Archive for the 'Aviation' Category

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Hollywood’s Representation of Naval Aviation: Frank W. “Spig” Wead and John Ford’s “The Wings of Eagles” (1957)

Introduction

During the recently completed centennial of naval aviation (2011), there were many and varied tributes to the factual history of naval aviation. Nevertheless, we cannot forget that public perception of the armed forces is also a strong historical consideration. In Sailing on the Silver Screen: Hollywood and the U.S. Navy, Lawrence Suid has observed that “for most of the past ninety years the American film industry and the U.S. Navy have worked together to their mutual benefit. Hollywood used the Navy to obtain—at little or no cost—personnel, equipment, and locations for movies filled with adventure, romance, and drama. In turn, the Navy obtained—at little or no cost—a positive public image that boosted both its recruiting efforts and its relations with Congress.” This is especially true if we consider how the careers of two pioneers of Hollywood and the U.S. Navy—director John Ford and screenwriter Frank W. “Spig” Wead became intertwined during the Golden Era of filmmaking and how Ford paid tribute to his friend and colleague in The Wings of Eagles (1957).

 

Frank Wead

Frank W. “Spig”’ Wead was a pioneer naval aviator who became a notable Hollywood screenwriter. His many credits include films about the U.S Navy or naval aviation.

Wead’s Early Naval Career

Wead was born on October 24, 1885, in Peoria, Illinois. He entered the U.S. Naval Academy in 1912 at the age of sixteen and graduated in 1916. He spent time during WWI doing mine work in the North Sea, after which he qualified as a naval aviator. In 1923 he led the Navy team that competed in the Schneider Trophy Race at Cowes, Isle of Wight. Two of his teammates—Lt. David Rittenhouse and Lt. Rutledge Irvine—placed first and second in the race. Wead continued as a naval aviator, setting naval aircraft records for speed, endurance, and distance and eventually working for the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics.

 

Wead’s Hollywood Career

In 1927, an unexpected turn of events changed Wead’s life forever. After he took a fall in his house in Coronado, California, he was seriously injured, having fractured the fifth cervical vertebra in his neck and doing irreparable damage to his spinal cord. After surgery and more than two painful years of recuperation, he progressed to being able to sit up, and, with the aid of steel braces, to walk. Wead decided that he needed another activity to recuperate fully, so he tried his hand at writing. In time he collaborated on a script for The Flying Fleet (1929), the first Hollywood film about contemporary military flying, with Byron Morgan, a former naval aviator who had become a screenwriter for MGM (Metro Goldwyn Mayer). The Flying Fleet was also the first in a long list of films credited to Wead that were about the U.S. Navy or naval aviation. Wead also wrote screenplays about civil aviation, including one for Air Mail (1932), a film directed by John Ford, and Ceiling Zero (1936), a film directed by Howard Hawks that was based on a play Wead had written that appeared off-Broadway in 1935. He again worked with Ford on They Were Expendable (1945), based on the true story of Motor Torpedo Boat Squadron 3, commanded by Medal of Honor winner John D. Bulkeley during the evacuation of the Philippines early in WWII. This film is considered one of the best war films ever made..

 

Wead’s World War II Service

After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Wead had gotten permission to reenter the Navy through the good graces of an old friend, Admiral John Towers. His first assignment was as an assistant to Captain Ralph Davison, chief of the Plans Division of the Bureau of Aeronautics. Later, Wead trained air combat intelligence officers at Quonset Point, Rhode Island. From October 1943 to June 1944, he was a planning officer on the staff of the Commander Air Pacific in Hawaii. In this capacity, he helped develop plans for Makin, Tarawa, Eniwetok, and Kwajelein. All these operations led up to the battle for the Marianas Islands.

Wead was also credited with developing the idea of escort carriers (the so-called “Jeep Carriers”), which were employed to provide logistical support for the main carrier forces. During the Marianas air assaults, he was invited onboard the U.S.S. Yorktown by Admiral J. J. Clark as an observer. He was involved in actual combat during the Marianas battle when Japanese aircraft attacked the ship. Despite his disabilities, Wead showed courage and was an inspiration to the crew. After the Marianas, Wead decided to retire from the Navy and return to screenwriting. For his service during WWII, Wead was awarded the Legion of Merit. He died on November 15, 1947 at the age of 52

The Wings of Eagles (1957)

The idea for The Wings of Eagles came about as a way of honoring Wead, but John Ford, the film’s intended director was somewhat reluctant to undertake the project. He and Wead had been close friends. According to Ford’s biographer, Joseph McBride, Ford is reported to have said “I didn’t want to do the picture, because Spig was a great pal of mine. But I didn’t want anyone else to do it.”

That Ford would become involved in a film honoring Wead and the U.S. Navy should come as no surprise. Ford himself became a naval officer quite late in his life. In 1934 he had enlisted in the U.S. Navy Reserve and was commissioned as a Lt. Commander. In 1939 Ford began to organize the Naval Volunteer Photographic Unit, which eventually became known as the Naval Photographic Organization, to document naval combat activities. In September 1941 Ford was appointed chief of the Field Photographic Branch, which was part of the Office of Strategic Services, headed by William J. Donovan. In that capacity Ford was at the Battle of Midway, which he filmed and whose footage he turned into an Academy Award-winning documentary of the same name in 1942.

Two unsuccessful attempts were made to produce a film about Wead. Finally, Kenneth MacKenna, a story director at MGM, and John Dale Price, Wead’s old friend, now a retired admiral, who eventually became technical advisor for the film, collaborated on a script. After nearly eight months of work, MacKenna submitted the script to the Pentagon for approval, and the Navy’s Office of Information agreed to cooperate, despite some opposition on the grounds that the script contained historical errors.

While the film, which starred John Wayne as Wead, and Maureen O’Hara as his wife “Min,” portrays naval aviation history in a favorable light, it cannot be considered entirely historically accurate, confirming the Navy’s reservations. In addition to historical inaccuracies, some of the Navy’s objections were based on the portrayal of alcohol abuse in the film. Evidently, the drinking scenes that had to do with Maureen O’Hara’s character had to be cut because Wead’s children protested. Nevertheless, the film provides more than subtle hints that alcohol played a significant part in Wead’s life and in the life of his wife, and that it may have been responsible for their inability to reconcile the demands of military life with the demands of family.

 

co-stars of The Wings of Eagles

The co-stars of "The Wings of Eagles," John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara are pictured. The film, a tribute to the naval aviation and Hollywood screenwriting career of Frank “Spig” Wead, was directed by John Ford in 1957.

Evidently it was not practical for Ford to portray Wead’s contributions as a screenwriter to positive depictions of naval aviation in prewar films like Dive Bomber (released in August 1941 before the attack on Pearl Harbor). Instead, he relied heavily on a part-fiction, part-fact portrayal of Wead’s military contributions during the interwar years and in WWII. In fact, Wead’s achievements in WWII are much more factually presented in the film than those that take place during the interwar years. Ford’s message is strong: Wead was not only a staunch defender of naval aviation, but a doer, in spite of his debilitating handicap. Moreover, it is important to realize that The Wings of Eagles is significant also for what it says about American values as seen through the lives and ordeals of military men. The Wings of Eagles, like some of Ford’s other films, displays familiar Fordian themes: the sense of community among American naval men: in this case, naval aviators; naval service as a reflection of national identity; an intermingling of historical fact with historical fancy.

 

Dive Bomber

Errol Flynn (center), the star of "Dive Bomber," a 1941 film written by Frank W. “Spig Wead, poses in a pressure suit with members of the cast and film crew.

Nevertheless, the film may be interpreted on other levels. Dan Ford, Ford’s grandson, contends that the film is a veiled autobiography of his grandfather. Both Wead and Ford were restless and disposed to lives of action. Because they were both disabled, they were attracted to vicarious adventures. Both were involved in moviemaking as a substitute for military careers. Both served in WWII but as observers rather than as combatants. Both neglected their families to focus exclusively on their careers. Both preferred masculine companionship to that of women.

As a result, The Wings of Eagles may be seen as two films. One contains the mythologizing biography of “Spig” Wead and extols naval aviation and American values of patriotism, courage and perseverance. The other, a more personal one, critiques the institution—the U.S. Navy— that would create an atmosphere which is potentially dangerous to family life.

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

 

The Rutan Voyager

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

WINGS: From the Wright Brothers to the Present

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.

 

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

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

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

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.

 

A Poultry Pilot

 

Turkey Aviator

A Turkey Aviator - Chromolithographic Postcard, c.1910. SI 96-15868

 

Turkeys are generally  considered to be flightless birds, but as this postcard from the files of the Museum’s Archives Division vividly illustrates, they are capable of short hops, especially when at the controls of biplanes.

If you’re flying to your Thanksgiving destination, bon voyage, and keep your eyes peeled for flying turkeys.

Allan Janus is a museum specialist in the Archives Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Alien Hoax Revealed at the National Air and Space Museum!

Last Friday, the Museum hosted an online conference devoted to critical thinking in the Internet age. Using four conspiracy theories in aerospace history to demonstrate effective research techniques, staff from our Museum, the US Department of the Navy, and National History Day engaged with students and teachers from across the globe.

Here are the topics we examined:

  1. What happened to Amelia Earhart? Did she crash in the Pacific, or was her disappearance fabricated as part of a government plot?
  2. Did Franklin Delano Roosevelt know about the attack on Pearl Harbor before it happened?
  3. What are UFOs and are we being visited by extra terrestrials?
  4. Did Americans actually land on the Moon? Or was it all an elaborate hoax?

 

Buzz

Buzz Aldrin salutes the American flag on the Moon.

We chose this theme because it provides excellent examples of why it is important to examine every story with a critical eye. Conspiracy theories always challenge the accepted narrative, interpreting details that institutional analysis either deliberately omits or cannot explain. As such, the people who question these official stories have already begun the process of critical thinking, but they haven’t necessarily followed through to the end.

In order to conduct a more thorough inquiry into each of these subjects, our presenters stepped through a critical thinking checklist that can be described in further detail on the Virtual Salt website. Shortly put, when examining any topic, one should evaluate its Credibility, Accuracy, Reasonableness and Support (CARS). If we apply this tool to any of the conference topics, we discover that the likelihood of conspiracy is very low, but it should be noted that this isn’t always the case. These questions are helpful for any historian or researcher and can be applied to any resource being considered — from newspaper articles to archival photos to historic artifacts.

 

close encounters

The mother ship model used for the 1977 film "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" currently on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.

The conference concluded with a panel discussion during which our historians described some of their most exciting discoveries. Our own Tom Crouch, senior curator in the Aeronautics Division, discussed how he determined that the wing tips of the world’s first powered airplane, the 1903 Wright Flyer were actually made from carriage spreaders. This contribution to the historical record shed light on who Orville and Wilbur Wright really were and how they worked. It was an exciting moment in his career.

Another panelist, Randy Papadopoulos, secretariat historian at the Department of the Navy, probably summed it up best when he described a particular “aha” moment he once had:

You realize, wow! This is a singular event. This is something that no one else has considered… The devil is in the details — you have to do some digging to find out, but when you do, you feel this tremendous sense of relief. [You realize] okay, I actually made a contribution that’s original. I’ve done something new here.

We’d like to thank all of our panelists for continuing to contribute original insights through their dedicated and thoughtful research. And thanks to everyone from around the world who participated in our online event.

For those who couldn’t attend, please check out the recordings online.

We enjoyed producing this conference, and we hope to do more. Please let us know what kind of topics you’d like to see us examine in future online events.

Ivey Doyal is a content manager in the Web and New Media Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Taking Flight with Lady Liberty

What comes to mind when you think of the Statue of Liberty? America, freedom, democracy. Her image is immediately recognized around the world as an ambassador for the United States and icon of the American dream.  She has been the focal point of many a celebration over the years and in several cases, the gracious hostess (and waypoint) for aerial races and demonstrations.  In celebration of her 125th anniversary, we gathered a few images, objects, and posters that feature inspiring views of Lady Liberty in the context of flight.

Wilbur Wright flies a Wright Type A by the Statue of Liberty during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum Archives)

Wilbur Wright  was contracted for $15,000 to make a series of flights during the two-week Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909, which was commemorating the 300th anniversary of Henry Hudson’s first entry into what would become New York Harbor, and the centennial of Robert Fulton’s first voyage of his North River Steamboat up the Hudson River in 1809. Wilbur made a seven-minute flight on September 29th , circling the Statue of Liberty.  On October 4th, he made a long-distance flight of more than 33 minutes and approximately 20 miles from Governor’s Island to Grant’s Tomb and back, again circling the Statue of Liberty.  It is estimated that a million people witnessed Wilbur’s flight up the Hudson from Governor’s Island. For these flights, Wilbur attached a red canoe under the airplane as a make-shift pontoon in the event he was forced down in the water.  The canoe survives and today is on display in Carillon Historical Park in Dayton, Ohio.

The popular journal "Harper's Weekly" covered Wilbur's circling of the Statue of Liberty. An original is on display in "The Wright Brothers & The Invention of the Aerial Age" exhibition in Washington, DC. (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum Archives)

John Bevins Moisant flew over New York Harbor in 1910 in a Blériot XI monoplane. This flight took place during the Statue of Liberty Flight prize race on October 27, 1910.  The race was the final event in one of the first major flying meetings held in the U.S., the International Aviation Tournament at Belmont Park, NY.

Clock from the Lindbergh King Collection ( (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum)

Lady Liberty appears frequently in memorabilia commemorating Charles Lindbergh’s historic solo transatlantic flight from New York to Paris. On this clock, displayed at the Museum’s Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, the Statue of Liberty represents New York (America) while the Eiffel Tower represents Paris (Europe) with the Spirit of St. Louis flying between them. Not to scale, of course.

TWA used an inspiring visual of Lady Liberty with one of their Lockheed Constellation aircraft in this advertisement for commercial passenger service to and across the U.S. (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum)

 

Bill Bennett demonstrates his tow-kite in a flight around the Statue of Liberty on July 4, 1969. (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum)

Bill Bennett played a key role in the initial development of hang gliding in the U.S. He was a spectacular promoter of the sport and stirred publicity for his tow-kites when he flew near the Statue of Liberty on July 4, 1969, released his towrope and circled the monument twice, landing at its base. Several of his gliders are in our collection.

In 1986, a major celebration was held for the restoration and 100 year anniversary of the Statue of Liberty. Liberty Weekend included a blimp race and flyover by the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds aerial demonstration team.  We don’t have any images from Liberty Weekend handy, but here is a great shot of the Thunderbirds with Lady Liberty in 2005.

Six F-16 Fighting Falcons with the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds aerial demonstration team fly in formation over the Statue of Liberty before an air show May 26, 2005. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Josh Clendenen)

Over the years, the Statue of Liberty has symbolized many things, Freedom, Enlightenment, Compassion, Acceptance to all those arriving in the land of opportunity — what does she mean to you?

Flying the “Spirit of Tuskegee” Part III

This piece is a follow up to the posts below, in which I describe my experience flying a PT-13 Stearman that was used to train Tuskegee Airmen during WWII, from Moton Field, Alabama to Andrews AFB. This  aircraft has been accessioned into the collection of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. Please see:

Tuskegee Bird Flies North
Spirit of Tuskegee Arrives at Andrews AFB
“Spirit of Tuskegee” arrives at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar – Part II

 

spirit of tuskegee

Capt. Matt Quy instructs modern military curator Dik Daso in the proper use of safety belts in the cockpit

“Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away…” I was a USAF pilot. But I had not flown an aircraft since I retired in 2001. I was both excited and a bit nervous as Matt provided my orientation to the Stearman front cockpit. It is a simple plane and the front seat offers tremendous vistas, very few cockpit instruments to check, a basic throttle and mixture control on the left side and a control stick that when seated is centered between the knees.

Sitting in the sun at Moton Field was HOT. I mean totally-sweaty-in-five-minutes hot. After I was safely strapped into the seat, Matt hopped into the rear cockpit, fastened his safety belt and shouted the traditional engine start warning, “Clear Prop!” He had pulled the propeller through the arc about six times before we got in and the engine putted and popped to life. The propwash immediately lowered the temperature 20 degrees and things became very comfortable.

After a quick wave to the ground staff, Matt taxied the Stearman to the active runway. Since his forward vision is limited, he steered from left to right making a continuous “S” pattern to maintain a partial view of the way ahead. As we approached the hammerhead (the end of the taxiway where engine run-up’s are done prior to takeoff) Matt transmitted out departure direction over the radio so that any aircraft nearby would be alerted to our initial route of flight. After holding the brakes and running the 300 horse power Lycoming engine to full while checking the engine instruments, Matt taxied onto the active runway, gradually pushed up the throttle and we began the takeoff roll. We were airborne in about 121 meters (400 feet).

On the departure leg at Moton Field, Matt asked me if I was ready to fly the aircraft. It took me a moment to stow my iPad as I was attempting to send a “tweet” from the air (It didn’t work). I had to tuck it under my leg because there was no map storage case in the front cockpit.  That task accomplished, I reported that I was ready and he passed me control in the way that all Air Force pilots do—“OK, You have the aircraft,” to which I replied, “I have the aircraft!” including a little shake of the control stick that signaled a definite transfer of aircraft control.

I was flying a Stearman that had been flown by Tuskegee Airmen during WW II…to myself I thought, “Are you KIDDING…this isn’t really happening.” But it was.

During the first leg of the journey, I worked on polishing my rusty pilot skills so that Matt wouldn’t need to worry much while I was at the controls. He gave me a few pointers on maintaining speed and altitude, adjusted the power for efficiency, and navigated via land features and towns. We swapped control a few times during the hop, and we both enjoyed the scenery and the camaraderie that Air Force pilots seem to always generate. By the end of the near two-hour flight I had narrowed my margins from plus or minus 91 meters (300 feet) in altitude to plus or minus 15 meters (50 feet) and my course control had improved as well. Matt joked with me about being a “mostly-jet” pilot as I hadn’t touched the rudder once during the flight. For a propeller-driven airplane, yaw is created by the rotation of the prop, and for a real “stick and rudder man,” being just a little off coordinated flight is easy to pick up. Next leg, I started touching a little right rudder to coax the Stearman into flying a perfectly straight path through the sky. I think I had figured it out by the last day. Only Matt can confirm that fact.

In my last blog entry I recounted our flight over Appomattox Courthouse (“Spirit of Tuskegee” arrives at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar – Part II). As far as linking history to the plane, that was by far the most amazing moment. But there were other significant and extremely fun times during our 11 hours in the air. Here are a few of those.

 

On the way to Toccoa, Georgia, Tina had asked Matt to fly past Currahee Mountain. The rough translation from the native language is, “stands alone.” Appropriate as the 242 meter (800 foot) mountain can be seen from many miles away when the air is crisp and clear. During WW II, several paratrooper units trained for combat at the foot of Currahee.

 

currahee mountain

Currahee Mountain, Georgia, through the Stearman wing

When we landed at Toccoa, the weather looked a bit threatening. As Matt pulled up the fuel pump (that’s right, you just taxi right up to the pump like you do in your car), a young man who worked at the airfield approached Matt and offered to shelter the Stearman in a nearby maintenance hangar to protect it from looming thunderstorms. So Matt graciously accepted and we all breathed just a bit easier knowing that the aircraft was safe and sound. And while it did not rain or thunder while we were at Toccoa, the generosity and thoughtfulness demonstrated by this young fellow was just wonderful.

 

MX Hangar in Toccoa

The PT-13D in the MX hangar at Toccoa

On the next leg to Shelby, NC, Matt and I enjoyed some spectacular cloud formations and wonderful, very spiritual images of the sun piercing through them—breathtaking and humbling.

 

sun

Looking back, much of the flight was stunning and spiritual

Perhaps the most fun we had on the trip was at Orange, VA, where we quite accidentally met up with a great friend and fellow pilot, Matt Jolley. Jolley keeps his L-2 at Orange and happened to be there to move his plane around and secure another family member’s flyable Chipmunk before the arrival of a sizeable storm. But instead, in another simple act of kindness, Jolley gave Quy the keys to his hangar so that we could get the Stearman under cover, and, as it turned out, it was a very good thing. Although Matt and I had planned to make an additional hop that afternoon, the weather turned out to be too extensive so Matt decided to stay put in Orange. We all helped moving and tying down the three vintage planes and finished securing them just before a gulley-washer of a rain storm struck the field. The storm provided another tremendous image to add to the trip log.

 

Rain

Man, did it ever rain. Even though Matt Jolley gave up his hangar for the Stearman, he was rewarded with this remarkable shot of his L-2 surrounded by a colorful rainbow.

Matt Jolley happens also to be the host of the only 24/7 radio program devoted entirely to warbirds—WarbirdRadio.com.  So to pass some time while waiting for the storm to pass, Jolley interviewed Quy for the radio program.

 

Matt Quy and Matt Jolley

Matt Quy (left) and Matt Jolley

The following day, the three of us had a rare opportunity to do a little bit of formation flying—us in the Stearman and Jolley in the Chipmunk. We took off just after dawn and the rising sun was simply unearthly.

 

Chipmunk and Stearman

The Chipmunk and the Stearman on the ground at Orange, VA

 

Jolley returned to the field and landed while Matt demonstrated some simply acrobatic maneuvers for me in the Stearman. In reality, this is a very maneuverable warbird and can turn on a dime. We returned to Orange for some fuel, said our “thank yous” and farewells to Matt Jolley and the airfield staff, and took to the skies for the trip to Manassas, VA. We had an appointment with inspectors from the TSA and we didn’t want to be late. I took a short video at Manassas of what the landing looks like from the front cockpit. Matt is actually much smoother on landing than the clip shows as I “fumbled the football at touchdown” for just a second.

When a civil airplane is going to land inside the controlled airspace that surrounds the greater Washington DC area, the pilot, plane, and passengers must meet with inspectors from the TSA prior to entering the controlled area. While Matt is an active duty USAF officer, the plane is technically a civilian. We were to meet the team at Manassas for clearance before the short hop to Andrews AFB that afternoon. We arrived at the terminal building and waiting for us there was TSA—not one or two, but four TSA inspectors! After a search and baggage inspection, the TSA folks examined the Stearman inside and out and were finally satisfied that Matt, me, and the Stearman were cleared to proceed to Andrews AFB. They had a sense of humor after all was done and even posed with our luggage at the plane. They were all great young Americans.

 

TSA

The TSA team with Matt at Manassas

Then it was time to fly over to Andrews AFB, my last leg in the PT-13D. The flight went by far too quickly as both Matt and I were busy map reading to remain outside of the controlled airspace until it became necessary to enter for the approach to the airfield. After another perfect landing, Matt taxied the Stearman to Hangar #3 where it would remain until Friday—the day of its final flight to the Hazy Center.

After engine shutdown, Matt graciously fielded interview question and posed for pictures. He is a tremendous ambassador for the Tuskegee Airmen and the Air Force.

 

Quy

Capt. Quy fields a few questions upon arrival at Andrews AFB

In the final installment of this series I will fill you in on the interim plans for the PT-13D at the Udvar-Hazy Center near Dulles International Airport and also how the cooperative spirit at the Smithsonian helped to bring the Spirit of Tuskegee to Washington.

If you check our flight itinerary below, you will see some pretty rural locations. When flying under see and avoid rules in visual flight rules weather it is best to keep well away from large towns—and airports. At each stop the people we met were absolutely fabulous. They shared protective hangar space, helped to refuel the aircraft, lent us a car, drove us to a hotel, picked us up from a hotel, admired Matt’s plane, and took photographs. What great Americans—kind, thoughtful, interested, and aviation fanatics.

Flight Log:

Sunday, 31 July
Moton Field to Covington Muni, GA 1:47
Covington, GA to Toccoa, GA
Via Currahee Mountain
1:00
Toccoa, GA to Shelby, NC 1:45
Monday, 1 August
Shelby, NC to Blue Ridge Airport, Martinsville, VA 1:43
Martinsville, VA to Orange, VA
Via Appomattox Courthouse
2:00
Tuesday, 2 August
Orange, VA (Local Hop) :55
Orange, VA to Manassas, VA 1:00
Manassas, VA to Andrews AFB, MD :50

Dik Daso is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum.