“Flying through an eclipse, from a flying point of view, is just an ordinary job of work;” Or, How the Royal Canadian Air Force captured the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925 – and some extra stuff about that event, part 3
Greetings and salutations, my reading friend and welcome to yet another part of our article on the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925.
You will of course remember that we have yet to reach the climactic moment of that celestial event, visible in a narrow, 160 or so kilometre (100 or so miles) wide, I think, band of southern Ontario. And yes, that is indeed my fault.
Now, yours truly would love to tell you that conditions were perfect in Hamilton, Ontario, or Long’s Corners, Ontario, on the morning of 24 January 1925. Unfortunately, that was far from the case. Clouds spoiled everything, to the great disappointment of the scientists present on site who knew very well that clouds early in the day at that time of year were a definite possibility.
Several of the scientists, John Waller Melson, a Canadian lecturer in surveying at the University of Toronto of… Toronto, Ontario, among them, talked to the people, both locals and from elsewhere, who had gathered at Long’s Corners, explaining what the various instruments were used for.
When asked when he would try to watch another eclipse, the renowned Canadian astronomer / physicist / professor mentioned in the 1st and 2nd parts of this article, yes, the one based at the University of Toronto’s Department of Astronomy, Clarence Augustus Chant, stated that he had no plans. “There will be a total eclipse in August 1932, at Anticosti, said he, but that is a long time in the future.”
By the way, that eclipse took place on 31 August 1932. Oddly enough, the zone of totality was nowhere near Anticosti Island, in the gulf of the St. Lawrence River, something you would know, my reading friend, had you perused the 3 part article on that event that yours truly uploaded in September 2022.
In Ottawa, Ontario, at the Dominion Observatory, at the edge of the Department of Agriculture’s Central Experimental Farm (Hello, WK and MMcC!), the Belgian Canadian astronomer and head of the physical astronomy department at the observatory, François Charles Henroteau, informed journalists that only 3 photographs had been taken, and that none of them was worth publishing.
The cloudy skies also spoiled the fun of ordinary people in Hamilton, Ottawa and Toronto, as well as in Montréal, Québec, etc.
Would you believe that the management of some of the banks which had branches in Toronto had intended to really spoil the fun of the local nogoodniks by locking their safes and vaults until after the end of the eclipse? The usual transfers of money, a million or so dollars it was said (typed?), a sum which corresponded to $ 17 750 000 or so in 2025 currency, were done an hour earlier than usual, just to be safe.
As well, every downtown jewelry shop was closed when the celestial event occurred, and no valuable item could be seen in downtown Toronto shop windows.
For some reason or other, Toronto’s nogoodniks stayed home – or watched the eclipse.
As was to be expected, there were areas in Ontario where people had a good view of that celestial event, and this both inside and outside the zone of total darkness. The good people of London, located as they were in the zone of total darkness, saw this for example…

Two views of the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925 as seen in London, Ontario. The photograph on the left showed the Moon a few minutes before totality, while the one on the right showed the Moon moving away after that totality. Anon., “Views of Today’s Eclipse Seen From London.” The London Evening Free Press, 24 January 1925, 1.
And here are the photographs, seen here in negative form, that Joseph Demers, a lecturer in physics at the Université de Montréal of… Montréal, took on 24 January, in… Montréal.

Some of the photographs of the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925, seen here in negative form, which were taken in Montréal by Joseph Demers, a lecturer in physics at the Université de Montréal of… Montréal, Québec. Anon., “La récente éclipse du soleil à Montréal.” La Presse, 31 January 1925, 24.
And yes, my kind reading friend who has perused all the issues of our blog / bulletin / thingee, Demers was mentioned in a September 2022 issue of that wonderful publication.
Mind you, the clouds also spoiled the fun of many Ontario newspapers which, as you might have guessed, had greatly boosted the interest of their readers. Now finding themselves with not a whole lot to say or show for all that hoopla, they did as best they could. They published detailed accounts of what the scientists had been able to accomplish or else concocted human interest stories.
This being said (typed?), some University of Toronto students took it all in stride, stating that “Prima Donna Helio Solus cancelled her engagement with the university Saturday morning after a few brief bows.”
This, by the way, was what those disappointed folks would have seen had clouds not spoiled their fun…

Some phases of the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925 taken, err, somewhere. Anon., “How Eclipse Photos Were Made.” Victoria Daily Times, 31 January 1925, 12.
Incidentally, conditions were excellent on the campus of Yale University, in New Haven, Connecticut, where a well-known Canadian amateur astronomer / Presbyterian minister mentioned in the 1st part of this article, namely Daniel Brand Marsh, had set up shop.
And yes, the 10 or so scientists aboard the United States Navy rigid airship USS Los Angeles completed their observations in ideal conditions, off the East coast of the United States. Well, ideal besides the very cold temperature. If truth be told, the 10 or so hours spent in the unheated main nacelle of that airship mentioned in the 1st part of this article were a painful experience.
The USS Shenandoah, mentioned in that same 1st part, did not fly that day. Indeed, it could not have flown at all. You see, the United States Navy’s supply of helium was apparently so limited in late 1924, early 1925 that it could fill the gas cells of only one of its two giant rigid airships at a time. I kid you not.
Mind you, an aircraft of the United States Marine Corps, possibly a Martin MT twin-engine torpedo bomber fitted with a radio set to broadcast what was taking place in the heavens on behalf of North American Newspaper Alliance Incorporated, an American newspaper syndicate with Canadian members, London Evening Advertiser of… London for example, remained firmly on the ground. You see, the exceptionally cold weather at the time had frozen solid its water-cooled engines, but back to Toronto and the core of our story.
A journalist working for The Toronto Daily Star was one of the countless Torontonians whose enjoyment of the eclipse was shattered by the cloud cover. You see, he had taken to the sky to watch the show, but let us see how that came to be.

Flying Officer Arthur Lawrence Morfee and the camera, mounted on an Avro Type 504 aircraft, that he used to photograph the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925. Anon., “Daring Canadian Airman Who Photographed the Eclipse To-Day.” The Toronto Daily Star, 24 January 1925, 8.
Early in the morning of 24 January, two ski-equipped Avro Type 504s of the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) left Camp Borden Air Station, in Ontario, and flew south, toward Hamilton. Aboard those aircraft were, on the one hand,
- an English Canadian pilot who happened to be the officer in charge of flying training at Camp Borden Air Station, Flight Lieutenant George Eric Brookes, and
- an English Canadian pilot / aerial photographer stationed at Camp Borden Air Station, Flying Officer Arthur Lawrence Morfee, and, on the other hand,
- a Newfoundland Canadian pilot who happened to be an instructor at Camp Borden Air Station, Flight Lieutenant Roy Stanley “Bill” Grandy, and
- a civilian observer from The Toronto Daily Star of… Toronto, the Irish Canadian journalist Frederick Samuel Gilmore Griffin.
You will of course remember, assiduous reader of this astounding blog / bulletin / thingee that you are, that Grandy was mentioned in an August 2024 issue of that publication.
Before I forget, Morfee and some colleagues had to design a special camera mount which would allow him to photograph the eclipse. Rather than pointing downward as was the case when photographing objects on the ground, for aerial mapping purposes, said mount pointed more or less horizontally.
And no, Morfee would not use the automatic photography system of his Fairchild K-3 photo mapping aerial camera. He would operate that high performance device manually.
When Brookes, Grandy, Morfee and, by the looks of it, Griffin as well went to bed, the sky was clear and the air cold. When they woke up, there were clouds in the sky and it was still cold.
The general opinion at Camp Borden Air Station was that the cloud cover would be dense and reach a high altitude. Given the capabilities of the Type 504s assigned to the operation, few pilots expected that their crews would be able to punch through the clouds and see the Sun. Even the more powerful machine piloted by Brookes would be handicapped, given the need to carry the heavy camera Morfee would be using.
A 65 or so kilometres/hour (40 or so miles/hour) wind blowing from the South was an added concern. You see, it would cut nearly in half the speed of the Type 504s over the snowy ground below. The two aircraft would have to leave early in order to reach the zone of total darkness in time.
As you might have imagined, Griffin had not gone to Camp Borden Air Station with all the clothing required for his aerial jaunt. A Flight Lieutenant George John Blackmore, a Canadian, I think, was kind enough to provide him with everything he would need.
To quote Griffin,
I had a Sidcot suit, fur lined. On my feet were four pairs of heavy socks, and a pair of moccasins, a very fine rig for winter flying. I wore “umpteen” sweaters, a fur-lined flying cap with a face mask and a muffler, not to mention fur-trimmed winter goggles, completed the outfit. And a pair of badger gauntlets, with ordinary woollen mittens inside.
To quote Griffin once again, “I was virtually hermetically sealed, and in fact, at no time on the trip did I get unpleasantly cold.”
In that regard, the following photograph might perhaps be on interest.

Two unidentified officers of the Royal Canadian Air Force clambering on board a typical British-made First World War era (1918?) Avro Type 504 on skis, and this no later than 1926. The photograph might have been taken at Camp Borden Air Station, Ontario. Library and Archives Canada, HC-1268.
And you have a question, do you not, my concerned reading friend? Were Griffin and the trio of RCAF officers wearing parachutes? Err, a good question. I have no idea. Err, I presume they did. This being said (typed?), however, it was likely that Griffin had never worn, let alone used a parachute before. Worse still, coming down in a parachute when faced with a 65 or so kilometres/hour (40 or so miles/hour) wind would not have been a fun experience.
Before I forget, during their flight, Grandy and Griffin were able to communicate via a speaking tube / voice tube.
Was the device in question a Gosport tube, you ask, my wingnutty reading friend? An astute question. It might indeed have been a speaking tube of that type.
You will remember of course that the Gosport tube had been tested in June 1917 at a training squadron based near… Gosport, England, and this under the supervision of Major Alan John Lance Scott, the New Zealand officer of the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) of the British Army responsible for the development of that device, and…
What is it, my outraged reading friend? Another RFC officer, an Englishman this time, Major Robert Raymond Smith Barry, was the brain behind the Gosport tube, you state, quite strongly? Well, actually, no, he seemingly was not. Indeed, the role played by Smith Barry in the development of the Gosport system of flying training, used around the globe after the First World War, has seemingly been exaggerated. Apologies for bursting your bubble, but back to our story.
It went without saying that Brookes, Grandy and Morfee probably wore amounts of clothing which were comparable to those worn by Griffin.
To answer the question which is coalescing in your little noggin, a Sidcot suit was a one-piece step-in style flying suit which had been invented in 1916 by Frederick Sidney Cotton, an Australian pilot serving in the Royal Naval Air Service of the Royal Navy. As you well know, that gentleman was mentioned in an August 2024 issue of our blog / bulletin / thingee.
And yes, my cold sensitive reading friend, the Type 504 was an open cockpit aircraft devoid of heating system.
Grandy took off early in the morning of 24 January to see if his aircraft was functioning properly. The commanding officer at Camp Borden Air Station, Wing Commander Lloyd Samuel Breadner, was not impressed by the way the engine initially performed but everything soon smoothed out.
As confident as Grandy said he was, his final words before takeoff were, and I quote, if one was to believe Griffin, “Have another machine tuned up and ready, if we come down.” How reassuring…
In any event, Grandy and Griffin left Camp Borden Air Station slightly before 8 in the morning, I think, slightly more than an hour or so before the eclipse would reach its climax. Brookes and Morfee took off 5 or so minutes later. Visibility was fairly good and all was well. A stiff wind blowing from the south proved so strong, however, that Grandy and Brookes (independently?) decided to fly low, to escape it.
Brookes’ machine being faster than that of Grandy, he caught up with it 15 to 20 minutes after takeoff. Brookes moved his Type 504 so that Grandy would see it. Within 5 or so minutes, Grandy and Griffin lost sight of Brookes’ machine as the latter climbed into the clouds.
As the two aircraft moved southward, the engine of the Type 504 piloted by Grandy began to misbehave. Grandy had to land about halfway between Camp Borden Air Station and Toronto, near Holland Landing, Ontario. To his great displeasure, Griffin thus found himself out of the picture.
And yes, the Type 504 in question was a British-made First World War era (1918?) machine which had arrived in Canada in 1920, I think. The other Type 504, by the way, was one of the two brand-new British-made aircraft of that type which had been delivered to the RCAF in September and October 1924.
And this is as good a time as any to conclude this penultimate part of our article on the total eclipse of the Sun of 24 January 1925.
See ya later.