Medford, Ore.--One hundred and seventeen thousand pounds of iron piping and fittings will be transported by airplane from Iron Mountain, Mont., to a placer mine in the Clearwater region of Idaho. Ive McKinney, ex-Medford boy, who has the contract, has announced. Mr. McKinney explained that he will use two planes to transport the metal over the high mountain range to the placer mine. This is being done by the mining company to save six months' time by avoiding slow-going pack trains.
Park County Republican and Fairplay Flume, Fairplay, Colorado, July 19, 1929, page 2

    Introducing the "Three Musketeers" of Holmes Airport, Jackson Heights, L.I.--Veterans of a thousand stubble fields from which they flew together during the rollicking, romantic days of aerial barnstorming, these modern prototypes of Porthos, Athos and Aramis have set down their winged steeds and await some new adventure.
    The men, William C. (Whispering Bill) Brooks, John W. (Big Jack) Ashcraft, and Ive McKinney, who have piled up thousands of hours of flying as they have flown side by side across the nation and back again, are graduates of the same stern school.
    For 10 years their lives have been pledged to the famous musketeer motto "One for all, and all for one." During the lean days they shared their profits, helped repair each other's planes and, in some cases, risked their lives in saving each other.
    Baling wire and a pair of pliers at times were their only repair equipment. Their fields were cow pastures on the sloping sides of hills; marsh lands, dry of water for a moment; sandy beaches, and Western plains.
    Now, they've settled down.
    They boast of an airport with modern equipment on it. They have supply sheds, an operations office, and other hitherto unknown advantages.
    They've abandoned the rickety, sluggish barnstorming planes of ancient vintage, and now take the controls of modern ships.
    Brooks, chief pilot of the organization, recalls the old days wistfully. Bill, in the course of vagrant wanderings, has had motors fall out of his airplane--has had them burn on him, when he didn't have a dime with which to check out of his hotel--has been made an Indian chief, and has dodged rebel bullets in Nicaragua.
    "McKinney, Ashcraft and I became acquainted through the same medium," he declared. "That was the old Gates Flying Circus, which barnstormed from coast to coast and from border to border.
    "It was founded by Ivan R. Gates back in 1911, but we didn't play much part in it until after the war.
    "I joined after my old Standard J-1 burned while I was repairing it, and the proprietor of the hotel wouldn't let me check out until I had paid my bill. I'd still be living in the same place if it hadn't been for 'Van' Gates and his flying circus, who arrived at just the right time.
    "Van gave me $100 and a job."
    Brooks is not at all reticent about discussing the "lean days" of aviation.
    "I didn't have an overcoat," he declared, "and it was very cold. I had newspapers packed into my shoes, for the soles were gone and the streets were cold and wet."
    Brooks' life has not been all adversity, however. In 1926 and 1927 he was flying in Nicaragua. Ostensibly he was conducting a flying school, but actually he was in the pay of the Nicaraguan conservatives, who were trying to quell uprisings organized by the rebel general Augustino Sandino.
    "I did scout work and bombing," he declared. "My chief duties were to see that conservative generals did not pad their payrolls, by flying over their troops and counting them and dropping bombs made of gasoline cans, bolts and dynamite."
    At one time in his gypsy career, Brooks flew an Indian boy--grandson of Sitting Bull, of the Sioux--to a hospital, after the lad had been bitten by a rattlesnake. For this he was made a chieftain, and a trip into the West is not complete for Brooks unless he visits the reservation and has a powwow.
    His closest call came in Allentown, Pennsylvania, when a blade of his propeller snapped off, and the twist of the other blade tore out his motor. He was almost half a mile over Allentown. With 700 pounds off the nose of the ship, it slid onto its tail and started falling like a leaf in an autumn breeze.
    Bill worked his controls frantically and managed to land on the tail and a wing
    His cheek was scratched.
    He received his original training in flying during the World War. He has carried more than 100,000 passengers into the air, and has stunted over more than 2,000 towns and cities throughout the United States.
    Jack Ashcraft also received his training during the World War. To his comrades he has shown a remarkable devotion.
    When at Daytona Beach three years ago he gave an example of this. The Gates Flying Circus was doing well, financially, but a series of slight accidents had caused considerable repair expense.
    There was very little money in the cash register, and there was some question as to where additional funds were coming from. Gates signed a $3,000 contract, promising to have four planes in the air over a given spot at a given time.
    Three planes were started successfully.
    The fourth balked. The call went out for "Big Jack," who stands well over six feet. He twisted the propeller of the balky plane. It backfired and broke Jack's arm.
    In spite of the pain, rather than see his pals go hungry, Jack climbed into his own cockpit and for forty-five minutes led a stunt flight. Then he landed and collapsed in his cockpit.
    Ive McKinney, the third "musketeer," has had a checkered career. He first appeared with Gates, after leaving the United States Army Air Corps with the rank of first lieutenant. He had barnstormed, had sold planes, and had flown with the Forest Patrol in Washington and Oregon.
    Gates gave him a Curtiss-R biplane with a Liberty motor and told him to fly it. He flew it whenever he could get it flying. Then, one day, the Department of Commerce inspectors "grounded" it at Youngstown, Ohio. He was told it wasn't safe and that he couldn't fly passengers until he had repaired it.
    "This is a good plane," he said. "I'll prove it."
    He gassed up and made a non-stop flight to northern New Jersey. He made the mistake of starting too late in the afternoon, however, and he got over Teterboro Airport after dark. He couldn't find it. His gasoline ran out, and he landed in the meadows. The ship went on its back, Gates got a box of matches, and that was the end of the Curtiss-R.
    Gates forgave McKinney. Then Ive built a Pacer monoplane, and was leading the Class B field across the United States in the New York-Los Angeles air races last summer. He had a forced landing, but with hard work and pluck got into the air again and finished eighth.
    Then he rejoined Gates. The "Three Musketeers" are together again, now, and that's all that really matters.
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 9, 1929, page F2

    He received his training, like Clyde E. Pangborn, his chief pilot, in the United States Army. He flew for two years with the Forest Patrol in Oregon, Washington and California, flying over country where a mishap meant death. He entered commercial aviation and barnstormed all over the country. He varied monotony with the federal forces during the revolution in Mexico, and when the trouble was over he was second in command in the federal air forces.
    That, briefly, serves to convey an idea of the career and accomplishments of Ive McKinney, copilot of the plane that will attempt to better the world's endurance record during the state fair.
    McKinney learned to fly in 1917. He was at the United States Army School in Rockwell Field, San Diego, Calif. He received his commission as a lieutenant. He was stationed at March Field in Riverside, Calif. and Mather Field in Sacramento, Calif.
    He was an instructor during the World War.
    "Would you like to get across and fly combat, Mac?" a fellow pilot asked him.
    McKinney looked him over with amazement upon his face.
    "Who wouldn't?" was his only comment.
    McKinney resigned from the Army flying service after the World War and flew commercially for a short time. Then he was back in the service, and in the most dangerous branch peacetime aviation could offer. That was doing forest patrol work on Oregon, Washington and California.
    His job consisted of flying low over immense forests and watching for the slightest wisp of smoke that might denote a fire which would destroy timber worth fabulous sums and probably endanger human life.
    It was a dangerous job. A forced landing meant death or serious injury.
    McKinney stayed in the service two years. Then he had exhausted its thrills.
    He couldn't and wouldn't leave flying, so he turned to commercial aviation.
    He became a member of the Gates Flying Circus, the organization that offered more thrills than any other. He joined the organization while it was giving exhibitions in Fulton. He came with an established reputation as a stunt pilot. The veterans of the organization didn't think he could be quite as good as they were.
    He showed them the first afternoon. He tried and accomplished everything they could do in the way of acrobatics, and then showed them a few stunts all his own.
    The Mexican Revolution before the last one appeared to offer more thrills than any flying circus, so McKinney departed bound for it. He joined the federal flying forces. He figured in scores of thrilling escapades.
    He, like Pangborn, is modest. He refuses to talk about his adventures.
    He was and is head of a concern that manufactured the Pacer Monoplane. He and Cy Bittner piloted a Pacer in Class B of the New York to Los Angeles Air Derby last year. Engine trouble forced them into 19th position at the end of the first day. When the race ended they had crept up to finish in the money.
    McKinney entered the employ of the New Standard Aircraft Corporation while his own factory is being equipped to manufacture Pacers in quantity.
    His official log with the United States Army shows 4,700 hours of flying time. He has added about 2,800 hours to that figure in his commercial work.
    Physically, he is perfect. He is ready and willing to undergo what all the pilots connected with the flight hope he will be a long and exhausting grind.
Syracuse Herald, July 21, 1929, page 14

    SYRACUSE, N.Y.--An attempt to break the world's record for a refueling endurance flight set recently by the St. Louis Robin [420 hours] is to be made here in conjunction with the New York State Fair by Clyde E. Pangborn and Ive McKinney.
    The two pilots will take off in a biplane from the infield of the state fair grounds at 9 a.m., August 26, and will circle over the grounds until forced down either by engine trouble or physical exhaustion. Cy Bittner, air mail pilot for the Canadian Colonial Airways, and Carl Dixon, veteran stunt flier, will handle the refueling plane, making two contacts a day, one early in the morning and the other late each afternoon.
    Special gasoline tanks and a duplicate oil system have been installed in the plane which will be used in the test, while a bunk, six feet by three, will enable the pilots to snatch some rest when off duty. Catwalks have been built around the outside of the pile so that the pilots may make minor repairs and change spark plugs when necessary.
Daily Messenger, Canandaigua, New York, August 24, 1929, page 3

    WILMINGTON, Del., Dec. 14.--(I.N.S.)--"Ive" McKinney, well-known aviator and a member of the crew of the airplane "Question Mark," which established an endurance record a short time ago, is in a critical condition today in the Delaware hospital. He sustained a fractured skull in an auto-truck collision near here last night. Physicians plan to operate today in an effort to save his life. Alexander Gagnon, of Wilmington, driver of the truck, is held in $5000 bail to await the outcome of the aviator's injuries.
Evening Tribune, San Diego, December 14, 1929, page 29    McKinney is not known to have been on the flight, ground or support crew for the Question Mark. This was apparently a misapprehension on the part of the reporter.

    MEDFORD, Or., June 1.--(Special.)--Captain Ive McKinney, 35, pioneer Oregon aviator, was killed at Teterboro, N.J., Saturday, when his plane sideslipped on a turn in an air race there, word received by his parents here states.
    Captain McKinney had been in the flying business at the New Jersey airport for several years. He joined the air service here in 1919 and for several years his headquarters were in southern Oregon. He is remembered by many local residents for his daring stunt flying. He attended flying school in California after coming to the Pacific coast from Harriman, Tenn., where he was born April 15, 1895. Surviving are his parents, Mr. and Mrs. W. L. McKinney, two brothers, John and Huse, and a sister, Mrs. Sam Colton, all of Medford. The funeral will probably be held here.
Oregonian, Portland, June 2, 1930, page 14

FINAL RITES FOR McKINNEY HELD IN CITY SUNDAY