Michael Molkentin FLYING THE SOUTHERN CROSS Aviators Charles Ulm and Charles Kingsford Smith NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA Published by the National Library of Australia Canberra ACT 2600 © National Library of Australia 2012 Text © Michael Molkentin Foreword © John Ulm Books published by the National Library of Australia further the Library’s objectives to interpret and highlight the Library’s collections and to support the creative work of the nation’s writers and researchers. This book is copyright in all countries subscribing to the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 , no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher. National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Author: Molkentin, Michael. Title: Flying the Southern Cross : Charles Ulm and Charles Kingsford Smith / Michael Molkentin. ISBN: 9780642277466 (pbk.) Notes: Includes bibliographical references and index. Subjects: Ulm, C. T. P. (Charles Thomas Phillippe), 1897–1934. Kingsford-Smith, Charles, Sir, 1897–1935. Southern Cross (Airplane) Transpacific flights. Dewey Number: 629.13092 Commissioning Publisher: Susan Hall Publisher’s Editor: John Mapps Designer: Elizabeth Faul Image coordinators: Felicity Harmey and Gina Wyatt Special photography: Digitisation and Photography Branch, National Library of Australia Production: Melissa Bush Printed and bound in Singapore by Imago Cover image: see pages 129 and 157 CONTENTS Foreword Author’s note ‘Notes written above the clouds’ Charles Ulm’s log and the 1928 trans-Pacific flight ‘Over Golden Gate 1100 feet’ Take-off in San Francisco, 31 May 1928 ‘Our last sight of land for 24 hours’ The first day’s flying, 31 May 1928 ‘Perfectly glorious sunset’ Flying into the night, 31 May–1 June 1928 ‘Mauna Kea sighted!’ Hawaii, 1 June 1928 ‘On the way and happy’ Bound for Suva, 2–3 June 1928 ‘A rotten night ahead’ Crossing the equator, 3–5 June 1928 ‘Looks clear ahead’ Interlude in Fiji, 5–8 June 1928 ‘Worst 2½ hours on whole flight’ Pacific storm, 8–9 June 1928 ‘On our way home’ Reception in Australia, 9–16 June 1928 ‘The rest is easy’ The years beyond Appendix: Trans-Pacific flight statistics Acknowledgements List of illustrations Bibliography Index FOREWORD My earliest recollection of my father Charles Ulm dates to a few days after he completed the trans-Pacific flight in June 1928, when he came to my new home where I was living with my mother and stepfather—bringing a Hornby train set for my seventh birthday. In his final six years I was with him for odd weekends, maybe a total of ten days. His newly appointed secretary Ellen Rogers happened to live in the next street. By arrangement she would pick up little Johnny— steam train to the Quay ferry, tram to Martin Place, and his Australian National Airways CEO’s office in Challis House. Then in the tiny black Triumph with ‘Rog’ and a typewriter in the dicky seat to his Dover Heights bungalow where with his big Zeiss binoculars I would watch the great Sydney Harbour Bridge’s arches edging together. I recall a day on his yacht with him holding me by shorts and shirt over the side for fun; and being ordered below by Captain Ulm when she heeled over defying the Southerly Buster. He explained how wind suction over sails led to the design of aeroplane wings. John Ulm, 14 years old in 1935 with Charles Kingsford Smith. School friends asked whether my dad was going to fly in the 1934 London– Melbourne Air Race. He wrote saying no, because he was planning his survey flight for the first regular trans-Pacific airmail services. When he was lost, strangers touched me in the street. They knew who the little boy was. It brought it all in on me. In 1935 (his own last year) Smithy kindly had me in my father’s pilot seat alongside him for the last flight of the Southern Cross—me wearing my father’s trans-Pacific flying helmet and waving proudly to my school assembled below. It was after flying in my own war, and with a career developing aviation journalism and Australian international airline expansion, that I came fully to appreciate the centrality of my family name and my father’s towering stature in our aviation history, attested by contemporaries and historians. Loyal to her last day, ‘Rog’ collated the records which we lodged in the libraries: the ‘Charles T.P. Ulm Collection’. Papers and memorabilia keep coming in to me, though, the latest being his last cabled message to The Sun from Fiji before taking off for Brisbane and triumph. The Pacific flight raised the eyes of a distant, insular Australia to a world now brought near. Today, a million Australians live and prosper abroad, and we catch planes like buses. Technical record that it is, my father’s log is about four people: Charles Kingsford Smith and his flying skills, Charles Ulm and his organising ability, and the vital Americans, radioman Jim Warner and navigator Harry Lyon. (Many years later, Harry confided to me: ‘The latest model drift recorder Charlie Ulm had acquired for me was so awkward to hold out the little door to take readings that I threw the goddamn thing into the Pacific’. His dead reckoning saved them all.) Michael Molkentin has mined the lode from this ‘stuff of history’, uncovering the character of the cast members—their personalities, pluses and minuses, strengths and weaknesses, foibles and failings. With exacting research, insight and historical integrity he has masterfully crafted his gripping account of Australian achievement. It will sit well with the treasures carefully tended in our pillared National Library, itself Australia’s richest treasure. John Ulm AUTHOR’S NOTE Each chapter in this book begins with an extract from Charles Ulm’s log presented as a facsimile page from the original document, together with a transcription. Ulm’s log has previously been published on two occasions. In 1928, during the trans-Pacific flight, Sydney newspaper The Sun carried extracts from the log. Later that year, an account of the flight ghost-written by journalist Hugh Buggy, The Story of the Southern Cross Trans-Pacific Flight 1928, also included a transcribed version of Ulm’s log. In both cases Ulm’s words were edited to varying degrees (and at times extensively). In this book transcripts of the log appear for the first time unedited from the original document, held in the National Library of Australia’s Charles Kingsford Smith papers (MS 209, Item 1). The entries are transcribed without corrections to spelling, grammar or punctuation. The National Library has digitised the log and made it freely available online at http://www.nla.gov.au/apps/cdview?pi=nla.ms-ms209-1. Curiously, three pages are missing from the original log, containing, it appears, entries describing Southern Cross’ arrival in Honolulu, Suva and Brisbane. There is no trace of when and how these pages were separated from the original. However the versions published in 1928 contain these now-missing extracts, allowing us to fill these gaps in the original document’s chronology. The crew of Southern Cross described their experiences in various memoirs, articles and interviews. These are quoted freely throughout the narrative, though quotations from Ulm’s log are always attributed as such. A full list of references for quotations from other sources is available at http://publishing.nla.gov.au/refs or www.michaelmolkentin.com. Throughout the flight, Ulm recorded time based on the time zone of their point of take-off. Occasionally he noted the time at their current location but prefaced this as ‘ship’s time’. The initials ‘PCT’ in the log stand for Pacific Coast Time. For clarity, measurements in the chapter text are converted to metric values with the exception of altitude, which remains in feet, as it does in modern aviation vernacular.