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Around 86 years ago, a German airship, the Hindenburg, crashed in Lakehurst, New Jersey. The disaster still resonates, thanks to newsreel footage and the made by radio broadcaster .

But the Hindenburg wasn鈥檛 the only airship that crashed in the United States in the period between World War I and World War II.

Northwest settlers created DIY government in 1843

And throughout the 1920s and 1930s, a mostly-forgotten man from Seattle was deeply involved in America鈥檚 efforts to develop 鈥渓ighter-than-air鈥� aviation through balloons and helium-filled, rigid airships.

He helped design the airship Shenandoah, and was serving as an officer on board when that giant Navy dirigible broke apart over Ohio in September 1925, and he helped guide safely to earth the forward section of the crippled craft.

He served as an officer on the Navy airship Los Angeles, and flew on the Akron and the Macon.

He was at Lakehurst, New Jersey the day after the Hindenburg disaster in May 1937, and took part in the Navy鈥檚 initial investigation into the crash.

But for some reason, the high-flying aviation exploits of Seattle native Roland G. Mayer have remained in the background, even right here in his hometown.

Roland G. Mayer鈥檚 grandson Kevin Vogel owns an art gallery and lives in Dallas.

鈥淗e also was a glider pilot . . . [and he had a] glider license, actually, that was signed by ,鈥� Vogel said. 鈥淪o that will give you an idea of how long ago he was involved in all of this.鈥�

Vogel says America鈥檚 鈥渓ighter-than-air鈥� aviators have been mostly forgotten by history, as has the original military purposes of airships 鈥� to patrol the oceans for enemy ships and serve as skyborne aircraft carriers. This eventually proved impractical, dangerous and often deadly.

Ian Ross, who studied Mayer and other airship officers for a he wrote about Ross鈥� grandfather Herbert Wiley, says that a small group of Americans were at the heart of this country鈥檚 military airship program in the 1920s and 1930s.

鈥淚n the core of that were this handful of men, and the women they were married to, that really made the whole thing go,鈥� Ross said. 鈥淭hey were extremely brave, because [the airships] were untested. I mean, think about the winds aloft and how these things are very fragile.鈥�

And Roland G. Mayer, says Ian Ross, was one of these brave men.

Lee Corbin, a retired airline pilot and Air Force officer who lives in Pierce County, came across Mayer鈥檚 name several years ago when he was researching the 1924 Pacific Northwest visit of the US Navy鈥檚 Shenandoah, the first American-designed and built airship.

Corbin began digging into Mayer鈥檚 history, and found out that his family was owner of , as well as the Mayer Shoe Company in their native Milwaukee.

Corbin says that Mayer graduated from the University of Washington with an engineering degree in 1917. This led directly to a job for Mayer and two classmates. Their employer was the airplane company that had been launched the year before by Bill Boeing.

The job with Boeing didn鈥檛 last for Mayer, but it turns out he was in pretty good company with the other two classmates who did stick around.

鈥淲hat’s interesting is the three names鈥� of the UW graduates who went to work for Boeing in 1917, said Lee Corbin. 鈥淢ayer was one of them, Claire Egtvedt was the other, and [the other one was] named Phillip G. Johnson.鈥�

Incredibly, and would each go on to high-level leadership positions at Boeing.

鈥淪o there’s no telling what Mayer would’ve done鈥� if he鈥檇 stayed, Corbin said.

But Mayer had other plans. Corbin says Roland Mayer worked at Boeing only for a few weeks before heading east to work as an engineer for the Navy in Philadelphia.

In Philadelphia, Mayer helped design and build the Shenandoah. He then became a Naval officer and was aboard when the airship headed off on its cross-country trip in 1924. One of the goals of the trip was to test the viability of flying the ship to the arctic.

鈥淚n order to test this theory of long-distance flight for a dirigible, they set up a planned trip to come up here [from Lakehurst, New Jersey] to Seattle by way of Fort Worth and San Diego,鈥� Corbin said. 鈥淪o they built three different mooring masts. One down in Fort Worth, which I think now is a parking lot for a warehouse down there. And they built one at what’s now called 聽[near San Diego]. And I’m pretty sure that one is gone because of all the construction [from] when they were building the airfields.鈥�

鈥淏ut interestingly enough, the one that was built at [what was then known as] Camp Lewis is now on a portion of McChord Air Force Base, and it’s out in an area that was left undeveloped all these years,鈥� Corbin said.

Corbin, with his Air Force connections, was able to investigate what remains of the mooring mast.

鈥淭here’s actually still a foundation down there if you know where to look you can find it,鈥� Corbin said.

Photos that Corbin took show the concrete footing of the mast and the guy wires, as well as remains of the foundation of the shed built to service airships.

鈥淭he mooring mast was only used once,鈥� Corbin said, referring to the arrival of the聽Shenandoah in 1924.

And the visit of the enormous craft was hugely popular with local residents. The Shenandoah was 680 feet long, and it was seen by countless people as it flew around Puget Sound during its day-long visit. Then, thousands of civilians converged on Camp Lewis to get a closer look at the airship when it spent part of the day tied to the mooring mast.

But airships weren鈥檛 exactly a safe and reliable form of travel. Less than a year after the Shenandoah visited Camp Lewis, the ship met its untimely end in a thunderstorm over the Buckeye State.

Roland Mayer鈥檚 grandson Kevin Vogel has studied airships and his grandfather鈥檚 role in their development and in the crash. He鈥檚 grateful to Lee Corbin for the research Corbin has shared with Vogel and with Vogel鈥檚 cousin Andrea Mayer, who lives in British Columbia.

鈥淭his era was a period in aviation that most people don鈥檛 know anything about, and it鈥檚 absolutely fascinating,鈥� Vogel said.

Vogel says his grandfather, who passed away in the 1970s, didn鈥檛 talk much about his airship days, including the 1925 wreck.

鈥淎ctually, he was very close-mouthed about that timeframe and the incidents related,鈥� Vogel said.

But from Corbin鈥檚 research and through his own reading, Vogel has learned exactly what role his grandfather played in the life 鈥� and death 鈥� of the ship.

鈥淏asically, he was a keel officer of the Shenandoah and he was responsible for the engineering aspects of the ship,鈥� Vogel said. 鈥淎nything that happened to that ship, if there was a motor that went out or something like that, he was responsible for getting the guys together to get it working again. That’s what he did.鈥�

To hear author Ian Ross tell it, when the Shenandoah crashed, it was unlike any aviation tragedy before or since.

鈥淚t hit extreme turbulence over Ohio and broke into basically three pieces,鈥� Ross said. 鈥淎nd the control car, with most of the officers, dropped away and fell to earth and killed everybody [inside],鈥� Ross said.

鈥淭he upper section broke into two pieces, and both of those pieces floated to earth,鈥� Ross said. 鈥淭he rear section floated down and dragged across, and most of the people that were in that section survived.鈥�

For the six crew members in the front section 鈥� the section where Roland G. Mayer found himself 鈥� it was a little more complicated.

鈥淚 personally believe very strongly that [Roland Mayer] played a vital role in the survival of that front section,鈥� Ross said.

When the ship broke apart, the front section floated free and gained altitude, and the men aboard had to pilot it as if it were, essentially, a rudderless balloon.

Mayer鈥檚 grandson Vogel says that Roland Mayer and the other crewmembers somehow managed to decrease their altitude. Then, they dropped a line down far enough to touch the ground in the rural Ohio countryside.

鈥淭hey dragged the line down on the ground and apparently it went over the roof of a farmer’s house and the farmer came out and they kept yelling to him to run ahead and tie the line off on a tree so it would hold the ship in place,鈥� Vogel said. 鈥淥nce that happened, someone shimmied down the line and asked the farmer to get a shotgun so they could start shooting the gas cells of the aircraft鈥� to release the helium and bring the section of the ship safely down.

A total of 14 men died in the wreck of the Shenandoah, but remarkably, 29 survived.

After the crash, Mayer remained involved in the airship program, and even took part in long-distance balloon travel with famous balloonist . Mayer then served as an officer aboard the airship Los Angeles.

Rigid airships were ultimately made obsolete by advances in fixed-wing, heavier-than-air aviation, and several high-profile deadly disasters didn鈥檛 do much to promote their viability. Two additional Navy airships were destroyed in storm-related crashes in the 1930s. The Akron crashed into the Atlantic Ocean in 1933 killing 73, and then the Macon crashed off the coast of California in 1935 killing two. Still, during World War II, the U.S. Navy used dozens of smaller, non-rigid inflatable blimps for patrol and reconnaissance.

When the hydrogen-filled Hindenburg exploded in flames on May 6, 1937, at the Naval Air Station in Lakehurst, New Jersey, Roland G. Mayer wasn鈥檛 there. says that Mayer was likely in Philadelphia, where the Navy had other aviation facilities.

鈥淗e was not there for the crash, I鈥檓 sure he kicked himself that he missed it, in a sense,鈥� Grossman said.

Mayer is pictured at Lakehurst in a news photo taken the day after the tragedy, as a member of a hastily organized Navy-led inquiry into what happened. Dan Grossman says this group was only active for a few days before the US Commerce Department took over the official Hindenburg investigation that later published a report of its .

Though his airship days were over by the late 1930s, Roland Mayer spent several more years in aviation, eventually running Convair鈥檚 plant in Fort Worth, Texas where B-24 Liberator bombers were manufactured during World War II.

After the war, Mayer retired, and he and his wife bought a nearly 400-acre ranch north of Fort Worth.

Grandson Kevin Vogel says that Mayer didn鈥檛 dwell on his airship exploits.

鈥淚t’s not like he had mementoes all around the house of his Navy days. Not at all. It was like he had moved on,鈥� Vogel said.

Though he was an early Boeing employee, aviation pioneer, Navy veteran, hero of the American airship era, and builder of World War II bombers, Roland G. Mayer left all that behind for pursuits much closer to the ground.

鈥淗e would鈥檝e been perfectly happy if he had died on his tractor, out in the field tilling the soil,鈥� Vogel said.

You can hear Feliks every Wednesday and Friday morning on Seattle鈥檚 Morning News with Dave Ross and Colleen O鈥橞rien, read more from him鈥�here, and subscribe to The Resident Historian Podcast聽here. If you have a story idea, please email Feliks鈥�here.

Editor’s Note: This story was originally published May, 5, 2017