Anonymous ID: ff0638 Sept. 11, 2018, 1:50 p.m. No.2979329   ๐Ÿ—„๏ธ.is ๐Ÿ”—kun   >>9380 >>9417 >>9500

>>2978400 LB

>https://thebreakaway.wordpress.com/tag/nymza/

>>2978362

>SONORA AERO CLUB

Super cool.

 

https://www.houstonpress.com/news/secrets-of-the-sonora-aero-club-6567727

In 1899, Charles Dellschau, a grouchy retired butcher, began to paint amazing airships. His intricate collages show shiplike decks supported by striped balloon pontoons; they show bright-colored helicopters and evil-looking striped dirigibles outfitted for war; they show crews of dapper little gentlemen accompanied by the occasional cat. Many pages are bedecked with little newspaper clippings about aviation, and text in his weird Germanic lettering celebrates the pure, unexcelled marvelousness of the flying machines.

 

Taken at face value, Dellschau's collages document the feats of the Sonora Aero Club, a secretive group dedicated to the creation of "aeros," or flying machines. In code, and bad spelling in both English and German, Dellschau recounted how, in his youth 50 years before, he and fellow club members gleefully ruled the skies of Gold Rush California, piloting fantastical airships of their own invention.

But untangling Dellschau's tale is a complicated matter, one that involves penetrating many levels of secrecy, including that of the very people trying to solve his riddles.

 

Steen found the immigration record that shows Dellschau's 1853 arrival in the United States. The young immigrant told officials that he was 25 years old; had been born in Brandenburg, Prussia; traveled here from Hamburg and listed his occupation as a farmer.

 

Steen uncovered Dellschau's letter of citizenship, which traces his whereabouts to Harris County in 1856 and Fort Bend County in 1860. Between those years, the historical documents are silent about Dellschau's whereabouts. And it's precisely during that gap that Dellschau claims the Sonora club's exploits took place. So far, Steen has not been able to locate documents showing that Dellschau even lived in California in the 1850s. Nor do there seem to be credible reports of unidentified flying objects in the area.

 

But where the historical records are silent, the artist's notebooks make noisy, extravagant claims. Dellschau represents himself as the club's draftsman and scribe, rather than as one of its inventors or fliers; he never draws himself aboard an aero. He illustrates a remarkable number of designs โ€“ maybe as many as 100 โ€“ for airships with names such as Aero Mio, Aero Trump, Aero Schnabel and Aero Mary. (There's even an Aero Jourdan.) All were powered by a secret formula that Dellschau called both "supe" and "suppe"; it could both negate gravity and drive the ships' wheels, side paddles and compressor motors.

Anonymous ID: ff0638 Sept. 11, 2018, 2 p.m. No.2979481   ๐Ÿ—„๏ธ.is ๐Ÿ”—kun

>>2978903

>>2978931

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/03/nyregion/at-the-owl-shop-in-new-haven-smoking-is-encouraged.html

The scene reflects the vision of Glen Greenberg, a doctorโ€™s son and a confirmed cigar smoker. Holed up in his pint-size office up a dark, winding staircase far from the noisy crowd, he exuded the quiet confidence of a man who had, at a critical moment, made the system work for him by evoking a bit of history.

 

In 1998, Mr. Greenberg, who has the trim body and fine features of the Juilliard School acting graduate that he is, moved back to the New Haven area, where he had grown up, while taking a break from acting. At the same time, the Owl Shop, in business since 1934, came up for sale. He, his father and another investor bought the place, hoping to make it a thriving concern.