, Dec. 2003]

                       Up in the Air With Orville

                            (By Tom Simmons)

       There are many ways to ``catch the flying bug.'' One of the 
     the most common occurs when a pilot offers a nonpilot a ride 
     in his airplane. If this ever happened to you (since you're 
     reading AOPA Pilot today) chances are good that you said, 
     ``You bet!'' Chances are also good that the pilot was 
     certified by the FAA and his airplane was a certificated 
     airframe.
       So imagine, for a moment, the same situation but with 
     slightly altered circumstances. Imagine that the pilot has 
     never taken a flying lesson in his life and knows nothing 
     about aerodynamics other than what he has taught himself 
     through trial and error. Imagine that the airplane is home-
     built, the most recent in a succession of airframes built by 
     this self taught pilot because he keeps modifying the control 
     system and all his previous airplanes have been destroyed in 
     flying accidents. And finally, imagine that the seat you are 
     offered is a wooden chair bolted to the wing, without cockpit 
     or cowling surrounding it, and not even a seat belt to hold 
     you in place. Still interested?
       I know of a man who said, ``You bet!'' under the exact 
     circumstances I've just described. He was my great-uncle, 
     Arthur Ruhl, a feature writer for Collier's Weekly in the 
     early decades of the twentieth century. And the pilot who 
     took him for his first thrill ride was Orville Wright.
       The story begins in May 1908. The Wright brothers had 
     returned to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, to test a two-man 
     machine built according to contract specifications for the 
     Army Signal Corps. My great-uncle was one of six journalists 
     watching surreptitiously from a stand of trees a half-mile 
     away. At the time, the Wrights were still secretive about 
     their invention and refused to fly in front of witnesses 
     (which fueled doubts about their claims of successful 
     flights) so the journalists stayed out of sight.
       They watched two flights, including the first two-man 
     flight the Wrights had ever attempted. As Uncle Arthur's 
     article in the May 30 edition of Collier's describes it: ``A 
     hundred yards away, the great bird swung to the right and 
     swept grandly by, broadside on. Some cows grazing on the 
     beach grass threw their heads upward, and whirling about, 
     galloped away in terror ahead of the approaching machine. It 
     swept on far above them indifferently, approached the sand 
     hills three-quarters of a mile to the left, rose to them, 
     soared over and down the other side.''
       Uncle Arthur was clearly thrilled by what he saw. He sent a 
     copy of his article, ``History at Kill Devil Hill,'' to the 
     Wright brothers and received a warm reply from Orville. ``I 
     thought your account of the maneuverings of the newspaper men 
     at Kill Devil Hills the most interesting thing I have ever 
     seen concerning our experiments,'' Orville wrote. Pretty high 
     praise.
       Perhaps it was these kind words from Orville that 
     emboldened my uncle to make his next contact in September 
     1908. Orville was then in Washington, D.C., flying the 
     acceptance trials for the Army, and on September 9 he had 
     taken up his first passenger. Uncle Arthur wrote him and 
     asked to be taken up for a flight. Orville's handwritten 
     reply appears on Cosmos Club stationery.
       Sep. 14, 1908.
       My dear Mr. Ruhl: I have your letter, and I am sure it 
     would give me great pleasure to take you up with me in our 
     machine, but I have had so many requests that I hardly see 
     how I can take you without giving offense to others. I am 
     limiting the number of passengers to the Army officials at 
     present. I am sorry that you were not able to remain to see 
     some of the flights, but hope you may be able to come down 
     again.
       Very truly yours
       Orville Wright
       Strong winds prevented Orville from flying for several 
     days. On September 17, his next flight after writing my 
     uncle, Orville took Lt. Thomas Selfridge up as his passenger. 
     One of the propellers separated, sliced a guy wire, and 
     caused the machine to crash. Selfridge was killed.
       A more timid man might have abandoned his hopes of flying 
     right then and there. But not Arthur Ruhl. When Orville 
     recovered from injuries sustained in the accident and 
     returned to work in May 1909, he found a letter waiting for 
     him. Uncle Arthur still wanted to take a flight. Orville 
     again refused.
       Orville wrote back: We shall not be able to make any 
     flights before we go to Washington, and once we get to work 
     there we shall have to devote every flight to teaching our 
     pupils. Besides if we take one passenger we will be besieged 
     with requests from people whom it will be almost impossible 
     to refuse. You will readily see how much embarrassment it 
     will make us if we begin to take passengers. It would give us 
     pleasure to take you for a little spin, in recompense for the 
     suffering you endured, on ``the firing line'' but we did not 
     see how we can do it. We shall be glad to see you in 
     Washington in you find it convenient to be there while we are 
     at work on our government contract.
       But that's not the end of the story. In 1910, the Wrights 
     decided to enter the exhibition business. Americans weren't 
     buying airplanes but they were paying to watch others fly 
     them. So the real money in aviation was out on the flying 
     circuit. In order to compete in as many events as possible, 
     Orville started training pilots for the Wright brothers team. 
     Instruction was conducted at Huffman Prairie, a hummocky 
     pasture eight miles outside of Dayton. And once again, Arthur 
     Ruhl was there to cover the story for Collier's Weekly.
       For a nonpilot writing in 1910, Uncle Arthur's 
     understanding of aerodynamics was impressive. In the 
     Collier's article, he writes: ``One of the first things 
     to learn, of course, is that the air isn't the simple 
     homogeneous medium it seems to be. It boils and shifts and 
     swirls as current fights tide, and the aeroplane is 
     sailing, not across the stream, but through it.
       ``Take, for instance, this peaceful cow pasture on a bright 
     June morning. The sky is an even blue and the solitary tree 
     across the field seems drenched in slumbering sunshine. Yet, 
     as a matter of fact, any one of many interesting things are 
     happening near the tree. Maybe the air is streaking up from 
     it as it would streak up a chimney flue, or swirling round it 
     as water swirls around a rock, and if you are flying into the 
     wind and at the tree, the wind may come pouring down over it 
     and upon you like an invisible waterfall.''
       Uncle Arthur also seems to have understood the Wrights' 
     control system pretty well. ``The wings and vertical rudder 
     work together in their machine. The same pull which depresses 
     the left wing-tip and increases its angle of incidence--gives 
     it a firmer grip on the air, so to say--lifts the right wing-
     tip and lightens its grip accordingly; at the same time the 
     rear rudder turns to the right, thus tending to counteract 
     the combined drag and lift of the wings and bring the machine 
     back to an even keel.''
       Uncle Arthur watched Orville train his students until the 
     sun edged toward the horizon. ``And then he gave an 
     invitation which had been sought ever since a baking spring 
     morning two years ago, when six weary and tick-bitten 
     corresponding rowed, waded, tramped, and crawled for several 
     hours to a spot under Kill Devil Hill and there saw the 
     Wright machine in successful flight across the Kitty Hawk 
     sands. `You're elected.' said Orville and I climbed in.
       ``The passengers's seat in the Wright machine is in the 
     middle. THe engine is at his right, and the driver is at his 
     left, so that the balance is the same whether an extra man is 
     carried or not. You sit on a small wooden seat with a back, 
     grasp one of the uprights with your right hand, and rest you 
     feet on a cross-bar. Although not fastened in, one is pretty 
     safely caged by a guy-wire, which passes diagonally across 
     and close to one's chest.''
       Thus seated, wearing a three-piece suit and jaunty cap, 
     Uncle Arthur headed for the heavens.
       ``Curious and rather uncanny air trends strike the machine 
     more or less continually as it flies. From the way it 
     vibrates, from the little flapping pennant in front, most of 
     all from an instinct which can only be acquired by 
     experience, the veteran knows pretty well what is happening 
     and how to meet it. But as the novice feels himself suddenly 
     boosted up or dropped with a sensation much like that felt 
     when an elevator suddenly drops or rises, he can only sit 
     tight and trust the man beside him.
       ``And it was up here, about three hundred feet in the air, 
     that Orville treated me to the only maneuver which a regular 
     bird-man could, I suppose, have regarded as remotely in the 
     nature of an adventure. For any one tired of life and 
     listlessly seeking a new sensation, I can thoroughly 
     recommend it. Just get the Wrights to take you up a few 
     hundred feet, and then as you hand there above the abyss, 
     like a lamb in a condor's claws, bring the great bird up 
     standing and stiffly `banked,' swing it around in a diameter 
     of, say, two hundred feet.''
       Imagine that. Uncle Arthur, sitting on a seat with no seat 
     belt, up in the air for the first time in his life, flying at 
     about the height of a 30-story building--and Orville puts the 
     plane into a tight banked turn. I don't know how you would 
     have felt and I'm not sure how I would have felt. But my 
     great-uncle loved it! His article, titled ``Up in the Air 
     With Orville,'' is filled with his joy from the experience.
       ``Thus we slid down, faster than ever now, with the wind 
     blowing the tears out of our eyes; and just before touching 
     ground came up with exquisite ease and went skimming round 
     the field just tickling the weed tops. It was now that we 
     seemed, indeed, to be going like the wind--a wonderful 
     sensation, like nothing else, so near to the earth, yet 
     spurning it. Twice around the filed we went, keeping an even 
     distance from the ground, as if on an invisible track, and 
     then Orville shut off the engine and we slid down upon the 
     grass just as a duck on the wing slides into water.'' Wow.

[[Page E210]]

       Arthur Ruhl died in 1935 and his files were packed into 
     boxes that went into storage for more than 60 years. I 
     recently came into possession of his papers, which include 
     both articles for Collier's, three letters from Orville 
     Wright, and a note from Katherine Wright, the brothers' 
     sister, thanking Arthur for some sweet peas he brought to 
     dinner at the Wrights' home on Hawthorne Street in Dayton.

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