Most esteemed Mister Potato,

Should you be so kind as to have yourself deposited at the Victoria Hotel in London, we at the newly-established Imperial Airways shall be most pleased to give you the opportunity of partaking in what shall surely be the adventure of a lifetime. And allow me to humbly assure you that upon your return from Paris and the completion of the aforementioned adventure you will not consider your abundantly-spent money to have been wasted.

* * *

In 1924, the first major British airline was formed and it was given an appropriately pompous name: Imperial Airways. It was an odd entity, in simple terms you could define it as a sort of a private company which was granted monopoly by the government and money to hold on to that monopoly. There was controversy, of course. The journalists of Flight—perhaps the most renowned aviation magazine in the world in the history of ever—were critical of the idea from the get-go. Flight’s issue of April 3, 1924, notes:

As we have repeatedly pointed out in these columns, we are very much against monopolies of any sort, nor do we venture to think that the present company will prove an exception. At the same time, it was becoming obvious that the old arrangements did not promise the progress and development which is necessary if the advantages of commercial aviation are to be fully realised, and after long deliberations, and the views of many bodies and individuals having been obtained, the Hambling Committee* came to the conclusion that the formation of a single powerful company offered the best solution to the problem. Time alone will show whether or not this view is correct. In the meantime, the new company is now a fait accompli

Even the editors of Flight would have to agree that these specific subsidies were a necessary evil; and a provision for dividends to be paid to the government meant that if the subsidy worked as intended, it would automatically transform itself into kinda-sorta-a loan.

Why were the subsidies necessary? Well, by this point air travel on the London-to-Paris route had become somewhat routine. In a period of the early 1920s there were a grand total of six airlines offering services between these two capitals, three each on either side of the Channel, but only those on the continental side were subsidised. As a result, French airlines were able to demand fares not only lower than their direct British competition, but also comparable with their indirect competition: the railway. And time was money back then as much as it is now. A businessman could hop on a plane in Paris, travel to London, hold a quick meeting with his British partner, and return to Paris… well, not before supper, but before his wife went to sleep, let’s say. (We’ll talk more about schedules in a moment.)

Had subsidies not been introduced, British airlines would not have been able to compete on the London-to-Paris route at all**. It was an issue of import thrice over. a) The Empire needed aviation to match other nations in efficiency of transport and communication. b) Constantly developing aviation in Britain would, it was hoped, result in technological and economic gains for the country. c) We can’t very well allow the bloody Frenchmen to achieve supremacy in the skies of Albion, can we?

And so, at the prompting of Mister Hambling, Imperial Airways was born in March 1924. Originally, it was planned to commence services on April 1, but disputes over pay of pilots caused a not insignificant delay. Eventually, Flight reported in its August 28 issue:

In the interim all the air traffic to and from Croydon was carried by foreign machines, but the traffic figures just published indicate that once Imperial Airways got going it was not long before a large proportion of the traffic was again attracted to the British air lines. . . . The figures issued by Imperial Airways, Ltd., must be regarded as distinctly, encouraging, more especially if it is remembered that the first two months of the firm's operations scarcely amount to as much as a normal single month's work, owing to the delay referred to. During April and May 47,940 miles were flown . . . During the month of June 99,710 miles were flown . . . The receipts were £27,398. July, how-ever, in spite of very unfavourable weather conditions, showed a vast improvement in every respect. No less than 146,840 miles were flown . . . The receipts were £42,520.

The subsidies worked. And this is the world that the most esteemed Mister Potato finds himself in. Let’s go flying.

* * *

We are in the time of the first bona fide airliners, such as the Junkers F 13 in Germany or the de Havilland DH.34 and the Handley Page W family of aeroplanes in Britain, or the Farman F.70 in France. The network of services is expanding, Imperial is already (or will soon be) flying to Brussels, Amsterdam, Hanover, Berlin, and Zurich (via Paris). But let’s stick with Paris itself.

Booking the ticket would have been simple enough. You could either make a reservation over the phone or visit the airline’s office in person. As you were perhaps kind enough to notice, I asked you to have yourself deposited on the big day at the Victoria Hotel in Trafalgar Square, not at Croydon Airfield, whence Imperial aeroplanes flew to Paris. That is because even though it’s hard to put an airfield in the middle of a city, airlines of ye olden days believed that their customer—who would usually be a businessman on a business trip or a government official on an official trip—should not be preoccupied with something as trivial as getting to the airport with, gasp, luggage.

Your luggage allowance was 15 kilograms. Instead of hauling it around, you would arrive in a conveniently located office, check in your bags, and take a train or car to the airfield without a care in the world.

A plane departing Croydon at noon was expected to arrive at Le Bourget at 14.25. Obviously, you would not be forced to carry all your belongings to Paris proper. Again, Imperial had an office of the same type, this time located in Hôtel de Crillon, adjacent to the Jardins des Champs-Élysées. A return trip would set you back 12 pounds. Half fare for a child up to the age of seven.

The aeroplane that would take you to Paris and back would probably be the de Havilland DH.34, a wooden biplane manned by either one or two pilots (no flight attendants, sorry) and carrying eight, or sometimes up to ten, passengers. The comfort of the journey would be mainly contingent on the weather, as these small and light aeroplanes were easily pushed around by the wind. You would enter the cabin with the help of a small folding ladder and you’d try to make yourself comfortable in one of the wicker chairs. Oh, and the cabin could get pretty cold, so make sure you’re dressed appropriately. Just remember not to take the flight on December 24, 1924. That flight ended (or, actually, started) with a crash that killed everyone on board.

This was one of four Imperial DH.34 crashes in 1924, but the only one which resulted in loss of life.

* * *

Can you afford it? Say you’re willing to save up and spend half a month’s wages for the adventure of a lifetime. This means you would have to earn 310–315 pounds a year. Now, how much was that back in the day? Let’s start by looking at how much your pilot is earning. The aforementioned issue of Flight of April 3, 1924, notes:

The directors [of Imperial Airways] decided that in the case of pilots . . . terms should be offered which, in the form of an annual retainer and “flying-time” pay, will ensure an annual income of £750 to £850, according to seniority, to pilots.

But the earnings of pilots back then were not “middle class.” Economic history is not my field, so I don’t want to dig too deep, but according to Guy Routh a railway engine driver in 1924 could expect to earn 276 pounds per year and a compositor (or typesetter) just 209 pounds. For them a trip to Paris would be on the very expensive side, but not completely out of the question.

Notes

*) Sir Herbert Hambling was a banker tasked by the government with devising a scheme of subsidising civilian aviation.

**) As a side note: the German government was also generous in subsidising its airlines, with Deutscher Aero Lloyd becoming a major player in Europe almost overnight, when they were allowed to start international services in 1925. Then, over-another-night, they almost went bankrupt. Still, after a number of transformations and one notional legal severing of continuity post World War 2, they’ve maintained their leading status in Europe to this day. You’ve probably heard of them. They’re Lufthansa.