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Robert V. Jaros, 18, Illinois University student, brought forth a model monoplane, driven by twisted rubber bands, that broke two world's records by staying in the air 10 min. 14 sec. and covering a mile and a half.
Basil L. Rowe of Alben, N. Y., drove his SV-A three-seater at 111.05 m.p.h. and won the Detroit Aviation Town and Country Club's prize. Jones Curtiss-Oriole led this race until forced down near the finish. The Yellow Air Cab took second.
Seven huge Martin bombers raced, Lieut. D. M. Myers of Phillips Field taking the Dayton Chamber of Commerce Trophy with a speed of 109.85 m.p.h.
Five tiny pleasure planes, home-made and equipped with motorcycle engines, showed what can be done in the air at a low cost. J. M. Johnson of Dayton won, going 64.10 m.p.h. in a little yellow bug with a single, underslung wing on each side. Etienne Dormoy of Dayton flew his cherished "flying bathtub" 50.01 m.p.h. for second prize. H. C. Mummert of Garden City won another low-powered event with his 18-horse Harley-Davidson special.
Then the big events—the Pulitzer Cup race and the John L. Mitchell Trophy race. Eleven army pilots competed for the latter, flying Curtiss PW-8 planes with 480-horse engines. They went in a roaring bunch around the triangular course, flirting about the turns so closely that one man's wingtip severed a guy wire supporting a pylon. Lieut. Cyrus Betts, winner, made 175.43 m.p.h. for the 124.27 miles raced.
Only four entrants set off, at intervals of 10 seconds, to fly the Pulitzer speed test. The Navy, winner last year, went unrepresented, having had no appropriation from Congress. Lieut. W. H. Mills in a Verville-Sperry racer, Lieut. W. H. Brookley in a Curtiss R-6, and Lieut. Rex Stoner in a Curtiss PW-8-A were the first three to fly to a point ten miles behind the start and ascend in the customary "tower" from which the racers plunge down to the starting pylon at maximum speed. Last to leave the ground was Captain Burt E. Skeel, his 520-horse Curtiss R-6 leaping up with a great burst of power. Said the crowd: "There goes the winner!"
With the fliers out of sight, the crowd watched the west. The broadcaster droned: "Here comes Mills." Then: "Here comes Skeel. Note his speed." Down from a great height swooped the plane, catapulting toward the starting line in a wide arc. Then tragedy. The machine was seen to disintegrate, like a cardboard toy. A wing broke completely away, fluttered down. The crippled fuselage spun, dove precipitately behind a row of trees. Flying sticks and clods of earth, visible to the crowd a mile and a half away, told of Skeel's instant death—the first fatality in all five years of the Pulitzer velocity tests. Lieut. Mills' time of 216.55 m.p.h. was 27.12 miles slower than the
Navy's 1923 time. The Navy kept the Trophy. The meet was over.
Stunts. Between races, trick flying and aerial feats were performed. Two Army planes maneuvered with a length of ribbon connecting their wing tips. Though they looped the looped and performed other acrobatics, the ribbon was unbroken when they came to earth.