Frank Monroe Hawks bibliography

Frank Monroe Hawks (March 28, 1897 - August 23, 1938) was a Lieutenant Commander in World War I and a record holding aviator who was killed in an air crash.

  • Time magazine; April 10, 1930; Smart from a business, useful from a scientific viewpoint are the publicity stunts of Capt. Frank Hawks, superintendent of aviation for Texas Co. Last June he set the coast-to-coast record in two swoops of his Lockheed Air Express. Last week he set out (with special permission from the Department of Commerce) to cross the continent in a cabin glider towed at the end of a 300-ft. rope behind a power plane. First day he was towed 400 mi., from San Diego to Tucson, with a stop at Yuma and Phoenix. At such way stations he unhooked his "car"' from its "locomotive" and coasted to earth, demonstrating the possibility of air '"trains."
  • Time magazine; October 20, 1930; "Fast Frank Hawks. Captain Frank Monroe Hawks, air publicist for The Texas Company, last week flew the 90 mi. from Philadelphia to New York in 20 min.—an unofficial record. In the past fortnight he also: flew Detroit to Manhattan (483 mi.) in 2 hr. 41 min.; Boston to Manhattan (190 mi.) in 53 minutes.
  • New York Times; July 19, 1931; Frank Hawks, Takes the Continent in His Stride.
  • July 27, 1931; Not to cement international relations, not to advance the cause of commercial aviation, not for money or glory, James Goodwin Hall, War pilot, flew last week from Long Island to Havana in 23 min. less than Captain Frank Hawks's record, and back in 8 min. more than the Hawks' record. His cause: to arouse interest in "The Crusaders," anti-Prohibition organization of which he is Manhattan chieftain. His plane, a fast Lockheed Altair painted yellow, blue & white, bears on its side the shield of the Crusaders with the legend "Help End Prohibition." Pilot Hall, wealthy broker, landed at Havana's Columbia Field by mistake, then hopped over to Curtiss Field where a crowd awaited him and where William Pawley, president of Curtiss Aviation Co. of Cuba, handed him a cocktail as he stepped from the cockpit. He promptly ordered another, rested, flew back to Long Island to organize a national tour of flying Crusaders.
  • Time magazine; April 18, 1932; Stocky, grinning Capt. Frank Monroe Hawks, famed publicity flyer, holder of nearly all informal city-to-city speed records in the United States and Europe, was not grinning one day last week when attendants at the Worcester, Massachusetts, airport pulled him from beneath his crashed Travel Air "mystery plane" Texaco 13. Day before he had hopped from Detroit (in 3 hours 5 minutes). lectured the Worcester Boy Scouts on the necessity of developing foolproof planes, but had delayed his departure until the next morning because of a soggy field. An escort plane had nosed up when it landed just ahead of Capt. Hawks. After attempting to take off from a short dirt road which cut diagonally across the airport, he headed his low-wing monoplane down the field, less than 700 ft. in length. Oozy ground sucked at the wheels, kept him from attaining the 70 m. p. h. required to zoom off. Toward the end of the runway, going about 50 m. p. h., the ship bounced off a low mound, cut through heavy undergrowth, somersaulted over a stone wall. Hawks cut the motor in time, saved himself from cremation. Capt. Hawks's nose and jaw were fractured, his face badly battered, several of his big, white teeth knocked out. He lay unconscious in the hospital for hours. Said Harvard Medical School's famed plastic surgeon, Dr. Varaztad Hovhannes Kazanjian: "I do not think his speech will be affected. The operation for restoring his face should leave scarcely a scar." Capt. Hawks's good friend Will Rogers wired: "Sure glad nothing broke but your jaw. That will keep you still for a while. If I broke my jaw, I could still wire gags. What's the matter with you anyhow; are you getting ... brittle?"
  • Washington Post; August 3, 1933; Frank Hawks Flying East From Canada.
  • Time magazine; September 11, 1933; Up from Chicago's Curtis-Wright-Reynolds Airport at 2:02 a. m. one morning last week shot Lieut.-Commander Frank Hawks in a big all-metal Northrup mono- plane, powered by a 700 h. p. Wright engine, the first 14-cylinder, two-row radial engine in commercial use. At 4:22 p.m. a day later he set his plane down on the same field, climbed stiffly out to the cheers of opening day spectators at the Chicago Daily News-sponsored International Air Races. ''I'm not a bit tired," said he, despite the fact that he had just flown 4,500 mi.—from Chicago to Los Angeles to Seattle and back to Chicago—in flying time of 24 hr., 25 min. Stunts. Speedster Hawks's flight gave the Air Races audience something to think about, but most of the sensations in store for them were visceral rather than cerebral. Lieutenant Tito Falconi, young Ital- ian stunter who last fortnight broke his own world's endurance record for upside-down flying with a 3 hr., 8 min. flight from St. Louis to Chicago, did a topsy-turvy climbing bank and "dead stick'' dive. Major Ernst Udet, famed German War ace, sent his Flamingo teetering crazily across the field, on the third try neatly snatched a handkerchief off the ground with a wing tip. Johnny Miller looped an autogiro at 1,000 ft.
  • Time magazine; July 19, 1937; Amelia Earhart was born 39 years ago in Atchison, Kansas. Her father was a lawyer and railway claim agent. She went east to study at Columbia University, then west to be with her parents, who had moved to Los Angeles. In California. Amelia saw many more airplanes than in Kansas. The idea of flying excited her. Famed Captain Frank Hawks took her up for her first flight. In 1918 she made her first solo, after ten hours of instruction. Two years later she set a woman's altitude record of 14,000 ft.
  • Lima News, Lima, Ohio, August 24, 1938, "Obituary"
  • New York Times, New York, August 24, 1938, "Frank Hawk dies as plane falls."
  • Washington Post; August 24, 1938; East Aurora, New York, August 23, 1938; Frank Hawks Killed In Fiery Plane Crash
    Was in Small Sporting Plane. Companion Critically Hurt. Frank Hawks, Speed Flier, Is Killed in Crash Near Buffalo. His Companion Injured as Plane Burns After Hitting Wire. Frank Hawks, who rode the winds to world-wide fame as a speed pilot, made his last flight tonight at the controls of a small sport plane which tangled in electric wires and crashed in flames.
  • Time magazine; September 5, 1938; When the Connecticut Nutmeg reached its readers last week, it carried an enthusiastic boost for a stubby "flivver" biplane by illustrious Frank Hawks, pacemaker to U. S. commercial aviation. For his Nutmeg contribution he had been promised a year's subscription to the paper. "Fool-proof," wrote Frank Hawks of the Gwinn "Aircar" behind which for the last year he had been putting all his reputation and energy. "It will not spin and it will not stall. ... With only an hour or two of instruction any average person (even the intelligentsia) can fly our ship. A development that should go down in history as the greatest aviation contribution since the advent of the Wright Brothers." But Frank Hawks will not get his year's subscription: he had taken his last flight, suffered his final crash. Nearly a year ago, short, sturdy, smile-flashing Frank Hawks forswore his 20 years of headlong, rough-&-tumble aviation, became vice president of the Gwinn Company, and shuttled around Eastern airports showing what the Gwinn airplane could do. But even in such a head-over-heels endorsement as his Nutmeg contribution, Hawks had felt constrained to set down one big but. "Birds," he reminded the Nutmeg's readers, "are the only ones who never fail to make a perfect landing." At 41, after two decades of flying army Jennies, daredevilish barnstorming, and pushing swift racers to more than 200 flying records coast-to-coast and here-to-there in the U. S. and Europe, Frank Hawks had learned a thing or two about landings. He had cracked many a ship in those 20 years. One in 1921 had cost him $200, one last year, $100,000. Such mishaps he took with a grin. "If you can walk away from it," he used to say, "it's a good landing." Once or twice Frank Hawks was unable to walk away—one crash in 1932 put him in the hospital for months and filled his famous smile with store teeth; in another he somersaulted off a line of overhead wires, landed upside down. Overhead wires were Frank Hawks's pet hate. "They ought to bury 'em all," he used to growl. Ever since 1929 Frank Hawks had been aviation's best pal and severest critic. Then he was flying for Texaco, and every push he gave aviation meant bigger gas and oil sales. Flying coast-to-coast and point-to-point faster than men had traveled such distances before, he used to crow: "That's the way the airlines could fly this route if they'd take that outside plumbing off their ships." Recent years have seen most of Frank Hawks's speed records fall to Howard Hughes, but they have also seen the "outside plumbing" disappear from commercial aviation. By 1935, when Frank Hawks quit flying for Texaco, the 200-mile-an-hour transport flying he predicted had been approached. Last year, Hawks joined Buffalo Engineer Joseph Gwinn in the Aircar venture. The two-place, closed-cabin Gwinn Aircar drives like an automobile with wings, a steerable nosewheel preventing ground loops or nosing over. Capable of low-speed (50 m.p.h.) landings and takeoffs in small areas because of its trim, 24-foot wing span, it cruises at 123 miles an hour, costs $5,000. Hawks knew that with sales volume this price could come down. He envisioned the snug Aircar as every man's airplane, affectionately called it his polliwog. Last week, Frank Hawks shuttled to East Aurora, New York to show off his polliwog to a prospect, Sportsman J. Hazard Campbell. He landed neatly on the polo field in a nearby estate at about 5 p.m., climbed out, chatted awhile with Prospect Campbell and a cluster of friends. Presently he and Campbell took off smartly, cleared a fence, went atilt between two tall trees, and passed from sight. Then there was a rending crash, a smear of flame, silence. Half a mile the fearful group raced from the polo field. From the crackling wreck they pulled Frank Hawks; from beneath a burning wing, Prospect Campbell, both fatally hurt. The ship that could not stub its toe aground had tripped on overhead telephone wires.