Most everyone knows of Germany’s Zeppelin the Hindenburg and its infamous destruction by fire in Lakehurst, New Jersey in 1937. But few know that the United States also had an airship fleet of dirigibles at the same time. And one of its members, the USS Akron, met a tragic fate as well, just four years earlier. It crashed into the Atlantic Ocean during a violent storm and killed 73 of 76 on board, more than Hindenburg. What is the Akron’s forgotten story?
The airship began construction in November 1929 by the Goodyear-Zeppelin Company in Akron, Ohio. The design of the Akron, and its sister ship the Macon, were based on the plans of engineer Karl Arnstein. It was a 110 ton, 785-foot-long airship, just 20 feet shorter than the Hindenburg. Unlike the Hindenburg, the USS Akron and its sister ship were filled with nonflammable helium. First Lady Lou Hoover, wife of President Herbert Hoover, christened the rigid airship ZRS-4 “Akron” in its hanger in August 1931.
A month later, on September 23rd, more than 150,000 people gathered at Akron’s Airport to witness a remarkable spectacle. The USS Akron lifted off for the first time and made its maiden flight, with Lt. Cmdr. Charles Rosendahl in command. More than 100 passengers, including the Secretary of the Navy, were given a spectacular bird’s-eye view of Ohio.
With the USS Akron, the U.S. resumed world leadership in lighter-than-air craft. The goal was to demonstrate the value of airships, not only for the military, but for commerce as well. In October, she flew next with her crew of 60 to the Naval Air Station at Lakehurst, N.J. where she was formally commissioned into the U.S. Navy.
By the time the U.S entered World War I in 1917, Germany had already proven the value of rigid airships. Their Zeppelins were notorious for dropping bombs on London at night, from an altitude higher than British airplanes could reach. The U.S. Navy took note and began a program that would eventually commission four rigid airships. The USS Shenandoah became the first dirigible to fly across the U.S. and back in October 1924. Its sister ship the USS Los Angeles made a record 331 flights.
Then a decade later came the more advanced USS Akron and USS Macon.
Over the weeks that followed her commissioning, the Akron amassed 300 hours aloft in a series of flights along the east coast and Mississippi and Ohio River valleys. Front-page newspaper stories and radio news reports kept Americans aware of their every flight. The demonstration flights showed the new airship to the American public, and to congressional and government VIPs. The ship’s range was impressive as it was able to stay aloft for several days and fly thousands of miles without landing.
In May 1932, the Akron made a cross-country flight from Lakehurst to California. She reached Camp Kearny and attempted to moor. Unfortunately, neither trained ground handlers nor specialized mooring equipment was present yet. By the time she reached the airfield, the heat of the sun had warmed her helium, causing lift. Plus the airship was lighter having used 40 tons of fuel during her crossing. The Akron became uncontrollable and began to lift up again! Most seamen on the mooring crew let go their lines. Three did not and were carried aloft. Two lost their grip and fell to their death. The third managed to cling to his line and was hoisted on board Akron.
Akron and her sistership Macon (ZRS-5, still under construction) were regarded as “flying aircraft carriers.” Akron’s squadron of Curtiss Sparrowhawk biplanes were added in July 1932. The Akron for the first time tested the “trapeze” skyhook apparatus for the handling of aircraft while airborne. The pilots carried out historic take offs and “landings” from hangers on the underside of the Akron. That summer, she was given her full complement of three Curtiss Sparrowhawks.
During the first months of 1933, Akron made several long distance flights including trips to Cuba and the Panama Canal Zone. Akron also made several shorter publicity flights, including an appearance over the U.S. Capitol at the inauguration of President Franklin Roosevelt on March 4, 1933.
Just eighteen months after its maiden voyage, the airship would meet its tragic end.
The USS Akron departed Lakehurst on the evening of 3 April 1933 on a mission to calibrate its radio detection-finding equipment. The ship was under the command of Frank McCord. Amongst the 76 people on board were several VIPs including Rear Admiral William Moffett, Chief of the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics, and Cmdr. Frederick Berry, commanding officer of the Lakehurst Naval Air Station.
As she proceeded on her way, Akron encountered stormy weather, which only grew more severe as she passed over Barnegat Lighthouse at 10:00 PM. Around 12:30 AM off the New Jersey coast on 4 April 1933, wind gusts of terrific force suddenly struck the airship unmercifully. The ship was hit by a series of strong updrafts, then violent downdrafts. The helpless airship rose and then fell sharply in the strong winds. The captain ordered an immediate ascent and the nose of the airship rose.
While attempting to climb, another downdraft befell them and the ship’s tail violently struck the ocean, damaging all the rear fins. With its control surfaces destroyed, the Akron was lost. The rest of the ship crashed down into the churning seas of the ocean. With its superstructure damaged, its helium vented quickly into the clouds. The captain gave the order – All hands abandon ship! The USS Akron did not stay afloat for long and the metal airship quickly sank into the frigid waters of the Atlantic. There were no lifejackets or rafts on board.
The German motorship Phoebus saw lights descending toward the ocean and altered course to investigate, thinking it was a plane crash. Amongst the debris, Phoebus’ men picked up Lt. Cmdr. Herbert Wiley, Akron’s executive officer, unconscious, plus three more men: Chief Radioman Robert Copeland, Boatswain’s Mate Richard Deal, and Aviation Metalsmith Moody Ervin. Despite attempts to resuscitate him, Chief Copeland never regained consciousness and died on board Phoebus.
No one else amongst the remained 76 seamen were rescued. The German sailors did not know that their ship had chanced upon the crash of a massive airship until Lt. Cmdr. Wiley regained consciousness a half hour later. Phoebus then combed the ocean for over five hours in a futile search for more survivors. None were found.
The Coast Guard destroyer Tucker, arrived at dawn and took on board the three Akron survivors and the body of Chief Copeland. The cruiser Portland, destroyer Cole, and Coast Guard cutter Mojave, as well as two Coast Guard planes joined the search efforts that day. Aside from some minor floating wreckage, not a single body was found. Without lifejackets or rafts, the rest of the ship’s passengers and crew had either drowned during the crash into the sea or from exposure to the frigid ocean water.
The cause of the crash is generally attributed to the ship’s commander.
McCord may have relied on incorrect altitude readings from the ships altimeter, rendered inaccurate by the low pressure in the storm. Commander McCord may have thought his ship was higher than it really was, but should have known low barometric pressure would affect the altimeter. It’s equally possibly that McCord inadvertently flew his ship’s tail into the water. With the nose of the ship raised sharply to climb, Akron’s tail may have pivoted into the ocean.
One of the three survivors, Akron executive officer Lt. Cmdr. Wiley, incredibly went on to lead the USS Macon’s crew. Less than three weeks later, the Macon flew for its maiden voyage. Two years later, the Macon would incredibly have its own disaster. Off the California coast in February 1935, excessive winds ripped off its upper fin. This caused it to descend slowly, landing gently in the waters off California. This time, the Macon was equipped with life jackets and rafts — items not onboard the Akron — only two sailors died in that incident.
The sinking of both the Akron and Macon ended the Navy’s fleet of flying aircraft carriers, but not all dirigibles. During World War II, the Navy operated scouting airships in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Mediterranean. Akron’s disaster however spelled the beginning of the end for U.S. rigid airships and the program was scuttled in 1961.
Today, investigators have been able to scour the final resting places of the Akron in the Atlantic and the Macon in the Pacific in the decades since they tragically went down.
President Franklin Roosevelt commented at the time: “The loss of the Akron with its crew of gallant officers and men is a national disaster. I grieve with the nation and especially with the wives and families of the men who were lost. Ships can be replaced, but our nation can ill afford to lose such men upholding to the end the finest traditions of the United States Navy.”