Memoir

Witnessing One of the Last Flights of a Historic Airship

Huge, slow moving ships that are no longer in our skies

Some of those in my generation witnessed a quite impressive airship, not as large as the Zeppelin from yesteryear but much larger than the small blimps used for advertising today.

First sighting

Our first apartment was on 91st Street near Fort Hamilton during the mid-1940s and mid-1950s. I remember the trolley cars on the avenue that took us to visit the dentist and Santa Claus at Macy’s, horse-drawn carts with fruit or blocks of ice, and the “Whip” ride that came on the back of a truck and cost 5 cents.

One of the most memorable — even though I never rode in one — was the airship. Not the small blimps we see today, but the big ones that were still in the skies into the 1950s.

My first encounter with seeing one was the day my mother hurried to the window and called me over to look. The year had to be the late 1940s, as we were still in our first apartment. My mother was not the type to get excited over much, but she was obviously in a heightened emotional state that day.

As we leaned out onto the fire escape, we could see a visible dot in the sky, which proceeded to get larger, accompanied by a humming noise. The dot very slowly turned, revealing itself to be a low-flying, cigar-shaped figure.

Tears were flowing from my mother’s eyes, which I did not understand at the time. Then it seemed almost silent for a few minutes as it passed by the buildings on the avenue, continued in a perfectly level, straight line, and eventually went out of sight.

Then she told me it was a zeppelin. That was the first time I had ever heard that word.

I was to learn years later that it wasn’t a Graf Zeppelin; they were removed from service after the Hindenburg Disaster (the Zeppelins had the amenities of today’s cruise ships and made many flights before this tragedy occurred).

It was a pretty impressive airship of some sort — not a small blimp, but a very long, slow-moving ship the military continued using through the 1950s. There were several of them left at that time and still used to transport military personnel.

There was something majestic and magical about it as it moved purposefully through the sky and then disappeared out of sight. The experience of it — the sight, the sound, the almost fear of something so large, flying so low, near our apartment, and my mother becoming emotional — never left me.

One more sighting

Before they were gone, I was lucky enough to see another one years later, around the early 1950s, while attending Mark Twain Junior High School in Coney Island.

As I was sneaking over to the deli to buy a salami sandwich with my lunch money, I would need to take a path through the park, and that’s when I noticed bunches of people standing around looking toward the sky.

Curious, I stopped to look, too, and there it was — a small dot in the sky, like the one my mother and I had seen when I was younger, moving toward us, almost unrecognizable at first, except for the low hum we could hear from where we stood.

Knowing I may be late getting back to class, I was glued to the spot and waited until it made its slow turn, then moved out of sight. Still as fascinated as I was the first time, the rest of the day I was giddy with excitement and couldn’t wait to tell my mother, even though she’d scold me for not eating lunch at the school cafeteria.

A piece of history

I didn’t understand at the time that I was looking at something historical — something that would be gone as the era of the airship was coming to an end. Well, for public transportation, anyway, and who knows, they may come back as they’ve found ways to make them safer.

On the rare occasion that I see one of the smaller blimps that are generally used for advertising, I still get this emotional feeling deep down as I remember the rest of my mother’s story, which she withheld until my Coney Island sighting.

She had lived through a World War with the fear of being attacked, and to her, an airship could mean disaster as they were used during the war to drop bombs. Recognizing the hum of the airship made her run to the window, but knowing she’d be safe maybe gave her some kind of closure.

Words can barely describe the awesomeness of the airship. Those few minutes in my lifetime that I was privileged to experience these wonderful events twice will stay in my mind, and I will treasure them forever.

Update: since I wrote this I’ve discovered a new-style flying airship. This is exciting and may be the answer to bringing them back.

Prompt: Coolest Thing I’ve Ever Seen Flying Through the Sky

Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed my story, here is another one you may like. To be added to my mailing list, click here. Feel free to reply to any of my stories. Happy reading!