"Wrongway Corrigan". How many times have I heard somebody say those two words after hearing my last name? Countless times, by triplicate. Typically, I respond with a nod and a smile because of three things: I love being recognized as a Corrigan, I love being American/Irish-Catholic, and I love being stubbornly different. "Wrongway" was all of that and more.
Let's start with the genesis of "Wrongway Corrigan." His name was Douglas Groce Corrigan. Born in 1907 in Galveston, Texas. His father was a construction engineer and his mother a teacher. They moved alot when Douglas was young. The father was restless. A male Corrigan trait it seems. At some point along young Douglas's life, he was exposed to then hooked on aviation. He first soloed in Los Angeles on March 25,1926. It was love at first flight.
Douglas continued to fly his rented by the hour highwing monoplane Curtiss JN-4D Jenny, while supporting himself working as a factory worker for Ryan Aeronautical Company in San Diego. About that time a tall, handsome and young aviator, Charles A. Lindbergh, walked into Ryan Aeronautical for the express purpose of building a plane for a transatlantic flight. Not any flight, a transatlantic flight that had never been achieved. Ryan agreed to build the plane for Charles. Guess who worked on the custom built plane? Douglas Corrigan.
On 20 May 1927, Lindbergh, took off from New York City bound for Paris, France, 3500 nautical miles away, in a Ryan M1. This soon to be famous plane was a single engine parasol-wing monoplane with one open seat, named, "The Spirit of St. Louis." 33 hours later, Lindbergh lands his "Spirit" in Le Bourget field before 150,000 riotous Parisians. The first transatlantic non-government plane to cross the mighty and broad Atlantic Ocean from the United States to Europe. A new age in aviation and in the world was born that day.
Meanwhile back in the Ryan Aeronautical factory...upon the news of Lindbergh's crossing, Douglas and his fellow "grease monkeys" were in ecstasy. They were a part of history of the advancement of the world. Can you imagine for a moment that feeling? Wow!! Douglas was deeply effected.
From that momentous day, Douglas was hell bent on doing something like Lindbergh. Didn't know how. Didn't have the money. Didn't have the authority. But this was America. Douglas summoned up all he had: in one word, it was courage. In the late
20's in the USA, that is all one had to survive.
For the next 11 years, Douglas toiled in the shadows of others while he dreamed. Goethe, the German poet, wrote, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." Douglas dreamed of doing what Lindbergh achieved. He was solitary in his quest. However, his dream was a bit different from Lindbergh's. Douglas's dream was of an Atlantic Ocean crossing to his beloved native land, Ireland, not France.
After countless attempts by Douglas to gain formal flight clearance from the federal "onlygetinthewaycrats" to fly across the Atlantic from New York to Dublin, the authorities continuously denied his flight plan. Why? Because he was of Irish descent? Maybe. Remember, this was a country that posted notices everywhere in the late 19th and early 20th Century, "Help Wanted. No Irish Need Apply." They didn't take him seriously. Big mistake, don't do that to an Irishman!
Douglas persevered amidst it all and did it his way. He set his clever plan in motion. He bought a plane for $325. A second-hand single-engine Curtis Robin J-1 monoplane(see masthead of this blog for picture of this plane). Named it "Sunshine." He modified it for his dream. Installed a bigger 165hp engine. Strapped on more fuel tanks. All the while whispering his mantra, "Columbus took a chance, so why not me?"
As part of his divine plan, Douglas secured an approved flight plan from the clueless authorities. It was from New York City to Los Angeles not Dublin. On July 8, 1938, Douglas in "Sunshine" took off in NYC in heavy fog. Somewhere in all that fog, Douglas lost his bearings, allegedly. Went east instead of west. 28 hours later, with gas leaking from his tanks into the open cockpit, Douglas, soon to be named "Wrongway", landed miraculously in Dublin, his homeland. With only 2 boxes of fig bars, 1 quart of water, 2 chocolate bars and 320 gallons of fuel, Douglas defied all odds and traveled 3,000 miles over a nasty sea and arrived in Ireland in "Sunshine". Safely on the tarmac in Dublin, he climbed out of his "Rube Goldberg" contraption and said, "Just got in from New York. Where am I?" Clever fool, he knew exactly where he was. That's audacity!!
The aftermath of this classic misdirection is epic: he was arrested, he was freed, he was celebrated in a ticker-tape parade in the canyons of heroes in NYC (larger they say than Lindbergh's parade), a book and a movie were made of his "wrongway" escapade. But through it all humble Douglas maintained till the day he died that the reason he landed in Dublin was because his compass was stuck.
I dedicate this blog to my alter-ego and my masthead, Douglas "Wrongway" Corrigan. Are we related? Very remotely, I believe. I sure hope we have the same genes. Who wouldn't want to claim kinfolk to this one-of-a-kind American hero.
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