Flying high
in Marysville
In the spring of 1943, there was a kite-flying contest for boys in Marysville.
As I recall, it was sponsored by some civic organization, maybe the Lions Club or Kiwanis. The rules were simple: 1) no “purchased” kites were allowed. 2) the kites must be made by the kid who flew it, not by his dad. 3) prizes would be awarded to those who got their kites to the highest altitude.
Although my knowledge of aerodynamics was limited, even for an 11-year-old, I figured I had a pretty good shot at a prize. So I planned my strategy.
There was no way I could find any strips of balsa wood for the cross frame, so I carefully went through the scrap lumber pile in our garage and found a couple strips of pine that I could use. They were really too thick and heavy, but that’s the best I could do. I racked my brain to think of where I might get some paper sheets large enough to make a kite.
Then I remembered seeing large rolls of brown paper in Shuler’s Hardware Store on South Main Street. They used it to wrap large items that were purchased in their store.
So I walked downtown and went into the store to talk with Mr. Shuler, and he gladly unrolled a nice large sheet of paper for me.
The next day I began construction. The pine strips were put in position and glued together. When the glue dried, I reinforced the bond by tying the strips tightly together using some of my mother’s “Aunt Lydia’s Crochet Thread.” Using this same thread, I ran it around the ends of the wood strips to form the outline of the kite. The next part was easy. I simply cut the paper to fit the outline, overlapping and folding it over the thread, and glued it in place. Then to make sure it held tightly, I borrowed my dad’s stapler, and I stapled the paper all the way around the outline. I may not have had the handsomest kite, however I did have the heaviest.
The competition was to be held on the Coleman farm at the east edge of Marysville. On the appointed day, I rode my bicycle there, being careful not to go too fast to do any damage to my kite. When I got there, there were already 30 or more kids walking around the field, just waiting for the competition to begin. While waiting I began to scan the kites of my competitors, and one thing became obvious: A lot of them had taken the balsa wood strips from purchased kites and used them for their frame.
Why hadn’t I thought of that? The rules simply said you couldn’t use a purchased kite. They said nothing about not using the balsa strips. Oh well, let’s get this show on the road.
There were several adults there running the event, and one of them blew a whistle to start the competition. Fortunately there was a nice steady breeze, and within seconds several of the older boys’ kites started to climb. There was no need for their owners to run, as their kites simply took off into the atmosphere.
From the beginning I could see that I had a problem. I ran as fast as I could, trying to get my kite airborne, and sometimes it would go up maybe 10 feet or so, but then it rook a nose dive into the ground. As I ran back and forth with my kite I noticed another boy named Carl Myers, who happened to be having the same problem that I had. We were both frantically running back and forth to no avail. I looked at Carl’s kite, and realized that it could have been a clone of my own. Maybe it wasn’t as heavy as mine, but it was just as ugly.
In the meantime, the air became filled with kites. They danced on the breezes at different altitudes. A couple of the kites were starting to look very small as their owners let out more and more string. Then one boy’s kite reached such a height that he ran out of string and had to tie on a second roll to continue climbing.
Meanwhile back on earth, I reevaluated my situation. I was no longer competing with the older boys’ kites that were soaring hundreds of feet above me. I was competing with that Myers kid to see which one of us could get our kite airborne for more than 30 seconds. I thought that if I would add a little bit more tail on my kite it would perhaps prevent those violent nose dives. But I had brought no extra rags to add to the tail.
Fortunately I was wearing knickers, which were worn with knee socks. So I took off one shoe and removed one sock, which I added to the end of the kite’s tail.
Then, from out of nowhere, came a nice breeze that lifted my kite at least 25 feet into the air. Could this actually be happening? Was I not going to be at the bottom of this kite-flying totem pole?
Then I turned my head to see how Carl was doing, and was disturbed to see that the breeze had also lifted his kite into the air. Unfortunately as I watched his kite, I let out too much string at one time, so the line went limp and my kite nose dived into the ground. When it hit, the crochet thread that circumscribed the kite to give it its form slipped off the wooden pieces, and my kite-flying day was over.
I have tried to think how I can describe how I felt at that moment, but it is difficult. Let me put it this way: Imagine you are a basketball player and you are wide open for an easy shot. You take the shot, and it misses the basket by five feet.
The crowd immediately starts chanting, “air ball! … air ball!” That’s how I felt. This kite was my “air ball.”
But kids are really resilient. I stuck around and watched those older boys get their prizes. I even forced myself to clap when each one received his prize. Then I got back on my bike and headed up Fifth Street. As I peddled, I thought to myself, “Oh well, they will probably have another kite flying contest next year, and I bet I’ll win a prize then.