I’m Ready for my Close-up Mr. De Mille

In view of Dom Pisano’s blog on the IMAX films, I thought I might offer some comment on what it is like to see yourself five stories tall on the BIG screen.  I have appeared in two IMAX films. The first, On the Wing (1986) was directed by Bayley Silleck and Francis Thompson. Rick Young, an old friend, built and flew the 1902 Wright glider featured in that film. Another friend, Ken Kellett built and flew the replica 1903 Wright Flyer that flies (almost) in the film. In the scenes with the 1902 glider, I am dressed as a member of the US Lifesaving Service, one of the fellows who assisted the Wright brothers. In the scenes with the 1903 powered airplane, I am one of the Lifesavers on either wingtip during take-off. My son Nathan, then thirteen, was released from school so that he could play the role of Tom Tate, a young Outer Banker who befriended the Wrights.  When the film was released, Nate got a letter from Grady Tate, elderly son of the real Tom Tate, congratulating him on his performance.  I still think that was pretty neat.  I hasten to add that Nate and I were by no means the real stars of  On The Wing. Beyond question, that was a full-scale, flying, replica of Quetzacoatlus Northropi, built and flown via radio control by Paul Macready and his crew at AeroVironment. If memory serves, the big mechanical pteranodon flew just long enough for them to get one good shot of it in the air.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMVRquMjNk8]

I actually had a speaking part in The Magic of Flight (1986), my second and last turn before the IMAX camera. Directed by Greg  MacGillivray, this film was produced for the National Museum of Naval Aviation. When MacGillvray first asked me to fly to his studio in Laguna Beach to describe what the Wright brothers had accomplished and how, I said thanks, but no thanks. The idea of me as a “talking head” with a face forty feet tall was not all that appealing. My boss at the time, Don Engen, a retired admiral and great friend of the folks in Pensacola, thought otherwise. If that’s what the Navy wanted, he was there to see that they got it. So, off I flew to Orange County. In the end it was not so bad. At our annual Air & Scare celebration at the Udvar-Hazy Center a few years ago, I was innocently standing in front of some display cases explaining things to our visitors, all clad in Halloween costumes. I noticed a four year old kid standing in front of me, staring up at my face. His mother walked up and apologized, explaining that they had a home video copy of The Magic of Flight, which her son had watched over and over.  “Go ahead,” his mother said, “show him.” The kid immediately began to explain the three axes of flight – pitch, role and yaw, just as I had done it in the film. Hey, as Andy Warhol opined, everybody deserves their fifteen minutes of fame.

Tom D. Crouch is the senior curator in the aeronautics division of the National Air and Space Museum.

A Crash Made Famous on TV

May 10 may ring a bell for fans of the 1970s television show The Six Million Dollar Man.  On that day in 1967, a NASA research aircraft, the wingless M2-F2 lifting body, crashed in the California desert. A film clip of the crash opened the popular weekly show about the gravely injured fictional pilot, Steve Austin, played by Lee Majors.  Thanks to bionic implants, he survived as a cyborg with superhuman strength, speed, and vision, to crusade against injustice.

View TV series intro on YouTube.

The M2-F2 research craft looked more like a boat than an aircraft. NASA was experimenting with wingless flight for a more controlled, more heat-resistant reentry from space. A lifting body derives lift from the shape of the fuselage, rounded on the bottom and flatter on top. Instead of wings, it has vertical stabilizer fins to control its attitude.

The aluminum M2-F2 had an XLR-11 rocket engine. It was carried aloft under the wing of a B-52 bomber to 13,716 m (45,000 ft) altitude. The engine then ignited to carry the craft to 18,288-21,336 m (60,000-70,000 ft) for a gliding descent to a landing. These flights demonstrated that a pilot could fly a wingless vehicle back from space to land like an airplane.

M2-F2

M2-F2 After the Crash in 1967

There was only one serious accident in 12 years of lifting body flights. On its 16th test flight both the M2-F2 and pilot Bruce Peterson were nearly destroyed as the craft flew out of control and then plowed into the ground at 250 miles per hour, tumbling over and over before coming to rest. Peterson had several surgeries but no bionic implants to repair his facial injuries, fractured skull, and loss of one eye. This accident inspired a novel, made-for-television movies, and the weekly prime-time television program.

M2-F3 Lifting Body

M2-F3 Lifting Body, Hanging in Space Hall at the National Air and Space Museum

The M2-F2 was rebuilt as the M2-F3 with a large third vertical stabilizer between the fins. It flew 27 successful test flights in 1970-1972, many of them the same profile as planned for the space shuttle.  This lifting body research helped to demonstrate that landing without power was safe and thus landing engines were not needed on the shuttle.  The M2-F3 (the resurrected M2-F2) hangs in Space Hall in the National Air and Space Museum.

Valerie Neal is in her 20th year as the Shuttle-era human spaceflight curator in the National Air and Space Museum’s Space History Division.

Is Resistance Futile?

In Star Trek: The Next Generation the intrepid crew of the United Starship Enterprise repeatedly face the Borg, cyborgs intent on assimilating the biological creatures of the universe into their collective consciousness. Their meme, “resistance is futile,” serves as a convenient tagline for this ongoing plot device in the fictional series, but it also may foreshadow a more realistic future for humanity as we reach into space. When considering the far future and the potential for humans to colonize other bodies in the solar system and beyond, perhaps humanity will adapt to the space environment through modifications of the human body like those found on the Borg.

This idea was first broached by scientists Manfred E. Clynes and Nathan S. Kline in a 1960 NASA study. They remarked: “Altering man’s bodily functions to meet the requirements of extraterrestrial environments would be more logical than providing an earthly environment for him in space.”  They proposed a variety of modifications that would allow humans to withstand radiation, the absence of atmospheric oxygen, and other hazards of space. They coined the term “cyborg” to describe this adaptation.

Sojourner and Astronaut on Mars

The classic image of humans and robots working together is depicted in this NASA artwork. Sojourner, the Mars Pathfinder rover named after former slave and famous abolitionist Sojourner Truth, is visited many years after its mission by a descendant of its namesake, in this artist’s rendering. Like the human, Sojourner the rover paved the way for those that followed. This image was produced for NASA by Pat Rawling.

Since that time, NASA has refrained from serious consideration of the ideas offered by Clynes and Kline, although a few studies in the 1960s investigated these possibilities. But what of the future, especially the distant future? To date, human presence in space has consisted of what might be characterized as extended camping trips, often a week or more but rarely exceeding a half year in length.  Yet space advocates continue to propose far lengthier stays, from planetary outposts to solar system colonization.

If colonization of the solar system, and the rest of the galaxy, is truly desirable, will it be done by Homo sapiens?  In undertaking this cosmic venture, humans might change, especially if very long periods of time are involved.  Humans born and raised on extraterrestrial locations would change naturally in response to different conditions.  Given advances in biotechnology, others might reengineer themselves.  The current debate over the superiority of humans versus robots in space could disappear in the presence of such alterations.

A provocative possibility appears in the rapid rise of biotechnology, suggesting that humans may become cyborgs through the application of sophisticated machinery in ways at least initially unrelated to space exploration. In many ways we are already there, with millions of people enjoying a better quality of life, or in some cases life itself, through the incorporation of pacemakers, joint and limb replacements, cochlear hearing implants, artificial organs, and a potential list of even more sophisticated enhancements. Future possibilities are astonishing.

How might we remake the human body to more effectively meet the rigors of space exploration? Skeptics may scoff at this possibility as nothing more than bioscience fiction, but space exploration was itself fiction in the truest sense of the word less than 75 years ago. Advances in biotechnology could take place with similar speed.

Robonaut

NASA’s Robonaut (foreground) is a step forward in terms of human/machine interaction. Here it performs a mock weld while Ames Research Center's K10 robot assists two EVA crew inspecting a previously welded seam.

The result, given sufficient time, may be the emergence of a new age of space exploration. Technological developments now beginning to take place might permit a true merger—humans equipped with robotic parts or machines possessing sentient qualities. In that sense, humans and robots would explore space together—really together.

The implications of such developments for the future of space exploration are fascinating.  They are made more interesting when one considers the degree to which humans might change during the millions of years available to colonize the galaxy. Who knows what derivations of the human form could emerge? Such developments would alter the traditional debate over space exploration in ways that provide a new paradigm quite different than the one casting humans with all of their biological limitations into the extraterrestrial realm. Such developments might make space travel more attainable, though in unconventional ways.

So, is there a Borg in our future? Possibly; even probably. In fact, we may already be there with all of the biotechnological enhancements now routinely offered to human beings. This possibility, moving as it does away from the necessity of maintaining organic life under Earth-like conditions throughout the cosmos, offers a fascinating option for space travel. If we did not require Earth-like conditions to survive, our ability to colonize strikingly diverse non-Earth-like worlds would expand. Many spheres, including those within the local solar system not currently suitable for human occupation, might prove acceptable. Is it possible that once cyborgs emerge—and undertake space travel—they will shoulder the burden of carrying the essence of humanity to other worlds? Resistance may be futile, if the Borg really are us. But they need not be feared.

Roger D. Launius is senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum. Howard E. McCurdy is professor of public affairs at the American University,Washington, D.C. They pubished Robots in Space: Technology, Evolution, and Interplanetary Travel (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), from which the ideas here are taken.

Following the Hindenburg

Hindenburg Poster

Hindenburg poster by Jupp Wiertz

The superlatives tend to pile up pretty quickly when it comes to the rigid airship Hindenburg, the pride of the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei line. It was the longest aircraft of any type at 245 meters (803 feet). Its 16 gas cells held up to 200,000 cubic meters (7,062,900 cubic feet) of hydrogen gas. Four 1050 hp Daimler-Benz DB 602 diesel motors sped the mighty airship along at speeds up to 135km/h (85 mph) with a maximum range of 14,000km (8,700 miles). Up to 70 passengers traveled in unrivaled luxury, served by a crew of from 40 to 72; gourmet meals (although the final meal served on board was a bit sketchy); comfortable (though small) cabins with running water; and a smoking lounge, where one could enjoy a Hindenburg Cocktail or two. And, of course, the famous Blüthner aluminum piano, covered in pigskin, for the passengers’ pleasure. Think of that, the next time you’re stuffed into a tiny airline seat and stuck on a runway for a couple of hours.

Hindenburg Baggage Label

American Airlines-Hindenburg baggage label

It’s a shame, though, that the Hindenburg is remembered today primarily for its tragic final flight.  On May 6, 1937, it arrived at its American terminus, the Lakehurst Naval Air Station, at the end of the first flight of the 1937 season. Vented hydrogen ignited (although there are many other theories), and the mighty airship crashed and burned. There were 36 passengers and 61 crew on board; 13 passengers and 22 crew died, as did one member of the ground crew. But it wasn’t history’s worst airship disaster; the US Navy’s USS Akron lost 73 of its crew of 76 when it crashed off the New Jersey coast on April 4, 1933. What we remember, though, are the horrifying photographs of the Hindenburg engulfed in flames, and the breathless narration of the disaster by Herb Morrison, a reporter for the Chicago radio station WLS. But there are happier stories concerning the Hindenburg.

Hindenburg Ticket

Garland Fulton’s ticket for the October 9, 1936 “Millionaires’ Flight”

On October 9, 1936, the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei and the Standard Oil Company invited a party of influential businessmen, politicians, and military men aboard the Hindenburg for a ten-hour flight over the fall foliage of New England. Dubbed “The Millionaires’ Flight,” its passengers included heavy hitters like Juan Trippe of Pan American and the ace Eddie Rickenbacker, who headed Eastern Airlines at the time. Also among the passengers was Commander Garland Fulton, U.S. Navy, chief of the Lighter than Air Section of the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics. That’s his ticket for the flight, shown above, preserved among his papers, which are held by the Museum’s Archives Division. As the VIPs enjoyed a superb luncheon, far below on the ground in the wilds of Connecticut, a little girl was about to have the experience of a lifetime. The little girl, who grew up to become an author and opera translator and a dear friend, was Anne “Cookie” Chotzinoff Grossman. Here’s her account, as published in Robert Hedin’s The Zeppelin Reader:

In September or October of 1936, I was six years old, at school in Ridgefield, Connecticut, in those days a small, exceedingly rural town. I was a shy little girl, always trailing behind my 10-year-old brother Blair. One day we were outside during the lunch recess, when a shadow crossed the schoolyard. We all looked up; something huge was floating by. Blair said excitedly, “Hey, that’s the Hindenburg! Let’s follow it!” I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about or what a Hindenburg was, but whenever Blair said “follow”, I followed; so I ran behind him and his friends, trying hard to keep up. We ran across fields and brooks and over stone walls, trying to keep the airship in sight. Blair finally admitted defeat – the Hindenburg was faster than we were – and we made our way back to the school, very late and very dirty, to face angry teachers. I don’t remember what Blair’s punishment was, but I was made to stand at the blackboard and write “I will not follow the Hindenburg” 100 times.

That’s the way I prefer to remember the airship Hindenburg: sailing through a crisp autumn day over New England, with a gang of school kids in hot pursuit…

Hindenburg Model

Model of the Hindenburg on display in the National Mall Building.

There are Hindenburg artifacts to see at the Museum. For instance, the  stupendous model of the airship (shown above), used in the 1975 Universal film The Hindenburg starring George C. Scott and Anne Bancroft, which hovers over the entrance to the store in the National Mall Building.

The Bucker Bu-133C Jungmeister

The Bucker Bu-133C Jungmeister at the Udvar-Hazy Center

We even have an actual Hindenburg passenger on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center – the Museum’s Bücker Bü-133C Jungmeister was shipped to the United States in August 1936 on the Hindenburg by its owner, the Romanian aerobatic pilot Alexandru Papană for the Cleveland Air Races.

Hindenburg cup and saucer

Photograph by Dane Penland

Also at the Udvar-Hazy Center, in the Lighter than Air exhibit case, is a fragment of one of Hindenburg’s aluminum girders, a ladder, a fragment of the airship’s doped fabric, and, shown above, a cup and a saucer, possibly used on the Millionaires’ Flight, survivors of the Hindenburg’s final flight, but smudged by the smoke and flames that signaled the end of passenger airship travel.

Film of the Hindenburg in flight, and the destruction of the airship at Lakehurst, May 6, 1937. National Air and Space Museum Archives Division film VB 01246.

Allan Janus is a museum specialist in the Museum’s Archives Division.

IMAX—Not the First, but Close!

When the National Air and Space Museum opened its doors in July 1976, it featured in its theater a film produced specifically for the Museum called To Fly in a large format called IMAX. The Canadian-designed IMAX (Image MAXimum) format was created by Graeme Ferguson, Roman Kroitor, Robert Kerr, and William C. Shaw. IMAX was able to record and project images in a much larger format and much higher resolution than conventional film systems. Theater goers were astonished by the panoramic images in To Fly, one of whose effects on the audience was a vertiginous loss of balance. To Fly was immensely popular, and continues to be shown today in both of the Museum’s IMAX theaters. The film was considered significant enough to be selected in 1995 for preservation and placed on the Library of Congress’s National Film Registry, which pays tribute to culturally important films. Until 2004, To Fly held the record as the highest-grossing documentary film.

To Fly!

Artwork for the IMAX movie, To Fly! Credit: MacGillivray Freeman Films

Many people (including me) thought To Fly was the first IMAX film to be shown in the United States. However, subsequent research has turned up some interesting facts about IMAX’s origins and history.  IMAX is probably the most significant and most successful in a long line of large format films that began with Twentieth Century Fox’s Fox Grandeur, the first 70 mm motion picture format, introduced in 1929. (The Big Trail in 1930, directed by Raoul Walsh and starring John Wayne in his first major role, was the first film made in Fox Grandeur.) Another wide-screen process, Cinerama, which used multiple projectors to achieve its effects, appeared in 1952. (The first feature film, This Is Cinerama, thrilled audiences with its wild point-of-view roller coaster ride). The 1950s also saw such large formats as Twentieth Century Fox’s Cinemascope (The Robe was the first Cinemascope production in 1953), Paramount’s Vista Vision (White Christmas in 1954 was the first in that process) both of which widened the standard 35 mm image, and Todd-AO, a 70 mm process (Oklahoma in 1955 and Around the World in Eight Days in 1956 were the first in that process).

The history of IMAX goes back to 1967, when two films shown at Montreal Expo—Roman Kroitor’s In the Labyrinth and Graeme Ferguson’s Man and the Polar Regions—attempted to use multiple screen, multiple projection techniques, but ran into numerous technical problems. Undaunted, Kroiter and Ferguson founded a company, originally called “Multiscreen” (later changed to IMAX when multiple screen projection became impractical). The process they developed used a single projector, a single camera, and a single large format screen. The first IMAX film was titled Tiger Child, and was shown at Expo ’70 in Osaka, Japan. In 1971, the first IMAX theater system was set up in Toronto at Ontario Place. At Expo ’74 in Spokane, Washington, a very large IMAX format screen (300 ft. x 213 ft,) was installed in the U.S. Pavilion. Although this screen was temporary, a permanent IMAX screen replaced it in what is now the Riverfront Park IMAX Theater. In 1973, an IMAX Dome opened at the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center in San Diego, California. IMAX theaters now exist in all parts of the world.

Despite the fact that the National Air and Space Museum’s IMAX theater was not the first in the U.S., its significance in introducing a vast audience to the IMAX film format cannot be denied. Over the years, the National Air and Space Museum has shown such aerospace-related IMAX films as Blue Planet (1990), Destiny in Space (1994), Cosmic Voyage (1996), Mission to Mir (1997), and Space Station (2002). Hubble 3D, one of the current attractions at the Lockheed Martin IMAX Theater, is characteristic of how far the IMAX process has come in its development. At one time thought to be impractical for major motion pictures, IMAX has now become commonplace. Although as of this writing, no feature film has been shot entirely in IMAX (some, like Michael Bay’s Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, made in 2009, have some scenes shot in IMAX) many have been or are being digitally remastered to be shown in IMAX theaters in IMAX and IMAX 3D.

Dominick A. Pisano is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum