Among other things: Historic Flathead Lake flight

July 23, 1913, is a significant date in Flathead Lake’s aviation history. It was the date of what was billed as the “first flight ever made from water in the Pacific Northwest.” And it almost didn’t come about, but pilot Terah T. Maroney’s patience and persistence prevailed.

The Flathead Courier reported that the Polson area was selected as the flight site “owing to the favorable atmospheric conditions that prevail here, there being no body of water in the country where there is less wind to contend with than there is here.”

Maroney selected Idylwilde Island (now known as Big Bull) as the base for his flight. He said he would take a lady passenger on one of his two planned flights, and that he would “drop a (flour) bomb on the deck of the Klondike” to prove the hydroplane’s worth in war.

On flight day the weather was lousy – windy, cold and rainy. Many spectators opted not to sail to the site. Despite delays, But Maroney lived up to his reputa?tion of never canceling a show. In fact, he made three flights instead of two.

Flathead Courier Editor Claude Cowman described the event: “The first flight was made about 3 o’clock when he sailed out over the waters of the main lake and after rising several hundred feet, com?menced circling over the islands and the boats.

“The wind kept blowing harder all the time and by the time he struck the water, the waves were running pretty high; but Mr. Maroney did not seem to mind it in the least, and came gliding in across the whitecaps midst a shower of spray. . .”

The steamer Klondike left before Maroney’s second trip, but he caught it 10 to 12 miles up the lake and was loudly cheered by the passengers as he circled several times. Maroney’s third trip was made towards evening when he took Miss Sadie Cresswell for a short ride.

The flights were so successful, despite the weather, that Maroney planned a second exhibition two weeks later. That show had its embarrassing moments.

The aviator and his helpers waited all day for the wind to die down so they could leave Idylwilde Island and bring with them their tents, tools and the plane. Early in the evening the wind calmed tempo?rarily and Maroney flew the plane to the west shore site where they had assembled the aircraft before the exhibition. The rest of the crew was to come along in their motorboat.

About an hour later, a fire was noted on the lake near the island. Maroney feared that the gaso?line in the boat had caught fire. It would have taken a boat at least a half-hour to reach the fire. So Mar?oney jumped into his plane and took off toward the fire, but he was destined to become the rescuee instead of rescuer.

Only four miles out, the plane the plane ran out of fuel and Maroney glided to a dead stick landing on the lake. He was rescued by the launch, Eva B, and was towed in the direction of the blaze, which turned out to be a signal fire on Little Bull Island. The motorboat’s engine had quit and the men pulled ashore.

The plane was left on the island overnight so the Eva B could tow the boat to shore. However, waves swamped the smaller boat and the crew’s tent and tools were swept overboard. The tool chest was retrieved with a grap?pling hook the next day. Two weeks later Maroney returned, saw the tent from the air, and it was recovered. Although, the weather was good this time, the crowds weren’t up to expectations but he made the flights anyway.

Weeks later, when Maroney learned that boats owned by the Montana and Clipper companies didn’t have enough passengers to sail to the exhibition, he refunded money paid by the firms although he was not le?gally obligated to do so.

A week after his last Flathead Lake appearance, Maroney crashed during a show in Kellogg, Idaho, but escaped with bumps and bruises. In true barnstorming tradition, he patched up himself and his plane to keep his booking in Butte the next Sunday.

In 1915, Maroney transferred his flight operations to Seattle where he operated a flying school and had a flying boat on Lake Union. Among those he taught to fly was a logger who became so enthused over the future of aviation, that he gave up logging to build airplanes. The logger’s name was Bill Boeing. His company is still a leader in commercial and military aviation manu?facturing.

In 1916 Maroney went to Shreveport, La., as a civilian flight in?structor and army test pilot.  After World War I he moved to Paso Robles, Calif., worked in the cabinet making trade and built some houses. But he continued flying and even flew an air?plane for a movie scene at Placerville.

He quit the carpentry trade again and re?turned to aviation to work for Cessna Aircraft in East St. Louis. On Jan. 12, 1929, he was killed when he got too close to a propeller.