Howard Dufour, co-author of Charles E. Taylor, 1868-1956, The Wright Brothers Mechanician, passed away this weekend in Dayton, OH.
The following bio is taken from his book:
“Howard R. DuFour originally came from Detroit, Michigan. After being introduced to machine tools in technical high school, he was employed, from 1932 until 1940, as a draftsman, photographer, and special machinist. During WWII, his skills were needed to support the defense industry in Dayton, Ohio, culminating with an assignment on the Manhattan Project. Remaining in Dayton after the war, he operated his own camera repair business. Starting in 1951, he worked in Dayton for Monsanto, Dabel, and National Cash Register as an instrument machinist, tool and die maker and machine tool and design engineer, respectively. By 1976, as a master model maker, he joined the staff at Wright State University, supervising the work of its instrument machine shop. During his lengthy career he co-authored several technical reports and secured some U.S. patents. Retired since 1981, he has devoted most of his time to researching the life and times of a kindred spirit – the subject of this book.”
Aircraft maintenance professionals around the world owe Mr. DuFour a great amount of gratitude. Because of Howard’s devotion in the last decades of his life to researching the life and times of Charles E. Taylor, we know about man who designed and built the engine that powered the Wright Flyer as it made the world’s first self-powered flight – a flight that propelled the Wright Brothers into history. Thanks to DuFour, we recognize the importance of Charles Taylor’s contributions to aviation history. Without Charles Taylor’s help, who knows when, or if, the Wright Glider would have become the Wright Flyer. And without DuFour’s research, who knows when, or if, Charles Taylor’s story would have been told.
In the last paragraph of his book, DuFour writes, “A search of relevant literature shows that, in general, Charlie was more of a supporting actor than a main character in the drama of early flight. His role, however, at the time he acted his part, was crucial to the ultimate success of the first act. We observe that he acted his part well. When the curtain fell on his mortal existence, not only had he helped to bring acclaim to the principal actors, but also we, the audience, are better for having observed his performance as well.”
In the Epilogue, Howard goes on to write, “One wonders sometimes if man dreamed about flight, even in the days of Adam. There are, after all, biblical references to flight, myths depicted in various art forms of gods and animals, as well as men, all indulging in this exciting activity. Each emerging civilization, whether in Babylonia, Assyria, Egypt or China, left records of their thoughts on the subject. Even the sophisticated Romans paid homage to a winged god by the name of Mercury. Perhaps the most often quoted example of early thoughts about flight belongs to the Greek legend of Daedalus, who warned his adventurous son, Icarus, against the danger of flying too close to the sun on his waxen wings. The rest, as they say, is history!
“Thought at last gave rise to action. Certain objects could be propelled through the air – arrows, rockets, kites and boomerangs. Slowly, as scientific thought and method permitted, men tried to adapt themselves to the medium of the air, mostly in imitation of the birds. In late medieval times, one Friar Roger Bacon conceived a navigable metal balloon, propelled by flapping wings. The premier Renaissance man, Leonardo da Vinci, numbered several different types of flying machines among his many ideas. By the 18th century, power was king, especially steam, and men had begun to realize therein lay one of the principal keys to manned flight. This was the era of Cayley and Stringfellow. The 19th century ushered in the Industrial Revolution and everything became possible. Without the ability to control a machine in flight, even power would be of little value. Thus, men like the Lilienthals and Plicher tried to solve this problem, ultimately at the expense of their lives. Different approaches were attempted by Hargrave, Chanute, Maxim, and Langley, each coming a little closer to the answer.
“One might envision a very patient Father watching all of this throughout the centuries. Then, as fathers are wont to do with their children, He gave them a little assistance. As mankind entered the 20th century, three of His children came together. Two had the vision, the genius, to assimilate all existing knowledge on the subject and distill it into the final solution. The third had the skills needed to match hand with brain and product the motive power for that final solution. As He looked down at Kitty Hawk, it is not unreasonable to expect, like any father in similar circumstances, a degree of satisfaction to have been expressed. Perhaps, if one could have listened carefully, one might have heard a voice in the wind saying, ‘Well done, boys, all three of you.’”
As Howard DuFour’s curtain falls on his mortal existence, we honor the contribution he made to educating us about Charles E. Taylor. We, the audience, are better thanks to DuFour’s part in the ongoing drama of aviation.
One might even imagine the Father greeting him saying, “Well done, Howard. Well done.”
