Flights & Flyers

Flights & Flyers Via Brewery. While the rival whom he failed to beat was starting after fresh triumphs, hapless Jimmie Mattern was fretting and fuming at Anadyr, the isolated Siberian settlement where he was rescued fortnight ago (TIME, July 17). He had recovered from the effects of two weeks starvation, and he was able to hobble around on his broken ankle. All he wanted now was a chance to complete the first solo flight around the world before Wiley Post could snare that honor too. His Lockheed Century of Progress was a wreck where it had cracked up in the wilderness, result of a frozen oil line. He needed another plane. A Brooklyn brewer whom he had never met turned out to be his pillar of hope. When Jimmie Mattern was first lost, a group of friends at Floyd Bennett Field, N. Y. were determined to find him. In their search for funds someone introduced them to Irving Friedman, sleek president of Brooklyn's Kings Brewery. Brewer Friedman is no flyer. But "they sounded so sincere, don't you know?" He gave them money to buy the sturdy old Bellanca which Pangborn & Herndon flew around the world. Off to Alaska went the rescue party, headed by Pilots William Alexander & Fred Fetterman. Ther. Mattern turned up in Siberia. A U. S. plane could not fly there without Soviet permission, nor could a Russian plane take Mattern to Nome without U. S. permission. But Mos cow and Washington are not on speaking terms. Thus began a long and devious exchange of messages between the capitals through the office of Brewer Friedman, Struggling with unpronounceable Russian names, he took Moscow cablegrams from Boris Skvirsky, unofficial Soviet representative in Washington, relayed them to the State Department, got replies and shot them back to Mr. Skvirsky. The upshot was permission for the Soviet pilot Levanovsky to deliver Mattern to Nome, where Brewer Friedman's rescue plane will be turned over to him for a plucky last lap. Winnie Mae. ''Do be careful," Mrs. Mae Laine Post begged. "O. K.," replied her stocky, swart, one-eyed husband, Wiley. A few minutes later Pilot Post climbed into his big white-&-purple Lockheed monoplane Winnie Mae and roared away from Floyd Bennett Field, N. Y., on his second flight around the world. Two years ago with Navigator Harold Gatty, he made an 8 1/2-day record which he now proposed to beat by a generous margin. He was flying alone this time, but with a Sperry automatic pilot and a directional radio. Through fog, heavy clouds and snow, Pilot Post, robot & radio cut a superbly accurate course to Berlin in the phenomenal time of 25 hr. 45 min. The slowness of mechanics at Tempelhof Airdrome enraged him. "Damn it, I want to push on," he fumed, and paced the field impatiently for two hours while mechanics turned the cranks of slow fuel-pumps. Off again, Winnie Mae got to the Russian border, was driven by thunderstorms back to Koenigsberg, East Prussia, where Pilot Post grudgingly took five hours sleep, vowing not to shut his eyes again until reaching Alaska. Winnie Mae thundered out of Moscow a half-day ahead of schedule. But an oil leak was causing the robot to misbehave and Pilot Post had practically all the burden of solo flying. Twice he got lost in dirty weather over Siberian wilderness, but found Novosibirsk by sheer skill and luck. He had stretched his lead to 17 hr. upon bounding out of Novosibirsk for Irkutsk, Khabarovsk, Fairbanks, Edmonton and home. Homecoming, When Wiley Post started his round-the-world flight two years ago he was followed across the Atlantic by two men (Hillig & Hoiriis) in a Bellanca. They wanted to get home to Germany and Denmark in a blaze of glory. Last week Pilot Post was trailed by another Bellanca with two glory-seeking Lithuanians, Stephen Darius & Stanley Girenas. Adventurous barnstormers, they met in the U. S. two years ago, resolved to fly home to Kovno. To finance the flight they got scores of Lithuanians to pay $25 or more to have their names painted on the sides of the plane Lithuanica. Hundreds of others paid $1 for listing in a "Book of Honor" which was to be taken in the plane to the Kovno Museum. All was ready last week except one essential: they had not obtained permission to fly over foreign countries en route. By Department of Commerce rule they could not take off. They loaded their ship to the roof with fuel, told the manager of Floyd Bennett Field they were going up for a "load test"--which he was powerless to prevent, despite the fact that they also took food supplies aboard. Groaning under its heavy load, the plane took all but a few feet of the mile-long runway before staggering into the air. Two days later at Soldin, 65 mi. from Berlin, were found the wreck of the Lithuanica, the dead bodies of its pilots. Hopelessly lost, they had searched through the night for a landing place, until their fuel ran out.

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