On July 13, 1928 a small airplane crashed into the NJ Pine Barrens. Its pilot had no GPS or radio. Electrical storms throughout the Northeast coastal area brought him down. His name was Emilio Carranza Rodriguez. He left Long Island and was heading home, to Mexico. Those who knew him best said he was fearless. As an aviation pioneer, many thought his skills as a pilot dwarfed even those of the great Charles Lindbergh. His courage and life is an inspiration to us all.
Emilio Carranza Rodriguez was born on December 9, 1905 in a small village called Villa Ramos Arizpe in the northern state of Coahuila, Mexico. He and his family survived the tumultuous years of the Mexican Revolution by frequent moves to different locales. In 1916 Emilio’s great uncle, General Venustiano Carranza became the first Constitutional President of Mexico. Another relative, General Alberto Salinas Carranza – who founded the Mexican School of Aviation – inspired Emilio to become an aviator.
Most days Emilio spent his time at the Balbuena Airport in Mexico City in the company of pilots, mechanics and technicians absorbing everything he could about the single obsession of his life: flying. As a child, he’d climb over and inside airframes being serviced at the airport, asking endless questions about the designs, maintenance and mechanical makeup of machines he knew someday he would pilot through the clouds. His education was focused on his singular passion – to join the Mexican Air force and captain his own plane.
At the age of eighteen, Emilio enrolled as a cadet at the School of Military Aviation in Mexico City. There he demonstrated an uncanny ability to master the altitude and barometric pressure tables, mechanical training and navigational skills curriculum, regularly earning outstanding grades. His hands-on flying abilities were described by his instructors as “intuitive”. He completed his studies ahead of schedule and graduated with honors, being awarded the official rank of “Pilot of Aviation” in 1926. He was finally a “Captain”.
Emilio Carranza’s life from that moment on would be consumed by flying missions for the Mexican Air Force and competing throughout the United States in aviation record competitions that were bankrolled by Mexican newspapers and private foundations who sought to push the boundries of commerical flight as a commercial industry and enhance national prestige in the bargain.
The Carranzas – Emilio and his brothers, Sebastian and Jose – regularly indulged their love of long-distance flights after 1926. They even purchased a Lincoln Standard Biplane in Chicago, Illinois and attempted to break the Chicago to Mexico City record with it on their way home. Their travels included regular jaunts, sometimes for commercial purposes, from Mexico City to Moline, Kansas City, Wichita, Oklahoma City, Ft. Worth, San Antonio, Laredo and Monterrey (California). Flights for the oil industry and mineral prospecting expeditions were common.
Like other long-distance aviators of that pioneering period, Emilio Carranza endured his share of crash landings. Crashes in Oklohoma, remote regions of Texas and the American Southwest sharpened his practical skills as a pilot, teaching him the subtle nuances of wind and weather patterns unique to a location’s geography that oftimes mean success or failure in the sky.
During a Mexican Air Force mission against revolutionaries in the northern state of Sonora, Captain Carranza crashed while supporting Mexican Army ground units. Known as the El Yaqui Campaign, the Mexican Army achieved a stunning victory – but sustained great losses. Captain Carranza survived but suffered severe facial injuries, requiring his undergoing painful facial reconstruction and the installation platinum plates and screws in his jaws. Undaunted, Carranza spent his time in hospital planning future non-stop long distance flights and keeping his eyes on any US challengers in up-coming national contests.
In 1927 the Emilio and his brothers purchased a derelict Mexican Air Force airplane and completely rebuilt it, christening it “Coahuila” after the state of his birth in Mexico. With his co-pilot brother Sebastian (named after his father) by his side, the Carranzas sucessfully flew the “Coahuila” in September, 1927, from Mexico City to Ciudad Juarez in ten hours and forty-eight minutes – the longest non-stop flight by a Mexican Pilot at the time.
While touring the United States following his sucessful New York to Paris flight, Lindbergh happened to stop in El Paso, Texas on the same day Emilio Carranza landed in Ciudad Juarez. Charles Lindbergh telegraphed Captain Carranza and his brother congratulations, planting the seeds of a close friendship between them as kindred spirits. The pilots that day actually drove cars to a common location to meet and shared a meal, enjoying hours of camaraderie and reveling in their common aspirations and dreams for aviation in the years to come.
In 1927, Charles Lindbergh sucessfully completed a goodwill flight from Washington, DC to Mexico City’s Balbuena Airport. Naturally, Lindbergh stayed with his friend, Emilio Carranza, during his time in Mexico and the two pilots passed many more hours in conversation about their singular passion: flying.
By 1928, Captain Emilio Carranza Rodriguez – age 23 – was becoming a recognized aviation celebrity in his own right. He easily took the record for the third longest non-stop flight (1928), flying from San Diego, California to Mexico City, Mexico. In that year he also married Maria Luisa Corbala of the Mexican state of Sinaloa.
Lindbergh’s goodwill flight from Washington, DC to Mexico City was the catalyst for the Mexican Association of Aeronautics to propose a similar goodwill flight from Mexico City to the US Capital. There was really only one pilot in the hearts and minds of Mexicans for the journey: Emilio Carranza. Funding was secured by grants from the Mexican Newspaper Excelsior, the Banco de Mexico and private donations. Charles Lindbergh donated $2,500 (a princely sum in 1928) and his own (“Lucky Lindy”) flying goggles.
The first order of business for Captain Carranza was to secure a plane – but not just any plane. He wanted the plane of renown – a Ryan Brougham built in San Diego, California by Mahoney Aircraft Corporation with the famous “Wright Whirlwind” radial engine. It was a tried and true airframe. In fact, it was the same model Lindbergh christened “The Spirit of St. Louis”. Problem was, however, since Lindbergh’s successful flight from New York to Paris, Mahoney Aircraft had a huge backorder for Ryan Broughams. Even Charles Lindbergh himself was on the waiting list for another one. What to do?
One can only assume that messages were sent, friends leveraged friends and people in high places got involved because Carranza soon took delivery of a brand-new Ryan Brougham he named the Mexico-Excelsior. He dove into every detail of planning for the Mexico City to Washington, DC flight. On June 11, 1928 at 8:08 AM, Captain Emilio Carranza took off from Balbuena Airfield in Mexico City. Mexico’s hero was on his way. The Excelsior carried no radio. Carranza would fly by dead-reckoning, aided only by a map and postal route beacons – whenever he could sight them down below.
What can only be described as “Goodwill Flight Fever” spread throughout Mexico and the Mexican Government virtually commandeered telegraph lines along his flight path to the US border to follow his progress. Carranza’s first challenge came before he even cleared Mexican airspace. Somewhere over the northeast Mexican city of Tampico Excelsior’s engine developed a valve spring malfunction causing a repeated misfire and loss of altitude. Carranza actually started scoping out places to land and decided on putting down near Galveston, Texas. The valve spring problem and misfire, however, mysteriously corrected itself as suddenly as it appeared and the intrepid Mexican pushed on towards Washington, DC.
By 1:45 PM Carranza flew over Spartansburg, SC but heavy fog soon moved in over the Carolinas and obscured the (postal route) air beacons that were set up along his route. By the time he reached Mooresville, NC weather conditions had deteriorated so badly that he landed the Excelsior in a small airport outside that town – just 300 miles short of Washington, DC.
Captain Carranza left Moorseville, SC at about 1:50 PM on June 13 and, enjoying better weather, followed the Atlanta – New York Postal Route, landing at Bolling Field in Washington, DC at 5:15PM. Acting US Secretary of State Robert E. Olds (scion of the car family) and the Honorable Manuel Tellez, Mexican Ambassador to the USA were on hand to receive Captain Emilio Carranza with full honors. On June 14, 1928, Captain Carranza was received at the White House by President Calvin Coolidge. After placing a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetary in Washington, DC, Captain Carranza continued his goodwill flight to New York City.
The aviator was celebrated everywhere he appeared in New York City and enjoyed a particularly grand recption at West Point. His father, Sebastian Carranza, Military Attache at the Mexican Consulate in Manhattan, proudly attended the West Point event in his official capacity. Later, a black-tie dinner was held at Manhattan’s Hotel McAlpin in honor of the Mexican aviator, also attended by Mexican Military Attache Sebastian Carranza. It would be the last time father and son would see each other.
Poor weather postponed Captain Carranza’s planned departure from New York on July 9, 1928. On July 12, mechanics of the Wright Company conducted a thorough pre-flight examination of the Excelsior and performed rigorous engine tests. The plane was fueled and prepared for departure.
On direct orders of Captain Carranza, however, fuel load was reduced from 430 gallons to 390 gallons based on his calculations for the amount he’d need for the twenty-seven hour flight back to Mexico City and his concern for the danger his heavily loaded airplane posed to the large crowd that swamped Roosevelt Field in Long Island. The crowds later proved so unmanageable that it was announced that Carranza’s flight was “indefinately postponed” due to weather, just to get everyone to leave. The ruse worked and the crowds slowly melted away.
The weather was indeed a concern. Carranza paced the floors with mounting consternation as report after report came in to airport officials from the US Weather Bureau that “dangerous electrical storms” were expected throughout the Northeast coastal areas. At one point, Carranza accompanied the Excelsior back to its hanger. He waited – but fate then intervened.
While eating dinner, Captain Carranza was handed a telegram. Putting down his fork, he tore open the envelope marked “Western Union”. Inside were Orders. His Superior Officer at the Mexican Aeronautical Service, General Joaquin Amaro ordered his immediate return to Mexico. “No excuses” were to be made. To a military man like Captain Carranza, the directive was final. Bad weather or no – he was flying back to Mexico that night.
At 7:18 PM on July 12, 1928, Emilio Carranza took off from New York’s Roosevelt Airport in Long Island in the Excelsior despite what airport officials later described as a “tremendous electrical storm”. His flight plan called for him to fly non-stop, 2,300 miles from New York to Mexico City – heading towards Washington, DC for a courtesy “circling” of the Washington Monument – then on a direct compass course to the Mexican Capital. He was to land in his homeland at midnight on July 13, 1928.
The Associated Press wired Mexican news organizations of Captain Carranza’s departure for Mexico City. All of Mexico waited for news of their hero’s return. Everyone watched the skies. Thousands of loyal Mexicans, Mexican government officials, the US Ambassador to Mexico, Thomas Morrow, and his entire staff of the US Embassy converged on Balbuena Airfield in Mexico City to await the arrival of the national icon.
At around 8:00 PM – not one hour after Carranza took off from Roosevelt Field in Long Island, New York – the distinctive sound of a Wright Radial aircraft engine was heard over the small New Jersey Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth. The residents, some 85 miles from Long Island, were being deluged by a severe rain storm accompanied by unrelenting thunder and lightening. In the sky overhead, the Excelsior was battling head-on the full wrath and fury of this storm.
It was only after the wreckage of the Excelsior was examined by aviation experts that the last minutes of Emilio Carranza’s life was to be written into history books. Charring on the leading edge of Excelsior’s wing conclusively eastablished that the plane had been directly struck by lightening – but at 8:00 PM on July 12,1928 the sound of Carranza’s plane was the last and only clue that thousands of people eagerly following the aviator’s progress had knowledge of.
Stations were quickly set up along the New Jersey coastline and beyond by US Army Aviators to search the heavens for Excelsior , but no sightings were made. Reports of Wright radial engine sounds during the storm over Chatsworth, NJ was the only clue newswires had to broadcast and they did so repeatedly. Agonizing hours would pass before Excelsior’s wreckage – and the body of Emilio Carranza – would be found.
At about 3:00 PM on July 13, 1928, Mr. John Henry Carr, a mechanic from the Town of Chatsworth, was picking huckleberries with his wife, Marie, and his mother, Mary, along the tracks of the Central Railroad of New Jersey. As they worked their way up the rail line, they came upon the wing of an airplane and the body of a pilot. The remains of Captain Carranza. In the immediate area, twisted wreckage of the Excelsior fuselage and the imposing, legendary Wright Whirlwind engine was also found, surrounded by a thick stand of Jersey pines. The propeller blades were bent at angles like warped ploughshares.
Mr. Carr and his family drove back into Chatsworth and found a telephone. He called County Detective Arthur Carabine at the County Offices in Mt. Holly and made a complete report. Detective Carabine responded to the call and, assisted by other County law enforcement personnel, made a thorough search of the crash sight.
Detective Carabine also examined the remains of the pilot and conclusively determined that it was, in fact, Captain Carranza through Mexican identification papers in the man’s pocket. Detective Carabine arranged for a telegram to be sent to the Mexican Embassy in New York reporting the news of the crash and Captain Carranza’s demise.
Throughout July 13th and 14th the members of American Legion Post 11 in Mt. Holly cut a path through the dense underbrush of the Pine Barrens crash site so that the wreckage and remains of Captain Carranza could be recovered and paid proper respect. Army Officers of the Seventy Seventh Division at Fort Dix also lent assistance, finding a coffin for the famous Mexican aviator, draping it with an American flag of honor and securing it for turn-over to Mexican officials. This American flag of honor still hangs in Mexico’s Air Force School of Aviation.
When the news of Captain Carranza’s death reached his family in Mexico his mother was devastated. His wife, Maria Luisa Corbala de Carranza, broke down in tears. She would never have the opportunity to say what she was waiting to tell him in person when he landed in Mexico City: she was pregnant.
Late in the evening of July 13, 1928, representatives from the Mexican Consulate in New York arrived in Mt. Holly to formally identify and take possession of the body of Captain Emilio Carranza. In the early morning of July 14, 1928, two automobiles and a hearse driven by Mexican Consulate Officers made their way back to New York City.
Their cortege was escorted from Mt. Holly to the entrance of the of the Holland Tunnel by four NJ State Police Motorcycle Police Honor Guards. An NYPD Honor Guard detail took over on the other side of the Hudson. The Mexican Consulate received the remains of Mexico’s hero shortly thereafter.
United States President Calvin Coolidge sent a message to Mexican President Calles expressing the grief of the american people over Captain Carranza’s death and offering the battleship USS Florida to carry his remains back to Veracruz, Mexico. President Calles respectfully declined President Coolidge’s generous offer and instead opted for Carranza’s remains to be transported by train to Laredo, Texas, where a Mexican Military Guard Unit would transfer the casket to a Mexican train specially routed to Mexico City.
The final journey of Captain Carranza’s remains from Laredo, Texas to Mexico City included many rerouted stops along the way so that Mexican citizens could pay their respects. When Captain Carranza’s body finally reached Mexico City, he was awarded the title of “Ambassador of Goodwill” and was promoted to the rank of General of the Mexican Air Force posthumously by the Mexican government.
On July 24, 1928 Captain Emilio Carranza was laid to rest in a special rotunda in the Dolores Cemetary of Mexico City. A special message from President Calvin Coolidge was read by the American Ambassador to Mexico at the internment service, expressing the heartache of all americans at the avaitor’s passing and proclaiming that “His courageous achievements will serve not only as an inspiration to Mexican aviation but to that of the United States as well”.
After the funeral of her husband, Maria Luisa Corbala de Carranza moved to Guadalajara, Mexico, where she gave birth to a son whom she named Emilio. Unfortunately, young Emilio died five years later of appendicitis. Soon thereafter, Mexico established The Emilio Carranza Medal for Merit, an aviation award, in honor of the great aviator. This medal is presented in a formal ceremony every January 8th in Mexico City to pilots who complete 10,000 flight hours.
A second cousin of Emilio Carranza born seven years after his death, Ismael Carranza, served with distinction in the United States Air force. He saw action as a fighter pilot in the Korean Conflict and was also awarded The Emilio Carranza Medal for Merit by the Mexican Government for valor
demonstrated during the devastating earthquake in Mexico City in 1985. He later became a pilot for Continental Airlines.
A monument to Captain Emilio Carranza stands today in the Wharton State Forest area of the Pine Barrens (Tabernacle, NJ) where he crashed. The children of Mexico literally saved their pesos to pay a quarry in Coahilla for the stones used in the monument. Coahilla stone was used because Emilio Carranza was born there.
Every second Saturday in July, members of the local American Legion Post convene at the stone memorial – an obelisk carved with a falling eagle of Aztec design – to pay tribute to the Mexican aviator. In 1928 their members responded to the crash site and rescued his remains from the dense brush. Today, their Legion Post legacy is indelibly imbued with the spirit, life and mission of Emilio Carranza.
The foregoing factual and historical account is largely based upon my personal research and the limited source material about Captain Carranza. An excellent Spanish text on the subject is (translated) The Mexican Lindbergh, 2011, by Rosa Mercedes Pujols and Leticia Roa Nixon (AuthorHouse Publishing 11/17/2011; ISBN # 978-1-4634-5277-3 and ISBN# 978-1-4634-5276-6). Also see The Flight of the Excelsior by Rafael J. DelVecchio, http://www.flightofexcelsior.net. Wikipedia also summarizes Captain Carranza’s life in a thorough fashion.
HISTORICAL COMMENTARY:
The history of Captain Emilio Carranza’s life and death is stated above. Certain questions, however, remain about exactly what happened on June 12, 1928 when Carranza threw caution to the wind (literally) and gunned his Wright “Whirlwind” engine to take-off speed on that Roosevelt Field runway in Long Island, New York.
For a man disciplined and focused like few others, Captain Carranza’s foolhearty and impulsive departure – fully aware of the abominable weather conditions that faced him – was odd to say the least. What could have motivated him to such uncharacteristicly reckless behavior? Pilots like Carranza don’t go rogue. Why did he do it? Let’s re-examine the events of that day.
According to his flight plan documents, Captain Carranza was supposed to fly the Excelsior back to Mexico City from Roosevelt Field in Long Island, New York on July 9, 1928. Bad weather kept him grounded through July 12, 1928 – when he left in a hurry.
Thorough pre-flight inspections of the Excelsior had completed in anticipation of his leaving on the originally intended July 8, 1928 date. Special mechanics from the Wright Engine Company checked-out and signed off on the imposing “Whirlwind” R-790 Radial engine – the height of aviation technology at the time.
This same motor powered most US Navy and US Air Force planes and was considered the gold-standard of aviation engines. Indeed, Wright Whirlwind radials were manufactured under license by Continental Engine Company (USA / Canada), Hispano-Suiza in Europe (for the air forces of France, Spain and Italy) and the Shvestsov Aeroplane Design Bureau of the USSR.
Carranza’s airframe was a hand made Ryan Brougham – the same tried and true design that Lindbergh flew to Paris. Simply stated, in 1928 Carranza had the best “cutting edge” equipment that money could buy.
At Captain Carranza’s request the Excelsior’s fuel load was reduced from 430 gallons maximum to 390 in preparation for his return flight. This fuel reduction was based both on his calculations of what he’d need to complete his twenty-seven hour flight back to Mexico City and his concerns for the swarms of spectators that were at Roosevelt Field.
Out of an abundance of caution, Carranza announced on July 10, 1928 that his return flight would be “indefinately postponed” so that all the spectators would give up and leave.
Still, by July 12, 1928, severe weather warnings continued to be broadcast for the Northeast by the US Weather Bureau. Electrical storms were expected for days as part of a summer weather system that had stalled over the East Coast region.
Roosevelt Field managers seemed visibly relieved when on July 12, 1928 Captain Carranza looked at the weather reports and agreed that conditions were not yet right – and left the airport to eat dinner with friends.
Although the restaurant where Captain Carranza dined on July 12 is not known, his dinner companions confirmed that they had no sooner ordered their food when a Western Union Telegram was delivered to their table for the famous aviator. They also confirmed that when Captain Carranza read the telegram his face hardened and his demeanor changed. He quickly excused himself and hurried back to Roosevelt Field, shoving the telegram deep into his jacket pocket.
We now know that during this dinner Captain Carranza received an urgent telegram from his Superior Officer in the Mexican Air force, General Joaquin Amaro. What little anecdotal evidence remains of the message are the words: “Leave immediately without further excuse or pretext…” Any other content is clouded in mystery.
To a military pilot, such a communique from a Commanding Officer is tantamount to an Order – whether or not the word “Order” is expressly inscribed. It would have to be obeyed. Captain Emilio Carranza did what he had to do.
We must ask, what need did Mexico have of him that would have required Captain Carranza to risk life and limb and fly home on a night that presented impossible weather conditions? Bear in mind – the Excelsior had no radio, no GPS or other navigation equipment. All that Carranza had was dead-reckoning, a compass and some slim hopes that sufficient postal beacons would be visible to guide his way through the atrocious weather exploding around him. Alone. For twenty-seven hours. All the way back to Mexico City. Piece of cake, right?
It appears that there is more to the death of Captain Emilio Carranza than meets the historical eye. Let us look at Mexico, circa 1928.
Mexico has been through twenty years of unrelenting violence, insurrections, political killings and “Generals” coming and going, barely functioning as “provisional presidents” and corrupt, ineffective leaders. Finally, a wily, tough-as-nails – but unquestionably loyal – Mexican becomes President in the federal elections of 1924: Plutarco Calles.
His road to the Presidency hasn’t been easy. He fought in the Mexican Revolution and was a supporter of Francisco Madero, a leader of the Constitutionalist Party who was deposed by Victoriano Huerta. Huerta was murdered in 1913. Mexican politics at this time is unrelentingly violent with powerful factions vying for control backed by guns for hire. The one hope for stable government is the Constitutionalist Party, who, after a tumultuous series of years in Mexico, takes national power in 1917.
In that year, Venustiano Carranza, Governor of Coahuila, is elected President of Mexico . The scion of a rich, land owning family in Coahuila, President Carranza is a strict Constitutionalist, committed to redistribution of land, agricultural reform and curtailing the influence of the Catholic Church in Mexico. He is a true reformer in the classical mold of progressive Mexican politics. More hard years follow.
In 1920, President Venustiano Carranza is assassignated in Mexico City. Interestingly enough, a favorite of the United States – Alvaro Obregon – becomes president after Carranza’s assassination. Generous financial and trade support of the USA unquestionaby tips the Mexican electoral scales in favor of Obregon and his “pro Yanqui” agenda. US President Calvin Coolidge sends US Naval Warships to blockade the Gulf Coast to prevent rebels from getting arms to wage an insurgent struggle against Obregon, virtually assuring his success.
Obregon’s support of US Oil concessions in Mexico apparently does the trick and he is soon sworn in as President. But his promises of economic prosperity for average Mexicans, however, are never made good. By 1924 Obregon’s lucky streak is running out. A true Mexcian who is no pawn of United States is ready to make his move and reclaim the soul of Mexico. And he has big ideas.
Plutarco Elias Calles, a “Constitutionalist” and political ally of President Carranza (Carranza had appointed him Secretary of Industry, Commerce and Labor in 1919) is elected President in 1924.
One of the first duties President Calles undertakes is to completely reform the military services of Mexico. After years of “Revolutionary” uprisings, insurrections and armed conflict, President Calles believes Mexico should have a professional army and air force, like the United States and Germany, with officers trained in formal academies.
The stakes are huge. Dwight Morrow, US Ambassador to Mexico, has already made it clear to the American press that the USA is interested in Mexican oil and intends to “force” concessions on their Southern neighbors.
The specter of Mexico’s “Generals” – essentially warlords from key provinces that were awarded their military ranks by political friends or rich allies – backing some “Yanqui” instigated gambit to steal Mexico’s oil torments President Calles . His solution is bold and resolute. Calles appoints an equally hard-headed Mexican Constitutionalist and loyal soldier, Joaquin Amaro, to impliment broad-based military reforms. This upends the military like an earthquake.
President Calles promotes legistlation mandating that all Mexican military officers must have professional training in order to rise in rank. New laws severely punish corruption in the Military ranks and sets mandatory retirement ages for officers to ensure a healthy flow of new talent into higher positions.
The end result is – even if some of the most powerful Generals can’t be immediately forced out of the way – they find themselves surrounded by subordinates who are themselves products of new regulations and loyal to a Mexico that promises equitable treatment. Finally, President Calles convinces the Mexican Legistlature to expand and transform the Colegio Militar into Mexico’s version of West Point, creating an insitution truly worthy of Mexico’s now-professional military.
Perhaps the greatest – and most controversial – policy of President Calles, however, is his single-minded determination to enforce Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution of 1917, which provides that (in accordance with traditional Spanish laws) everything under the soil (oil and minerals) of Mexico is property of the state.
This law threatens possessory rights of US and European Oil Companies in Mexico that were previously “reserved” by President Obregon for US companies. The reaction of President Calvin Coolidge and the United States Government is swift and vitriolic. US Secretary of State Frank Kellogg publicly brands Calles a “Communist”. Editorials in the New York Times turn anti-Mexican and and refer to President Calles as a “Bolshevik”.
The Mexican Supreme Court upholds Calles’ efforts and to this day Mexican petroleum and mineral rights are the exclusive property of the Mexican people, subject to legally bulletproof Federal controls. In 1938 Petroleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) is created – a state-owned company owning and managing all the oil reserves of Mexico.
Finally, President Calles leads a vigorous effort to restrain the significant and culturally oppressive power of the Catholic Church in Mexico. Although not anit-cleric, Calles always pushes for a more secular approach in Mexican affairs. He also revises the Mexican Legal Code to recognize the rights of illegitimate children and equalize their status before the law to offspring born of married unions (Plutarco Calles was himself an illegitimate child).
One conclusion we must draw, then, from a historical perspective is this: President Calles makes enemies in Mexico. Mexico has always had a volatile political culture, fueled by “Revolutionaries” with guns, Byzantine political alliances and exterior pressures. In the 1920’s, “Yanqui” oil interests and European Bankers are squeezing Mexico hard. Plutarco Elias Calles’ personal and political life is fraught with danger. Powerful people probably want him dead – or, at the very least, out of the way.
What does this have to do with Captain Emilio Carranza, Mexico’s hero aviator and favorite son?
Let’s look at where he came from – and who he came from…..
Emilio Carranza Rodriguez was born in Villa Ramos Arizpe, Coahuila, Mexico on December 9, 1905. His father, Sebastian Carranza, was a land owner and, later, Military Attache at the Mexican Consulate in New York. His mother was Maria Dolores Rodriguez Gomez, also of an old land owning family. Emilio was fluent in English. He attended Military Academy (Colegio Militar) in Mexico City (established by President Calles) and graduated in 1924 with Honors. He married Maria Luisa Corbala in 1928, four months before he taking his flight to the USA. A son, Emilio Carranza, Jr., was born after Emilio Carranza’s crash into the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. The child died at age six of appendicitis.
Emilio Carranza was the great-nephew of President Venustiano Carranza of Mexico (1917), founder and standard-bearer of the Constitutionalist Party. Venustiano Carranza literally fought against Pancho Villa in the Mexican Revolutionary wars. Emilio’s father, Sebastian Carranza, was a Military Attache. An uncle, General Alberto Salinas Carranza, established the Mexican School of Aviation.
The Carranza clan was certainly well-connected.
Captain Carranza was an educated, charismatic gentleman, courageous and patriotic. He was a man the Constitutionalist Political Party would have earmarked as a future contender – someone who the Mexican people could easily embrace and elect to public office. His presence at President Calles’ side was potent political medicine and lent gravitas to controversial Calles administration policies . Captain Carranza was, in 1928, a golden boy.
So why did Captain Emilio Carranza drop his fork, turn away from his dinner and fire up the Excelsior on July 12, 1928? Why did he brave weather no sane pilot would take on?
My theory: Carranza was a Patriot. His father, Sebastian Carranza, was Military Attache at the Mexican Consulate in Manhattan and could have easily “arranged” for a diplomatic faux pas or visa complication to retain his son in New York until weather conditions improved.
Volatile Mexican politics reared its ugly head. The popular Pilot Carranza was needed to prevent yet another Revolution. President Calles probably had been tipped off that a coup d’etat was afoot – and was hurredly marshalling his assets. As Emilio Carranza’s Commandante, General Amaro could have easily brought his star aviator home pronto, with no eyebrows raised in Mexico’s corridors of power. His order would not have “tipped off” the opposition that their treachery was suspected.
A final clue can be seen in President Calles’ “respectfully” declining US President Calvin Coolidge’s offer to bring Emilio Carranza’s body back to Mexico “with full military honors” on board the USS Florida battleship. The last thing President Calles wanted was Mexicans to see an American warship docked in Veracruz offloading the remains of Mexico’s greatest aviator.
An American Navy dreadnaught in a Mexican port…..would it perhaps be coincidentally timed to arrive at the very moment of an uprising or coup d’etat wherein USA “interests” would have to be conveniently “protected” by backing those opposing Calles? Was this some ruse cloaked in the earlier “gunboat diplomacy” of Teddy Roosevelt’s time to try and heist Mexican oil rights in contravention of Article 27 of Mexico’s Constitution? It was all too close for comfort. In international relations there is always an ulterior motive – especially when black gold is involved.
President Calles had vivid memories of US Navy Gunships off Mexico’s shoreline supporting America’s “friend” President Obregon in 1923. With the New York Times already calling him a “bolshevik” for his policy of enforcing Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution of 1917 (All Mexican resources belong to the Mexican state) and US Secretary of State Kellogg screaming foul play over oil, President Calles wanted nothing to do with the Yanquis.
Calles’ cool response to Coolidge’s USS Florida offer made sense. Transporting Carranza’s body by train from Laredo, Texas through Mexico was the better bet for the hero’s homeland. A whistle-stop train tour of Mexico’s villages allowed citizens to take part in sending off their hero aviator to the great beyond – with no “Yanqui” overbearing or posturing.
Emilio Carranza was a Mexican hero and would never have turned his back on those in his homeland who needed his help. He knew President Calles was the right man to lead his country. His heart was in Mexico. He was loyal to his core. That is why – weather be damned – Emilio Carranza flew home on July 12, 1928.
Vaya con Dios, Capitan.
Copyright, 2021, Jon Croft, USA
