This year, as the 100-year anniversary of the Wright Brothers’ first powered flight draws near, a lot of attention is being focused on the two famous Wrights and their extraordinary accomplishment. Yet little attention goes to someone who had a lot to do with the Wrights’ success: Charles Taylor, the man who built from scratch the engine that enabled the Wright Brothers’ early flights.

 

We agree that Charles Taylor deserves attention; that’s why he’s a big part of this issue, from the cover story to a mention in Report From Washington, to Harry Kraemer’s eloquently-written Postflight profile. Taylor’s accomplishments are every bit as important as those of the Wright Brothers. That Taylor didn’t get much recognition is unfortunate, but not surprising.

 

Throughout history, the inspired leaders always get the good press, and the people who do the actual work that makes the accomplishment possible get short shrift. Not to take away from what the Wright Brothers did, but they could not have made the early flights without a reliable, high-output (for those times) engine.

 

Taylor undoubtedly lent his talented hands to the Wright Brothers’ aeronautical efforts in more ways than just the engine. Indeed, Taylor’s skills were in demand and he traveled as ground crew with Cal Rodgers on his famous flight across the U.S. in the Vin Fiz. It’s a good thing Taylor went with Rodgers as the Vin Fiz’s pilot crashed dozens of times on his way across the country, and the airplane that ended up on the West Coast contained a tiny fraction of the parts that it started with.

 

So, Charles Taylor deserves recognition this year. Yet most every article and mention of the 100-year anniversary neglects to mention Taylor. And the FAA’s new airman certificate has pictures of the Wrights but an A&P mechanic can’t order a certificate with Taylor’s photo. The first flight celebrations–there are more than one, almost half a dozen–don’t seem to be featuring Charles Taylor in any big way, especially the lavish Ford- and EAA-funded effort that takes place December 17 in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

 

I said that I wasn’t surprised at this lack of recognition. Part of the reason is that ground-pounders don’t get the same attention as the flyers. It’s been that way in the military for years, and that’s partially why pilots get more respect and adulation and money.

 

Another part of the reason is mechanics, by nature, generally don’t seek the spotlight. Mechanics are the behind-the-scenes people, completely necessary for the show to go on, but not needing the applause of the crowd, only the knowledge of having done the job well to keep on working every day.

 

But there’s another reason Charles Taylor isn’t being recognized as widely as we might like during this year of celebration. While he was responsible for creating that famous engine, he wasn’t there during the first flights. Wilbur and Orville acted as their own mechanics, perhaps one of the first cases of owner maintenance on record. I guess they felt they didn’t need Taylor’s talents and it was more important for him to stay behind and manage the bicycle shop.

 

And this goes back to the question, was Charles Taylor a mechanic or an engineer? Certainly, he was a machinist, and that is a title that is used by one of the major unions that represents aircraft mechanics in the airline industry. Taylor must have had some engineering skills, too, because he took that conceptual engine from ideas and crude drawings to a reliable 12 horsepower in just six weeks. But at his heart, I believe that Taylor was a brilliant mechanic; intuitive, knowledgeable, with the hands of a skillful surgeon, and the ability to think innovatively or as we would say today, outside of the box.

 

Taylor deserves more recognition, there’s no doubt about that. While the lack of attention given to Taylor by the aviation industry is regrettable and deplorable, what’s truly surprising is that other industries have not latched onto Taylor’s story. Not only should aircraft mechanics the world over be celebrating Taylor along with the Wrights, but so should machinists (real ones, the kind who make stuff out of metal), and so should engineers, because Taylor certainly was a great designer. Maybe Taylor is archetypal, representing all that is good about mechanics; the good ones are a little bit mechanic and machinist and engineer.

 

Let’s now not forget Charles Taylor, and let’s keep reminding the outside world that he is a great part of the success of aviation. And maybe, at the same time, we can all encourage the future Charles Taylors of the world that aviation isn’t such a bad place to work.