1900s to 1930s
Fire Island History:
The First and Only Air Mail Gets Through
Taken from the Fire Island News—August 23-August 29. 1990 issue—page 12
By Gabriel Levenson
A memorable historical event took place on Fire Island (and not for the first time, certainly) some 60 years ago, when the first air-mail delivery was made.
The time was 10:25 a.m.: the date was “Thursday, July 4, 1929; two mail sacks were dispatched, each containing 1,750 pieces; the drop-off was completed on the dock of Cherry Grove; and the whole affair was the climax of a race from the mainland between a hare and a tortoise. The “hare” was a Brunner-Winkle, open cockpit biplane; the “tortoise” was a state-of-the-art Hacker speedboat—26 feet long (almost twice that of the little plane) and generating 200 horsepower.
The “Jen” as the boat was named, was known as the unbeatable “Queen of the Bay”; it had even defeated the boat of bandleader Guy Lombardo (who combined wielding his baton with racing his powerboat). in a special run at Point Lookout; and it had a speed of 45 miles per hour. So, if it was the “tortoise” in a contest with a “hare” (the biplane could go up to 120 miles per hour), the Jen was a very speedy tortoise, indeed.
Hare Beats Tortoise
|  |
Boat vs. Biplane
Meanwhile, a friendly confrontation ensued between Abrams, the proud owner of the Jen, and Herbert Austin, president of the newly established Suffolk Flyers. The two men, with their families and friends, were sunning themselves on the beach at Fire Island one warm Sunday in early June, when Abrams started to boast (as was his wont) of the speed with which the Jen could make the trip form the mainland to the beach.
Austin, brimming with enthusiasm over the imminent delivery of the Suffolk Flyers’ biplane, was foolhardy enough to declare that it could beat the Jen hands-down in a dash across the bay; and, before the sun had waned that day, he and Abrams had agreed on plans to stage a race between their respective craft on the upcoming July 4 weekend—on Thursday, the 4th, to be exact. And somehow, in the course of their discussion, they agreed that each would carry aboard sacks of mail.
The Patchogue postmaster, Harry T. Weeks, endorsed the idea and got permission from the office of the U.S. Postmaster General in Washington for an official delivery of mail; and there was even a special rubber-stamp design created, so that letter writers could have a lasting record of the dispatch by air.
Local newspaper reporters had no doubts about the outcome of the forth coming race, as interest in it mounted among their readers. The race was to begin at 10 in the morning; the Patchogue post office, its starting point. Austin would be driving from there to a small field at Bayport, where his pilot, William Hunt, would be waiting for their takeoff. Abrams, in the meantime, would drive down Ocean Avenue to the bayside dock, where the Jen, its motor running, would be poised for the quick dash to Cherry Grove. And this is how the Suffolk Citizen analyzed the race and predicted its finish.
Four-Minute Delay
“While Austin is still on his way to Bayport. Abrams plans to have his speedboat cutting through the water straight for Cherry Grove—while Austin circles and climbs for altitude—Abrams hopes to be drawing near his goal—Abrams has but to flash by...and toss his mail onto the dock—Austin must fly over and drop his mail south of the post office—Abrams needs at most only seven minutes—needless to say, he will do everything but get out and push—Austin must reach Bayport, climb for altitude—an air pocket may throw the plane off course and delay the dropping of the mail a few seconds and lose the race to Abrams.”
As the newspaper had expected, the plane got into the air late—four minutes after Abrams had moved out with his speedboat. Thousands of spectators had lined the mainland shore to watch Abrams’s inevitable victory, and a goodly crowd had also assembled at the Cherry Grove dock.
It was there, anywhere, on the dock that the Jen was to make its drop, while the plane would have to make it somewhere near the post office itself. People aboard the Jen were confident of victory, as their boat neared the dock, but the plane, taking off into a northwest wind and having to bank sharply in the direction of the Grove, managed, nonetheless, to catch up—its 120 mph against the 45 mph of the speedboat.
But how to manage a well-targeted drop (this was 15 years before the development of the bombsight!)? Twice, the plane circled the post office by a wide margin---as the Jen approached the dock. On his third pass, on his last chance to beat the boat, pilot Hunt managed to score a bullseye, landing his mail sack on a sand dune just next to the post office. He had conquered---by a nose, in 10 seconds, or by several boat lengths, in 50.
The exact time did not matter, after all—but a principle had been declared and proven; that air mail could get through. That was the one and only such delivery to Fire Island. High-tech had prevailed on that single occasion, but reality has won out in the end. Mail is dispatched, prosaically, to the Island post offices these days—by boat.
There’s not much romance to it anymore; and one can only hope that some new contest can be arranged—between a Hovercraft and a helicopter, perhaps. Maybe the Island’s chambers of commerce can be gotten to sponsor a race, with prize a season pass to the private beach at Point O’ Woods or Ocean Beach.
(The author makes an acknowledgment to the Long Island Forum (issue of September 1972) for the basic facts and reportage on the air-mail delivery.)