By Lester Ward "Budge" Ruffner

Seventy-five years ago tomorrow night the Yankee Doodle hit a steep slope of ponderosa pines in the Bradshaw Mountains near Palace Station. The Yankee Doodle was the first Lockheed Vega-built that had a Pratt & Whitney Wasp engine, 450 horsepower.

The "monoplane" was appropriately painted red, white and blue and carried the federal registration number X4769. When this tragedy occurred some 30 miles southeast of Prescott the night of November 3, 1928, the owner of the aircraft, Harry Tucker, and his pilot Captain C.B.D. Collyer died.

When the Yankee Doodle's wings bit into the sea air at Mines Field, Inglewood, Calif., for the last time, she already held both the west-east and east-west speed records with Art Goebel as pilot. 

Collyer, a flamboyant bachelor, (aren't they all) was a former military pilot. He was convinced he could better Goebel's west-east record in the same aircraft. 

The owner of the Yankee Doodle, Henry Tucker, was a millionaire playboy whose only living relative was an aunt in Santa Monica. He had a sincere interest in the future of aviation but his penchant for wine, women and background music got the final flight of the Yankee Doodle off to a bad start. 

The original plan of Collyer and Tucker was to take off at 3:30 P.M. Saturday, November 3, 1928. Numerous friends of Harry Tucker insisted that he and Captain Collyer first attend a modest dinner party in their honor at the Ambassador Hotel. Against the better judgment of both men, they agreed and, dressed in their tuxedos, they joined the party. 

They had hoped to leave early, change into their flight suits and take to the air before the Pacific swallowed the last shaft of sunlight. In spite of prohibition, the party was a festive affair. After several false starts, Tucker and his pilot were driven to Mines Field (now LAX) and donned their flight suites over their tuxedos. Finally, wined, dined and behind schedule, Collyer and Tucker coaxed the Yankee Doodle above the Los Angeles basin and headed east. 

It was "sometime before midnight" when D.A. Seaman heard the strange but assuring sound of the 450 horse Pratt Whitney. Seaman, an old prospector camped at Venezia later told the representatives of the aircraft's manufacturer: "The engine did not fail. They were circling, trying to climb. I never heard a sweeter-running motor in my life." 

Then, the prospector in Venezia heard the explosion. It was a message of death of men and machine. 

The coroner, Gordon Clark, was, what they called at the time, "a dwarf." He was also the only Republican to hold office in the Yavapai County courthouse. He was to convene a coroner's jury at the sight of the accident. The wreck rested in grim silence two rugged miles from the nearest road. 

The coroner rode a gentle burro, and Frank Shields, a Palace Station rancher, led the party to the scene. The coroner's jury consisted of two Prescott morticians, a deputy sheriff and three cowboy-packers. 

The broken bodies were removed, wrapped in tarps, and with the aid of diamond hitches, kyack boxes and two sturdy, mountain-wise burros, carried out to a waiting hearse. 

Following cremation, a private memorial service was held for Harry Tucker at the home of his aunt in Santa Monica. Services for Captain B.D. Collyer were conducted Saturday November 10,1928 at the Brick Presbyterian Church, Fifth Avenue, New York City. 

All during the services, friends of Captain Collyer from Newark, Mitchel Curtis, Roosevelt fields and the Naval Air Station at Rockaway, circled their aircraft over the church. Interment was in Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors. 

Within a week various investigators representing aircraft manufacturers arrived in Prescott to interview individuals and collect what parts of the monoplane they could. Tucker's aunt also came to town and stayed at the Hassayampa Hotel for several days. 

Souvenir collectors had nearly stripped the accident scene of physical evidence. 

Scholey's Pool Hall (this was during Prohibition) on North Cortez Street where Lizzard's Lounge is now, was the only "bar" and pool hall in town with a sidewalk display window. It normally exhibited a two-headed calf, some prehistoric fiber sandals found by a deer hunter and a Navy Colt revolver dug out of Granite Creek. 

In the spring of 1929 Scholey's changed its window display. Every kid in town stood with their nose pressed against the plate glass gazing at bit of sculptured aluminum, and some strange gauges. They day dreamed; and looked at the sky. 

(Budge Ruffner originally wrote this article for the Courier in 1990.) 



Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (misc140pf). Reuse only by permission.