The machine started a gentle right turn, passing almost directly over Langley’s head. It continued flying this pattern until it reached a maximum estimated altitude of 80 feet. After about one minute and 20 seconds, the propellers suddenly stopped turning, probably from lack of steam to the engine. To everyone’s surprise, the model glided beautifully for another 10 seconds before landing lightly on the surface of the bay, 425 feet from the houseboat. The Aerodrome had made three complete circles, each with an estimated diameter of 300 feet, as it drifted to the northwest. Calculations revealed that it had traveled about 3,300 feet in 90 seconds, generating a speed of between 20 and 25 mph.

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Shouts, applause and cheers erupted from the astounded members of the launch team and observers. Everyone knew they had just witnessed history, a first in aerial navigation.

The workmen retrieved the machine, then dried and carefully re-guyed the wings, one of which had sustained a kink. Langley believed that the shock of launching or the air pressures of flight might have caused the problem. He also suggested that the right-hand turn may have been caused by the wing’s misalignment.

No. 5 was ready to fly again within two hours. At exactly 5:10 p.m., the model was off on another successful flight. As before, the Aerodrome made three ascending circles to the right, reaching a maximum altitude of 60 feet. When the propellers finally stilled, the model pitched slightly nose down and glided majestically to a perfect water touchdown. Calculations showed it had flown about 2,300 feet.

It was Alexander Graham Bell’s privilege to inform the scientific world of Langley’s triumph. ‘It seems to me that no one who was present on this interesting occasion could have failed to recognize that the practicality of mechanical flight had been demonstrated,’ said Bell. Critics, including Britain’s renowned scientist, Lord Kelvin, would have to admit that he was right after all. Langley was prompt in sending Bell’s detailed account of the flights to prestigious international scientific and popular journals of the day. The news inaugurated a change in perception about heavier-than-air flight-maybe aviation was not just for cranks after all.

Before he left on his annual European excursion, Langley had directed the staff to prepare Aerodrome No. 6 for flight when he returned in the fall. Everything was ready on November 27, but the weather was wet and windy until late in the afternoon. With propellers whirling, the flying machine was thrust into the gentle breeze. Almost immediately it began to bank, causing the nose to drop. The flight ended 612 seconds later. Inspection revealed a defective transmission component that allowed one propeller to spin faster than the other, causing the bank.

Saturday, November 28, started out wet and windy, but conditions gradually improved. At 4:20 p.m., the Aerodrome was launched into a gentle breeze from the south. That time it flew, proceeding in a gentle climbing turn to the right and reaching a maximum altitude of about 30 feet. At one point, observers feared that the machine might collide with tall trees along the west bank of the bay. Fortunately, it simply followed the curved contour of the shoreline-almost as if it had eyes. After one minute and 45 seconds, the Aerodrome lightly touched down in the bay. Calculations showed it had traveled 4,200 feet at 30 mph. Langley now had two successful Aerodromes.

If Langley had stopped there, he would have earned a well-deserved place in history for demonstrating the practicality of heavier-than-air flight. However, the War Department was impressed with his accomplishments. By 1898, with the Spanish-American War near, the military decided to finance the development of a man-carrying flying machine.

Over the next five years, Langley developed a scaled-up version of Aerodrome No. 5. Powered by a gasoline engine, the ‘Great Aerodrome’ experienced similar problems to those of early steam-powered models. On October 7, 1903, the machine snagged on part of the launching mechanism and plunged into the Potomac like ‘a handful of mortar.’ Two months later, on December 8, a similar misfortune caused the Great Aerodrome to collapse in midair. Fortunately, Langley’s chief engineer and designated pilot, Charles Manly, was unhurt in both accidents. But these failures would continue to haunt Langley. With money exhausted and public opinion running heavily against him, Langley reluctantly abandoned his quest for powered, manned, heavier-than-air flight. Ironically, nine days after Langley came to that decision, the world’s first successful flights of that kind were performed by Wilbur and Orville Wright at Kill Devil Hills.

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