Whispering Smith

Jake's very first airplane ride!

I'm a little leery about relaying some things I know, because it would embarrass some folks we all know, or me. I don't mind telling you some of the minor boo-boos I've made, but others I'll have to be in the right frame-of-mind before I'll tell on myself. I suppose I could tell you about some kid things my brother Jake and me did years back.

First thing that comes to mind is when I was about 6 or 7, and Jake was about 5. Though I was the oldest, Jake had more guts then me. I had imagination alright, but more often then not I'd be afraid to try. So, between the two of us we'd come up with some interesting things now and then. One of them was when we designed and built our first experimental aircraft

This all took place towards the end of the big depression, money was tight for Mom and Dad so we didn't have much in the way of store-bought toys to play with. We became pretty experienced in making our own, and some were rather fun. Anyway, we tired of our home-made scooters, and such, and looked around for something else to do.

About this time one of those rare things occurred, an airplane flew over the town, and everyone who heard it looked up. It was way the heck up there, just a bit bigger then a speck, but it droned off into the western horizon and disappeared. Most people watched it go and then went on about their business; but Jake and me got ideas. We hadn't had a real close-up look at an airplane, only pictures from magazines and such, and airfoils and things of that nature were beyond our comprehension. But two eager young minds can overcome such things and we set to locating materials for our very own airplane. Finding a warped plank, some rusty nails, a couple of old orange crates, and a few pickets from the neighbors fence, we were in the airplane building business.

A couple of hours or so later we had the thing looking like a real-airplane, at least to our tyro minds. Dads hand-saw was a bit duller and we had a sliver or two, but there was our very own airplane. The plank was the keel, with one orange crate turned upside down and nailed to the front. The other crate was nailed bottom down for the cockpit. Two pickets were nailed on each side for wings, each forming a triangle. We used a big cardboard box to skin the wings. Two other pickets were nailed on the back for horizontal stabilizers (though we didn't know that's what they were called), and two others made another triangle for the tail, which was also skinned with cardboard. After taking turns at static flight for an hour or so we got bored with it and went back to our scooters.

Like I said before, Jake had the guts and I had the imagination. We were scooting along the sidewalk when I got this inspiration,

'Why not take the roller skate wheels from the scooters and put them on our new airplane?'

Boy was Jake excited. In no time at all we yanked them roller skates from the scooters and had them nailed to the bottom of our plane. Admittedly; they were rather short landing gear, and very close-coupled, but they did work, in a fashion that is. After breaking the rudder off by pushing on it we repaired it, and finding an old clothesline rope we tied it to the front of the plank. Hauling it out to the sidewalk for the test flight proved we had some structural weaknesses and we had to beef it up with some more nails and a piece of rope over the top of the front end for wing supports. Now we had our airplane, and we could fly it all over the neighborhood.

For a couple of days that's what we did all day long, till Mom made us come in for supper. Well; after a couple of days the newness was wearing off and we looked around for other excitement. Jake was for building a tree-house, using the airplane parts. But, I didn't want to tear up a perfectly good airplane for a tree-house, so I talked him out of it. I suggested we chase the chickens instead. This was always great fun, until Mom heard the racket and came out and tanned our fannies. Rubbing sore behinds and sobbing we slunk off to our wood-pile fort and sulked.

It was here that I got my great brain-storm. As our family grew in size Dad had built an addition to the main house, in the form of a lean-to. It sloped down to about five foot or so from the ground, and as luck would have it, Dad had forgot to put away the ladder. As I sat there in the wood-pile I noticed these things and hit on the idea of launching our plane from the roof. I didn't even get to mention the whole idea to Jake before he was up and heading for the plane. Running after him I latched onto the rope and while he steered I pulled. Climbing the ladder I heaved and hauled and soon had the plane up to the eave, but Jake was to puny to lift the tail-end so we could get it on the roof. Giving it some thought I tied the plane off to the top ladder rung and climbed down. Then Jake went up and pulled while I lifted the tail up and over the eave. Rolling it up to the top we turned it around and had it facing back down. Now I said Jake had guts, but he wasn't stupid. When I told him to get in for the test flight, but he balked, saying:

'You're the oldest so you should get to go first'.

I was kind of eager to fly it, but remembering the five foot drop over the edge of the roof I suggested he:

'was the lightest and should give it first shot'.

I wasn't completely stupid myself!

Well, we argued for a few minutes or so, and I was for letting it go by itself. Then Jake had a bravado attack and said:

'What the heck!'

and climbed in. I held onto the rope and when Jake said:

'Let'er go!'

I turned loose. The pitch of the roof was steep and in no-time-at-all the plane was going over the edge. I was yelling:

'Get her up, get her up!',

and Jake was yelling something that Mom would wash his mouth out with soap for. Jake had never had flying lessons, and besides, the plane didn't have any controls except for the rope. It's no wonder his first flight ended in a sorry mess.

I stood there knowing that I shouldn't have let go of the rope, wishing it was still in my hand, and dreaded telling Mom that Jake had died in the plane crash. Sliding on my bottom to the ladder I looked over the edge and saw Jake laying on the ground, very still and all bloody. Hearing the GAW-awful crash outside Mom had come rushing around the side of the house wailing. The sad scene was too much for me and I started bawling and pleading to Mom not to kill me too. Kicking the airplane wreckage aside she scooped Jake up and took him in the house. I climbed down the ladder, bawling real loud, and wished for God to bring Jake back to life.

I sat on the porch step, afraid to go in and look at my dead brother, and wondered how Dad was going to kill me, if Mom didn't do it first. As I sat there sobbing and trying to come up with an alibi for murdering Jake, Mom yelled at me to:

'Come in the house, right this minute!'

I knew I was in for it then, and the only thing that made it bearable was seeing Jake sitting at the kitchen table eating a piece of bread, sticking his grape-jelly tongue out at me. After making my tail sting for a few minutes, Mom made us go to bed for a nap. Laying there in our bed, the sobbing ebbed after a few minutes, and Jake and I tried to figure what we could build from the wreckage.