He (Janin) is a poor man, evidently struggling for a sufficient income to meet his current living expenses. From what his witnesses testify, it is apparent that he was continuously striving to raise funds to develop his ideas, which were regarded by many as illusionary.
It also came out that Janin, in the years he was working on his water flyer, was the butt of many, who looked upon him as unbalanced by one idea.
Concerning the statements of Curtiss that his motors were not powerful enough, the Examiners said:
An excuse of this kind for failure to make flights could probably be advanced in good faith by hundreds of inventors of aeroplanes, who have been seeking patents for the last forty or fifty years.
Mr. Hill said yesterday that Janin’s success probably would make him wealthy; also that an order for 200 hydroaeroplanes is awaiting any manufacturer who can furnish security that they can be delivered. He said the order was from one of the belligerents in Europe, but did not know which.
“The Curtiss factory,” he said, “can turn out about ten planes a week at a cost of about $7,000 each. But no matter who turns them out they will have to pay a royalty to Mr. Janin.”
Albert S. Janin, cabinet maker, the other night took off his apron in the shop in which he has worked eight hours a day for the last fourteen years at Rosebank, Staten Island, walked up to the foreman and resigned his job.
He didn’t quit in a huff--a fact that was plainly attested by the manner in which the foreman wrung his hand and his fellow workmen crowded around him, their faces beaming.
“Congratulations, Al,” said the foreman simply. From somewhere in the crowd spoke one of Janin’s intimates:
“The ‘Bug’ has made good. Whaddaya know about that?”
“Well,” rejoined Janin, good-naturedly, “it no longer will be Janin, the cabinet maker, or Janin, the Bug, the dreamer and the impostor. I guess the handle to my name has been pretty firmly established as ‘Janin, inventor of the hydro-aeroplane.’”
And that night the modest little 5-room Janin flat was the scene of a celebration the like of which has never been seen at Rosebank. Most enthusiastic of the guests were men who, for the last ten years, have scoffed at the strange looking winged craft in the Janin back yard, which, the poor carpenter persisted, would some day be recognized by the patent office as the first flying boat.