Henry Hope Wong was born to William Hope Wong (originally known as Wong Fook On), a Chinese immigrant, and Cheruo “Mabel” Hope Wong (also identified as Chun Yow) in 1900 in Portland, Oregon. Henry became one of the first people of Chinese descent in that region of the United States to pursue taking to the skies as an aviator.
Henry and his family lived at 246 Jefferson Street in Portland. By the time he was a teenager, he had developed a strong interest in aviation. This enthusiasm was reported in detail by the Oregon Daily Journal in an article about him in June 1917.
“Wong is a natural born airman,” noted this newspaper. “During the days he attended the Couch grammar school, from which he was graduated last January, he made a continuous study of aeroplanes; [he] read innumerable books, built models and made drawings.” This article then stated, “Finally he succeeded in making an aeroplane which by a certain arrangement of rubber bands, would really fly. One day the aeroplane came near flying through the window of his home.”
At this stage of his life, Wong aspired to attend the American School of Aviation in Chicago so that he could learn how to fly. This ambition led to a tug-of-war with this father, who had strong concerns about the safety of flying a plane and preferred that his son instead stay in Portland to attend a trade school there. Henry did not cave in to his father’s wishes, though.
The Oregon Daily Journal recounted, “He sent a drawing of his model to the American aviation school and later his parents received a letter urging them to let their son attend. Mr. Wong, however, still insisted that flying is a dangerous profession and that the money was not forthcoming.” After a supportive uncle stepped forward to cover the expenses for attending the school, though, Henry made his way to Chicago.
No long after Wong arrived at the American School of Aviation, he encountered a major setback when his flight instructor was incapacitated due to a broken leg. Wong’s tuition was subsequently refunded and he ended up remaining in Chicago for a couple of months to work in the factory of the E.B. Heath Airplane Company. It was through this employment, according to the Sunday Oregonian in April 1918, that Wong “obtained a rudimentary knowledge of airplane construction.”
Wong subsequently went to the Beam School of Aviation in the town (now city) of Celina in western Ohio to finally learn how to fly. “He learned not only how to fly, but also how to assemble parts of airplanes,” reported the Sunday Oregonian. “With the knowledge he already had received in the Chicago factory, he became skilled in airplane construction.” During his first solo flight, Wong attained an altitude of 5,827 feet (1,776 meters) in the skies above Ohio. He asserted that, on another flight, he stayed aloft in the skies for more than 13 hours and reached an altitude of 7,000 feet (2,133 meters).
After eight months of instruction at Beam School of Aviation, Wong graduated with a diploma and high honors. With the United States heavily engaged in World War I on the side of the Allied Powers, Wong sought to serve as a pilot in the Aviation Section of the U.S. Army Signal Corps. His application was rejected, however, on the grounds that he did not meet the minimum age requirement for pilots in that military branch.
Consequently, Wong journeyed back to his hometown of Portland as – in the words of the Oregon Daily Journal – “a full fledged aviator.” In doing so, he had two major ambitions in mind. The first of these involved eventually traveling to his ancestral homeland of China to open a flight instruction school there. Wong’s other ambition was to set aside the assembly of rubber-banded model planes for the development of a life-sized, bona fide aircraft of his own for maneuvering well above the earth and into the skies.
In reporting on Wong’s return to Portland, the Sunday Oregonian highlighted rather effusively his strong if thwarted desire to serve in the U.S. military during wartime and also the formidable qualities that he brought to his airborne pursuits. “Hats off to Henry Wong, patriotic Chinese-American,” proclaimed this article. “Young Wong has grit, determination, nerve and skill, and the proper balancing fluid – all attributes for a successful aviator.”
Wong wasted little if any time following through on his plans to create his own aircraft. Under the auspices of the Aero Club of Oregon, he labored long and hard in a workroom at 290 South Third Street in Portland to assemble a plane. Those helping him in this endeavor included Dan Greco, a 20-year-old aircraft designer and builder. “The two young men have tackled and are mustering a man’s size job with becoming modesty,” noted the Sunday Oregonian.
The end result of all this work was a tractor biplane with two sets of wings. Measuring 27 feet (8.2 meters) and two inches (5.1 centimeters) in length, the plane had a wing spread of 10 feet (3.1 meters) and height of 12 feet (3.7 meters). This aircraft, which was named “H.W.,” was temporarily placed on public display in an automobile salesroom at the corner of Broadway and Burnside Streets in Portland.
Ultimately, Wong proceeded to take his aircraft to a Portland-based lowland known as Mock’s Bottom for a trial flight. The date for this airborne excursion was July 22, 1919, and it proved to be a disaster. “Local Chinese Youth Plunges with Plane,” announced a headline in the next day’s edition of the Oregonian. A somewhat more dramatic headline in the Oregon Daily Journal stated, “Crash! Year’s Work on Airplane Smashed After Brief Air Ride.”
What happened on that Tuesday afternoon was that, while Wong was somewhere between 50 and 100 feet (15.2 and 30.1 meters) in the air, his plane began to rock both severely and sideways. The aircraft then plummeted to the earth below. “Landing on its nose, the machine fell forward, breaking the fuselage straight across at the center,” recounted the Oregonian. “The tail and propeller were also smashed and the body splintered.”
Wong was found pinned beneath the plane’s wreckage. After being extricated, he was taken to a nearby hospital. Fortunately, his worst injury from what could have been a deadly crash was a sprained back. W.R. Cheadle, a mechanic who worked with Wong in constructing the plane, explained the following day that the most likely cause of the accident was what he characterized as “the extreme roughness” of the terrain at Mock’s Bottom. This resulted in Wong being forced to maneuver the plane skyward before gaining sufficient headway on the ground. The plane’s consequent angle of 45 degrees (0.8 radian) made it a lot tougher if not impossible altogether for Wong to recalibrate his aircraft towards a more stable ascent.
While there is very little documentation on Wong’s activities following this accident, it is known that he accomplished his goal of going to China to pursue aviation there. This was highlighted by the Oregon Daily Journal in an October 1937 article reporting on a return trip that Wong made to Portland while visiting the United States.
“A Portland-born Chinese aviation officer, General Henry Wong, visited briefly here Wednesday evening en route from Seattle to San Francisco,” note the Oregon Daily Journal. “Because of his short stay, taking time to talk with close friends, a banquet and meeting arranged in his honor were canceled.” This article also stated, “Wong, who studied airplane construction in Chicago, went to China about 10 years ago . . . He has been in America on a combination vacation and study tour. He plans to return China soon.” At this time, the then-Republic of China was embroiled in a fierce and full-scale war against Japan.
It is likewise known that Wong was still alive as of May 1952; the Sunday Oregonian’s announcement of his mother’s death at that time identified him as one of her surviving children. (William Hope Wong passed away in February 1924.)
In an October 1917 interview with the Oregon Daily Journal, Wong expressed his love for piloting planes. He also gave a clear-eyed view on both the bright potential and ever-present risks of human flight for himself and others.
“Yes, it’s lonesome up there,” Wong said. “Seems like there is nothing in the world but me and the plane. The earth looks like a checkerboard with its farms, woods and cities.” He then stated, “What if something were to go wrong? Well, I’d just go wrong, too, I guess. You can’t do anything in case of that kind and have got to take the consequences.” Wong went on to assert, “There is a great future for aviation and I’m glad something told me [that] while I am young and can take full advantage of it.”
Image Credit: The Sunday Oregonian (7 April 1918)
Additional information on Henry Hope Wong is available at https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-oregon-daily-journal-chinese-boy-rea/26762592/
Transportation History 
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