The wright stuff: North Carolina provided not only the site, but Tar Heels played essential--if forgotten--roles in the first flight.

• Author: Parramore, Thomas C.
• Position: Feature

Bill Tate, assistant weatherman at Kitty Hawk, doesn't get much credit for his role in the birth of aviation. One afternoon in September 1900, he was sifting through the mail from Elizabeth City when he noticed a letter postmarked Dayton, Ohio, to Joseph J. Dosher, chief of the weather station. Curious, Tate opened it and learned that Wilbur Wright might come to the Outer Banks to do "experiments in kite flying."

The writer wanted a tall sand dune rising from a tract free of trees and bushes, and steady winds. It went without saying that soft sand would help make for safe landings. Tate showed the letter to Dosher, who penned a note advising Wright, if he came, to bring a tent. Kitty Hawk had little in the way of accommodations. It was brusque, but Dosher suggested that Tate might want to reply in more detail. Tate was disappointed with Dosher's virtual dismissal of the stranger's inquiry. He had lately read that kite and glider flying were well-worn paths for those who dreamed of powered flight.

Of course, he might have warned Wright that September was hurricane season. Storms were often so harsh that rain swept in with enough force to break windows and doors, strip paint, threaten the well-being of man and beast -- and play havoc with kites. Mosquitoes and sand flies could be ghastly, and the sun, blazing hot. It would be no sin, however, to paint a more inviting picture. After all, it might be balmy, and the insects might be less menacing than usual. Why deny himself and his neighbors an interesting autumn?

"Our winds are always steady generally from 10 to 20 miles per hour," he wrote. Just south of Kitty Hawk lay "a stretch of sandy beach one mile by five with a bare hill in the center, 80 feet high, not a tree or bush anywhere." A telegraph linked the town to the mainland, and boats ran weekly to Elizabeth City for supplies. He would "take pleasure in doing all I can for your convenience and success & pleasure, & assure you of a hospitable people when you come among us." But the best weather was mid-September to mid-October, so he should come soon.

The Wrights likely wouldn't have come to Kitty Hawk but for Tate's letter. They also were waiting to hear from Myrtle Beach, S.C. But a few days later, Wilbur, leaving his brother Orville to close their bicycle shop, hopped a train for Norfolk, Va., where he would catch another to Elizabeth City, 48 miles northeast of Kitty Hawk. With him came crates carrying the disassembled glider the brothers had built that summer, tools, provisions and the tent Dosher had recommended.

Reaching Elizabeth City Sept. 10, Wright made arrangements to have his glider and gear shipped to Kitty Hawk, and he hired Israel Ferry and his leaky shanty boat, Curlicue, to take him there the next day. The flat-bottomed sloop had not reached Currituck Sound, separating the Outer Banks from the mainland, when a heavy gale blew in, threatening to capsize it. Wright was obliged to labor on deck almost constantly for the next two days, subsisting on a snack he had with him, in preference to Perry's dirty galley and unpalatable cuisine.

On the morning of Sept. 13, they arrived at Kitty Hawk's Sound Landing, and Wright was led to Tate's house, a mile up the road, by 14-year-old Elijah Baum, who had been at the dock sailing a model boat. Tate, who had received no reply to his letter, was astonished to see the disheveled Wright. Tate's wife, Addie, fixed a hot breakfast. Wright and Tate agreed that the brothers would pay $4 a week for room and board, and Wright went to work in Tate's front yard assembling his collection of slats and spars and bolts of white cloth.

Arriving in late September, Orville found...