Future Theatre Has Long History As A Community Center.

The nondescript brick building at 83 S. Walnut St., nestled between a former ice cream factory and burger stand and the first automobile factory in Chillicothe, is on a fast track to being the first permanent venue of the 51-year-old Chillicothe Civic Theatre group, which purchased the former Bethel Full Gospel Church in 2015.

Former St. Mark's Episcopal Mission, circa 2000.

The building itself is an enlarged and remodeled incarnation of a church that had stood on the lot for decades. The original church was a mission-style structure that in my young mind bore a striking resemblance to the famous Alamo in Texas, except this one was painted gray-blue. In the late 1990s, Bethel Full Gospel Church, established in 1963, decided to renovate the structure, at the expense of the Mission-style design, once described by the Gazette as "a handsome edifice." Of the original structure only portions of the exterior walls remain.

Former Bethel Full Gospel Church, 2019.

It has recently come to my attention, thanks to my insatiable desire to learn more about Chillicothe's history, that the church was not always a church. Regardless, 83 S. Walnut St. for most of its existence was of great significance to Chillicothe's African-American community, spiritually and secularly.

A headline in the November 7, 1946 Chillicothe Gazette & News-Advertiser, "Walnut Street Y Gives Negro Youth Supervised Program," piqued my curiosity. The article included a photo of a group of children and adults lined up in front of a brick building that I did not readily recognize. The landscape of S. Walnut St., a de facto boundary of Chillicothe's predominantly black South End, changed considerably in the 1960s, with the development of metropolitan housing, and the construction of the current post office and the Tiffin Tower apartment building. Looking at the grainy newspaper photo, the "Walnut Street Y" resembled a factory or garage that had been repurposed. The article in question didn't really give any solid details on the location of the facility.

Moreover, it had never occurred to me that Chillicothe, on the surface a "progressive" city that was on the Underground Railroad, ever had a segregated YMCA, although it shouldn't have surprised me, as it once had a segregated school, Southern School. At the time, the main local YMCA was in a large house on W. Second St., after shuffling from location to location around town.

But today, the pieces fit together, and I found out that the "Walnut Street Y" was in the very same building (in a previous life) that CCT now calls home, and that was only part of the story.

That story begins in 1897, when St. Paul's Episcopal Church, established in Chillicothe in 1817, opened "a mission church among Negro citizens," called St. Mark's Episcopal Mission. The congregation originally met in the Clinton Hotel building on W. Water St., led by lay minister Mr. Charles W. Boot. At the turn of the century, the mission launched a fundraising drive to build a church building. In 1902 it was announced by the Episcopal diocese that the congregation's funds would be matched by a $1,000 contribution from Mr. W.A. Proctor. The property at 83 S. Walnut St., just south of St. Paul's original edifice, was acquired, and on June 13, 1906, the cornerstone for St. Mark's Episcopal Mission was laid.

On Sunday, April 14, 1907, St. Mark's Episcopal Mission was dedicated and consecrated by Rt. Rev. Boyd Vincent, D.D., bishop of the southern Ohio Protestant Episcopal diocese. Contemporary accounts don't offer much description of the building itself, except to call it a "pretty little edifice...beautifully decorated with Easter lilies and greenery" for the occasion. The first pastor of the new church was Rev. William D. Brown.

It's not clear when St. Mark's Mission ceased worship activities in the Walnut St. church, but it was announced in 1938 that local Boy Scout Troop 285, sponsored by St. Paul's Episcopal Church on E. Main St., would begin meeting in the "vacant" Walnut St. mission, which they'd been cleaning for the past few weeks. The Boy Scouts, along with their counterparts, the Sea Scouts, held meetings in the former Mission until at least 1943.

In October of 1944, the USO (United Service Organizations) opened a "Negro USO lounge" at the corner of Seventh and Walnut Sts. in the area of what is now Lincoln Park apartments. The space, outfitted by the USO which also provided a small allowance for upkeep, also served as a YMCA center. It provided off-duty servicemen card and ping-pong tables, as well as hosting dances twice a week, and was used by the "Y" on Monday through Wednesday. The Gazette stated in a Nov. 1944 article that both organizations were part of the United War & Community Fund.

Original USO-YMCA Center at Walnut and Seventh Sts. (Burl Lee Grocery)

It was apparently, probably from the beginning, that the space at Seventh and Walnut was inadequate, and in June, 1945, it was announced that the USO-YMCA center would be moving to larger quarters in the former St. Mark's Episcopal Mission building on Walnut St.

On August 7, 1945, the USO presented a musical Army show, "Hank's Yanks," at the Mission, which had been redecorated inside and outside, and furnished by the USO with seating and game equipment. Two days later, a public open house was held. On August 11, 1945, the "Negro USO Center" was officially dedicated in a ceremony featuring USO, YMCA, and military officials, and Chillicothe Mayor Harold Brown. It's somewhat significant to note that during this same week, both Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been obliterated by atomic bombs, setting the stage for Japan's surrender just three days after the center's dedication.

After the war ended, the United War & Community Fund that had supported the YMCA and USO programs became the Community Chest, in some ways, if not indirectly, an ancestor of the United Way. The center in the old mission became known as the Walnut Street YMCA and continued under the direction of Mrs. Edith Trent until at least 1947. A daily Bible school was conducted each summer.

The development of the Walnut Street YMCA in the former St. Mark's was contemporaneous with that of the Carver Community Center, established in the former Covert Baking Co. building on W. Fourth St. just a block from the mission. Carver Center founder Rev. Wesley Matthews, former pastor of Quinn Chapel AME Church, was named in the 1946 article as one of the community leaders that made the Bible school at the Walnut St. facility possible.

Once again, the history trail gets a bit foggy. In July, 1949, Lorain Brown Post 126, the local African-American post of the American Legion, which had been meeting in various locations over the years, including the former Memorial Hall on W. Main St., had its first meeting in the "former USO center" on S. Walnut St. The post was commanded by Robert D. Harris, and named for a local African-American soldier who died at sea while returning from Europe in 1919.

The American Legion continued to meet in the Walnut Street mission until 1951. At the beginning of 1952, it was announced that the U.S. Naval Reserve Electronics Division, which had been meeting in the former GAR Hall (and Atwell Auto dealership) since shortly after the war, would be setting up headquarters in the former USO building, then called Moss Hall, after the building's current owner, barber and property owner Clyde E. Moss.

Moss was the Master of Chillicothe Ionic Lodge No. 6, the African-American branch of the Freemasons, who used the building for lodge meetings even after the Naval Reserves moved in. Local civic groups were also allowed to use the hall for fundraising rummage sales.

Within a few years, the Naval Reserves were scouting for other lodging, and in 1956, plans were made to build a facility on former canal lands near Eastern Ave. Due to various hitches, the plans for Eastern Ave fell through, and the USNR continued using the mission building until 1960, when it was decided to build a Naval Reserve facility onto the Skaggs Army Reserve Training Center on Rt. 50 W. (Western Ave.). Shortly thereafter, Clyde Moss offered the former Reserve center for sale, lease, or trade for residential property.

Two views of the Naval Reserve Center at St. Mark's Mission.

In the meantime, the seeds were being sown for the building's return to a spiritual purpose. On November 11, 1945, Bethel Full Gospel Church held its first services on Kendrick Ave., a street off S. Woodbridge Ave., on a hill just west of the city limits, in an area known for many years as "White Heaven." The first pastor of the church was Rev. David E. Cotton, succeeded by Rev. William B. Brooks, who also was proprietor of the settlement's only grocery store.

Life was not easy on the hill, to put it lightly. The streets were not properly paved until the 1960s, and it wasn't until the late 1970s. The area was also plagued with fires, one of which destroyed Rev. Brook's grocery in 1952. Rev. Brooks died in 1959, and his widow Lovada Brooks carried on in his stead. In the early 1960s, a shakeup in the church led to a split in the congregation, with one opening the Glorious Church Of God In Christ at the corner of Seventh and Walnut (original location of the USO Club) and the other continuing on Kendrick Ave. for a short time.

In November, 1963, the new Bethel Full Gospel Church of Christ was dedicated in the original St. Mark's Episcopal Mission after nearly a quarter century of the space being a largely secular community center. The original pastor was Rev. Charles B. Jones, with associate pastor Clyde Harris. The church was incorporated December 4, 1964. Bethel Church thrived in this location for the next 50 years. The renovations were complete by 2007, but the church itself was officially dissolved in late 2018.

Bethel Full Gospel Church, circa 2013.

Surviving portion of the original wall of St. Mark's Episcopal
Church, as it appeared in April, 2019. 

The Chillicothe Civic Theatre was founded in 1968 and for much of its existence has staged productions throughout the city. The Carlisle Building, the Majestic Theatre, Scioto Township Hall, Carver Community Center, St. Peter's School, Ross County Courthouse, OU-C Bennett Hall, and the Pump House Center For The Arts are among the venues the group has performed in.

CCT purchased the Bethel Full Gospel Church building in December, 2013, with the intent of converting it into an intimate 100-seat theatre space and permanent home for their organization. They've been actively raising funds since that time, doing what they can. In 2016, much of the interior framing was underway, and this spring, exterior improvements began in earnest.

Judging from the original drawings for the planned CCT facility, it appears that the new building will retain some of the architectural features of the original structure, particularly the walls that were left exposed in the original remodeling of the church. I hope that future generations of theatregoers will know something of the rich history behind 83 S. Walnut St. and its significance to a historic community.

Original 2014 architectural drawings showing CCT's planned 100-seat theatre building, retaining some of the features of the original St. Mark's Mission building.

"Bud" Cowart And His Buddies Were No Cowards

INTRODUCTION

In the 1920s and 1930s, the early days of aviation, giant silver monsters of the air crossed the country and circled the globe. The only thing more thrilling than seeing these airships overhead was to see one up close, or better yet, to have a hands-on experience with one. Three young men got their chance in May, 1932, when the world's newest, largest, and most technologically advanced dirigible paid a visit to their training base. Their lives would be changed in one turbulent moment.

This is their story.

PORTENTS OF DISASTER

On April 4, 1933, the U.S.S. "Akron" (ZRS-4), one of the U.S. Navy's three giant rigid airships, crashed into the Atlantic just off Barnegat Light. All but three of the ship's 76 crew members perished, including Admiral William A. Moffett.

There were several portents of disaster during the ill-fated dirigible's short service life. The first of these occurred on February 22, 1932, at Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey, when, in the presence of Navy dignitaries and the press, a gust of wind hit the tail, causing the lower fin to smash into the ground, sustaining considerable damage as film cameras rolled. Repairs took the "Akron" out of commission until April.

After a series of test flights that saw experimentation with catching and releasing airplanes from a "trapeze" built into the ship, and a modern version of the WW1-era "spy car," the ship was readied for a coast-to-coast flight to Sunnyvale NAS in California, where a hangar for the "Akron"'s planned sister ship was being built. The ship departed Lakehurst on May 8, 1932.

On May 11, the ship reached Camp Kearney in San Diego, a training base on the site of what is now Marine Corps Air Station Mirimar. A rudimentary mooring mast had been installed for the use of airships, and the "Akron" attempted that day to use it. A contingent of 200 enlisted men were chosen from a pool of volunteers to serve as a makeshift ground crew, given last minute training, and assigned in teams of 30-45 to the mooring and handling ropes lowered from the ship. At the end of each line was a ring, to which were attached a bundle of "spider lines." At the end of each line was a "toggle," an 8-inch dowel rod spliced into a knot for each man to hold onto.

Among the young sailors on the field that day were Aviation Carpenter's Mate 3rd Class Robert H. Edsall, 20, of Elkhart, Indiana; Apprentice Seaman Nigel M. Henton, 18, of Fresno, California; and 19-year-old Apprentice Seaman Charles M. "Bud" Cowart, of Sand Springs, Oklahoma. Like most of the enlistees chosen for the physically strenuous detail of wrangling a 785-foot long dirigible to the ground, they each had some degree of athletic ability. Edsall was a member of the station tennis team. Cowart, a farm boy, was an amateur boxer. Henton was known at Camp Kearney as an accomplished gymnast, who entertained his fellow crewmembers with handsprings as they awaited the ship's arrival.

"LET GO!"

By the time the "Akron" arrived, it was lightened by the use of 40 tons of fuel between the east and west coasts, and heated by the morning sun. The resulting increase in buoyancy made the ship extremely difficult to handle by the inexperienced ground crew, and three unsuccessful attempts to land had already been made. The main cable to the mooring mast, attached to a winch salvaged from a World War I minesweeper, was cut with an ax as the ship abruptly rose, to avoid the near-vertical headstand that had threatened to wreck the U.S.S. "Los Angeles" at Lakehurst several years before. Lt. Cmdr. Charles E. Rosendahl, the "Akron" commander, ordered the ground crew through a megaphone to drop their ropes.

Unable to hear Rosendahl's command, or distracted by the ship's rolling and pitching, the group including Edsall, Henton, and Cowart was slow in releasing their grip. The ship started to rise, lifting a number of the enlistees off the ground. Most of them let go close enough to the ground to avoid injury. Four men still held on. One, Lyford Walkup, let go approximately 25 feet from the ground, and suffered a broken arm. That left Edsall, Henton and Cowart hanging on as the ship rose higher and higher. Edsall and Henton gripped their toggles, while Cowart shimmied up the rope.

Aviation Carpenter's Mate 3rd Class Robert Edsall
falls to his death from 200 feet (Los Angeles Times,
May 12, 1932, Newspapers.com)

At approximately 200 feet, Edsall was the first to lose his grip, falling to his death. A few seconds and countless feet later, he was followed by the agile, acrobatic Henton. A witness aboard the airship was quoted as exclaiming "That boy smoked when he hit the ground!" Henton's impact was captured by newsreel cameras, and theatregoers in the next few days were not spared the sight of Henton hitting the ground, bouncing six feet into the air, and landing again, stirring up a cloud of dust and dirt in his final moment.

That left Bud Cowart, tangled in the landing ropes, who fashioned himself a seat by straddling the wooden toggle. Incredibly, Cowart was seen to remove his sailor cap and shove it in his pocket to avoid losing it. Cowart would later say that his experiences as a boy, climbing oil derricks back home, contributed to his survival, as he keep his cool by focusing his attention on the airship above him instead of the ground below.

On board the "Akron," Commander Rosendahl contemplated how best to rescue Cowart. Lowering him to the ground was considered the riskiest option. Firemen at the station had nets at the ready, but nobody knew from where or how high Cowart would come if he attempted to land in the net. Rosendahl briefly considered flying out over water and having Cowart let go, to be picked up by a nearby rescue boat, but that was also risky. Finally, it was decided to winch Cowart up into the ship. Unfortunately, the manila ropes like the one Cowart embraced were not attached to winches. They would have to attach the rope to a winch and draw it up gradually.

The rescue operation commenced as the ship cruised at 2,000 feet. Boatswain's Mate 1st Class Richard E. Deal volunteered to be lowered in a bosun's chair to assist Cowart, tying an extra line to the swaying trailrope he was holding onto. Slowly but surely, Cowart was winched up, and finally, after the hour-and-a-half ordeal, brought on board with the help of a boathook wielded by Chief Arthur Carlson.

Commander Rosendahl was the first to greet Seaman Cowart, asking him how he was. "I'm all right, but I'm hungry," he replied with a grin. (News accounts of the day claim his exact first words were "Gimme something to eat!") When asked by Rosendahl how he enjoyed his ride, he replied, "It was a real lilly-dilly!" Cowart's next request was for a rag to clean his hands, made greasy from a steel cable he'd brushed away during his "ride." Rosendahl would later recall, "his hands were covered with grease, but he wasn't going to get our airship dirty."

Cowart presumably enjoyed his trip much better from aboard ship, as the "Akron" cruised the area for the remainder of the afternoon. It must be noted this was not merely for his benefit. Giant rigid airships like the "Akron" took off and landed either in the early morning or late evening, when solar heat was at a minimum, to avoid the need to valve off precious helium. Nevertheless, some helium was let out before the "Akron" landed back at Camp Kearney at 6:50 p.m. Cowart's first statement to the press was short and to the point. "I hung on because I was ordered to hang on!"

A contemporary news report says that Bud's father, Marion Cowart, was notified of his son's rescue by telephone, having been summoned by a neighbor a mile away, since the Cowarts themselves had no phone. "Well, I'll be durned," Cowart is quoted as saying, "that Navy sure is a thorough going outfit!"

FILLING IN THE BLANKS

"Bud" Cowart became a bit of a celebrity in the days following the incident, his boyish grin and humble, "aw shucks" demeanor on display in the newsreels that captured so much of the drama. But he is today considered little more than a minor footnote in airship history. However, thanks to modern technology, social media, and the advent of archival websites, such as Newspapers.com and Ancestry, it's possible to fill in some of the blanks of his life before and after the 1932 incident.

Charles Melvin Cowart Jr. was born July 31, 1913 in Sand Springs, Oklahoma to Charles M. and Bessie Cowart. The elder Charles Cowart was a laborer for a local oil refinery. A 1976 Daily Oklahoman article reveals that Cowart's nickname was actually "Bub," given by his older brother Billy. Aside from the aforementioned AP report, the media reported Cowart's nickname as "Bud" and it stuck.

In 1932, "Bub"'s father stated that "staying with things he starts" had always been a trait of his son. "He's been in lots of scrapes and they never seemed to bother him a bit, and nerve? Why, anything he wanted, he always just stuck to it until he got it." In the same article, the elder Cowart revealed that the "Akron" incident wasn't his son's first escape from death, recalling a truck in which he and "Bub" were driving losing control on a hill. "I jumped, and almost broke my back, and although I yelled at Bub to jump, he stayed in the car." The truck overturned several times and came to rest in a ditch. "I expected the worst, but there Bub sat with a grin on his face, without a scratch."

It was in his youth, prior to his Navy service, that Cowart honed his boxing skills, a regular at the West Side Athletic Club in Tulsa, where he fought in the welterweight amateur class.

Cowart's first attempt to join the Navy, for which he dropped out of high school, was in February, 1931, but he was advised to wait a year. He hitch-hiked to Dallas, Texas, for his physical, with only $2.10 in his pocket, enlisting March 10, 1932, only two months before the "Akron"'s ill-fated landing.

Bub/Bud Cowart seems to have had an uneventful time in the U.S. Navy, and a low-key life after his service. However, the ordeal at Camp Kearney would not be his final encounter with the legendary Commander Rosendahl. After training, Cowart was assigned to the USS "West Virginia," whose skipper was none other "Rosie," the former airship captain. Rosendahl had not quickly forgotten the young seaman's heroism. In January, 1933, the 20-year-old sailor found himself in court in Long Beach, California, on a charge of public intoxication. Rosendahl again came to his rescue, telling the judge how he held onto the rope after watching his "buddies" drop to their deaths, adding that Cowart's "unparalleled display of courage" made him "worthy of consideration." "No doubt of that," replied Judge C.D. Wallace, who agreed to let Cowart off with a $10 fine.

On May 17, 1935, Bud married Ruby E. Gilstrip in Tulsa. They had a daughter, Sally, in 1937.

Cowart found himself in national news again in July 1936, having been treated at a Tulsa hospital for a stab wound in his left side. Bud, who had been brought in by his father, refused to discuss the circumstances of the stabbing with the press. One can only assume that the outcome could have been worse, however, and that Cowart had once again possibly cheated death.

In 1939, a radio program guide in the Montreal Gazette mentions that Cowart ("who tried to moor the ill-fated dirigible Akron at the time of the famous disaster"), will be initiated into the Order Of Adventurers on the CFCF show "Reading Adventure," along with Gertrude Lintz, original owner of the Ringling Bros. Circus's star gorilla Gargantua. There is no record to my knowledge whether Cowart actually appeared on the program in some manner.

The 1940 U.S. Census lists Charles, Ruby, and Sally Cowart as living in Ponca City, Oklahoma, where he is a welder for the Continental Oil Company. Living with the Cowarts are older brother Billy (William Harl) and his wife Adrah.

From there, the trail fizzles out. On March 1, 1960, the San Francisco Chief No. 2, a train bound from Bakersfield, California to Chicago, struck a two-trailer oil rig, causing an explosion that set three passenger coaches afire, killing approximately 30. An article in the Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City) mentions that Cowart and his wife, described as a former Tulsa couple living in Alameda, California, are among three Tulsans who survived (surprise!). It is stated that the Cowarts were returning to Tulsa to re-establish residency. The article does not reference Cowart's "Akron" ordeal.

Cowart was still living in Alameda in October, 1976, when Orbit Magazine, the weekly supplement to the Daily Oklahoman, tracked him down for an interview and a one-and-a-half page feature. Retired Admiral Charles E. Rosendahl (who died the following May at age 85) was also interviewed for the feature (the source of his quotes elsewhere in this article). The article focuses mainly on the "Akron" story, with little information on  his post-Navy or current exploits. It is, however, revealed that Cowart lost his voice to a throat ailment in 1970. "Speech comes difficult," the article says, "but he has developed eloquent gestures." The only photograph that accompanies the article shows 63-year-old Cowart hanging onto a rope, presumably demonstrating for the reporter how he did it 44 years before.

Charles M. "Bud" Cowart passed away October 1, 1978, in Alameda, California, aged 65. Ruby Cowart, who was divorced from Bud in 1967, passed away in Alameda six years later.

THE OTHER TWO

Nigel Merton Henton, age 19, of Fresno, California, was born May 31, 1913 to Ernest E. and Lula Henton. Nigel enlisted in the Navy in March, 1932, after graduating from Fresno Technical High School. A former employee of the Black Cat Battery Shop and W.G. Goss's soft drink stand in Fresno, Henton hoped to train in the Navy to become a pharmacist's mate.

On May 18, 1932, only a week after the Henton perished in the "Akron" incident, the airship passed over Fresno on a cruise along the San Joaquin Valley from Sunnyvale NAS. The Los Angeles Times reported that Mrs. Ernest E. (Lula) Henton, his mother, stayed inside her home as the airship passed directly over her home, refusing to view the dirigible. "I did not want to see it," Mrs. Henton said. "I could not make myself want to see it. I am not bitter about it, and I hold nothing against anyone or anything."

The Hentons suffered another tragedy 12 years later, when Nigel's little brother, PFC Theodore Henton, was reported killed in action in Germany. Theodore was also 19.

Nigel Henton's funeral was held May 16, 1932 at Stephens & Bean Chapel in Fresno, Rev. Robert D. Licklider officiating. Burial followed at Belmont Memorial Park.

Robert Edsall, age 20, of Elkhart, Indiana, enlisted in the Navy aviation division at South Bend on July 2, 1930, following his graduation from Elkhart High School. He was born in Mishawaka, Indiana, Sept. 2, 1911, to Jay J. and Lottie Edsall.

In high school, he was "yell leader" for three years, a cast member in the Junior Class play, and a member of several school organizations. After the "Akron" accident, his body was escorted home by his friend David Loose, with whom he had enlisted and had served since both were assigned to the Great Lakes Training School. His funeral was held at Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church on May 17, 1932, and he buried at Rice Cemetery in Elkhart.

Contemporary accounts made note of the letter Robert's mother had received only a couple of days before his death. Dated Mother's Day, the letter said in part: "Boy -- hope we do get to help moor the Akron! That's something to write home about!" He was last home on furlough the previous October.

Edsall made the local news in August, 1932, after the Navy rejected a proposal from Indiana Senator James E. Watson to award posthumous recognitions of valor to Edsall and fellow victim Nigel Henton. Watson made the appeal on the recommendation of the South Bend American Legion post. In the letter declaring the board's decision, Rear Admiral F.B. Upham stated: "In the opinion of the board, it has never been the policy of the Navy, and should not become the policy, to award medals to personnel merely because they have been involved in an accident [emphasis added]."

In an ironic twist, Henton and Edsall were not the only people to lose their lives in connection with the "Akron" in May, 1932. On May 19, the Los Angeles Times reported that the previous day, 18-year-old Stephen Robert Smith of Modesto died after falling 15 feet from a tree he was climbing to get a better view of the "Akron" as she flew over Stockton. Like Bud Cowart, Smith was an Oklahoma native.

POSTSCRIPT

At the time of the disaster that destroyed the "Akron" on April 4, 1933, killing 73 of its 76 crewmembers, her sister ship, ZRS-5, had been christened U.S.S. "Macon" for a month, and the ship made her first flight on April 23. The Navy had high hopes for the "Macon" following the loss of the "Akron," Indeed, "Macon" had a more productive career than her predecessor, with the Navy fine-tuning their use of the ship, like "Akron," as a "flying aircraft carrier." In October, 1933, the ship departed Lakehurst, NJ for her permanent assignment at Sunnyvale. While stationed on the West Coast, "Macon" participated with varying degrees of success in fleet training exercises.

On February 12, 1935, returning to Sunnyvale from maneuvers, "Macon" was caught in a storm off Point Sur. A wind shear tore away the upper tail fin of the ship (a result of faulty attachment to the airship frame's "rings") and the ship crashed into the ocean. Thanks to warmer weather conditions and a full complement of lifesaving equipment, only two of the ship's 83 crewmembers perished. With the loss of 4 out of the 5 rigid airships built for the U.S. Navy, the "Macon" disaster spelled the end of the program (the lone survivor, the German-built ZR-3 U.S.S. "Los Angeles," remained a "hangar queen" at Lakehurst until she was scrapped in 1940).

It was reported that "Macon" was to fly to Hawaii the following May, where an airship base was being planned. "Alternate history" buffs suggests having giant rigid airships on duty in Hawaii would have prevented the Pearl Harbor attack on Dec. 7, 1941. In truth, as advances were made in "heavier-than-air" aviation, the days of the giant "queens of the sky" were already numbered by the time of the "Macon" disaster, even as the LZ-129 "Hindenburg" neared completion in Germany. The Navy did have further success with the use of non-rigid "blimps," until the program was scrapped in 1962 (it was revived briefly some 20 years later with a one-ship "fleet").

In retrospect, despite the Navy's rather dismissive attitude in 1932, it should be obvious to anyone familiar with rigid airship handling procedures in that era, that it was strenuous, specialized work, risky and unpredictable.

It may not be too late to reconsider the posthumous honors Sen. Watson proposed for Robert Edsall and Nigel Henton in 1932, and to consider one for Bud Cowart, as well, for his courage. "Green" as the three sailors may have been, they were not "merely [personnel]...involved in an accident." They were young men who lost their lives while on active duty in the service of their country, and should be respected accordingly. At the very least, they are worthy of having their lives remembered.

They are worthy of consideration.