The day was clear, the wind just as wished. It was October 19, and after nearly four years of concentrated study and effort by the brothers, it proved a day of days.
Wilbur made one manned flight after another. How many is unknown, no count was kept. He did record, however, flights of 300 to 400 feet in length and speeds on landing of nearly 30 miles an hour.
Only Wilbur did the flying. But now, in contrast to his customary use of the first-person singular when describing how things were progressing, he switched to the first-person plural, as in the lengthy report he later wrote to Octave Chanute. “And although in appearance it was a dangerous practice, we found it perfectly safe and comfortable, except for the flying sand.”
During his first days at Kitty Hawk, Wilbur had closed a letter to his father saying it would be no great disappointment to him were he to accomplish practically nothing there. He considered it “a pleasure trip.” And certainly it was for both brothers—to be off on their own in a setting so entirely different from any they had ever known and doing what mattered to them above all. They had hoped to learn much of value there and they had, more even than expected. They felt they had found the way forward.
With characteristic understatement, Wilbur summarized by saying they were able to return home “without having our pet theories completely knocked in the head by the hard logic of experience, and our own brains dashed out in the bargain.” He said nothing of the fact that for the first time he had experienced the thrill of flying.
They packed for home certain they would return. Their machine, having more than served its purpose, was left behind and Bill Tate was told the materials were his to use as he wished. From the undamaged portions of the sateen wing covering, Addie Tate was to sew dresses for their two daughters.
III.
Work at the bicycle shop and the routines of family life at home continued for Wilbur and Orville much as usual over the next eight months, but nothing so occupied their free time and thoughts as did preparations for a return to Kitty Hawk.
Plans for a new glider were under way, their concentration on the problems still to be solved. Writing again to Octave Chanute, Wilbur said the new glider would be built on the same general plan as the previous model, only larger and with “improved construction in its details.” Exactly what those improvements might entail, he did not say, just as he did not say it would be the largest glider ever built until then. The further difference “in its details” was that the curve of the wings would be greater, based on measurements calculated by Otto Lilienthal.
When Chanute wrote to tell Wilbur he expected to be passing through Dayton sometime soon and would like to stop over, Wilbur said he and Orville welcomed the possibility of his visit, but explained that the bicycle business, being what it was in springtime, occupied their attention twelve to fourteen hours a day. However, they were “entirely free” on Sundays.
To have a man of Octave Chanute’s standing come to call would be a high tribute. He was not only one of the world’s leading authorities on aviation, and on gliders in particular, but enjoyed an international reputation as an engineer, builder of railroads and major bridges, including the Kansas City Bridge, the first span over the Missouri River. He arrived at 7 Hawthorn Street on June 26, a Wednesday not a Sunday, which seems not to have mattered. Bishop Wright, Wilbur, Orville, and Katharine were all on hand to welcome him as he came onto the front porch and into the house for lunch.
At age seventy, Chanute was short, stout, and dapper, with a lingering fringe of white hair about the ears, a mustache, and thin white goatee. He was both kindly in manner and extremely talkative. Katharine and young Carrie Kayler had worked hard on the preparations for the meal, but little notice seems to have been taken of it, so involved were the hosts and their guest with conversation.
The range and content of the discussion are not known, except that Chanute had brought a gift for the brothers, a portable French anemometer, by which they could accurately measure the speed of the wind, something of great value they had been unable to do before. Then, a few days after departing Dayton, Chanute wrote to suggest that two men with whom he worked join the brothers when they returned to Kitty Hawk the coming summer. Although the brothers did not necessarily agree with Chanute’s philosophy that progress in science was always best served by everyone working openly together, they accepted Chanute’s suggestion if only out of respect.