For Openers
The one thing that we modelers have in common—other than "hobby" itself—is the flying session. Every flying session is a happening. No two "fly-ins" are ever alike. The ingredients are as varied as what you see when you look through a kid's kaleidoscope. It's at the fly-in that we see what others are doing, remarkable and unique models, where we watch others fly and eye planes aloft, where we meet and make friends and relax—and sometimes blow our tops like one of the Muppets. Fly-ins banish our worries and renew our spirits for the daily grind. Where the sunshine is super and the fresh mown grass greener, we share the products of a zillion lonely workshops.
On a perfect Spring evening we had gone with a few talented kibitzers to this distant site in the rolling Maryland countryside, our purpose to make the first flight on a thing called the "RC Special." It's a 4/5 scale version of a rather pretty, idealistic original that we had designed, and Walt Schroder built, and the both of us had printed in Mechanix Illustrated in 1948. (Let us note ol' Walt is a fantastic builder and draftsman. ...end the one minute's silence.) Don Srull (placed in RC Scale at '77 Nats) made the first flight. Everybody flew it but us! John Worth, Don Hurst Bowers, John Preston. So far we made only one complete flight out of 13 logged.
Now the strange thing was that these RC guys had their cars loaded with little rubber-powered scale models. We soon found out why. It was a genuine fly-in. A dozen or so more guys—and a couple of hotshot kids—appeared and soon the evening air was filled with circling aircraft of all descriptions. Man, were they pretty! And how they all did fly. At one point, a Keith Rider, a Hughes Racer, and a Folkerts cruised serenely overhead as we lolled in the grass. A little kid got a bent-wing Corsair off to a startling long flight. A push-pull Dornier, Mustang, Gypsy Moth, a Howard, a Laird biplane, a Hellcat, Douglas A-24, Albatros, P-40, so it went—by the dozens. A week later we tried again, and again the scale builders were out in force with a dizzying stable of subjects.
Now there was a time, and not too long ago, when low wings were regarded as impossible—and nine out of ten of these fantastic ships could not be made to fly. So you ask questions. The big difference is weight. Today's builder takes pride in his ability to build light, with neatness and precision. One does not have to fight the high speeds and G's of heavier, more powerful ships of yesterday, which magnified small problems into disaster. With less power required, there is no uncontrollable power burst, and no more torque than a bit of touch-up adjustment can't handle. The runs are long and smooth—more like the indoor model in that virtually the entire flight is taken up by the prop run, with the ship in the grass, or close to it, when the turns run out. They hand-launch, and any ship that had retracting gear is flown in a "gear up" mode.
Anyone who thinks rubber scale is for kids or a handful of gimpy old gents is behind the times, and missing something which already has built a popular following of thousands. F.O. has been visiting these guys. Many are RCers. Among them we found quite a few retired types who are reliving their love affair with ancient and classic aircraft, which in their perception are real aircraft. These guys visit back and forth, spend an evening in low-key chitchat—the tales of airplanes and men gone by flow endlessly. The fine points of laminating a wing tip, of attaching a strut, or painting without adding too much weight. Sometimes slides are shown. It is nothing to find a shop with ten marvelous beauties hanging from the ceiling. Ten is nothing—really. It is more likely to be 20, or 30, or even 50.
Almost always, the models are rubber but quite frequently there's a "schoolyard" RC type scale ship with an 010, 02 or 049. CO2 is a natural. So we wonder why it is that an "impossible model"—like Royall Moore's Gee Bee Silo which flies 45 seconds—can be flown perfectly, without problems with rubber power—when larger, radio scale types still are considered all but impossible subjects. Only a genius would tackle a big RC version of Doolittle's Gee Bee. Why is this? Can it be that such models become unbusted broncos only when we apply controls to maneuver them? Or is it that they weigh a ton? Or both? Has the RC modeler forgotten how to build "light?" Most likely, that notion never occurs to 99 out of 100 of us. Designing model aircraft has become a trade—like carpentry. We frame a house. We frame an airplane. But an airplane is not a house.
The Gossamer Condor Rides Again, or,
as in the double-titled Victorian novels, Can Two Gossamer Condors Live Cheaper Than One? Maybe we'd better begin at the beginning. Mr. Henry Kremer, the English industrialist whose long standing offer of 50,000 pounds—a bit less than 100 grand in space-age bucks—was retired on August 23, 1977 by ex-modeler Paul McCready and his merry band of ex-modelers, including Verne Oldershaw whose 1947 Nats winning Glory Bee was published in AT, and the guy who did all that peddling, has put up 100,000 pounds (about $190,000) for the first person(s) to fly a person-powered aircraft (HPF for human-powered aircraft) across the English Channel. Several things are immediately evident. If you pedaled through the preceding sentences, you should be able to pump an airplane across the Channel. Mr. Kremer has gotten more fun for his bucks (ahem, pounds) than anyone since the Wright Brothers. And, finally, it is expected that the prize will not go unclaimed for more than five years.
Writing in the June issue of Soaring, J. H. McMasters and J. D. McLean, both aerodynamicsists at Boeing, present fascinating evidence that the ability to pedal the Jellyfish Aeronautics over the old Bleriot trail, is by no means im- possible, or as wacky, as it sounds. Consider that the flight is straight-line and that the turn problems of the old Figure 8 course—which thwarted all but the McCready bunch—will not exist. A champion-caliber engine/pilot, the authors say, can, without being seriously distracted by controlling the machine, develop about a half horsepower for a minimum of 10 minutes. An average athlete can produce about .3 hp for a couple of hours while piloting a HPA.
Indoor builders will be fascinated by the discussion of the interplay of the drag-thrust, lift-weight factors as many possible design trade-offs are considered. But to get to the bottom line, it is demonstrated that the machine best suited to the job is not a Gossamer Condor, but two of them—rather like the Twin Mustang—with one huge, common wing, and two men to do the pedaling. (Didn't the Germans put two Heinkel bombers together with five engines to serve as multiple-glider tugs?)
Two planes flying side by side, with tips close together, it is stated, experience the same sort of power-required reduction as a typical HPA sees in ground effect. Several existing HPAs already are capable of flying "long" distances, if in ground effect. So two pilots (two engines) is an appealing prospect, but most 2-place HPAs weigh 150 pounds, and have wing spans under 150 feet. Twin Gossamer Condors would weigh together only 150 pounds empty, and would have a span of nearly 200 feet. Even if the huge "joined together" wing was reduced to 140 feet for an empty weight of 140 pounds, the theoretical design would seem a viable solution, according to McMasters and McLean. (McLean is an ex-holder of the Open Indoor Pennyplane record.)
Illustrating the Soaring article is a head-on sketch of the "double Condor." Each fuselage has outrigger struts on which are mounted two propellers (typical twin fashion), so the design, if ever built, might show up as a "4-engine aircraft." Better make that "4-prop..."
McCready, incidentally, was expected to arrive on the scene this summer, presumably with the proven one-man Gossamer Condor. Perhaps an attempt will have been made by the time you read this. A takeoff from high on the cliffs of Dover would be a good beginning. As contributor Frank Scott suggested, they might put hungry sharks in the Channel.
Speaking of "historic" RC models, an excellent plan of Walt Good's Rudderbug appeared in a recent issue of Model Builder. Note that we did not use the term oldtimer. These vintage RC's do not fly like converted free flights. In terms of power and wing loading, their performance index is roughly halfway between that of the OT's and modern cabin models and sport low wings. There may be a few exceptions, such as Chet Lanzo's pre-war parasol which, with its wire-strutted center section and polyhedral wings, resembles an FF OT. Many really excellent RC airplanes of the past await discovery. Old RC designs could be the next Klondike—gold rush, that is. But if people begin to fly them, competition will rear its ugly head.
Should the spirit of things that were be preserved, as it is so far with the 1/3 and 1/4 scale monsters? The Quarter Scale Association of America has a non-competition policy, under which fliers get together just to fly, and enjoy themselves. How would we manage competition for Vintage RC designs?
Would 1950 be an appropriate point in time to qualify as a Vintage RC? As far as we know, no aileron ship had been flown by that date—do you correct us? Howard Bonner's remarkable full-house Smog Hog cabin model—which ushered in the modern era, was post 1950. But some promising aircraft existed long before 1950. The Rockwood 3- and 5-channel reed systems flew before the war, and won Nationals (after 1950) in a large "Cub" of about 7-foot span. It had rudder (2), elevator (2), and engine control (1). Five channels did not mean what it means today; one channel gave only one direction to a servo, so that, say, Up and Down, required two channels. At the time, five channels was max on reed receivers—much later we would have eight channels; two for elevator, two for rudder, two for ailerons and two for engine. When trim was added sometimes five control sticks were required. But that was well after 1950.
In the 1940's the Good Brothers had rudder and elevator, using two receivers and two escapements—this was added to their rudder-only Guff, a milestone airplane that topped everything in the few years immediately preceding the war. Walker and Siegfried (not to be confused with "Sig") had elevator control before the war.
How would such aircraft compete against each other today? They cannot be thrown together in some kind of Turkey Shoot. Historically, rudder-and-elevator jobs did compete against rudder only, although throughout the great middle period of RC, subsequent to 1953 and until 1968, rules were written to preserve rudder only—which competitively phased out with increasingly indifferent interest. We had Classes I, II, and III, for rudder only, rudder and elevator, and "more than that." But, obviously, if Vintage rudder-only crates are to be flown, some rules should separate types by the number of kinds of control surfaces. Since multiple channel systems existed from before the war, the post-'60's Classes I, II, and III setup might be a good way to insure particular old RC jobs could compete against their kind.
It would seem appropriate that yesteryear's ships be flown with the type (we say that loosely) of equipment employed in the original. (That is, one actuator, or whatever; but perhaps we should always have throttle.) To make things interesting, consider that some designs crossed over—like rudder-only Beams flown with elevator on two channels. No doubt, diligent research of old magazines will turn up many such combinations. Perhaps, other than making type distinctions, rules should be exactly (or "almost"?) what they were in the "old days," but adjusted for the post 1960 Classes I, II, and III arrangement. The same simple pattern. Great fun for special events for clubs.
Although we outline a possible basis of competition, as perhaps a necessary evil, F.O. does not propose a new event. But we will be flying these machines in the future. How can we best enjoy them? And what would we call the thing? Surely not RC Old Timer. We already have that for the rejuvenated free flights. For want of a handle, we've called it Vintage.
"Radio Control for Non-Modelers" is the title of a unique book, written by Paul Kugler, and to be released this fall by Boynton Associates. In preparation for 2½ years, it tackles the beginner problem—which will always be with us—in an entirely new way. Envisioning the need at the hobby shop for a means to absolutely guarantee a neophyte—who may never have previous contact with model construction and flying—a system by which he can, step by step, construct and successfully fly a radio model, the book presents a model called the Performer and, in explicit words with perhaps 500 how-to-do-it pictures, guides the customer to success. That's a mighty tall order. The vast array of photos depict things from the first pin and glue joint to covering the plane with Monokote and then to fly it.
Like the book, the plane design is different. It has a high aspect ratio, all-wood wing—only four main pieces—that spans 6 ft. The engine is an .049—it's reasoned the public has greatest acquaintance with that size and powerplant and besides it is the easiest and cheapest to use. The fuselage is sheet balsa, with as few pieces as the mind can conceive. Tail surfaces are sheet. There is no landing gear—just a wire skid. Two pieces of wood form each wing panel, Jedelski fashion, with a wide piece of sheet glued over the top of the spar to form the center section. The results are amazingly simple and rugged. If the book and plane succeed, they may well bring many newcomers into RC who otherwise would never attempt it. to a wide, formed leading edge, in such a way that a cambered airfoil results. "Formed" did we say?
It seems that Midwest is going to manufacture the kit. The book and kit can be recommended together by the dealer. The kit, of course, contains the shaped leading edge piece. (Midwest is not aware of F.O.'s sneak preview.) All we can say is that the boys have religion. It's a daring, imaginative approach.
If the powered glider is not a hotshot's idea of a trainer, we must be impressed by the revelations of the field testing that involved even very young kids. Since only two channels are required for rudder and elevator, the flier is involved with only four very natural stick movements. A slow rate of climb takes forever to get the ship to any real altitude, so there is no pressure on the new flier. Control demands are presented to the flier at about the pace of molasses flowing uphill in January. One 11-year-old boy, merely told what the stick movements do, launched the model on its first flight, only to come down in the grass. He hadn't pushed hard enough on the launch. On his second flight, he snagged a wing tip in the grass and cart-wheeled without damage. On the third flight he flew the ship unaided for a 9-minute flight.
Mountains of words, books, kits and magazines have been shoved at the beginner, yet the problem is as big as ever. Who knows, maybe these guys have the answer.
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
