Michael Mayer - Time Trippers The Nights of the Round Table

I smiled, no complimentary food service, just like today.

We ate some very good sandwiches across the street with some pilot types, including a weather beaten guy who could pass for a cowboy. Interesting, the bread had to be sliced by hand - pre-sliced bread still hadn’t been invented yet. We got some food to bring along and some water. We ambled back to the airport, home to some old bi-planes of Great War vintage, and some sharp single-wing aircraft as well.

Couldn’t resist a look into the hangar and there she sat, Northwest Airways aircraft number 1, C-872, a single-engine 3-passenger bi-plane Stinson Detroiter in basic black with the old, familiar airmail-era logo on her side, snazzy yellow stripe as well.

From the Ed Coates Collection

The ‘cowboy’ from the diner was adjusting something on the motor, dressed in a full flying suit and leather helmet, when he greeted us.

“You flying with us today or just visiting?” he asked amiably.

“We’re flying to St. Paul.”

“Yeah, that’s right, we have three passengers today, a full load! Hi, I’m Charlie Holman, Operations Manager and your pilot today. Friends just call me ‘Speed.”

“Really?” Jonathan asked. “How high will the plane go?”

“We’ll travel about 7,000 feet or so. It’s good flying weather, and since you’re here and we are only carrying yesterday’s excess mail, we’ll leave early today. Only a bit of mail for La Crosse and we can’t carry any more than three passengers so we may as well hit the road. We can skip the other stops and save some money too,” he said casually.

It was about 1 pm when they rolled her out to the field and the mechanic rotated the propeller to get oil into the cylinders before starting. Speed put our suitcases in the cargo door in the back and we climbed in with some difficulty. The kids were excited, Jonathan jumping up and down. I knew it was safe, and ‘Speed’ Holman himself was the pilot.

They cranked up the engine, whose noise was so loud we had to shout to talk. We buckled our seat belts and he taxied out on the rough field to face downwind and gunned the motor. We started our roll on the bumpy runway and had liftoff, slowly climbing into the air over the treetops. We made a beeline west and Speed shouted to me that we’d ‘fly the rails’ use the railroad tracks to navigate, since the airmail service run by the post office didn’t provide sufficient navigational beacons and radio direction finding was in its infancy.

There were only a few rudimentary instruments, an altimeter that was only partially accurate, requiring the pilot to know the height of the ground below, since it depended on air pressure. He also had a compass of course and the new level flight indicator. Most fliers at the time relied on ‘flying by the seat of your pants’ which meant flying by feeling alone. Army flier and aviation pioneer Jimmy Doolittle had to prove that flying on instruments was the only safe way to fly, and would go on to prove that one could fly blind in 1929, relying only on instruments, a major advance in aviation.

We climbed very slowly. Speed explained that we’d go higher once we burned off more fuel. The kids in the back seats were playing and looking out the window having a great time. At that altitude you could really see things, except for it being rather bumpy. It was fun riding the reliable Stinson mail plane with the famous ‘Speed’ Holman as pilot. He shared a big thermos of coffee with me and brought along two cokes for the kids “compliments of the management” he quipped as we enjoyed our sandwiches.

We got to the Mississippi and made a right turn heading up river. It was beautiful to see the cliff-lined banks at so low an altitude! Very scenic. Gradually we approached La Crosse, with all its familiar islands in the river.

We got to La Crosse’s old airport, Salzar Field south of town and made a quick stop then took off again, the landscape getting more familiar by the minute passing over Winona and Red Wing as we flew up the Mississippi Valley. We then banked west to approach St. Paul from the southwest into the wind, over where our homes should be in Lakeville, near Crystal Lake, only to see farms and wilderness.

Soon, St. Paul came into view and we landed at the brand new airport, what would later be known as Holman Field just at 6 pm as it was getting dark. We thanked him, and watched as he took off on the final leg of the journey to Minneapolis, the short hop to the airfield at the old speedway, Wold-Chamberlain Field, site of today’s Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport.

We took a taxi to the St Paul Hotel and checked in for the night. Except for the Ordway, the square in front of the hotel looks much the same as it does today, the library and Landmark Center opposite each other. I resisted the temptation to ride around on the old streetcars. Just wanted to get back home.

We checked into our expensive room. This is where I hoped to do the ‘snap-back’ to our time, and had booked it before leaving for a couple of days when I calculated our return date, ensuring that the room wouldn’t be occupied.

We changed at last into our modern clothes and took out the ‘magic wand’ again. I hypnotized the kids and myself, feeling the magic work as it vibrated again, letting the wonderful Jazz Age and its precious memories fade and let the present fill our minds back in again. It was easy enough in the right portal and this was it.

We woke up and it was dark. We rubbed our eyes and looked around and saw the reassuring presence of the TV, the thermostat and DVD player.

“We’re baaa-ack!” I said as the kids woke up.

Just then the door opened and a young couple walked in with their bags.

“Oh, we must have the wrong room… say, wait a minute, what are you doing in our room?” the man said. “They told me they had a no-show.” I remembered that if we hadn’t checked in, they’d cancel my reservation and resell the room.

I begged their pardon: “Sorry, our mistake!” and hurried out with our bags. The hotel management would never believe our excuse. As it turned out we arrived back in St. Paul on the day AFTER we traveled in time, two days BEFORE I had calculated our return and our hotel reservation. That is why we ran into that couple! Good thing we ‘appeared’ before they were in the room - we might have seemed like a family of ghosts. Apparently, time travel was much more inaccurate than it appeared, we would have to be more careful in the future.

I had hidden my credit cards, ID and money in my modern clothes so we hailed a cab and headed back. I could retrieve my car from the airport Park and Ride lot later. We were glad to get home.

I told the kids that we couldn’t tell ANYONE about our adventures. If anyone ever DID believe our story, and the magic wand EVER got into the wrong hands, it could be devastating, it could change history, which would give the possessor almost unlimited power.

How tempting to try to change things at critical points in history, even if they were good things! Imagine, what would happen if one could prevent the assassination of Presidents Lincoln or Kennedy? The attack on Pearl Harbor, the sinking of the Titanic? Kill Hitler before he became leader of Germany? 9-11? Maybe it would improve the world, maybe not. Who was I to decide such things? No, I vowed to use it only for research.

Suddenly, I remembered the strange telegram from EJHanusen. I dug it out of my ‘traveling clothes’ and re-read it again and again. EJHanusen? A cold shiver ran up my spine. Hanusen…could it be? EJ - Eric Jan Hanussen - if spelled with a double ‘s’ - the famous Czech ‘hellseher’ or clairvoyant who predicted so much about Hitler. Perhaps he knew about Houdini’s wand - that would explain the EW for Erich Weiss, Houdini’s real name - incredible?