Another Journey for John Glenn’s Ansco Camera

Nearly 50 years ago, John Glenn purchased a camera at a drug store that served as the first astronomical experiment performed by a human in space. That three-orbit voyage for Glenn included two cameras, one the Ansco he purchased and the other a Leica supplied by NASA. The flight not only kicked off decades of orbital experiences for U.S. astronauts, but also science experiments, observations, and thousands of rolls of film and digital files created through hand-held photography. The results of those experiments and the photos taken are what people left on Earth use even today to understand human spaceflight.

Recently, I had the opportunity to accompany the Secretary of the Smithsonian, Wayne Clough, to Congress for his testimony to the House Appropriations subcommittee on Interior and Environment, and Related Agencies. As part of the testimony, I presented John Glenn’s Ansco camera as one example of the artifacts we use at the National Air and Space Museum to talk about the 50th anniversary of the first human spaceflight. I was even given time to relate the full story of this camera to the Subcommittee members, which was a real honor. For me, this is a key artifact in the story I am working on for my PhD dissertation at George Mason University, making the experience invaluable. For the camera, it was one perhaps final journey on top of those three historic orbits in Friendship 7.

 

Ansco Camera

John Glenn's Ansco camera in front of "Friendship 7"

 

As a curator, two things make this camera an interesting artifact to study and interpret for our exhibits and in my dissertation. First, as John Glenn relates the story of this time in his autobiography and elsewhere, NASA had trouble figuring out how an astronaut could use a camera in space. Few cameras on the market in the early 1960s were simple enough to use on Earth to make them easy to use in microgravity. Glenn found this Ansco at a Cocoa Beach drug store where he had stopped after a haircut to grab a few things. The Ansco Autoset (actually a Minolta Hi-Matic, repackaged by the New York-based Ansco Company) had automatic exposure settings, so Glenn would not need to change the f-stops on the camera during an already busy mission plan. To make the camera usable with his bulky astronaut gloves, engineers flipped the camera upside down so they could attach a pistol grip and special buttons to control the shutter and film advance. They even moved the eyepiece to the bottom (now the top) of the camera so Glenn could target the constellation Orion for the spectrographic ultraviolet photography he was to perform. In this case, we see how in the early days of NASA, astronauts developed a very personal role in their missions, and also how innovative and creative solutions became for making what we think of as basic tasks easy to do in space.

The other fascinating part of this artifact’s story is how confused it became over the 50 years since it flew. Little is said by Senator Glenn about the Leica camera he also used in space, which actually captured the standard 35mm images we see in books and newspapers. It was not modified as much, with only a larger eyepiece put on top to make it easier to use with his spacesuit visor down. Yet in newspaper stories, books, magazines, and even our own artifact records at the Museum, it seemed people easily interchanged the cameras for each other in the story of photography on Friendship 7. Curator Michael Neufeld nailed this down once and for all with his essay in our book After Sputnik, when he showed how the Ansco camera has a special prism lens attached for the ultraviolet photography, while the Leica has a standard 50mm lens on it.

 

Leica Camera

Leica camera used by John Glenn on his Mercury flight

 

This experience with the Ansco camera on Capitol Hill was a truly unique day in my career, and I owe a special thanks to Samantha Snell from our Collections Division for managing the safe transport and handling of the camera. Also, to Malcolm Collum, our head conservator, for the fantastically built traveling case, and Derrick Fiedler of our Exhibits Production division for another perfect display stand. I am grateful for the opportunity to share the story of one of our priceless and unique artifacts we are entrusted by the American people to preserve and interpret.

Jennifer Levasseur is a museum specialist in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum, and is responsible curator for the Museum’s collection of space cameras and early human spaceflight astronaut equipment.

 

Mr. Lincoln’s Air Force: Top 10 Reasons to visit the Museum on June 11th

How do the National Air and Space Museum and the Civil War intersect?  Come find out as we tell the story of the Union Balloon Corps  founded in June 1861 by President Abraham Lincoln. 150 years ago next month Thaddeus Lowe demonstrated ballooning to President Lincoln on a spot just north from where the Museum now stands on the National Mall.

The Civil War themed family day for all ages, called Mr. Lincoln’s Air Force, will take place Saturday June 11th, 2011 from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

There are possibly 101 reasons to come to the family day, but here are the top ten:

10. Learn about the Union Balloon Corps because it would be a great conversation starter at your next summer picnic.

Thaddeus Lowe

Lowe's balloon the Intrepid being inflated at Fair Oaks, Virginia, May 1862

9. Experience what D.C. was like in 1861 through amazing photographs and walking tours with National Park Service Rangers.

8. Learn how Civil War ballooning impacted the future of espionage techniques.

 

Thaddeus Lowe

Thaddeus Lowe goes aloft aboard the balloon Intrepid to observe Confederate activity during the Battle of Fair Oaks, May 31-June 1, 1862.

7. Build your own balloon replica from strawberry baskets, pipe cleaners, and paper plates.

6. Indulge your inner-Civil War buff, pull out the Union soldier costume that you’ve never been able to wear, until now.

5. Design and construct your own binoculars and see a pair actually used by Thaddeus Lowe.

4. Meet “Abraham Lincoln” and ask him all those questions you’ve been meaning to ask since you read Team of Rivals.

3. Meet author Gail Jarrow who will be signing her book, Lincoln’s Flying Spies: Thaddeus Lowe and the Civil War Balloon Corps.

2. Talk with “Thaddeus Lowe” and members of his Balloon Corps and find out how balloons managed to stay aloft during battles.

 

Thaddeus Lowe

Aeronaut Thaddeus S.C. Lowe

1. See a massive balloon inflated on the National Mall. It probably won’t happen again for another 150 years so make sure you see it on June 11th!

More about this historic event.

Emily Kotecki is the family day programs intern at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, and a graduate student at The George Washington University studying museum education.

Reengineering Humanity

Since Howard McCurdy and I co-authored Robots in Space: Technology, Evolution, and Interplanetary Travel (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), I have been interested in the possible merger of humans and robots into a single entity to undertake space exploration. The dichotomy between humans and robots is really a product of industrial age thinking and the accompanying emphasis on machines that serve humankind. In a post-industrial age we might rethink this issue and reach a new consensus.

Studies in artificial intelligence are leading some to question whether computers that drive technologically sophisticated robots might become so intelligent in the twenty-first century as to acquire sentient qualities. Intellectuals such as Ray Kurzweil note that we are on the verge of creating a new silicon-based life form. It might even include downloading human memory into computers, and creating new and virtual forms of life.

Robonaut

NASA has always contended that space exploration will require both humans and robots together. Here the modern dextrous robot, Robonaut, faces off with an astronaut in what some contend will eventually become a grudge match as robots become more capable with time.

How might we remake the human body to more effectively meet the rigors of space exploration through the adaptation of technology? The term “cyborg” was coined in 1960 by Nathan Kline and Manfred Clynes in a study for NASA. In particular, Kline and Clynes thought that through the use of electronic implants they might even be able to modify humans sufficient to survive in space’s harsh environment.

 

Mars Rover

Our robot emissaries have gone to every planet of the solar system and are engaged in myriad tasks on our behalf here on Earth. What might the future hold for human existence as robots and humans become more intertwined over time? Here a mock-up of the Mars Exploration Rover is displayed in the National Air and Space Museum.

But there is much more to this than the prospects for space exploration. Indeed, there is a huge debate taking place about reengineering humans to extend life, perhaps even to defeat the aging process and gain near immortality.

Already many of us are cyborgs, certainly I am one. I had cataract surgery on both eyes and view the world through artificial lenses. Without that modification I would be blind. That problem arose because I am diabetic, and my ability to deal with that chronic condition is greatly enhanced—made essentially normal—through medications I take and technology I use to monitor my blood sugar. Without these technological enhancements I might well be dead. I have two stints in my heart, and without question, had there not been some artificial intervention I would no longer be alive. How many others have been rescued from death through science and technology, their bodies modified so they can extend their lives? I think it is more common than most people believe.

This raises the fundamental question, what possibilities for further enhancement/life extension will become possible in the twenty-first century and how will Americans respond to these possibilities?

In the last thirty-some years scientists researching human biology have altered our understanding of this possibility. These include not only the decoding of the human genome for the improvement of human life, but also the possibilities of life extension for decades and perhaps centuries. Those who advocate life extension see a “brave new world,” pun intended, in which all are healthy, happy, and wise. They view it as the next stage in human evolution. It is a heady goal, one that has consumed some billionaires and fueled a revolution in bio-technology. Public advocates in the United States range from billionaire William Haseltine to Ray Kurzweil, but include thousands more in a much less well-known subculture.

Advocacy of bio-utopian ideas opens a wide array of ethical considerations, and opposition to it has ensured a rollicking debate between the extreme positions. Bio-Luddites question the morality of altering the human body through genetics, chemicals, or technology. They recall images of Nazi eugenics and the selective breeding of humans. Those in favor, of course, emphasize the positive results of intervention in whatever form it might take.

For advocates, the advantages are obvious. Might we create babies free of genetic defects, eliminate most of the diseases that now decimate our population, and overcome the three-score and ten life-expectancy that most people in the world have to contend with?

The use of drugs, careful eugenics, technological enhancement, and biotech innovations also harbor questions and fears, as anything new and different has always done. For opponents it raises complex moral, ethical, and even religious questions. However the people of the U.S. eventually come down on this issue will dictate whether or not  the nation participates in this next fundamental transformation in human history. The biotech revolution has the potential to be more significant than the Industrial Revolution that the United States embraced.

The battle lines in this debate are already being drawn, and skirmishes over stem cell research, pharmaceuticals, cloning, and related innovations are already underway. These are nothing compared to possible future controversies. What do we do once we are presented with cloned human beings? Are those individuals citizens of the United States? What rights do they have? What will prospective parents do once they have the capability through mastery of the human genome to ensure that birth defects are eliminated in their fetuses? What if they had the capability to select genes for greater intelligence for their fetuses? Would they do so? Should they be allowed to do so? These are only some of the coming challenges.

Is it possible to ignore this coming future, as the bio-Luddites would have us do? I don’t believe that will be possible in the next 100 years. The manner in which American society decides these challenges will chart the course for the future of the United States. Can we trust in democratic institutions, that through them we might reach decisions that will preserve human freedom and make possible a hopeful future? Through this process we might reach decisions on which of these potentials should be mandatory for all Americans, which should be forbidden, and which might be voluntary but carefully regulated.

Thus far, there is no consensus on either the questions or their answers. Some embrace the potential changes and look forward to having these new choices. Others oppose them, suggesting that it was “not nice to mess with Mother Nature.” Some believe we are “playing God” by even thinking about such potentialities. The diversity of responses mirror the political divisions in larger society, and future debates promise to be both difficult and trying.

Reengineering humanity may well take place, but the debate starting to emerge in modern American society promises considerable nastiness. Where will the future take humanity?

Roger Launius is a senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

 

 

Collecting Popular Culture

From April 20 to April 23, curators from the Aeronautics Division and the Space History Division attended the 2011 National Conference of the Popular Culture Association/American Culture Association (PCA/ACA) in San Antonio, Texas. Tom Crouch of the Aeronautics Division organized a session on museum collecting and collectors titled “Collecting the Popular Culture of Flight at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum,” and the participants presented papers on collections that we curate. Tom spoke about the Balloonomania Collection of balloon-related furniture and furnishings; Alex Spencer of the Aeronautics Division talked about the Mother Tusch Collection, which contains many significant personal artifacts of military aviation; Margaret Weitekamp of the Space History Division discussed the O’Harro Collection of space memorabilia and popular culture; and I talked about the Stanley King Collection of Lindbergh memorabilia and popular culture.

 

Balloonomania

This colorful early 19th-century ceramic plate, part of the Museum's Balloonomania Collection, depicts the 1804 ascension in Paris of Joseph Louis Gay-Lussac and Jean-Baptiste Biot in an early scientific investigation of the Earth’s atmosphere.

This PCA/ACA meeting was one of the largest academic conferences I had ever attended, and a far cry from the small, homey gatherings of the organization I went to in the mid to late 1980s in Charleston and St. Louis. The 2011 meeting sessions usually began at 8:00 am and went on until very late in the evening every day, occupied conference rooms in two major San Antonio hotels, and covered a wealth of areas from “Adaptation (Film, TV, Literature & Electronic Gaming)” to “World War I & II.” In between were panels on such things as “Fat Studies,” “Grateful Dead,” the “Vampire in Literature,” and the perhaps more prosaic “Visual Arts in the West.” Our session fell into the “Collecting and Collectibles” area.

PCA began in the early 1970s as a reaction to what was perceived to be the elitism of the American Studies Association in favor of traditional American literature, and its disregard for new forms of expression such as material culture, popular music, movies, and comics. In 1979, the PCA began to partner with the American Culture Association and sponsored the first PCA/ACA Conference at Michigan State University. A number of people were involved in the formation of PCA/ACA, but Professors Ray Browne of Bowling Green State University and Russell Nye of Michigan State were the primary movers and shakers for the idea that popular culture deserved academic recognition as a topic of study. The PCA/ACA now has seven regional organizations, and is affiliated with four international popular culture organizations in Australia/New Zealand, East Asia, Canada, and Europe. Both organizations publish journals: The Journal of Popular Culture and The Journal of American Culture.

In museum circles, popular culture suffered the same fate as it did in academia. It was caught up in the “high culture” versus “low culture” debate, originated by literary critic Dwight Macdonald and others, in which high culture—classical art and literature, classical music, ballet, theater, etc.—was thought to be more worth considering than low culture—popular literature, movies, popular music, comics, etc. At the Smithsonian’s Museum of History and Technology (the predecessor of the Museum of American History), the story is told of how many curators were not in favor of collecting American political memorabilia because they considered it “junk.” I dare say this was true in other Smithsonian museums, including the National Air and Space Museum. Ironically, the Museum had been collecting “popular culture” for years, but calling it something else. In 1974, for example, the Museum accepted a donation from Paramount Pictures of the original Starship Enterprise model from the television program Star Trek. In the 1990s, the Museum did two major popular culture exhibitions, Star Trek (1992), and Star Wars: The Magic of Myth (1997), which were immensely well-liked and full of intellectual content, but looked on somewhat disapprovingly in some quarters of the Museum. But just as academic fashion changes over time, so did museum consideration of popular culture as a worthy topic of collecting, research, and exhibition. Now Margaret Weitekamp holds a curatorial title that indicates she is responsible for collecting social and cultural artifacts; i.e., popular culture.

 

Starship Enterprise Model

This 3.4 meter (11-foot) model of the fictional Starship "Enterprise" from the weekly television series "Star Trek" was donated to the National Air and Space Museum in 1974 by Paramount Pictures. To illustrate how popular culture can often impinge on real life, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) was persuaded by a write-in campaign to change the name of the spaces shuttle full-scale test vehicle on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center from "Constitution" to "Enterprise."

Although even the PCA/ACA disputes the definition of the term, preferring to create subject areas of academic interest, I do think there is some agreement that popular culture is influenced by industries that disseminate cultural material, for example, the film, television, and publishing industries, as well as the news media. It could even be described as not merely a cumulative product of those industries, but the result of a continuing interaction between them and the people of the society that consume the products. Popular culture is also a way to approach American consumer culture; i.e., the culture that surrounds American commerce, esp. advertising, marketing, merchandising, and the media, and its influence on American society. But even such definitions do not go far enough in my estimation.

However one wants to define it, there are a number of ways to rationalize collecting popular culture in a museum. In the case of the Stanley King Collection, the objects are a way of understanding the consumer tastes of Americans and to making sense of the idea of celebrity. The King Collection also tells us how dominant cultural images like aviation and personalities like Charles A. Lindbergh were used to sell all manner of goods. Lindbergh endorsed very few products, and those were related directly to aviation. Either he didn’t know or didn’t care that someone was making money from his celebrity. In our era, however, celebrities tend to keep a tight rein on their images or “brand,” and infringement is likely to prompt a lawsuit. Nevertheless, a good deal of popular culture merchandise that is unlicensed and unauthorized manages to find its way to the market place.

 

"Spirit of St. Louis" Toys

Four objects from the Stanley King Collection. Clockwise from bottom left: metal roll toy likeness of the "Spirit of St. Louis" with figure; windup metal toy "Spirit" with a New York-Paris map on wing; glass candy container in the shape of an airplane; puzzle game that depicts the flight paths of Lindbergh and his competitors for the Orteig Prize—Richard Byrd and Clarence Chamberlin.

The O’Harro Collection is somewhat different from the King Collection, even though it too consists of commercially-produced materials. Jules Verne’s De La Terra á la Lune (From the Earth to the Moon) is said to have stirred visionaries of modern rocketry like Tsiolkovski, Oberth, and Goddard. Similarly, space science fiction heroes of the 1930s, represented in the O’Harro Collection by Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, stimulated American youth, and provided a glimpse at how space travel was imagined in the days before we had the technology to explore the Moon and distant planets. For a later era, the popular culture of the Star Trek television series (1966 to 1969) and the Star Wars trilogy (1977, 1980, 1983) indicates that space science fiction capitalized on the public interest in space travel prompted by the advent of the U.S. space program and the 1969 landing on the Moon.

 

Ray Guns

Four toy ray guns from the Museum's space popular culture collection illustrate how varied the colors, shapes, and designs of imagined space toys can be.

The Balloonomania Collection and the Mother Tusch Collection are rather different from the consumer-oriented popular culture of the King and O’Harro collections. The Balloonomania Collection of 18th century furniture and furnishings was in a sense both a popular and preindustrial commercial response to the advent of balloon flight, and the first glimpse of the Earth from above the planet. The Mother Tusch Collection represents the personal crusade of a woman who thought of herself as a mother image to hundreds of military aviators during and after World War I, and of the pilots’ response in giving her personal items in gratitude for her many kindnesses.

 

Mother Tusch

Mary E. “Mother” Tusch is shown here shortly before her collection was sent to Washington in 1947. She is surrounded by the aviation memorabilia that she avidly collected, especially the personal items given to her by the many military pilots who trained at the U.S. School of Military Aeronautics at the University of California at Berkeley campus during WWI. These objects, now in the Museum's collection, were meant to show the aviators’ gratitude for her maternal concern for them, hence the name “Mother” Tusch.

Further historical investigation of commercially-produced popular culture is necessary before we have a complete picture. Some questions to consider: who are the manufacturers of these products? Is there a relationship between the poplar objects of aviation and spaceflight and other collectibles that represent a dominant cultural image? Were these items advertised, if so, how were they advertised? What were the conditions of the workers who produced these items? Are these or similar types of materials being manufactured today?

The Museum does not have a collections fund to purchase items like these, which are likely to be found in the hands of collectors. Thus, subsequent acquisition of popular culture objects depends largely on the generosity of people like Michael O’Harro and Stanley King. Both curatorial divisions, however, have clearly-articulated collecting plans that specify what types of popular culture the Museum wishes to collect. The Aeronautics Division, for example, is especially interested in obtaining consumer items such as toys, games, household furnishings, apparel, and other collectibles that relate to aviation, especially for the interwar years, World War II, and the 1950s, and of more recent vintage, toys like action figures of pilots from the Vietnam War era to the present day, dolls or action figures that represent women in aviation, and electronic media like arcade games and flight simulation games for personal computers. The Space History Division is especially interested in acquiring scarce or rare items from early space science fiction, toys, games, lunch boxes, and other collectibles, electronic media like arcade games, computer games, and console games, and cultural objects from the early Project Mercury/Gemini/Apollo eras.

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

 

Are you Smarter than a Curator?

Judging from the high number of readers who take the quiz in our monthly e-newsletter, What’s Up, lots of people enjoy a good brain teaser now and then. Well, here’s a chance for our blog readers to put themselves to the test.

 

Smarter than a Curator

Smarter Than A Curator Sticker

Created by Roger Launius, senior curator for lunar and planetary spacecraft, this five-question quiz will test your knowledge about space exploration and related artifacts in the Museum’s collection. Best of all, it’s not only a fun way to find out how much you know, it’s also a great way to support the National Air and Space Museum. Every question you answer correctly earns ten cents for the Museum, helping support the incredible work that goes into creating a wealth of memorable experiences at both our locations. Plus, after you complete the quiz, you are eligible to receive a free “Are You Smarter than a Curator?” sticker.

 

Roger Launius

Roger Launius, senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum

So, think you have what it takes to answer questions created by one of the Smithsonian’s world-renowned curators? It’s time to find out — take the quiz today!

Tell your friends! The more people who participate, the more money will be donated to the National Air and Space Museum. Spread the word on Facebook and Twitter.

Want to do even more to support the National Air and Space Museum? Become a member in the National Air and Space Society, and/or place a name on the Wall of Honor.

The quiz is available from May 16 through June 17.

Kathleen Hanser is a writer-editor at the National Air and Space Museum.