Reflections from Hammondsport

Visiting Hammondsport was like having a refreshing spa treatment. The town’s patriotic charm got us right in the feels, as we got rocked in the cradle of aviation.

The Coolest Small Town in America

At the southern tip of Lake Keuka lies Hammondsport, crowned the Coolest Small Town in America in 2012 (and they could probably vie for the title every year), no doubt a source of pride for the 600 or so residents of this quaint hamlet in western New York.

Facing west on Shethar, one of the streets lined with Hometown Heroes.

Hammond’s Port

When John Shethar owned the tract of land that is now Hammondsport, the village had been known as Pleasant Valley, sometimes called Cold Spring Valley, but after Lazarus Hammond bought the land in 1810, the town was eventually incorporated in his name.

The right Reverend Bostick had a hunch this area was a good place to plant grapes, and it turns out his hunch aged well, the site becoming the U.S. Bonded Winery No. 1, and today, the winery capital of New York.

Lua Andrews was one of the lucky gals who grew up here, among the beautiful woodlands and glens. So deeply did she love this spot on earth, and as an amateur artist and musician, appreciate the harmony of its lush landscape, that she named her son after it.

Glenn Hammond Curtiss

No relation to Lazarus Hammond, but a living, breathing award of gratitude to the glens that captured the heart and artistic visions of his mother.

Had you been born around 1880, you would have said in 1900, watch that man. He’s going places. People in his hometown liked him. After his father died, when Glenn was about five, he went about town with a screwdriver, asking merchants and homeowners if they had anything that needed fixing. The man of the house at an early age, he took care of his little sister, Rutha, who had become deaf from meningitis. He was competitive, too. The invention of the bicycle had allowed people to “move up” from four hooves to two wheels. He found like-minded men and they all raced against each other for the title of fastest cyclist. Glenn won and won and won again. He was strong, and he built good bikes. Because everyone loves a winner, everyone wanted a bike like Glenn Curtiss’. And voila! A business! Curtiss Bicycles, Hammondsport, New York.

More things we learned from the Curtiss Museum

Lobby of the Curtiss Museum

Technology moved fast, but Glenn kept pace. He didn’t invent the motorcycle, but he bought a V-8 engine and mounted it on his bicycle. He set a speed record with it in 1907. 136 miles an hour. “The fastest man on earth,” they called him.

Glenn met the most beautiful woman ever, Lena Pearl Neff, a local gal, and asked her parents for her hand in marriage. Her mother wasn’t sure, but her father could tell. He’s going places.

Business was good, and despite personal tragedies, including the death of their first son at 11 months, he and Lena carried on. Together. He was curious and smart. He solved problems. He made things work. After his first flight in a powered balloon, he said, “I think I can make it go faster.”

He also cared deeply about people. It is, therefore, no surprise that his business grew. Everybody liked Glenn. Everybody, that is, except Orville and Wilbur. They did not like the competition as the world raced to be the first to build an aeroplane that would carry people. Even the French were nicer to Glenn Curtiss than the Wright boys of Ohio. They were smug with their wing-warping idea and interconnected rudder. They’d found a way to steer a glider and accused him of patent infringement.

Warping wings? He could do better than that. He made ailerons. But those Wrights ran crying to a judge and put Glenn out of business for a time. Around 300 employees out of work. That’s when Henry Ford stepped in. “Let me know when you need me,” he offered. He disliked those boys from Ohio. Ford told him to make the controls work independently (not interconnected) and funded the legal team to fight the potential monopoly from an overly-broad patent.

All U.S. patents were invalidated during WWI, and Curtiss-built aircraft became the only U.S. aircraft to see service in the war.

The Wright Brothers deserve all the accolades and respect for their contributions to aviation. But imagine being Glenn Curtiss, living in those times. It seems there’s a lesson here: Don’t be greedy. Ironic karma will get you.