THE HEIGHTS’ LIGHTER-THAN-AIR LEGENDS

Most people who walk down Vaniman Street or Preston Avenue don’t give a thought to where they got their names. But those names loom large, not only in the history of Goodyear, but in the early history of flight.

Back when Goodyear was just getting started, Frank Seiberling wasn’t planning to be limited to the tire business. Goodyear was at the forefront of many advanced technologies, and was fully staffed with some of America’s brightest engineers. These were the same men that built the neighborhood’s streets, planned for its water and sewer utilities, and ensured that Warren Manning’s innovative design became a reality. The company’s expertise in rubber made the construction of balloon and blimp envelopes a natural, and Seiberling’s enthusiasm for flight was the impetus needed to make sure Goodyear became a world leader in lighter-than-air flight.

So it was that when Melvin Vaniman, a noted aerial photographer who had taken up piloting airships, needed a new airship to make a second attempt at an Atlantic crossing, Goodyear manufactured the craft’s giant rubber gas bag. Vaniman—who never actually lived in Akron—had attempted a crossing in 1910, but was forced to ditch in the ocean due to an engine failure. Thankfully, he and his feline co-pilot “Kiddo” survived.

For his second attempt, Vaniman was happy to name the airship Akron at Frank Seiberling’s request, and in 1912 he set off from the Jersey shore near Atlantic City, this time, without his furry friend. Sadly, Vaniman would fail once again, but the second attempt cost he and his four crewmen their lives. Filled with over 11,000 cubic meters of hydrogen, the airship burst into flames and exploded — plunging the ship’s gondola over 750 meters to an inlet. Soon thereafter, Vaniman’s brave exploits would be immortalized by having one of the neighborhood’s streets named after him.

Just as Vaniman was attempting his first transatlantic flight, Goodyear engineer P.W. Litchfield was attending an airship meet in Paris, and on his way back to the US, bought new equipment in Scotland for spreading rubber on fabric and brought two Scotsmen back home with him to operate it. Soon, Goodyear was developing advanced balloon and airship designs, and the company was eager to test them out.

Preston and Upson commemorated on a card celebrating their balloon race victory

Onto this scene entered the two Ralphs—R.H. Upson and R.A. Preston—both talented and fearless engineers who worked in Goodyear’s Aeronautical Division. Confident enough to fly the same balloons and airships that came off their drawing boards, they quickly led the company into a leadership position, winning the International Gordon-Bennett Balloon Race in 1913 as well as many competitions across America.

Success breeds success, and in 1917 Goodyear became involved in the effort to build an all- new airship for the U.S. Navy, designated the B-Class. The contract was large enough that four other firms—including B.F. Goodrich and U.S. Rubber Co. (Later Uniroyal)—teamed up to get the job done. With its immense experience in lighter-than-air craft, Goodyear led the project, and engineers Preston and Upson played major roles in designing a brand new generation of advanced airships.

The two men were among the company’s most notable and respected employees. As there was already an Upson Street in the northern part of Middlebury, Preston was honored with having a street named after him in the new Goodyear Heights development. Ralph Upson soon made his home on the Heights, having his own house built on Shawnee Path using a company-approved design.

Just as young boys of the early 1960’s loved to follow space heroes named Shepard, Glenn and Grissom—boys of the early 1900’s closely followed the daring exploits of airship pioneers like Vaniman, Upson and Preston, which were highlighted in newspapers around the world. It’s nice to know they’ll always be remembered in Goodyear Heights.

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THE MYSTERIES OF BLUE POND

While it was always a great source of recreation and scenic beauty for the neighborhood, Blue Pond also had its mysteries. Located at the bottom of Goodyear Boulevard, across from Seiberling Field, this body of water has existed since primeval times, being left behind when the glaciers retreated. Many similar bodies of water exist in Summit County, though a great many have receded over time or filled in as vegetation eventually closed in their banks and filled in their depths. If not preserved, this may be the eventual fate of Blue Pond.

That said, the Pond still gets much of its water from natural springs that flow down from Goodyear Heights, and large drains were installed during the neighborhood’s construction to allow natural water flow to find its way down to the Pond. Additional drains were installed at the Pond to lower its overall level by about four feet; this was done to dry up the swampy area at the bottom of Goodyear Boulevard so a solid road bed could be laid down. These drains, in turn, sent overflow into the Little Cuyahoga.

About two hundred years ago, Blue Pond covered two or three times as much space as it does today, and reached all the way over to the ridge at East Akron Cemetery. At the time Goodyear Heights was being built, it was a nearly round body of water, with open banks almost all the way around. Even in the late 19th century, it was a source of amusement and recreation; a boardwalk was built around the lake, a bandstand was built over the water, as was a small dancing pavilion. Investors had collected about $30,000 for additional improvements, but those plans were abandoned when the president and treasurer of the organization made off with the money. A few years later, Goodyear took over the property and had Warren Manning develop an overall landscaping plan as part of his Goodyear Heights work. The plan, which included dozens of tennis courts and other structures, was never fully carried out; the recession of 1920 made it impossible for the company to complete Manning's impressive design. Several years later, Reservoir Park was created, and the everyday recreational needs of Goodyear Heights, which had been mostly served by Blue Pond Park & Seiberling Field, carried on further up the hill.

Mysteries continued to be associated with Blue Pond. For years, people claimed that the pond had no bottom, though later railroad surveys had measured it to be 90 feet at its deepest point, which is still surprising. Some of these rumors are based on witnesses who insist that during the construction of the old dance hall, seven piles had to be driven, one on top of the other, before solid bedrock was reached. This was later refuted by people who were actually involved, who explained that only four piles were driven—next to each other, each one longer than the previous, before the longest was found to be sturdy and of sufficient depth.
Perhaps more sinister were the old rumors that people who drowned in the pond were never found—or that occasionally, bodies would slowly rise to the surface, but then recede again below the depths before they could be recovered. That may have been enough of a spook to keep small children away—at least without parental supervision.

Blue Pond in 1913. Goodyear Blvd. just beyond the tree line - East Akron Cemetery mausoleum at upper right.

Even to this day, there is a rumor that a train car came off the adjacent railroad track and tumbled into the Pond’s depths, never to be recovered. Again, there is no known basis for this story; it may have come about through the existence of some widely circulated pictures taken during the storm of 1913, which flooded the city and blew out the Little Cuyahoga throughout east Akron. About a mile north of Blue Pond, the rail lines were undercut and some train cars did fall into the river bed; the relation of the rail line to the water is somewhat similar and the areas resemble one another to some extent. It is possible that people may have looked at the photos and seeing the locations noted as “East Akron” - mistook one location for the other. It’s hard to say now.

Today, the biggest mystery surrounding Blue Pond is the safety and quality of its water. It was assumed that for years, some chemicals may have made their way into the pond from the Goodyear Research labs (right across N. Johns Ave.) – the spot was originally on EPA radar, but it was officially “archived” many years ago, which generally means that it poses no significant threat and that it is no longer subject to testing or monitoring. If it could be reclaimed as a useful body of water, Blue Pond could again be a great asset to the neighborhood.

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