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Horsham's
empty skies
We are so used to noise these days that it just gets
taken for granted, whether it is caused by traffic on
the roads or traffic in the skies. Aeroplanes fly
overhead with monotonous regularity, either on their
way to Gatwick, or taking off from it. And if you take
the country road from Rusper to Newdigate, just past
the house where the woman who loved Dalmatians used to
live (in fact she loved them so much that she painted
her whole house white with black spots all over it:
remember?), you enter a zone where you can absolutely
guarantee that a plane will roar only inches,
seemingly, above the roof of your car.
But it was not always like this. Back in 1913 the
sight of an aeroplane in the skies over Horsham was
such a rare occurrence that it merited several column
inches in the local paper. On Saturday 21st August,
for example, everyone got terribly excited when a
bi-plane droned overhead, on its way from Hendon to
the south coast. It was flying at a 'moderate'
altitude, and the whole town got a fine view. It
turned out later that the pilot, a Mr Pashley, lost
his way in a heat haze south of Horsham, and decided
the sensible thing to do was to land in a field at
Littlehampton, so he could ask a passer-by the way to
Shoreham aerodrome, his eventual destination. He got
there in the end, and on his way home later that day
the town had a second treat when he passed over again,
this time heading north.
That same year, in October, Lady Shelley gave a talk
to the local Women's Institute, and took as her theme
the future of aviation. This was obviously something
she had a bee in her bonnet about, and she claimed to
be much disturbed by the apparent apathy of the
British towards the subject. The French and the
Germans, for example, were much more go-ahead.
She made a number of predictions, most of which have
come to pass – with one disastrous exception. She
thought that within the next ten years it would take
less than 24 hours to fly across the Atlantic, and
there would also be a regular passenger service to and
from the Continent. She felt that everyone's
perspectives would be broadened, and there would be
increased communications between nations. So far, so
good. But her view that airships would be in common
use for taking people to work and handling the postal
service was a little less sound – and where she really
came unstuck was in her prediction that all this
increased communication would result in greater
understanding and fewer wars. Within twelve months
World War I had broken out, to be followed 23 years
later by World War II.
Nevertheless she generally had the right idea, and she
would have been pleased that at least one of her
fellow Horshamites did not suffer from aviation
apathy. William Elliott was the second son of T H Elliott, 'esteemed and well-known in the town', who
lived at 12, The Carfax and had an 'English and
foreign fruiterer's and greengrocer's' at 7, West
Street. Another member of the family was the future
Canon Elliott, who became King's Chaplain and a famous
religious broadcaster (Newsletter February 2004).
William was clearly a man of some style and substance,
and only ten months after learning to fly he was
running Shoreham Flying School with his partner BH
England, the son of CS England from Hall Lands,
Slinfold.
On 21st April 1914 they decided to call in and see the
family, and created a sensation by so doing. In fact
they were the very first people to land a plane within
the town's boundaries, and no less than 1,000 people
flocked to Chesworth meadow, by the side of the
private drive that runs to Chesworth House, to gape at
their wonderful flying machine. It was noted that a Mr
Barber and his companion Miss Trehawke Davies, in
August 1911, had landed on the 'golf ground' (their
plane, named Valkyrie, had a damaged wing), and in the
same month and year Mr Valentine had also landed at
End's Place, Warnham – but as far as Horsham was
concerned these two young men were the heroes of the
hour.
The flight from Shoreham had taken just twenty minutes
and this - their first cross-coutry outing - had been
pretty uneventful, and they had only hit one air
pocket – which made them drop 200 feet. One was more
than enough, surely? Their plane was a Henry Farmon,
with a Gnome engine with a 50 hp capacity, and they
had built it themselves; they had a couple more back
on the coast.
They stayed in Horsham overnight, and the townsfolk
took care to watch over the plane, just in case any
militant suffragettes (who clearly were a worry at the
time) took it into their heads to mount a sabotage
attack. So Messrs Coomber and Hogsflesh (two good old
Horsham names) stood guard all through the night,
which turned out to be uneventful, and in the morning
Jackson Bros brought down enough petrol to see them
back safely. Horsham could not do enough for them.
They made an early morning start, and took off at 6.30
am. Folk were out again, and Superintendant Goldring
had to step in and order everyone on to the driveway
after one foolish fellow just escaped being
decapitated by a wing by diving hurriedly into the
grass.
The event had such an impact that Bon Marche in Queen
Street quickly got out a batch of celebratory post
cards, price 1d, and I am sure they sold like hot
cakes. It is good to see that Tony Wales, in Horsham
in Old Picture Postcards volume 2, one in his
excellent series of books containing past images of
the town, replicates this card – although the picture,
as reproduced here, is a little murky.
William Elliott sent his father a telegram as soon as
he got to Shoreham, to let the family know all was
well, and as they had now got the taste for
cross-county flying it was not long before they were
back in Horsham. In June that same year they landed on
Mr Bryant's Chesworth field again ('a pretty
descent'), before which Elliott, now classed as 'a
well known aviator', performed 'evolutions' at between
800-1,000 feet over the town, much to everyone's
delight. In fact the crowd got a bit carried away, and
everyone who had been at Horsham football ground at
the time tore across to Chesworth, trampling down
valuable meadow grass on the way.
This met with a very sniffy reaction from the West
Sussex County Times, which held that Elliott must have
been 'very disappointed' by his thoughtless fans (no
doubt the farmer felt much the same). The paper became
terribly pompous, and ended its report by declaring
that 'trespassing militates against frequent visits,
and those anxious to be near the machine will in
future take more care with other peoples' property'.
Quite right too – but I wonder if William Elliott and
his companion lost too much sleep over the matter.
Chaps who could casually dismiss sudden drops of 200
feet in a 50 hp bi-plane, and performed evolutions
over Horsham with sang froid, were unlikely to be too
much troubled over a bit of grass. |
