terms.” Throughout 1906, this account continues, “Wilbur believed that there was not one chance in a hundred that anyone would produce a machine ‘of the least practicing usefulness’ within the next five years.” Unfortunately for the Wrights, they badly underestimated their competition, especially a team including Glenn Curtiss.
Perhaps even more sadly, the Wrights’ proprietary strategy would take a personal toll, setting them at odds with some of their oldest and dearest colleagues. For instance, when the Wright brothers started out as a team of earnest young bicycle builders interested in the prospects of flight, they wrote to Samuel Langley at the Smithsonian, who gladly sent them reprints and citations of pertinent aeronautical research.
They also wrote to Octave Chanute.
Chanute, an eminent engineer of the period, who had made his reputation building railroad bridges throughout the country, was one of the nation’s foremost experts on aviation in the late nineteenth century, a rare member of the scientific and engineering establishment at that time who was willing to devote himself in earnest to the then-heretical matter of human flight. Ultimately, Chanute would become a mentor to the Wright brothers and, like Langley, a central figure in the fledgling field of aviation. He corresponded widely and frequently with members of the small community and, in 1894, penned the influential Progress in Flying Machines —a book that greatly influenced the Wrights and many others seeking to unlock the mysteries of flight.
When they first solicited Chanute’s help, in a letter dated May 13, 1900, Wilbur Wright had written: “I believe no financial profit will accrue to the inventor of the first flying machine, and that only those who are willing to give as well as to receive suggestions can hope to link their names with the honor of its discovery. The problem is too great for one man alone and unaided to solve in secret.”
Wilbur’s magnanimous remarks perfectly described Chanute’s role among his early generation of aviators; Chanute corresponded so widely within the field that he served as a one-man clearinghouse, constantly linking practitioners up with one another, alerting them to new research, and even underwriting the efforts of some experimenters. In characteristic fashion, Chanute replied to the Wrights’ letter immediately and gave freely of his accumulated wisdom about aeronautics. He supplied the Wrights with the latest technical literature, advised them each step of the way, and even helped them pick the location of Kitty Hawk, suggesting the mid-Atlantic coast for its steady winds and forgiving sand dunes.
But immediately following their first success at Kitty Hawk, Chanute began to notice a change in the Wrights’ thinking. “We are giving no pictures nor descriptions of machine or methods at present,” came the impersonal telegram in response to Chanute’s eager inquiries about their experiments in December 1903.
By 1909, even Chanute, perhaps the Wrights’ closest ally and mentor, broke off relations with them, charging publicly that their legal claims were overblown, greedy, and harmful to the nascent field. As Chanute explained it to a reporter from the New York World:
I admire the Wrights. I feel friendly toward them for the marvels they have achieved; but you can easily gauge how I feel concerning their attitude at present by the remark I made to Wilbur Wright recently. I told him I was sorry to see they were suing other experimenters and abstaining from entering the contests and competitions in which other men are brilliantly winning laurels. I told him that in my opinion they are wasting valuable time over lawsuits which they ought to concentrate in their work. Personally, I do not think that the courts will hold that the principle underlying the warping tips can be patented…. There is no question that the fundamental principle underlying [this] was well known before the Wrights
Perhaps even more sadly, the Wrights’ proprietary strategy would take a personal toll, setting them at odds with some of their oldest and dearest colleagues. For instance, when the Wright brothers started out as a team of earnest young bicycle builders interested in the prospects of flight, they wrote to Samuel Langley at the Smithsonian, who gladly sent them reprints and citations of pertinent aeronautical research.
They also wrote to Octave Chanute.
Chanute, an eminent engineer of the period, who had made his reputation building railroad bridges throughout the country, was one of the nation’s foremost experts on aviation in the late nineteenth century, a rare member of the scientific and engineering establishment at that time who was willing to devote himself in earnest to the then-heretical matter of human flight. Ultimately, Chanute would become a mentor to the Wright brothers and, like Langley, a central figure in the fledgling field of aviation. He corresponded widely and frequently with members of the small community and, in 1894, penned the influential Progress in Flying Machines —a book that greatly influenced the Wrights and many others seeking to unlock the mysteries of flight.
When they first solicited Chanute’s help, in a letter dated May 13, 1900, Wilbur Wright had written: “I believe no financial profit will accrue to the inventor of the first flying machine, and that only those who are willing to give as well as to receive suggestions can hope to link their names with the honor of its discovery. The problem is too great for one man alone and unaided to solve in secret.”
Wilbur’s magnanimous remarks perfectly described Chanute’s role among his early generation of aviators; Chanute corresponded so widely within the field that he served as a one-man clearinghouse, constantly linking practitioners up with one another, alerting them to new research, and even underwriting the efforts of some experimenters. In characteristic fashion, Chanute replied to the Wrights’ letter immediately and gave freely of his accumulated wisdom about aeronautics. He supplied the Wrights with the latest technical literature, advised them each step of the way, and even helped them pick the location of Kitty Hawk, suggesting the mid-Atlantic coast for its steady winds and forgiving sand dunes.
But immediately following their first success at Kitty Hawk, Chanute began to notice a change in the Wrights’ thinking. “We are giving no pictures nor descriptions of machine or methods at present,” came the impersonal telegram in response to Chanute’s eager inquiries about their experiments in December 1903.
By 1909, even Chanute, perhaps the Wrights’ closest ally and mentor, broke off relations with them, charging publicly that their legal claims were overblown, greedy, and harmful to the nascent field. As Chanute explained it to a reporter from the New York World:
I admire the Wrights. I feel friendly toward them for the marvels they have achieved; but you can easily gauge how I feel concerning their attitude at present by the remark I made to Wilbur Wright recently. I told him I was sorry to see they were suing other experimenters and abstaining from entering the contests and competitions in which other men are brilliantly winning laurels. I told him that in my opinion they are wasting valuable time over lawsuits which they ought to concentrate in their work. Personally, I do not think that the courts will hold that the principle underlying the warping tips can be patented…. There is no question that the fundamental principle underlying [this] was well known before the Wrights
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