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by Peter van Alfen
On a bitterly cold December day in 1903 at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Orville Wright took to the air in a craft that he had hand-built with his brother Wilbur. Mankind's first powered flight was not long-lived, only 12 seconds, but it did offer an answer to a question that had teased technical minds for millennia: how can we soar like the birds? With the Wright brothers' emphatic response the first century of aviation—a word built upon the Latin word for "bird," avis—officially began.


Today the technical progress in aircraft and flight over the last 100 years is taken for granted. We think nothing of boarding, along with hundreds of other passengers, monstrous Boeing 747s, that weigh over 400 tons at take-off, and flying non-stop to destinations on the other side of the world. Jet air-travel, with its movies, magazines, and piped-in music, is now so commonplace that we freely complain about the uncomfortable seats and bad food on journeys that last hours, rather than days or even months. But this ease of air travel was a long time coming; the first all-metal, multi-engine airliners, like the 10-seat Ford Trimotor, were not introduced until the late-1920s; the first pressurized airliners, the Boeing 307 Stratoliners, that could fly "overweather," were introduced in the early 1940s; jet airliners would not see regular service until the mid-1950s, and only in the late 1960s did jets all but fully replace older piston-powered craft, like the enduring Lockheed Constellation, on national and international routes.


Notable developments in aviation were often fueled by war, such as the race between the Axis and Allied powers in World War II to develop jet-powered planes, a race that the Germans won with the Messerschmitt 262, the first jet used in combat. But during the Golden Age of Aviation, the 1910s through the 1930s, it was the bravery of singular men and women pushing the envelope of possibility that encouraged great strides in airframe and power plant development. This was the age of aviation "firsts": the first to cross the Atlantic Ocean non-stop west to east (Charles Lindbergh in the Spirit of St. Louis, 1927); the first to cross non-stop east to west against the winds (Baron Ehrenfried Günther Freiherr von Hünefeld, a.k.a. "The Crazy Baron," Hermann Köhl, and James C. Fitzmaurice in the Bremen, 1928); the first woman to fly the Atlantic (Amelia Earhart, first as a passenger on the seaplane Friendship in 1928, then as a solo pilot in 1932); the first flight over the North Pole (Admiral Richard E. Byrd and Floyd Bennett in a Fokker Trimotor named Josephine Ford, 1926); the first to fly over the South Pole (Admiral Richard E. Byrd and a crew of four, in a trimotor named for Floyd Bennett who died in 1928 of pneumonia while helping to salvage the Bremen along with Charles Lindbergh, 1929). This was also the age of barnstorming and air races, the "Olympiads of the Air."


Although lumbering airships were invented before the Wright brothers' first flight, they benefited tremendously from the subsequent technology developed for airplanes. For a while in the 1920s and 1930s these craft seemed to hold the key to speedy and comfortable long-distance air travel that the airplanes of the day could not provide; so important were these massive aircraft—some over 800 ft. long—that the spire atop the Empire State Building was designed to be a mooring post. For over a decade, air ships like Germany's famed Graf Zeppelin, made hundreds of trans-Atlantic crossings carrying thousands of passengers in the type of comfort found only on board ocean-going vessels. Airships also had their non-commercial "firsts," such as Lincoln Ellsworth's polar crossings. The future of the airship, however, came to an abrupt end on May 6, 1937, when the Hindenburg burst into flames while mooring at Lakehurst, New Jersey, having just finished a trans-Atlantic crossing; 36 people perished.

During the Golden Age and even after, aviation milestones were celebrated with tickertape parades and medals commissioned from well-known artists, a commission often solicited by Congress. At times too the airlines and manufacturers would issue souvenir medals to draw attention to the latest technological advances. But in recent decades, fewer and fewer aviation medals have been issued, a sign not so much of a decline in medallic art, but an indication of just how routine, even ordinary aviation has become. This in itself is a remarkable achievement considering the inauspicious beginnings of the airplane a century ago at Kitty Hawk.




