90 Years Ago Today - The Southern Cross Arrives At Wigram
Sept 11, 2018 19:56:15 GMT 12
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Post by Dave Homewood on Sept 11, 2018 19:56:15 GMT 12
90 Years Ago Today - the Southern Cross Arrived at Wigram following the first ever Trans-Tasman flight and the first international arrival into New Zealand by air. From the NEW ZEALAND HERALD, 12 SEPTEMBER 1928
SCENE AT THE LANDING.
GREAT ENTHUSIASM.
HUGE CHEERING CROWDS.
GIANT MONOPLANE BUSHED.
WILD EXCITEMENT REIGNS.
AERIAL ESCORT TO GROUND.
[BY TELEGRAPH. —OWN CORRESPONDENT. ] CHRISTCHURCH, Tuesday
The early arrival of the Southern Cross took many hundreds of Christchurch people unawares, but as soon as it became known that the fliers were over Wellington in the early morning there was a hasty scramble for trains, trams and motors by thousands eager to get to the Wigram aerodrome in time for the landing. Breakfast was forgotten, and all eyes wore turned to the north-west for the first glimpses of the machine.
At the aerodrome it is estimated that 30,000 were present, many waiting from about 7.30 o'clock onwards. The escort, which was composed of four Bristol Fighters, was under the command of Captain M. Buckley, of the Permanent Air Force. The other officers who piloted the machines were Captains N. Barlow, K. Hall and W. Harrison. They left the aerodrome at 8.40 a.m., and met the Southern Cross above Amberley at nine o'clock. Captain J. L. Findlav entertained the crowd with some clever and daring "stunts" in the fast little Gloster Grebe machine.
Then, about 9.15, away to the northeast, low down, were sighted five specks. The one in the middle seemed to dominate the others. It was the Southern Cross entering on the last lap of her journey.
A Perfect Landing.
In a moment or two the whole of that huge crowd was straining its gaze at those specks which momentarily became larger. Soon the outlines of the machines could be seen. The four Bristol fighters were piloting the huge machine. One took the lead, and the other three followed behind the Southern Cross.
Soon the low roar of the engines could be heard, the deep note of the triple-engined Southern Cross making the noise of the Bristol fighters puny. As the airmen neared the ground the Southern Cross took the lead and, banking, swooped over the crowd and then swung away to the west, making a circuit of the ground, and enabling everyone in the wildly cheering crowd to see it.
A handkerchief fluttered from the side of the plane. The huge machine then approached the landing ground from the west and touched the earth as gently as a homing bird, to make a perfect landing. Every point of vantage in the city and suburbs was availed of by those who were unable to be present at the aerodrome, and the passage of the machines from the north was eagerly followed in the beautifully clear and bright atmosphere.
Crowd Out of Hand.
After landing, the Southern Cross taxied to one of the large hangars. The crowd, growing wilder in excitement every moment, streamed in the wake of the slow-moving aeroplane, and lost all self-control when the monoplane finally came to rest. In defiance of Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith's own wishes that the machine should not be approached to within 50ft., and disregarding the efforts of police and territorials to hold it back, the crowd mobbed the aeroplane. A group of cheering, yelling young men went to the side of the machine and tried to pull Kingsford Smith out. Kingsford Smith, however, merely put his head out and withdrew into the machine to climb out of the cockpit, followed by Ulm, McWiliiam arid Litchfield.
The crowd thundered out its greetings and the band played "For They Are Jolly Good Fellows," the refrain being taken up with enthusiasm.
The Official Welcome.
Meanwhile Sir K. Heaton Rhodes, M.L.C. (representing the Government), Major T. M. Wilkes (Director of Air .Services), Captain J. L. Findlay (commanding the Wigram aerodrome), the Deputy-Mayor of Christchurch, Mr. D. G. Sullivan, M.P., and Mr. P. R. Climie (of the official party) welcomed the Tasman pioneers.
The first, thing that Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith did on alighting was to light a cigarette and hand one to Flight-Lientenant Ulm. All four men seemed to he affected less than one would have expected by their long ordeal. Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith was carrying a New Zealand mascot, for tied by a string to his arm there was a New Zealand silver fern. Flight-Lieutenant Ulm had a similar leaf on his breast.
When the fliers had been photographed the crowd swept round in an irresistible rush. A mounted constable did his best and managed to go in front of the fliers, who were escorted into the hangar. The crowd, jostling and pushing, its main object being to get a view of the airmen, streamed behind them into the hangar and insisted upon Kingsford Smith and Ulm being hoisted shoulder high. The :airmen took it all in good part, waving and smiling acknowledgments of the cheers.
A "Thorny" Introduction
Thus they were borne toward the waiting cars. Five cars were placed at the disposal of the aviators and the official party to convey them from the aerodrome to the city. The cars were decorated with wattle and fern leaves. However, the crush at the aerodrome was so great that with the exception of Mr. McWilliam it was found impossible to get the airmen away in one of these cars, and they had to be smuggled out in a non-decorated motor.
Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith's introduction to New Zealand flora was a decidedly thorny one. As he was being hoisted from the ground to save him from the enthusiasm of the crowd he was pushed over a rather large and prickly gorse bush. He was lucky in escaping without much damage to himself, and he lost no time in gaining the waiting motor-car.
The crowd still wandered curiously round the aerodrome and cheered uproariously when Mr. McWillliam, the radio operator, was led to his car by Major Wilkes. Mr. Litchfield eventually made his way to town in a furniture van. By now the Southern Cross was surrounded with a guard of mounted police and troopers, who kept the crowd at a distance. The Southern Cross was run into No. 6 hangar at the aerodrome about noon, by which time the crowd had dwindled very considerably. The doors of the hangar are being left open, but the public are not allowed to enter.
Once the aviators had landed the crowd sought souvenirs. Some even tried to scrape small pieces of paint from the Southern Cross. One man secured the most valuable prize—Kingsford Smith's flying helmet. It vanished in the crowd which surged round the airmen as they were carried from the machine. Kingsford Smith does not want the helmet, but he wants very badly a little mascot in the shape of a black cat which was clasped on it. To the airman this is a very valuable mascot and he is offering a reward of £10 if someone will return it to him. He does not want the helmet back, but he will give £10 for the mascot alone.
It was a smiling Kingsford Smith who appeared at a window of the United Service Hotel at 10.10 a.m. The crowd had been waiting for a while, and the atmosphere became tense at the sight of the uniform, with its long row of medal ribbons. For a few minutes there was a shade of uncertainty. The airman looked a little fairer and slighter than his pictures had suggested. He waved a hand.
"A Bad Night."
"Come down on the balcony," the crowd shouted, -- and the call was too cordial and insistent to be resisted. The two leaders stepped out to the front rail with their hostess, Mrs. Boulton. When the cheering had subsided Kingsford Smith put his hands to his mouth and shouted: "I didn't know there were so many people in Christchurch. You ought to have seen them at the aerodrome. Thank you very much for your welcome. We are glad to be here, but, by Jove, we had a bad night, and coming through this morning, we have got hero now. Charlie and I like the look of your city, and we're going to stay here for a while."
"Where are the other two:" asked a voice. "We are waiting for them," said the airman. "What a crowd," remarked Mrs. Boulton. "We can hardly ask them in for a drink." "My hostess is sorry," said Kingsford Smith, "that she can't ask you all in for a drink "
Tried to Land on Sunday.
"We tried to land here on a Sunday, but couldn't make it," said the airman, in reply to some other interjection. There was a roar of laughter at the remark and a humorous look on the aviator's face as he made it.
"So you got Archer's cable,", said a man.
"Oh, yes." was the smiling response. The cheers that were given for the aviators did credit to the goodwill of the crowd, and when they broke into musical honours, somebody on the balcony remarked, "Christchurch is waking up properly."
A stir below announced the arrival of somebody else connected with the Southern Cross, It was Mr. Litchfield, the navigator, who came out shyly, and was pushed forward by Flight-Lieutenant Ulm. With his hand affectionately on his shoulder, Ulm said: "This is the fellow who found the way."
A Well-earned Rest.
There were more cheers. Then a group of three posed for a moving picture.
"Where's McWilliam?" the crowd asked.
Kingsford Smith had asked the same question himself, but he referred to him as " Mac." "Where's Mac?" somebody else shouted.
"Dead in the crowd, perhaps," said Kingsford Smith, "but he's a New Zealander, he can look after himself here, I'm sure."
At last the trio waved good-bye and moved indoors. It was one of the first opportunities evidently that they had had for a quiet word.
"Fourteen hours twenty-five minutes," said Kingsford Smith to Ulm. "Marvellous time, considering we did 1650 miles."
Later the four members of the Southern Cross crew retired until 5 p.m. for a well earned rest.
SCENE AT THE LANDING.
GREAT ENTHUSIASM.
HUGE CHEERING CROWDS.
GIANT MONOPLANE BUSHED.
WILD EXCITEMENT REIGNS.
AERIAL ESCORT TO GROUND.
[BY TELEGRAPH. —OWN CORRESPONDENT. ] CHRISTCHURCH, Tuesday
The early arrival of the Southern Cross took many hundreds of Christchurch people unawares, but as soon as it became known that the fliers were over Wellington in the early morning there was a hasty scramble for trains, trams and motors by thousands eager to get to the Wigram aerodrome in time for the landing. Breakfast was forgotten, and all eyes wore turned to the north-west for the first glimpses of the machine.
At the aerodrome it is estimated that 30,000 were present, many waiting from about 7.30 o'clock onwards. The escort, which was composed of four Bristol Fighters, was under the command of Captain M. Buckley, of the Permanent Air Force. The other officers who piloted the machines were Captains N. Barlow, K. Hall and W. Harrison. They left the aerodrome at 8.40 a.m., and met the Southern Cross above Amberley at nine o'clock. Captain J. L. Findlav entertained the crowd with some clever and daring "stunts" in the fast little Gloster Grebe machine.
Then, about 9.15, away to the northeast, low down, were sighted five specks. The one in the middle seemed to dominate the others. It was the Southern Cross entering on the last lap of her journey.
A Perfect Landing.
In a moment or two the whole of that huge crowd was straining its gaze at those specks which momentarily became larger. Soon the outlines of the machines could be seen. The four Bristol fighters were piloting the huge machine. One took the lead, and the other three followed behind the Southern Cross.
Soon the low roar of the engines could be heard, the deep note of the triple-engined Southern Cross making the noise of the Bristol fighters puny. As the airmen neared the ground the Southern Cross took the lead and, banking, swooped over the crowd and then swung away to the west, making a circuit of the ground, and enabling everyone in the wildly cheering crowd to see it.
A handkerchief fluttered from the side of the plane. The huge machine then approached the landing ground from the west and touched the earth as gently as a homing bird, to make a perfect landing. Every point of vantage in the city and suburbs was availed of by those who were unable to be present at the aerodrome, and the passage of the machines from the north was eagerly followed in the beautifully clear and bright atmosphere.
Crowd Out of Hand.
After landing, the Southern Cross taxied to one of the large hangars. The crowd, growing wilder in excitement every moment, streamed in the wake of the slow-moving aeroplane, and lost all self-control when the monoplane finally came to rest. In defiance of Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith's own wishes that the machine should not be approached to within 50ft., and disregarding the efforts of police and territorials to hold it back, the crowd mobbed the aeroplane. A group of cheering, yelling young men went to the side of the machine and tried to pull Kingsford Smith out. Kingsford Smith, however, merely put his head out and withdrew into the machine to climb out of the cockpit, followed by Ulm, McWiliiam arid Litchfield.
The crowd thundered out its greetings and the band played "For They Are Jolly Good Fellows," the refrain being taken up with enthusiasm.
The Official Welcome.
Meanwhile Sir K. Heaton Rhodes, M.L.C. (representing the Government), Major T. M. Wilkes (Director of Air .Services), Captain J. L. Findlay (commanding the Wigram aerodrome), the Deputy-Mayor of Christchurch, Mr. D. G. Sullivan, M.P., and Mr. P. R. Climie (of the official party) welcomed the Tasman pioneers.
The first, thing that Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith did on alighting was to light a cigarette and hand one to Flight-Lientenant Ulm. All four men seemed to he affected less than one would have expected by their long ordeal. Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith was carrying a New Zealand mascot, for tied by a string to his arm there was a New Zealand silver fern. Flight-Lieutenant Ulm had a similar leaf on his breast.
When the fliers had been photographed the crowd swept round in an irresistible rush. A mounted constable did his best and managed to go in front of the fliers, who were escorted into the hangar. The crowd, jostling and pushing, its main object being to get a view of the airmen, streamed behind them into the hangar and insisted upon Kingsford Smith and Ulm being hoisted shoulder high. The :airmen took it all in good part, waving and smiling acknowledgments of the cheers.
A "Thorny" Introduction
Thus they were borne toward the waiting cars. Five cars were placed at the disposal of the aviators and the official party to convey them from the aerodrome to the city. The cars were decorated with wattle and fern leaves. However, the crush at the aerodrome was so great that with the exception of Mr. McWilliam it was found impossible to get the airmen away in one of these cars, and they had to be smuggled out in a non-decorated motor.
Squadron-Leader Kingsford Smith's introduction to New Zealand flora was a decidedly thorny one. As he was being hoisted from the ground to save him from the enthusiasm of the crowd he was pushed over a rather large and prickly gorse bush. He was lucky in escaping without much damage to himself, and he lost no time in gaining the waiting motor-car.
The crowd still wandered curiously round the aerodrome and cheered uproariously when Mr. McWillliam, the radio operator, was led to his car by Major Wilkes. Mr. Litchfield eventually made his way to town in a furniture van. By now the Southern Cross was surrounded with a guard of mounted police and troopers, who kept the crowd at a distance. The Southern Cross was run into No. 6 hangar at the aerodrome about noon, by which time the crowd had dwindled very considerably. The doors of the hangar are being left open, but the public are not allowed to enter.
Once the aviators had landed the crowd sought souvenirs. Some even tried to scrape small pieces of paint from the Southern Cross. One man secured the most valuable prize—Kingsford Smith's flying helmet. It vanished in the crowd which surged round the airmen as they were carried from the machine. Kingsford Smith does not want the helmet, but he wants very badly a little mascot in the shape of a black cat which was clasped on it. To the airman this is a very valuable mascot and he is offering a reward of £10 if someone will return it to him. He does not want the helmet back, but he will give £10 for the mascot alone.
It was a smiling Kingsford Smith who appeared at a window of the United Service Hotel at 10.10 a.m. The crowd had been waiting for a while, and the atmosphere became tense at the sight of the uniform, with its long row of medal ribbons. For a few minutes there was a shade of uncertainty. The airman looked a little fairer and slighter than his pictures had suggested. He waved a hand.
"A Bad Night."
"Come down on the balcony," the crowd shouted, -- and the call was too cordial and insistent to be resisted. The two leaders stepped out to the front rail with their hostess, Mrs. Boulton. When the cheering had subsided Kingsford Smith put his hands to his mouth and shouted: "I didn't know there were so many people in Christchurch. You ought to have seen them at the aerodrome. Thank you very much for your welcome. We are glad to be here, but, by Jove, we had a bad night, and coming through this morning, we have got hero now. Charlie and I like the look of your city, and we're going to stay here for a while."
"Where are the other two:" asked a voice. "We are waiting for them," said the airman. "What a crowd," remarked Mrs. Boulton. "We can hardly ask them in for a drink." "My hostess is sorry," said Kingsford Smith, "that she can't ask you all in for a drink "
Tried to Land on Sunday.
"We tried to land here on a Sunday, but couldn't make it," said the airman, in reply to some other interjection. There was a roar of laughter at the remark and a humorous look on the aviator's face as he made it.
"So you got Archer's cable,", said a man.
"Oh, yes." was the smiling response. The cheers that were given for the aviators did credit to the goodwill of the crowd, and when they broke into musical honours, somebody on the balcony remarked, "Christchurch is waking up properly."
A stir below announced the arrival of somebody else connected with the Southern Cross, It was Mr. Litchfield, the navigator, who came out shyly, and was pushed forward by Flight-Lieutenant Ulm. With his hand affectionately on his shoulder, Ulm said: "This is the fellow who found the way."
A Well-earned Rest.
There were more cheers. Then a group of three posed for a moving picture.
"Where's McWilliam?" the crowd asked.
Kingsford Smith had asked the same question himself, but he referred to him as " Mac." "Where's Mac?" somebody else shouted.
"Dead in the crowd, perhaps," said Kingsford Smith, "but he's a New Zealander, he can look after himself here, I'm sure."
At last the trio waved good-bye and moved indoors. It was one of the first opportunities evidently that they had had for a quiet word.
"Fourteen hours twenty-five minutes," said Kingsford Smith to Ulm. "Marvellous time, considering we did 1650 miles."
Later the four members of the Southern Cross crew retired until 5 p.m. for a well earned rest.