This was the headline in the New York Post in early August, 1938, when Douglas Corrigan received a ticker tape parade down Broadway. In that Depression-era climate he was celebrated for taking off from a fog-shrouded airfield in Brooklyn, supposedly heading for California, and flying the wrong way to Ireland.
Everyone knew the jaunty Texas-born aviator had disobeyed authorities who refused to let him fly across the Atlantic in his modified, patched-together wreck of a plane; that his claim of heavy clouds confusing him and low cockpit light causing him to read his compass backwards, was a fib. And everyone loved him for it.
“Wrong Way Corrigan” made its way into the lexicon as an affectionate label for people, especially athletes, who take off in the wrong direction.
What only a few in this region remember is that Corrigan had once lived in Norfolk while barnstorming – flying from place to place to offer sightseeing flights – around the country. Or that thousands turned out to greet him after he flew here on August 30th that year. The parade down Granby Street, under a blizzard of confetti from office windows, and the official greeting at the courthouse added up to what some called the largest public spectacle the city had ever seen. This newspaper called his reception “tumultuous.”
The event is related in the current issue of Sargeant’s Chronicles, the history-packed newsletter of the Norfolk Public Library. The Library’s Sargeant Memorial Room has several photos of the historic visit, including shots of the huge crowd on Granby.
Corrigan flew into Glen Rock Airport, a small airfield near the present Janaf Shopping Center, in his 1929 Curtis Robin monoplane. Thousands crowded the airfield, hoping to catch a glimpse of the arrival.
Here’s the Pilot’s account: “As he sailed in from the East, the crowd went wild. And from then on it was every man for himself. They stormed through the policemen assigned to hold back the throng. The frenzied mob made its way to the plane, scores seeking to shake his hand, secure an autograph or convey their best wishes.”
The crowd refused to budge for the official motorcade, beseeching Corrigan to pose for pictures and sign autographs – which he did, to everyone’s delight. The motorcade finally made its way to the Oceanfront, to Ocean View and then Norfolk, where the parade began at 5 p.m. Another mob scene greeted him there. As he went through the city, perched on the back of a convertible, “a paper snowstorm such as Norfolk had never seen before” descended on him from office windows.
Corrigan was given a key to the city, apparently a big one because, in brief remarks at the courthouse, he said, “From the looks of this key this must be the biggest town I’ve been in yet.”
But he was upset when he noticed that a young girl might have been hurt in the stampeding crowd. At the Monticello Hotel, he told officials he wouldn’t go further with the events in store for him until they located the girl and made sure she was OK. They did, but it shows how wild the scene was. “I feel responsible for that crowd out there,” he said.
That night he charmed an adoring audience at the classy Nansemond Hotel in Ocean View. “You know, I wonder, myself, how I made that flight,” he said. “I really was a little mistaken in my reading of the compass.” He chuckled, and so did everyone there. He added that people laughed when they saw him pass, half wondering if he was going the right way.
“I think I’ll have to go out and get lost in a couple of places, just to show ‘em that I can.”
The next morning he was off again for New York, this time quite sure of his heading.
Photo: Douglas “Wrong Way” Corrigan waves to an adoring throng during his visit to Norfolk. Sargeant Memorial Room, Norfolk Public Library.
