THE SCHNEIDER TROPHY

Aviation

The Coupe d'Aviation Maritime Jacques Schneider, or Schneider Trophy, celebrates its 90th anniversary this year, as Actuarius reports

irst held in 1913, Joseph Schneider’s intent

Ffor his eponymous cup (more popularly, and accurately, referred to as a ‘trophy’) was that it should encourage the development of reliable, safe, waterborne aircraft. Before the dark days of World War 1, after which there existed a more formal land based aviation network equipped by a mature and competent industry, waterborne aircraft were seen as a more practical basis for commercial aviation. After 1918 the contest was therefore inherently outdated, but the Schneider Trophy continued before being won in perpetuity by Great Britain, 90 years ago this year. One of the rules of the contest was that if a country won three times within five years, it would bring the event to a close. A move from annual to biennial competitions after 1926 meant this equated to three consecutive wins. Although always competed for as nations, the entrants were private ventures until the mid 20s, when escalating costs led to it becoming a government-funded matter of national prestige. By the close, Italy and Britain had established themselves as the front-runners through sustained subsidised development and official military High Speed Flights. Sidney Webster won 1927’s contest for Britain, held in Venice, with the tiny Napier Lion-powered Supermarine S5. R J Mitchell, the aircraft’s designer, considered the Lion to have reached the end of its distinguished competition career, so he created the S6 to house a proposed new engine built by Rolls Royce – known simply as the R.

“Despite a lack of international opposition and the wider worries of living through the depression, the Schneider Trophy still held its fascination for the general public. Huge numbers congregated in the Portsmouth area the following day, hoping to witness history being made”

The Supermarine S6

Achieving the power required to take the trophy a second time in succession proved difficult with the new supercharged V12. Eventually the minimum running time at rated power was achieved on 27th July, less than six weeks before race day. 1929 saw the British efforts vindicated with a win by the effortlessly rakish Richard Waghorn in one of the S6s. This left the 1931 event to secure possession of the cup forever, but there was a slight problem. Hit by the Great Depression and having faced sustained opposition to the High Speed Flight from the RAF's upper echelons, the British government withdrew funding.

Cometh the hour, cometh the woman. Lady Fanny Lucy Houston was born into unremarkable circumstances, but as a 16-year-old chorus girl started on a lucrative career of being the mistress or wife of several wealthy older men, who left her substantial amounts of money on their passing. Even taking the most charitable view, stories of her ‘chasing’ Robert Houston and tearing up his will, demanding he re-write it to leave her more, are difficult to ignore. Even more problematic are her admiration of Hitler and Mussolini and her wish to install a similar leader in Britain. However, Lucy Houston was a multi-faceted woman and it would be unjust not also to mention her more palatable activities. She gave support to the Suffragette movement, sent morale boosting gifts to Tommies in France during the Great War, created a rest home for nurses serving on the Western Front (for which she was awarded a DBE) and bankrolled the British 1931 Schneider Trophy effort.

Lady Fanny Houston

The effortlessly rakish Richard Waghorn

“Two years after that final victory, Rolls Royce fired up the first Merlin, an engine informed by the development of the R. Then in 1936 Mitchell’s Spitfire, again a design drawing on the high-speed hinterland of the Schneider Trophy, used it to climb into the heavens for the first time and ultimately on to an immortality forged in war”

To understand the 1931 event we must first look back to the start of 1930. The Royal Aero Club (RAeC) set out the rules and conditions in January of that year, requiring a deposit of 5,000 francs per aircraft. The fee was later changed to 20,000 francs per machine, after both France and Italy had already paid up. This led to a dispute only resolved at the end of the year with an acceptance of the revised cost. Meanwhile, development wasn’t going well in any country. The RAF initially declined to release the aircraft or pilots for the event, France and Italy battled with major technical issues and the lone semi-private American entry failed to secure funds. All of which led to a petition for the contest to be put back a year, something America had sportingly done in 1924 but that Britain now refused to do.

As September 1931 approached, it looked like only Britain would make the start. Three aircraft were to be entered by the High Speed Flight with, in the event of no-one else turning up, a selfimposed minimum average speed of 340 mph over the course being set as a target for victory. This was an increase of 11 mph over the 1929 winning speed and would prevent the trophy being retained by a simple ‘fly over’. Lt. J.N. Boothman, F.W. Long and L.S. Snaith were selected as pilots.

Over in Italy, the dramatically beautiful Macchi MC.72 was suffering from an undiagnosed inlet tract backfire under load. It would later go on to set an outright air speed record that would stand for five years. The French entry promised much but delivered not enough. Thinly spread resources and the chaotic lead up to the event meant France wouldn’t even get a promising design into the air. America’s one-man powerhouse Lt. Al Williams

The blue and silver paint scheme providing the aeronautical equivalent of high cheekbones

succeeded in getting some support for his beautiful but ineffective, and now elderly, Mercury racer, but he was relying on the projected postponement.

Race Day arrived: Saturday 12th September, 1931. The prevailing good weather broke only hours before the start, triggering a postponement. Despite a lack of international opposition and the wider worries of living through the depression, the Schneider Trophy still held its fascination for the general public. Huge numbers congregated in the Portsmouth area the following day, hoping to witness history being made.

Lt. J.N. Boothman finally fired up Supermarine S6B ‘S1595’ at one pm and took off cleanly, before alighting and sitting on the water for two minutes. This was an anachronistic condition for the event that had never been removed. Another take-off, then a turn and dive to flash past the start line at Ryde Pier with the throttle pushed to the firewall. The S6B was quite large for a racer, but tiny by any other standards. Stylistically it was the aeronautical equivalent of high cheekbones, perfectly accentuated by the blue and silver paint scheme. Combine that with the roar of a Rolls Royce R flat out and you would have to be made of stone not to feel a thrill at the thought of it firing up, even today. Although technically brilliant, Supermarine’s racehorse was designed to a simple principle: the minimum amount of aircraft to contain pilot, engine and fuel while maintaining the minimum degree of controllability, and the maximum amount of radiator to keep the engine

A Supermarine S6 at Goodwood Revival

cool. Mitchell himself referred to her as “the flying radiator”.

Seven laps later it was all over, with an average speed of 340.08 mph, sufficient to claim the win and bring down the curtain on an unparalleled era of aeronautical development. By contrast, the first Schneider Trophy in 1913 had been won at an average speed of 45.75 mph.

You may be left wondering if the effort and risk had any relevance beyond Boy’s Own derring-do and national pride. And whether the S6A at Solent Sky Museum in Southampton, or Boothman’s victorious aircraft, displayed with the trophy itself in the Science Museum in London, are no more than the remnants of a historical transport cul-de-sac. Well, two years after that final victory, Rolls Royce fired up the first Merlin, an engine informed by the development of the R. Then in 1936 Mitchell’s Spitfire, again a design drawing on the high-speed hinterland of the Schneider Trophy, used it to climb into the heavens for the first time and ultimately on to an immortality forged in war. As my father once told me, “The Battle of Waterloo may or may not have been won on the playing fields of Eton, but the Battle of Britain was certainly won over the Solent.” n

The Schneider Trophy itself

SARTORIAL

Photo Shoot: Stanley Biggs (p44) • Fox Brothers & Co (p56) • Camden Watch Co (p62) • Malloch’s (p65) • Lounge Wear (p69) • Gregory Farmer (p74) • Grey Fox Column (p78)