Greater Philadelphia Chapter of Tuskegee Airmen;xNLx;Mel Payne, President;xNLx;`;xNLx;;xNLx;Note: The yellow rectangle allows scrolling through time periods. The wrench in lower right corner enables searching.
The Tuskegee Institute was founded in Alabama in 1881 when Booker T. Washington helped organize a normal school for the training of black teachers. He saw Tuskegee as "a veritable cathedral of practical learning and black self-help run entirely of black people." By 1915, it was an established vocational school that trained teachers, tradesmen and farmers. In 1927, a collegiate level was organized, and ten years later it had become one of the best-known black colleges in the U.S. The school was founded on July 4, 1881, as the Tuskegee Normal School for Colored Teachers. This was a result of an agreement made during the 1880 elections in Macon County between a former Confederate Colonel, W.F. Foster, who was a candidate for re-election to the Alabama Senate, and a local black leader, Lewis Adams [8]. W.F. Foster propositioned that if Adams could successfully persuade the black constituents to vote for Foster, if elected, Foster would push the state of Alabama to establish a school for black people in the county. At the time, the majority of Macon County's population was black, thus black constituents had political power. Adams succeeded and Foster followed through with the school [citation needed]. The school became a part of the expansion of higher education for blacks in the former Confederate states following the American Civil War, with many schools founded by the northern American Missionary Association. A teachers' school was the dream of Lewis Adams, a former slave, and George W. Campbell, a banker, merchant and former slaveholder, who shared a commitment to the education of blacks. Despite lacking formal education, Adams could read, write and speak several languages. He was an experienced tinsmith, harness-maker and shoemaker, and he was a Prince Hall Freemason, an acknowledged leader of the African American community in Macon County, Alabama.
(The Advocate; by Robin Miller; August 18, 2024) The U.S. Patent Office's blueprint for Charles Frederick Page's airship. Page applied for the patent in 1903 and received it in 1906. The patent was granted months before the Wright Brothers received their patent for the Kitty Hawk. The Wright Brothers are known as history's flying pioneers, the first to invent, build and fly the world's first successful airplane. The legendary test flight of their plane, called the Wright Flyer, took place on Dec. 17, 1903 at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. These days, that same plane hangs from the rafters of the Smithsonian Institution's National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C.'s National Mall. What you won't see in that same museum is Charles Frederick Page's airship. The Black inventor applied for a patent eight months before the Wright brothers took flight. But why isn't it there? Well, that's part of the question posed by Abigail Miller, of Slaughter. page 9 The U.S. Patent Office's blueprint for Charles Frederick Page's airship. Page was a Black inventor who created his airship in a barn behind his Pineville home. Miller noticed a display about Page in the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport in New Orleans. She was returning from a trip and time was short, so she didn't have time to stop and read the exhibit's panels. But she did take note of Page's name, as well as a model of his airship in a glass display case. "He was a Louisiana inventor," Miller said. "Why didn't his invention receive more attention? And what happened to it?" Well, first of all, Michael Wynne said, note the year: 1903. Page was African American, and the Jim Crow era was alive and well in the United States. "Charles Frederick Page was an African American born in 1864," the Pineville historian said. "There is no census record with his name on it, but he was born in either Rapides or Caddo parish. He was actually born enslaved." He eventually married his wife, Ida Kelso, in 1880. The couple settled in Pineville, where the couple raised 13 children. page 1 The only known photo of Charles Frederick Page. Page invented an airship in Pineville and was granted a patent for his invention months before the Wright Brothers' patent for the Kitty Hawk was approved. PUBLIC DOMAIN "He dug coal for a living in, in Pineville, and by the 1890s, according to an interview with his daughter in The Alexandria Daily Town Talk in the 1930s, he saw a mosquito hawk flying, and he said to himself, 'If a mosquito hawk can fly, I can fly,'" Wynne said. "He built a two-story, wooden house in Pineville." A state historical marker indicates the location of his home on what is now La. 28 East in Pineville — and it was there that he invented an airship. "It was more of a balloon type plane, but it's now being heralded in a major exhibit in the Black Inventors Hall of Fame in Wharton, New Jersey," said Wynne, who self published the book, "Charles Frederick Page and Leo Ortego: Heroes in the Birth of Aviation in America" in 2022. "This is the story of a Black man who patented a version of the airplane before the Wright Brothers." Wynne also was the catalyst behind the unveiling of the historical marker in Pineville. The Louisiana State Museum and the Louisiana Civil Rights Museum collaborated in a July opening of an exhibit commemorating Page's achievement, titled "Pioneer Skies: From Freedom to Flight, the History of Charles Frederick Page," near the baggage claim at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. page 6 An exhibit on Charles Frederick Page is on display through Sept. 30 at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. PROVIDED PHOTO BY LOUIS ARMSTRONG NEW ORLEANS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT ON X The exhibit is an overview of the story Wynne documented through newspapers and governmental records in his book, which also includes blueprint drawings of the airship. "Page's aircraft was a complicated mechanical balloon device that actually had propulsion forward, up and down and forward," Wynne said. "And he built it in his barn behind his house." Again, Page submitted a patent application for his invention months before the Wright Brothers' demonstration at Kitty Hawk. "Now, these patents took a long time," Wynne said. "Page's patent actually took three years to process, but that was normal back then. And the Wright Brothers' patent took about three years, too. Page built a life-size model of his aircraft, and The Town Talk interviewed Page about it." Which surprised Wynne, because newspapers didn't often highlight Black southerners for their accomplishments during Jim Crow. page 3 A copy of the U.S. Patent's Office's approved 1906 patent for Charles Frederick Page's airship. Page invented the airship in Pineville in 1903. PROVIDED PHOTO BY MICHAEL WYNNE "I think The Town Talk did four lengthy articles on Page," Wynne said. "And, let's just be honest, The Town Talk's highlighting the accomplishments of a Black man in the South at that time is worthy a medal. They saw everything and got the story. So, we have a contemporaneous article right there on everything, so it wasn't rumor — it was news happening." The patent was finally awarded to Page on April 10, 1906, but in the meantime, Page wanted the world to know about his invention. "Page sent his aircraft to the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis," Wynne said. This edition of the World's Fair celebrated, as indicated by its name, the centennial of the Louisiana Purchase. "The Louisiana Purchase was signed in 1803, and it was never clear to me why they decided to celebrate the centennial one year later in 1904, but they did," Wynne said. "And they had an aeronautic competition in which the prize, which was well documented, was half a million dollars. It was the total prize, and there were various other prizes that could be won. So, Page shipped his aircraft to St. Louis, and from there, we don't know exactly what happened it." page 5 A state historic marker stands along La. 28 East, only yards away from Charles Frederick Page's homesite in Pineville. Page invented his airship in a barn behind his house. PROVIDED PHOTO All that is known is Page's airship disappeared, which answers the second part of Miller's question as to what happened to Page's invention: He sent it to the fair, and it never came back. Eva Page, Page's daughter, later told The Town Talk that the airship had been stolen. "It was stolen and destroyed, probably due to the prejudice of the day," he said. "Well, that heavily discouraged Page. He'd gotten one offer for $30,000 for the patent. I have the actual letter, but he was so discouraged after the airship was destroyed that he basically gave up on it." Meanwhile, Page's patent came through two years later. "This was one of the earliest patents that any Black man had ever gotten," Wynne said. "It was the first patent on an airship — it was granted one month before the Wright Brothers patent was approved. Again, Page's aircraft was a different mechanism, but it was still an amazing accomplishment." page 2 An article in The Alexandria Daily Town Talk documents Charles Frederick Page's patent for the airship he invented behind his house in Pineville. PROVIDED PHOTO Now comes the most important question: Though the patent was approved, did Page's aircraft actually fly? "According to the family, Charles Frederick Page did fly it, but the story is based on family tradition," Wynn said. "But I respect family tradition, and I have no reason to doubt it. Family tradition is not exactly the movie somebody took of the Wright Brothers flying the (Wright Flyer), but Page's family was there, and they passed down the story." Page's story doesn't end there. He moved past the loss of his invention and devoted his life to helping his fellow man. "His life was amazing," Wynne said. "In 1911, a White student at Louisiana College — now Louisiana Christian University — was walking down Main Street in Pineville, going across the Murray Street Bridge to go to Emmanuel Baptist Church. A Black man took a part of a picket fence and used the wood to kill him and rob him. Things were escalating into a race riot, but Page helped create a group of mediators between the White and Black people to stop this race war. They met in Emmanuel Baptist Church, the White people and the Black people, the mayor, the chief of police, everybody." Tempers cooled, and the conflict was peacefully resolved. "And it was all due to Page," Wynne said. "He also built coffins for people who could not afford coffins, and he set up a business organization for Black men so they would understand how to set up their own businesses. It was the first of its kind in central Louisiana." Page also practiced amateur dentistry. "I know that sounds terrible, but it was for people who could not afford dentistry," Wynne said. "And he worked at Greenwood Memorial Park cemetery, where he developed new tools on handling coffins and digging graves. He then realized that Black people did not have a cemetery of their own, so he founded Lincoln Memorial Cemetery right off of Melrose Street in Pineville." Page died at age 73 on Nov. 18, 1937. He is buried in Lincoln Cemetery, the same cemetery he founded in Pineville. The exhibit on Page and his airship will continue through Sept. 30 at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport with a coinciding satellite exhibit on Page showing at the Louisiana Civil Rights Museum Inaugural Experience in the Hall A entrance of the New Orleans Ernest N. Morial Convention Center in New Orleans. PRODUCER MR LEE ANNOUNCES CHARLES F PAGE DOCUMENTARY IN CELEBRATION OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH A REMARKABLE MOMENT IN AVIATION HISTORY THAT YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF PUBLISHED ON FEBRUARY 23, 2021 Amulti-platinum music producer, Mr. Lee, celebrates Black History Month by looking into his family’s history and achievements. Charles Frederick Page (1864-1937), Mr. Lee’s great grandfather, was the airplane’s original inventor. Page was also awarded the first patent on the airplane in American history before the Wright Brothers. Ironically enough, Mr. Lee started his musical journey in the home of his great grandfather’s house. He remembers being six years old when his great aunts showed him and his parents the airplane’s blueprints. Going to school, Mr. Lee remembered how hard it was to know his great grandfather was responsible for inventing the airplane. But being taught it was invented by someone else. Recently, Mr. Lee discovered that his great grandfather had the patent. Mr. Lee expressed how rewarding it was to share this history with proof that it exists. And how different it is now to see an airplane, or fly one, knowing that one of his own family is tied to something so significant. Mr. Lee is proudly announcing his plans to produce a documentary on Charles F Page. Charles Frederick Page and the First American Airplane The first mention of Charles Frederick Page (1864-1937) in Alexandria’s The Town Talk was on February 26, 1887 edition when Page, in a brief mention in an article under the category of colored, purchased a marriage license for himself and Ida Arceneaux. In the April 11, 1906 edition of the New Orleans’ Times-Democrat newspaper, Page is listed as having received a patent for an “air ship”. In the April 21, 1906 edition, the article was entitled “Pineville Colored Man Has Invented An Air Ship”. “Charles F. Page, a colored citizen of Pineville, and a native of that town, aged about 31 years, has for a number of years been engaged in trying to invent an air ship. He first made an application for a patent on April 24, 1903, and has now secured a U.S. Patent which was issued to him on April 10, 1906. The Town Talk was shown Wednesday a copy of the patent which gives a description of the invention. After an examination, we feel confident that the invention is one of merit, and many ideas brought out by the inventor entirely new, and we believe that with this invention of the navigation of the air, in a safe manner, is nearer insight than it has ever been. The strength of the invention is, that the main portion of the machine is boat-shaped, made of wire, and covered with strong canvass. The lifting air balloons are two in number and are strongly fastened in the hull of the boat, with proper values to permit gas to be pumped in or out of the balloons, to give or take away buoyancy as desired. The balloons are fastened securely to the wired boat. Attached to the boat is a rudder for steering purposes, and it also has a propeller, operated with a gas motor, which can be used to send the air ship in any direction. There are many other new things in this invention which we do not have the time or space to enumerate, but anyone who sees the model and has knowledge of mechanical contrivances can see that inventor Page has made a valuable addition to air navigation machines.” Although it was originally not clear why Page wanted to promote his air ship at the World’s Fair, the following may be the reason: “At the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, Missouri, a seven-month-long world’s fair celebrating Thomas Jefferson’s epic real estate deal a century earlier, more than 19 million visitors were treated to exhibitions of wonders from across the country and around the world. Underwritten by $15 million in stock purchases and federal and state funding, the fair was, in the words of one newspaper headline, “The Most Stupendous Entertainment the World Has Ever Known.” Not only did it host the 1904 Olympic games, but it also featured an aeronautic competition, with a $100,000 grand prize. That’s how the first public, powered flight in the United States came to take place in St. Louis before thousands of witnesses and how international aeronautical celebrity wore, for a time, a distinctly American face.” (From “Air and Space” Magazine, February of 2013, an excerpt.) On September 14, 1911, Page was elected secretary of an un-named “colored men’s organization” at a meeting at the “colored Methodist Church”. The group made resolutions regarding the tragic racial death of William Wirt Ellis and this group was trying to avoid for any riots to occur on this matter. (reminds one of 2020 news?) On April 6, 1923, Page, among many, many others, was listed as homeless after the Great Tornado had passed through Pineville and destroyed much of the town. Page placed a large advertisement in the Town Talk on July 28, 1928: MELLINGER The Tire With The Red Inside Shock Absorbing. Guaranteed against all Road Hazards for 15 months. No other tire in the world has such a strong guarantee. $5 to $10 each for your old tires. 7 DAYS FREE MILEAGE TEST. MELLINGER PURE GUM, FULL MOLD TUBES, GUARANTEED FOR 2 YEARS Get acquainted with these Tires and Tubes. SEE ME TODAY CHARLES F. PAGE Box 265, Pineville, La. “The Mellinger Man” In the December 4, 1937 edition was a large article with a bold headline: “ALEXANDRIA COLORED MAN GOT PATENT ON AIRPLANE” “C. F. Page, 73, Died Recently, Secured It Three Years Ahead Of The Wright Brothers” “Charles Frederick Page, 73, a widely known colored man of Alexandria, died at his home here at 10 P.M. on November 18 (1935). He was married to Ida Arceneaux Kelso on March 15, 1887. They were the parents of 11 children, all of whom are living. He leaves five grandchildren, five nieces, and two nephews. He lived a quiet and peaceful life and had many friends, both white and colored. Page was a deep thinker and had many visions which he attempted to put into execution. One of the most outstanding of his accomplishments was the invention of the airplane three years before the patent of the Wright Brothers patent came out. The patent of Pages’ airplane was recognized, patented, recorded, and given a title in Washington, D.C., just before the World’s Fair in St. Louis (1904). During the progress of the fair, Page paid for space to have his patent on the exhibit, but for some unknown reason, it never did reach St. Louis after having been mailed to go there for the exhibit. During his career, he was a contractor in the timber industry. In this line of work, he furnished the leading railroads with the specified ties and the telegraph companies with specified poles and beams for bridges. During his illness, he had many calls for this character of work but was unable to even give instructions. At the time of his death, there was a tract of several hundred acres of virgin timber awaiting his recovery to manage it. Two years ago, he was very much interested in cabinetwork and equipped a building in Alexandria with machinery and tools, and with the aid of a skilled mechanic and other help, he turned out work that was entirely satisfactory to those who patronized his establishment. Page was among a number of men who helped dig stumps and clear the land for the location of Greenwood Memorial Park in Pineville. After the land was cleared, he continued the work with the superintendent in landscaping and beautifying this tract of land. The superintendent found that he was especially capacitated to do this kind of work and at times when he was absent, he was left in charge of the cemetery. During his 6 years there, he used many original devices to preserve the shrubbery and flowers, much to the pleasure of the superintendent and the patrons of Greenwood Memorial Park. He became so inspired over a permanent place for the burial of the dead, that he worked among leading members of churches and businessmen and was successful in having the Lincoln Cemetery, where his body now lies, established. The blueprint, rules, and regulations are based on the same plans as the Greenwood Cemetery. In the field of agriculture, his ideas are very broad, and as a result, he wrote many articles on this subject. His suggestion was to give the tenant a place to homestead, furnish him a team, livestock, and fowls of the best breed, and give him so many years to pay for it. This plan has really been carried out to a great extent, but he, like many others, never got the credit for the origin. He had a vision of forming corporations among his race. He tried many times to form corporations among the leading men. At one time a company was formed at his suggestion, to form a brickyard, but the venture was not the success he had anticipated.” The Lincoln Memorial Cemetery in Pineville where Page is buried is on Mason Street. Also in the same November 24, 1937 edition was this small ad: Card of Thanks We take this method of thanking our friends, both colored and white, for the beautiful florals, telegrams of condolence, and words of sympathy during the illness and death of our husband and father, Charles F. Page (colored), HIS WIFE, IDA A. PAGE, HIS SONS AND DAUGHTERS Charles Page is buried in the Page family crypt, the largest crypt in the Lincoln Memorial Cemetery. The crypt is located to the right of the cemetery, partially surrounded by a galvanized fence. According to the 1937-8 Alexandria/Pineville City Directory, Ida Page lived at 1942 Mason Street in Alexandria with her son. This is probably where Charles Page spent his last days and died there. (His death certificate to be obtained should verify this.) In the May 12, 1974 Town Talk edition was a lengthy article with photos on Page: Loss of Flying Machine Dashed Possibility of Fame Those who knew him back at the turn of the century used to say that Charles Page could just look at a tree and tell how many feet of lumber he could get from it. The black man who lived off of Holloway Prairie Road (now U. S. Highway 28) was regarded as that good a timberman. Folks around Pineville also considered him a darn good, sometimes dentist, a fellow who could cipher numbers quickly and easily and one of the most dependable men around. But not everybody who knew Page in those early 1900s realized their friend was an inventor, too, one who designed and built — the same year as the Wright Brothers flew their plane at Kitty Hawk — a bi-ballooned air ship. It was an invention that might have landed Page’s name beside those of the Wrights as a pioneer in aviation, had the strange-looking machine not disappeared en route to the (1904) St. Louis World’s Fair. “It was stolen,” Miss Eva Page, the inventor’s daughter, says of the air ship. “After that, Papa never built another one.” Miss Page still has the patent papers for her father’s invention, completed in 1903, and patented in 1906. Now yellowed with age and worn with handling, they describe it as a “construction wherein the dead weights will be buoyed and the buoyancy may be raised to cause the ship to ascend and descend as desired.” Drawings show the air ship had a hull much like a sailboat, with two large gasbags attached to the deck. A couple of pumps acted to fill the bags with gas, raising or lowering the ship according to the volume of gas pumped into the balloons. A propeller wheel at the back of the ship was driven by a gas engine located in the hull, and there was a rudder for steering. There is no indication of what size the invention was. Miss Page speculates his father struck on the idea of building an air ship after watching mosquito hawks fly through the clouds above the large (two-story) family home. “Have you ever seen a mosquito hawk?” she asks, sitting in her bedroom beside a large photo of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “They are fascinating,” she says. “I imagine Papa watched them for hours and finally tried to imitate their flight.” Miss Page relies on her imagination because by the time she came along—there was very little talk about the invention. After the air ship disappeared, the subject was dropped as a point of discussion. Other things seemed more important. There was, for instance, the matter of Page’s ideas on diversified farming, some of which were put into action, but none of which were credited to him. According to his daughter, it was Pages’ idea that farm tenants be given a place to homestead, furnished with a team, livestock, and fowls, and be allowed so many years to pay for them. He also had a vision of forming corporations among his race and at one time established a brickyard for neighboring blacks. Lack of cooperation, Miss Pace says, caused the venture to finally fail. Page further took an interest in clearing a cemetery for the black community and was instrumental in establishing the Lincoln Cemetery, where he was buried in 1937. All this was in addition to his career as a timberman, for which he was noted throughout the area. Page furnished the leading railroads with specified ties, telegraph companies with specified poles, and construction crews with beams for bridges. “He was meticulous in his work, whatever he was undertaking at the time,” Miss Page remembers. “When mother asked for a chicken coop, he would draw up plans for it and use all kinds of tapes and rules and other tools to build it. Mother insisted he didn’t need all that for a simple chicken coop, but Papa heeded thoroughness.” “Papa also heeded the belief that it was his duty to help his neighbors, individually as well as collectively. As a result, they called on him for all kinds of favors, from pulling teeth to building caskets. It was for these things,” Page says, “he is now remembered”. “Papa would have liked it,” she adds after a pause, “He always thought people were more important than air ships.” This article also showed a photograph of Page and the design of the air ship, a design reprinted from his original patent documents. The caption under the design says: “A side view of Charles Pages’ design for an air ship that could ascend and descend and be directed accompanied his application for a patent in 1903. The invention, finally patented in 1906, might have made the Pineville native famous, had it not been stolen enroot to the St. Louis World’s Fair, where Page planned to exhibit it. After the air ship disappeared, Page never built another one.” According to the December 18, 1974 Town Talk edition, in the legal’s section, the City of Pineville decided at the city council meeting of December 3, 1974, to request that the state department of highways rename the section of Highway 28 within the limits of the City of Pineville to be Page Road in honor of Charles Frederick Page. It was a unanimous vote. This entry has also been verified in the Pineville City Council minutes. (There is no evidence now of this section of the road ever carrying Pages’ name.) In the December 15, 1987 edition, under the section: 50 Years Ago In The Town Talk was an abbreviated obituary of Page and his accomplishments in filing the first patent for an airplane. In the August 8, 1999 edition, Pages’ accomplishments patenting the first airplane were noted again. In the July 2, 2001 edition, there was an article talking about what the decorations would be for the new Alexandria International Airport. Mark Molen, the architect for the airport, strongly urged the England Air Park Commission that a mural be made about Charles F. Page and his accomplishment of having the first patent for an airplane ahead of the Wright Brothers. Nothing more was ever said of this proposed mural in the paper. There is no further mention of the great Charles Frederick Page of Pineville in any newspaper or periodical. None of the seven local history books have any mention of Charles Frederick Page. On various national websites, Page is mentioned as having a patent for a version of the airplane issued before the Wright Brothers. Pages’ patent application (US817442A) was filed on April 24, 1903. The application was granted on April 10, 1906 (before the Wright Brothers patent was approved). The formal summary description of the air ship is as follows: An air ship includes a relatively rigid framework that is meant to resemble a sailing ship having an inclined bow, a rounded bottom, a vertical stern, vertical sides, and a flat upper deck. A plurality of lifting bladders carrying helium, or the like, are enclosed within the framework to make it lighter than air. Front and rear masts extend upwardly from the deck and carry front and rear sails on pivotal booms. A passenger and crew compartment is located on the deck behind the front and rear masts. The masts are pivotally supported on the framework to pivot laterally to one side or the other in the y-z plane to open up a gap there-between if so desired. A spinnaker or jib can be set forwardly of the masts in this gap to be fully exposed to wind from above the framework. Thus, the use of the sails for primary or supplementary propulsion of the framework is enhanced, and the deck enables passengers or crew to leave the compartment and be supported and carried by the deck. On July 12, 2020, Charles Pages’ oldest surviving grandson, Orris V. Cooper, Jr. of Iowa City, Iowa provided the following commentary on Charles Frederick Page: “I am very pleased to receive the news about the potential honor being considered for Grandfather Charles F. Page. In reference to the Original Drawing of the AIR SHIP, I recall seeing only the original drawing for a PARACHUTE that he designed. I did a quick search to see if I could find it; but no success. I will keep both items in mind when I do a more thorough search in the future.” References UNITED STATES PATENT OFFICE: CHARLES F. PAGE OF PINEVILLE, LA.; AIRSHIP; NUMBER 0817442; SPECIFICATIONS OF LETTER PATENT APPLIED APRIL 24, 1903; SERIAL NUMBER: 154,045; PATENTED APRIL 10, 1906. AN ARTICLE: “Loss of Flying Machine Dashed Possibility of Fame” published in the Alexandria Daily Town Talk: Sunday, May 12, 1974. This Article contained a picture of Page and Figure 1 of the Patent Document.
Emory Malick - United States Pilot # 105: First Licensed African American aviator, and first known Aviator in Central Pennsylvania Emory Conrad Malick Emory C. Malick, Curtiss Aviation School, 1912 Emory Conrad Malick (1881-1958) was the first licensed African American aviator, earning his International Pilot’s License (Federation Aeronautique Internationale, or F.A.I., license), #105, on March 20, 1912, while attending the Curtiss School of Aviation on North Island, San Diego, California. Mr. Malick was also the first African American pilot to earn his Federal Airline Transport License, #1716, in 1927. But his name is as yet unknown. Eugene Bullard flew for France in 1917, since, as a black American, he wasn’t permitted to fly for his own country during World War I. In 1921, another African American, the famed Bessie Coleman, also had to travel to France to earn her International Pilot’s License, and is credited with being the first black pilot to fly in the United States. James Herman Banning is considered to be the first African American to achieve his pilot’s license in the United States (and was, in fact, the first black pilot to earn a Limited Commercial License, circa 1927); and Charles Alfred “Chief” Anderson, the Chief Flight Instructor for the Tuskegee Airmen, has long been considered to be the first black pilot to earn a Federal Transport License, which he earned in 1932. But, in fact, Emory C. Malick preceded them all. Born on December 29, 1881, Emory grew up in central Pennsylvania, first in Seven Points, then in nearby Sunbury, Northumberland County. According to the U.S. Federal Census, he was living and working as a carpenter in both Lancaster and Philadelphia by the year 1910. On July 24, 1911, Mr. Malick made his first recorded flight in an engine-powered “aeroplane,” which took place in Seven Points. On September 5 and 7, 1912, Emory flew his biplane for a Labor Day celebration near Shamokin, Pennsylvania. In the summer of 1914, he obtained, assembled—and improved upon—his own Curtiss “pusher” biplane, which he flew over Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania, “to the wonderment of all!” thereby becoming the first pilot to soar through the skies of Snyder, in addition to Northumberland, Counties. He also built and flew his own gliders. In the Philadelphia area, Mr. Malick transported passengers for his Flying Dutchman Air Service, and he worked in aerial photography with the Aero Service Corporation and Dallin Aerial Surveys. He was also an airplane mechanic (license #924), as well as a carpenter and master tile-layer.
Benjamin Oliver Davis Jr. was born in Washington, D.C. on December 18, 1912. He was the second of three children born to Benjamin O. Davis and Elnora Dickerson Davis.
Eugene Jacques Bullard is considered to be the first African-American military pilot to fly in combat, and the only African-American pilot in World War I. Ironically, he never flew for the United States. Born October 9, 1895, in Columbus, Georgia, to William Bullard, a former slave, and Josephine Bullard, Eugene’s early youth was unhappy. He made several unsuccessful attempts to run away from home, one of which resulted in his being returned home and beaten by his father. In 1906, at the age of 11, Bullard ran away for good, and for the next six years, he wandered the South in search of freedom. In 1912 he stowed away on the Marta Russ, a German freighter bound for Hamburg, and ended up in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there he made his way to London, where he worked as a boxer and slapstick performer in Belle Davis’s Freedman Pickaninnies, an African American entertainment troupe. In 1913, Bullard went to France for a boxing match. Settling in Paris, he became so comfortable with French customs that he decided to make a home there. He later wrote, “… it seemed to me that French democracy influenced the minds of both black and white Americans there and helped us all act like brothers.” After World War I had begun in the summer of 1914, Bullard enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. While serving with the 170th Infantry Regiment, Bullard fought in the the Battle of Verdun (February to December 1916), where he was wounded seriously. He was taken from the battlefield and sent to Lyon to recuperate. While on leave in Paris, Bullard bet a friend $2,000 that despite his color he could enlist in the French flying service. Bullard’s determination paid off, and in November 1916 he entered the Aéronautique Militaire. Eugene Bullard Eugene Bullard Bullard began flight training at Tours in 1916 and received his wings in May 1917. He was first assigned to Escadrille Spa 93, and then to Escadrille Spa 85 in September 1917, where he remained until he left the Aéronautique Militaire. In November 1917, Bullard claimed two aerial victories, a Fokker Triplane and a Pfalz D.III, but neither could be confirmed. (Some accounts say that one victory was confirmed.) During his flying days, Bullard is said to have had an insignia on his Spad 7 C.1 that portrayed a heart with a dagger running through it and the slogan “All Blood Runs Red.” Reportedly, Bullard flew with a mascot, a Rhesus Monkey named “Jimmy.” Eugene Bullard Eugene Bullard with his Rhesus monkey, Jimmy After the United States entered the war in 1917, Bullard attempted to join the U.S. Air Service, but he was not accepted, ostensibly because he was an enlisted man, and the Air Service required pilots to be officers and hold at least the rank of First Lieutenant. In actuality, he was rejected because of the racial prejudice that existed in the American military during that time. Bullard returned to the Aéronautique Militaire, but he was summarily removed after an apparent confrontation with a French officer. He returned to the 170th Infantry Regiment until his discharge in October 1919. After the war Bullard remained in France, where he worked in a nightclub called Zelli’s in the Montmartre district of Paris, owned a nightclub (Le Grand Duc) and an American-style bar (L’Escadrille), operated an athletic club, and married a French woman, Marcelle de Straumann. During this time Bullard rubbed elbows with notables like Langston Hughes, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Josephine Baker. By the late 1930s, however, the clouds of war began to change Bullard’s life dramatically. Even before World War II officially began in 1939, Bullard became involved in espionage activities against French fifth columnists who supported the Nazis. When war came he enlisted as a machine gunner in the 51st Infantry Regiment, and was severely wounded by an exploding artillery shell. Fearing capture by the Nazis, he made his way to Spain, Portugal, and eventually the United States, settling in the Harlem district of New York City. After his arrival in New York, Bullard worked as a security guard and longshoreman. In the post-World War II years, Bullard took up the cause of civil rights. In the summer of 1949, he was involved in an altercation with the police and a racist mob at a Paul Robeson concert in Peekskill, New York, in which he was beaten by police. Another incident involved a bus driver who ordered Bullard to sit the back of his bus. These events left Bullard deeply disillusioned with the United States, and he returned to France, but was unable to resume his former life there. During his lifetime, the French showered Bullard with honors, and in 1954, he was one of three men chosen to relight the everlasting flame at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Paris. In October 1959 he was made a knight of the Legion of Honor, the highest ranking order and decoration bestowed by France. It was the fifteenth decoration given to him by the French government. In the epilogue to his well-researched book, Eugene Bullard, Black Expatriate in Jazz-Age Paris (Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 2000), Craig Lloyd points out the poignancy of Bullard’s situation in the United States: “The contrast between Eugene Bullard’s unrewarding years of toil and trouble early and late in life in the United States and his quarter-century of much-heralded achievement in France illustrates dramatically … the crippling disabilities imposed on the descendants of Americans of African ancestry … .” In 1992, the McDonnell Douglas Corporation donated to the National Air and Space Museum a bronze portrait head of Bullard, created by Eddie Dixon, an African American sculptor. This work is displayed in the museum’s Legend, Memory and the Great War in the Air gallery. Eugene Bullard Bronze sculpture of Eugene Jacques Bullard, currently on view at the National Mall Building Postscript: On September 14, 1994, Bullard was posthumously commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force. A display case in the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force in Dayton, Ohio, honors him.
Bessie Coleman (January 26, 1892 – April 30, 1926)[2] was an early American civil aviator. She was the first African-American woman and first Native American to hold a pilot license.[3][4][5][6] She earned her license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale on June 15, 1921,[4][5][7] and was the first Black person to earn an international pilot's license.[8] Born to a family of sharecroppers in Texas, Coleman worked in the cotton fields at a young age while also studying in a small segregated school. She attended one term of college at Langston University. Coleman developed an early interest in flying, but African Americans, Native Americans, and women had no flight training opportunities in the United States, so she saved and obtained sponsorships in Chicago to go to France for flight school. She then became a high-profile pilot in notoriously dangerous air shows in the United States. She was popularly known as Queen Bess and Brave Bessie,[9] and hoped to start a school for African-American fliers. Coleman died in a plane crash in 1926. Her pioneering role was an inspiration to early pilots and to the African-American and Native American communities. Early life Elizabeth Coleman (sometimes, Bessie)[10] was born on January 26, 1892, in Atlanta, Texas,[8] the tenth of thirteen children of George Coleman, a mixed African American who had Cherokee grandparents, and Susan Coleman, who was African American.[11][12] Nine of the children survived childhood, which was typical for the time.[11] When Coleman was two years old, her family moved to Waxahachie, Texas, where they lived as sharecroppers.[12] Coleman began attending school in Waxahachie at the age of six. She walked four miles each day to her segregated, one-room school, where she loved to read and established herself as an outstanding math student.[12] She completed her elementary education in that school.[12] Every year, Coleman's routine of school, chores, and church was interrupted by the cotton harvest. In 1901, George Coleman left his family. He returned to Oklahoma, or Indian Territory, as it was then called, to find better opportunities, but his wife and children did not follow. At the age of 12, Bessie was accepted into the Missionary Baptist Church School on scholarship. When she turned eighteen, she took her savings and enrolled in the Oklahoma Colored Agricultural and Normal University in Langston, Oklahoma (now called Langston University). She completed one term before her money ran out and she returned home.[13] Career Chicago In 1915, at the age of 23, Coleman moved to Chicago, Illinois, where she lived with her brothers. In Chicago, she worked as a manicurist at the White Sox Barber Shop. There she heard stories of flying during wartime from pilots returning home from World War I. She took a second job as a restaurant manager of a chili parlor to save money in hopes of becoming a pilot.[14] American flight schools of the time admitted neither women nor black people, so Robert S. Abbott, founder and publisher of the Chicago Defender newspaper, encouraged her to study abroad.[3] Abbot publicized Coleman's quest in his newspaper and she received financial sponsorship from banker Jesse Binga and the Defender.[14] France Bessie Coleman's aviation license issued on June 15, 1921 Bessie Coleman's photograph used in her aviation license issued on June 15, 1921 Coleman's aviation license issued on June 15, 1921 Bessie Coleman took a French-language class at the Berlitz Language Schools in Chicago and then traveled to Paris on November 20, 1920, so she could earn her pilot license. She learned to fly in a Nieuport 564 biplane with "a steering system that consisted of a vertical stick the thickness of a baseball bat in front of the pilot and a rudder bar under the pilot's feet."[15] On June 15, 1921, Coleman became the first black woman[8] and first Native American[16] to earn an aviation pilot's license and the first black person[8] and first Native American[16] to earn an international aviation license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale.[8] Determined to polish her skills, Coleman spent the next two months taking lessons from a French ace pilot near Paris and, in September 1921, she sailed for America. She became a media sensation when she returned to the U.S. Airshows The air is the only place free from prejudices. I knew we had no aviators, neither men nor women, and I knew the Race needed to be represented along this most important line, so I thought it my duty to risk my life to learn aviation... – Bessie Coleman[17] With the age of commercial flight still a decade or more in the future, Coleman quickly realized that in order to make a living as a civilian aviator she would have to become a "barnstorming" stunt flier, performing dangerous tricks in the air with the then-still-novel technology of airplanes for paying audiences. But, to succeed in this highly competitive arena, she would need advanced lessons and a more extensive repertoire. Returning to Chicago, Coleman could not find anyone willing to teach her, so in February 1922, she sailed again for Europe.[15] She spent the next two months in France completing an advanced course in aviation. She then left for the Netherlands to meet with Anthony Fokker, one of the world's most distinguished aircraft designers. She also traveled to Germany, where she visited the Fokker Corporation and received additional training from one of the company's chief pilots. She then returned to the United States to launch her career in exhibition flying.[15] "Queen Bess," as she was known, was a highly popular draw for the next five years. Invited to important events and often interviewed by newspapers, she was admired by both blacks and whites. She primarily flew Curtiss JN-4 Jenny biplanes and other aircraft that had been army surplus aircraft left over from the war. She made her first appearance in an American airshow on September 3, 1922, at an event honoring veterans of the all-black 369th Infantry Regiment of World War I. Held at Curtiss Field on Long Island near New York City, and sponsored by her friend Abbott and the Chicago Defender newspaper, the show billed Coleman as "the world's greatest woman flier"[18] and featured aerial displays by eight other American ace pilots, and a jump by black parachutist Hubert Julian.[19] Six weeks later she returned to Chicago, performing in an air show, this time to honor World War I's 370th Infantry Regiment. Coleman delivered a stunning demonstration of daredevil maneuvers – including figure eights, loops, and near-ground dips to a large and enthusiastic crowd at the Checkerboard Airdrome – now the grounds of Hines Veterans Administration Medical Center, Hines, Illinois, Loyola Hospital, Maywood, and nearby Cook County Forest Preserve.[20] The thrill of stunt flying and the admiration of cheering crowds were only part of Coleman's dream. Coleman never lost sight of her childhood vow to one day "amount to something." As a professional aviator, Coleman often would be criticized by the press for her opportunistic nature and the flamboyant style she brought to her exhibition flying. She also quickly gained a reputation as a skilled and daring pilot who would stop at nothing to complete a difficult stunt. In Los Angeles, she broke a leg and three ribs when her plane stalled and crashed on February 22, 1923.[9] Bessie Coleman, c. 1922 Committed to promoting aviation and combating racism, Coleman spoke to audiences across the country about the pursuit of aviation and goals for African Americans. She absolutely refused to participate in aviation events that prohibited the attendance of African Americans.[21] In the 1920s, she met the Rev. Hezakiah Hill and his wife Viola on a speaking tour in Orlando, Florida. The community activists invited her to stay with them at the parsonage of Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church on Washington Street in the neighbourhood of Parramore. A local street was renamed "Bessie Coleman" Street in her honour in 2013. The couple, who treated her as a daughter, persuaded her to stay, and Coleman opened a beauty shop in Orlando to earn extra money to buy her own plane.[22] Through her media contacts, she was offered a role in a feature-length film titled, Shadow and Sunshine, to be financed by the African American Seminole Film Producing Company. She gladly accepted, hoping the publicity would help to advance her career and provide her with some of the money she needed to establish her own flying school. But upon learning that the first scene in the movie required her to appear in tattered clothes, with a walking stick and a pack on her back, she refused to proceed. "Clearly ... [Bessie's] walking off the movie set was a statement of principle. Opportunist though she was about her career, she was never an opportunist about race. She had no intention of perpetuating the derogatory image most whites had of most blacks," wrote Doris Rich.[15] It's tempting to draw parallels between me and Ms. Coleman . . .[but] I point to Bessie Coleman and say here is a woman, a being, who exemplifies and serves as a model for all humanity, the very definition of strength, dignity, courage, integrity, and beauty. – Mae Jemison (first African-American woman astronaut)[23] Coleman would not live long enough to establish a school for young black aviators, but her pioneering achievements served as an inspiration for a generation of African-American men and women. "Because of Bessie Coleman," wrote Lieutenant William J. Powell in Black Wings (1934), dedicated to Coleman, "we have overcome that which was worse than racial barriers. We have overcome the barriers within ourselves and dared to dream."[24] Powell served in a segregated unit during World War I, and tirelessly promoted the cause of black aviation through his book, his journals, and the Bessie Coleman Aero Club, which he founded in 1929.[25][15] Death On April 30, 1926, Coleman was in Jacksonville, Florida. She had recently purchased a Curtiss JN-4 (Jenny) in Dallas. Her mechanic and publicity agent, 24-year-old William D. Wills, flew the plane from Dallas in preparation for an airshow and had to make three forced landings along the way because the plane had been so poorly maintained.[26] Upon learning this, Coleman's friends and family did not consider the aircraft safe and implored her not to fly it, but she refused. On take-off, Wills was flying the plane with Coleman in the other seat. She was planning a parachute jump for the next day, and wanted to examine the terrain as seen from the cockpit.[10] Coleman's grave at Lincoln Cemetery, near Chicago About ten minutes into the flight, the plane unexpectedly went into a dive and then a spin at 3,000 feet above the ground. Coleman was thrown from the plane at 2,000 ft (610 m), and was killed instantly when she hit the ground. Wills was unable to regain control of the plane, and it plummeted to the ground. He died upon impact. The plane exploded, bursting into flames. Although the wreckage of the plane was badly burned, it was later discovered that a wrench used to service the engine had jammed the controls. Coleman was 34 years old.[15] Funeral services were held in Florida before her body was sent back to Chicago. While there was little mention in most media, news of her death was widely carried in the African-American press. Ten thousand mourners attended her ceremonies in Chicago, which were led by activist Ida B. Wells.[10] Honors Atlanta, Texas, has a Regional History Museum which proudly displays a downscale reproduction version of Bessie Coleman's yellow bi-plane "Queen Bess." The museum display also includes a uniform and other memorabilia regarding the life and times of Bessie Coleman. Outside the regional history museum is a Texas Historical Marker located at 101 N. East Street in Historic Downtown, Atlanta, Texas. The road to the Hall-Miller Municipal Airport in Atlanta, Texas, is named Bessie Coleman Drive in her honor. A public library in Chicago was named in Coleman's honor,[27] as are roads at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago,[28] Oakland International Airport in California,[29] Tampa International Airport in Florida,[30] and at Germany's Frankfurt International Airport.[31] A memorial plaque has been placed by the Chicago Cultural Center at the location of her former home, 41st and King Drive in Chicago, and it is a tradition for African-American aviators to drop flowers during flyovers of her grave at Lincoln Cemetery.[32] A roundabout leading to Nice Airport in the South of France was named after her in March 2016, and there are streets in Poitiers, and the 20th Arrondissement of Paris also named after her.[33][34] Bessie Coleman Middle School in Cedar Hill, Texas, is named for her. Bessie Coleman Boulevard in Waxahachie, Texas, where she lived as a child is named in her honor.[35] B. Coleman Aviation, a fixed-base operator based at Gary/Chicago International Airport, is named in her honor.[36] Several Bessie Coleman Scholarship Awards have been established for high school seniors planning careers in aviation. The U.S. Postal Service issued a 32-cent stamp honoring Coleman in 1995.[37][38] The Bessie Coleman Commemorative is the 18th in the U.S. Postal Service Black Heritage series. In 2001, Coleman was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame.[39] In 2006, she was inducted into the National Aviation Hall of Fame.[40] In 2012, a bronze plaque with Coleman's likeness was installed on the front doors of Paxon School for Advanced Studies located on the site of the Jacksonville airfield where Coleman's fatal flight took off.[41] Coleman was honored with a toy character in season 5, episode 11a of the children's animated television program Doc McStuffins. She was placed No. 14 on Flying's 2013 list of the "51 Heroes of Aviation".[42] In 2014, Coleman was inducted into the International Air & Space Hall of Fame at the San Diego Air & Space Museum.[43] On January 25, 2015, Orlando renamed West Washington Street to recognize the street's most accomplished resident.[22] On January 26, 2017,[44] the 125th anniversary of her birth, a Google Doodle was posted in her honor.[45] In December 2019, The New York Times featured Coleman in their Overlooked (obituary feature): "Bessie Coleman, Pioneering African-American Aviatrix"[10] In 2021, when Juneteenth became a federal holiday, a flyover was held in Colorado to honor both her and the new holiday.[46] In 2021, the International Astronomical Union named a mountain (and possible volcano) on Pluto, Coleman Mons, in her honor. It is located on the edge of the heart-shaped Tombaugh Regio.[47][48] To commemorate the 100th anniversary of Coleman earning her flying license, in August 2022, American Airlines flew a commemorative flight from "Dallas-Fort Worth to Phoenix. The flight was operated by an all-Black Female crew — from the pilots and Flight Attendants to the Cargo team members and the aviation maintenance technician."[49][50] Coleman will be honored on an American Women quarter in 2023.[51] Bessie Coleman Elementary School in Corvallis, Oregon, is named after her.[52] In 2023, Mattel added a Bessie Coleman Barbie doll to its "Inspiring Women" series.[53] In 2023, The Flight, a play inspired by Bessie Coleman
1925 Army War College Report__________________________"The Use of Negro Manpower in War".___________________________History;_____Tuskegee Airmen Achievements contrasted____________________ Integration of African Americans in the United States Air Force by Vanni Johnson_________________ The United States Air Force has a long and proud history of service, courage, and innovation, but not all races were included. Historically, the U.S. military had been heavily segregated, with African Americans serving in separate units and facing systemic discrimination. However, a remarkable journey of change and progress has unfolded over the decades, leading to the integration of African Americans into the ranks of the USAF. This in-depth article explores the pivotal moments, challenges, and achievements of African Americans in the Air Force, shedding light on the transformation of the military and its impact on the broader struggle for racial equality. From the beginning, African Americans have been involved in the conflicts of America since 1619 when the first slaves were brought over to Virginia. The British enlisted enslaved blacks to help defend the colonies from any threat they may have encountered. The French Indian War, also known as the Seven Years’ War, began in 1754 between Great Britain and France. During this period of conflict, both the French and British colonists enlisted help from slaves.[1] Black men also fought in the Revolutionary War and contributed significantly. Both free and enslaved men served in mostly integrated units during the war, with the First Rhode Island Regiment being the most famous regiment that included African Americans.[2] This was possibly the most integrated United States army until the 20th century. During the American Civil War, Black men served in all Black units. About 179,000 black men, 10% of the Union army, served by the end of the war.[3] After the Civil War, all slaves were granted freedom, however, African Americans still had to deal with segregation within all aspects of American living including the United States Army. In 1914, when World War I had begun, the United States Army had no intention of employing black manpower if the country would somehow get involved in the conflict.[4] When the country entered the war in 1917, the army ultimately recruited about 400,000 black troops.[5] Most of these troops served in Service and Supply units while others were assigned to combat units. The armed forces, including the United States Air Service, were segregated, denying black servicemen equal opportunities and assignments. In 1925, the Army War College made a study titled, “The Use of Negro Manpower in War”. The report comprised several years of study that included many racist perceptions of black people. In Alan Gropman’s book titled “The Air Force Integrates,” the author talks about the report and the racial bigotry of it. He concluded that “black men believed themselves inferior to white men, that they were by nature subservient and that they lacked initiative and resourcefulness”.[6] It did not stop there, with African Americans often being perceived as very low on the scale of human evolution and that black officers lacked the mental capacity to command.[7] This kind of behavior is to be expected for this time in American history. Racial discrimination was at a high in the 1920s, and due to these points of view, African Americans found it hard to enter the army. By 1937, out of 360,000 men in the army, only 6,500 were black making up 1.8 percent of the total.[8] With the advent of World War II, the advocacy to admit Blacks into the United States Air Corps grew. The NAACP pressured the War Department to allow African Americans to Serve in the U.S. Army Air Corps and in 1939 the United States Congress called for the establishment of Black civilian pilot training schools allowing black men to train to become a part of the service.[9] Cornelius Coffey, an African-American aviator, stated that, “It was the first time the government became involved in paying for flight training for African Americans. Until then, we were on our own”.[10] Still, with many Black men graduating from these schools, the Air Corps would take none of the graduates. Gropman further states that “it pointed out that Black and whites could not mix and, since no provision had been made to create black air corps squadrons, they could not enlist because there were no units to which they could be assigned”.[11] Even when some kind of improvement was made, racial beliefs prevented progress. Despite the prevailing prejudices, World War II served as a catalyst for change. With the growing need for military personnel, discriminatory policies faced increasing scrutiny. When President Franklin Roosevelt was running for his third term in office, he sought a way to secure the black vote. With that in mind and the current state of the black community wanting to be a part of the air corps, a black squadron would be formed. On March 22, 1941, an all-black, 99th Pursuit Squadron was formed in Tuskegee, Alabama.[12] This group of African American men would be called the Tuskegee Airmen. In June of 1941, President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 8802, banning discriminatory employment practices by federal agencies and all unions and companies engaged in war-related work, further helping the progression of African Americans in the Military.[13] This would help Roosevelt become popular with the black community and ensured he secured the support of the black vote. The month after the order was signed, the Tuskegee Army Airfield was established in July 1941 with training beginning in November of the same year. There were 13 men in the first class including Officer Benjamin O. Davis, a black graduate of West Point. Born in 1912, he was the son of Benjamin Davis Sr a military man himself.[14] Davis was among the few Black men to graduate from West Point and graduated in the top 20% of his class.[15] He was well respected by the men in the squadron and was spoken highly of. One of the men stated that “Davis was very bright, ambitious, and self-controlled, which in my opinion was a result of his academy days. His intensity to achieve made people think of him as a martinet. That made him, to the outside observer, cold and he’s not; he’s a very warm person”.[16] The 99th might have had the most training of any Air Force unit but no overseas commander wanted them. That changed in April 1943, when the 99th arrived in North Africa.[17] The members of the unit knew that their performance would dictate the future of black aviation. On June 2, the 99th flew its first combat mission over Pantelleria, and on June 9th, they met their first enemy planes.[18] They would not detect any more enemy planes until January 1944 and this opened the door for some to be skeptical of black airmen.[19] This dry spell would cause one general to remark “ The Negro type has not the proper reflexes to make a first-class fighter piolet”.[20] Col. William W. Momyer, who was the commander of the 33rd which the 99th was a part of, wanted the 99th removed from combat.[21] Others defend the 99th squadron claiming that white units thrust into their first battle responded poorly. Benjamin Davis would argue that with more combat missions the more aggressive the group became. By January the group had improved and later that month, 15 of the Tuskegee airmen engaged with 16 German Focke-Wulf 190 destroying six and damaging 4.[22] This would not be the only success that would achieve during the war. These results would help die down the critics who claimed that they were not suited to be in the Air Force. Despite facing severe discrimination and being subjected to skepticism about their abilities, the Tuskegee Airmen demonstrated remarkable skill and bravery during their service. After the end of World War II, a shift was starting to form in America. The United States military was becoming the first to integrate into American society. Lt. Gen. Idwal H. Edwards, Air Force deputy chief of staff for personnel, pushed for the end of segregation labeling it “a waste of manpower”.[23] He noted the inefficiencies of only employing blacks in the limited structure of Negro units and vacancies.[24] The issue was that the surplus of black enlistees could not be employed due to segregation. Edwards’s attitude helped influence General Spaatz, the first Air Force chief of staff, to have an encouraging stance on integration.[25] April of 1948, in a letter to Lemuel E Graves of the Pittsburgh Courier, Spaatz promised that Blacks in the Air Force would be “used on a broader professional scale than has obtained heretofore” while also stating that all airmen would be granted the same opportunities regardless of their race.[26] In his summary paragraph, he wrote “It is the feeling of this Headquarters that the unlimited Air Force objective must be to eliminate segregation among its personnel by the unrestricted use of Negro personnel in free competition for any duty within the air force for which they may qualify”.[27] Racial issues were an ongoing concern of the President of the United States. President Harry Truman inherited the unresolved issue of African American civil rights from the previous Roosevelt administration. Prior to the election of 1948, Truman created the Committee on Civil Rights whose purpose was to strengthen the civil rights of people at the state and federal levels.[28] When he got the reports back, he found the issue was with America’s ideals and practices. Truman requested new laws that would help strengthen civil rights.[29] The Republican party had put more pressure on President Truman to do something more about civil rights than just talk about it. On July 26, 1948, the pivotal moment for the integration of the U.S. military occurred when President Harry Truman signed Executive Order 9981.[30] In the order, it stated that “It is hereby declared to be the policy of the President that there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity for all persons in the armed services without regard to race, color, religion, or national origin”.[31] This was Trumans greatest accomplishment when it comes to civil rights. By making this decision, he would gain the black vote in the upcoming 1948 election. More importantly, this landmark decision laid the foundation for integrating African Americans into the Air Force and other military branches. However, despite the order, progress was slow and met with resistance from some quarters. Many units still tried to prevent integrating blacks into their ranks. The United States Army claimed that integration was unnecessary. The Army Chief of Staff General Omar Bradley wanted to keep the units segregated. His remarks were highlighted in the Journal when he stated that “Most officers and enlisted men believed that the abolition of separate white and colored units would harm rather than help”.[32] While the Army was fighting against the new order, the Air Force welcomed it. By 1952, the Air Force had completely integrated. During the Korean War, there were still issues with the integration of black and white men regarding race. Problems such as housing, local segregation laws, and changing paradigms made the process difficult. However, some locations showed that it did not matter what someone’s race is and that different races could work together. The Pittsburgh Courier declared Yokota Air Base, Japan, a “perfect model of race harmony” noting that whites and blacks forgot about race and color.[33] Though the process of integration was not easy, the USAF was the model for other services to follow. The successful desecration of the United States Air Force has had a huge impact over the past 75 years. When we look at the state of African Americans serving today in the USAF, as of 2021, 15% of the personnel are African American.[34] They hold a variety of roles such as pilots, engineers, technicians, and administrative roles. Today, an African American man is the Air Force Chief of Staff. General Charles Q. Brown, Jr. became the first African American to not only lead the Air Force but any branch of the United States Armed Forces. With his receiving of that honor, African Americans have made great progress in the United States Air Force. Integrating African Americans into the United States Air Force represents a pivotal moment in the nation’s history. From the struggles of the Tuskegee Airmen to the implementation of Executive Order 9981, and the continuing fight for equality, African Americans have played an essential role in shaping the United States Air Force into a more diverse and inclusive service. While progress has been made, challenges remain, and ongoing efforts are required to ensure that the Air Force truly represents the diverse fabric of the nation it serves. The integration of African Americans into the Air Force serves as a testament to the enduring spirit of perseverance and dedication to equality, not only within the military but in the broader struggle for civil rights. References [1] “NPS Ethnography: African American Heritage & Ethnography.” n.d. Www.nps.gov. Accessed August 14, 2023. https://www.nps.gov/ethnography/aah/aaheritage/histcontextsf.htm [2] Wilberforce, Mailing Address: P. O. Box 428, and OH 45384 Phone: 937 352-6757 main park information line Contact Us. n.d. “African Americans in the Revolutionary War – Charles Young Buffalo Soldiers National Monument (U.S. National Park Service).” Www.nps.gov. https://www.nps.gov/chyo/learn/historyculture/african-americans-in-the-revolutionary-war.htm [3] Weidman, Budge. 2016. “Black Soldiers in the U.S. Military during the Civil War.” National Archives. August 15, 2016. https://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/blacks-civil-war [4] Gropman, Alan L. 1998. The Air Force Integrates, 1945-1964. Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press. p. 1. [5] Gropman, 1. [6] Gropman, 2 [7] Gropman, 2 [8] Gropman, 3 [9] Gropman, 5 [10] Holway, John. 2012. Red Tails : An Oral History of the Tuskegee Airmen. Mineola, N.Y.: Dover Publications. p. 19. [11]Gropman, 5 [12] Gropman, 7 [13] National Archives. 2021. “Executive Order 8802: Prohibition of Discrimination in the Defense Industry (1941).” National Archives. September 22, 2021. https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/executive-order-8802. [14]“National Museum of the United States Army.” n.d. Www.thenmusa.org. https://www.thenmusa.org/biographies/benjamin-o-davis-jr/. [15] “National Museum of the United States Army” [16] Holway, 54 [17] Gropman, 8 [18] Gropman, 8 [19] Gropman, 8 [20] Gropman, 9 [21] Gropman, 8 [22] Gropman, 9 [23] Gropman, 64 [24] Gropman, 64 [25] Gropman, 64 [26] Gropman, 64 [27] Gropman, 64 [28] Gropman, 74 [29] Gropman, 77 [30] National Archives. 2021. “Executive Order 9981: Desegregation of the Armed Forces (1948).” National Archives. September 28, 2021. https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/executive-order-9981. [31] “Executive Order 9981” [32] Gropman, 86 [33] Gropman, 107 [34] Kariuki, Kimberly Johnson and Jeremy. 2022. “Why Are There so Few African American Air Force Pilots?” FLYING Magazine. February 10, 2022. https://www.flyingmag.com/why-are-there-so-few-african-american-air-force-pilots/ Air Transport Command – Airlift During WWII
The establishment of an aviation course at the Tuskegee Institute in 1939 was the result of a national crusade by African Americans for broader participation in the nation's armed forces.
Crossing the Country with James H. Banning_________________________ Banning and Allen would attempt their flight in an Alexander Eaglerock—a two seat biplane—which Banning described as “put together [with] various cracked-up airplane parts.” When they took off on September 18, 1932, only four people came to see them off. The aviators hadn’t alerted the press, lest they fail. Notably, the aviators took off with only $25 dollars between them for the journey. Their plan was to raise the money they needed for the next leg of the journey at each stop, offering their benefactors the opportunity to sign the lower left wingtip of the aircraft which they called the “Gold Book.” They dubbed themselves the “Flying Hobos,” a tongue in cheek name, because of this plan to raise money as they went along. They intended to stop in towns where they knew someone—in part to have a head start on arranging lodging and fundraising. This plan was also one of personal safety. Not every place would be welcoming to Black pilots. In practice, things went differently than planned. Early in their journey they were forced to land in Lordsburg, New Mexico, where they didn’t know anyone. Allen pawned his flying suit to a community member for $10 to fund the next leg of the journey. Ultimately, their fundraise-as-you-go plan paid off, in which community members gave lodging, food, money—some farmers even siphoned gas out of their tractors for the plane. Some of the arrangements were very creative. For instance, landing in Pittsburgh, the editor of the Pittsburgh Courier (a Black newspaper) arranged for the men to meet with the Democratic party with Election Day fast approaching. The editor and Democratic party officials offered to cover remaining expenses, handle publicity, and help repair the Eaglerock for a return flight, if the men would write some first-person stories about their adventure and drop leaflets supporting the Democratic candidate, Franklin D. Roosevelt from the sky. The duo left Pittsburgh with 15,000 leaflets. “We were more than happy to throw them out of the plane to save weight,” Allen recalled in an oral history interview. Banning and Allen finally landed in Long Island, 3,330 miles away from Los Angeles on October 9, 1932. The entire journey took 21 days, only 41 hours and 27 minutes of which were spent aloft. The rest was spent on the ground, raising money, and repairing the plane between legs of the journey. However long the flight took, a record had been set. Banning and Allen were the first African American pilots to complete a coast-to-coast flight._________________________------- Banning and Allen had separately made their ways to Los Angeles at the invitation of William Powell. In 1929, Powell established the Bessie Coleman Aero Club, named for the late pioneering African-American stunt pilot. He developed a variety of programs to train blacks for employment in the region’s burgeoning aviation industry, and asked Banning to serve as the school’s chief pilot. In 1931, Powell staged the country’s first All-Negro Air Show. Fifteen thousand paying spectators turned out to watch the festive Colored Air Circus put on by the Five Blackbirds, African-American stunt fliers. That event’s success convinced Powell that aviation spectacle could help drum up interest in flying among African-Americans. In 1932, when a rumor spread of a $1,000 prize for the first black fliers to complete a transcontinental flight, Powell and copilot Irvin Wells set out, but crashed in the mountains of New Mexico. Shortly after, Banning and Allen decided to make an attempt, with no fanfare, hoping to become the first African-Americans to make the flight. Flying across the country was first accomplished some 20 years earlier by Calbraith Perry Rodgers and had been repeated four times since. Allen had originally considered making the flight solo; as he would later write, he was skeptical of some black pilots’ claims: “I was fed up [with] Negro aviators,” he wrote. “Most of their flying was done in the newspapers and very little on wings.” Instead, he headed for Los Angeles, apparently meeting Banning for the first time just four days before the two left on their transcontinental adventure. Alexander Eaglerock Put together from several airplanes, Banning and Allen’s Alexander Eaglerock looked like but wasn’t as spiffy as this one, flying at a 2007 Midwest antique fly-in. As the Eaglerock took off, Allen plotted their route: They would zigzag from Los Angeles southwest through Arizona and across to Texas, then veer northeast into Oklahoma and through the Midwest, and finally turn due east toward their final destination, outside New York City. The flight plan took them through towns where the pilots knew someone. Allen would write in his manuscript, “I planned not to get any person or group of people in one town to give more money than just enough to put us into another town where we were known. I also told Banning we did not intend to pay for a night’s lodging on the way, but might have to pay for some of our meals.” In the depths of the Great Depression, that was asking a great deal of people who were often too poor to feed their own families. But the two men had no alternative; they would have to rely on the support of segregated black communities that lay along the course Allen had mapped. Allen said, according to William Powell’s 1934 book Black Wings, “Gee, we’ll be just like hobos, begging our way.” Banning was inspired by the thought: “We’ll capitalize on our plight. We’ll call ourselves the ‘Flying Hobos.’ ” They decided not to christen their airplane with some catchy name or even alert the press, recalled Banning, fearing they might “make announcements and then fall down.” If they succeeded, he later told the Chicago Defender, they would “then let others herald it.” As the Eaglerock headed toward Yuma, Arizona, Allen recalled, “It got so hot that I took off my overalls and unbuttoned my shirt. The water was boiling in the radiator and the slip stream from the propeller was blowing it through a hole in the cowling.” When the fliers reached Yuma, the airport attendant recognized Banning: “Aren’t you the same fellow who landed here two years ago and blew a tire?” Banning said he was. The man remembered that Banning made a three-point landing before he hit a pothole in the runway, damaging the airplane. The airport replaced the runway with a modern asphalt strip. “Your accident is the cause of us having a real airport now,” the man said. Banning wasn’t shy: “That should be worth at least a tank of gasoline.” Soon, they were flying on to Tucson. They flew through the dusk, “from one beacon light to the next,” wrote Allen, landing just after dark. Early the next day, as they prepared to take off, Allen noticed gas dripping from the carburetor. After fixing a leaky float, they flew into the already fierce desert heat. On a northerly heading, they flew low through the Apache Pass, then descended toward El Paso. Their fuel nearly gone, they set down in southwest New Mexico. They were broke and stuck in Lordsburg, a town where they knew nobody. The population was mostly “Mexicans and Indians,” said Allen in a 1982 oral history conducted by Phil Hart, “and when we told them that we were trying to make a transcontinental flight, they said ‘We don’t care what Negroes are doing, we are having a hard enough time eating.’ ” Banning (right) penned a series of popular articles Banning (right) penned a series of popular articles: “Put on your flying togs, kind friend, because you are going to be our imaginary passenger on a very real flight.” Desperate for a few gallons of gas to get them along to better pickings, Allen pawned a flying suit and his watch for $10 to a member of the community named Mr. R.C. Hightower. He then invited Mrs. Hightower to sign the Gold Book; she “was thrilled to have her name fly all the way to New York,” wrote Allen. They flew by dead reckoning; in the high desert, thin air kept them close to the ground (“never more than two hundred feet from the top of the sagebrush,” wrote Allen) in their underpowered airplane. The engine was rated at 100 horsepower but, Banning joked, “Some of the horses are dead.” West of El Paso the Eaglerock faced its first major test: crossing over the 8,000-foot El Capitan, which rose up like a watch tower at the southern terminus of an enormous limestone castle wall. There was no way to fly around the range and still have enough gas to reach El Paso. Suddenly a squall brewed up in front of them. They had no choice but to head straight into the dark clouds. Driving rain battered them. Banning strained for a view of El Capitan’s rocky top. “Engulfed, flying blind,” Banning wrote for the Pittsburgh Courier. “We can’t see our own wing tips,” let alone the ground. Terrified, he realized too late, “We are fools to fly through this without proper equipment.” His heart pounding, he thought, “A stall or spin here would be fatal!” They gradually descended until they finally found better visibility and, to their relief, not a rocky face to crash into. Once on the ground in El Paso, they had to face their next hurdle. They were almost 1,000 miles into their journey and broke again. They sent a telegram to a friend in California, asking for $25. Plotting a course toward Dallas, they flew along the railroad tracks between towns, sometimes landing in farm fields where farmers went slack-jawed at the sight of two black men descending from the sky. After the farmers got over their shock, they sometimes invited the men home for a meal. Banning and Allen managed to charm a few into siphoning gas from their tractors to speed them on their way. After overnighting in the tiny west Texas oil patch town of Wink, they hopscotched to Wichita Falls, Texas, a town where Banning’s wife had relatives. When they landed at the airfield there shortly before dark, a local newspaper reporter happened to be on hand. The pair spent the night with Banning’s in-laws. When they returned to the airport the next morning, Allen said in his oral history, they were stunned to find that close to 1,000 people had gathered on the field. The local newspaper had run a story about their transcontinental project. Making their way through the crowd, they confessed to being broke. “Let’s give them a little help!” somebody called out. In a few minutes Banning and Allen were climbing back into their cockpits $125 richer. They flew into Oklahoma, where both men had family. They stopped in El Reno, where Banning visited his brother; Allen reunited with his mother in Oklahoma City. The next day, the two began knocking on doors, asking people to help them achieve their personal goal and advance the race and an entire nation. Amazingly, people with barely enough to feed themselves took up collections. Families offered beds and meals. Signatures began to cover the doped canvas. 1 / 2 Heavyweight boxing champ Joe Louis (second from left) visited William Powell’s aviation workshop in the late 1930s, and donated money to the flying school. Word of their attempt to fly across the country made it to the black press, and radio stations and newspapers issued reports on their progress. Learning of Banning and Allen’s approach, people began to watch for their arrival. When they landed in Tulsa, William Skelly, a wealthy white oilman, was waiting at the city airport. Though not a pilot, he owned a small airplane factory and flight school and had put together the syndicate that built the city airport. He offered to fund the two all the way to St. Louis. They stopped in Carthage, Missouri, then pushed on. ********** Learning more about the flight and the struggles the aviators encountered, Jaggar and her research partner, Pat Smith, decided to pursue a multimedia project about the aviators’ lives, including an exhibit, a website, videos, and the play. They found actors for the roles of Banning and Allen, and raised funds to bring the play to schools and libraries in underserved communities. They reached out to aviation historians, including Von Hardesty, who co-curated the National Air and Space Museum’s seminal 1982 exhibit, “Black Wings: The American Black in Aviation,” and co-wrote an accompanying book with the same title. Racial segregation “created a parallel world of flying,” notes Hardesty, “[resulting in] all-black flying clubs, airshows, and training programs. The main task for early black aviation pioneers was to break out of this pattern of segregation. One highly visible [way] was to establish new air records.” Thousands of people were on hand in St. Louis to greet the Flying Hobos. One newspaper reported on their attempt at the transcontinental journey in the depths of the Great Depression: “What will come of this flight and this record remains to be seen. But it is certainly stimulating that we have heroes who come to light in this very worst of times.” In St. Louis, though, the men realized their airplane’s overtaxed engine needed to be rebuilt. They did not have the money to buy the parts for it. Both men knew people in town, though, including a teacher at a trade school, who said that the school could completely rebuild the engine. The students soon had the OXX-6 running. The two flew to Springfield, Illinois, on to Terre Haute, Indiana, and then, after a few days’ rest in Columbus, Ohio, they took off confident they could reach their goal. Within a few minutes, though, the engine began shaking so hard they thought the whole aircraft might fall apart. They had to set down. They were flying over rolling farmland and patchy forest. All Banning could see were “Trees, bushes, stumps!” He glided down, managing to pull the nose up enough to get over a fence before side-slipping into a rough landing on a plowed field. Banning and Allen inspected their aircraft. “Not a scratch on the ship,” remarked a proud Banning. “You don’t die every time your motor does,” he noted later on. They were somewhere outside the town of Cambridge, Ohio. Allen spent the night beneath the wing while Banning made his way back to Columbus. Once there, he found an airplane parts supplier who told him to take whatever he needed, on the house. Banning would die Banning would die just four months after his epic flight, in an airshow crash. “We [are] still flying,” the delighted Allen remarked. But the closer they got to their endpoint, New York, the more anxious they grew. They flew with the gnawing fear, said Allen, of “getting within a few miles of our destination and absolutely run[ning] out of the last drop of gasoline.” Then came what he called “one of the greatest stops…of the whole flight.” When Banning and Allen landed in Pittsburgh, they telephoned the offices of the Pittsburgh Courier, one of the country’s leading black newspapers. Courier publisher Robert L. Vann drove out to the airport and brought the pair downtown, where they were heralded like conquering heroes. Election Day was approaching, so Vann took them to meet state Democratic Party officials in town. Seeing a chance to exploit the young men’s fame and airplane, party officials enlisted them to publicize Franklin D. Roosevelt’s presidential campaign during their flight east over Pennsylvania. In return for dropping handbills supporting the Democratic ticket and writing first-person stories about their cross-country adventures, Vann and the Democratic Party promised to cover the men’s remaining expenses, handle publicity for them, and pay to put the Eaglerock back in shape for a return flight to California. They took off with gunny sacks filled with some 15,000 leaflets. “We were more than happy to throw them out of the plane to save weight,” Allen recalled in his oral history. They watched as the papers fluttered down and “just about completely littered Pennsylvania.” They flew to Bala Cynwyd, outside Philadelphia, then to West Trenton for their last night on the road. Around eight in the crisp and sunny fall morning of October 9, they cranked the OXX-6 engine one final time. “Old Sol seems to be smiling on our success,” Banning thought. A little over an hour later, the two aviators circled the towers of Manhattan. Not long after, they looked down upon what Banning called “the biggest thrill of our trip—our goal…. I feel like looping the loop!” he exclaimed. ********** ____________________________ jhbanning.com What Makes a Hero? Meet James Herman Banning and Find Out!! James Herman BanningOn November 5, 1899, James Herman Banning arrived in the world, just as the age of flight began its takeoff. His mother first cradled him in her arms the same year Orville and Wilbur Wright started their quest to build a flying machine. As the boy called Herman learned to walk and talk on his family’s rural Oklahoma homestead, the Wright brothers studied lift, propulsion and control. And on Dec. 17, 1903, when the Wright brothers took to the sky in a propeller-driven aircraft at Kill Devil Hills in North Carolina, Herman was still just learning to leap and jump. At six years old, he tore across the red dirt fields of his family’s farm, the string of a kite held tightly in his hand. As he looked longingly up at the speck of paper on its cross of sticks flapping against the deep blue of the Oklahoma sky, the Wright brothers were completing their most impressive feat yet, an unprecedented 39-minute triumph over Earth’s gravity. And at that moment, Banning knew he wanted to fly as well. Mainstream America had used the voice of prejudice and hatred to decide that African Americans shouldn’t be allowed in the sky. America decided to judge Banning’s ability on the basis of his skin color. Banning didn’t listen. He heard a completely different voice, one that said, “You can fly!” He tried to sign up with several flight schools. They all turned him down. No school or individual would lend Banning the plane he needed so that he could complete his required solo hours in the air. Banning refused to be daunted. He bought the engine from Fisher’s crashed plane and accumulated plane and auto scraps to build Miss Ames. Flying his rickety homemade craft, he earned his solo flight hours and became the first African-American pilot licensed by the Department of Commerce in the United States. Banning news clippingsBanning believed strongly that freedom in the sky would help create freedom on the ground. He came up with an audacious plan to become the first African-American to fly across the country during the Great Depression, a time when all communities were looking for heroes to take their minds off dire economic straits. He wanted to be an aviation hero like Charles Lindbergh. But Lucky Lindy had a custom-built plane and scads of money from financial backers to pave the way to achieving his dream of flying across the Atlantic. Lindy also had the blessing of the major newspapers, who covered his every move. Banning had no backers and owned a dilapidated plane with a 14-year-old engine. And none of the large newspapers would bother writing about him. Banning went looking for supporters on his own. He found a gifted mechanic named Thomas Cox Allen, who bought into the adventure for $200. Allen came up with the ingenious idea to fund their flight by soliciting small donations from people in each town they landed in, whether a warm meal, a place to sleep, or money for gas for the next leg of their journey. The donors would then inscribe their names on what Banning and Allen called “The Gold Book” — the wing of their plane. In this way, each contributor would share in a piece of history. Twenty-four communities participated and sixty-five individuals inscribed their names on The Gold Book, as Banning and Allen made their way across America. The dreams of many flew with them. Because they were black and had no money, Banning and Allen not only had to fly the “crate;” they had to be able to service it as well. As Banning and Allen finally started to attract some attention, they became known as “the suntanned editions of Lindy.” After an exhausting, adventure-filled twenty-one days of flight, Banning gloriously circled the Statue of Liberty and put down at Valley Stream Airport, in the suburbs of New York City. Read James Herman Banning’s life story, On Freedom’s Wings, and find out more about his struggles and triumphs! Not on Facebook? Leave a comment without signing in! “You know this motor is getting old, and while originally, it developed 100 horse power I have reason to believe that some of the horses are dead.” Banning during the transcontinental flight Website by Flint Hills Design | Log in
On July 17, 1933, two pilots, Dr. Albert Forsythe and C. Alfred Anderson became the first black men to make a cross-country flight from Bader Field in Atlantic City. The men successfully made the trip without lighting or a radio, with only an altimeter and a map. They coasted to Los Angeles in their plane, which was named The Pride of Atlantic City. When the men returned, they were greeted with a parade. Dr. Forsythe had purchased the Pride of Atlantic City earlier that year for $2,000. After taking leave of his medical practice, he joined with Anderson and learned to fly from a white flight instructor in Philadelphia – the only place blacks could learn to fly in the country. The fact that the men learned to fly from a white instructor during a peak time of segregation made their accomplishment remarkable. They took flight in July and were sponsored by the Atlantic City Board of Trade. Once Forsythe and Anderson completed their first flight, they expanded their journey to include trips to Montreal and the Caribbean, which was Dr. Forsythe’s birthplace (Nassau, Bahamas). Two years later, Dr. Albert Forsythe returned to his medical practice and C. Alfred Anderson worked as an instructor at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. Dr. Albert Forsythe was inducted into the New Jersey Aviation Hall of Fame in 1985 and died one year later.
