The Howard Levy Photography Collection

The Archives of the National Air and Space Museum holds two million images in various photographic formats, covering the breadth and depth of the history of aviation and space flight. One of the strengths of our collection is commercial aviation photography, and two of our most sought-out photographic collections are the Rudy Arnold Photo Collection (finding aid), consisting of commercial aviation photographs from the 1920s -1950s, and the Hans Groenhoff Photographic Collection (finding aid), consisting of commercial aviation photographs from the 1930s -1970s.

The Archives is delighted to announce that last month we received another collection of a great American aviation photographer, Howard Levy.  Howard Levy (1921-2010) was one of the nation’s outstanding aviation photographers. Levy took his first airplane photograph at Floyd Bennett Field in 1936 and sold his first aviation photograph in 1937.  His work spanned from 1936 until his last photo shoot in May of 2009.   He photographed aircraft at factories, airports, museums and air shows, including the Paris Air Show, which he attended for 30 years.  Levy’s work appeared in dozens of publications, including, Smithsonian, Air Progress, AOPA Pilot, Kitplanes, Look, Sport Pilot and Air & Space.  Levy was also published in many European flight magazines.  In 2003 he was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award by the International Symposium of Photographers.

Howard “Howie” Levy

Howard “Howie” Levy

We were extremely pleased when Mr. Levy’s family contacted us and offered his material to the national collection, and we immediately took steps to bring in the collection.   First, we took a trip to survey the collection in New Jersey.  Based on the survey, we estimated that the collection consisted of 250 cubic feet, which would have been the biggest collection we have brought into the Archives in over 20 years!  Even though the collection is huge, we knew the material was extraordinary and that the collection would be a valuable resource for our curators and public researchers.

After the Museum’s Collection Committee enthusiastically approved the acquisition, the Archives made plans to travel again to New Jersey to transfer the collection.  A team of four archivists spent four long days sorting and carefully packing the collection into boxes.  As the material was packed, a basic listing of what was placed in each box was created.   The boxes were then loaded into the Museum’s box truck for transfer.

Packing the collection into boxes

Packing the collection into boxes

Instead of the estimated 250 cubic feet, we ultimately found the collection to be closer to 200 cubic feet of material after it was packed.   The collection consists mostly of Mr. Levy’s photographic work, including black and white negatives, prints, color transparencies, and 35mm slides.  The collection also includes articles written by Levy and the reference material he gathered to write those stories.

The collection is currently housed at the Archives Division at the Paul E. Garber Facility in Suitland, Maryland, but will soon be moved into the Archives’ new facility at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center.  We are proud to house this valuable collection, and look forward to making it available to aviation researchers around the world.

To see examples of Mr. Levy’s photography, please see Air & Space’s tribute article on Mr. Levy.

Patricia L. Williams is a supervisory and acquisition archivist at the National Air and Space Museum.

Ballistic Missile Guidance on your Cell Phone?

If you don’t already own one, you’ve no doubt seen advertisements for them on television. I am referring to so-called “smartphones,” which can change the orientation of their display, from Portrait to Landscape, depending on how you hold them. They can do that because they contain a fingernail-sized chip inside, which senses the acceleration of gravity, and adjusts the display accordingly. Resourceful programmers have come up with a number of other applications, or “apps,” for these phones, which take advantage of the on-board ability to sense acceleration. If you only use a plain old-fashioned cell phone, you still have a number of these devices around you. Automobiles use them for airbag deployment, stability control, and braking systems. Videogame controllers use them. And digital cameras use them to stabilize an image. Because of their low cost, small size, and low power requirements, these devices have made their way into a myriad of consumer, industrial, and military products. They are called accelerometers, which measure acceleration, defined as a change in velocity. The force of gravity is also an acceleration (9.8 meters (32 feet) per second per second), which is what the smartphones sense when you rotate them.

iPhone

Smart Phones change orientation depending on how you hold them.

I was reminded of this recently when the Museum added to its collection a suite of guidance devices from the AC Spark Plug Division of General Motors. Among them was a “25 PIGA” accelerometer used in the Titan II Intercontinental Ballistic Missile. Titan IIs were also used to launch ten Gemini space missions between March 1965 and November, 1966. The accelerometer was designed at the Instrumentation Laboratory at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, under the direction of Charles Stark “Doc” Draper. The Laboratory, since 1970 known as the Charles Stark Draper Labortory, turned over the design to General Motors for construction. Similar devices were also used in the guidance system for the Apollo spacecraft.  Because of the nature of air and space flight, accelerometers are found in nearly every missile guidance system, submarine and aircraft navigation systems, and in many spacecraft as well.

Charles Draper

Charles Stark "Doc" Draper

Titan Missile Guidance System

Accelerometer, 25 PIGA, Titan II

The 25 PIGA measured acceleration by means of a gyroscope, on which was mounted a weight that enabled it to act as a pendulum. As the gyro sensed acceleration, it turned or “precessed” at a rate proportional to the craft’s velocity, which is the mathematical integral of acceleration (try to remember your high school calculus courses). Thus the name: “Pendulous Integrating Gyro Accelerometer.” The “25” referred to the diameter of the case in which the gyro was housed: 2.5 inches. The device was about the size of a .5 kg (one-pound) coffee can, and weighed about 3.4 kg (7.5 pounds).

Accelerometers were hand crafted by highly skilled workers, who were chosen for their manual dexterity and ability to assemble precision mechanical components reliably. Some parts of missile guidance systems were made of Beryllium, a light and rigid metal that has to be handled carefully as its dust is toxic.   The manufacturing process was carefully designed to ensure the safety of all who worked in the plant. Engineers at Delphi, the successor to the AC Spark Plug Division, spoke to me with great pride at the excellent safety record they maintained throughout the program. Needless to say, the accelerometers were not cheap. One published source estimates the initial cost of a complete Titan II guidance system at about $100,000 in early 1960s dollars, or perhaps a half a million dollars today. Although the Titan II ceased production years ago, similar hand-built accelerometers are in use in other ballistic missile systems that are still deployed.

Back to your cell phone: the accelerometers in them probably cost on the order of a few dollars—manufacturers are reluctant to break out the costs, for competitive reasons. And they are not made one at a time by workers highly skilled in mechanical arts, nor do they contain Beryllium. They are rather a wonderful example of a trend in mechanical engineering known as “Micro-Electro-Mechanical Systems” (MEMS): the ability to shrink mechanical devices similar to how electronic components have gotten smaller and cheaper over the years. Gyros that stabilize an image in a digital camera, for example, may be contained on a stacked chip about 5 millimeters by 5 millimeters (.2 inches by .2 inches)  square. Some of them operate on a principle similar to the way the PIGA worked: they contain vibrating masses, which move at right angles to an acceleration, just as a spinning gyro precesses at a right angle to a force.

So the next time you play with a Wii, take a photo with a digital camera, or fool around with your iPhone, think of “Doc” Draper and the skilled assembly workers at AC Spark Plug. Can you use your phone to guide a rocket to the Moon? Perhaps– if “there’s an app for that.”

Paul Ceruzzi is a curator specializing in aerospace computing and electronics in the Division of Space History at the National Air and Space Museum.

She Had a Dream: Mae C. Jemison, First African American Woman in Space

Have you ever had a dream of what you wanted to do in life? How about a wish that you hoped every day would come true?  Were you ever truly inspired by something or someone at an early age that shaped the course of your life? Living a lifelong dream does not come to many, but for Dr. Mae Jemison, space travel was always an area of fascination. Space travel was her aspiration from an early age, and together with inspiration from astronaut predecessors Guy Bluford, Jr. and Sally Ride, Jemison not only achieved her goal of flying in space, but also did so as the first African American woman on September 12, 1992.

Mae Jemison

Jemison before her shuttle flight in July 1992

Jemison’s mother was a teacher and her father, a maintenance supervisor, while she grew up in Chicago. Jemison attended the Chicago Public School System and achieved honors in math and science. Although she had the support of her family, teachers and school staff discouraged Jemison from pursuing an education in science. Speaking to a crowd of students at her Chicago alma mater, Jemison recalled the propensity of some individuals to place her in a box. “Sometimes people want to tell you to act or to be a certain way. Sometimes people want to limit you because of their own limited imaginations.”

She attended Stanford University at the age of 16 and earned her bachelor’s degree in Chemical Engineering and African American Studies. She went on to receive her medical degree from Cornell University and served two years in the Peace Corps in West Africa as a staff physician.  Her responsibilities there included managing the health care delivery system for the Peace Corps and the U.S. Embassy in Liberia and Sierra Leone.  Her background includes research in nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy, reproductive biology, and a Hepatitis B and rabies vaccine.

In the wake of the Space Shuttle Challenger tragedy, Jemison left her private medical practice in Los Angeles and applied to become an astronaut candidate. She was one of 15 chosen from a pool of 2,000 applicants in 1988. She completed the intensive training, eventually being assigned to STS-47, a Spacelab Life Sciences mission. On this eight-day flight Jemison served as a science mission specialist and carried out experiments on the effects of space motion sickness, frog fertilization in space, and bone loss during spaceflight.

The astronauts often bring along small personal mementos. Jemison chose several that were special to her:  a flag from the Organization of African Unity, an Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority banner, and proclamations from the Chicago Public School System and the DuSable Museum of African American History.

Despite all of her achievements, and the fact that Jemison has served as an astronaut, she still confronts institutionalized prejudice similar to what she experienced as a student in Chicago. After Jemison returned from space, Jemison visited an elementary school and the principal told her that, at his school, he planned to have male teachers inform the children about the opportunities at Space Camp since men are more knowledgeable in science.  Jemison asserted that one has to be mindful of preconceived ideas and perceptions of individuals.

After leaving NASA, Dr. Jemison went on to teach at Dartmouth College, formed a company that researches advanced technologies, is an active public speaker, and continues to urge students to pursue their dreams and pursue math and science.  She stresses the importance of excelling in school.  Because of her achievements, a school in Detroit was named in her honor, the Mae C. Jemison Academy. Dr. Jemison gladly accepted the position of role model and hoped to remind other African Americans that the sky is the limit!

Mae Jemison

STS-47 Spacelab-J

Vickie Lindsey is an intern in the Space History Division.