Monthly Archives: October 2012

Life and Liquor at “Leftover” Field

Posted on by
Reply

The Boeing B-29 Superfortress Enola Gay is one of the National Air and Space Museum’s most heralded artifacts, but a new addition to the National Air and Space Museum Archives Division’s collections provides a glimpse into the lives of the crew before they became worldwide names.  In May, the Archives accepted an accession of three State of Utah individual liquor permits for 1944 to 1945 (Acc. No. 2012-0027).  Two of these permits were issued to future members of the crew of the Enola Gay—Colonel Paul Tibbets, commanding officer of the 509th Composite Group, and Major Thomas Ferebee, the bombardier on the flight to Hiroshima.

Ferebee's Ration Card

Front view of Major Thomas Ferebee’s Utah liquor ration card. NASM 9A08342

 

Before shipping out to Tinian, the island in the Marianas from which the Enola Gay launched its flight to Japan, Tibbets and the 509th Composite Group were stationed at Wendover Army Air Field on the western edge of Utah.  The population of the town of Wendover was just over 100 people.  Surrounded by miles of salt flats, there so little to do in Wendover, Bob Hope reportedly called it “Leftover” Field.  This isolation was ideal for Tibbets, since he was especially concerned with operational security for his top secret B-29 program.  Tibbets hoped to keep his men out of the bars, where they could potentially talk about their lives and jobs.

Ferebee's Ration Card

Reverse view of Major Thomas Ferebee’s Utah liquor ration card. NASM 9A08342-A

 

Just because they were isolated in Utah, famous for its strict liquor laws even before wartime rationing, didn’t mean that alcohol was unavailable to the men of the 509th.  During their stay at Wendover, Tibbets and Ferebee were issued new 1944 to 1945 individual liquor permits.  According to the Salt Lake Telegram, the new 1944 to 1945 liquor permits were supposed to be a new “foolproof” design to curb rampant counterfeiting.  Before, purchasing liquor in Utah required a liquor permit and a ration card, which were both easily forged.  The new design was enclosed in cellophane and included a year’s supply of liquor.  In order to receive a permit, an applicant needed to produce a ration book and at least three other forms of identification, including a service identification card if a member of the military.

Tibbets’ Utah Liquor Ration Card

Reverse view of Colonel Paul Tibbets’ Utah liquor ration card. NASM 9A08343-A

 

From rations notices posted in the Telegram, we can roughly determine how much liquor was purchased by the two crew members between July 1944 and July 1945.  The first set of numbers 1 through 12 could be used to purchase one-fifth or a pint, if the store was out of fifths, of liquor per month.  The set of numbers 13 through 18 represented bonus rations, allotted throughout the year.  The letters along the bottom represented two fifths or one-half gallon of wine in monthly installments, plus bonus rations.  Though he was constantly shuttling between Utah; Los Alamos, New Mexico; Washington, DC; and, later, Tinian from July 1944 through July 1945, Tibbets usually used his rations, often taking advantage of the bonus rations.  Ferebee was not transferred to Wendover until September 1944 and may not have obtained his card immediately, since he did not begin using the card to buy liquor until February 1945.  While these liquor permits don’t provide new, groundbreaking insight into the crew of the Enola Gay, they do provide a quick look at a small aspect of their life in Utah.

Elizabeth C. Borja is a reference services archivist in the National Air and Space Museum’s Archives Division.

This post was originally published on the Smithsonian Collections Blog in October 2012.

“A Company of Scholars”: A Brief History of the National Air and Space Museum’s Fellowship Program

Posted on by
2

The Museum is accepting applications for fellowships from November 1, 2012 – January 15, 2013.

Most people know the National Air and Space Museum as the premier location in the United States, and perhaps in the world, for the display of the artifacts of aerospace history. Not so well publicized is the fact that the Museum is also home to what former Smithsonian Secretary Dillon S. Ripley called “a company of scholars … a small university that awards no degrees.” Ripley’s comments refer to his strong belief that the Smithsonian should be a place where scholars from around the world conduct research and exchange ideas with each other and with Smithsonian researchers. The Smithsonian has indeed become such a place and so has the National Air and Space Museum, most particularly in regard to its funding of and support for outside researchers who come here under the auspices of the Museum’s fellowship program.

Guggenheim Pre- and Post-doctoral Fellowships

In the mid-1960s, the Daniel and Florence Guggenheim Foundation pledged $250,000 (roughly equivalent to $1.7 million in today’s currency) to support three projects: an exhibition about the Guggenheim family’s longstanding support of aeronautical research and education; a public lecture series that featured prominent figures in aerospace history; and a fellowship that would allow graduate students to do historical research at the Museum.

red phoenix rising

Red Phoenix Rising: The Soviet Air Force in World War II, by Von Hardesty and Ilya Grinberg, University Press of Kansas.

Over the years, the Guggenheim Fellowship has sponsored such distinguished aerospace historians as Richard P. Hallion, among others. Hallion’s book, Legacy of Flight: The Guggenheim Contribution to American Aviation (Seattle: U of Washington P, 1977), was the product of an appointed Guggenheim grant at the Museum. Another early former Guggenheim Fellow, Joseph Corn, wrote his groundbreaking The Winged Gospel: America’s Romance with Aviation (New York: Oxford UP, 1983), the first true cultural history of aviation, at the Museum. Von Hardesty, a Guggenheim Fellow here (1978-79) began work on his pioneering work Red Phoenix: The Rise of Soviet Air Power, 1941-1945 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1982). This work was later revised as Red Phoenix Rising: The Soviet Air Force in World War II, Modern War Studies (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2012). Hardesty later became a curator in the Aeronautics Department, with responsibility for Russian and Soviet aircraft.

In later years the Guggenheim fellowship was awarded competitively, and is now available to pre-doctoral graduate students and to Ph.D.s who are within seven years of having been awarded their degree. Jenifer Leigh Van Vleck, a recent Guggenheim Predoctoral Fellow (2006-2007) from Yale University, wrote her doctoral dissertation, “No Distant Places: Aviation and the Global American Century,” which is soon to be published by Harvard University Press. Van Vleck is an Assistant Professor, Department of History, Yale University. Phil Tiemeyer, a recent Guggenheim Postdoctoral Fellow (2009-10) from Philadelphia University worked on the manuscript for his Plane Queer: Labor, Sexuality and AIDS in the History of Male Flight Attendants, which will be published by University of California Press in February 2013.

 

Charles A. Lindbergh Chair in Aerospace History

Airlines of the Jet Age

Airlines of the Jet Age, A History, by R.E.G. Davies, Smithsonian Institution Press with Rowman & Littlefield, 2011.

Our most distinguished fellowship is the Charles A. Lindbergh Chair in Aerospace History. Originally, this award was an appointment made by the Museum’s Director, but is now competitive and open to senior scholars with a distinguished record of publication who are or are soon to be at work on books in aerospace history. The first holder of the Lindbergh Chair was Charles Harvard Gibbs-Smith, a pioneer in the history of early flight. A subsequent recipient was the late Ron Davies, who held the chair from 1981 to 1983, who then become our curator of air transportation, a post he held just up to the time of his death in 2011. His last book, Airlines of the Jet Age: A History (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011), was published just before his death. The Lindbergh Chair for 2012-13 will be Stuart Leslie, author of The Cold War and American Science: The Military-Industrial-Academic Complex at MIT and Stanford (New York: Columbia UP, 1993). Dr. Leslie will examine six “iconic” architectural spaces that he believes transformed perceptions of the space age.

Ramsey Fellowship in Naval Aviation History

Wings and Warriors

Wings and Warriors: My Life as a Naval Aviator, by Donald D. Engen, Smithsonian Institution Press, 1997.

The Ramsey Fellowship was the result of a bequest by Juanita Ramsey, the widow of Admiral Dewitt Clinton Ramsey, who had commanded the carrier USS Saratoga during World War II, and who later became commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet before he retired. Paul E. Garber, whose pioneering efforts helped to found the National Air and Space Museum, was the first holder of the Ramsey Fellowship, which was an appointed position. Another appointed Ramsey Fellow was E. T. Wooldridge, who held the position from 1990 to 1994 and who was a curator in the Aeronautics Department and subsequently Chair, and later Assistant Director for Museum Operations. A later appointed holder of the Ramsey Fellowship was Donald D. Engen, a career naval aviator and officer, and former head of the National Transportation Safety Board, who became the Director of the Museum in 1996. Engen wrote his memoir Wings and Warriors: My Life as a Naval Aviator (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1997), while a Ramsey Fellow. During Engen’s time as Director, the Ramsey Fellowship became a competitive grant.

Other Ramsey Fellowship holders were: retired U.S. Navy Admiral Gerald E. Miller, who wrote Nuclear Weapons and Aircraft Carriers: How the Bomb Saved Naval Aviation (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2001) during his tenure; Norman Polmar, who wrote Aircraft Carriers: A History of Carrier Aviation and Its Influence on World Events, Vol. I: 1909-1945 (Washington, D.C.: Potomac Books, 2006) during his tenure, and Thomas Wildenberg, who wrote All the Factors of Victory: Adm. Joseph Mason Reeves and the Origins of Carrier Air Power (Washington, D.C.: Potomac Books, 2005) during his tenure.

The National Air and Space Museum is no  longer accepting applications for the Ramsey Fellowship. The funds have been reprogrammed with the intention of providing funding for an eventual curatorial chair in naval aviation history.

A.Verville Fellowship

The A. Verville Fellowship was named for Alfred V. Verville, an innovative pioneer aviator and aircraft designer and manufacturer. The Verville Fellowship is a competitive grant that is open to academics and non-academics alike, who are interested in analyzing major trends, developments, and accomplishments in aerospace history.

Among the recipients are Dik A. Daso, former curator of military aircraft at the Museum, who worked on Hap Arnold and the Evolution of American Air Power (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001); Asif A. Siddiqi, who wrote The Red Rockets’ Glare: Spaceflight and the Soviet Imagination (New York: Cambridge UP, 2010), and Christine R. Yano, author of Airborne Dreams: “Nisei” Stewardesses and Pan American Airways (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2011).

Center for Earth and Planetary Studies Postdoctoral Program

The Center for Earth and Planetary Studies (CEPS) is the scientific research unit at the Museum. Most of the research in CEPS focuses on geologic processes that have shaped the surfaces of rocky bodies in the solar system, including the Earth.

CEPS has supported 22 post-doctoral researchers since the program began in 1994, drawing well-qualified candidates from a variety of U.S. and international universities. External grants, mostly from NASA, fund most of the salary, conference travel, field work, and other expenses. One fellowship is supported by a Smithsonian endowment. CEPS post-docs are able to submit research proposals for external funding as Principal Investigator, and many have funded a substantial portion of their own time, as well as subsequent careers in research.

To date, CEPS post-docs have published 46 peer-reviewed journal articles and chapters as lead author, and pre-doctoral research assistants have authored another 25. Post-docs have received 30 research grants totaling over $2 million. Two have served as participating scientists on three NASA planetary missions (Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter, and the Dawn mission to Vesta), and others have supported missions by working with a CEPS staff scientist on a mission team.

Five of the 22 CEPS post-docs since 1994 are currently in residence. Of the 17 who have completed their appointments, seven are now university professors, six work for a non-profit research institute or university on grant-funded science projects, three have pursued careers in government, and one is in private industry.

The Aviation Space Writers Foundation Award

Right Stuff, Wrong Sex

Right Stuff, Wrong Sex: America’s First Women in Space Program, by Margaret A. Weitekamp, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004.

In April 2000, the Smithsonian Institution and the National Air and Space Museum accepted a financial gift from Aviation Space Writers Foundation. In exchange for the gift, the Museum would “support financially the work of a journalist, writer, or not-for-profit organization that is engaged in research and writing on significant aviation and space issues, developments or achievements, the publication of which may increase or enhance public awareness and knowledge of aviation, space flight, or the aerospace industry.” The grant also includes archival projects and the “product created as the result of the grant award must be in any form suitable for potential public dissemination in print, electronic or broadcast or other visual medium, including but not limited to a book manuscript, a video or film script, or monograph.” The award is given every two years in even-numbered years (2012, 2014, etc.).

A past recipient of the award (in 2002) was Margaret Weitekamp for work on her book Right Stuff, Wrong Sex: The Science, Culture, and Politics of Lovelace’s Woman in Space Program, 1959-1963. In 2006  Matthew Morrison  received the award for a drama based on the life of Willie “Suicide” Jones, an African American professional parachute jumper and aerial stuntman. The current recipient (2012) is Rebecca Herman, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of California, Berkeley. Ms. Herman’s topic is the Pan American Airways World War II Airport Development Program, which will examine Pan Am’s development of airports in Latin America during World War II.

All in all, our Fellowship Program has significantly advanced the scholarship in aerospace history, technology and science.

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

Acknowledgment

I am indebted to a former Guggenheim Predoctoral Fellow, Dr. Alan D. Meyer, for his excellent research on the Museum’s Fellowship Program, which I have drawn on for this blog. Allan is now an Associate Professor in the Department of History at Auburn University. Thanks also to Dr. Rossman P. Irwin III of the Center for Earth and Planetary Studies for providing information about CEPS Postdoctoral Program.

My Cuban Missile Crisis

Posted on by
8
cuban missile crisis

Aerial photograph taken by a U-2 reconnaissance aircraft showing a Soviet SA-2 Missile (V-75 Dvina, Guideline) surface to air missile (SAM) site in La Coloma, Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

 

Growing up in the Washington, D.C. area during the 1960s was… interesting – History would have a way of occasionally butting into an otherwise typical suburban boyhood. The memory of John F. Kennedy’s inauguration comes back to me in a Proustian sort of way through the taste of hot chocolate, which my father administered to me in an attempt to thaw me out during the bitter cold of January 20, 1961; Ask not what your country can do for you… went right over my head – I was trying to ward off frostbite.

In the fall of 1962, I was eleven – my chief concerns were building models, wangling visits downtown to see my favorite museum, and trying to figure out how to get to see Dr. No and Lawrence of Arabia, both of which opened around that time. I don’t recall when I became aware of the doings in Cuba – that the Soviet Union had shipped missiles there that threatened our survival, and that President Kennedy had ordered a strict naval blockade, and that war was right around the corner. If my parents were worried – and they must have been – they hid it very well, or more likely I was just oblivious. My friends and I at Kensington Junior High had heard that some fathers had disappeared – had been secretly sent to what would later be called Undisclosed Locations. But my dad rather disappointingly stayed put, and the one kid I knew who said his father, who worked for the Government Printing Office, had vanished, was widely suspected of lying.

What I mainly remember of the Cuban Missile Crisis was a map published in either the Washington Post or Star. It showed the Washington area with concentric circles radiating out from the White House, illustrating what sort of effects an H-bomb detonation would have – something similar to this, I think. It showed that the downtown area would essentially be vaporized, and lethal blast effects could be expected all the way out to Chevy Chase Circle on the border of D.C. and Maryland. My friends and I discussed the map endlessly. We, out in the leafy Maryland suburbs, could expect a fair amount of blast, but our sturdy brick ramblers could probably take it, we thought – bad luck on any dads caught downtown, though. But the fallout was worrisome. We could expect, the map warned us, a fair amount of gamma radiation out our way. None of our families had fallout shelters, even though they were conveniently offered for sale at a nearby used car lot. I believe our gang decided that we would just hunker down in our basements and hope for the best. One of the guys pointed out that although the map did show the H-bomb detonating neatly over the White House, the Soviets were quite capable of missing the target – Ground Zero might turn out to be nearby Wheaton Plaza, instead. In which case, all of our careful calculations, and ourselves – were toast…

So my friends and I assumed that we were all going to die, but I don’t recall that we were terribly concerned by the thought. At the height of the crisis, our school had a nuclear attack drill – no duck and cover for us; we were all sent home so we could be blown up with our families. As my buddies and I walked home, our main topic was - was it to be bombers, or missiles? Strolling down Kensington Parkway, we looked up at the clear blue autumn sky, and watched for contrails.

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

Watch a video of Dino Brugioni, former senior official of the information branch of the National Photographic Interpretation Center tell of the Cuban Missile crisis in Eyeball to Eyeball: The Inside (Photographic) Story of the Cuban Missile Crisis, recorded on Friday, October 19 in the Airbus IMAX Theater, Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.

Investigating the Apollo Valley

Posted on by
Reply
Mauna Kea

Patrick Russell investigating the geology of Apollo Valley on Mauna Kea, Hawaii

In July, I joined a team from Johnson Space Center and elsewhere in investigating the geology of Apollo Valley with rover-deployed scientific instruments. Apollo Valley is a former 1960s Apollo-era astronaut training site at 3,505 meters (11,500 feet) on Mauna Kea, Hawaii. The project was funded by NASA’s Moon and Mars Analog Mission Activities Program, which funds projects that simulate scientific, robotic, and human aspects of exploring the Moon and Mars, with the goal of designing the most effective, efficient, and well-integrated future missions.

With plentiful basalt lava flows and cinder cones in a dry, barren environment, Mauna Kea is a good analog for the Moon and Mars. Reworking of rocks by ice and water provides another analogy to likely Mars processes. I led the ground-penetrating radar (GPR) investigation, with the radar antenna mounted off the back of the rover. Other rover-mounted instruments included panorama and video cameras, a Moessbauer spectrometer, and navigation instrumentation.

By sending radar waves into the subsurface and detecting their reflections off objects and layers and different materials, GPR provides a view of the upper 3-6 meters (10-20 feet) of the subsurface. We were able to trace surrounding lava flows under the bouldery valley fill to some extent, from which we can estimate the volume of material filling the valley. Also evident were multiple layers of cinders, sands, and gravels that sometimes interfingered or truncated against each other, suggesting multiple episodes of material movement (by wind, water, or mass wasting) and different source directions.

Another important aspect of the project was the pre-field planning and post-field data analysis based solely on rover-collected data, by scientists who were not in the field, to determine how to improve planetary geologic exploration and science return from remote, robotic operations.

The rover itself (~272 kg. or 600 lbs. with four ~40 centimeter- or 16 inch-diameter wheels treaded with small metallic plates) was developed by a Canadian company, Ontario Drive and Gear, in coordination with the Canadian Space Agency, with a view towards future planetary surface missions. The rough lava surfaces, bouldery terrain, and slopes at the site provided grueling physical tests of particular interest to the rover’s engineering and design team. The rover turned in an impressive performance, proving to be quite capable on terrains far rougher than traversed by the rovers currently on Mars.

Patrick Russell is a geoscientist in the Center for Earth and Planetary Studies at the National Air and Space Museum.

The Curious Story of a Cuban Missile Crisis Artifact

Posted on by
1
U-2 Photo

This U-2 photograph, taken Oct 14, 1962, shows a truck convoy approaching a deployment of Soviet medium-range ballistic missiles near Los Palacios at San Cristobal. Analyzed on the Museum’s CIA elevating table, this photograph was the first identified as clear evidence of Soviet medium-range ballistic missiles (MRBM) in Cuba. Credit: Dino A. Brugioni collection at the National Security Archive, George Washington University.

On Monday morning, October 15, 1962, CIA photo interpreters (PIs) hovered anxiously over a light table at the National Photographic Interpretation Center (NPIC). The mood was urgent and foreboding. They peered down on 928 photographs of high quality—some of the best shots had a resolution of three feet. The images were just 24 hours old and top secret–taken by Major Richard S. Heyser on a clandestine flight over Cuba in a high flying U-2 aircraft. The extraordinary flight would inaugurate a whole series of high and low altitude reconnaissance sorties over Cuba.

One of only two Air Force pilots checked out to fly the CIA-modified U-2, Major Heyser had flown from Edwards Air Force Base in California to photograph a large corridor of territory west of Havana. His onboard camera possessed an effective range of 75 miles. On this spy mission, he encountered no fighter interceptors or anti-aircraft defenses.

Hycon Model B

This Hycon Model B panoramic camera, installed in a Lockheed U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, provided positive proof of the existence of Soviet missiles in Cuba, precipitating a crisis that led the world to the brink of nuclear war. Photo by Eric Long, Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.

Once Heyser landed his U-2 at McCoy Air Force Base near Orlando, Florida, the exposed film was loaded on a courier aircraft for immediate delivery to the CIA in Washington. From late Sunday afternoon into the night, technicians worked feverishly to transfer the negatives onto clear acetate positives. No effort had been spared to ensure that the high value images reach the green light table at the NPIC for analysis on that fateful Monday morning.

During a work session that extended into the late afternoon the PIs eagerly and painstakingly scrutinized this remarkable cache of photos. They discovered clear evidence of Nikita Khrushchev’s bold move to install a network of missile launch sites in Cuba. All who viewed the photos at the NPIC realized that a confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union was now imminent, and it would bring the two Cold War rivals to the brink of a nuclear war.

One of the identified launch sites—dubbed San Cristobal No. 2—revealed telltale signs of construction with six missile trailers, stacked equipment, and tents for the work crews. Arthur Lundahl, the Director of NPIC, viewed this image at the light table. He agreed that this installation was being prepared for SS-4 medium range missiles. “If there was ever a time I want to be right in my life, this is it,” Lundahl later observed. He then contacted CIA Headquarters with this momentous intelligence coup. By 8:00 pm, McGeorge Bundy, the National Security Advisor, had been alerted. When faced with this grim report, Bundy decided to delay his briefing for the President until the following morning.

While still in his pajamas, President Kennedy viewed the photographs in a Tuesday morning briefing. He was told: “Mr. President, there is now hard photographic evidence that the Russians have offensive missiles in Cuba.” The implications of the Soviet installations in Cuba were ominous. Some of the missile launch sites, it was feared, could be armed with nuclear weapons in two weeks. Experts warned that 80 million Americans could die within ten minutes of the firing of missiles from these launch sites, a mere 90 miles off shore.

The rest of the story is well-known. President Kennedy moved quickly to organize a special executive committee to advise him on the proper American response. Both military and diplomatic measures were followed to resolve the crisis. For Kennedy, the removal of the missiles was imperative and non-negotiable. He ordered a quarantine of Cuba on October 21. Plans were in motion to strike the missile bases, even invade Cuba.

President Kennedy’s televised address on October 22 at 7:00 pm alerted the nation to the unfolding crisis. The stakes were indeed high: “It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.” The enforcement of quarantine (read blockade) meant the possible interception of Soviet ships en route to Cuba. How would the Soviets respond? The fate of the world seemed tied to a hair trigger, one that could be set off by either side.

The crisis ended on October 28 when both superpowers agreed to step back from the abyss. The Soviet Union agreed to withdraw the missiles in exchange for a declaration from the United States that it would not invade Cuba and withdraw missiles from Great Britain and Turkey.

The light table had been at the epicenter of this unparalleled national crisis—what became known as the Cuban Missile Crisis.

The Light Table at the CIA

CIA

Inside the CIA’s National Photographic Interpretation Center (NPIC), Washington D.C., 1962. The CIA elevating table is on the right. Credit: Dino A. Brugioni collection at the National Security Archive, George Washington University

In the decade that followed, the CIA took measures to preserve its “Cuban Missile Crisis artifacts.” In 1972, on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the crisis, the CIA showcased these artifacts in a special 31-panel exhibit. Sadly, the exhibit was “closeted” and not accessible to the general public.

In January 1976, Michael Collins, Apollo 11 astronaut and then Director of the National Air and Space Museum, was authorized to see the CIA’s 1972 exhibition, then in storage. This visit had been arranged by Dino Brugioni of the NPIC, a man who would do much to enlarge the public understanding of the Cuban Missile Crisis in the decade that followed. Collins was impressed with the many photographs and artifacts associated with the exhibit.

In a follow up letter to William E. Colby, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Collins expressed his interest in the transfer of the Cuban Missile Crisis artifacts to the National Air and Space Museum—particularly, “duplicate negatives of photographs used…the historic U-2 camera, pilot suits, ejection seat, survivor gear, photo interpretation equipment, etc.” A month later, Carl E. Duckett, Deputy Director for Science and Technology at the CIA, notified Michael Collins that a selection of artifacts from their 1972 exhibit would be transferred to the Smithsonian Institution.

The Light Table Comes to the Museum

In February 1977, the light table, along with 14 other artifacts, arrived at the Museum’s storage facility in Suitland, Maryland. Don Lopez, then Assistant Director for Aeronautics, had expressed in his correspondence with the CIA an interest in displaying some of the missile crisis artifacts in a future exhibit. For this reason, possibly, the light table was transferred to the Museum on the National Mall in Washington, DC. When the light table did not fit into the exhibit program, Lopez decided to keep it in the Aeronautics Department. Eventually he recruited me to accession the light table and the other CIA artifacts, a curatorial task I completed on August 3, 1984.

At this juncture, Lopez encouraged me to retain the light table within the confines of the Aeronautics Division. From the mid-1980s to 2011, it became a welcome fixture in my curatorial life at the Museum. For a host of volunteers (too many to name here, sadly), the light table was present with us, witnessing our activities as we sorted documents and photographs related to a series of books: Gatchina Days; Igor Sikorsky: The Russian Years; Stalin’s Aviation Gulag; Great Aviators and Epic Flights; and most recently, Red Phoenix Rising, The Soviet Air Force in World War II. One major initiative was the organization of the “Russian Aero Collection,” a huge assemblage of reference materials in both Russian and English. Other archival tasks conducted in the presence of the light table included processing of the Rodina Collection, the Black Wings Exhibit collections, and the copying of the audio cassette tapes of lectures by major aerospace figures in the old Langley Theater. We all maintained a deep respect, even awe, for the historical significance of the light table in American history. It brought a unique ambiance to our work environment.

Von Hardesty

Von Hardesty is pictured with the elevating table that was used, along with light table and optics, by CIA analysts to review U-2 photographs taken over Cuba in October of 1962. The photos were the first to confirm medium-range ballistic missile launch sites under construction in Cuba, and kicked off the most tense 13 days of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Photo by Eric Long, Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum

In the late 1980s, I was routinely visited by air attaches from the Soviet Embassy. Knowing of my specialization in Russian aviation history, they perceived that I might be an important contact to make in Washington (a wild exaggeration, of course!). They came to the Museum for conversation, research in our library, and occasionally for lunch. I should note that two of three air attaches I hosted at the Museum were expelled from the United States as spies. When they visited my office, they sat in a chair next to a historic artifact associated with the Cuban Missile Crisis, a fact I delighted in bringing to their attention!

On August 3, 2011, on the eve of my retirement, I arranged to transfer the light table to storage at the Garber Facility. This was indeed a sad day. I was reluctant to bid farewell to this venerable companion. I determined, however, that in the last week of the partnership, the light table would bear witness to one more link to Russia. I sorted a group of Russian language books on early aviation—a personal gift–for their transfer to the Ramsey Room of the National Air and Space Museum Library. Up to its final hours in our Division, there was continuity with Russian historical themes.

Some Reflections on Artifacts

Three dimensional artifacts possess intrinsic power and meaning. They offer an avenue to connect with the past—in a way quite different from books or films. They are tied to our texture of memory in a unique way. For example, standing next to the Spirit of St. Louis is awe-inspiring when you think of Charles Lindbergh’s solo flight across the vast expanse of the Atlantic in this small and fragile airplane. It is not just another airplane. The human feat associated with the material object is alluring and magnifies our sense of history.

The light table links us in a tangible way to the Cuban Missile Crisis. For several hours on October 15, 1962, this nondescript table became a hinge point in history. Of course, there are other “tables” associated with an epic moment in history. One example quickly comes to the mind—the marble top table used by Robert E. Lee to sign the surrender documents at Appomattox, Virginia in April 1865. Here one mundane piece of furniture in the home of Wilmer McLean became a platform for a momentous event to unfold. That historic artifact, I understand, now resides in the Chicago Historical Society.

Taking leave of the light table evoked in me and my volunteers a certain longing. We wondered if and when we would meet our old friend again, or if the venerable artifact would need to remain in storage for years to come (we joked about that familiar warehouse scene at the end of the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark!). Our fond wish is for the light table to reemerge some day in an exhibit at the Museum. A second light table used by CIA photo interpreters during the Cuban Missile is on loan to the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, directly across the National Mall from our Museum in Washington, DC, and can currently be seen on display in their Price of Freedom exhibition.

Von Hardesty recently retired as curator in the Museum’s Aeronautics Division

This Friday, Oct 19, don’t miss “Eyeball to Eyeball: The Inside (Photographic) Story of the Cuban Missile Crisis,” a lecture with Dino Brugioni, former CIA analyst who was at NPIC when the first U-2 photos were analyzed.