Monthly Archive for October, 2010

Watch the Skies for Flying Pumpkins!

black cats and balloonsHallowe’en Joys – lithographic postcard, 1911.

Black cats pilot a squadron of flying jack-o’-lanterns in this fairly unscary Halloween postcard – a young fellow in Lewiston, Maine named Charles sent it to his Aunt Nettie ninety-nine years ago.  Beyond postcards, balloons have inspired artists of all sorts since they first took to the skies – have a look at some of the Air and Space Museum’s other superb works of balloon art, and have a happy Halloween.

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

The Airplane and Streamlined Design

To American industrial designers of the 1930s airplanes were not simply machines of transport, but emblems of technological innovation and progress. The National Air and Space Museum’s newly redone Barron Hilton Pioneers of Flight Gallery includes a unit devoted to “The Airplane and Streamlined Design,” which demonstrates how industrial designers appropriated the imagery of the modern airliner for their products.

streamline

The dynamic look of streamlined aircraft captured the imagination of industrial designers in the 1920s and the 1930s, who translated that look into a new design expression. They borrowed motifs from the airplane’s curvilinear appearance and incorporated them into railroad locomotives, automobiles, architecture, appliances, and household objects.

From the time of George Cayley, a nineteenth-century British aeronautical experimenter who coined the phrase “solid of least resistance,” aircraft designers had searched for a shape that would create the least drag—the resistance to a body’s movement through air. The ultimate result was the Douglas DC-3 (an example of which is on view in the Museum’s America by Air exhibit at the National Mall building), the most advanced in a line of streamlined designs that went back to the Deperdussin Racer of 1913. The DC-3 boasted several important technological advances, but its shiny metallic look, with a pronounced parabolic curve, suggested speed and motion.

In his 1932 book Horizons, industrial designer Norman Bel Geddes wrote that “when the design of an object is in keeping with the purpose it serves, it appeals to us as having a distinctive kind of beauty. That is why we are impressed by the stirring beauty of airplanes. The underlying principle of the emotional response that the airplane stirs in us would seem to be the same as that which accounts for the emotional effect of the finest architecture—the form, proportion, and color best suited to that object’s purpose.”

And in 1940 Walter Dorwin Teague spoke directly of the DC-3 as an example of the pleasurable connotations of modern aircraft and cited “the constant ratios of proportion” and “the quality of line which we find most highly developed  … in a Douglas transport plane, where you see the same type of form repeated in the engine and in the fuselage, in the wings and the tail—the same line recurring again and again; that long line with a sharp parabolic curve at the end, which we have come into the habit of calling ‘streamline.’”

Bel Geddes and contemporary designers like Teague, Raymond Loewy, Henry Dreyfuss, and others began to apply the functionality and imagery of aerodynamics to the design of cars, trains, and mass-produced merchandise. These artist/businessmen wanted to take advantage of the DC-3’s streamlined look to create a new design expression as a way to sell products and services during the Great Depression. The unstated message of streamlining was an optimistic one: advanced technology as exemplified by modern streamlined aircraft would help to move the country out of its economic despair.

Streamlined Automobiles

In 1933, the Chrysler Corporation undertook the design of the first truly mass‑produced streamlined automobile, the Chrysler Airflow, under the leadership of Carl Breer. The Airflow had a welded, trussed-box frame construction (designed by Alexander Klemin, head of the Daniel Guggenheim School of Aeronautics at New York University) in which girders and body panels were integrated into a shallow frame, yielding a highly rigid but sturdy structure. The Airflow’s style grew out of hundreds of wind tunnel tests that were completed on models of the automobile by the design team to reduce drag and noise and to improve stability; these features were promoted in advertising as growing out of its functional design.

Streamlined Trains

In 1936, Raymond Loewy and the engineering staff of the Pennsylvania Railroad designed the K4S streamlined shroud for the steam locomotive that pulled the famous Broadway Limited train. In 1938, Loewy collaborated on the design of the S‑1 locomotive, a sleek horizontally lined machine reputed to be the “largest and fastest high‑speed steam engine ever to be placed in service in this country.” Henry Dreyfuss worked for the New York Central Railroad to design the J3A locomotives that hauled the Twentieth Century Limited. These, however, were after-the-fact imitations of the Union Pacific Railroad’s truly innovative M10000 City of Salina (1934) and the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad’s Zephyr (1934). Both were powered by diesel-electric locomotives, wind tunnel tested, and, like modern aircraft, designed with monocoque construction (i.e., a hollow structure without internal bracing in which all of most of the stresses are carried by the skin).

Streamlined Consumer Products

By the middle to late 1930s, streamlining was also becoming common in a number of consumer goods. Designers employed the metaphor of streamlining to design refrigerators, radios, electric clocks, and other goods, using such elements as speed lines—three parallel lines in metal to connote motion; rounded corners; teardrop shapes; new materials—polished metal alloys, bakelite, vitriolite, and glass block; and metal stamping and casting processes. (Examples of these, such as the Petipoint Flat Iron, Firestone Air Chief Radio, Kodak Bullet Camera, designed by Walter Dorwin Teague, Westinghouse Table Fan, and Sunbeam T9 Toaster, are shown in “The Airplane and Streamlined Design” pictured above.)

The New York World’s Fair

Aquabelles

Modern aircraft played an important part in the 1939-1940 New York World’s Fair, the showplace of the streamline style in American culture. Here, the Aquabelles, a group of swimming performers, and U.S. Army Air Corps officers pose on the wing and streamlined engine nacelle of the Boeing XB-15 long-range bomber.

The 1939-40 New York World’s Fair in Flushing Meadows was the showplace and culmination of the streamline style in American culture. Among the fair’s many streamlined buildings was the General Motors Pavilion, designed by Albert Kahn Associates and Bel Geddes. In the pavilion’s Futurama exhibit, a visitor could board a rubber-tired train and embark on a 15-minute simulated airplane flight westward over a vast futuristic diorama of  the U.S. in 1960. This was a streamlined country of 14-lane superhighways divided into 50-, 75-, and 100-mph traffic lanes with a metropolis dominated by streamlined skyscrapers.

The fair’s utopian prospect of a better future through technological progress did not materialize. The threat of an impending world war hung palpably over the Flushing Meadows fairground, and concerns of world survival had by 1940 begun to take precedence over the promise of a streamlined future.

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

Learning to Capture the Sun

The Public Observatory Project is just over a year old now, and in that time we’ve been  experimenting with the telescope to discover what is visible in the daytime sky and devise ways that our visitors can have the best experience possible.  One of our goals is to use our equipment to take images of the Sun, so that we can share our star’s day-to-day activities with the visiting public as well as those who can’t make it to the Mall to look through our telescopes.  We wanted to capture true-to-life images of the Sun as it appears through our telescope and make interesting features clearer and more apparent.

It would be dangerous to use a normal telescope to look at the Sun because the Sun’s concentrated and unfiltered light would damage your eyes.  One of the tools we use to look at the Sun safely is our Lunt Solar Systems hydrogen-alpha telescope that filters out all but one wavelength of red light. This makes it safe for viewing a part of the Sun’s atmosphere, called the chromosphere.  To take images of the Sun, I started out with this telescope, as well as a Lumenera SKYnyx 2-0 Color camera that fits where the eyepiece usually goes. We also have a laptop with software to control the camera, called Lucam Recorder.  With these in hand, I set off to take some of my first images of the Sun.

sun

This image of two prominences was taken on June 8, 2010.

Through some experimentation, I found out that different exposure settings revealed very different details on the Sun. First I cranked up the exposure to capture the faint prominences coming off the edge of the Sun and took a series of images. Next, I turned down the exposure to what I thought was an appropriate level to capture details on the Sun’s surface before taking a second series of images. I used a processing program called the GIMP to merge the two images by selecting the disk detail and moving it on top of the prominence image.  But, something wasn’t quite right. This didn’t look much like what I was seeing with my own eyes. So, I turned to a local amateur solar imaging expert and friend of the National Air and Space Museum: Greg Piepol.

Greg’s solar imaging work, which you can check out on his website sungazer.net, has been praised for its beauty and attention to detail. My colleague at the Observatory and fellow Sun imager, Katie Moore, and I were thrilled that he agreed to come into the Museum and show us how he captures such stunning images.

Greg taught us several things that improved our imaging. The first and most important was that we had been drastically overexposing the disk of the Sun, which washed out the details we were trying to capture. Greg also taught us how to better use an image stacking program called Registax, which takes individual frames from a movie file and stacks them together, thereby removing a lot of noise caused by Earth’s turbulent atmosphere. Astronomers call this “seeing,” which is what makes the stars twinkle. He also showed us other image processing techniques in the GIMP, such as levels adjustment and color correcting that brought out details on the Sun.

sun

This image was taken on July 28, 2010, the day after Greg Piepol came to visit. The small dark Sunspot near the top of the disk is about the same size as the Earth!

This was most certainly closer to what we had seen in the telescope. But of course, as they say, practice makes perfect. Over the next few months I took pictures as often as I could. I learned the extreme importance of making fine adjustments to the filters inside the telescope to get exactly the right details. I learned the advantages of using a double-stacked filter on top of our telescope to help make the darker wispy absorptive lines in the solar atmosphere, called filaments, truly pop out.  I also learned the importance of careful processing to coax the most detail possible out of the raw data.  It is interesting to compare the final product to one of the raw, unprocessed images to see what a difference it makes.

This is a single frame from the raw video before the image is processed

This is a single frame from the raw video before the image is processed

sun

This final processed image of a Sunspot was taken on July 30, 2010

A large prominence on the Sun, taken on September 15, 2010

A large prominence on the Sun, taken on September 15, 2010

This mosaic of 2 images highlights a large Sunspot group, as well as a dark filament in the Sun’s chromosphere.

This mosaic of 2 images highlights a large Sunspot group, as well as a dark filament in the Sun’s chromosphere.

And so, the journey continues! The Sun is always changing, and there are always more techniques to be learned and perfected. If you get the chance, come see the Sun for yourself at the Public Observatory, which is open Thursday through Sunday, 11 am to 3pm for the month of October, weather permitting.  We are ordering an upgraded camera and some new software to better process these images, so be on the lookout for new images online!

Erin Braswell is an Astronomy Educator at the National Air and Space Museum.

Chuck Yeager

On October 14, 1947, Charles E. “Chuck” Yeager became the first person to fly faster than the speed of sound in his Bell X-1, which he named Glamorous Glennis, in tribute to his wife. He reached a speed of 1,127 kilometers (700 miles) per hour, or Mach 1.06, at an altitude of 13,000 meters (43,000 feet).

Chuck Yeager

Charles "Chuck" Yeager with Bell X-1.

Air-launched at an altitude of 7,000 meters (23,000 feet) from the bomb bay of a Boeing B-29, the X-1 used its rocket engine to climb to its test altitude. It flew a total of 78 times, and on March 26, 1948, with Yeager at the controls, it attained a speed of 1,540 kilometers (957 miles) per hour, Mach 1.45, at an altitude of 21,900 meters (71,900 feet). This was the highest velocity and altitude reached by a manned airplane up to that time.

Bell X-1 Cockpit

Cockpit of the Bell X-1

The Glamorous Glennis was donated to the Museum in 1950, and has been suspended from the ceiling in the Milestones of Flight gallery since the building on the National Mall opened in 1976.

Eugene J. Bullard

October 12, 2010, marks the forty-ninth anniversary of the death of Eugene Jacques Bullard at the age of 67. Bullard is considered to be the first African-American military pilot to fly in combat, and the only African-American pilot in World War I. Ironically, he never flew for the United States.

Born October 9, 1895, in Columbus, Georgia, to William Bullard, a former slave, and Josephine Bullard, Eugene’s early youth was unhappy. He made several unsuccessful attempts to run away from home, one of which resulted in his being returned home and beaten by his father.

In 1906, at the age of 11, Bullard ran away for good, and for the next six years, he wandered the South in search of freedom. In 1912 he stowed away on the Marta Russ, a German freighter bound for Hamburg, and ended up in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there  he made his way to London, where he  worked as a boxer and slapstick performer in Belle Davis’s Freedman Pickaninnies, an African American entertainment troupe. In 1913, Bullard went to France for a boxing match. Settling in Paris, he became so comfortable with French customs that he decided to make a home there. He later wrote, “… it seemed to me that French democracy influenced the minds of both black and white Americans there and helped us all act like brothers.”

After World War I had begun in the summer of 1914, Bullard enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. While serving with the 170th Infantry Regiment, Bullard fought in the  the Battle of Verdun (February to December 1916), where he was wounded seriously. He was taken from the battlefield and sent to Lyon to recuperate. While on leave in Paris, Bullard bet a friend $2,000 that despite his color he could enlist in the French flying service. Bullard’s determination paid off, and in November 1916 he entered the Aéronautique Militaire.

Eugene Bullard

Eugene Bullard

Bullard began flight training at Tours in 1916 and received his wings in May 1917. He was first assigned to Escadrille Spa 93, and then to Escadrille Spa 85 in September 1917, where he remained until he left the Aéronautique Militaire. In November 1917, Bullard claimed two aerial victories, a Fokker Triplane and a Pfalz D.III, but neither could be confirmed. (Some accounts say that one victory was confirmed.) During his flying days, Bullard is said to have had an insignia on his Spad 7 C.1 that portrayed a heart with a dagger running through it and the slogan “All Blood Runs Red.”  Reportedly, Bullard flew with a mascot, a Rhesus Monkey named “Jimmy.”

Eugene Bullard

Eugene Bullard with his Rhesus monkey, Jimmy

After the United States entered the war in 1917, Bullard attempted to join the U.S. Air Service, but he was not accepted, ostensibly because he was an enlisted man, and the Air Service required pilots to be officers and hold at least the rank of First Lieutenant. In actuality, he was rejected because of the racial prejudice that existed in the American military during that time. Bullard returned to the Aéronautique Militaire, but he was summarily removed after an apparent confrontation with a French officer. He returned to the 170th Infantry Regiment until his discharge in October 1919.

After the war Bullard remained in France, where he worked in a nightclub called Zelli’s in the Montmartre district of Paris, owned a nightclub (Le Grand Duc) and an American-style bar (L’Escadrille), operated an athletic club, and married a French woman, Marcelle de Straumann. During this time Bullard rubbed elbows with notables like Langston Hughes, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Josephine Baker.

By the late 1930s, however, the clouds of war began to change Bullard’s life dramatically. Even before World War II officially began in 1939, Bullard became involved in espionage activities against French fifth columnists who supported the Nazis. When war came he enlisted as a machine gunner in the 51st Infantry Regiment, and was severely wounded by an exploding artillery shell.  Fearing capture by the Nazis, he made his way to Spain, Portugal, and eventually the United States, settling in the Harlem district of New York City.

After his arrival in New York, Bullard worked as a security guard and longshoreman. In the post-World War II years, Bullard took up the cause of civil rights. In the summer of 1949, he was involved in an altercation with the police and a racist mob at a Paul Robeson concert in Peekskill, New York, in which he was beaten by police. Another incident involved a bus driver who ordered Bullard to sit the back of his bus. These events left Bullard deeply disillusioned with the United States, and he returned to France, but was unable to resume his former life there.

During his lifetime, the French showered Bullard with honors, and in 1954, he was one of three men chosen to relight the everlasting flame at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Paris. In October 1959 he was made a knight of the Legion of Honor, the highest ranking order and decoration bestowed by France. It was the fifteenth decoration given to him by the French government.

In the epilogue to his well-researched book, Eugene Bullard, Black Expatriate in Jazz-Age Paris (Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 2000), Craig Lloyd points out the poignancy of Bullard’s situation in the United States: “The contrast between Eugene Bullard’s unrewarding years of toil and trouble early and late in life in the United States and his quarter-century of much-heralded achievement in France illustrates dramatically … the crippling disabilities imposed on the descendants of Americans of African ancestry … .”

In 1992, the McDonnell Douglas Corporation donated to the National Air and Space Museum a bronze portrait head of Bullard, created by Eddie Dixon, an African American sculptor. This work is displayed in the museum’s Legend, Memory and the Great War in the Air gallery.

Eugene Bullard

Bronze sculpture of Eugene Jacques Bullard, currently on view at the National Mall Building

Postscript:

On September 14, 1994, Bullard was posthumously commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force. A display case in the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force in Dayton, Ohio, honors him.

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

Seeing Beneath the Surface of the Moon

“Remote sensing” is a term used to describe many different types of observations carried out at a distance. Aerial photos, satellite images of the Earth and planets, and telescope views of our solar system are all forms of remote sensing used to understand geology, climate, hazards, and changes over time. Not all remote observations use the wavelengths of light visible to humans; there is a wealth of information contained in how a surface reflects or emits radiation across the spectrum from radio waves to gamma radiation. Scientists at the National Air and Space Museum’s Center for Earth and Planetary Studies use radar signals, transmitted from satellites in lunar orbit or from the largest radio dishes on Earth, to probe below the dusty surface of the Moon. Radio waves, which have a much longer wavelength than visible light (the Museum’s research uses signals with 12.6-centimeter and 70-centimeter wavelengths), penetrate up to 30-40 meters into dry material and reflect from buried layers or rocks suspended in the thick dust. By carefully measuring the time between the transmitted and received radar signals, and the subtle changes in frequency caused by the rotation of the Moon, the radar “echoes” can be assembled into an image that resembles a photograph, but revealing aspects of lunar geology often hidden from optical cameras. Studies using the new radar maps trace the outlines of ancient lava flows now buried by material hurled from giant impact craters, find rocky material in resource-rich areas that might pose hazards to robotic exploration, and “light up” for the first time areas near the poles that are in permanent shadow from the Sun. Ongoing work suggests that some areas of the smooth lunar “seas,” or maria, may have very rugged, boulder-covered lava flows hidden by billions of years of overlying dust; how such rough deposits might form remains a mystery. The lessons learned from studies of the Moon are guiding efforts to design a radar sensor for Mars that will look beneath that dust-covered surface to reveal additional geologic signatures of past and present water.

Aristoteles

A 12.6-centimeter wavelength radar view of the lunar crater Aristoteles (87 km diameter). Rugged areas, such the northern interior wall of the crater, appear bright to the radar, and smooth or dusty parts of the surrounding region appear dark. The radar lighting comes from the lower left, so the walls of the crater cast "radar shadows" just as they would for illumination by the Sun. The surrounding clusters and chains of smaller craters were formed by debris ejected from the main crater.

Bruce Campbell is a geologist in the Center for Earth and Planetary Studies at the National Air and Space Museum.