No lesser an eminence than the late Peter M. Bowers, Boeing engineer, aviation historian and one-time owner of the oldest registered Aeronca C-3, cautioned us against the seductions of the primary glider. He would have known-he had one.

For those not up to speed, a primary glider was bare bones aviating. They very much resembled a poorly designed, profile model airplane in full size. The fuselage was a truss fabricated of gusseted square longerons, uprights and cross braces. The empennage was more or less standard construction. The wing was mounted on the top longeron, directly behind the pilot and rigged with wire bracing extending from an inverted V strut, above, and to the lower longeron, below. The cockpit consisted of a seat and flight controls mounted on a skid protruding from the nose, thus placing the pilot in the prime position for maximum harm. Built as lightly as possible, they were, if possible, more fragile than they looked with a lot a wing area and a ton of drag. The flight characteristics were interesting-try throwing a feather.

The Aerodrome survived without a primary glider for many years, but just barely. The topic came up frequently and no one was very surprised when Cole acquired one that had been recently built. Why the builder had blessed us with this good fortune was not in question, we just wanted to put it to use.

Launching a primary glider can be done in several ways. Shoving it down a long hill has always been a preferred method, but the only Aerodrome hill of significance was of insufficient length to be effective. There is a complicated system involving a tower and dropping weights, which was beyond our ken. That left two alternatives: slingshot and automotive tow.

The slingshot has the attraction of being a group activity. The technique requires a long shock cord (we had a roll of it) and willing bodies (lots of those, too). At the middle of about 50 feet of shock cord a metal loop is attached. The loop is clenched in the jaws of a fitting mounted at the tip of the landing skid. The available hangers-on are divided into three groups. One restrains the glider. The other two seize the free ends of the shock cord. Upon command the two groups run straight ahead of the glider stretching the cord as far as possible, then vee to the sides, further stretching the cord and removing themselves from the path of flight. The group on the tail ultimately fatigues and the glider catapults down the runway, gains altitude and the pullers had damn well better let go of the shock cord when it goes slack. The glider proceeds to a landing.

This assumes the fitting on the front of the glider remains attached. When it does not, wherever the glider is in the process-it lands. The considerable energy charged in the shock cord releases resulting in two piles of the bruised and bleeding on either side of the runway. The fitting, having been set free, hurtles down the runway until arrested by the shock cord and returns, fortunately without the force it departed, dropping between the two piles. Slingshotting was abandoned.

Auto towing results in less crew wear and tear. One end of a rope is attached to the fitting (restored after the slingshot debacle) on the front of the glider and the other to a vehicle capable of reasonable acceleration-say a VW Beetle. (A VW aside-this is the same vehicle that was used to calibrate strut mounted airspeed indicators-it had sun roof through which a mechanic and the airspeed indicator could savor the breeze, while the driver yelled out speed increments and the mechanic marked them on the indicator. It was not the VW that met its fate under the treads of the Renault Tank-that is another story.) The vehicle tows the glider into the ether, the pilot releases the towrope and lands. It is important that the driver of the Beetle veer off the runaway as soon at the rope is released. As we gained confidence with auto towing, the glider became a crowd-pleaser in the Saturday “Lindbergh Era” show. That meant pressure to fly in less than ideal (dead calm) conditions, insuring that sooner or later there would be an “incident.”

It happened sooner.

On a certain Saturday, the wind was particularly squirrely, calm, then a gust, more calm, more gusts, in no way predictable. When the scheduled time for the glider arrived, so did an extended period of calm and the auto-tow was initiated with Cole on the precipice of the glider. At the point when he released the tow there came a particularly strong gust, about equaling the forward progress of the glider, bringing it to a groundspeed standstill. As soon as it had arrived the gust departed, stranding the glider with no forward motion, hence no way to generate lift. It stalled at an altitude not conducive to a full recovery, plummeted and dropped a wing. About the time we figured Cole for a goner came another gust and the nose lifted. However, the gust got under the raised wing further aggravating the turn. Cole bounced it off the groundloop barriers, skimmed the snow fence and fetched up in the PA system wires and trees with no damage to anyone. The crowd loved it.

Monday the primary glider went to the Museum. It has not moved since.

For those interested in how it was back in the day, here is a to a historical film.  These appear to be professionally constructed with tube fuselages.

It turns out the concept will not die, and here is a link to a modern interpretation. You will need a large balance in your checking account.