Experiments in Flight: The Albatross

Newspaper illustration of newspapermen viewing experimental glider flights from the base of a sand dune.

Chicago Tribune, September 9, 1896

In the summer of 1896, Octave Chanute and his team of inventors and early flight enthusiasts traveled from Chicago to the Indiana Dunes. Octave chose the area to test gliders because of the consistent lake winds and soft landings supplied by sand. Their first camp was on the lakeshore at Miller on land owned by Drusilla Carr, near today's Lake Street Beach in Marquette Park. After spending two weeks there, they returned to Chicago to reconfigure gliders and prepare for more tests.

They returned to the region a couple months later for more experiments, this time spending a month camped out on the lakeshore. To avoid curious locals, they chose a more secluded location known as "Dune Park" where today's Port of Indiana sits. This area, also known as the "Central Dunes," was a location where Dr. Henry Cowles performed some of his seminal research in ecology.

Octave and his team's experiments represent a time of curiosity, trial, and error. One particularly interesting test involved a "flying machine" built by William Paul Butusov. Dubbed "the Albatross" for its likeness to the giant bird, this wooden-framed contraption captured the imagination reporters who printed fanticiful depictions of its "flight." Check out this story from the Chicago Tribune from September 27th, 1896:

 

Octave and his team's camp in Dune Park, Indiana.

Library of Congress, Octave Chanute Papers

SHIP FAILS TO FLY

Albatross and Inventor Paul Drop Sixty-five Feet.

END IS MADE OF TESTS.

Experimenters Prepare to Abandon Dune Park Camp.

MAY RETURN NEXT SUMMER.

Octave Chanute Has Future Improvements in View

RECORDS OF AERROPLANE DEVICES.

 

After waiting for almost one month for a favorable wind to test his “Albatross” flying machine, William Paul, the inventor, yesterday afternoon risked his life, his airship, and his dream of fame and fortune in an effort to sail among the clouds.

It was the old story of Darius Green, and that he escaped without serious, if not fatal injury, is a miracle. The machine fell sixty-five feet and was badly wrecked, and last night fame, fortune, and success seemed more elusive than ever.

Thus endeth the season’s experiments at Dune Park, Ind., and today Octave Chanute and his party will break camp, the “Albatross” and the aeroplane flying machine will be packed into boxes for winter and the camp outfit will be brought back to Chicago by boat.

Until yesterday morning no wind has blown from the north for two weeks. As the frame chute at the top of the hilltop from which the “Albatross” was launched faced due north, nothing but a straight north wind, and that blowing at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, met the demands of the inventor for his experiment. In the afternoon a brisk wind set in from the right direction. The experimenters concluded their long wait was to be rewarded.

Before the big aircraft was carried to the top of the hill and put upon the ways, however, a quarter wind [obliquely blowing] had set in, but it was decided to let the “Albatross” make a trip, anyhow.

 

The experimental flight team readies the Albatross atop a dune.

Library of Congress, Octave Chanute Papers

Lifted on the Ways

It required eight men to put the machine upon the ways. As the wind was increasing momentarily, it was found necessary to hold the craft down with ropes. Mr. Paul climbed into the frame hull, adjusted a rubber lifebuoy around his neck, as if expecting to encounter water. A lifeboat on the beach was manned by Will Avery and a fishing smack sailed around near shore to give help if the machine fell into the water.

At 3 o’clock the man in the airship shouted “All off!” The ropes were cut as the “bird” slid down to the end of the chute and surprised the spectators by stopping, as if counting the cost of a swoop. The quartering wind had proved sufficient to arrest descent by friction of the runners against the off slide.

Again the craft was placed at the top of the ways. Ropes were fastened to the bottom and four men took positions to accelerate the start with a hearty pull. The wind for a moment seemed not to come from the east and all felt sure that a moment big with consequences for inventor William Paul was near at hand.

“Once again—let her go!” sang out the inventor.

 

The Albatross glider perched atop a dune overlooking Lake Michigan.

Library of Congress, Octave Chanute Papers

Albatross is Off.

A chop at the anchor rope, a swift scoot down the ways, and the Albatross was off. It was a plunge into empty space with sixty-nine feet between Mr. Paul and the level of the sandy beach ahead of him.

For an instant it seemed that his craft was making for the beach. The next instant a gust straight from the east hit the Albatross and its mind seemed quickly altered. The bulk of wood and canvas tilted perceptibly as the starboard wing caught the wind. The head turned to the west.

Mr. Paul shifted his weight to hold the craft for the water. He was not quick enough. Already the machine was out of its course and a plaything for the adverse current. The momentum acquired was increased by the wind striking the craft now squarely aft. It darted like a hawk after quarry, wheeling still more upon its course until it ran almost for the hill again. Not more than a hundred feet had been traversed to the west until the Albatross dropped rapidly, beat into a clump of trees, and fell. The craft rested upon its left side with the left wing shattered, a number of ribs smashed, and other damages.

 

Newspaper illustration depicting inventor William Paul Butusov.

Chicago Tribune, September 12, 1896

Paul Saves His Neck

Paul was not thrown off his feet, owing to the side rails, which he clutched with desperate energy, but he sustained a bad cut over his left eye and several bruises.

As there was no time left to put the machine in shape again it was then dismantled and packed for shipping.

The inventor does not seem to have lost faith in his machine. He says the experiment was unsuccessful because of the quartering northeast wind, and that but for this he would have made a flight to astonish the world. The fatal gust was at right angles to the course the machine was holding just before the drop.

In the morning all previous records were broken by Mr. Avery upon the Chanute double-decked aeroplane. With the aid of a new device for steering he made a flight of 489 feet, landing in the lake, where the water took him up to his waist. This was the only flight made where the operator reached the lake. It is said to be more than twice the greatest length scored by Lilienthal, and is claimed to be 100 feet ahead of the world’s record for aeroplane coasting. Mr. Paul and Dr. H. T. Ricketts also scored some pretty flights with the same machine.

It is the purpose of Mr. Chanute to fit up a flatboat with a chute next summer from which experiments may be carried on in the lake with the wind from any quarter and with less danger to the operator.”