A web log, an æthereal scrap-book if you will, with a somewhat vintage flavour. News items, occurrences, experiences, thoughts and opinions related to Victoriana through to Fifties Americana can all be found here.
Huzzah! We've finally made it in to 2024 (just!) with this latest item of news, featuring a modern aviation pacesetter and someone who will certainly go on to do great things in the industry - 21-year-old female pilot Ellie Carter.
Miss Carter first made the headlines four years ago when, on her 17th birthday, she became Britain's youngest-ever licensed woman pilot. Flying has obviously been in her blood for much longer, though, judging by the story related in the accompanying articles about her run-in with the USAF authorities at the age of nine(!) not to mention her subsequent aeronautical experiences that led to her record-breaking qualification.
Now another record is set to be broken by this committed aviatrix, as I am delighted to see that she has been chosen to be the first person - and the first-ever woman - to fly a newly-completed [replica] of a workhorse aircraft of the First World War, the Sopwith 1½-Strutter, built over the last 23 years by a team of enthusiasts in East Lothian. Even better the B.B.C. have approached her with the intention of making a documentary about her life and this ground-breaking flight, which is due to be aired later this year. Definitely something I will be looking out for in the schedules!
source - Picryl French-built Sopwith 1½-Strutter at Air Service Production Centre No. 2, Romorantin Aerodrome, France, 1918
As ever with this type of young, dedicated individual it is wonderful to see the obvious, palpable enthusiasm for her chosen calling and her clear desire to make a life's career out of aviation. At the same time her down-to-earth (if you'll pardon the expression!) attitude is equally admirable and, in conjunction with her degree in Aeronautics & Astronautics (which if she hasn't already achieved at the time of writing, I'm sure she will!) will keep her in good stead as a worthy ambassador for women and young girls in aviation and STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) in general. She reminds me very much of another lady pilot (about whom I have also previously blogged), Tracey Curtis-Taylor; I am sure that Ellie Carter will follow a similar path and that this will not be the last time she appears on these pages, or in the annals of aviation history. To borrow an expression familiar to those original 1½-Strutter pilots - "soft landings and no dud engines!"
Back to Hawker Hurricanes again for this next story, featuring the extraordinary recovery of eight airframes that have been found buried in woodland just outside Kyiv, Ukraine. While the almost-too-good-to-be-true story of Spitfires and Mosquitoes buried in Burma a few years ago turned out to be just that, with no physical evidence of such aircraft being found, this tangible discovery - as first reported back in July 2023 - is far more promising and all the more remarkable since it is occurring in the middle of an active warzone.
Hawker Hurricane II ’11 white’ recreation, on display in ‘Victory Park’, Museum of the Great Patriotic War, Poklonnaya Hill, Moscow, Russia.
That has not deterred the members of the National Aviation Museum of Ukraine who took advantage of an unexploded bomb disposal nearby to locate the remains of the eight aircraft and begin excavations, with the aim to retrieve as many parts as possible in order to hopefully recreate one complete aeroplane. How far they have progressed in the intervening eight months it is not possible to say; the museum is unsurprisingly closed for the duration so I expect work is severely limited but it would be nice to think that the parts could eventually be reassembled into a full-scale display once all the unpleasantness is over.
A Hawker Hurricane Mark IIB, Z5253 'GA-25' of No. 134 Squadron RAF taxies out past Russian sentries at Vaenga, near Murmansk, October 1941. Several British squadrons were originally sent out to train Russian pilots before handing the Hurricanes over to them.
I take my hat off to the museum's volunteers, who must have been working under immense pressure - and probably not a little danger - to get these relics to safety and so begin the job of sorting through the parts needed to create a complete Hurricane. Cleaning, repairing and cataloguing are strenuous undertakings at the best of times but what it must be like with the evils of war hanging over you is almost unimaginable. That these men are driven to rescue these long-abandoned machines, with the desire to return one to period condition in honour of the brave [Ukrainian] pilots who flew them on the Eastern Front during the German invasion of Russia, is more than admirable and I wish them every success in their endeavour (when the situation permits) - stay safe, gentlemen!
We resume normal service now on Eclectic Ephemera with this heart-warming story from Washington state in America and which initially appeared in June 2023. Proof, if proof were needed, that age is no barrier to friendship - especially if interests are shared as in the case of the two gentlemen who form the subject of the article.
Serendipitous events like the one which brought this pair of enthusiasts together are the sort of thing that make the world seem a little bit of a brighter place, where two people at the opposite ends of the age spectrum can meet by chance and hit it off in such a splendid manner beneficial to them both. Quite apart from the obvious rapport that they enjoy Mr Sage gets to pass on his extensive knowledge on the subject of Model A Fords (see below for an example) to the younger generation and so ensure its ongoing perpetuation while Mr Mpare learns valuable skills - both of the life and the mechanical variety - that he has already put to good use building his very own Model A from parts sourced by the Model A Ford Club of America no less! It is simply joyous to read of how an unexpected meeting has led to this firm friendship, the passing of the torch of experience, the obvious enthusiasm shown by both men for their common interest. It goes to show that one never knows what Fate has in store for us and that unlooked-for opportunities should be embraced whenever possible - who can tell where they might lead? Once again it is also splendid to read of another "old soul" - one with a nonetheless very mature outlook on past, present and future, who understands and appreciates the importance of traditional know-how such as this and the rewards he has gained as a result - the companionship of a responsible and grounded gentleman with a lifetime of experience, which in and of itself can be of great benefit to a teenager just starting out in life (a fact that young Mr Mpare and his family clearly appreciates) and, if that wasn't enough, his own antique motor car built with his own hands! Well done and congratulations to Messrs Sage and Mpare, indeed! May their friendship continue to blossom and may many more Model A's ultimately get back on the road as a result.
Nearly 14 years ago now (yikes, where on earth has the time gone?!) I reported on the then-new owners of the classic British motoring manufacturer Alvis and their simply wonderful scheme to put some of their vintage models back into [limited] series production at their workshop in Kenilworth, Warwickshire - including the stunning 1935 Bertelli Sports Coupé and 1938 Lancefield Concealed Hood in addition to the original Vanden Plas. Since that time Alvis have also broadened out into some of their post-war models such as the Park Ward Drophead Coupé and the Graber Coupé/Cabriolet but for their most recent project (a definite one-off this time) they have returned to their pre-war motorsport days thanks to the remarkable rediscovery of a truly unique, much-storied racing car that very nearly ended up on a scrapheap - the 1927 Alvis Grand Prix.
With driver George Duller in the cockpit, Number 2 Alvis is readied for the 1927 Junior Car Club 200 Miles race at Brooklands
The Alvis GP caused a stir right from the start thanks to its then-innovative mechanical layout, being front-wheel drive at a time when almost all cars, both for road and racing, were driven from the rear. But this was not its most notable technical advance - the front axle, instead of being the solid variety (that is, connecting the wheels with a rigid beam), was composed of four independently-mounted elliptical leaf springs allowing for an equally remarkable eight-cylinder, 1.5-litre supercharged engine to be placed lengthways behind the gearbox thus giving the car an unusual (for the time) long-nosed appearance.
Alvises Numbers 1 & 2 (bottom centre), their distinctive low-slung stance and long bonnets contrasting noticeably with the other cars', head off at the start of the 1927 JCC 200 Miles at Brooklands, October 1927
Two cars were produced with the intention of both being entered in eligible events of the period, however the advanced engine in particular suffered from reliability issues right from the beginning. After both failed to make the start of the 1927 British Grand Prix at Brooklands on the 1st October, they took part in the 1927 Junior Car Club 200 Miles race at the same track two weeks later; both cars qualified well - the Number 2 car lapping in excess of 120mph in the hands of experienced racer George Duller to start second, while the similarly proficient Maurice Harvey would be third on the grid in car Number 1. Initially setting an impressive pace (Number 2 being in the lead at the start before dropping back to third due to a spark plug change) both cars experienced crippling mechanical failures, with Duller having to retire with a shattered conrod (below, now on display at Alvis' in-house museum) on the 52nd lap.
Having removed the engine to diagnose the problem back at the factory, Alvis kept Number 2 in storage for over 10 years, never to be reunited with its original powerplant. In the late 1930s they decided to cut their losses and sell the car to Coventry-based scrap merchants Roach Brothers, with the firm instruction that it had to be broken up and not sold on. Thankfully someone at Roach Bros. completely ignored this order and sold the car intact to Bill Pitcher, a motorcycle dealer and Alvis enthusiast from Rugby. Pitcher's intention was to convert the car to rear-wheel drive - he sourced a 1929 Alvis TT or Le Mans engine and gearbox for the purpose but ended up having to sell the car on in the mid-'50s following the failure of his business. Another FWD Alvis enthusiast, Nic Davies, picked up the reins and toured the world with the GP before embarking on a full-scale restoration project in 1990. It took until 2003 for the car to be in a condition to run under its own power for the first time in nearly three-quarters of a century; three years after that it was acquired by current owner of Alvis Alan Stote and Tony Cox, an authority on FWD Alvises.
It has taken a further 17 years, with many an advance in CAD and manufacturing techniques to help along the way, but now I am delighted to see that Alvis GP Number 2 has been fully restored to 1927 racing trim - including a newly-built period-correct engine and gearbox! Rightly taking pride of place among Alvis's already exceptional collection of original and recreated cars, the GP was publicly revealed at the Automobile Council in Chiba City, Japan in April 2023 with the intention being to have it fully completed and running at Brooklands in time for its 100th birthday in 2027. All the more reason, I think, to start planning my long-overdue return to that great race track. A hearty well done to everyone involved in this mammoth project and I hope to see it in the metal in a few years time!
With its designer Captain G. T. Smith-Clarke in 1927 (left) and fully-restored today (right)
Hello. Yes, it's me again, begging forgiveness once more for allowing six months to elapse between posts! I have been a bad blogger and there is no excuse. I could blame my new forum for taking up more of my time than I anticipated, or just life getting in the way, but I shan't because we all have different calls upon our time and I dare say I could have made more space for this dear old blog. Anyway, we'll cast a veil over all that, I think, and get back to the fun business of writing about interesting vintage-themed news (and goodness knows we need that more than ever, I should think). Something that should be even easier for me now having recently splashed out on a new PC (the laptop was all very well and has provided sterling service for the last seven years, but there is still something to be said for a desktop setup especially when writing like this) - there can really be no excuse for not posting more often now (he says)!
Without further ado, then, I'll take us back to the beginning of 2023 for this first story about a machine close to my heart - the autogiro.
Last year marked the centenary of the first flight of the autogiro, the brainchild of Spanish engineer Juan de la Cierva and the precursor to all modern helicopters. After several abortive designs his C.4 autogiro made a controlled ascent at the Getafe aerodrome near Madrid on the 17th January 1923 in the hands of experienced test pilot Captain Alejandro Gómez Spencer.
Cierva autogiros would go on to be developed throughout the '20s and '30s, regularly being touted as the next big advance in aviation before reaching something of a technological dead-end by the start of the Second World War, after which advancements in vertical take-off heralded the beginning of the helicopter and relegated the autogiro to that of a light, leisure aircraft (now known as the gyrocopter). You can read more about the history of Cierva autogiros in this article I wrote for In Retrospect magazine a few years back.
Now, however, I'm delighted to see that a group of Spanish aviation enthusiasts have put the finishing touches to a full-scale flying replica of that first C.4, the maiden flight of which took place once again at Getafe aerodrome (where it will be operated by the Club de Ultraligeros Getafe) back in April 2023 - a fitting tribute to Juan de la Cierva, Captain Gomez and the history not only of the autogiro but of early Spanish aviation in general. What a wonderful sight it is to see one of these fantastic machines take to the air once more!
Well, this is something I never thought I'd be blogging about. Not that I'm an expert on such things as dolls, you understand (although while we're at it, who else remember Sindy?). Anyway, this is more a case of the subject within a subject being of interest (hopefully!) to my readers, with the news that Mattel, maker of the Barbie doll, has honoured one of the pioneers of early aviation with the latest addition to their range.
The aviatrix in question is Elizabeth "Bessie" Coleman, who made history in 1921 when she became the first black person to obtain an international pilot's licence. Her story is one that frankly deserves more recognition and I can only hope that this acknowledgement by Mattel goes some way towards achieving that.
Born in Atlanta, Texas in 1892 Bessie Coleman seemed all set to follow in her parents' footsteps as a cotton picker. However from an early age she proved to be an academic student, fond of reading and a whizz at maths, such that she was given a scholarship by the local Baptist church that eventually enabled her to attend what is now the Langston University in Oklahoma. The money did not last, though, and she was only able to complete a single term before she was forced to return to Texas.
At the age of 23 Bessie found herself living in Chicago with her brothers, working as a manicurist in a local barbershop. It was here that she was first exposed to the wonders of early flight, listening to the stories returning air force pilots would tell whilst getting a trim. Inspired by these thrilling stories she took a second job in a chili restaurant to help pay for flying lessons, despite neither black people nor women being allowed to join flying schools. Fortunately she was able to gain support from the editor of a Chicago-based African-American newspaper, Robert S. Abbott of the Chicago Defender, and prominent African-American banker Jesse Binga, who between them helped publicise and pay for her flying lessons. To get over the hurdle of the U.S. flying school bans it was recommended that Coleman travel to France, where there were no such restrictions. In an early example of her strong-minded and intellectual nature, she immediately attended a French language school in Chicago and having learnt the language promptly left the United States for Europe. Arriving in Paris at the end of November 1920 she spent the next 6 months learning to fly before finally achieving what no black woman had done before - obtaining a pilot's licence. Determined to be the best flyer she could, Bessie continued to take flying lessons under the tutelage of an unnamed ex-WW1 French ace before returning to America in September 1921.
Despite widespread media attention in America at her achievement, Bessie was quick to realise that if she were to make a living as a civilian pilot in her home country then barnstorming was pretty much the only way to go. Again showing remarkable prudence Coleman, still having found no-one in the U.S. willing to teach her the advanced flying skills she would need, returned to France to undertake further lessons. Touring Europe she met famous Dutch aircraft designer Anthony Fokker and visited his factory in Germany where she was given more training by the chief test pilot. Now fully versed in all aspects of advanced flight, she once again returned to the U.S.A. where, billed as "Queen Bess", she wowed crowds around the country in various Curtiss JN-4 "Jenny" biplanes - earning her the well-deserved title of "The World's Greatest Woman Flier". Resolute in her desire to perform the most difficult stunts and understandably vocal in promoting African-American aviation she toured the country for the next 4 years giving lectures and exhibition flights. During a visit to Orlando, Florida she befriended a local vicar and his wife, who all but adopted her as a daughter; remaining in Orlando Bessie opened her own beauty parlour with the aim of making enough money to buy her own aeroplane.
In April 1926 this she finally did, purchasing another Curtiss JN-4 in Dallas, Texas. Sadly, however, it was this aircraft that would be her downfall. Bessie was in Jacksonville, Florida, at the time of the purchase so the aeroplane was flown back from Dallas by her 24-year-old mechanic and publicity agent William D. Wills. He was reportedly forced to land three times along the journey due to the terrible condition the aircraft had been kept in by its previous owner. Despite its obviously dangerous shortcomings and against all the advice of friends and relatives, Bessie went up (as a passenger) in the Jenny with Wills on the 30th April 1926 to practice for a parachute jump she intended to perform the following day. At 3,000ft the aircraft suddenly went into an uncontrollable dive and spun into the ground. Bessie was thrown from the cockpit and sadly died on the ground; Wills was also killed instantly when the Jenny impacted the ground and exploded. Detailed examination of the wreckage subsequently revealed a wrench for maintaining the engine had been left in the machine, causing the controls to jam.
Bessie Coleman's tragically early death at the age of 34 was, despite her undoubted fame, largely ignored by all but the African-American press. In spite of this, over ten thousand mourners turned out for her funeral in Chicago and over the many years following she was honoured with several roads, schools and other public buildings being named after her, to say nothing of various museum exhibits, commemorative stamps etc.
Now can be added to that list a Barbie doll designed in her image (I have to admit not seeing much of a likeness, although as I said at the top of this post dolls are not really my metier), with a snappy-looking aviatrix get-up featuring flying suit, boots and initialled cap. It is splendid to see such a previously-overlooked trailblazer of (black) women's aviation marked in this way and I commend Mattel for choosing to highlight this historically important woman. If it can also encourage young girls of any colour to take an interest in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering & Mathematics) Learning and aviation in particular, then so much the better.
Another welcome return to this blog for one of my favourite sort of happenings - the "vintage machinery comes to the rescue" story. We have seen it before, mainly with steam traction engines and road rollers but sometimes with steam trains and here is another instance of the latter.
On this occasion the engine in question is Lilla, a feisty mid-sized 0-4-0 quarry locomotive originally built in 1891 for hauling slate from the Nantile Valley near Gwynedd in North Wales. This she continued to do for the next sixty-four years, moving a few miles northeast to the Penrhyn quarry at Bethesda in 1928, before finally being retired in 1955 following a failed boiler test. Purchased by a private individual in 1963 Lilla spent the following 9 years undergoing restoration before returning to the heritage railway network in 1972. Moving around the country she finally found herself in her current home at the Ffestiniog & West Highland Railway in 1993 where she has been well cared-for over the intervening three decades. This has included numerous overhauls and replacement of worn parts, with a brand new boiler being fitted in 2004.
It is no doubt this high level of preservation that allowed Lilla to step up and come to the aid of the National Trust when recent flooding caused part of a nearby tourist trail to be washed away. Already a common sight on the F&WHR line pulling everything from quarry wagons to carriages full of children, Lilla seemed the obvious choice to haul the 30 tons of aggregate needed to repair the damaged path and I am delighted to see that she performed the task as though she'd never been away, proving once again how - provided they are maintained in good condition - vintage machines can still fulfil their original purpose. Kudos must also go to the National Trust Cymru for approaching the F&WHR with the idea of using Lilla to help out - the sort of thinking one is glad to see in a heritage (or indeed any) organisation and one which I hope we will continue to see more of, as people realise that machines like Lilla still have a lot left to give.
I say, it's been a while, hasn't it (where have we heard that before)?! Crikey, even the Blogger interface has changed since my last post! I've almost forgotten how all this works. I fancy I shall also have to do a bit of Spring cleaning around the old thing. Has it really been nearly 3 years?! Does anyone still do this blogging malarkey any more or has everyone moved on to InstaTwitFaceWhatsTok, wearing funny goggles and waving to each other over the aether? Anyway, do feel free to say "What ho!" in the comments if you are still following this cobwebbed corner of the Internet and although I won't threaten promise anything it is my intention to start posting again (in the same vein as before) as time, sources and health allows. In the meantime, it's good to be back!
Some welcome news coming out of the East Midlands in this next article, which details the fascinating-sounding plan by a Nottinghamshire-based observatory to make use of a long-dormant bit of Victorian engineering in the creation of a new visitor attraction.
This is the volunteer-run Sherwood Observatory in Sutton-on-Ashfield, owned by the Mansfield & Sutton Astronomical Society, which also has as part of the land next to the observatory the remains of an old disused 19th century reservoir. Now the plan, judging by this recent report from the B.B.C., is for what is left of this long-forgotten facility to be turned into a new planetarium that will complement the existing building and its telescope.
The proposed design looks jolly interesting and I am pleased to note the way in which they intend to keep the existing Victorian structure while merging it with some forward-looking, 21st century space-age motifs - both of which are in keeping with and sympathetic to the building's heritage as well as its new-found purpose. All-in-all it looks to be a successful fusion of old and new and I look forward to hopefully seeing it become reality.
The provision for teaching areas has also been considered in the design of the new building - a remarkable-looking domed structure that will sit partly above ground as well as within the large cavity that once formed the reservoir - with part of the underground area to be given over to classrooms that would give visitors further insight into the work of the society, the exhibitions and information gleaned from the observatory on the cosmos in general.
The importance of this to the furtherance of STEM learning in the U.K., especially among young people, cannot be overestimated and I am glad to see that the Heritage Lottery Fund recognises this as well and has put £36,000 towards helping realise the project. It sounds like there is still some way to go, with more funding yet required, a firm design plan to be formulated and more talks with the HLF in the offing but hopefully with luck the Mansfield & Sutton Astronomical Society can make good on their aim to have this splendid new building up and open by their 2023 target. That they regularly had over 3,000 visitors a year before Covid struck is a testament both to the work of the volunteers and the attraction of the stellar sciences in general and I sincerely hope that they can reach their goal, build their Victorian-based planetarium and attract many more visitors from Nottinghamshire and beyond - perhaps even including the next generation of astronomic scientists - from 2023 onwards.
Staying with the 1930s aviation theme in this post we move from one end of the aeronautical speed spectrum to the other as we return to one of my most favourite aircraft of the period - the Supermarine Schneider Trophy racing aeroplanes.
I wrote about the Schneider Trophy in previous posts on the anniversaries of the final 1931 race and the Spitfire's 1936 maiden flight, as well as a detailed article for In Retrospect magazine. I had intended to save this post specially for when I was to be at the mercy of the quacks again but that is still up in the air and as the original articles below date back to the beginning of the year I felt that, with the advent of this latest welcome news, it was about time I got down to blogging about this excellent project.
As these articles explain, something else that hopefully will soon be up in the air (and which I am looking far more forward to!) is a full-size replica of the 1927 Schneider Trophy-winning British entry, the Supermarine S.5, thanks to the efforts of a team of aeronautical engineers and Schneider Trophy enthusiasts. Leading the project is professional pilot Will Hosie, whose interest in the famous speed contest and the S.5 in particular is obviously a personal one seeing as his late father Bill once owned an earlier replica of that aircraft in the 1980s (and in which Bill Hosie sadly lost his life following a catastrophic crash off the coast of Falmouth, Cornwall, in May 1987). This first replica - also full-size - first flew in 1975 and was badly damaged in a take-off crash seven years later in 1982, at which point it passed into the ownership of the Hosie family.
Now the son Will Hosie and his team look well on the way to creating a new S.5 replica, with enough funding having come in for work to have begun on building the floats and drawings in place for the rest. While there is still a long way to go, both in terms of construction and financing, the proposed timescale - first flight in 2023 - seems eminently achievable whilst the call for investors and sponsors is a sensible one and with any luck will inspire a good many well-placed individuals and organisations to get on board. One hopes that certain museums, historical trusts et cetera will take an interest which could in turn filter down into schools and local workshops as has been seen with other similar projects. The aim of displaying the finished aircraft at a total of 20 events (10 airshows and 10 static displays) around the world in time for the 100th anniversary of the 1927 Schneider Trophy is again an entirely laudable and realistic goal. It is moreover extremely important that the story of the Schneider Trophy and the S.5's place within it is kept alive and propagated for future generations, both for the thrilling contest it was and its place in the history of the development of the Spitfire. To be able to see once again an example of these incredible pieces of engineering in the air will be an amazing treat, especially since so few of the original Supermarine S-series seaplanes survived (and none in flying condition).
The S.4 of 1925 was the first of Mitchell's revolutionary, streamlined monoplane designs to see the light of day. Being such a radical departure from previous efforts only one example was produced, taking its place alongside a pair of less advanced Gloster III biplanes for the 1925 race in Baltimore, U.S.A. (having first raised the British and world seaplane speed records to 226 miles per hour during a test run at Southampton in September 1925). Unfortunately during a subsequent test run at Baltimore's Bay Shore Park the pilot, Henri Biard, lost control at 200 feet after encountering heavy wing vibration and sideslipped into the water, wrecking the all-wood S.4 but managing to walk away with only two broken ribs.
Two years later and Mitchell and his team had taken what they'd learnt from the S.4 and created the S.5, three examples of which - serial numbers N219, N220 and N221 - were produced for the 1927 contest, which was to take place in Venice, Italy. Only two - N219 and N220 - would take part in the race, with N220 flown by Flt. Lt. Sidney Webster winning at an average speed of 281.65mph and N219 piloted by Flt. Lt. O. E. Worsley coming second at an average of 273.07mph. The two S.5's had wrested the Schneider Trophy from Italy and the next contest would take place at Calshot, Southampton, in 1929.
A year later in 1928, as part of the preparations for the 1929 race, Flt. Lt. Samuel 'Kink' Kinkead was selected to make an attempt on the world air speed record that had been set by the Italians during the '27 race. On the 12th March 1928, flying the reserve N221, Kinkead was suddenly seen to nosedive at high speed straight into the Solent. The aircraft was totally destroyed and 'Kink' was killed instantly. Although the wreckage and the body were both recovered the cause of the crash has never been satisfactorily explained.
Distraught but undaunted the remaining members of the RAF High Speed Flight pushed ahead in readiness for the 1929 contest. Mitchell and Supermarine produced the S.6, an advancement over the S.5 with its all-metal construction and new Rolls-Royce R engine, and two of these - N247 and N248 - were built for the race.
S.6 N247, piloted by Flt. Lt. Richard Waghorn, went on to win the 1929 event at an average speed of 328.63mph, with S.5 N219 finishing a creditable third in the hands of Flt. Lt. d'Arcy Greig (whose autobiography My Flying Years I can heartily recommend) and Britain was only one contest away from claiming the Schneider Trophy in perpetuity.
For the 1931 event, due to time constraints as a result of financial difficulties and a lack of political will, the two S.6s from the 1929 contest were redesigned with new floats, extra radiators and revised control surfaces and designated S.6A, while Mitchell worked on shoehorning in a more powerful version of the Rolls-Royce R engine into the existing airframe design which resulted in the building of two further examples, to be called the S.6B.
Despite there being no competition for the 1931 race (all other nations having withdrawn for various reasons) the High Speed Flight were determined to put on a show for the capacity crowd lining the banks of the Solent and ensure that the world speed record - and thus the Schneider Trophy - would be held by Britain. As such they threw everything they had into the contest - the two new S.6Bs S1595 and S1596, the S.6As N247 and N248, plus the surviving S.5s N219 and N220. The S.5s by this time were used only for practice runs, with the plan being that S.6B S1595 would be the aircraft to fly the race and make the record attempt while the two older S.6As would be kept in reserve. While training for the race was still underway S.6A N247 crashed on takeoff, killing the pilot Lt. G. L. Brinton, RN, leaving only N248 as the sole surviving S.6A. Despite this setback the race went off as planned, Flt. Lt. John Boothman taking S.6B S1595 to a record-breaking 340.08mph on the 13th September as part of the final 1931 contest. The other S.6B S1596 capsized and sank with Flt. Lt. George Stainforth at the controls during practice for the world speed record but both pilot and aircraft survived and two weeks later Stainforth, in S.6B S1595, raised the WSR yet again to 407.5mph.
Thus of the eight S-series seaplanes designed and built by R. J. Mitchell and Supermarine over the course of 6 years, by the end of 1931 three had been lost to accidents leaving only two S.5s, a single S.6A and both the S.6Bs extant. Designed from the outset as high-performance racing aeroplanes intended for a specific, continually evolving contest their long-term survival was always going to be in question. The highly-stressed Napier Lion and Rolls-Royce R engines required a complete strip-down and overhaul after every single run (literally a matter of hours) and the strains put on the airframe by the incredible speeds and high-g turns of the courses meant that keeping any of them in an airworthy condition beyond the absolute limit of their use would have been an extreme engineering and economic challenge.
As such only two Supermarine aircraft from that fantastic era of seaplane racing survive to this day, the fate of the others (including both the S.5s) being lost to the mists of time. The winning S.6B S1595 was retired immediately after the 1931 race and donated to the London Science Museum, where it remains today in unrestored condition. S.6A N248 was displayed at Southampton Royal Pier well into the 1960s (where it was actually misidentified as S.6B S1596) before being moved to the Solent Sky museum (previously the Southampton Hall of Aviation) in Southampton, where it has since been restored and now sits proudly among the exhibits - often being wheeled out for special events such as the Goodwood Revival.
While normally one would be sad to see these two survivors hanging in museums rather than soaring through the sky as their maker intended, for the reasons mentioned above - not to mention their incredible rarity value - this is one instance where I am happy to just see them on static display. It is for this reason as much as any that Mr Hosie's project is so important and, while it may not be able to create quite the same thrill of speed and excitement of the original 12-cylinder-engined thoroughbreds, it will be wonderful to see a representation of these marvellous aircraft take to the skies after almost 100 years and hopefully introduce a whole new generation to this exciting chapter in British aviation history. I will be following the progress of this project extremely closely and very much look forward to seeing it come to fruition, when we will once again see an S.5 in the air and on the water.
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