Fights of Fancy: The Air Wars of Dean Ivan Lamb
“I saw the enemy plane and edged over in its direction. As I neared the machine close enough to note details, the pilot pushed up his goggles. Sure enough, it was Phil Rader. He seemed to recognize me and while trying to edge a bit closer we nearly locked wings. He quickly sheered [sic] off shaking his fist at me, then straightened out flying parallel. He drew a pistol and fired downward below my machine. It occurred that he had not actually aimed at me, but beneath. Following his example, I fired twice.”
“He straightened out again and copied my example by firing two shots. We then fired spaced shots until our guns were empty at about the same time. It proved very difficult to eject the empty shells and reload. The cartridges could not be ejected as one would do on the ground because they would be carried back by the wind into the rapidly spinning propeller. While attempting to eject and reload, the planes had drifted apart, but I could see that Rader was also having his difficulties. I finally solved the problem by placing the pistol inside my shirt, ejecting the empties there, and was able to reload a cartridge one at a time while holding the pistol between my knees. He succeeded in reloading in some manner as we both edged in to continue the ‘battle,’ but Rader’s pistol was in his holster as we neared…then I caught the signal to turn and nodded. Phil waved his hand and continued straight to the east while I turned back…and landed as gasoline was running low.”[1]
Adventurer, Aviator, Author
The teller of this tale was Dean Ivan Lamb, one-time mercenary, sometime pilot, and full-time raconteur. This alleged aerial duel continues to be cited, often by respected aviation writers, as the world’s first dogfight. Some versions of the incident go so far as to identify the types of aircraft involved; a Curtiss pusher for Lamb, a Christofferson biplane for his antagonist, Phil Rader. It’s a colorful little anecdote, but there’s one small problem - not a shred of substantiating evidence, even of the hearsay variety, has ever come to light.
Exactly how and when this mildly fantastic yarn morphed into a historical fact is impossible to determine, but the story apparently rests on nothing more than Lamb’s recollections, published 20 years later as a flamboyant autobiographical tale entitled The Incurable Filibuster – Adventures of Colonel Dean Ivan Lamb. To a lesser extent than his purported encounter with Phil Rader, Lamb’s accounts of his aerial exploits elsewhere in Central and South America have also crept into mainstream aviation history.[2] But a careful look and a bit of research casts doubt on the veracity of almost all the tales spun by this self-styled filibuster.
The Dogs in the Fight
Neither Dean Ivan Lamb nor Phil Rader are well known names today although Lamb, thanks mostly to his own self-promotion, did achieved a degree of notoriety in his later years. Rader remains virtually unknown, even though his brief history is somewhat more easily verified.
Dean Ivan Lamb was born February 3, 1886, in Cherry Flats, Tioga County, Penn., to Henry and Viola English Lamb.[3] Before the age of 25 he had, so he would later claim, worked as a merchant seaman, a pearl fisherman in the Philippines, an agent for the Imperial Chinese customs, a cattle puncher in Arizona, a construction boss on the Panama Canal, and fought in a couple of Latin American revolutions.[4]
Phillips Dwight Rader, or “Phil”, as he was known, was born September 6, 1891, in Biddeford, Me., the son of Rev. William Rader and his wife, Sophie Wells Rader. At some point not many years thereafter, the family moved to the San Francisco Bay area. In 1908, Phil graduated from the industrial arts program at San Francisco Polytechnic High School. Already touted as an up-and-coming cartoonist, he quickly found employment in the newspaper industry. On April 10, 1910, in a ceremony performed by his father, young Rader . . .
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Dean Lamb's British aviator's license photo.
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