Wrong Way Corrigan and the Flight Nobody Could Prove Was On Purpose

On July 17, 1938, a pilot named Douglas Corrigan took off from Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn with a flight plan filed for Los Angeles, California. Twenty-eight hours and thirteen minutes later, he landed in Dublin, Ireland. His explanation: a malfunctioning compass. His nickname, which followed him for the rest of his life: Wrong Way Corrigan.

Who Was Douglas Corrigan?

Corrigan was no amateur stumbling into history. In 1927, at roughly 20 years old, he worked as a mechanic on the Ryan Airlines shop floor in San Diego - part of the crew that built Charles Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis. He put his hands on the airplane that made the first solo nonstop transatlantic crossing. That experience marked him permanently.

He earned his pilot’s license in 1929, then bought a used 1929 Curtiss Robin monoplane for $90. Depression-era money, significant for a working mechanic. He named her Sunshine.

What Made the Curtiss Robin Special - and Dangerous

The Curtiss Robin was a fabric-covered, high-wing monoplane with a radial engine. Practical and sturdy, but no record-setter. At $90, Corrigan’s example was firmly in wreck territory.

Over the next several years, he rebuilt it almost from scratch. Extra fuel tanks filled every spare inch of the cockpit - ahead of him, behind him, around him. He reinforced the fuselage. He swapped engines. By some accounts, fuel lines ran near the rudder pedals; if a fitting leaked, the pilot would know because he’d be sitting in avgas.

The airplane had one purpose: a solo crossing of the North Atlantic.

Why Did the CAA Refuse Corrigan Permission Three Times?

Corrigan applied to the Civil Aeronautics Authority for permission to fly solo across the Atlantic. The answer was no - the airplane wasn’t airworthy for an over-ocean crossing.

He went back, worked on it, and applied again. No.

He applied a third time. No.

The CAA was not going to authorize a solo ocean crossing in a patched-together 1929 Curtiss Robin, regardless of how many modifications Corrigan made. That door was closed.

How Did Corrigan Get Cleared to Fly at All?

In the summer of 1938, Corrigan filed a flight plan to Los Angeles instead. He’d already completed a coast-to-coast flight earlier that same summer to demonstrate the airplane’s range.

Inspectors at Floyd Bennett Field had concerns. A landing gear strut was cracked. The fuel system was irregular. Forward visibility from the cockpit, with all those tanks in the way, was genuinely limited. They cleared him anyway - with reservations. The paperwork said Los Angeles.

The Departure: July 17, 1938

Corrigan took off at approximately 5:00 a.m. on July 17, 1938. It was foggy. Visibility was low. He climbed through the overcast, leveled off, checked his compass, and flew on.

The cockpit he occupied for the next 28 hours was barely habitable. Fuel tanks pressed in from all sides. The smell of avgas was constant. The old radial engine produced noise that eventually stopped registering as sound and became something felt in the teeth instead. No autopilot. No meaningful navigation aids. No reliable radio contact. Just the compass, the seat of his pants, and darkness over the North Atlantic.

The North Atlantic at night under an overcast offers no horizon, no landmarks, no light below and no stars above. It is one of the loneliest flight environments on earth.

How Did Corrigan End Up in Dublin?

When Corrigan broke through the clouds and saw green fields below, he descended and put Sunshine down at Baldonnel Aerodrome, outside Dublin.

Airport officials came running - no American aircraft had been expected. Corrigan climbed out and said, with complete calm: “Just got in from New York. Where am I?”

Told he was in Dublin, Ireland, he reportedly looked thoughtful and said something to the effect of, “I flew the wrong way.”

What Was Corrigan’s Official Explanation?

His story: his compass had been malfunctioning. In poor visibility and darkness, he had become disoriented and flown east instead of west without realizing it.

The circumstantial problems with this account are significant. He flew for 28 hours and 13 minutes over the North Atlantic - not the American Southwest. Any pilot who has flown over open water knows the difference. Corrigan had helped build the most famous Atlantic-crossing airplane in history. He had spent years being denied permission for exactly this route. He had modified Sunshine specifically for transatlantic range.

Aviation historians have long argued that a second, more reliable compass was hidden somewhere in the airplane - pointed east.

What Punishment Did Corrigan Actually Receive?

The Civil Aeronautics Authority suspended his pilot’s license. For 14 days. Then, when it came time for him to fly the Curtiss Robin back to California, they had to reinstate the license so he could make the trip.

Fourteen days. For crossing the North Atlantic without authorization in an airplane that had been declared unairworthy for ocean crossings.

How Did the Public React to Wrong Way Corrigan?

Ireland turned out in force. Corrigan was Irish-American, he had flown solo across the Atlantic, and the Irish understood exactly what that meant. Dublin gave him a hero’s welcome.

When he returned to New York by ship, the city threw him a ticker-tape parade up Broadway - by some accounts, drawing a larger crowd than Lindbergh had received.

He wrote a memoir titled That’s My Story. The title is not subtle. Hollywood made a movie; Corrigan played himself. He lectured and made appearances for years.

Did Wrong Way Corrigan Ever Admit the Flight Was Intentional?

He never admitted it - not publicly, not on record.

For the rest of his life, Corrigan maintained that his compass had malfunctioned and he had made a navigational error. He would smile when pressed. He would shrug. He would say, “That’s my story.”

Some people claimed he had confirmed to them privately that the flight was intentional. The circumstantial case - the years of denied applications, the purpose-built fuel capacity, the coast-to-coast warm-up flight that same summer - amounts to what most aviation historians treat as overwhelming evidence of intent.

He held the line for 57 years. Douglas Corrigan died in December 1995 at the age of 88, still officially the victim of a compass malfunction.

Why Does Wrong Way Corrigan’s Legacy Still Matter in Aviation?

What Corrigan accomplished, intentional or not, was genuinely extraordinary. He flew a heavily modified 1929 Curtiss Robin - an airplane rejected as unairworthy for ocean crossings - solo across the North Atlantic in 28 hours and 13 minutes. No automation. No meaningful radio. Pure dead reckoning over the most unforgiving water on earth.

That flight places him among the great ocean crossers of the early aviation era regardless of how the paperwork described the destination.

His name has remained in the aviation lexicon for nearly 90 years. Say “wrong way” to any pilot. They know exactly who you mean.

Key Takeaways

• Douglas Corrigan departed Floyd Bennett Field, Brooklyn on July 17, 1938, officially bound for Los Angeles, and landed at Baldonnel Aerodrome, Dublin 28 hours and 13 minutes later.
• He had helped build Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis in 1927 and spent years being denied CAA permission for an Atlantic crossing before finding his creative solution.
• Sunshine, his 1929 Curtiss Robin, was purchased for $90 and extensively modified with additional fuel tanks that crowded the cockpit and blocked forward visibility.
• The CAA suspended his license for just 14 days - then reinstated it so he could fly home.
• Corrigan maintained his “compass error” story without public contradiction until his death in December 1995 at age 88, taking whatever he actually knew to his grave.