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Today, the nose cone was being mounted.
The bow section was a thing of beauty: gently arcing longitudinal struts that met near the point at a small circular opening crisscrossed with aluminum support beams. It was delicate in design, sturdy in appearance, and detailed in the extreme. The crane operator dropped a hook into the center and waited while a harness was attached.
Then the crane operator raised the piece a few feet into the air to check the balance. Satisfied, the operator radioed down for the workers to attach another pair of lines starboard and port. These were attached to a second set of cranes. Once the cone was rigged, it was slowly hoisted upright, rotated sideways, and then brought alongside the main section of the hull.
Once positioned, the bow section was moved inch by inch into perfect alignment, then temporarily pi
By July, the engines, propellers, water-recovery system, and other mechanical parts were being installed. On August 8, 1931, U.S.S. Akron was christened at a ceremony in Akron, Ohio. September 23 would be her maiden flight.
U.S.S. Akron, the latest U.S. military airship, came from a long line that stretched back to the country’s formation. President George Washington witnessed the first U.S. balloon flight in January 1793, when Frenchman Jean-Pierre Blanchard touched down from Philadelphia. Years later, the Civil War brought balloon development on both the Union and Confederate sides. Even so, it was not until the turn of the twentieth century that development truly accelerated.
In France in 1903, Albert Santos-Dumont built a successful powered dirigible, which he flew over the Parisian rooftops. A half-dozen years later, fellow Frenchman Louis Bleriot made a successful crossing of the English Cha
That first group was primarily concerned with airplanes, but there were students of lighter-than-air flight as well. By the year 1911, the British military had proved the worth of airships by successfully using them for North Sea patrol duty. That same year in Germany, Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin began the first commercial airline, with a total of five dirigibles in service.
World War I saw the first airship attack, as German lighter-than-air craft bombed London. Aviation was moving from science to practicality, and the uses continued to grow. By 1921, the U.S. Navy was compelled to form a new bureau to handle aeronautics. The bureau would be led by Admiral William A. Moffett. Almost immediately, the program suffered losses. On August 24, 1921, while undergoing trials near Hull, England, the airship that the navy had pla
But the program forged on.
Using L-49, a captured German zeppelin, construction was under way on a similar 680-foot airship, to be designated ZR -1. She was scheduled to fly in 1923. In the meantime, only two weeks before the crash of ZR-2, the navy had taken delivery of an Italian-made semirigid airship they would name Roma. Quite honestly, Roma was a pile of trash. Her half-dozen Asaldo engines were found to be unreliable and were later replaced with U.S.-made Liberty engines. Her outer covering contained a total of 184 holes that needed patching. Once those hurdles were overcome, she took to the air. At this time, hydrogen gas was used instead of the safer helium because of cost. Roma made a few flights powered by the unstable gas.
On February 22,1922, however, all went wrong.
While on a flight from Langley Field to Hampton Roads, Virginia, the pilot was unable to control the unwieldy airship. Striking a telephone pole that sparked, the Italian craft burst into flames. Of the forty-five aboard, thirty-four were killed and eight injured. Remarkably, three on board exited the wreckage virtually unscathed. The incident forced the U.S. Navy to take a hard look at using hydrogen as a lifting agent and at the aeronautics program as a whole.
By 1927, when Charles Lindbergh made his historic solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean, the U.S. Navy had only a single airship in service, Los Angeles, which had been constructed in Germany. Around this time, the navy put out contract specifications for the construction of two large airships to supplement the fleet. The bid was won by the Goodyear-Zeppelin Corporation, based in Akron, Ohio. Two years later, in 1929, interest in lighter-than-air craft increased. The German airship Graf Zeppelin attempted a round-the-world flight, which was featured daily in the Hearst newspapers.
That same year, the U.S. Navy took delivery of ZMC-2, a pudgy, metal-clad zeppelin that featured eight tail fins arranged at equal intervals around the stern. From the rear, ZMC-2 had the appearance of an airplane nose cone, complete with stubby propellers. ZMC-2’s length was just under 150 feet, and she was powered by a pair of 200-horsepower Wright Whirlwind engines.
The next year, initial construction began on U.S.S. Akron.
Tuesday, October 24, 1931, was a big day. Today Akron was due to be commissioned. In the huge hangar at the Rigid Airship and Experimental Squadron at Lakehurst, New Jersey, the crowd was filled with dignitaries. President Litchfield of the Goodyear-Zeppelin Corporation led the speeches.
The entire affair was broadcast on NBC affiliate WEAF for nationwide consumption. From New York City, John Phillip Sousa and his band performed a lively rendition of “Anchors Aweigh.” From Baltimore, Secretary of the Navy Charles Francis Adams made remarks, followed by Assistant Secretary of the Navy David Ingalls. From Washington, Rear Admiral William Moffett added his comments.
Back in New Jersey, the future commander of Akron, Captain Charles Rosendahl, listened to the ceremony in amusement. Rosendahl was no rookie to zeppelins. As senior surviving officer aboard the ill-fated U.S.S. Shenandoah, Rosendahl was known as a courageous airman. After that, Rosendahl had spent some years as skipper of Los Angeles, and had been a participant on Graf Zeppelin’s round-the-world cruise.
Rosendahl was seasoned and ready.
Five days after the ceremony, Akron made her first official flight. The passenger list included 10 officers and 49 men. This load was complemented by 31 members of the press and 19 other guests. Total passenger load was 109. Once everyone was aboard, Rosendahl began the orders to lift off.
“Engines three, four, seven, and eight,” Rosendahl said, “tilt toward ground.”
An airman repeated the instructions.
“Course two, seven, zero,” Rosendahl said.
“Roger,” the helmsman said.
The time was 7:15 A.M. Akron was flying south toward A
“There’s the academy,” Milton Perkins, the rumpled Associated Press reporter, remarked.
His compatriot from the New York Times, Harold Temper, stared down at his wristwatch. “I make it twenty minutes past nine.”