On Cheat Mountain

In natty grey and yellow uniforms, four excited, rosy-faced boys from Valley Forge Military Academy boarded one of TWA's Douglas airliners at Camden, N. J. one morning last week. They were going to homes in & around Pittsburgh for Easter vacation. One had been given the air trip by his parents as a reward for high marks. Also on board was Mrs. Meyer C. Ellenstein, wife of the Mayor of Newark, bound for St. Louis to visit a daughter. The plane's hostess was a neat, slight, dark girl of 22 named Nellie Granger. The chief pilot, Otto Ferguson, had been flying since the War. This was his 42nd birthday and his family had arranged a party for him at Kansas City.

Booming along between 3,000 and 4,000 ft., the Sun Racer crossed the Alleghenies in a cold fog. Over the radiotelephone from the airport at Pittsburgh came reassuring word of good visibility below 1,700 ft. Pilot Ferguson listened to the staccato hum of the radio-beacon in his earphones, reported his position as ten miles east of Pittsburgh, said he was coming down to land. Nellie Granger poked her head into the pilot's cabin, asked him what time they would be down. Said Ferguson, "About 10:12." The hostess went aft, saw that the eleven passengers had clasped their safety belts.

At the Pittsburgh airport the minutes ticked by. At 10:33 a TWA plane landed, but it was not the Sun Racer. Soon the air was full of monotonous, unanswered calls: Pittsburgh calling Flight I. . . . Columbus calling Ferguson on Flight I. . . . Camden calling Flight I. . . . Pittsburgh calling Flight I. . . .

Nearly four hours later a woman who lives in the mountains near Uniontown, Pa., and who has the only telephone in her neighborhood, saw a bruised and bloody girl in a torn, singed uniform stumbling up to her door, escorted by a neighbor. The girl gasped that she must use the telephone. She called a number, clutched the instrument for support, steadied her voice when she got an answer. 'Mr. Williams, this is Nellie Granger, hostess on Flight I. The ship crashed and started to burn. . . . Both Otto Ferguson and Lewis [the copilot] were killed. . . . Nine passengers were killed. . . ."

Nellie Granger, registered nurse, insisted on returning to the wreck with mountaineers. Near the smoking debris of the Sun Racer they found still alive the two passengers who had occupied seats Nos. 7 and 11. One was Mrs. Ellenstein, with two broken legs, the other a Cleve-lander named Challinor, whose ankles were shattered. Miss Granger ministered to them as best she could until State troopers arrived. Later, in a hospital, the hostess could not remember exactly what had happened. She thought she had been able to pull the Newark Mayor's wife and Challinor from the cabin before the heat drove her off. Then she floundered through the snowy underbrush until she came upon a muddy road.

Like the crash of American Airlines' Southerner in Arkansas three months ago (TIME, Jan. 27), most major air disasters leave no survivors to tell what happened. Last week it soon became apparent that the three survivors of the Sun Racer could give no 'useful information. The plane had struck the crest of Cheat Mountain on Chestnut Ridge, westernmost of the Allegheny "hogbacks." Cheat Mountain is nearly 40 miles south of Pittsburgh, and Pilot Ferguson was therefore far off his course. TWA officials promptly declared that the Pittsburgh radio beacon, operated by the U. S. Bureau of Air Commerce, must have been out of kilter.

No love has been lost between the Bureau and TWA since TWA's President Jack Frye charged the Bureau with inefficient beacon operation at a Senate subcommittee hearing (TIME, Feb. 24). The Bureau cracked back last week with strong evidence that nothing was wrong with the Pittsburgh beam. An eastbound plane of another line had ridden it into Pittsburgh the same day without trouble. The TWA plane which landed a few minutes after the Sun Racer was due had come in without difficulty. The Bureau itself checked the beam from its own plane as soon as the crash was reported. After TWA had tested the beam, the company retracted its first accusation, pronounced the signals satisfactory.

It appeared that two beacons were in operation at Pittsburgh. The newer one makes it unnecessary for a pilot to cut off the beam signal for voice communication. The Bureau declared it continued operation of the older beacon at the request of TWA which preferred it to the other one.

It seemed impossible that Pilot Ferguson could have been confused by the two beacons since they were broadcast on different wave lengths. If he knew he was lost he gave no sign. Yet the plane was headed north when it struck, whereas it should have been headed west if Pilot Ferguson thought he was on his course. It seemed possible that, gliding down into what he thought was clear air, he glimpsed the trees, veered, tried to climb sharply, could not do so because of ice on the wings. The 400-ft. swath which the plane cut through the trees indicated that the motors were not idling but had been full-gunned. Said Major R. W. Schroeder of the Department of Commerce: "In my opinion the cause of this catastrophe will never be known."

At Valley Forge Military Academy, flags were half-staffed for the four young victims. After two blood transfusions, Mrs. Ellenstein was considered out of danger. Passenger Challinor died of shock and pneumonia after a leg amputation. TWA announced that in recognition for her heroism Hostess Granger would be sent on a West Indies cruise with her aunt, then promoted her to be hostess on the crack coast-to-coast flight, the Sky Chief.

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