Transcript
Introduction
At exactly 10:35, Orville slipped the rope restraining the flyer and headed forward. At the end of the track, the flyer lifted into the air, and Daniels, who had never operated a camera until then, snapped the shutter to take what would become one of the most historic photographs of the century. The course of the flight, in Orville's words, was extremely erratic. The flyer rose, dipped down, rose again, bounced, and dipped again like a bucking bronco. The distance flown had been 120 feet. The total time airborne was approximately 12 seconds.
"Were you scared?" Orville would be asked. "Scared," he said with a smile, "there wasn't time. It was only a flight of 12 seconds," he said, "and it was an uncertain, wavy, creeping sort of flight at best, but it was a real flight at last." Wilbur took a turn and went off like a bird for 175 feet. Orville went again, flying 200 feet. Then on the fourth test, Wilbur flew through the air and a distance of 852 feet over the ground in 59 seconds.
It had taken 4 years. They had endured violent storms, accidents, one disappointment after another, public indifference and ridicule, and clouds of demon mosquitoes. To get to and from their remote sand dune testing ground, they had made 5 round trips from Ohio, a total of 7,000 miles by train, all to fly a little more than half a mile. No matter, they had done it. Success, it most certainly was, and more. What had transpired that day in 1903 in the stiff winds and cold of the outer banks in less than 2 hours' time was one of the turning points in history. The beginning of change for the world far greater than any of those present could possibly have imagined.
Being the kind of men they were, neither ever said the stunning contrast between their success and Samuel Langley's full-scale failure just days before. Langley's project had cost nearly $70,000, the greater part of it, public money, whereas the Wright Brothers' total expenses for everything, from 1900 to 1903, including the materials and travel to and from Kitty Hawk, came to a little less than $1,000, a sum paid entirely from the modest profits of their bicycle business.
Of those who had been eyewitnesses, John T. Daniels was the most effusive about what he had felt. "I like to think about that first airplane," he said. "The way it sailed off in the air, as pretty as any bird you ever laid your eyes on. And I don't think I ever saw a prettier sight in my life, but it would have never happened," Daniels stressed, "had it not been for the 2 "workingest boys" he ever met. It wasn't luck that made them fly. It was hard work and common sense. They put their whole heart and soul, and all of their energy into an idea and they had faith."
That is an excerpt from the book that I just reread and the one I'm going to talk you about today, which is The Wright Brothers, and it was written by David McCullough. I've read this book for the first time 4 years ago, and I actually did a podcast. It's Founders #28 on it. And I wanted to reread it because I think it's the single best illustration of this idea that I learned from Paul Graham. Paul Graham is a prolific writer. He is also the founder of Y Combinator, and his website is just fantastic because he's got all these great essays. And he wrote an essay back in 2009. And I just want to read the first paragraph and the last paragraph also leaving in the show notes, in case you haven't read it. It's fantastic. And Paul has seen a ton of start-up founders through his mentorship and his investments.