Monthly Archive for December, 2011

Leaving the Moon, Watching at Home

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 30, 2011 in History and space.
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Apollo 17

The Apollo 17 ascent stage lifts off from the Moon, marking the last time humans left the Moon on December 14, 1972.

After pressing some buttons to start up the ascent engine of their lunar module Challenger, astronauts Gene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt left the Moon on December 14, 1972. That’s 39 years ago – before many of us were even born. While these men looked out the tiny triangular windows of the lunar module to see the lunar surface getting farther away, viewers around the world watched that same spacecraft leave the Moon, live and in color on their television sets. Departing the Moon for the last time was (not surprisingly, perhaps) far less interesting to most people than Apollo 11’s first landing over three years prior. Some evidence even suggests that NASA had to pay television networks to cover Apollo 17’s mission at all. Despite all their hard work and technological developments, the final liftoff of humans from the Moon came and went with just a brief notice on the nightly news.

That story, however, overlooks the difficulties engineers had in developing the ability to show the lunar module rocketing back into space. Television cameras of the late 1960s and early 1970s were notoriously bulky, usually requiring huge rolling bases or portable stands. For space use, any piece of equipment needed to be light-weight and easily portable. NASA awarded contracts to build television cameras for Apollo alternately to RCA and Westinghouse, and both companies managed to build units for different missions that met NASA standards for weight, materials, and functionality. For the final three Apollo missions, RCA provided small, portable, color television cameras that could show the astronauts stepping off the lunar module and onto the Moon, and then be moved to a stand or the lunar rover for mobile exploration.

The cameras were very successful, capturing images of numerous EVAs that included sample collection, a driver’s eye-view from the mobile rover, and the pitfalls of trying to just stay standing in a space suit in 1/6 gravity. For the lunar liftoff though, engineers had numerous calculations to make prior to the mission to allow for filming. Attached to a pan and tilt unit, the television camera could be controlled directly from Earth via a large high-gain antenna on the rover. Since signals to and from Earth are delayed by a few seconds due to the 240,000 mile distance, mission engineers suggested pre-programming the lunar module liftoffs for Apollo missions 15, 16, and 17. Based on mathematical calculations, the rover would be driven and left some distance from lunar module, and the camera would automatically tilt up to show the ascent when commanded by the operator on Earth.

That was the plan at least.

On Apollo 15, the tilt mechanism malfunctioned and the camera never moved upwards, allowing the lunar module to slip out of sight. And while the attempt on Apollo 16 gave a longer view of the lunar module rising up, the astronauts actually parked the rover too close to it, which threw off the calculations and timing of the tilt upwards so it left view just a few moments into the flight.

Thankfully, for NASA, those watching at home, and anyone reviewing film footage today, the third attempt was the charm. Cernan and Schmitt parked the rover at just the right distance, all of the mechanisms worked flawlessly, and viewers can still see today how that awkwardly-shaped ascent stage keeps going up until it becomes just a bright speck the sky on its way back to the command module.

How we saw and continue to see the Apollo program is due not only to the engineers at RCA for creating this unique ability, but also the NASA camera operator in Houston, Ed Fendell, for getting the timing just right, and NASA itself for recording and preserving these moments for our collective memory of our last departure from the Moon.

How big of a part do you think NASA’s television coverage of Apollo 17 plays in how we think about that time period? Do you think the same is true of the end of the Space Shuttle program in 2011?

 

Apollo 17

A view of the Apollo 17 landing site as seen from the lunar module ascent stage as it left the surface. On the left, you can see the descent stage, the small gold-colored circle, and numerous tracks leading away from it, marking the paths astronauts took on their extra-vehicular activities.

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.

The Santa Claus Express, Then and Now

Published by Allan Janus on December 24, 2011 in Archives, Hidden Treasures, History and Stories.
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Santa Claus

NASM 7A45388; Courtesy of the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company Records, the University of Akron, University Libraries, Archival Services.

 

In 1925, Mr. S. Claus was looking for a modern alternative to his old-fashioned reindeer-powered sleigh. Having once shown an interest in lighter-than-air flight in the form of hot-air balloons, Santa was favorably inclined when Goodyear came up with a solution — toy delivery via airship, in this case, Pilgrim I, renamed the Santa Claus Express for the occasion. In the photograph shown here, Pilgrim’s pilot Carl Wollam holds the gondola door for Santa (as portrayed by Goodyear employee Jack Yolton). Curiously, they seem to be unconcerned about the effect of drag from the presents festooning the gondola, but as Pilgrim’s top speed was only about 40 MPH, it probably didn’t make much of a difference. Here are some more photographs of Goodyear’s Santa Claus Express, 1925-1927, from the University of Akron’s library. By the way, the Pilgrim gondola is on display at the Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia — we might consider loaning it out to qualified Jolly Old Elves around this time of year…

 

santa

Photograph by Edward E. Ogden. Courtesy of the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company

The Santa Claus Express was re-instituted by Goodyear last year to support the Marine Corps Reserve’s Toys for Tots program. Santa, portrayed in the photo shown above by Spirit of Goodyear mechanic Ron Heaps, and Spirit pilot Gerald Hissem re-enact the original Santa Claus Express photograph.

The staff and volunteers of the National Air and Space Museum hope that all of our readers, visitors and friends have a fine holiday season; and that whatever method of aerial transport Santa chooses, that you’ll get a visit from him on Christmas Eve.

 

Allan Janus is a museum specialist in the National Air and Space Museum’s Archives Division

 

 

The Rutan Voyager

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 23, 2011 in Aviation, Behind The Scenes, Highlights from the Collection, On View at the Museum and Stories.
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Twenty-five years ago, the staff of the National Air and Space Museum held its collective breath for nine days as a seemingly fragile, flying fuel tank made its way across oceans and continents in an attempt to become the first aircraft to fly around the world non-stop and unrefueled. The odd-looking bird had departed Edwards Air Force Base, California, on the morning of December 14, 1986, and the rest of the world was following as continuous sightings and updates flowed to the media, the Museum, and to the flight’s headquarters in Mojave, California. Everyone wondered if you really could fly around the world on one tank of gas?

 

Voyager

"Voyager" departing the coast of California on Dec. 14, 1986, soon to leave behind Burt Rutan in the Duchess chase plane.

As it turned out, you needed 17 tanks of fuel all in one vehicle from start to finish.  Voyager, the ultimate homebuilt, was the brainchild of unconventional designer Burt Rutan and two record-setting pilots, his brother Dick Rutan and Jeana Yeager.  Six years from initial conception on a napkin, as the story goes, to completion of the flight two days before Christmas in 1986, this trio successfully proved that lots of hard work and a little bit of luck could still make dreams come true.  Of course they didn’t do it alone.  A dedicated team of volunteers supported every aspect of the endeavor, but it was Dick Rutan and Yeager who beat the bushes for donations from the general public and corporate sponsors (they never did get a big-time sponsor) and built and tested the aircraft themselves. In the end, their dramatic quest created a public following that rivaled the flight-tracking of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

All of a sudden Museum curators were being asked who else had flown around the world, how and when were the flights accomplished, and was this really the last aviation milestone?  We knew the answers to the first two questions: in 1924, Army Air Corps crews flew two Douglas World Cruisers biplanes on the first round the world flight, a six-month marathon around oceans and through the arctic snow and tropical jungles — one of the airplanes, the Chicago, is in the Museum’s Barron Hilton Pioneers of Flight Gallery.  Then in 1957, three USAF B-52B bomber crews made the first non-stop flights around the world aided by aerial refueling.  No one seriously considered it possible to accomplish the flight without some sort of refueling, until Burt Rutan did.

The sheer audacity of assuming it could be done had to wait for dramatic changes in aircraft construction material and an out-of-the-box thinker. Weight, the ever-present penalty for aircraft, was the ultimate problem to be conquered.  How could you squeeze in enough fuel to fly nearly 25,000 miles and yet keep the aircraft light enough to even take off? Carbon fiber was the answer, making the aircraft half the weight of conventional aluminum construction, but as strong as steel.  Burt Rutan’s design certainly turned heads with its forward canard and graceful wings connecting two out-rigger booms, all of which contained 7011.5 pounds of fuel.  Every effort was made to keep the aircraft light, and thankfully Yeager weighed only 95 pounds. The two pilots were crammed into a phone booth-sized barebones cockpit and they would be there for nine days.  That alone earns gasps when people first see the aircraft but add the fact that, unbeknownst to the public, the pilots had not been getting along very well and you have a truly incredible feat.

 

Dick and Jeanna

Dick Rutan and Jeana Yeager in Voyager’s cramped cockpit

The Rutans and Yeager made it clear they expected success and they wanted to see the aircraft hanging at the Smithsonian.  The Museum adopted a wait and see attitude; given the long delays in the program and the dangers and pitfalls of the proposed flight, would this ever really happen?

Ultimately, determination and perseverance prevailed as Voyager and its crew endured the loss of its winglets on and just after  takeoff, a typhoon, thunderstorms that flipped the craft to a 90-degree bank, fuel starvation in one engine, and severe physiological and psychological stress.

The Museum followed the nine-day trip in the Air Transportation gallery but there were still questions — was it really one of the last great records of aviation?  By the time Rutan and Yeager landed back at Edwards AFB at 8:05am PST on December 23, 1986, it was clear that history had been made.  Not only were they the first to fly non-stop non-refueled around the world, they also set eight absolute or world class records.  Winning aviation’s prestigious Collier Trophy settled the discussion. While the press lavished praise couched in holiday cheer, the Museum began planning for a new addition to its collection.

In the summer of 1987, Voyager was dismantled for its trip by trailer from California to the Paul E. Garber Preservation, Restoration and Storage Facility in Suitland, Maryland.  While Voyager received accolades at the Experimental Aircraft Association Convention in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, structural engineer and curator Howard Wolko calculated how to get this huge aircraft into the building.  After a midnight wide-load ride from the Garber Facility to the west terrace of the Museum in Washington, DC, our team of specialists moved the center section onto dollies.

Then the carefully laid plans came to a halt. Just inside the west doors a replica aircraft carrier deck which held our Grumman Hellcat protruded a little too far, and it was clear that Voyager would not pass.  In the wee hours of the morning, a solution was found: elevate and tilt the center section with a hydraulic lift, inching it over and past the offending carrier deck.  After barely sliding by the Air Transportation gallery, the center section was rolled into the South Lobby at dawn.  Thankfully the assembly of the wings, empennage, and engines was routine and our able but tired staff suspended Voyager using scissor lifts and winches in time for our 10:00 a.m. opening.  The near catastrophic loss of the winglets on takeoff proved fortunate for us by reducing the wingspan by two feet and allowing the aircraft to fit snugly into the South Lobby. On the first anniversary of the flight, Burt and Dick Rutan and Jeana Yeager reached their final goal of seeing Voyager suspended in the south lobby of the National Air and Space Museum.

Dorothy Cochrane is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum

The Meaning Behind Folding an American Flag

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 21, 2011 in Behind The Scenes, On View at the Museum and space.
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The American flag is one of the most important symbols of the United States.  For many, it symbolizes respect, honor, and freedom.  For others, the flag represents reflection, courage and sorrow.  The National Air and Space Museum cares for a number of American flags in the Smithsonian Institution’s national collection, many of which represent significant events in the history of space exploration or aeronautics. One belonged to Amelia Earhart.  One was flown aboard Gemini 4 by NASA astronauts James McDivitt and Edward H. White in 1965.  And the Museum has several replicas of the flag that was left on the Moon during the Apollo 11 lunar landing in 1969.  Although each flag has a story that is worth telling, the care and preservation of these unique objects is also noteworthy.

Even though Museum staff are trained to handle cultural objects, sometimes an object requires special attention. With the upcoming installation of new displays in the Moving Beyond Earth gallery highlighting the history of the space shuttle program, a very special flag was chosen for display.  This particular flag was flown over the U.S. Capitol on February 1, 2003 as a tribute to the crew of STS-107, who died when the space shuttle Columbia was lost during re-entry at the end of its mission.  It was donated to the Museum by Dennis Hastert, then Speaker of the House of Representatives, to honor the astronauts.

 

flag

This flag was presented to the National Air and Space Museum by Dennis Hastert, then Speaker of the House of Representatives (Photograph by Gregory K.H. Bryant)

flag

Flag prior to folding on table in conservation laboratory (Photograph by Marcy Borger)

When it was decided to display the flag in the new gallery, the conservation staff unfolded the flag from its original box so that it could be examined, photographed, and cleaned. The curatorial team agreed that the flag should be folded in the traditional, triangular pattern before putting it on display. Because the flag represents an American tragedy of significant proportion and out of respect for the proper treatment of the artifact, the Museum invited a member of the military to assist with folding the flag.  Army Major Warren R. Stump, who recently returned from Afghanistan, assisted the conservation staff.

 

stump

Flag being folded by Major Warren R. Stump. Moving Beyond Earth contractor Stephanie Spence is assisting (Photograph by Marcy Borger)

Major Stump, with assistance from Stephanie Spence and Dawn Planas (conservation contractors for the Moving Beyond Earth gallery) folded the flag, while I (Lisa Young) read an explanation of the meaning behind each of the thirteen folds in a properly-folded American flag.  The flag is folded to represent the original thirteen colonies of the United States.  Each fold also carries its own meaning.  According to the description, some folds symbolize freedom, life, or pay tribute to mothers, fathers, and those who serve in the Armed Forces.  When the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, representing the soldiers who served under George Washington, the sailors and marines who served under John Paul Jones, and the many who have followed in their footsteps.

 

stump

Major Stump folding the flag (Photograph by Marcy Borger)

Now folded into the traditional triangle shape, the STS-107 Capitol-flown flag will be displayed in the Moving Beyond Earth gallery. The flag will serve as a reminder of the heroes who flew aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia, and who paved the way for further space exploration.  It will also serve as a reminder to Museum staff about how special objects take on new meaning as they are interpreted for public display.  We are grateful to Major Stump for helping the Museum to pay full respect to this significant artifact.

 

group

Presenting the flag to the Moving Beyond Earth Curator, Margaret Weitekamp and conservation team members John Holman, Lisa Young, Dawn Planas and Stephanie Spence. (Photograph by Marcy Borger)

Lisa A. Young is a conservator in the Collections Division and Margaret Weitekamp is a curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

WINGS: From the Wright Brothers to the Present

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 17, 2011 in Aviation and History.
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Airplane designers will tell you that the wing is the heart of an airplane. For conventional airplanes, it provides most of the lift generated by the airplane; the fuselage and tail contribute only a few percent of the overall lift of the airplane.

 

1900 Wright Glider

A reproduction of the 1900 Wright glider on display in The Wright Brothers & The Invention of the Aerial Age gallery at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC.

The Wright brothers recognized this from the very start of their work on flying machines.  The wings of their first gliders in 1900 and 1901 were designed on the basis of the aeronautical data reported by the German aeronautical pioneer, Otto Lilienthal. When, however, they measured the aerodynamic lift on their gliders, they found that the measured lift was only one-third of their calculated lift based on Lilienthal’s data. (We know today that the problem was not with Lilienthal’s data, but rather with the Wright’s misinterpretation of his data, based on lack of information about the wing  geometry of Lilienthal’s test model.) Nevertheless, the Wright’s proceeded to carry out their own tests, using a rudimentary wind tunnel of their own design. They learned from their wind tunnel tests the important effect of wing aspect ratio on the lift and drag. (For their rectangular wings, the aspect ratio is equal to the wing span divided by the chord. A large aspect ratio wing is like a slat from a Venetian blind; a low aspect ratio wing is short and stubby.) Their 1900 and 1901 gliders had low aspect ratio wings, aspect ratios of 3.4 and 3.3 respectively. (Lilienthal’s model aspect ratio was 6.48, and is the main reason why the measured  lift of the 1900 and 1901 gliders did not agree with the Wrights’ calculations based on the Lilienthal’s data.)From their wind tunnel data, the Wrights found that a high aspect wing produced more lift and less drag than a low aspect ratio wing. The aspect ratio for their next glider in 1902 was 6.7, and this glider flew beautifully.  The Wright Flyer had an aspect ratio of 6.4. We note that many conventional airplanes today have very similar aspect ratios.

 

Otto Lilienthal

Otto Lilienthal in flight (1894 - 1896)

The wings of the Wright’s flying machines had another important feature. The wing tips could be warped in opposite directions, setting up an unbalanced lift force on the two wings, and hence providing a control mechanism to roll the airplane. The Wrights pioneered the concept of lateral (roll) control – one of their most important technical contributions to the airplane. After a few years, ailerons were employed for roll control in lieu of wing warping, but the Wrights’ contribution was seminal.

The cross-section of a wing taken in the flight direction is called an airfoil. The shape of an airfoil is an important design feature of a wing. For example, it affects the lift and drag of the wing, and has a major effect on the stalling angle of attack (the angle of attack of the wing beyond which the lift dramatically drops off and the drag suddenly increases).The airfoils used by the Wrights were very thin because their wind tunnel test indicated that very thin shapes resulted in lower drag than thick airfoils. Most airplanes through World War I followed suit and used thin airfoils. The early wind tunnel results were misleading, however, because the wind tunnel models were small and the airflow speeds of the air in the wind tunnels were low.  We know today that the much larger size and airspeeds associated with full scale flight resulted in the opposite effect. Thin airfoils experienced “thin airfoil stall” at angles of attack much lower than normal stalling angles of attack. This was due to the separation of the flow over the top surface of the thin airfoil, hence creating much higher drag and a loss of lift. In contrast, under the same operating conditions, thicker airfoils did not encounter flow separation until much higher angles of attack, hence producing more lift and less drag at higher angles of attack. This was discovered by German engineers, and thick airfoils were employed on the Fokker Triplane and the Fokker D-7 toward the end of World War I. These airplanes were able to climb faster and maneuver more sharply than airplanes using thin airfoils, and resulted in the Fokker D-7 being one of the most effective fighters of the War.

airfoil

Airfoil is the name for the special shape of airplane wings. A wing’s airfoil shape—like a teardrop on its side—is always designed to create lift. An airplane wing is designed so air flows faster over the wing than it does beneath the wing.

In the 1920s airplane designers moved towards the use of thick airfoils. By the 1930s, efficient wing designs exhibited large aspect ratios and thick airfoils. The famous Douglas DC-3 is an excellent example, with its aesthetically beautiful high wing  aspect ratio of 9.14 and streamlined 15 percent thick airfoil. Thick airfoils had structural as well as aerodynamic advantages. A thicker wing allowed storage space for fuel tanks and retractable landing gear. A thicker wing also allowed a larger and stronger structural spar along the inside of the wing, which in turn allowed the wing to be cantilevered from the fuselage without any external support wires and struts. This helped to encourage the use of the modern single wing (monoplane) instead of the older two-wing (biplane) configuration.

With the advent of jet airplanes in the 1950s pushing speeds close to and beyond the speed of sound, airfoil and wing shapes made another dramatic change. Thinner airfoils allowed subsonic airplanes to fly closer to the speed of sound before encountering adverse shock waves over the wing, shock waves which greatly increased the drag and reduced the lift. For supersonic airplanes, the driving design feature was to reduce the strength of shock waves on the wings, and hence to reduce the supersonic wave drag.  The thinner the airfoils, the weaker the shocks, and the lower the wave drag. The Lockheed F-104, the first airplane to be designed for sustained speeds at Mach 2, is a perfect example. The airfoil shape on the F-104 is very thin, about 3.5 percent thick, and the leading edge is razor thin, all to reduce the strength of the shock waves from the leading edge of the wing. At the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, you can get within a few feet of the F-104 wing, and see the dramatically thin airfoil. It is almost like making a full circle in airfoil thickness,  returning to that of the Wright brothers, but for completely different flight conditions. Also, many  high speed subsonic and supersonic airplanes have swept wings rather than straight wings, also to reduce the strength of shock waves and to obtain a lower wave drag.

See if you can find the best lift-to-drag ratio for the F-104 airfoil, and learn more about how wings work, in this fun online activity.

F-104

Lockheed F-104A Starfighter on display at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) flew this F-104A for 19 years as a flying test bed and a chase plane.

Wing and airfoil shapes are still evolving today, driven by new and challenging flight conditions. The drive for more and more fuel economy in flight is driving new and better wing configurations and airfoil shapes to obtain higher lift-to-drag ratios. Also, future hypersonic flight vehicles flying at Mach 5 and higher will require innovative new wing and airfoil shapes. So the evolution marches on.

John Anderson is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

 

A Christmastime Price War—Over a Toy Ray Gun

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 15, 2011 in Exhibitions, On View at the Museum and space.
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Along the McDonnell Space Hangar’s south wall in the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, a case of colorful toys beckons to visitors. Older patrons pause in nostalgia to identify the toys of their youth. Children plop on the floor by the Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back action figures, studying early-1980s versions of characters they know through the Clone Wars animated series and video games. But ray guns dominate the display.  Hung in a circle facing inward toward the curator’s fabulously-illuminating main label about the parallels between many space stories and American Westerns (make sure you read it the next time you’re there!), the ray guns show an array of different shapes, colors, finishes, and materials.

 

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. From top left, clockwise, Laser Gun Toy, Taiwan, c. 1970s–1980s; “Space Super Jet” Toy Gun, Japan, c. 1960s–1970s; XZ-44 Liquid Helium Toy Water Pistol, USA, 1936; and Flash Gordon Arresting Ray Pistol Toy, USA, 1952.

But most people fail to notice that the progenitor for all ray gun toys is sitting on the top shelf on the left: quiet, matte, black—and incredibly important.  Given to the Museum by Michael O’Harro in the 1990s, this innocuous wood, metal, and plastic form was the model for the very first metal Buck Rogers gun: the XZ-31 Rocket Pistol, produced in 1934 by the Daisy Manufacturing Company of Plymouth, Michigan. That toy, which was wildly successful, even sparked a Christmastime price war between two of the biggest department stores in the country at the time.

 

Buck Rogers Ray Guns

The progenitor of all ray gun toys that followed, the Buck Rogers XZ-31 Rocket Pistol by Daisy Manufacturing caused a Christmastime sensation in 1934. From top left, clockwise, the prototype for the XZ-31, the XZ-31 itself, and the XZ-35 "Wilma Deering" Rocket Pistol of 1935.

Buck Rogers first appeared in the pulp magazine Amazing Stories in August 1928 as the character Anthony Rogers in Philip Francis Nowlan’s story “Armageddon 2419 A.D.”  Knocked unconscious, the blond hero awakened in the 25th century to find America under attack from “Mongol” hordes, a reflection of the “yellow peril,” contemporary anxiety about Asians in the United States.  National Newspaper Service president John F. Dille saw a potential comic strip—with one small change.  Renamed “Buck” to tap into Westerns’ popularity, “Buck Rogers” (illustrated by Dick Calkins) debuted in 1929, followed by a color Sunday strip in 1930 and a radio program in 1932.  (Created to compete with—and cash in on—that success, Flash Gordon began fighting another Asian enemy, Ming the Merciless, in comic strips in 1934.)

Paper or cardboard Buck Rogers guns quickly become available as mail-away premiums, play kits, or give-aways. But as the comic strip and radio program gained popularity, Daisy Manufacturing Company wanted to make a three-dimensional toy: a metal ray gun. But the guns drawn in the comics were too intricate to produce.  Instead, Daisy executives asked Buck Rogers illustrator Dick Calkins to redesign the guns shown in the comic to make them easier to replicate as three-dimensional toys. The matte black model shows a prototype, a variation upon which was eventually produced.

The resulting XZ-31 Rocket Pistol launched with a dedicated display at Detroit’s J.L. Hudson department store, the props from which were then reused at the American Toy Fair to sell the toy to other shops.  Macy’s flagship department store in New York City bought in, negotiating a one-week exclusive marketing agreement. On the first day the XZ-31 sold in New York City, 2,000 eager buyers lined up! By Christmas, a holster and helmet were also available for consumers who wanted to act out Buck’s adventures.

 

holster

The XZ-35 leather holster could hold the smaller version of the Buck Rogers rocket pistol, known as the "Wilma Deering" pistol, made by the Daisy Manufacturing Company of Plymouth, Michigan in 1935.

But once Macy’s exclusive agreement ended, the wild popularity of the metal 50¢ toy gun sparked a Christmastime price war between Macy’s and Gimbel’s department stores. At one point, the price at Gimbel’s reportedly reached as low as two-for-19¢, below the manufacturing cost!

A year later, in 1935, inspired by the XZ-31’s success, Daisy created a smaller version named for the series’ female lead character, Wilma Deering.  The XZ-35 Buck Rogers Rocket Pistol Toy was identical in every way to the original metal Buck Rogers gun—except for its reduced size.

The National Air and Space Museum holds toys and games in the collection because they reflect how people have imagined spaceflight—and how children have been introduced to spaceflight through play, both realistic and fantastical. No matter how you celebrate this holiday season, consider making a visit to the Udvar-Hazy Center to see these fanciful reminders of how children of all ages have imagined their own futures in space.

Margaret A. Weitekamp is a curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

 

That’s One Small Step. . .

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 12, 2011 in Behind The Scenes, Hidden Treasures, Highlights from the Collection, restoration and space.
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These suits have come a long way. True, it’s only 37 miles from Suitland, Maryland to Chantilly, VA. On a good day, that’s less than an hour’s drive on the beltway. But today, like 42 years ago, these suits are worlds away from where they came.

 

Neil Armstrong's Spacesuit

Neil Armstrong’s spacesuit, flown on Apollo 11, is inspected and prepared for shipment at the Paul E. Garber Preservation, Restoration, and Storage Facility. From left to right, Amelia Kile, Samantha Snell, Lisa Young, and Stephanie Harris. Photo by Eric Long

On December 6th, the spacesuit that Neil Armstrong wore as he took his first steps on the Moon made the giant leap from outdated storage facilities to new, state-of-the-art collections storage at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. About 200 suits are being relocated from the Paul E. Garber Preservation, Restoration and Storage Facility in Suitland, Maryland this winter. These include Michael Collins’ Apollo 11 suit and many more used to develop spacesuit technology and train astronauts.

 

Garber

Spacesuits are loaded onto the “Big Blue” tractor-trailer in Suitland, MD. From left to right, Stephanie Harris, Scott Wood, Pat Robinson, and Christine Cannon. Photo by Eric Long.

Museum staff sometimes calls the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center “the promised land.”  In some ways, the place is a museum worker’s (and culture buff’s) dream come true. The reason for this name? Conditions are ideal for the long-term preservation of these national treasures. Temperature, relative humidity, exposure to light, the elements, and pollutants can all seriously affect the life-expectancy of these beloved artifacts, but each can be tightly controlled at the new facility. Simply having a permanent, secure building with modern infrastructure and adequate physical space for each spacesuit ensures that the National Air and Space Museum’s comprehensive collection of spacesuits will survive for years to come.

 

Hazy

Spacesuits are delivered to the new storage facility. From left to right, Cathy Lewis, Amelia Kile, Stephanie Harris, Christine Cannon, Katherine Watson, Samantha Snell, Scott Wood, and Pat Robinson. Photo by Dane Penland.

In the relatively short time I have worked with the Museum, much progress has been made in preparing this collection to move to its new home, as curator Cathy Lewis explained in a previous post. Many collections staff, volunteers, interns, contractors, and more than one curator and conservator have worked with purpose and diligence in the last decade toward this day and this goal. It opens a new chapter for the Museum, begun earlier this year with the framed art collection. Now this collection will be more accessible to researchers and staff, and in turn, the public. I am honored to participate in this moment.

This is one of many “small” artifact collections being relocated to the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in the next several years, so check back for updates on our progress.

Amelia Brakeman Kile is lead move contractor in the Collections Division of the National Air and Space Museum

December 7, 1941 and the First Around-the-World Commercial Flight

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 8, 2011 in Aviation and History.
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clipper

Pan Am Boeing 314

Stranded. Six days from its home port of San Francisco, a luxurious Boeing 314 flying boat, the Pacific Clipper, was preparing to alight in Auckland, New Zealand, as part of the airline’s transpacific service when the crew of ten learned of the Japanese attack on the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor on the morning of December 7, 1941. All across the Pacific, Pan Am facilities came under assault: Wake Island, where the Martin M-130 Philippine Clipper returned just in time to pick up the Pan Am staff and escape although riddled with bullet holes; Manila, which had come under direct air attack; Hong Kong, where a Sikorsky S-42B was destroyed at its dock; and, of course, Pearl Harbor. Where to go?

 

Sikorsky

The revolutionary new 32-seat Sikorsky S-42 flying boat entered service in 1934.

Pan Am Captain Robert Ford was faced with a dilemma. After a week in the U.S. Embassy Ford finally received word from Pan Am headquarters that they were to return to the U.S. by flying westward. They were on their own for gasoline and supplies and had to fly over land and water with which none of the crew was familiar. With orders in hand, Captain Ford took off on December 16th, unsure of his fate, backtracked to Noumea, New Caledonia, to pick up the Pan Am staff left there and headed west for Australia. Hours later, they put down in Gladstone, north of Brisbane on the Coral Sea. The next day, Captain Ford and the Pacific Clipper headed northwest to Darwin, flying over the Queensland desert and watching it gradually transform into tropical rainforest near their destination of Darwin. The next goal was Surabaya, in the Dutch East Indies (present day Indonesia). Keeping their fingers crossed that the Japanese expansion had not reached this far, the crew of the massive flying boat flew 2,253 kilometers (1,400 miles) over open ocean and reached the city but not before they were intercepted by suspicious British fighter aircraft and escorted in to safety after taxiing through mined waters.

After refueling with automobile grade gasoline, since no 100 octane fuel was available, the Pacific Clipper carefully took off and headed for Trincomalee, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) without any charts, only the coordinates of their destination. With remarkable precision, navigator Roderick Brown found the island and the port city where they alighted safely, although only after avoiding a patrolling Japanese submarine. Refueling once again, the Boeing 314 left Trincomalee on Christmas Eve only to turn back after losing an engine. Repairs took all day on Christmas before they retook to the air on Boxing Day bound for Karachi, India (now Pakistan). After an uneventful flight, Captain Ford continued safely on to Bahrain and then across the vast desert expanse of the Arabian peninsula to Khartoum, Sudan, where they alighted on the Nile. Not wishing to risk any further desert flying, the crew of the Pacific Clipper pressed on to Leopoldville in the Belgian Congo (now Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of the Congo) and was able to put the huge flying boat down on the Congo River when they reached their destination.

 

Pacific Clipper

"Pacific Clipper" in flight (1944). During the war the "Pacific Clipper" flew for the U.S. Navy with a Pan Am crew.

Fighting the oppressive heat and the strong current of the river, the flying boat once again clawed into the sky becoming airborne before reaching a set of waterfalls. Safely clear of the obstacles, the Pacific Clipper droned 5,766 kilometers (3,583 miles) westward to Natal, Brazil, then up the coast to Port of Spain, Trinidad, and finally on January 6, 1942, to the Marine terminal at La Guardia, Long Island, New York. Total flight time was 209 hours which covered 50,694 kilometers (31,500 miles). It was the first around the world flight by a commercial airliner — the hard way.

After this historic flight, the Pacific Clipper was assigned to the U.S. Navy for the rest of World War II. When the War ended, the aircraft was sold to Universal Airlines who salvaged it after it was damaged in a storm.

Have you ever had a harrowing flight experience? Tell us about it.

Robert van der Linden is Chair of the Aeronautics Division at the National Air and Space Museum.

The Museum’s Pearl Harbor Survivor

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 7, 2011 in Aviation, History and Stories.
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In American military history there are few dates more familiar than “December 7th, 1941… a date which will live in infamy…”

The Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor on that serene Sunday morning marked America’s official entry into a global war that had been raging in Europe and throughout Asia for many years. Yet after the raid had ended, the wounded treated, and the dead counted, there remained pockets of hope that all was not lost that day.

 

Ford Island Runway

A variety of aircraft were stationed at Ford Island in 1941.

On Ford Island, just across from battleship row, ten Sikorsky JRS-1 Flying Boats (Amphibians) had escaped any serious damage from the multi-wave attack. Early the following morning, around 3:00 am Pearl Harbor time on December 8, Navy JRS-1 crews took to the air in search of the Japanese fleet. The Sikorsky JRS-1, a utility and transport aircraft, was not armed…normally. But that morning, the crew along with several rifle-armed passengers were assigned to not only conduct search and rescue missions, but also search and destroy any Japanese ships that they encountered.

 

JRS-1

The JRS-1 "flew" briefly as it was removed from the transport truck and touched down in the hangar last spring. Our JRS-1 is the only Pearl Harbor-related aircraft in our collection, and the only JRS-1 remaining in the world.

Last June, one of those veteran JRS-1 crewmen visited us at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar and was reunited with the very plane that he had flown as a radioman in those days following the attack. Lt. Cmdr. Harvey Waldron, USN (ret.), recounted the events during a three-hour oral history interview accomplished in the shadow of his old Sikorsky friend.

As he viewed the fuselage of the craft for the first time in nearly six decades, he could not contain the tears, the smiles, and then the joy of being reunited with an object that had been his defender and his home away from home all those many years ago.

 

Lt. Cmdr. Harvey Waldron, USN (ret.)

Lt. Cmdr. Harvey Waldron, USN (ret.) got a chance to view his old radio station inside the JRS-1 at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar.

Waldron and other Pearl Harbor veterans will return to Hawaii this week to participate in what may be the final reunion of Pearl survivors. Each will visit their exact duty location on that Sunday. Waldron was at Hangar 37 during a shift change when the Japanese first wave struck.

On this day, we remember those who perished that Sunday morning, now 70 years ago. We also remember the 16 million more who served and fought during the next four years with bravery, courage, and heroism to help put an end to tyranny around the globe. Veterans like Lt. Cmdr. Harvey Waldron are rare indeed.

To all those veterans of World War II and their families, thank you for your dedicated service!

Do you have any Pearl Harbor stories? Feel free to share them with us.

Dik Daso is the curator of modern military aircraft in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

 

Above Water

Published by The National Air and Space Museum on December 2, 2011 in Aviation, Behind The Scenes, Exhibitions, Publications and Stories.
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When the floods in Thailand appeared in the news recently, my friends and colleagues recommended that I stay away.  But how could I?  It was only a 4.5 hour flight from China (where I would be attending the Lishui International Photography Festival November 5 – 9) and photographing the Bangkok (BKK) air traffic control tower at the Suvarnabhumi International Airport was a high priority on my “to do” list.  Actually, the highest.  It is the tallest freestanding air traffic control tower in the world at 132.2 meters (434 feet) and a major tower to include in my upcoming book and Smithsonian exhibition The Art of the Airport Tower.

 

BKK

BKK Air Traffic Control Tower at Suvarnabhumi International Airport, Bangkok, Thailand Nov. 2011.

Getting to the various locations to photograph airport towers is only part of the job. First I must obtain official access to photograph each tower.  For towers in the United States, I have a process in place with the FAA for approval.  International access is another story. However, so far, so good with towers now completed in Finland, Sweden, Norway, Spain, Switzerland, and Italy.

But after several weeks of unanswered e-mails  to different airport authorities at the Suvarnabhumi International Airport, I became worried and turned to a personal contact in Bangkok, my childhood pen pal.  As pen pals, Choedkrid  “Jon” and I had exchanged letters throughout high school, and we met once during his visit to the United States in 1989.  We had reconnected earlier this year on Facebook and I found that he works for Thai Airways, quite coincidentally.

So, “Jon” made the calls for me and forwarded my requests to the proper authorities, which resulted in an official letter of permission – my golden ticket.  The BKK tower is a gigantic beauty, the weather was great for shooting, and I had a perfect photography session.

Photographing airport towers all over the world is an ambitious undertaking. Working in partnership with the Museum’s Development Office, we have created sponsorship opportunities that would open up the possibility of traveling to and highlighting as many of these historic landmarks as possible.

 

 

BKK

BKK Air Traffic Control Tower reflections on AeroThai building at Suvarnabhumi International Airport. Bangkok, Thailand Nov. 2011.

And about those floods —  Jon provided me with a close-up view from a military-style truck that drove through the flooded streets.  My feet stayed dry as I photographed the flood damage below.  I watched people navigate their way in trucks and boats on the newly formed waterways. Some on foot were partly submerged.  The citizens of Bangkok helped each other and readily adapted to new transportation and relocation adjustments in order to continue with their daily business routines.  I brought back from this recent trip not only new photographs for the Art of the Airport Tower, but a reconnection to an old friend and the utmost respect for a culture that stood tall in the face of a national crisis.

 

Floods

Downtown flood water in Bangkok, Thailand Nov. 2011

 

Bangkok

Downtown flood water in Bangkok, Thailand Nov. 2011 Credit: Carolyn Russo

Carolyn Russo is a museum specialist/photographer in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum.