TRIAL AIRMAIL FLIGHT
Eielson often visited with sourdoughs in the lobby of the Alaska Hotel, where he roomed. Some told outrageous stories, hoping the young cheechako (newcomer) would bite. Among Fairbanksans who became his friends was debonair W. F. “Wrongfont” Thompson, editor of the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner, with whom Ben frequently visited. They talked mostly about aviation.
During winters, most mail in interior Alaska was hauled by dog team, and had been since the 1800s. It was slow and expensive. Eielson thought Alaska’s mail could easily be flown, although no one had flown a plane through the deep cold of an interior winter. Somehow he managed to receive permission from the Post Office Department to make a trial airmail flight from Fairbanks to fifty-eight-mile-distant (by rail) Nenana.
With a borrowed airplane, on February 21, 1923, with the temperature at +5 F., with no wind, he flew 500 pounds of mail and express packages from Fairbanks to Nenana. The flight was recorded in the Congressional Record. References don’t reveal which airplane he flew, or from whom he borrowed it.
THE FARTHEST-NORTH AIRPLANE COMPANY
Ben, with News-Miner editor W. F. Thompson and banker Dick Wood, formed the Farthest-North Airplane Company. They put together enough money to buy a military surplus OX-5-powered Jenny. Wood contributed most of the $750 price of the plane.
Eielson planned to fly the plane commercially—a first in interior Alaska.
The two crates that held the Jenny arrived at Fairbanks July 1, 1923. Eielson and Ira Farnsworth, “the best mechanic in town,” worked at assembling it, with help from Earl Borland, a talented Alaska Road Commission mechanic. They carefully followed the thirty-five pages of directions that arrived with the plane.1
Eielson in the front cockpit of the Ox-5 Jenny NC47358, at Fairbanks. This airplane was purchased for $750 by the Farthest-North Airplane Company, which was formed by Eielson, W. F. Thompson, and Dick Wood. Passenger in the rear cockpit is Mrs. Ladessa Nordale, wearing Ben’s flying helmet and goggles. Circa 1923.
THE JENNY FLIES
Finally, all parts were assembled and adjusted, with oil in the engine, and gas in the tank. On July 4, always a day of celebration in Fairbanks, Ben was billed as “The Greatest Living Flier, the Aerial Daredevil.” The plane was rolled to a spot at the Exposition Park/ball park/race track2 that gave Ben the needed room to take off. He climbed into the rear cockpit, put on his leather helmet, and pulled his goggles into position.
Farnsworth called, “Switch off” (the OX-5 had but one magneto) and Ben repeated. Farnsworth pulled the wooden prop through a few times, turning the engine over and priming the carburetor.
“Switch on,” he called, and Ben turned the magneto switch to on.
The next time Farnsworth pulled the prop through, the OX-5 engine sputtered a few times and stopped. He again pulled the prop through with the switch off. Next time, with the switch on, the engine started and the prop spun while the engine continued to run.
A huge crowd (for Fairbanks) had gathered. Ben allowed the engine to warm. Finally he advanced to full throttle. The OX-5 roared, and the Jenny bounced as it gained speed across the uneven ground and climbed into the Fairbanks sky.
For the next half hour he flew loops, spins, aileron rolls, flew upside down briefly, climbed, stalled, swooped near the ground and climbed noisily, above excited Fairbanksans.
When he landed, the day was still early. He took off and flew toward the fifty-mile-distant riverbank village of Nenana, where he had promised to give a flying demonstration. He followed the railroad tracks that ran between the two towns. His passenger was banker Dick Wood, who, despite prohibition, reportedly settled his nerves with a few shots of white mule before climbing aboard. Flying, after all, was a scary business.
Ben cut across bends in the railroad tracks, lost sight of the tracks, and circled, trying to find them again. Becoming lost was one of his weaknesses as a pilot; it happened with discouraging frequency. He circled for more than an hour, searching, and finally found the tiny riverbank village of Nenana. For $500 from the local citizenry, he performed loops, tailspins, aileron rolls, power dives, and other acrobatics.
He was called “The Flying Professor,” and “Lieutenant Eielson,” and various superlatives in the News-Miner’s report on his day of flying.
President Warren Harding arrived at Fairbanks after driving a golden spike on July 16, 1923, just north of the new Tanana River bridge, symbolizing completion of the Alaska Railroad. Later, on a day at Fairbanks when the temperature reached 94 degrees, Eielson flew his Jenny in a spectacular series of stunts for the President and his party.
COMMERCIAL FLIGHTS FROM FAIRBANKS
That summer of 1923, with the Jenny, Ben Eielson flew passengers for brief flights, and to and from various mines and nearby villages. He flew machine parts to mines. He flew sick people from villages to the Fairbanks hospital. He flew game meat, gold, furs, groceries, and other items. Fairbanksans and regional miners found that air service was quicker, often by days, and often much cheaper, than ground or water transportation in the roadless wilderness-like land surrounding Fairbanks.
Advertising in the News-Miner, he offered, “Flying lessons from the Farthest-North Airplane Company. Your choice of the long course, or the short course! Take a dip in the clouds! Prices to fit all pocketbooks.”
He flew commercial flights to Circle, Brooks (Livengood), Tolovana, Tofty, Stewart Creek, all within a short distance of Fairbanks. He was limited to light loads that would fit into the front cockpit, and by the 150-mile distance he could fly from Fairbanks with the Jenny.
Ben flew the Jenny for 145 hours that summer. Most flights were reported in the News-Miner. By summer’s end various villages and mines surrounding Fairbanks had prepared runways where an airplane could land. Residents were beginning to understand the advantages of air travel.
AIRMAIL FOR ALASKA?
When cold weather came, the Jenny was stored for winter. While flying from Fairbanks that summer, Eielson had written to the Post Office Department in Washington proposing a contract for flying mail from Fairbanks to 300-mile-distant McGrath. In winter, mail between the two places was hauled by dog team, taking up to thirty days. Eielson pointed out that it was a simple flight, easily accomplished in a few hours. The Post Office Department responded with lukewarm bureaucratic double talk.
After all, in winter, mail had been carried by dog teams in Alaska since before the turn of the century. The routes were established, and a considerable business surrounded dog team mail carriers, including mail carrier contracts, sled builders, the sale of tons of dried salmon for dog food. Dog team trails ran all directions in Interior Alaska, with roadhouses spaced roughly every thirty miles where travelers, most of whom used dog teams, could find food, overnight lodging, and facilities for dog care. In addition, there were government-maintained relief cabins on long hauls between roadhouses. Mail team drivers were popular, for with teams of eighteen, twenty, or more dogs, they broke trail in new snow. Other users of the trails often waited for a mail team to go by so they could follow on the broken trail.
Mail dog team drivers annually bid on mail routes. Those awarded contracts for
