The Mail

As the golden glories of the 1920's melted down into the lead of crime and corruption, most U. S. citizens felt that the decade had left them at least one clean heritage in which they could take national pride. Bankers might be crooks, industrialists might be common gamblers and gangsters might rule politics but nothing could rob commercial aviation of its honest achievements. In that decade the country learned to fly. Laid were the foundations of an air transport system that became the envy of every foreigner. Even Depression could not wilt this fine new flower of U. S. ingenuity and enterprise.

At the beginning of the decade there was no U. S. aviation industry worth mentioning. The Army and Navy did all the flying. In 1925 the Government awarded its first airmail contract to a private operator. A year later came the Air Commerce Act, and the beginnings of an airway system. Landing fields were hewn out of desert and mountain land. Beacon lights blossomed amid snow-capped peaks. The mail went through, at $3 a pound, with the pilot sitting on a parachute. Now and then, when a certain St. Louis mail pilot came roaring in with capers which today would bring instant dismissal, the Chicago field manager would shout: "Bellies to the ground! Here comes Slim!" A year later "Slim" Lindbergh, having flown solo to

Paris, did not have to worry about aviation company rules and aviation companies did not have to worry about public support. Aviation stocks zoomed. Aviation fortunes zoomed. Never a Big Business, aviation made a noise like Big Business. Great mergers made great headlines: United-Boeing-Rentschler-Deeds-National City versus Curtiss-Wright-Keys-Bancamerica-Blair. Errett Lobban Cord marched into Aviation Corp., took it away from the Harrimans. Postmaster General Brown encouraged the urge to merge, divided the cream of the airmail business among the big companies, froze out the little fellows. But regardless of methods the country had something to crow over--a network of airlines which in ten years had shrunk the U. S. to about one quarter its real size. In 1933 half a million persons were traveling day and night over 27,500 mi. of airways, stopping at 178 different cities. For carrying 7,300,000 Ib. of mail 35,000,000 mi., the operators that year collected $16,500,000 from the Government -- about 60% of their companies' income. Swiftly and suddenly last week President Roosevelt swept away the last remaining glory of the 1920's and consigned it to the nation's junk heap of lost illusions. Through his Postmaster General he ordered the annulment, effective Feb. 19, of each & every one of the Government's 26 domestic airmail contracts. The President said nothing but what he seemed to mean was: "Our air transport system may be a handsome monument but I believe that it, too, is rotten to the core. I am going to clean up the business if I have to kill it first." Then without to-do the President signed an order for the Army to carry the mails "during the present emergency." What precipitated the "present emergency" was the scandalous testimony elicited by the Senate Committee investigating ocean and airmail contracts. In the sworn record of that inquiry were charges of favoritism by Postmaster General Brown in awarding contracts, of collusion by operators in bidding on them. Witnesses had told of the suspicious destruction of some of Mr. Brown's correspondence. The Committee had been openly defied by Airmail Lobbyist William MacCracken in its search for other documents. Not every airline had been tarred with the evidence coming out before the Senate Committee but enough of them had been to make the whole industry look distinctly dirty. The President's clean-up did not bother to separate the eagles from the buzzards.

Flabbergasted operators who never dreamed the Government would take such a drastic step were quick to protest. United Air Lines' suave President Philip G. Johnson: "All our contracts . . . were received in 1926 and 1927 because we were the lowest responsible bidder." Eastern Air Transport's big, bluff President Thomas Bartwell Doe: "No charges have been made against this company. . , ." Small, mild Richard W. Robbins of T. W. A. wired the President: "We feel that we are entitled, as a matter of simple fair play, to be heard. . . ." President Shreve Archer of Northwest Airways announced that his company would go out of business when mail payments stopped. Brawny Lester Draper Seymour, president of Cord's American Airways, which benefited hugely from "General" Brown's contract policy: "Unfortunately there isn't a thing I can think of to say."

To all such professional pleas the White House turned a stony ear. Even the public was ready to believe that the President had acted on good, if secret, information of wrongdoing. Suddenly, however, its allegiance to its hero-worshipped President was put to a terrific strain, when its other No. 1 hero, Charles Augustus Lindbergh (technical adviser of T. W. A.), jumped into the fray with an open telegram to the President. Excerpts:

"Your action . . . affects fundamentally the industry to which I have devoted the last twelve years of my life. . . . Your order of cancellation of all airmail contracts condemns the largest portion of our commercial aviation without a just trial. . . . Unless [the facts] leave no alternative the condemnation of commercial aviation by cancellation of all airmail contracts and the use of the Army on commercial air lines will unnecessarily and greatly damage all American aviation."

A front-page criticism from Col. Lindbergh the White House could not safely ignore. But what Col. Lindbergh and all other mail operators slurred over was a highly significant fact behind the Administration's whole action. All mail contractors had taken part in a conference closed to independents and called by "General" Brown at the Post Office Department in May 1930, at which the airmail map of the U. S. was drawn up. Of that meeting, Superintendent of Airmail Earl Wadsworth wrote in a memorandum: "The Postmaster General expressed the desire to know whether it is going to be possible for the so-called pioneers to agree among themselves as to the territory in which they shall have paramount interest." One reply, by President Harris Hanshue of Western Air Express: "We are willing to do anything within reason to work out the plan rather than go into competitive bidding." On the basis of this conference Postmaster General Brown "froze" the airmail map up tight against outside bidders. Thus, whether an operator came out of the conference with more routes and contracts than he had before, his presence in it alone cast a shadow over the contracts which he had already received.

A brand new Federal statute was used by Postmaster General Farley to cancel all 26 contracts on the suspicion of fraud and collusion. The same law forbids an operator, who loses his contract for these reasons, to carry the mail for five years. Nevertheless if and when the President decides to open the airmail to new contracts, a quick change in the law could clear the way for oldtime operators with clean hands to make fresh bids.

The downfall of big operators sent small independents into rhapsodies of vengeful delight. Paul Braniff of Oklahoma City chirruped jubilantly: "I've been waiting four years for this day. Those birds are getting just what is coming to them." But neither Braniff nor any other independent has now the equipment or the funds to start a transcontinental service. With the exception of Lockheed, practically all high-class transport planes are built by companies affiliated with the present big airmail contractors. It is not impossible that independents who seek to get into the new set-up might be balked by the refusal of manufacturing concerns to supply them with the necessary planes.

No less staggered than the industry and the public by the President's action, was the Army. Within 20 minutes after the executive order was signed, Chief of Staff MacArthur was in conference with Chief of Air Corps Major General Benjamin D. ("Benny") Foulois. After Feb. 19 "Benny" Foulois becomes No. 1 airmailman. To pick from he had some 1,700 planes, of which 800 or 900 are observation or cargo planes, adaptable for mail carrying but not as fast as the new ships flown on most of the airlines. About 100 swift bombers could help out where needed. Certain nonessential air routes were sure to be eliminated from the Army airmail map. There are 1,200 Air Corps pilots, many of whom are eager for the chance to run up their flying time, boost their flying pay. In addition, there are many reserve officers among the regular airline pilots, who could be taken into active duty.

Able as an Army pilot may be, it will be no easy task for him to haul a mail plane over a strange mountain route in a snowstorm, without two-way radio equipment. Quick to point that out was another Army man. Eastern Air's unlucky President Doe, who eloquently wired General MacArthur: "... I wish to offer you every assistance possible in order to prevent disruption of service, and to reduce to a minimum the dangers involved in putting the best of pilots on a new run in bad weather without proper facilities."

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