Ye Ancient and Secret
Order of Quiet Birdmen
Brother QB, valiant friend
Go in the grace of God!
Go where the ships come down to park
When the day is done and night falls dark
And landing gears etch their mark
Upon eternal sod.
Brother QB, valiant friend
For alone thy flight shall be,
Such journey is not strange to thee
Whose years have compassed land and sea
So long without surcease.Brother QB, valiant friend
Go to eternal rest!
For storms shall roll and winds shall ply
Without erasure from on high
Thy trace writ large on freedom's sky
Until thy course held west.
The Quiet Birdmen, a fraternity of pilots that predates most airlines, is one of the greatest secret fraternal order in aviation. It apparently has its origins dating back to the creation of the American Flying Club, in France on Armistice Day and which was later installed in a clubhouse of New York's Fifth Avenue in March, 1919. The club members seemed to have enjoyed quite a good time because two years the police apparently crashed the party and closed down the club -- "padlocked the door" according to the only source I've discovered that discusses this elusive fraternity.
Not to be dissuaded, a small group of the original members gathered in 1921 and began meeting more or less regularly at Marta's Greenwich Village restaurant. Steve Hannigan, a local reporter, visited the festive table and returned the next week with an artist. He did a feature story, with a sketch. In attendance that evening were: Harry Bruno; S. H. MacKeon; Wallace James; Richard R. Blythe; Earle Osborn; C. S." Casey Jones"; Slim Lewis; Ernest Loftquis; Paul G. Zimmerman; Donald Mcllheny; Baron Ladislas d'Orcy; Richard DePew; George Hubbard; R. B. C. Noorduyn; and J. E. Whitbeck.
Harold Hersey, then editing Aces High Magazine, (a pulp magazine which featured stories of aerial combat in the days of WWI) had visited Marta's, had his eardrums shaken by the desperate hilarity, and dubbed the gathering, The Quiet Birdmen. Hannegin's story was the first the public heard of the QB. Oddly enough, it is still damned near impossible to learn anything more about this group today!
The poem above reflects the close ties and feelings of brotherhood shared by members of the fraternity. When a pilot dies, it is said of him that "another good friend has flown west."
"To fly west my friend,
is a flight we all must make,
for our final check."
- anon
