Articles from Popular Mechanics Magazine
Up all hours and badly in need of sleep, the pointy headed historians at this website have examined all other possibilities and – leaving no stone un-turned, mind you – have unanimously voted in favor of dubbing this the weirdest invention of 1912…
In light of the overwhelming hostility toward Germans, whether they come to Paris to sign a peace treaty or for other reasons, the Parisian Gendarmes thought it best to enclose their hotel with palisade-style fencing, which they hoped would serve the dual purpose of keeping them in as much as it would serve to keep hostile natives out.
A photo of the barricade illustrates the article.
Attached is a photograph and short description of One of the latest bomb-dropping devices that were available to French and British pilots during the earliest days of World War One.
Pictured herein is the French dirigible ADJUDANT REAU as it appeared during the first months of the First World War.
Also depicted are two early tri-planes which were used to help elevate the craft.
A rare action photograph of an unidentified car and driver smashing into the crowd-control fencing at the Vanderbilt Cup Races held in Santa Monica, California during the summer of 1914. The unstoppable juggernaut was cruising at sixty-miles miles per hour.
Click here to read about the historic trans-Atlantic flight of Charles Lindbergh.
Alfonso XIII of Spain (1886 – 1941) is remembered as a pretty level-headed guy, but non the less, it was news items like this one that made Karl Marx first dip his nib in the inkwell…
A great picture of Lieutenant Charles Godefroy flying his Nieuport under the great arch of Paris during the Autumn of 1919. The stunt was performed three weeks after the French Victory parade that marked the end of the First World War and was intended to serve as a salute to the French pilots who died during the course of that blood bath.
A passing glance at aviation magazines from the early Twentieth Century reveals that that particular sub-culture was very concerned with the ability to allow for trouble-free ground transport of aircraft. There were many magazine articles picturing how biplanes could be deconstructed for this purpose and up until 1912, or so we are led to believe by the editors of Popular Mechanics, the de Marcay-Mooney monoplane was the first flying machine that was able to have it’s wings fold back (much like a bird or a beetle) and when re-set at 90 degrees for take-off, could fly successfully.
A year and a half before the end of World War I, the German Army introduced the Lederschutzmasken, a leather gas mask made of specially treated Bavarian sheepskin with removable lenses. Designed to replace the rubberized cloth gas masks, the 1917 respirators proved to be far more effective against phosgene gas than the 1915 masks. The Allied powers dismissed the new design as evidence that material shortages on the German home front were forcing changes.
Click here to read about the celebrations that took place in Paris the day World War One ended.
Many dented fenders later, the first signal indicators show up. This article makes clear that both the Brake light and the turning signal indicator are both the same color (red) but they are an improvement on what was sporadically used in a few circles: the Illuminated Glove (a fingerless mit intended for the left-hand that was supposedly easier to see when making stop or turning gestures).
This is a small illustrated page about an early monoplane popularly known on the English isles as the Flying Teatray. A peculiar looking machine, it apparently was able to get off the ground for a while (see illustration) but it was passed by for service during the First World War, which had been raging for some three months by the time this article was published.
