“The Time Is And Has Been When Man is in Need of Wings”: Read All About It in the Los Angeles Express, 23 May 1873, Part Five

by Paul R. Spitzzeri

Deep into the Boom of the 1880s, which transformed greater Los Angeles in many ways, the eccentric “sage of Laurel Canyon,” Frederick M. Shaw, continued to promote his concept of an artificial harbor, with his concept declared in a letter to the editor of the Los Angeles Tribune of 17 April 1887 to be such “that will place this vicinity on a par with any portion of the coast as far as the accommodation of large ships in all kinds of weather is concerned.”

Though he’d previously talked of spending more than a decade engaged in surveying the California coast, Shaw now stated that one was needed of the ocean floor, currents, sand deposits from inland rivers and more. Crucial was ensuring that the “superstructure” of the facility was firmly embedded in the sea floor and he claimed he’d consulted such notable figures as Viscount de Lesseps, builder of the Suez Canal, and James B. Eads, known for his building of Union Army gunboats during the Civil War, jetties to protect New Orleans’ port and the bridge at St. Louis spanning the Mississippi River.

He further insisted that these men “have been taken into the confidence of the originator” while he reviewed the 13 years of work for his idea, including caissons up to 150 feet tall “to break the force of the heaviest seas,” and that two miles of a breakwater would leave a square mile “to accommodate what business we are likely to have for some time.” Notably, the caissons were to be filled with brea (local tar) and broken rock so that, even if the steel skin wore away, the interior material would be “practically indestructible.”

Shaw concluded that it would be simple to float the caissons to their position, fill them with this combination and then lowered “as two men would lower a trunk by its handles.” These would be 15 feet apart to allow sufficient water flow while also mitigating any deposits of sand or other material, as well to allow for small craft to enter. He asserted “this arrangement is more secure than a continuous wall would be, and breaks up and neutralizes the effect of a heavy sea.”

In the Los Angeles Herald of 14 July, Shaw announced that “papers were signed some days ago, that obligates the writer, within eighteen months, to have constructed sufficient works to accommodate the largest ships, in any season and under all circumstances, and to complete the job within five years.” Moreover, he claimed that “engineers of the highest ability have determined that the plans are according to the best principles of mechanics,” so all that was left was to proceed with the plans.

The confident creator maintained that the concept “is so simple and straightforward that a child could calculate its approximate termination” and he reiterated the basic aspect of the artificial harbor and then pronounced,

The year 1887 is propitious for carrying forward enterprises of this kind. The spirit of the argonauts [of the Gold Rush of nearly four decades prior] is reviving, and under such auspices, work that to ordinary estimation appears herculean in its proportions, dwindles down to the commonplace. It is only a matter of detail: So many cartloads of material; so many tons of iron, steel, rock, cement or asphaltum, and so many feet of lumber. The rest is straight work.

In the meantime, the 19 May issue of the Los Angeles Times included ruminations on “Aerostatics and Things,” in which Shaw remarked that “the writer has had the gift of prescience if not of prophecy, and in the exercise of that gift has foretold the very improvements now taking place in and about Los Angeles.” What lacked, however, was “cooperative work by the people themselves in the matter of wholesale sanitation” if “the full benefits of the glorious heritage that has been vouchsafed to us” were to be realized.

Such matters could not be left to doctors because “the science of hygiene [must be] a public educational trust!” Otherwise, “how else are we to realize the magnificent possibilities of our climate and surroundings?” Commenting, as many did, that “nature has been lavish in her gifts on this coast” and “it is the place of art to so improve them,” Shaw called upon modern people to apply “the same self-restraint and severe asceticism” of the Greeks and their “models of physical and mental perfection.” The problem was “no school is organized that teaches this” and he reminded readers that “hygienic and industrial education, in its power to symmetrically develop the human race, is only in its ABC stage.”

He then commented,

There is no reasonable doubt that men will be able to fly, when they sufficiently master the science of life to take advantage of all its possibilities. When the science of electrical repulsion or negative gravity is sufficiently familiar there is no more difficulty or danger in aerial navigation than in the sailing of the seas. But man must be subjected to the severest mental and physical training to develop this power.

Not quite a month later, Shaw submitted another essay the proposition that “in his investigations into electric railway construction, [I] found that it was quite possible at a rate of speed of 100 miles per hour, to safely cross a gap with a railway train without a bridge,” though it was another question whether it would “ever be advisable or necessary to use this airy bridge.” The “engineer” added that “it is evident that railway trains, as well as human beings, can safely fly under proper conditions” and he insisted that “this has been demonstrated by actual trial.”

Yet, he continued, “the problem of flying by man himself has not been so satisfactorily proven,” but “that will be done in time” because “all that is needed is the will and a sufficient courage to enable the human birds to launch themselves in air.” Shaw cited Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s 1871 work, The Coming Race, as an example that “foretells the existence of flying men and women, though this was a work of fiction. Still, the Laurel Canyon philosopher went on,

Now, I know of no place as favorable as this for putting the theory into practice. It can be done safely on the plains near the ocean, and the new fledged birds can alight in the water . . . A pair of wings . . . could be constructed so as to swing as the sword swings in its scabbard, until needed; then by inserting the arms into the sheaths, the wings can be put in motion, just the same [as] are used to propel one in the water when swimming. To obtain a momentum sufficient to carry one off the ground, a slide or incline might have to be used at first. But the human bird would soon develop speed enough in running to make the start without the incline.

As with the bicycle, which was emerging into quite a craze locally, such training for people to fly would come by stages, Shaw avowed, and “human birds” had to engage in that rigorous training mentioned above “before any attempts at flying will be likely to succeed.” His remarkable essay ended with the remark that “how often have we heard some ambitious person exclaim, ‘Oh, how I wish I could fly!’ That is a perfectly laudable desire, and sooner or later it will be realized.”

A more prosaic reference to Shaw in 1887 was when, as reported by the Times of 9 July, there were “a number of California pioneers [who] met at the [City] Council chamber yesterday for the purpose of organizing a society for pioneers,” these being white men, almost all of the more than thirty of them having come during the Gold Rush, most in 1849. Among them was Shaw, whose date of arrival was given as 5 September. The Los Angeles Society of Pioneers was headed by Judge Benjamin S. Eaton, with newspaper publisher James J. Ayers as vice-president and members including Francis Baker, George E. Long, Maurice Kremer, Elijah Moulton, Jacob Weil, Cyrus Lyons, Andrew J. King, William W. Robinson and Albert F. Kercheval, among other notable Angelenos.

With the coming of 1888, Shaw returned to his long-standing interest in hygienics, opining on the “Correct Regimen of Patients” in a letter published in the Herald of 19 February. He began by observing that “life is largely a mechanical problem” as he addressed the matter of diet and regimen, but also commented that “in any diseased condition there is a corresponding brain lobe that acts for the organ affected.” He then asserted that it was a matter of diet in dealing with organ problems and also of treating the body like a machine for its repair.

The “physician,” who claimed degrees from several universities, propounded that,

Very often the trouble arises from some abnormal habit or improper food or drink, and more particularly of seasoning. Nine-tenths of the chronic diseases are brought on by this means. Salt, pepper, mustard, sugar, vinegar . . . are among the condiments that must be discarded in case of disease . . . Then there is tea, coffee, tobacco and beer, or wine and spirits, that are to be avoided generally.

Shaw informed readers that “the only way to recovery is through a careful husbandry of the remaining vital force until nature has a chance to heal” and claimed that doctors “know that the patient must be kept from the use of objectional things, or die.” He counseled that for the true treatment of disease “the plainest food with no animal fat, and very little are the conditions required in many cases, and these requirements are absolute!” Instead, and this hearkens back to his insanity hearing five years prior, “fruit, nuts and vegetables are nature[‘]s remedies,” an vegetarianism was one of the issues raised in his near-commitment to the insane asylum.

Adopting other means practiced by so-called naturopaths, who abhorred medicine and surgery, Shaw also advocated “the proper use of the bath and electricity” because “there is too much tendency to suggest remedies that are worse than useless” or lead to situations in which “the patient dies from these gratuitous suggestions.” Lastly, he advised that “anxiety is a dangerous element to deal with, if any hope is to be had” in seeking cures for persons suffering from disease.

A couple of other interesting letters of note from 1888 involved “An Appeal to the Women” and the often occurring matter of “State Division.” For the former, appearing in the Los Angeles Express of 11 October, Shaw called for married women to be able to obtain land by homesteading or pre-emption, as he offered the view that,

There are millions of women in the United States that would come here with their husbands (poor things) and make a living for them on five, ten or twenty acres of land in the mountains [his favored locale] if the land laws were so modified as to admit of it. There are millions of acres that could be had for the taking that would give healthy homes and a living, but your male biped disdains the idea of taking land unless he can cut it up eventually and peddle it out in corner lots.

What were needed were those women who, if permitted, would settle in the coast ranges of mountains and “get down to real work,” rather than live in cities and towns, which he earlier prophesied were heading for destruction. Averring that “common sense is not too bountifully distributed, especially among the males—it is a rare commodity,” the Laurel Canyon denizen concluded that “the other sex is better fixed in that respect,” so “it would be well to broaden her field of usefulness by giving married women a chance to homestead or pre-empt land.”

Regarding the division of California, this was a question that was clear “if it were possible to divert the public mind of the influence of professional politicians.” Bringing in his concept of the artificial harbor, Shaw insisted that “it is an undoubted fact known to seamen that an artificial port is needed for Los Angeles.” The shift in economic power from the north (the mining of days of yore) to the south through “the discovery of the fruit-growing bonanza,” was a core argument to the idea of creating a new state in the south.

Moreover, asserted Shaw, “Hazard’s Pavilion,” an entertainment venue across from Central, or Sixth-Street, Park, now Pershing Square, “is a good enough State House for ten years to come,” while it was an easy enough matter in his mind to adapt state laws and the Constitution. But, he concluded, “it would be difficult to show that we shall get no artificial harbor commensurate with our needs without State division. This reason alone is sufficient.”

Shaw, however, continued to have difficulty with neighbors, including his turning the tables on the question of an insanity accusation, when he did this with E.C. Watson in late February, though doctors found Watson to be sane and a judge freed him accordingly. In mid-August, Shaw was taken before another jurist after being charged with threatening Watson and was held to a six-month bond at $500 to keep the peace.

As the Eighties came to a close and the boom went bust, the question of the artificial harbor went by the wayside and Shaw resumed his pontificating about human flight. In the 22 April 1890 issue of the Express, he proudly noted that “I am a pioneer in more senses than one, and I claim the right to be heard” after there was a report of a central California indigenous man who purportedly died recently at the age of 150. Because if was said that the man “lived naturally and cleanly” including abstaining from alcohol and tobacco and bathing each day, Shaw continued, “I claim that mankind may live a 1000 years, comfortably if they live properly.” Laughable as this sounds, mark the recent claims of tech entrepreneur Bryan Johnson!

Shaw then pivoted to his claim that “the art of flying, which I have discovered, is just as natural.” Adding that “there has been a time in the life of man where he used wings,” he went on to inform readers that “the wings have been devised, and as old as I am, I am not afraid to use them.” Besides, he offered, “in less than ten years they will be in as common use as the bicycle” and that more creatures flew than walked so “it is the simplest mode of progression of the two.” Striking a paranoid tone, the essayist ended with the warning that it was skeptics who were most likely “to steal the idea, if possible.”

A little over two weeks later, in the 8 May edition of the paper, Shaw amplified his argument and stated that he’d spent 17 years “to perfect my device—of wings” and that he was inspired by a jaunt in South America gazing at condors in the Andes Mountains. He believed that “the time is and has been when man is in need of wings” and he answered those who argued (obviously) of its dangers by citing the courage of Livingstone and Stanley in Africa—as if these were related analogs! Certainly, there would be those killed, as with “any fast mode of travel, but

The wings will be used to carry letters and other desirable commodities, intelligently to those that need them, whether on land or sea . . . How will the human birds alight safety at sea, on rocks, in trees, on land? The same as other birds do it—by dexterity! There will have to be unusual appliances for alighting on the decks of ships or steamers. Such as sails arranged to catch the “air-ro-naughts.” It may be a little difficult to start again from the ship, but that is not impossible.

Aside from the risk of losing what he accounted to be $150 pairs of wings, Shaw reiterated the need for ascetic training, as food may be limited on long journeys. To his fevered imagination, “how supremely above the usual run of pleasures these aerial flights must be to those who can appreciate the infinite, both of space and time,” while lovers would certainly “enjoy these aerial courtships amazingly.”

In a 15 April piece about the virtues of terraced agriculture in the Cahuenga (Santa Monica) Mountains, Shaw ended with an ode to human flight:

Then why should not the human mind

New means of locomotion find?

Why not think on—till by and by

The problem’s solved, and we shall fly!

Flights of fancy, to be sure, were Shaw’s specialty and we’ll return for more tomorrow with part six so join us for that as we navigate the Nineties with the Laurel Canyon eccentric!