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Aviation History
1950
1950 - 1605.PDF
FLIGHT, 24 August 1950 229 POST-WAR AIR RACING —is Something Missing ? A Pre-war Winner Asks Some Pertinent Questions By WINIFRED BROWN AS something "rather different" in post-war air races,the Daily Express International South Coast Race*" on September 16th seems likely to be watched with interest, especially by " the forgotten pioneers of long ago " —in which- category a South African magazine recently included me! For some time we have been asking ourselves " What has gone wrong—air racing or we old pilots? " Has the sport really lost its thrill and popularity, or have we merely become the club bores who stand at a bar counter and say, between beers, "Things aren't what they were"? I have been thinking about these questions for several weeks —ever since, in fact, I set off, in excited anticipation and an Austin Seven—to see this year's King's Cup Race. The Wolverhampton Aero Club had very kindly invited me— "Just to show them you are still in the land of the living. Win?" chuckled John Bill over the telephone, for the pre- vious year the B.B.C. had coupled my name with the type of wings that go with a harp! It was 20 years since I had won the King's Cup and 19 years since I have even seen an air race. I had a shock coming to me! T HE author of this article. Miss Winifred Brown now Mrs.Adams) is the only woman winner of the King's Cup. In 1930, flying an Avro Avian biplane (Cirrus III engine), she won the race at 102.7 m.p.h. Held over a 750-mile round-England course starting and finishing at Hanworth (near the present London Airport), and with compulsory 40-minute halts at four airfields, the event attracted no fewer than 101 entries, 88 of which started. When asked if I were flying, I laughed and replied ungrammatically, "What, me! I'm used to 105 m.p.h., not 501." And as my little car proceeded at a sedate 40 m.p.h. my mind went back 20 years. Who would be there? Tommy Rose, Jimmy Jeffs, Robin Cazalet, "Lamps"? What fun it would be to see them all again ! On arrival at the Star and Garter I rushed to look at the hotel register ... I didn't recognize a single name! They must still be in the bar ... we had always lingered . . . they would come later; so, casting respectability to the wind, I ignored my married name and wrote " Win Brown and son." That night there was a R.A.F.A. dance—to meet the "famous pilots" ! The dancing was popular enough, but we were not; when we went on the stage the room prac- tically emptied—the dancers had probably done far more flying than we had ! Still there was a nice bar upstairs, and I talked with interest to the 1950 pilots. "Do you have flying pageants these days? " I asked a young man. For a moment he looked puzzled, then replied "Yes, but we call them 'air rallies-' " " When I flew in 1930 we had a 750-mile course. Do you like these short circuits? " "Oh yes! It's a better test of flying—none of this navigation stuff enters into it. '^ I thought sadly of Bert Hinkler, Cobham, Banard, Hubert Broad and Wally Hope. That night I went to bed at 11.30—if there was a party I didn't find it! Next day I got to the airfield early. I looked and blinked. Was I back in 1930? Where were these modern super aircraft? I felt I could have got into almost any one The author of this article after of the competing machines, and flown as I used to do ; but my son, aged nine, was thrilled as I took him round. It was then the Press descended on us—"That's right, sonny—smile up at your grannie! '' My expression was such that the pictures did not appear, but fortunately the bar tent opened and Jack Cantrill, who had given me my first flying lesson in 1925, assisted me to recover. Then a few old faces appeared, but we all sadly agreed that "things ain't wot they was." As for the race itself—well, it sounded fine on the radio but, with no rudeness intended, I would not describe Hawk Trainers and Austers " screaming " round anything. Prin- cess Margaret's Hurricane gave us a thrill and it was beauti- fully handled by Townsend, but the two Spits that I had relied on to impress my son promptly took off and got lost —so perhaps there is something in this '' navigation stuff '' after all! One we never saw again, but the other obligingly returned, much to the delight of my small son, and the spectators—but probably less so to the owner of the aircraft whose tail it knocked clean off. But what horrifies me about this race—and, for that matter, present-day air racing in general—is that the slide- rule experts, secreted with Charles Gardiner in glass towers, seem reasonably able to forecast the result after one lap! In the King's Cup they were about 60 yards out, and in the two Newcastle races a few weeks later it seems from Flight's report that the ultimate winners appeared unbeatable almost from the outset. Where is the sport, the fight, the fun of the thing? It seems to me that if you haven't beaten the handi- cappers before you start you might just as well stay in the bar. On a long circuit a race was never lost until it was won. Engines could pack up in sight of home ; flimsy racing wheels coulfl buckle On a careless landing; you might run into cloud or fog and fail to find that white cross in the field ; but no matter what happened there was always home—the others might be faring worse. To beat the: handicappers was a decided help, but only the beginning of a long story. After this year's King's Cup I scanned the newspapers, but gone were the old headlines The little publicity there was went to the tragic accident rather than to Edward Day. I wondered vaguely if a victory for Princess Margaret would have received more publicity, but I doubt it—my papers were full of the footballers who received a free trip to South America, £25 each and the offer of some ^175 a month, and returned highly incensed because a hair-cut cost 7s and the people carried rifles! So good for British prestige, and obviously so much more impoitant than a few men and women who risk their neck? for British
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