Well…no sooner had the fateful words issued from Mark Seymour’s mouth (“Hey, we could build a model of ‘Hotspur’ right here in the apartment!’) than the hard, cold, mechanical reality began to set in.

What must be kept in mind is that we were not going to build a ‘Hindenburg’ type Zeppelin [sleek, streamlined, modern, efficient…where everything is housed inside, engines and all] ; we wanted an airship that would be the height of fin-de-siècle’ design sensibility…aerodynamics be damned. We wanted a boney, primitive-but-muscular design with multi-plane control surfaces, fins, bracing wires, etc. The engines, on the exterior, were out at the ends of long girders, and could only be reached for in-flight servicing by narrow cat-walks. Not content with a control gondola poking out through the bow, we planned to install a two-story house complete with porches and exterior walkways. In fact, a series of large, external cabins with large windows were envisioned along the length of the keel. One could move from one to another from inside, but, in addition, they were all connected on the outside by walkways and ladders. Perilous, to be sure, but breath-taking. 'Hotspur' was seen by its designers as a City In The Sky.

As Mark spun out the dream, it certainly seemed doable. We would build a series of rings and link them up with a stout keel and stringers running fore-and-aft to hold a series of helium-filled balloons. Then add the superstructure, or, in this case, the under-structures. To us, this was going to be the real fun part: building all the Victorian details. We saw ourselves happily spending evenings modeling cupolas, walkways, ladders, French doors, etc. Actually, we saw the Zeppelins' gas bag as a prosaic necessity for all the decoration we hoped to lard on it. It's as if a cake is but the dull requirement to hold up the icing. After we had discussed the icing at some length, it was time to start calculating what it was going to take to get it off the ground. Remember; we had not yet decided what kind of engine to install. Some model airplane engine, to be sure; batteries would be prohibitively heavy. Nor had we decided which radio-control rig to use. (This was in the '70s: no internet, no micro-processors that will fit on your thumb-nail). Mark looked up the per-cubic-foot lifting ability of helium and started to calculate. (Take out your handkerchiefs here!)

It quickly became evident that, simply to lift itself, the gas bag would have to be 54 ft long and the rings 6 ft in diameter. This is before adding all our beloved gondolas, cabins, walkways, ladders, external engine pylons, fins, people, (this was scaled to use HO gauge people). This is before adding so much as a coat of paint. Even trying to engineer it for hydrogen, despite the hazard, was a no-go. Hydrogen is a better lifting agent than helium, but not that much better. There's an economy-of-scale if you're lifting a real Zeppelin, but not a 54 ft. model. We were skunked.