$8,073.61

To Charles Townsend Ludington, socialite of Philadelphia, $8,000 might be the price of a small cabin cruiser such as he sails on Biscayne Bay. For his young brother Nicholas ("Nikko") Saltus Ludington it might buy a few new mounts for his large stable of hunters. For either brother, it would be hardly more than pin money. But the $8,073.61 profit which showed on a balance sheet upon Brother Townsend's desk last week was as exciting to him as a great fortune. It was the first year's net earning of Ludington Line, plane-per-hour passenger service between New York, Philadelphia & Washington. Moreover, it was the first profit ever shown by a major air service operated without mail contract or subsidy, a profit made in the face of a virtual axiom that no line could make money in passenger business alone.

As practically sole financiers of the company the Brothers Ludington might well be proud. But they would be first to insist that all credit go to two young men who sold them the plan and then made it work: brawny, handsome Gene Vidal, West Point halfback of 1916-20, onetime Army flyer: and squint-eyed, leathery Paul ("Dog") Collins, War pilot, oldtime airmail pilot.

Ludington Line might never have come into existence had there not been a shake-up two years ago in Transcontinental Air Transport, which was losing heavily. The shake-up shook out Collins, who was general superintendent, and Vidal of the technical committee. Angry, because they felt that T. A. T. had publicized their discharge as a sort of burnt offering to disgruntled stockholders, Vidal & Collins saw a chance to square accounts. Together they had developed the germ of the plane-per-hour service. If they could start such a line in the East, they might compete with Eastern Air Transport which, like T. A. T., was one of the Curtiss-Keys group. They approached the Ludingtons, whose sporting instinct was aroused. The Ludingtons found the money, told the flyers to go ahead. The success of the venture hinged upon these factors: 1) low-priced equipment; 2) frequency of schedule, to reduce over head and to suit the service to the needs of the passenger; 3) short distance, to reduce variety of weather conditions; 4) unprecedented economy; 5) low fares; 6) passenger loads averaging 60%.

The operation was, in fact, a master piece of economy. Specially designed Stinson tri-motors requiring only one pilot were bought from Errett Lobban Cord. Automobile gas was used for cruising, until aviation gas prices were forced down to 7 1/2-c- per gal. Pilots were instructed to taxi on one motor instead of three. . . . Result : Cost per mi. was 37-c-, while other operators of tri-motors were having difficulty in getting under $1 per mi. At the end of the first year, September 1, Ludington had made 8,300 trips, about 28 per day; carried 66,000 passengers (average load 66%) without injury. In the whole year there was no crackup (though four days after the anniversary a pilot smashed a ship and injured himself, after discharging passengers). On occasion, sudden squalls would force planes down ; every emergency landing was made upon an airport. Vidal, executive vice president, and Collins, vice president in charge of operations, like to boast that the Ludington Line is the nearest thing to railroading in the air. Director Martin Wronsky of Germany's Luft Hansa made a careful study of it, began an hourly service between Cologne and Frankfort last summer. Last week Ludington added a new fast express schedule, 68 min. between Newark and Washington.

Ludington Line is something of an annoyance to the Post Office Department with its offers to carry mail for 25-c- per mi., less than half of what is paid Eastern Air Transport.

Other carriers wondered if the Ludingtons kept their books in the manner required by the Post Office Department of airmail operators.

Airmail Birthday

On September 23, 1911 at an aviation meet near Garden City, L. I., Earle Lewis Ovington was sworn in as ''air mail pilot number one." He climbed into his Bleriot monoplane Dragonfly, received a sack of mail from Postmaster-General Frank Harris Hitchcock, flew six miles to Mineola and dumped the sack (which he had been holding on his lap) at the feet of Postmaster William McCarthy. Seven years elapsed before regular airmail service was attempted in the U. S. with an experimental route between New York and Washington. But sentimentalists of aviation like to think of Earle Ovington's flight as the real beginning of U. S. airmail. A 20th birthday celebration was planned.

For the birthday party Pilot Ovington was to fly the mail again, this time in a commodious trimotored Fokker of American Airways, Inc., from United Airport, Burbank, Calif., near his Santa Barbara home. With him in the plane, besides a half dozen bigwigs, was to be former Postmaster-General Hitchcock. They were to fly to Tucson, Ariz, where Mr. Hitchcock is owner and publisher of the Daily Citizen.

Meanwhile at Roosevelt Field, Long Island, nearest airport to Garden City, the 1911 flight was to be reenacted by Charles Sherman ("Casey") Jones in a 1911 Curtiss "pusher," and by Dean Smith, crack airmail pilot and Antarctic flyer of the Byrd expedition, in a Pilgrim monoplane. One sack of mail was to be dropped by parachute near the Mineola postoffice, the remainder flown to Newark for transfer to regular airmail planes.

Pilot Ovington is the eldest grandson of Edward Judson Ovington, one of the founders of Ovington's, famed gift shop on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue. He took the degree of electrical engineer at M. I. T. in 1904, became interested in aviation in 1910 while reporting the First International Aviation Meet at Belmont Park, L. I. for the New York Times. Two months later he sailed for Europe to be taught to fly by Louis Bleriot, first man to fly the English Channel.* In another three months he took his "brevet," or pilot's license from the F. A. L, brought the first racing Bleriot to the U. S. and began to take one prize after another for first flights in various sections of the East. One prize of $10,000 he won for finishing first in a 186-mi. race from Boston to Nashua, N. H., Worcester, Providence and back to Boston.

Since then he has been active as an engineer, shipbuilder, bacteriologist, airport operator, realtor. In Santa Barbara, where he owns Ovington Air Terminal, he flies his thirteenth plane. He is also an ardent, skilled yachtsman. He is president of the Early Birds, organization of pilots who won their wings prior to 1916.

Asahi v. Nichi-Nichi

When it had nearly run out of excuses for refusing a Pacific flight permit to Hugh Herndon Jr. and Clyde Pangborn, the Japanese Aviation Bureau protested last fortnight that the application had been before it for only two weeks. This was true, although the flyers' plea had made international conversation since their arrest six weeks ago for violating Japanese aviation laws (TIME, Aug. 17). Then the officials said they were afraid that the permit would be taken as a "precedent" by future offenders. Next, they suggested that the flyers wait until spring for the flight; but they would not promise to issue them the very first permit of next season. Finally last week, after much conversation between Aviation Bureau, War Ministry and U. S. Embassy the permit was issued, laden with ten conditions. Chief condition: the flyers must take off before Oct. 15, and only one attempt will be allowed.

Promptly upon gaining their clearance Herndon & Pangborn filed entry for the $25,000 prize offered by the Tokyo Asahi for the first flight from Japan to the U. S. It was that newspaper, along with the rest of the Japanese press, which largely accounted for the flyers' difficulties with the authorities according to Managing Editor Kimpei Sheba of the Japan Times, writing this month in Editor & Publisher.

Editor Sheba's story: Herndon & Pangborn were under contract with North American Newspaper Alliance whose client, Tokyo Nichi-Nichi, had bought the rights to their story. The contract made it improper for the flyers to compete for the Asahi's prize, but the Asahi made persistent overtures nonetheless. Each paper feared that the other would win the flyers as proteges. Hence, when the government officials showed hostility toward the men for entering Japan without a permit and flying over fortified zones, each paper seized the opportunity to destroy the flyers' value to the opposition. Both alighted heavily upon the ''spy'' charge; the rest of the press promptly followed. "In 48 hours the leading papers . . . had turned the heroes into criminals. . . . Each paper was now wishing the airmen on the other.'' Nichi-Nichi willingly released the flyers from their contract, but Asahi would not accept them as contestants until the flight permit had been granted.

On Staten Island

In the fast Lockheed-Altair with which he has been publicizing The Crusaders, anti-Prohibition organization (TIME, July 27) Pilot James Goodwin Hall took off last week, with Banker Peter J. Brady as passenger, for the American Legion convention in Detroit, from New York's Floyd Bennett Airport, pet project of Banker Brady as chairman of Mayor James John Walker's Committee on Aviation. In a fog over Staten Island, the plane lost flying speed, crashed through a rooftop. Banker Brady was killed. A woman, owner of the house, was burned to death by a shower of blazing gasoline.

"Get Publicity"

To the astonishment of most observers Don Moyle and Cecil Allen were heard from last week, nine days after they took off from Japan for Seattle (TIME, Sept. 21). They turned up at Miano Pilgino, a tiny village on the coast of Kamchatka, Siberia later flew on to Nome. Because of the text of Movie's first radio message to his fiancee, saying "have Frank put publicity man on job," the flyers' backers were obliged to make heated denials that the plane's disappearance was a hoax.

But there was no suggestion of hoax in the rescue at sea of Willy Rody, Christian Johanssen and Fernando Costa Viega whose Junkers monoplane Esa fell into the sea on their transatlantic flight from Portugal last fortnight (TIME, Sept. 21). A Norwegian freighter found them afloat off Cape Pine, N. F.

*Last week Pioneer Bleriot offered a trophy bearing his name to anyone maintaining a speed of 400 m.p.h. for a half hour on land, water, or in the air. The first person to travel 650 m.p.h. would have permanent possession.

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