First Flight

The gargantuan orange-peel doors of the Goodyear-Zeppelin dock at Akron slid open one sunny afternoon last week and the biggest dirigible ever built moved slowly out, stern first, pushed by the mobile stub mooring-mast at her bow. For this moment of ideal weather officials of Navy and Goodyear-Zeppelin Corp. had waited for days. The low hills which make a natural amphitheatre of Akron's municipal airport were black with automobiles and spectators. The Akron was to fly! . . .

Crewmen go to their stations within the ship's envelope, each performing his first duty of searching a prescribed area for stowaways. Then, with the ship moored in midfield, the first flight guests climb up the little stairway into the control cabin: Secretary of the Navy Charles Francis Adams, Assistant Secretary for Aeronautics David Sinton Ingalls, Rear Admiral William Adger Moffett, President Paul Weeks Litchfield of Goodyear-Zepplin, his vice president Designer Karl Arnstein, and many another. In all there are 113 persons aboard, more than a dirigible has ever carried.

Leaning from the control car Lieut.-Commander Herbert V. ("Doc") Wiley, executive officer, who looks astonishingly like Herbert Hoover, speaks into a microphone leading to loudspeakers on the mooring-mast: "Everybody weigh off!" The ground crew of 250 slack their lines a trifle that officers may gauge the vessel's trim. Water ballast spills out here and there until the big ship rides evenly. Then from Commander Wiley: "Stand by to up ship!"--and his work for the moment is over. Within the control car he motions to his skipper, Lieut.-Commander Charles Emery ("Rosie") Rosendahl, that all is ready. The commander leans from a window, megaphone to lips, and shouts two momentous words: "Up ship!"

A band plays "Anchors Aweigh." There is a mighty cheer from the ground crew. a noisy chorus of tooting horns from the automobiles on the hillsides as the Akron, unleashed for the first time, slowly rises as a free balloon, the blue flag of the Secretary of the Navy hanging from her control car, the U. S. ensign flapping at her stern. At about 500 ft. the two stern engines are started and the ship plows slowly into the west wind. Two more engines, then two more, until all eight Maybachs are driving the Akron over Portage Lakes and over the city of Akron where flowers are dropped upon the city hospital for an injured officer of the Akron's staff. Thence the airship heads toward Cleveland, first dipping her nose in salute over the home of Assistant Secretary Ingalls at Chagrin Falls. The ship flies on to complete a 125-mi. circuit.

Aboard the vessel matters run smoothly. No attempt is made to speed the motors or submit the craft to stress; this is the most elementary of a series of tests. The radioman flashes to the White House the Akron's first message, in reply to a radiogram signed "Lou Henry Hoover" who christened the ship (TIME, Aug. 10). A dinner of broiled chicken, salad, ice cream, cake and coffee is served from the galley. President Paul Weeks Litchfield does not eat. Says he later: "I was too excited. I don't get to ride in the world's largest air ship every day."

At the end of three hours, near dusk, a radio officer at the airport hears that the Akron is about to return. The lounging ground crew springs into action. A large cloth panel with the figures "63" is spread on the ground, tells Commander Rosen dahl the ground temperature. Another panel, striped, is spread several hundred feet "upwind" from the mooring mast and marked by two lantern-swinging grounds men. A smoke candle is lighted to show the direction of the ground wind. Presently there is a drone of engines from the east, then the wink of two white bow lights, two green starboard lights, two red port lights, flashing rhythmically. (There are white stern lights too.) The ship comes in low, hesitates, reconsiders, flies on and returns a few minutes later. Searchlights and floodlights are switched on. The Akron hovers cautiously low, drops landing lines which are seized by the ground crew who "run away" with them to check the ship's momentum. When the bow pokes over the landing panel, the nose rope is dropped, attached to the cable from the mooring mast. The cable drums are started. In a few minutes the Akron has been dragged up to the mast, her pointed snout snugly clamped into the cup of the mooring-mast.

Everyone is jubilant. Enthusiastic statements are issued. Then the flight guests are whisked away to dinner at Secretary Ingalls' home. . . .

In the next few days three more flights were made, at night and in the rain. Be fore the Navy officially accepts or rejects the Akron she will have undergone at least 75 hr. of trials, including a rigorous test of turning radius, a speed test with wide open motors, a climbing test, a 48-hr, flight to recapitulate all conditions.

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