Passionate about aviation, Thomas F. Hamilton was only 16 years old when he designed and built his first airplane. A few years later, and still a teenager, he founded the Hamilton Aero Manufacturing Co. in Milwaukee, Wisconsin—a business that was the genesis of a noteworthy bloodline. Although his first aircraft designs were unremarkable, the high-school dropout found early success as a pioneer in the design, development, and manufacture of metal propellers.
In 1927, Hamilton retained James S. McDonnell to participate in the design of what came to be the acclaimed Hamilton Metalplane. This is the same McDonnell who, in 1939, founded McDonnell Aircraft—which merged in 1967 with Douglas Aircraft to form the aerospace giant McDonnell Douglas.
The corrugated skin, thick wings, and slab-sided fuselage of the Metalplane give the impression that the airplane might be a single-engine version of the Ford Tri-Motor, but it is not a Ford. These design features likely resulted from McDonnell’s work for the Stout Metal Airplane Division of the Ford Motor Co., which designed and built the iconic Tri-Motor.
Metalplanes were identified mostly with Northwest Airways, the progenitor of Northwest Airlines. With a fleet of nine aircraft, it was the largest user of these small airliners.
Alaska’s first airline, Wien Alaska Airways, received its first of two Metalplanes in 1929—the first all-metal airplane to operate in Alaska and the first of any kind to make a round trip between Alaska and Asia, piloted by company founder and pioneer aviator Noel Wien. The company received its second Hamilton in 1939 after the airplane had been used in the filming of Howard Hawks’ Only Angels Have Wings, starring Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Rita Hayworth.
The first and fastest nonstop transcontinental airline service was provided by a Metalplane on floats. No kidding. This is when Isthmian Airways offered 30-minute, north-south passenger flights across the Panama Canal Zone between the Atlantic and the Pacific.
Hamilton’s company became a division of Boeing Aircraft in 1929 but was soon dissolved, spelling the end of Metalplane production after only (approximately) 29 had been built. Young Hamilton, however, had retained his propeller business and merged it in 1930 with a competitor, Standard Steel Propeller, to form Hamilton Standard Propeller Corp., which became the world’s largest manufacturer of propellers. During World War II alone, “Ham Standard” produced more than 500,000 of them.
Beyond a few one-of-a-kind Metalplanes, two models found success: the 450-horsepower H–45 and the 525-horsepower H–47, essentially identical airplanes except for their engines. The aircraft shown on these pages, NC-879H, is a 1929 H–47, sole survivor of the Metalplane legacy. (There reportedly is another in Alaska that consists only of a fuselage and a pair of wings.)
This airplane was first delivered on Edo floats to Provincial Air Service in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, and never served as an airliner. After passing through the hands of numerous owners over the years, it ended up discarded in Alaska, ignominiously suffering the ravages of clime and time. It eventually was discovered in 1951 by Northwest Airlines Capt. Harry McKee. With the support of his airline and a band of volunteers, the airplane was purchased and taken to Minneapolis for restoration as a nonflying exhibit. Escalating expenses and complications caused enthusiasm for the project to wane, and the incomplete project was placed in storage.
Eventually the airplane was purchased by Jack Lysdale in 1972 and taken to Fleming Field in South Saint Paul, Minnesota. He and a group of craftsmen completed an airworthy restoration, trimmed in Northwest Airways markings, so meticulous that it earned numerous awards, including the Experimental Aircraft Association’s coveted Silver Age Championship Trophy in 1976. Lysdale placed the Metalplane in storage in 1978 but kept it in airworthy condition.
Jack Lysdale passed away in 1992, and his family eventually arranged to have the airplane sold by the upscale Barrett-Jackson Collector Car Auction in 2010. The seven-day televised event in Scottsdale, Arizona, also offered for sale John Dillinger’s 1930 Ford Model A getaway car.
This auction caught the attention of Howard Wright, a devoted aviation enthusiast who is particularly enamored with classic airplanes, especially if they float. He already had a 1929 Travel Air S–6000B and a de Havilland DHC–2 Beaver—both with floats and wheels—that he operates under the banner of Pole Pass Airways, which is based at East Sound Airport on Orcas Island, the largest of Washington’s San Juan Islands.
Why is he so enthusiastic about floats? “Simple,” he said. “In addition to the pure and unadulterated joy that seaplane flying provides, floats get you to places you can’t get to on wheels.”
Wright was the successful bidder and purchased the H–47 as a landplane. He was determined, however, to locate the airplane’s original 1929 Edo 6400 floats. An extensive search ultimately found them in a Fairbanks, Alaska, junkyard in early 2011—but the seller demanded an outrageous price. “They’re the only floats in the world for a Metalplane,” he said smugly. Wright’s representative replied, “Yeah? Well, we’ve got the only airplane in the world that can use them.” The price quickly became reasonable. Although the floats had been outdoors and exposed to the harsh Alaskan climate for 30 years, Kenmore Air in Washington was able to restore them.
Wright loves to share his Metalplane by flying this piece of aviation history to fly-ins and airshows, where it never fails to attract attention. He purchased it to fly, not to collect dust in a museum.
The original H–47 was powered by a 525-horsepower Pratt & Whitney R-1690 Hornet, but parts for this engine are no longer available. NC-879H now has a supercharged Pratt & Whitney R-1340 Wasp that delivers up to 600 horsepower, depending on the propeller; it’s the same radial engine that powers the North American AT–6 Texan. The two-blade, ground-adjustable propeller was made by—you guessed it—Hamilton. It currently is set to low pitch to optimize takeoff and climb performance.
The airplane seats eight—two in front and six in the cabin. Wright, however, has removed the three leather-trimmed wicker seats from the left side of the cabin. “People are larger and heavier today than when the airplane was built in 1929,” he said. On floats, the airplane has a maximum-allowable gross weight of 6,375 pounds and a useful load of 1,694 pounds. On wheels, it grosses out at 5,750 pounds and has a useful load of 1,839.
The cockpit isn’t roomy, either. The right seat folds up against the right sidewall so there is room to crawl into the left seat. You get into the right seat by swinging the seat down and into position, standing on it while sticking your head out of the rooftop hatch, and then lowering yourself onto the seat. Pilots usually find themselves cozily rubbing shoulders with each other.
Refueling the two 70-gallon wing tanks requires climbing through the rooftop hatch and onto the wings, not much fun in foul weather.
The airplane does not have an elevator-trim indicator. Positioning the trim for takeoff involves turning the small crank—above, behind, and between the pilots on the ceiling bulkhead—from one limit to the other while counting the number of cranks (usually 24). You then crank half that amount to position the adjustable horizontal stabilizer in the middle position. There are no wing flaps.
When headed into the wind and ready for takeoff, you raise the water rudders using a cable on the left cockpit sidewall and hold the elevator fully aft while advancing the throttle to 1,900 rpm and 32 inches manifold pressure. Gradually release back-pressure as the big Metalplane rises onto the step, then adjust the elevator slightly to search for and maintain the sweet spot.
The large floatplane lifts off at about 70 mph and climbs at 80 mph. Cruise speed is about 110 mph on floats and about 125 mph on wheels. The control wheels resemble the steering wheel of an automobile and are not particularly responsive, especially in roll. It takes frequent and substantial aileron input to keep the airplane on an even keel. One reason for this workout is that substituting floats for wheels adds considerable forward side area, which decreases directional stability. (When substituting floats for wheels on most other airplanes, a ventral fin is added below the aft fuselage to compensate for this.) This slight instability makes it challenging to coordinate aileron and rudder during turn entry and recovery. Leading with rudder seems to help tame the slip-skid ball.
I initially had some difficulty judging drift over the water during a landing approach, because the forward view is obscured by three of the radial engine’s nine cylinders. The approach is made at 80 mph, and the Metalplane slides onto the water at 65 mph.
Docking this airplane without assistance would be difficult. In the time it takes to wriggle out of the cockpit, crawl through the cabin, exit the aft cabin door, and jump onto the left float, the airplane could easily have drifted away from the dock.
There is nothing graceful about this large, rugged workhorse, and it seems more demanding of the pilot than other large singles of its day. It is not difficult to fly, but it is difficult to fly well. It is also loud, both inside and out. The Metalplane is nevertheless gratifying to fly because of the way in which it transports you back in time to that romantic era of pioneer aviation.
The author wishes to thank Howard Wright for his trust and generosity, and Noel Merrill Wien and Kenmore Air instructor Alistair McPherson for their patience while teaching him to fly the Metalplane.
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