H. G. Hawker, Airman: His life and work

PREFACE

With his words still fresh in my memory, that, should anything ever happen to him, the one thing to do was to get work which would occupy my mind, I took upon myself the task of writing my husband’s life. I have been encouraged by many letters from people suggesting my undertaking this work, and, thus encouraged, I present this book.

I make no apologies for the errors of style, the technicalities of which I know nothing, but I have tried in simple language to convey some idea of the great work and spirit of one who attempted much, and, although crowned by few successes, was never for one moment discouraged as a loser.

I leave others to judge the merits of his works, but I leave to no one but myself the disclosure of the real goodness of his nature. This book being, more or less, a record of his achievements, it has been difficult to convey any idea of his true worth, which did not stand in anything he did, but in the firmness with which he held to what he considered was right. This sense of honour, not cultivated but innate, kept the fame, which he earned, from detracting in any way from the integrity of his character, and he always remained to the end his cheery, unaffected self.

His buoyant nature did not admit of defeat. I have never seen him disheartened and never has he given in. He always did his very best, and was ever ready to try again when that best was not good enough.

At the height of his popularity he declined good financial offers for lecturing tours in England and the States, which would have kept him for the rest of his life. Money could not divert him from his calling.

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His goodness of heart would never let him turn away anyone in distress, and, in this, lack of discrimination played a big part.

Many people came to the house after his attempt to fly the Atlantic, with pitiful tales of woe. One, a musician, who said he had fallen on bad times, wanted a loan of £10, stating that he was a member of the Queen’s Hall Orchestra, in which he played a mandoline. He got his £10, but I do not believe the mandoline has ever figured amongst the instruments in the Queen’s Hall Orchestra.

A few days later another musician, very probably a friend of the first, arrived, but Harry said he would not see him. However, he was so persistent that Harry saw him at last, and heard his tale, which was to the effect that unless he could get a certain sum of money he would be sold up the next day, and, rather than that, he intended taking his life that night, although he had a wife and child. With tears, he asked if his life was not worth the few pounds, which he would surely return within a month. He received his cheque, left some of his own compositions for me to try, which he said he would call for when he repaid his debt, and was never seen again.

It would seem that Harry’s perfections have been exploited and his imperfections ignored, but I find the first so easy, my pen willingly covering many pages, and the second, not irksome, since his very imperfections were interesting, but hard to define.

Before our marriage he warned me of his terrible temper, which, he said, appeared at intervals, making him for a short time an unapproachable individual, and advised me that on such occasions I should leave him completely alone. I never witnessed one of these outbreaks and doubt if they ever occurred. Fits of irritability would seize him, sometimes for little or no apparent cause, and at others under great provocation, and while they lasted he was a very trying companion. But he would not be irritated for long; and these, I think, must have been his fits of terrible temper.

If neglect of his financial responsibilities, through disinterestedness, was a fault, then he had a big one. He was as unmercenary 

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as it is possible for a normal man to be. He liked to have money in order to procure the necessaries of his hobby, but the matter of procuring proper payment for the work he did he left entirely in the hands of those for whom he was working, to pay him what they thought fit. And having received the money, the proper investment of it he ignored, until he was reminded, leaving his money idle in the bank. In his last year of life he began to look at these things more seriously, as his outgoings had increased and his income diminished, and, with the responsibilities of a company under his own name, probably another year would have made him a different man—a business man perhaps, but never so great a man.

I should like to mention here a trouble we often encountered and which was a great worry to us both, however we tried to ignore it.

I refer to the people who persist in suggesting that a man with dependants should not continually risk his life unless they were securely provided for. How many a man has been asked upon marriage to give up his work, if it happens to be of a precarious nature, and the firm, instead of having made progress with the new partner, has decayed because that partner did not face the risks the old one was willing to sustain? Never will I understand why a man of a hazardous career should have to choose between that career and the comforts of his own home, and possible parenthood, because of a fearful dread of a premature parting which is allowed to exist.

Harry was a true optimist, and the way he came out of his many troubles warranted his optimism. It was so natural if he had a smash to know he was not hurt, or if he had any trouble it would be righted very quickly. This feeling is so real that, even now, apart from all religion, I know he has come up smiling somewhere and all is well with him.

MURIEL HAWKER.