After a rousing welcome at New York, with a chorus of harbor whistles blaring as their ship came in, and a swarm of reporters and photographers surrounding their every move during a one-day stopover in the city, the three Wrights went on by train to Dayton, arriving at Union Depot, Thursday, May 13, 1909, at five in the afternoon. The crowd at the station was of a size rarely seen in Dayton. Cannons were booming, factory whistles blowing across town, everyone at the station cheering.
Seeing Bishop Wright, as she and her brothers stepped from the train, Katharine shouted, “Oh, there’s Daddy,” and rushed to throw her arms around him. Wilbur and Orville then warmly embraced their father, but so wild was the noise no one could hear what was being said.
There were more embraces for Lorin and Netta and their children. Then, as they began inching their way through the crowd, Wilbur and Orville started shaking hands. Seeing a big, veteran member of the Dayton police force, Tom Mitchell, Wilbur said, “Hello, Tom!” “Good boy!” said Tom as he took Wilbur by the hand.
Katharine was described in one account as looking like the typical American girl at a homecoming, in a smart, gray traveling gown, with a large, broad-brimmed picture-hat of dark green. The only woman in the world who had made three flights in an airplane, she was now as much a subject of attention nearly as her brothers.
In New York she had lectured reporters on some of the “flippant” accounts that had appeared in the American press about the notable Europeans who had taken an interest in her brothers. She loved America, she said, but the American people did not always understand Europeans, who were an appreciative people. She could not listen to anyone saying unkind things about them without protesting. But here in the noise and crowds of the moment there was no call for such comment.
Wilbur looked “bronzed and hard,” and Orville, too, looked well—certainly a great deal better than when he had left Dayton in January—but walked still with a limp. In the middle of all that was happening, Bishop Wright, as was noted, rarely spoke a word, but “feasted” his eyes on the two sons who had made the name Wright, as well as Dayton, known to the world.
Eleven carriages awaited at the entrance to the station to carry the family and a variety of town officials to Hawthorn Street, each of the three reserved for the Wrights pulled by four white horses. The bishop and Orville rode in the first, Wilbur and Reuchlin in the second, Katharine, Lorin, and Lorin’s family in the third.
The streets were filled with more crowds the whole way. Sidewalks were packed. People were leaning from windows, children waving small flags. Hawthorn Street and the Wright homestead were bedecked with flags and flowers and Japanese lanterns. Standing at last at the railing of the front porch, Katharine called out to neighbors across the street, “I’m so glad to get home I don’t know what to do.”
For considerable time, she and the brothers stood in the front parlor receiving a steady procession of old friends and neighbors. Outside the crowd grew to more than ten thousand.
The day after, Mayor Edward Burkhardt, and several city officials called at 7 Hawthorn Street to discuss with the family the “real celebration” to come.
Speaking with a local reporter only shortly afterward, Orville said quite matter-of-factly that though his doctors had told him he was to do no flying in Europe and that he had obeyed them to the letter, he would soon resume his flights at Fort Myer. As he did not say, Wilbur and Katharine felt strongly that a return to the scene of the crash now would put too great a strain on him. He should wait until he was back in practice. But to Orville the matter was settled. Fort Myer it had to be. And he was ready.
The Wright workshop on West Third Street became a “beehive of industry” no less than ever, with Charlie Taylor in charge. “The most important thing we have before us at this time is to get ready for the Fort Myer tests,” Wilbur told reporters, and he and Orville “personally” were constructing the plane to be used there. The old machine had been so badly broken up in the crash that all but the motor and transmission was being built anew.
On May 20 it was announced that President Taft would soon be presenting the brothers several medals at the White House.