Personal Connections Make the Museum Meaningful

Confession: I used to think airplanes were boring. When I left my home in Tucson, Arizona this May to begin a summer internship at the National Air and Space Museum, I thought that air and space history had nothing to do with me. And, I must confess, I had very little interest in them, either. My background is in art history, and my goal for the summer was to learn about education programs in a large museum with extremely diverse visitors – airplanes had nothing to do with it.

A few weeks after I arrived at the Museum, however, I was hooked. I talked with anyone who would listen about the things I learned at the Museum every day. I started reading in my free time about pioneering aviators. In short, I had been drawn in by the tractor beam that is created when a museum visitor makes a personal connection with an artifact or artwork. I learned how exciting airplanes can be when I came across a plane – and its pilot, Lowell Smith – that led me to learn about the role aeronautics played in shaping the community I live in and my family’s decision to move there, making it my home.

I had never heard of Lowell Smith until I saw his name painted on the side of the Douglas World Cruiser Chicago in the Pioneers of Flight gallery. Lieutenant Smith piloted the Chicago in the first flight around the world in 1924. As I read further I learned about his impressive career as a decorated Army officer who held 16 records for military aircraft in speed, endurance, and distance. In 1923 he piloted the first plane to successfully refuel in mid-air.

Lt. Lowell Smith stands on the left wing of the Douglas World Cruiser Chicago as he prepares to take off from Seattle, Washington on the first leg of the around-the-world flight. SI 78-4647, Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum Archives.

His early accomplishments are impressive, but it is Smith’s life after the around-the-world flight that intersects with mine. In February, 1942, he became the second commander of Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson. Under Smith’s command, it became the top training base for B-17 and B-24 crews during World War II. Military airspace was defined from Tucson west to Yuma, near the California border, that is still in place today.

Thanks to Museum Specialist Carl Schuettler, I had the rare opportunity to look inside the cockpit of the Chicago while it was being cleaned. Here, I stand in the same spot where Lowell Smith stood when the above photo was taken. Photo by Robyn Squire.

Many things have changed at Davis-Monthan since Smith died in a horseback riding accident in 1945, but the primary purpose of the Base – pilot and crew training – remains. Thanks to the weather (surely you’ve heard about the “dry heat”), pilots can safely fly almost every day of the year in southern Arizona. These days Davis-Monthan is a training base for A-10 pilots, and the nearby Air National Guard base serves as an international training base for F-16 pilots.

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The Day I Met a Communist Defector

Flight suit worn by Lt. Franciszek Jarecki when he defected from the Polish Air Force in a MiG-15s. Flight suit is on display at the National Air and Space Museums Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center.

Flight suit worn by Lt. Franciszek Jarecki when he defected from the Polish Air Force in a MiG-15s. The flight suit is on display at the National Air and Space Museum's Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, steps away from a MiG-15bis (visible in background).

When you are visiting the Udvar-Hazy Center, you will come across a display case that holds the flightsuit of a former MiG pilot named Frank Jarecki. It is located just in front of the Museum’s MiG in the Cold War Aviation area. Jarecki is not exactly a household name, I know, but someone with a unique and interesting background nevertheless.

A while ago, I was fortunate enough to meet Jarecki when he was at the Center taping a Polish TV documentary about his life.

Jarecki was a pilot in the Polish Air Force when, on March 5, 1953, he defected to the West in his MiG-15 by flying to Bornholm, Denmark. It was the first intact MiG-15 to reach the West. Not only did it allow Western aviation experts to take apart and examine a Soviet fighter jet, but also Jarecki was able to provide first-hand information about Soviet aircraft and air tactics.

Jarecki told me that before his defection, he did not think carefully about what he was doing.  He said he was “ignorant,” actually.  He did not think about what might happen to his mother, who was arrested and imprisoned for a while.

The U.S. government interrogated him a lot when he came to the United States, he told me, trying to figure out if he was truly a defector or a spy.  But, he pointed out, “Why would the Poles let him come here in a MiG?  It was a brand new one, the latest model.”

Once it was determined he was not a spy, Jarecki began a new life in the United States and became somewhat of a media celebrity. He settled in Erie, Pennsylvania and eventually established his own company, Jarecki Industries. He married and had five children.

During our brief meeting, Jarecki was very congenial and told stories about his life in communist Poland and his adjustment in the United States. He particularly enjoyed telling me about all the movie stars he has met. I greatly enjoyed my first, and probably last, encounter with a genuine, history-making figure from the Cold War.

Kathleen Hanser is a Writer-Editor in the Office of Communications at the National Air and Space Museum.

Q. and A. in the Archives Division

Cartoon by Richard Thompson (NASM 9A02888); Richard Thompson and Smithsonian Magazine

It was about twenty years ago, but no one in the Museum’s Archives Division can now remember who first asked us the immortal question – what‘s the wingspan of a Lockheed P-38 Lightning?

The answer, by the way, is fifty-two feet – exactly. It’s a classic example of the countless “ready reference” questions that have challenged the Archives staff over the years. And for some reason, the Division’s staff has adopted it as something of a motto, or slogan, or battle cry – it’s the premiere aerospace fact that’s taught to new staff members, and they’re expected to be able to rattle it off on command.

Besides our primary responsibility of acquiring, arranging, and preserving the documentary material of air and space history for public and curatorial use, we assist visiting researchers and also handle great numbers of letters, emails, and telephone calls through our reference desk – everyone from historians and congressional offices to school kids working on their homework, plus the odd bar bet from time to time. We take pride in the fact that we answer every question, or provide guidance to other reference sources.

Here’s another question we get asked from time to time – Number of golf balls on the Moon? Answer – two. No, we don’t know what brand.

Got a question for us? We’re trying out a new reference feature this week that we’re calling Ask an Expert. We’re looking for easier ways for people to contact us, and we’d also like to build up a searchable FAQ of answers to useful questions – so starting today and running through Friday, August 7, ask us something and we’ll do our best to shoot you back an answer. Some questions may require that we do a bit of digging in the files, so we can’t quite guarantee an instant reply – not quite yet.

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