The View from Above

 

It's basic human nature.
When you find yourself
in an unfamiliar locale,
you stop, take a look around,
and consider the scenery.

Sometimes your curiosity is rewarded
when you see something
unexpected or novel.

Often it's just the satisfaction
of gaining a new perspective
on a familiar place.

But generally after one look
most folk just keep moving.
Life's too short to waste time
looking around.
There's too much to do.

Once upon a time
the proverbial birds-eye-view
was something people only observed
from atop a tall tree or a high roof,
or if they were lucky enough
to live in a mountainous region,
from a steep hillside or precipitous cliff.

Then in around 1900
reports began to circulate
of incredible new inventions
called flying machines.

The first ones were strangely lighter than air
and capable of floating amongst the clouds.

Then others came that were
heavy mechanical marvels
that flew on wings like a bird.

These new exciting wonders
quickly captured the imagination
of the public.

And they also caught the eye
of enterprising photographers
who came up with a clever way
for anyone to reach astonishing altitudes

and get a clear view from above the ground.
It was surprisingly easy, cheap,
and without any risk at all. 

So safe even your mother
could take a ride in one. 

My first photo postcard is a picture of a young man with his parents floating in a wicker basket high above Lake Geneva gazing down at the resort town of Montreux, Switzerland. They have a splendid view of the picturesque lake and Switzerland's majestic alps shining in the distance.

The family appear to be quite high, about 2,400 ft according to what I found at the modern viewpoint from Google Earth. Oddly the photographer is either hanging from a rope off the edge of the balloon, which we can't actually see, or they have a camera on a primitive selfie-stick. Junior looks like he is proudly wearing a new suit and bowler hat. He also seems to be in control of their balloon, holding onto the gas release line. Father and mother seem unconcerned and full of  trust that their son knows how to use the sandbags and anchor attached to the balloon's gondola. I hope they brought some snacks to eat. 

The postcard was sent from Montreux on 20 March 1909. The postmarks are a bit unclear, but the writer left a date and year in the upper left corner. It is addressed to someone, Madame Repelaer(?), of La Haye, Holland, i.e. The Hague, Netherlands, which, as far as I know, has no vistas as grand as this.  

* * *

My second photo shows two gentlemen flying a monoplane high above some place on the French coastline. They are maybe a few hundred feet above the shoreline as we can see a person running along the beach towards a small tent. In the mid-distance is a long pier with maybe a large casino or pavilion at the end. There is quite a crowd flying this day as there are three other planes in the sky. 

We know it must be in France because there is a French stamp and postmark. Unfortunately it is smudged but the letters: OUVILLE MER are clear and the only commune in France that matches is Trouville-sur-Mer on the Normandy coast about 8 miles (13 km), as a seagull flies, south from the port of Le Havre on the English Channel.  

These fellows are also piloting a single wing aeroplane supposedly built by the French aviation pioneer, Louis Blériot (1872–1936). His name is on the side of the fuselage, but I have a feeling this aeroplane's rigging and engine would not pass his quality standards. I'm not sure the meaning of the numbers 107 next to his name or the 12 on the tail rudder. Here is what one of his first twin-seat aeroplanes looked like. 

This was a Blériot XI-2 manufactured in 1910 with "côte-à-côte" ~ side-by-side seats. This one had a 50 hp engine and was built for a company in Rotterdam. Louis Blériot was a very talented engineer and is credited with developing the first successful monoplane design, the Blériot VII, which first flew on 16 November 1907 for a distance of 500 m (1,600 ft). Two years later on 25 July 1909 Blériot became the first aviator to fly across the English Channel, winning a prize of £1,000 offered by the Daily Mail newspaper.

 Between 1909 and the start of war in August 1914, Blériot's manufacturing company produced around 900 aircraft. He would go on to contribute many important advances in aviation design during the war and beyond into the post-war years. In 1927 Blériot was among those who welcomed Charles Lindbergh when he landed at Le Bourget field completing his transatlantic flight. 

On the back of this postcard is a short note, presumably from one of the men, that reads: Trouville, Souvenir de Ballade(sic), 14 Juillet.  I believe the writer has misspelled "ballade ~ song" and instead meant "balade ~ ride."

* * *

This poor guy is flying high above a city in an weird aircraft that could have come from one of  Jules Verne's adventure novels. It's sort of a biplane but the design with a chariot fuselage, tiny propellor, and short angled wings does not look very airworthy. At least he has a good view of another mountain. However it's not in the alps but in the Cascade Range of Oregon. He is above Portland, Oregon with Mount Hood, one of North America's major volcanoes looming on the skyline. On the tail is the name "Portland" and a flag next to his steering wheel reads "The Rose City", its nickname. 

Evidently this man thought his picture needed no explanation as he left no message. It was sent from Portland on 20 December 1912 to Mrs. Gorhnak (?) of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I hope she was not too alarmed by his risky stunt. The other postmark advertises the World's Panama-Pacific Exposition to be held in San Francisco in 1915. The photographer was the City Park Gallery on Washington St. in Portland. It offered postcards made in 10 minutes. That's a pretty fast time for both takeoff and landing. 

* * *

My last fellow getting a view from above also sits in a biplane that is flying over a city and a river. However this aircraft looks like it is missing a lot of crucial parts, like an engine, fuel tank, tail rudder, and tires for the wheels. He does have a good grip on the big steering wheel, though what it is controlling is not clear. The aeroplane has a vague resemblance to the Wright brothers' flyer but their design was much more sensible. 

The scene of this riverside city might be familiar if you ever been to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I didn't recognize it at first but the photographer left a printed note on the back. Novelty Oiti Studio, 13 Federal St., N. S. Pittsburgh, PA. The postmark date is obscured, maybe December, but the year is clear, 1913. It was sent to Reynolds Borringer of Altoona, Pennsylvania.

I em hier      
and I Didnt
get my  job  
yet              
F. B.

When I was 13 years old my dad arranged for me to join him for a weekend in New York City where he was taking an army training course. For this trip I was given a special treat to fly by myself from Newport News, Virginia to New York while my mom stayed home. The flight went to La Guardia airport, I think, but I don't remember anything about that except that you boarded by walking outdoors onto the tarmac and up movable stairs into the airplane. The airline might have been TWA or Piedmont, both long gone now, with passenger planes powered by prop engines. 

From the outside the plane was not particularly large, about the size of a couple of Greyhound buses, but from the inside it seemed to have a generous amount of room. I had a window seat and was glued to the view from takeoff to landing. Prior to this trip my dad had given me a camera for my birthday, a little Minolta 16mm spy camera. The clouds above and landscape below was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was so amazing that I took at least three spools of film snapping pictures of what I could see out the window. The tiny color slides didn't really do justice to that view from above.

It was a feeling of wonder that I have rarely experienced so vividly. Two years latter I felt that awesome feeling again when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin took mankind's first steps on the moon on the Apollo 11 mission. I didn't watch it on TV but instead listened to it happen on a transistor radio while at a campsite on a vacation to Minnesota. 

In the early years of the 20th century no one really knew what to expect from any kind of aircraft. Flying, either in a balloon or in an airplane, had previously been just a silly daydream or absurd  fictional story. But when the first aviators like Graf Zeppelin, Orville and Wilbur Wright, Louis Blériot, and many others  began to have success with their inventions of airships and aeroplanes, suddenly a new inspiring idea was released to the world. Soon everyone could fly like a bird. Human flight was no longer a fantasy. 

When the people in these novelty postcards posed for the camera they were having a good time, enjoying a new place, and having fun by pretending to fly. They didn't care that they were standing inside a painted contraption on a studio stage. It all seemed plausible. They looked like they were flying. How thrilling was that? The power of imagination has no limits. It took us to the moon and back.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where the table is spread

and everyone is ready to dig in.