Eddie Rickenbacker, a leading fighter ace in World War I and retired chairman of Eastern Air Lines, died early yesterday in a Zurich hospital. He was 82 years old. His health had been failing since he suffered a stroke in Miami last October, but had improved enough to permit the trip to Switzerland. He was admitted to Neumuenster Hospital with a heart ailment on July 15, four days after his arrival. His wife said the body would be cremated privately and the ashes flown to his birthplace, Columbus, Ohio, for burial. Edward Vernon Rickenbacker was a man whose delight in turning the tables on seemingly hopeless odds took him to the top in three distinct fields. In the daredevil pre-World War I days of automobile racing he became one of this country's leading drivers, although he had a profound dislike for taking unnecessary risks. He had entered the auto industry as a trainee mechanic and made his first mark servicing the cranky machines of that day. In World War I he became the nation's "Ace of Aces" as a military aviator despite the fact that he had joined the Army as a sergeant-driver on Gen. John J. Pershing's staff. He was named by Gen. William Mitchell to be chief engineering officer of the fledgling Army Air Corps. His transfer to actual combat flying--in which he shot down 22 German planes and four observation balloons--was complicated not only by his being two years over the pilot age limit of 25, but also because he was neither a college man nor a "gentleman" such as then made up the aristocratic fighter squadrons of the air service. In the highly competitive airline business, Mr. Rickenbacker was the first man to prove that airlines could be made profitable, and then the first to prove that they could be run without a Government subsidy and kept profitable. This, despite a previous venture in the automobile manufacturing business that fell victim to the competition of bigger companies and failed. While his successes came in fields that were developed in the 20th century, his philosophy seemed to many a carryover from the 19th century. Mr. Rickenbacker, or Captain Eddie as he preferred to be known (he was a colonel in the reserve but insisted that the title of captain was the only one he had earned), was an individualist of the old empire-building school. In any kind of fight he neither asked for nor gave quarter. His opposition to Government "interference" was widely known, as were his outspoken objections to subsidies for industries or individuals. He was also an intransigent foe of trade unionism and liberal democratic concepts. Mr. Rickenbacker was fond of saying that the greatest privilege this country had to offer was the "freedom to go broke," and that "a chance" was the only "favor" needed to succeed in the United States. In recent years, he had identified himself more and more closely with ultra-conservative and right-wing causes. In 1963, when he retired as board chairman of Eastern Air Lines he announced that he would devote himself to "awakening the American public to the grave problems facing them." In frequent speeches during the years that followed, Mr. Rickenbacker predicted that the American people someday would erect a monument to the memory of Senator Joseph R. McCarthy, and he urged United States withdrawal from the United Nations, the severance of diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union and repeal of the 16th Amendment, which authorized a personal income tax. "I am going to expand my crusade to save the American way of life for future generations," he wrote in his letter of resignation from Eastern Air Lines, "as I want our children, our grandchildren, and those who follow them to enjoy the American opportunities which have been mine for 73 years." A self-made man whose formal education ended with the sixth grade, Mr. Rickenbacker was a driving leader. He put the stamp of his dominant personality on everything he touched. His relations with his employes were on a personal basis that was heavily larded with paternalism. He frequently referred to his employes as "the boys and girls," but he devoted much of his time to pushing, prodding and cajoling them into making the same efforts to rise that he had made. But in the long run it will not be his material successes that will be remembered. Rather, he will be recalled as a larger-than-life figure cast in the same mold as legendary folk heroes of the past. Part of this heroism was in the military field. When he was given command of a fighter squadron on Sept. 24, 1918, he wrote in his diary: "Just been promoted to command of 94th Squadron. I shall never ask any pilot to go on a mission that I won't go on. I must work now harder than I did before." He did not delay suiting action to the words. The next day, while leading a patrol before breakfast, he spotted a flight of five German Fokker pursuit planes escorting two observation craft near Billy, France. He slammed his Spad fighter into a power dive, coming down out of the sun onto the unsuspecting enemy. Closing fast, he fired a long burst and saw one of the Fokkers fall away and crash. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion of the German fighter pilots, he plunged through their formation and went after the two-seater observation planes, which were then streaking back toward enemy territory. He made several unsuccessful passes at the heavier craft while their rear gunners were firing at him and the entire dogfight moved behind the German lines. When he saw that the Fokkers had regrouped and were closing fast at higher altitude, he decided to make one final try. Sideslipping his Spad between the two observation planes, which were flying about 50 feet apart, he sent one down in flames before streaking for home. This double-header, as he called it, earned him the Medal of Honor, but at the time Mr. Rickenbacker had other things on his mind. "I was glad it had come this morning [MISSING TEXT] effect it would have on the other pilots," he said. His determination to set a good example did not end with the twin killing. He went on to achieve 18 of his 26 victories between taking command of the Squadron and the end of the war--a matter of 48 days in all. Much of his combat was against the "flying circus" of Baron Manfred von Richtofen, the "Red Baron." For 41 years, Mr. Rickenbacker was officially credited with shooting down 21 planes and four balloons, although he maintained he had downed 22 planes and four balloons. In 1960, the Air Force approved his request for correction of the official record and granted him his 26th kill. While Mr. Rickenbacker's wartime exploits may have been the result of what he described as "planned recklessness" and "taking all the breaks," he was later to exhibit courage of a steelier kind. On a foggy night in February, 1941, one of his own Eastern Air Lines planes, on which he was a passenger, crashed into a hill as it approached Atlanta. Although he was pinned to the body of a dead steward by the wreckage and had a shattered pelvic bone, half a dozen broken ribs, a broken leg and one eyelid torn away, he remained conscious for nine hours until he was taken to a hospital. During that time he took command of the plane. He reassured survivors, sent some of the walking injured for help and shouted warnings against lighting matches in the gasoline- filled cabin. Sixteen months later, fully recovered except for a limp, he was to have a still greater test of his courage. That came when a B-17, on which he was making an inspection tour of World War II bases in the Pacific, had to make a crash landing in the ocean, 12 hours out from Honolulu. In minutes the plane sank and its eight passengers and crewman took to rubber rafts. For the next 22 days, Mr. Rickenbacker, the only civilian in the group, gave the orders. He divided the four oranges that made up the initial food supply. When a seagull landed on his head, he captured the bird smoothly. Then, when fish were caught, he divided the catch. After eight days it rained and he took charge of the water distribution. Cursing one man who prayed for death, dragging back another who tried to drown himself to make more room for the others, the grim, indomitable figure taunted his comrades to stay alive. Hating him every minute, six of these seven survived to be rescued by a patrolling plane that found them almost by chance. Most of them came to believe that they owed their lives to Mr. Rickenbacker's iron will. As for the commander of the rafts he continued his trip after two weeks of rest. He was then 52 years old. Mr. Rickenbacker was born of a German-Swiss father and a French-Swiss mother in Columbus, Ohio, on Oct. 8, 1890. His name originally was Edward Reichenbacher, but he modified the spelling of the family name during World War I to make it less Germanic, and added the middle name Vernon for a touch of "class." His father, a construction contractor of moderate circumstances, died when Mr. Rickenbacker was 12. The boy, who was the third of eight children, quit school and went to work. After a series of jobs, he entered the automobile industry as an unpaid porter in the Frayer-Miller Company in Columbus. He received a job for wages when Lee Frayer, head of the company, learned that his voluntary helper had taken a correspondence course in mechanical engineering. When Mr. Frayer moved a short time later to the Columbus Buggy Company, just beginning the manufacture of automobiles, Mr. Rickenbacker was taken along. The young man, then 16 and a crack mechanic, developed a local reputation as a driver-- although he never held a driver's license nor did he ever [MISSING TEXT] Frayer, who advertised his cars by racing them, gave his aide his next chance by making him a combination racing driver-salesman. For the next six years he traveled all over the country, racing cars one day and selling them the next. In 1912, when he was 22, Mr. Rickenbacker dropped the dual role and devoted his full time to racing. It was a hard, dangerous life, but he had less than his share of accidents and walked away from those he had. He said of this phase of his life that it taught him to "scheme." "You didn't win races because you had more guts. You won because you knew how to take the turns and baby your engine. It wasn't all just shut your eyes and grit your teeth." The "scheming" paid off. Mr. Rickenbacker set a world record of 134 miles an hour in a Blitzen-Benz at Daytona Beach, Fla., and in 1916, the last full year of his active racing career, he earned $80,000. He was in England in 1917, buying motors for a racing team, when the United States entered the war. He hurried home and tried to interest the War Department in organizing an air squadron of former racing drivers. Failing this, he enlisted on May 27, 1917, as a sergeant in the Signal Corps and sailed for France as General Pershing's chauffeur. Transferred to the Air Corps shortly afterward, he was made a first lieutenant on Aug. 20 and put in charge of engineering of the American air training center at Issoudon. Transferred again at his own request, he attended gunnery school and then was assigned to French units for flight training. His assignment to the 94th Squadron was not pleasing to the other airmen of the unit. They resented his civilian fame and his undeniable cockiness about it. In addition, he was regarded as uncouth, domineering and profane. To top it off, he insisted on checking his plane engine before every flight and personally supervised the loading of machine- gun bullets in his ammunition belts, instead of relying on the fortunes of war as gallantry dictated. The first Rickenbacker victory came on April 29, 1918, while on a patrol with the squadron commander, the late Capt. James Norman Hall, who later wrote "Mutiny on the Bounty" with Charles Nordhoff. He dived his Nieuport to within 150 yards of a German Albatross before opening fire. His squadron mates, whose earlier iciness slowly changed to respect and then fondness, have said that he was never a fancy flier, but always a ferocious fighter. And when Captain Hall was shot down and captured by the Germans, Captain Rickenbacker, who by then was an ace with seven confirmed kills, was promoted to command the 94th. After the war, he went on a lecture tour, but turned down an offer to appear in a movie. Instead, in 1922, he accepted the proposal of a group of financiers to lend his name and talents to the manufacture of an automobile. The Rickenbacker Motor Company, which produced the first car with four-wheel brakes in this country, failed in 1927, leaving Mr. Rickenbacker $200,000 in debt and with no job. He said subsequently, the business had failed because he had forgotten the importance of proper timing in making his moves. "We were just too early with four-wheel brakes," he said of the equipment that is now standard on all American cars. He kept as prized souvenirs the advertisements of rival concerns of the time that scored the four-wheel brakes as un-[MISSING TEXT]. He resolved to pay off the big debt, and then raised $700,000 more. With this he bought the Indianapolis Speedway, which he ran until 1945, when he sold out to devote his full time to aviation. In 1928 Mr. Rickenbacker became a $12,000-a-year assistant sales manager of the Cadillac division of the General Motors Corporation. He then was transferred to the big company's various aviation divisions. In 1934 he was sent as a trouble-shooter to salvage what he could of General Motors' Eastern Air Transport Division, which then owned Eastern Air Lines jointly with North American Aviation. The companies had sunk about $6-million into Eastern, but while the line had little competition on its choice New York-Miami routes, it was called the ugly duckling of an industry not then notable for successes. Mr. Rickenbacker's job was to shore up the failing line so the owners could sell it for their $1-million asking price. In its first year under his management, Eastern turned in a net gain of $350,000--the first profit in the history of the airline industry. The second year he doubled the profits. By the third year, when the Government ordered G. M. to sell its airlines or get out of aircraft manufacturing, a banking syndicate offered more than $3-million for Eastern. Mr. Rickenbacker pleaded with his employers for an equal chance to "save the airline for the boys and girls who helped build it." He received 60 days to raise the money and was told the company would be his for $3.5-million. The night before the option expired he got his final commitment, and the next day, March 2, 1938, he owned Eastern Air Lines. Mr. Rickenbacker ran his company in much the same manner he had commanded the 94th Squadron in World War I. He set impossible goals, and then went out and achieved them himself before complaints got out of hand. He also applied other early lessons to the airlines. He was never the first to buy a new plane. Only when other companies had tested a new type and proved it satisfactory did he place his order. He had homes in New York and Key Biscayne, Fla. Under Mr. Rickenbacker's dominance, Eastern was considered an efficient and profitable airline, but somewhat austere compared with many of its competitors. In the eyes of many travelers, its lack of emphasis on in-flight service and other frills gave it a spartan image. Nevertheless, the airline prospered. For 25 years under Mr. Rickenbacker's guidance-- from 1935 to 1960--it earned a profit every year. Then, along with many other lines that were jolted by the financial headwinds accompanying the introduction of jet airliners, it experienced losses during the early sixties. In 1959, Mr. Rickenbacker resigned as president of Eastern, and four years later, on Dec. 31, 1963, he retired as director and chairman of the board.