EARLY AVIATORS, A FILM STAR PILOT, AND WELSH INCIDENTS
Robert Loraine (pictured above) as John Tanner in George Bernard Shaw's Man and Superman, produced at the Criterion Theatre, London, on 28 September, 1911
EARLY AVIATORS: FILM STAR ROBERT LORAINE, MABEL LOVE, AND SOME WELSH MEMORIES
Exclusive report by Don Hale.
During the early days of World War One, and as a raw recruit to the British Army, the world-famous actor Robert Lorraine volunteered to join the newly-formed Royal Flying Corps, where his experience in early aviation often proved invaluable.
He also helped form the early ENSA troop of actors, entertaining the troops in battlefields in France and Belgium. He encouraged fellow members of the RFC and RNAS forces to join in the fun, and eventually helped utilise and launch the careers of many famous performers who also went onto to further fame and fortune.
Included within this group at one time or another, were said to be: Ivor Novello, Jack Warner, Billy Cotton, Mervyn Johns, Basil Rathbone, Vernon Castle, Lewis Carson, Russell Thorndike, and Felix Aylmar.
After the war, he later directed and produced some of his own productions. He continued to star in many famous worldwide shows including Broadway and often accompanied Basil Rathbone in a series of star-studded West End and popular touring shows.
Loraine also appeared in some of the first silent and talking movies of the decade. He was considered a flamboyant personality and remained a close friend of George Bernard Shaw.
Some claimed the playwright even regarded him as a surrogate son and after the turn of the century, and during perhaps the most popular time of Loraine’s interesting career, he toured the United States in one of Shaw’s plays – ‘Man and Superman.’
His early exploits on the stage helped to fund his extravagant lifestyle and his ongoing love of aviation. His American tour earned him more than £40,000 profit and financed the purchase of the plane that eventually crash-landed at Rhos-on-Sea, in North Wales, which cost him an incredible £7,000, plus maintenance costs.
First radio transmission from a plane – background to an adventurer and pioneer
During the autumn of 1910, and just a few months after his unfortunate North Wales crash, Robert Loraine, volunteered to test some secret communications equipment for the Army.
He was forced to leave his role in a West End play to an understudy, and was taken by Ministry officials to Larkhill to fly a specially adapted ‘Bristol’ plane.
His task was to adopt a role as a member of the ‘opposing army’ during a unique military exercise, and to transmit the first-ever radio messages from the air, to a secret location close to Stonehenge, by tapping a Morse-code key with his left-hand, whilst flying the controls with his right.
A few days later, whilst testing other equipment, he then became the first pilot in the world to transmit a wireless signal beyond a mile. In addition, he also piloted the first plane to be fitted with Marconi wireless transmitting apparatus.
He later became involved in the provisional testing, and the aerial surveillance of ground troops. His actions became an imperative means of study and were eventually utilised during the latter years of the Great War.
The results of his actions were observed by Lord Kitchener, Lord Roberts, and Sir John French, with his aerial activity results studied by the then Home Secretary Winston Churchill.
Loraine’s wife Mabel Love
Robert Loraine’s wife was Mabel Love, a famous Burlesque actress and dancer, then considered to be ‘one of the great stage beauties of her time.’
Mabel came from a theatrical background with her grandfather William Edward Love, being a noted ventriloquist and stage entertainer, whilst her mother was also a highly talented and famous actress.
She first came to fame as a child prodigy, ironically - and continuing the link with North Wales – when she first starred at the age of 12, as the ‘Rose’ in a relatively unknown play by Lewis Carroll, called ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ at the Prince of Wales Theatre in London on 23rd December 1886.
The play was billed as a ‘pantomime and dream play for children.’ The following March, she starred as one of the triplet children in ‘Masks & Faces’ at the Opera Comique. In October 1888, and still aged just 14, Mabel again starred, to much public acclaim as a member of George Edwards’ Burlesque company at the Gaiety Theatre, performing in a key dancing role in Totchen.
At one time however, the pressure of performing became too much for her and she suddenly disappeared without reason. The press highlighted her problems of trying to cope with fame, and she was later found on the Thames Embankment, where it was said the pretty teenager had even contemplated suicide.
Newspapers of the day claimed Miss Mabel was ‘irresistible,’ and that men flocked to her shows. It was also said that Edward, the Prince of Wales was one of her greatest admirers – with allegations that in later years, he even provided her with a London base!
A young Winston Churchill was an equal supporter and once asked her for a signed photograph. Her remarkable career spanned both the Victorian and Edwardian periods and her stunning portrayal of ‘Francoise’ in La Cigale, which first opened at the Lyric Theatre in October 1890, and ran for fourteen months.
Mabel captivated audiences in London, Paris and New York and when she eventually retired from performing, she began a stage school in London during 1926. Her marriage to Robert Loraine was considered a success and the pair were said to be the highest paid actors in the country at one time, reputedly earning over £50,000 each per annum.
Rhos-on-Sea Aerodrome plans
Loraine’s flying activities were eagerly followed for years afterwards by wealthy business people, and particularly, the residents of Rhos-on-Sea, in addition to several members of the local golf club - who dreamed of developing a small aerodrome on the outskirts of the town.
In 1913, three-years after his landing, two large hangars were constructed at Dinerth Hall Farm, adjacent to Rhos-on-Sea golf course, and close to the main road towards Colwyn Bay.
On 15th July of that year, aviation enthusiasts planned to stage an air display and grand public meeting to rival those of more established events just down the coast at Blackpool, and across the Pennines at Doncaster.
Officials even arranged for large blue flags to be flown from the Metropole Hotel at Colwyn Bay, and at St George’s Hotel in Llandudno, to let everyone know that flying conditions were suitable. However, things didn’t go quite according to plan and the event had to be cancelled due to inclement weather.
Determined not to be outdone, arrangements however, were merely postponed until the following Sunday, July 23rd, when a plane finally made a short round-trip flight, landing on Colwyn sands, before heavy rain forced a further abandonment.
Three weeks later, the group decided to hire a French pilot for an impromptu performance and a possible display of stunt flying. Luck though seemed to be out yet again, when the unfortunate flyer ran into a ditch during take-off, and he was thrown forward from his open cockpit into the propeller.
He somehow managed to escape serious injury but this incident and other safety considerations finally ended immediate plans for regular flights.
Flights across the Irish Sea
Actor Robert Loraine later made a daring attempt to fly across the Irish Sea to Dublin, but narrowly failed due to extreme weather conditions, resulting in an enforced ditching, just yards from the Emerald Isle shoreline.
His failure though, coupled with his obvious notoriety sparked a peculiar interest to make that first crossing, yet, it also attracted several other failed attempts from a host of very inexperienced young aviators, with many losing their lives.
One such pilot was an Irishman, Leslie Allen, who died when his plane crashed into the sea during 1912. His demise and the extensive publicity attributed towards this unfortunate tragedy though, soon grabbed the attention of other fellow aviators, including a Rhyl-based Welshman Vivian Hewitt, who was apparently dining in London when he first heard the news.
Hewitt came from a very wealthy family, who had originally been based in Grimsby, before moving to start a new life in North Wales. He was said to have been inspired by the daring deeds of another early aviator, the brave Frenchman Bleriot, who was the first person to fly the English Channel in 1909.
Hewitt later rented a workshop in Surrey, aimed at budding aviators and soon acquired a new donated plane via his rich uncle. This was known as an ‘Antoinette,’ but was often considered to more of a fair-weather contraption, being both temperamental and fragile.
A short time later, he obtained his official flying licence, before his uncle provided Hewitt with another flying machine, but this time it was a Bleriot model, more suited to varied flying and turbulent conditions.
He then returned to North Wales and purchased a small plot of land in Rhyl, which he subsequently re-named as Voyd Aerodrome. Hewitt then used this airfield for his regular landing strip, and base, flying to many parts of the UK. And in February 1911, he received yet another upgraded Bleriot-produced mono-machine, and treated many local-residents to a spectacular aerial display.
Mixed emotions
It must have been a question of mixed emotions for Hewitt, and for many other potential aviators, who all dreamed of snatching this prestigious Irish Sea record.
At first, as he finished his meal in a London restaurant, he suddenly thought his own chances had been dashed, when he learned that Allen had departed for Holyhead to make his preparations for an attempt: but the following day, newspapers regrettably reported Allen’s demise, confirming that he had indeed embarked from Anglesey, but the headlines confirmed: “Airman Lost at Sea.”
Now realising that an opportunity still-remained to complete this challenging task, and perhaps determined to capitalise on an unexpected opportunity, and despite the late-hour and pitch-black, darkness, Hewitt decided to immediately drive all the way back to North Wales in his extravagant, Targu-Floria Bianchi, motor vehicle.
Fortunately for him, his car had been fitted with the very latest gadgetry for night driving, including two powerful Rushmore headlights. On arrival back in Rhyl, he hastily prepared his own flying machine and began to finalise plans for his own attempt the next day, which was a Sunday.
He had originally planned to follow a near identical route to Ireland, to that made by Loraine just two years earlier; flying via Llandudno and Anglesey, but whilst airborne, he then opted for a much shorter course, but just after gaining height, and similarly to the actor/pioneer, he too also began to encounter severe weather problems and was forced to land on Anglesey.
Hewitt’s flying log stated: ‘When I reached Llandudno, I was two-miles out at sea, and at a height of 4,000ft, as I got around the Great Orme, and steered towards Penmon then making for Holyhead, which I could see in the distance.’
Public interest with all these early record-breaking attempts remained at fever-pitch throughout this experimental period, and crowds, despite being the Sabbath, soon flocked to greet the pilot, when they heard of his unexpected landing on Anglesey.
Intermittent storms however, continued for several more days, and Hewitt was forced to remain in place for several days. On 26th March 1912, he finally received permission to take-off, and at 10.30am, and backed by a boisterous and supportive crowd, he began his historic flight towards Dublin.
His flying log later dramatically confirmed: ‘When I left Holyhead, the visibility was quite adequate but half-way across the Irish Sea, I ran into a thick bank of fog. I didn’t carry a compass, so I had no means of knowing how to navigate but earlier on, I had noticed the angle of a shadow of the sun on my wings. When I came out of the fog, I adjusted the course of the plane, so the sun fell approximately the same as before.’
Hewitt’s lack of essential aviation experience, and ignorance of the most basic navigational aids is quite staggering by today’s standards, and yet somehow, and like so many of these early pioneers, he probably survived more by luck than judgement. Yet, he eventually flew into the history book archives to record the first-ever flight across the sea, and successfully landing on Irish soil.
The papers also revealed his extraordinary flight over the mainland as he searched for basic and obvious landmarks, like the Wicklow Hills, and after spotting what he thought resembled his target, discovered that he was probably many miles off-course, so he quickly adjusted his flight towards Dublin Bay, and following the pre-arranged route of the River Liffey, until he reached the capital.
When he flew at about 2,000 ft over Trinity College, and then picked-out the famous Guinness brewing factory, he suddenly hit some extreme turbulence, and was worryingly sent into a spin, rapidly reducing his air-speed from about 70-20 mph. it took him a good few minutes before he recovered, and then continued his quest.
Instructions given to Hewitt prior to departure told him about the Wellington Monument situated at the end of the River route. Eventually he spotted the site and then quickly searched for a nearby grassy area to finally make touchdown.
Newspapers’ also reported Hewitt’s confusing inquiries on landing, quoting him as saying: ‘It was a great relief when I arrived overland. I came down in an open area and when two men ran up to me, I enquired, “Where am I?”
‘And they replied: ‘Phoenix Park, Dublin.’’
Hewitt accepted many congratulatory messages, and his log recorded: ‘The passage was very rough, the wind strong, and the machine took some handling.’
He later explained, that a compass was useless at high altitudes. And he believed the construction of the plane probably affected it, saying it often spun uncontrollably, and claimed his journey had probably been more like 100-miles, rather than his estimated 60-miles anticipated. Despite all the problems though, his historic flight from Anglesey to Wales had only taken him about an hour and a half.
His magnificent flying machine proved a huge attraction in Phoenix Park, Dublin; and his historic flight marked a tremendous achievement for the colourful, entrepreneur and adventurer. His unexpected success, also commemorated the loss of many other pioneer aviators, including Lesley Allen, who had lost their lives making the same attempt, and prevented the loss of many other further lives.
Two years later Hewitt joined the Royal Flying Corps (RFC), and he worked as a test pilot on various proto-type war machines, before he finally returning home and retiring to Cemlyn, back on Anglesey.
The Flying Flea
A former, and well-known local house builder from Penrhyn Bay, near Llandudno, Mr George Essex, spotted an advert in the North Wales Chronicle for a ‘Flying Flea.’ This was a new DIY type of plane that could be easily assembled with instructions, and was being promoted for just £70.
Designed by a Frenchman, the advert claimed it was ‘as cheap to run as a motorcycle,’ so the adventurous entrepreneur decided to go ahead.
Returning the completed machine to the site of other aviation mishaps, the novice pilot eventually prepared for take-off. Regrettably, the plane crashed into a hangar leaving Mr Essex with several wounds to both his body and his pride!
The impact destroyed much of the building, and ensured the plane was unable to fly again with its engine destroyed and beyond repair.
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