The Time Capsule: Montgomery County’s early aviators
Two weeks ago we did a column on the Red Oak air show of 1921. I concluded with a passing reference to the aviation history of this county. We had filled the space and didn’t get into names, but a good many came to mind—Cessna and Longstreet and Burnham among them. There were barnstormers and bush pilots and wing-walkers and aerial acrobats from this area; women who found a career in early aviation, and boys who flew the planes of war. There were bizarre chapters, and tragic ones.
It was in Red Oak in 1906 that an appropriately named showman, Horace B. Wild (he claimed the “B” stood for “Bird”) launched what he called his “rubber cow.” According to an article printed in “Popular Science” in 1930, during those years he frequently went aloft with “The Murphys,” a pair of semi-trained goats that jumped (or were pushed), floating to earth with parachutes.
August Werner, once a Red Oak resident, attached a propeller with a peddling mechanism to something that resembled a porta-potty and tried to fly it to Germany.
Although Wild (and his goats—if they were along that day), was blown to Elliott and Werner’s experience did not turn out well, there were no casualties. The 1921 air show ended much worse, as did the final mission of 1st Lt. Harlan Peterson of Stanton. His plane was shot down by a squadron of Japanese Zeros, and he and his crew died young during a B25 bombing run in 1943.
Another local pilot was Clifford Burnham, who pushed himself and his plane too far—much too far—and paid the price.
Burnham was born and raised in Villisca. He was still in high school when he joined Company F. He saw duty with his National Guard unit on the Mexican border and, not long thereafter, World War I put him on the battlefields of France. He suffered serious shrapnel injuries. As weeks in an army hospital dragged by he watched warplanes. He was, at times, only a few hundred yards from the front and could see pilots drop bombs, give and take fire. Burnham vowed that if he survived the war he’d learn to fly.
I thought I might find him at the 1921 air show, but did not. He either didn’t participate or failed to finish in the money.
He and an older brother flew out of Villisca for a while, then moved on to operate a flying service at what was then the Omaha airport. Clifford married, had children, a family to support. When the Great Depression settled in, the demand for flying lessons and charters dried up. He turned to a type of flying that was risky but paid well—barnstorming.
Burnham made the down payment on a “Monoprep,” a high-wing, high-speed aircraft built in Ottumwa during the late 1920s. He reinforced the wings with wires and cables and asked the machine to endure stress greater than it was designed to handle.
At local events in the 1930s Burnham put on a show; dives and loops and a grand finale of thrilling the crowd with a wide-open, upside down, treetop run at 100 mph.
Clifford Burnham made his last flight on a September afternoon in 1933. Flying a show over the fairgrounds in Greenfield, he was ending the performance by rolling the Monoprep upside-down and giving it full throttle. He’d leveled off, midway in the run, when spectators saw one wing shudder for an instant, then snap. The plane cartwheeled into the earth; the pilot had no chance
Burnham, age 35, was buried at Arlington—the strikingly beautiful Arlington of Montgomery County. As graveside services were about to begin a squadron of 1920-era airplanes approached from the west, circled, then landed in a nearby bluegrass pasture; honorary pall bearers for one of Montgomery County’s pioneer aviators.
Readers who haven’t visited our local Arlington should do so. Do not, however, expect to find Clifford Burnham’s grave. His stunned wife and parents buried him there in the Burnham family plot. A few years later his widow, an Omaha native, had the remains removed to that city.
His role in early aviation is memorialized by a photograph that is part of a display at Eppley Airport. You might enjoy looking it up next time you’re waiting for a flight.
Roy Marshall is a local historian and columnist for the Red Oak Express. He can be contacted at news@redoakexpress.com.