And the story continues . . . .

Finished just in time for the Dominguez meet, the Dragonfly was patterned along the lines of Prof. Samuel Langley's highly controversial Aerodrome. It was a tandem-wing affair supported by a tricycle undercarriage of bicycle wheels. The pilot sat just ahead of the tail in a V-section fuselage composed of three spruce longerons with steel-tube cross members. The wings, featuring symmetrical airfoils, had steel-tube spars and wooden ribs. Smith's method of control was innovative in that the forward wings pivoted about a horizontal axes for elevation and had the ability to function differentially as ailerons for lateral control.

The Dragonfly quivered to the convulsive impulses of a vintage two cycle twin of unknown origin. The relic, rated at a doubtful dozen horsepower, drove a metal prop with adjustable-pitch blades at 1,200 rpm. The Dragonfly scooted madly along the ground, but Smith could not persuade it to unstick from Dominguez Plain. That, surely was a blessing. It would have been too tail-heavy to control and with sufficient h.p. might well have been young Edgar's undoing. As it happened, he was knocked senseless on the second day of the meet when he leaned too close to his own whirling propeller while turning the engine. Luckily, it was only a concussion and Smith was back the following week in time to see Paulhan, the Frenchman proclaimed the winner.

From the outset, Smith's ambition had been to engineer the smallest and least expensive practical airplane. Toward that end, he borrowed heavily from the work of Alberto Santos-Dumont, whose Demoiselle was the current sensation. Edgar, having won the patronage of Roy Knabenshue, had the benefit of the aeronaut's know-how and surplus hardware. This included an aircooled opposed twin designed for airship use by Knabenshue. It delivered 15 hp and only weighed 45 lbs. The resulting monoplane, similar to the Demoiselle but with greater wing area embodied a unique control system. Steering was by means of an overhead T-bar which operated both the rudder and elevator.

The history of Smith's under slung monoplane is sketchy at best. It is known to have flown successfully given the limitations of 15 hp. It was, however a crowd pleaser without equal for another reason. Exhibition flying, then as now could become monotonous to the spectators. Smith, knowing that his little monoplane lacked the performance to give a dazzling display of flying, elected to capitalize on the its maneuverability on the ground. The tricycle undercarriage, with its castoring tail wheel, permitted precise steering and Smith made the most of it at the second Dominguez Field meet in January, 1911.

While spectators were content to sit and watch other fliers perform, Smith's antics brought them to their feet the moment he trudged out from behind the grandstand toting the monoplane on his back. It only weighed about 160 lbs. Getting into the seat was a real challenge for Edgar, a big hulk of a fellow. It was more a matter of integrating himself with the apparatus of flight. No one used safety belts in those days and in Smith's case there was no real need. Once installed there was little danger of him falling out.

Smith's helper would step forward and swing the propeller with a flourish. The little monoplane would come alive belching flame and smoke. It would clear itself with a healthy backfire, shoot forward with a burst of power and careen madly around in circles, scattering everyone in its path. Then it would take up a collision course in the direction of the judges' stand. Just as a crash seemed imminent the craft would pirouette on one wheel and charge the press box, sending the news hawks scrambling. Inevitably a cop in hot pursuit would find himself the fugitive and his efforts to escape would have the crowd convulsed.

Smith's monoplane, having cleared the field, would take off and fly erratically from one end of Dominguez Field to the other, seldom gaining more than twenty feet. Finally, its gallon of fuel consumed, it would plop down in front of the grandstand, spin around in circles and come to a standstill upended on its nose. It was probably the original run-a-way, flying-farmer airplane act and the crowd loved it. Smith performed everyday of the meet and always got a standing ovation.

Aviation had yet to come of age and most of its early adherents were without independent means. They had their fling, found they could not support themselves in the flying game and went on to other things. So it was with Glendale's first aviator. Edgar married his childhood sweetheart and took a high school teaching post in Los Angeles. In 1917, he invented an aircraft muffler which was proven in tests carried out by Hall Scott Motors. Following the war, Smith remodeled a Navy surplus Boeing C-5 trainer, then built a light sport biplane while teaching school in Lancaster, California. It was wrecked when it overturned in a ditch after a trial hop. Smith flew for pleasure, but gave it up when his ailing wife asked him to. She was terminally ill and the thought of their two children being orphaned by another airplane accident was more than she could bear.