Early Aviation History – the Tales of Two Harrowing Plane Crashes in WH

The following article appeared in the Fall 2013 edition of the WHCSA News & Views newsletter

The “cradle of aviation” is a term ascribed to Long Island that highlights the important role that our island played in the history of early human flight. At the turn of the 20th century, the treeless, flat terrain of the Hempstead Plains, just a short distance from the country’s largest metropolis, made for an ideal location for the frenetic aviation activity that would take place in the region for the ensuing half-century. During those years, many triumphant and celebrated milestones in human flight would be marked on Long Island, most notably Charles Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight from Roosevelt Field to Paris in 1927. As well, numerous but lesser known avionic tragedies and mishaps occurred in those early days. The following paragraphs recount the stories of two such plane crashes that occurred in the immediate West Hempstead vicinity.

The first incident involved a machine dubbed the “Christmas Bullet”, after its eccentric inventor, Dr. William W. Christmas. By 1918, in the aftermath of WWI, numerous enterprising manufacturers from across the country offered up radical designs for airplanes that they hoped would produce improved speed and efficiency and win lucrative government contracts to produce their planes for the US Army Air Service. Dr. Christmas theorized that the struts that supported the wings of the standard bi-plane design of that era generated a lot of wind resistance, and as a result, he pioneered a “strutless” design of the type pictured in the photograph below. Critics allegedly warned that without struts, the wings were liable to break apart during flight, and indeed, history proved these critics right; the Christmas Bullet was among the worst planes ever designed.

1918 photo of the Christmas Bullet.  (photo from http://www.aviastar.org/air/usa/christmas_bullet.php  via Wikipedia)

Nevertheless, Christmas went ahead with his plans and got his prototype ready at his plant in Copiague, NY. A 27 year-old Army Air Service aviator named Cuthbert Mills was hired for the Bullet’s initial test flights and her maiden voyage to Hazelhurst (later Roosevelt) Field was indeed spectacular, with unofficial reports of her breaking the existing air speed records of the time. (Reports varied from anywhere between 160mph and 197mph). Shortly after the Christmas of 1918, Dr. Christmas announced that the Bullet would shortly give a demonstration by encircling the Woolworth Building in Manhattan (the tallest building in the world at the time) before returning to Long Island.

On a crisp and clear late afternoon on Monday, December 30th, Mills took off from Hazelhurst heading due south before turning west toward Manhattan. The plane reached about 3,000ft as it headed over the Hempstead reservoir when it encountered immediate problems. Reports conflict as to what exactly went wrong, but Lakeview resident E. J Jennings who was an eyewitness to the incident claimed that one of the plane’s wings had collapsed, causing her to spiral out of control. For an instant, Mills managed to stabilize the machine by bringing her down in small concentric circles, but the area surrounding Hempstead Lake was heavily wooded and offered no good place for a crash landing. The plane came down right around the present location of Exit 18 of the Southern State Parkway (before the parkway was built), into a chestnut tree while narrowly missing the home of a man named Quinn Porsert, before dropping to the ground. Porsert, his son Frank, and EJ Jennings were on a hunting excursion in the wooded property and were the first to respond to the scene, and they cheered wildly when for an instant, it had seemed that Mills had miraculously survived the crash. But as they raced toward the wreckage, they were greeted with a loud boom that lit up the purple dusk sky, as it became evident that the fuel tank had exploded and quickly consumed the wooden fuselage. Without a water supply, all the hopeless group could do was to futilely throw gravel upon the mangled aircraft and watch her unfortunate pilot burn beyond recognition. Incredibly, in the wake of this tragedy, the undaunted Dr. Christmas produced a second “Bullet” and three months later, her initial test flight similarly went awry and claimed the life of the pilot. Such were the risks and realities of early aviation.

About three-and-a-half years later, a second incident occurred that was not quite as tragic and produced a somewhat comical unplanned meeting between a Manhattan aristocrat and a hardened Long Island farmer.

Photo taken from the DH6 wiki page http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airco_DH.6.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, June 10, 1922, a Madison Ave. socialite named Oscar Jay was soaring over central Long Island in his DeHavilland DH6 monoplane (after WWI, the Royal Air Force had decommissioned and sold off hundreds of these DH6s and many ended up in the hands of leisure pilots throughout the world) when he abruptly realized he had ran out of gas and frantically looked for the nearest clearing to bring the plane down. That clearing happened to be upon the potato field of John Jacob Rasweiler, a local farmer who owned a homestead along Dogwood Ave. (Today, the small side street off Dogwood that bears the original owner’s name along with his adjacent farmhouse is a surviving testament to this farm). Jay successfully glided his plane down upon the patch while leaving a divot of tens of dollars of torn-up potatoes in his wake. The pilot brushed himself off, nonchalantly walked over to the farmhouse, knocked on the door and introduced himself as a wealthy merchant. He asked the owner if he could borrow some gasoline and be on his way, all the while pledging that he would reimburse the farmer for his gas and for his ruined potatoes once he returned home. Rasweiler obliged and refueled the plane with some automotive gasoline he had siphoned from his car. Jay started up the machine, and after a 500ft taxi barely managed to get her off the ground before she sputtered and fell back to earth in a dive, dragging along another long divot of ruined potato crops. The apparent hard lesson learned was that automotive-grade gasoline was incompatible with the DeHavilland engine.

Shaken and exasperated but otherwise unhurt, Jay walked away from the wreckage and began looking for the closest train station to get back to Manhattan. Rasweiler caught up to Jay and yelled, “Hey, what about your plane!?!?”.

 “You can go ahead and keep it!”, was the response.

 “Well, what in tarnation will I have any use for a wrecked plane!?”, the old farmer quizzed, “And besides, how can I be so sure that you’re gonna repay me?”

Jay then gave the farmer his coat as a pledge along with his calling card, and headed off to the train station for Manhattan. Rasweiler went home, but then became suspicious of his uninvited visitor’s story, thinking instead that the plane might have been stolen, and he promptly called the local sheriff. The police made inquiries and found out that Jay’s story was completely legitimate. But the aftermath of this mangled heap of metal, with its nose firmly planted in the ground and its tail up in the air,made for a curious sight that Summer for passersby along Dogwood Ave before Rasweiler was finally able to extricate it from his farm.

Hempstead Lake Park Homes I

The view above, looking west toward Woodfield Road from Hillman St. along Colonial Drive in Lakeview and shows a section of the brand new Hempstead Lake Park Homes development as it appeared in 1931. On May 5th of that year, the development was incorporated by Reuben Hillman with a capitalization of $20,000 and with rapid speed, a number of houses were already built by September 6th when 2,000 people came out to inspect the homes. The name of the principle street of this neighborhood was chosen for the colonial designs of its homes, and another, Hillman St., was named, well - you guessed it, after its developer.

The premier attraction of this new neighborhood, as indicated by its chosen name, was its proximity to Hempstead Lake State Park, to which it had easy access via a back entrance at the end of Colonial Dr. The deal for the park's development occurred in Nov. 1925 and two years later, on Nov. 6 1927, the first section of the Southern State Parkway, from the Queens border to Hempstead Lake, was formally dedicated by Gov. Al Smith. In the following couple years, Hempstead Lake State Park began to take shape with a number of prized amenities such as playgrounds, clay tennis courts, ballfields and bridle trails. Local landowners immediately saw the value of their properties rise and these and similar types of housing developments began sprouting up throughout the area.

Below is the "now" shot to the picture above, showing the block virtually unchanged. The only difference is something you need to pay close attention to; in the "then" shot, you will notice at the end of Colonial Drive an island of trees that used to adorn the entrance to the colony at Woodfield Rd, which is no longer there.

Stephen Smith DuBois and West Hempstead’s First General Store

The following article first appeared in the WH Comunity Support Association newsletter, Spring 2009 edition.

The very beginnings of commercial activity in the community of West Hempstead can be traced back to the existence of a small general store along Hempstead Avenue, midway between Hempstead Village and Pearsall’s Corner (Lynbrook). This is the story of the two local pioneers who ran this store, Stephen Smith DuBois and his son, Smith Henry DuBois.

Stephen Smith DuBois was born February 10, 1814 in Cayuga, NY. In 1847 he moved downstate with his wife and three children, where he worked as a dock builder and helped build many of the docks that lined the Gowanus Canal in Brooklyn[1]. In 1865 he was building a dock for the US Navy when news came that the Civil War had ended, and with it, most dock building activity. DuBois then looked for a new opportunity for livelihood, an opportunity which beckoned from a tiny Long Island village southwest of Hempstead called Norwood. (Don’t look for Norwood on a map – it has long since been subsumed within portions of West Hempstead and Malverne). The center of this village, at the south end of Halls Pond, comprised little more than a railroad stop along the now defunct New York & Hempstead rail line, and what was likely West Hempstead’s first general store a little further south along Hempstead Avenue. The store was established in the 1840’s by a man named Valentine Wood, but by the late 1860’s, DuBois took over its operation[2].

In 1880, as DuBois was reaching the age of retirement, his youngest son, Smith H. DuBois, moved back from Kansas (where he had briefly joined the westward expansion movement with his family) and assumed proprietorship of the business[3]. The younger DuBois, born in Springport, NY in 1845, was a Civil War veteran who volunteered in the 4th NY Infantry and took part in many major engagements. When the battle of Antietam produced the single bloodiest day ever on American soil, 17 year-old DuBois was one of the more than 17,000 troops who were wounded in the mêlée. While recuperating at a hospital near Washington, DC, he was paid a visit by President Abraham Lincoln who gave him some paper money as a token of appreciation of his service to the Union and thereafter he received his discharge to recover from his wound[4].

At the height of his active adult life Smith DuBois built up his business, and involved himself in civic matters. He established a route with a team of horses and wagons to deliver goods throughout the countryside, which made DuBois’ a popular and well-liked local figure. The fact that he served on the Board of Audit for the Town of Hempstead is testament to his trustworthy character[5].

The DuBois family was also instrumental in forming West Hempstead’s first church, Norwood Chapel, in the early 1890s, located on Hempstead Ave opposite Oakford St[6]. Notably, Smith DuBois’ daughter, Viola, on occasion was called upon to conduct the service[7].

In 1907, at the ripe old age of 94, while cutting and stacking his five-acre cornfield, the elder DuBois caught the eye of a newspaper reporter who marveled at the physical strength of a man of such an advanced age. The reporter was then astonished to learn that he was standing face to face with the only living person who rode on the very first passenger train in New York State on the Mohawk & Hudson line, which ran between Schenectady and Albany. The trip occurred on September 24th, 1831 and at the invitation of his uncle, a director of the railroad, the 17 year-old DuBois joined the inaugural voyage. When it was discovered that this eyewitness participant of one of the most significant events in state history was still alive, numerous other media outlets picked up the story[8] including some national media[9], rendering DuBois into a small celebrity. When Stephen Smith DuBois died on February 11, 1914 at the age of 100 plus one day, he was one of the oldest men in New York State.

Later that same year, an incident occurred that almost sent Smith H. DuBois to his own early grave. Running a country store in an area as secluded as Norwood in those days had always been a dangerous business and was an easy target for bandits. Indeed, over the years numerous robberies or attempted robberies occurred at the store[10]. But on the typically warm and balmy summer evening of July 22, 1914, DuBois got more than he bargained for when two men entered his store and held him up at gunpoint. Rather than empty his till, the stubborn 70 year-old leapt over the counter and grappled with the gunman, and in the ensuing scuffle, he was shot in the chest, a senseless crime described later by a judge as “the most unprovoked and cold-blooded case he had ever dealt with”[11]. Newspaper accounts relate that doctors, after failing to find the bullet, gave DuBois zero chance of survival[12]. Remarkably, however, the old man rallied and was soon back behind the counter of his store[13].

The business continued operation into the 1920s[14]. But in 1927, most of the DuBois farm, including the store, was paved over by the Southern State Parkway, and with it was paved over a major piece of local history. However, you can still see a small remnant of the old farm in a charming “blue-gabled” Victorian home on Hempstead Avenue built in 1888[15] for Stephen Smith DuBois’ daughter and son-in-law, Sophia & George W. Van Dusen.

Smith DuBois died at age 88 in April 1934 as one of only two remaining Civil War veterans in Hempstead’s local GAR post[16]. By that time, DuBois had lived to see a profound transformation of the village he called home for over half a century – a transformation from a sleepy farm community to a modern-day suburbia.

[1] “On the First Train” Auburn Democrat-Argus 25 Oct 1907 2.
[2] The circumstances surrounding the initial arrangement between DuBois and Wood are unclear, whether DuBois purchased the store outright or whether he clerked in the store for a while before taking ownership. Records as early as the 1868-69 Curtin’s Directory of Long Island list DuBois as the store owner. But newspaper reports as late as 1879 (see “Long Island Notes” Brooklyn Eagle 27 Dec 1879 4) refer to the store as belonging to Valentine Wood. As for the possibility that there were two different stores, History of Queens County (New York: W.W. Munsell & Co.; 1882) makes it clear that there was only one store, which Wood sold to DuBois.
[3] “Legion Conducts Rites for Smith H. DuBois, Soldier of the Great Civil War” The Hempstead Sentinel 12 Apr 1934.
[4] ibid.
[5] “Examining Town Bills” Queens County Review [Freeport] 23 Dec 1898 2.
[6] The earliest reference to the Norwood Chapel found by this author is from 1893 (“Free Fight in a Church” Brooklyn Eagle 20 Apr 1893 1), where the leader of the church service is referred to as “Evangelist DuBois”. The article reports an incident where DuBois came to blows with a parishioner who refused to leave when the church service finished and a closed-door executive meeting was starting.
[7] “Religious Notes” Brooklyn Eagle 2 Apr 1898 4.
[8] Among the papers that covered the story were the Auburn Citizen, Union Springs Advertiser, Utica Daily Press, Clinton Advertiser & Brooklyn Eagle.
[9] Mary K. Maule, The Boy Who Rode on the First Train, St. Nicholas Magazine August 1908 Vol. XXXV No. 10.
[10] See “An Exchange of Money” Brooklyn Eagle 7 Dec 1877 3, “Long Island Notes” Brooklyn Eagle 7 Dec 1879 4, and “Lynbrook” South Side Messenger [Freeport] 27 Jan 1910 1.
[11] “Martin Sent to Sing Sing” Brooklyn Eagle 30 Jun 1915 17.
[12] “Dying from Shot Wound; Makes Will” Nassau Post [Freeport] 25 Jul 1914 1.
[13] “Donovan Is Arrested for Assault” Nassau Post [Freeport] 12 Sep 1914 1.
[14] In the 1920 Census (Series: T625 Roll: 1127 Page: 220) his occupation is listed as “Proprietor – Grocery Store”
[15] As per the Nassau County Dept. of Assessment records
[16] “Legion Conducts Rites for Smith H. DuBois, Soldier of the Great Civil War” The Hempstead Sentinel 12 Apr 1934.

Thomas Donlon and Schodack Trout Pond

In the 1880s, a group of businessmen from Brooklyn who shared an enthusiasm for fishing formed an organization they called the Unit Fishing Club wherein they would arrange expeditions to take part in their favorite pastime. Their preferred destination was Mombasha Lake in Orange County, upstate NY - an ideal location with a reputation of being an angler's heaven. There was only one problem - it was a major schlep. At the time, there were no crossings over the lower Hudson River, which meant the trip required taking a ferry and the better part of a whole day just to get there.

Some members began looking eastward for a good freshwater fishing spot on Long Island. They found an opportunity in an area called Lakeview, which, although did not yet have train service until 1892, was a not too distant walk from the Hempstead or Pearsall's Corner train stations. Aside from the large lakes of the Brooklyn Water Works, a smaller lake bordered Woodfield Rd., just south of Eagle Ave. Sometime between 1887 and the early 1890s, a club member named Thomas Donlon purchased the fishing hole and 30 acres surrounding this lake from Hendrick B. Ryder, a deacon of the Rockville Centre Baptist Church and superintendent of its Sunday school, and one time Hempstead Town highway commissioner. The 1914 Belcher-Hyde map below displays the lake and land owned by Donlon. (The road labeled Brooklyn Ave. is Woodfield Rd.)

Donlon was a contractor who built many structures in Brooklyn. One of his works remains as among the oldest standing firehouses in Brooklyn (and probably the oldest still in operation), having been built in 1883, located on 11th Ave in Park Slope as the headquarters of Ladder Co. 122. (Photo below taken from the http://www.nyc-architecture.com website).

The pond that Donlon purchased was part of a stream called Schodack Brook that once extended much further north and ran its course through Lakeview into Smith's Pond, at one time a tributary of the Brooklyn water system. Though the small size of Donlon's pond did not seem like it was much to get excited about, a story reported in the Brooklyn Eagle in 1910 illustrates the prodigious quality of marine life that was sustained by the pond at that time. On July 4th that year, Donlon threw an Independence Day party for many friends, where he held a contest for who could catch the biggest fish. One of the guests was almost pulled into the water by the force of the creature pulling on the other side of the line. When a couple spectators helped the man reel in his prize, they were amazed to find it was a twenty pound turtle that gave the man such trouble.

Referring back to the map above, there was a man named Thomas Rhodes who lived across the street from Donlon (Rhodes' home is labeled and can be seen at bottom center). When Donlon bought land in Lakeview, he hired Rhodes to work on his farm earning a modest $50/month for the 8 months a year during planting and harvesting season, and $35/month for the remaining 4 months. Notwithstanding his meager salary, Donlon had always promised Rhodes that he would be "well taken care of", without ever specifying the meaning of that pledge. In 1917, Rhodes found out what his old boss meant when Donlon passed away and willed to Rhodes 1/2 an acre of his property for every year he worked (totalling 15 acres), a tribute to his old farmhand's loyalty. The remaining 15 acres was left to his wife, which Rhodes later purchased from her from the proceeds made from working the farm.

The aerial photo below (from the Fairchild Aerial Survey) gives an amazing perspective of the old Donlon farm. Taken in 1949 soon after the Southern State Parkway was widened and rerouted at exit 18, the photo looks westward toward New York City. I have included some labels to help the visualization. The original route of the Parkway wound around Hempstead Lake along Eagle Ave through Hempstead Lake State Park (a fact which helps understand the origin of the word "parkway"). At the left center of the photo, one can make out the cutoff of the old Parkway. In 1947, a new interchange at exit 18 was created and the Southern State was routed through Hempstead Lake, upon landfill, effectively cutting the lake into two parts. The road running horizontally at the top is Woodfield Rd, and the road running vertically at the right is Eagle Ave. The open farm fields on both sides of the Parkway at the top left corner is what was left of the Donlon Farm after the Parkway bisected it.

This high resolution image below comes from the same photo and is a close-up of Schodack pond as it looked in 1949.


Not long after this photo was taken, the farm was sold and carved up for a housing development. Like E J Jennings, Donlon also had a local street named after him, which can be found to the west of Woodfield Rd., just south of Eagle Ave.