1922-1923: Seasonal operators struggle after flying boat tragedies
A series of accidents mar the winter seasons of 1922 and 1923 in South Florida, highlighting the still precarious state of commercial air travel
All’s well that ends well for the New York
On Friday the 13th of January 1922, Aeromarine Airways’ flying boat New York vanished en route from Miami to Bimini, sparking a frantic 72-hour search by air and sea. Onboard were three Shriners—Moses F. Kahn, H.C. Crenshaw, and Clinton Leopold—along with pilot Wallace Culbertson and mechanician Smith.
Just ten miles from Bimini, the plane’s propeller failed, forcing a dramatic sea landing near Great Isaacs. Stranded but unharmed, the crew and passengers were cared for at the lighthouse. Radio communications were unavailable, resulting in a tense, all-out 72 hour search for the lost aircraft. It was only after crew members were able to patch and caulk an old boat with soap that they were able to render it sufficiently seaworthy to reach Bimini and send word that all were safe.
Search planes, yachts, and even the Miami Marine Company joined the hunt while the plane remained missing. Relief swept through Miami the following Monday, January 16th, when the Aeromarine flagship Columbus returned with the missing men, greeted by cheering crowds at the docks.
Among the members of Miami’s aviation fraternity who took part in the search and rescue operations were Aeromarine pilot Ed Musick, later to become world famous as the first pilot to cross the Pacific (for Pan American Airways) and Harry Rogers, former Aero Limited pilot who returned to Miami for the winter season of 1922 as Chief Pilot for Miami Airways Company.
At left: Miami Herald, January 16, 1922
Tragedy engulfs the Miss Miami
On March 22, 1922, the skies over the Gulf Stream turned treacherous for the Miss Miami, a converted HS2L flying boat operated by Miami Airways. What began as a routine flight from Miami to Bimini ended in catastrophe when the aircraft’s propeller shattered just 15 miles from its destination, forcing 27-year-old pilot Robert Moore to make an emergency water landing in the churning currents.
Aboard were five passengers: two married couples from Kansas City and a woman from Memphis. As the plane hit the water, two were thrown overboard and vanished beneath the waves. The hull, pierced by debris from the broken propeller, began to flood. The survivors clung to the overturned pontoon as the sea grew rougher and the hours stretched into days.
A harrowing ordeal
Moore, blistered by sun and salt, fought to keep the remaining passengers alive. He helped three climb atop the wreckage, but one by one, the women died in his arms. Their bodies were carried for hours before Moore, in anguish, released them to the sea. The final passenger, a man Moore never named, sensed his own end approaching. In a haunting moment, he offered Moore $2,500 tucked in his trousers—his last worldly possession. Moore refused, declaring, “This is not a question of money but of life and death,” and cast the trousers into the ocean.
Rescue at dusk
After 52 hours adrift, Moore was spotted by Captain Charles Wachsmuth of the tanker William Greene, who saw a lone figure waving desperately from the wreckage. Moore was found lashed to the plane with ropes around his neck and waist, barely conscious. “I’m sorry to put you fellows to so much trouble,” he murmured before collapsing.
Onboard, he was cared for through the night by Mrs. J. Stewart Williams, a passenger who bathed his blistered face and soothed his delirium. Moore mistook her for his mother and recounted the entire ordeal in fragments of fevered memory.
Echoes and aftermath
The tragedy sparked outrage and investigation. Two nearby fishing boats reportedly ignored the downed aircraft—suspected rum runners wary of Revenue Agents. The failure of Bimini’s wireless station delayed rescue efforts, prompting calls for mandatory radio equipment on all aircraft.
The Miss Miami, once a symbol of progress—having made the first flight from Miami to New York in 1920—was now a cautionary tale. Miami Airways suspended operations for the season but vowed to return with better-equipped planes.
Moore was released from Riverview Hospital on April 2. His survival was a testament to endurance, but the loss of five lives cast a long shadow over the promise of early aviation.
At right (top): Miami Herald, March 23, 1922
At right (bottom): Miami Herald, March 26, 1922
Four dead after Aeromarine Columbus makes forced landing in Florida straits
Pleasure jaunt turns tragic
A year to the day of the scare involving the Aeromarine flying boat New York, on January 13, 1923, the Aeromarine Columbus, en route from Key West to Havana, was forced to make a perilous emergency landing in heavy seas just 25 miles north of Cuba. The aircraft, crippled by a clogged fuel line in its starboard motor, could not sustain flight on one engine. Pilot W.E. Miller aimed for a nearby ferryboat, the Henry M. Flagler, but a towering wave slammed the plane mid-descent, smashing its bow and flooding the cabin.
Among the ten aboard were New York sugar magnate Edwin F. Atkins Jr., his wife, their two young sons—Edwin III, 5, and David, 3—and their governess, Miss Grace McDonald. The family had reunited in Key West just hours earlier, planning a winter holiday in Cuba. Mrs. Atkins had traveled from Boston with the children; her husband had flown in from Havana to meet them.
As the wrecked plane bobbed in the waves, Miller ordered everyone atop the fuselage. In the chaos, the children were lost—likely swept away or fatally injured by the impact. Moments later, Mr. Atkins and Miss McDonald were also claimed by the sea, despite desperate efforts to secure them.
Flagler crew braves punishing swells to rescue survivors
The Flagler’s crew, led by Captain John Albury, launched a lifeboat through punishing swells. After multiple attempts, they rescued the five survivors: Mrs. Atkins, her nurse Miss Julia Haverty, New York banker Otto Abraham, Mechanician Harold Thompson, and Pilot Miller himself. All were battered, dazed, and chilled, but alive.
The survivors were taken to Casa Marina in Key West. Mrs. Atkins, though devastated, displayed extraordinary composure in the face of unspeakable loss.
The end of a perfect record
The Columbus crash marked the first fatal accident in Aeromarine Airways’ three-and-a-half years of operation, during which over 20,000 passengers had flown safely. The Atkins family, owners of vast sugar plantations across Cuba and partners in major U.S. firms, were deeply mourned by associates and friends, including Thomas E. Ready, their Miami representative, who had spoken with Mr. Atkins just hours before the flight.
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