Archive for the 'History' Category

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Costume Ideas from the Great War

 

ballet

An Aeronautical Ballet, 1918. NASM 9A 02153

If you’re still stumped over what your costume will be for next Saturday’s big Air & Scare at the Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center (October 29 from 2 – 8 pm), the photograph shown above, from the July 1918 issue of Die Luftflotte, might provide some inspiration. The Hamburg Youth Division of the German Airfleet Association (the Deutscher Luftflotten-Verein) performs their “great and patriotic” aeronautical ballet Through Battle to Victory at a rally of the association to benefit  injured pilots and their families. The dancers outfitted as monoplanes are a superb touch – the fellow on the right with the hammer must be Thor, but there’s no explanation in the original caption as to what the other characters portray. Maybe the chap with the umbrella is portraying a Morane Parasol fighter?

If you picked an aircraft-themed costume for Halloween, what would you choose? I’d like to go trick-or-treating as a sleek SPAD XIII or an Albatros D.Va. But sadly, I’d be more realistic as a blimp… Add your choice to the comments.

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

 

Mountain of Arabia

 

Joseph Mountain

Joseph D. Mountain. Al Jubayl, Saudi Arabia, May, 1935.Photograph by Max Steineke. SI 92-16169

 

Blogs across the Smithsonian will give an inside look at the Institution’s archival collections and practices during a month long blogathon in celebration of October’s American Archives Month . See additional posts from our other participating blogs, as well as related events and resources, on the Smithsonian’s Archives Month website.


In 1934, Joseph Dunlap Mountain, a thirty-two year old former Army Air Service pilot, signed on with the California-Arabian Standard Oil Company (CASOC, now Saudi Aramco) to serve as a pilot, aerial photographer and mechanic on the company’s 1934-’35 survey expedition to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

 

water holeWater vendor. Al Hofuf, Saudi Arabia, March 19, 1935. Photograph by Joseph D. Mountain. SI 92-16126.

 

The expedition was, of course, looking for oil. In addition to the aerial photographs he took from the expedition’s Fairchild 71 monoplane, Mountain also snapped hundreds of other photographs, making a fascinating document of the desert kingdom at the very edge of the tremendous changes that the petroleum era brought to the Gulf. The images are a fascinating record of traditional Saudi Arabian life, crafts and architecture. Mountain photographed portraits of dancers at Eid al-Fitr celebrations, market scenes in Hofuf and the Old Town of Al Jubayl, camel caravans, Saudi hunters with their hawks, and pearl fishermen and their dhows. Mountain also extensively photographed members of the CASOC expedition – Art Brown, Hugh Burchiel, J. W. (Soak) Hoover, Russell Gerow, Dick Kerr, Schuyler (Krug) Henry and Max Steineke – at work and relaxing with their Saudi co-workers and acquaintances.

 

 

well

Looking down on the well, Fort Dammam. January 5, 1935.Photograph by Joseph D. Mountain. SI 92-15966.

 

Later, Joseph Mountain flew as a pilot for Trans World Airlines. During World War II, he returned to active duty with the U.S. Army Air Corps. He was awarded the Bronze Star while serving in the China-Burma-India Theater and supervising supply missions over “The Hump” – the dangerous air route over the Himalaya Range. After the war, Mountain worked in the nascent computer industry and founded a computer manufacturing company and a data processing firm. Joseph Mountain died on November 25, 1970 at the age of 68, and his family donated his photographs, diaries and flight log books, reports, and maps to the National Air and Space Museum. His Saudi photographs can be viewed online – portraits of an exotic, but not so distant past.

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

Where are the Voyagers now?

The remarkable twin Voyager spacecraft continue to explore the outer reaches of the solar system decades after they completed their surveys of the Outer Planets.  Launched in 1977 (September 5 for Voyager 1 (V1) and August 20 for Voyager 2 (V2), whose trajectory took it past Jupiter after Voyager 1), the spacecraft pair made many fundamental discoveries as they flew past Jupiter (March 1979 for V1, July 1979 for V2) and Saturn (November 1980 for V1, August 1981 for V2).  The path of Voyager 2 past Saturn was targeted so that it continued within the plane of the solar system, allowing it to become the first spacecraft to visit Uranus (January 1986) and Neptune (August 1989).  Following the Neptune encounter, both spacecraft started a new phase of exploration under the intriguing title of the Voyager Interstellar Mission.

Voyager

Voyager Spacecraft

Five instruments continue to collect important measurements of magnetic fields, plasmas, and charged particles as both spacecraft explore different portions of the solar system beyond the orbits of the planets.  Voyager 1 is now more than 118 astronomical units (one AU is equal to the average orbital distance of Earth from the Sun) distant from the sun, traveling at a speed (relative to the sun) of 17.1 kilometers per second (10.6 miles per second).  Voyager 2 is now more than 96 AU from the sun, traveling at a speed of 15.5 kilometers per second (9.6 miles per second).  Both spacecraft are moving considerably faster than Pioneers 10 and 11, two earlier spacecraft that became the first robotic visitors to fly past Jupiter and Saturn in the mid-70s.

 

Jupiter

This processed color image of Jupiter was produced in 1990 by the U.S. Geological Survey from a Voyager image captured in 1979.

As seen in the night sky at Earth, Voyager 1 is within the confines of the constellation Ophiuchus, only slightly above the celestial equator; no telescope can see it, but radio contact is expected to be maintained for at least the next ten years.  Voyager 2 is within the bounds of the constellation Telescopium (which somehow sounds quite appropriate) in the far southern night sky.

 

Heliosphere

Diagram of the Voyager and Pioneer spacecrafts leaving the solar system.

Both spacecraft have already passed something called the Termination Shock (December 2004 for V1, August 2007 for V2), where the solar wind slows as it starts to interact with the particles and fields present between the stars.  It is expected that both spacecraft will encounter the Heliopause, where the solar wind ceases as true interstellar space begins, from 10 to 20 years after crossing the Termination Shock.  Theories exist for what should be present in interstellar space, but the Voyagers will become the first man-made objects to go beyond the influences of the Sun, hopefully returning the first measurements of what it is like out there.  Each spacecraft is carrying a metal record with encoded sounds and sights from Earth, along with the needle needed to read the recordings, and simplified instructions for where the spacecraft came from, in case they are eventually discovered by intelligent extra-terrestrials.

 

Voyager Record

The Voyager "Sounds of Earth" Record, placed on board the Voyager spacecraft contains sounds and images selected to portray the diversity of life and culture on Earth.

 

Keep track of the Voyager spacecraft on the official Voyager Interstellar Mission website or follow @NASAVoyager2 on Twitter.

 

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

The sun ejects a continuous stream of charged particles (electrons, protons, etc) that is collectively termed the solar wind.  The particles are traveling extremely fast and are dense enough to form a very tenuous atmosphere; the heliosphere represents the volume of space where the effects of the solar wind dominate over those of particles in interstellar space.  The solar wind particles are moving very much faster than the local speed of sound represented by their low volume density.  When the particles begin to interact with interstellar particles and fields (the interaction can be either physically running into other particles or experiencing an electromagnetic force resulting from a charged particle moving within a magnetic field), then they start to slow down.  The point at which they become subsonic (rather than their normal hypersonic speed) is the Termination Shock.

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.

Telstar and the “Global Village”

Since October 1997, the Space History Division has been celebrating a number of fiftieth anniversaries: Sputnik, Vanguard, Yuri Gagarin’s flight, Alan Shepard’s Mercury Flight. Next July we hope to celebrate another. On July 10th, 1962 at 11:47 GMT, the world’s first transmission of a television image by satellite took place, using the Telstar satellite. Prior to Telstar’s launch that summer, NASA experimented with a passive reflector—“Echo” to transmit signals over the horizon, but engineers soon realized that the most practical way to transmit television, with its high bandwidth requirements, was by an “active satellite”: one that would receive a signal and then retransmit it to a ground station on another continent.  (Most people know the name “Telstar,” if not for the satellite, then for the hit instrumental song by the Tornados, with its “space age” synthesizer sound.)

 

Telstar

An engineering back-up of the Telstar satellite, in the collections of the National Air and Space Museum.

dome

The antenna was located in a remote area of Brittany, the westernmost part of France. It was protected by a flexible Mylar dome, which was transparent to microwave radio frequencies. Photo: Musée des Télécoms, Pleumeur-Bodou, France.

Last week I had the great fortune to visit the French village of Pleumeur-Bodou, on the Brittany coast, where that first transmission was received. The microwave antenna in the US, at Andover, Maine, was dismantled years ago, but the one in Brittany has been preserved and is in excellent condition (although it is no longer used). Because Telstar flew in a low-Earth orbit, it was only visible to the ground stations for a few minutes at a time, unlike today’s geostationary satellites, whose 24-hour orbits position them in the same place in the sky at all times. So the antenna had to track the satellite carefully as it passed overhead. Unlike modern dish-shaped antennas, this one was shaped like a giant horn, based on the design of microwave repeaters built by AT&T for long-distance telephone in the U.S.  Entering the 64-meter (210 foot) diameter protective Mylar dome, and climbing onto the giant horn was an experience I will never forget.

Telstar Antenna

The antenna was not a dish but a horn, mounted on bearings to track the satellite as it passed overhead. The design was adopted by AT&T, which built it, based on existing microwave telephone relay antennas. Photo: Musée des Télécoms, Pleumeur-Bodou, France

It worked. The initial test on July 10 was followed by images of the U.S. flag waving, Mt. Rushmore, and a “live” portion of a press conference held by President Kennedy. The French, in turn, transmitted a tape of Yves Montand singing “La Chansonnette.” After a string of Soviet firsts in space, this was one the U.S. could claim as a first, finally. A modest beginning, but look at what Telstar has brought us. We take it for granted that whenever there is a major event happening anywhere in the world: a Royal wedding, a benefit rock concert, an earthquake—anything—we expect to see it “live.” Marshall McLuhan prophesized that the “cool” medium of television would make us all inhabitants of a “global village.” That did not happen right away, which led people to dismiss his predictions as mere fancy. But with the combination of satellite telecommunications, the Internet, and Facebook (the last two appearing after McLuhan’s death), who would say that he was wrong? And it all began with Telstar.

Paul Ceruzzi is Chair of the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

“Spirit of Tuskegee” arrives at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar – Part II

This post is a follow up to the following:
Tuskegee Bird Flies North
Spirit of Tuskegee Arrives at Andrews AFB

During the Stearman trip to DC, while each and every moment created either a new and exciting memory for me or revived one of the old ones from my Air Force flying days, there were two moments that I will vividly remember forever.

The first took place after departing the Blue Ridge Municipal Airport near Martinsville, VA. We flew over the NASCAR track at Martinsville, a short track famous for exciting, tight, hard-nosed races and then turned northeast toward Lynchburg. Approaching the Virginia border, I reminded Matt that Appomattox Court House was just a few miles off course to the east. We had discussed the significance of the location before we took off and with excellent weather and some keen eyes we found the McLean House in Appomattox Court House, VA, and flew a few orbits over the very location where Gen. Robert E. Lee had surrendered the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia to Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant—essentially ending the American Civil War.

 

NASCAR

Martinsville Raceway, Virginia. The only NASCAR track that hosted a race in the first official season of cup racing that still holds NASCAR events today.

 

Appomattox

McLean House in Appomattox Court House, VA. The location of Lee’s surrender to Grant in April 1865.

 

Here we were, flying an airplane that had been flown by the Tuskegee Airmen during a conflict that had taken place 80 years after the Civil War—a war that brought an end to the institution of slavery. It was these Airmen who continued the civil struggle. Their struggles resulted in the desegregation of the U.S. military in 1947, and eventually, the entire country. But the real significance of this aircraft really began to sink in at this point. Not only did segregated Tuskegee Airmen fly this plane, but in the past three years, many of those same Airmen had flown in it once again—only now in a racially integrated nation that they themselves had helped to create! It is this contemporary story that is crucial—it is a story of both “history” and “culture” that is to be preserved and documented by the new museum for generations of Americans not yet born. This aircraft represents a nation’s ability to change. It was a humbling moment that we two shared in silence below the purr of the Lycoming engine.

 

signatures

Signatures of the surviving Tuskegee Airmen that have flown in the Stearman in the past three years

 

 

spirit of tuskegee

Captain Quy and Tina make their final approach to landing at Dulles

The second moment occurred at the back door of the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar after Matt and Tina flew the final hop before transferring the plane to the Smithsonian.  After eight hops, eleven hours, 800 miles, and countless visual and physical experiences during the journey north, I fell in love with the Stearman. The freedom of the open cockpit, the smells, and the historic significance of this plane, the skill and whit of a youthful Air Force pilot, the exhilaration and just plain fun of the entire experience—it was miraculous! But the moment that I will always remember was when Matt and Tina, having just ferried the Stearman from Andrews AFB to Dulles Airport, removed their flight headgear for the final time and looked over at the small group that had gathered at Hazy for their arrival. It looked to me like a few tears had been shed during the taxi from Dulles, through the taxiway gate, and to the restoration hangar. For six years, this young couple—an active duty USAF Captain and a full time sales rep—had invested blood, sweat, money, time, research, and now tears into this artifact and it was part of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture’s collection where it will continue to tell the Tuskegee Airmen’s story. I must say, when Matt and Tina’s parents joined them at the aircraft with hugs and pride bursting from their faces, my happy tears stained the tarmac along with rest of them.  Matt and Tina were giving up their baby, and they knew it. After just a few short hours flying in that plane, I understood the emotions—a part of that Stearman will stay with me forever.

 

Spirit of Tuskegee

Captain Matt and Tina Quy

 

Captain Matt and Tina Quy

Tina and Matt look at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar with a bit of awe

 

proud parents

Matt and Tina with their extremely proud parents

Soon the Spirit of Tuskegee will move from the restoration hangar to the south end of the Udvar-Hazy Center where it will remain on display until 2014. Then it will be moved to the exhibition space of the not-yet-built National Museum of African American History and Culture

Spirit of Tuskegee

The PT-13D Stearman Spirit of Tuskegee parked inside the restoration hangar awaiting retrofit for display

In future installments, I’ll recount some of the really fun, funny, and awesome trip happenings, some background on the collaborative efforts that have taken place within the Smithsonian that made this acquisition possible, and also fill you in on the aircraft retrofit and display location at UHC.

On Thursday, 25 August, I will be presenting a talk at 1230 at the Udvar-Hazy Center about the Stearman. Please join me at the Hazy Center next Thursday for “Ask an Expert.”

 

Dik Daso is curator of modern military aircraft in the Museum’s Aeronautics Division.

 

“How the Shuttle Got Its Wings”

“How the Shuttle Got Its Wings” is a brand new interactive theater program the Museum is presenting this summer in the Moving Beyond Earth exhibition. We are fortunate that the Smithsonian family includes Discovery Theater, a theater group that focuses on young audiences. We approached them more than a year ago about creating a program highlighting the space shuttle program, especially for the Moving Beyond Earth stage.  The show finally debuted in mid-July and our timing couldn’t have been better. The successful mission of shuttle Atlantis several weeks ago closes the book on the space shuttle story. The topic has been all over the news and many of our visitors want to talk about it. The program is presented four times daily to enthusiastic audiences who want to reminisce about the shuttle era.

 

How the Shuttle Got its Wings

Actor Jennifer Joyner presents “How the Shuttle Got its Wings”

The 20-minute program starts with an excerpt from President Nixon’s 1972 speech announcing the development of “an entirely new type of space transportation system… it will revolutionize transportation into near space by routinizing it.” Routine, reusable, safe, and affordable… four words we repeat often in the program. Those were the goals for the shuttle. The story unfolds through the eyes of an aerospace engineer. We chose that character because the story is about the shuttle itself — its various components, its design, and its role.

The program is based heavily on the Moving Beyond Earth exhibition script (currently in development), which focuses on the space shuttle era. The second phase of the exhibition, opening in 2012, will feature fascinating models of what the shuttle could have looked like, a life-sized shuttle mid-deck that visitors can explore, and many objects flown in space and just recently de-accessioned by NASA.

 

How the Shuttle Got its Wings

Actor Calvin McCullough presents "How the Shuttle Got its Wings."

We worked with the Discovery Theater staff to ensure that the program is highly participatory. Younger ages enjoy helping to put pieces of a shuttle together and representing the different roles the shuttle has played over the years… delivery truck, space bus, service station, science laboratory, and international project. Older visitors enjoy remembering major accomplishments of each orbiter. The program ends with the question: Did the shuttle program meet the criteria set for it? Routine, reusable, safe, and affordable. The audience gets to vote. Our goal is to send audiences away thinking about this one-of-a-kind vehicle and its role in the history of American technology.

What do you think? Did the shuttle program meet the criteria?

The Museum continues to experiment with different ways to engage our visitors and educate people about our collections and research.  This experiment with theater has been well received.  If you haven’t seen the program, it runs daily through August 21 and then a few weekend dates after that. Check the website for times.

Tim Grove is Chief of Education for the National Air and Space Museum’s National Mall Building.

Space Shuttle: The End of An Era

I had my first glimpse of the end of the shuttle era in April, three months before Atlantis touched down from the final shuttle mission. Discovery had just completed its last flight, and I had an opportunity to visit Orbiter Processing Facility (OPF) Bay 3, which for years had been Discovery’s home for between-mission servicing. Discovery did not return to Bay 3 after STS-133, moving instead into Bay 1 for post-flight work.

Servicing home of Discovery

Servicing home of Discovery

 

badge board

Badge Board, normally filled with badges of workers on duty in the Orbiter Processing Facility

I noticed the difference immediately. The empty slots on the badge board on the wall leading to the entrance signaled that no one was at work inside. The check-in desk was vacant, with only a few papers strewn about. The central space normally filled by Discovery and three stories of surrounding work platforms was an empty cavern. With work stands and protective pads stowed to the side, tool boxes closed and locked, computers idled, the hangar and its warren of work areas normally humming with activity stood eerily silent. OPF3 felt suddenly abandoned.  It reminded me of Pompeii.

 

Idled orbiter servicing bay

Idled orbiter servicing bay

Closed buildings and the wrenching loss of employees who spent most of their careers working on the space shuttle are perhaps the most poignant signs of the end of an era that changed the character of spaceflight. The space shuttle made spaceflight seem a more routine, normal part of our nation’s activity. It enabled the United States and its partner nations to make near-Earth orbit a home and workplace.

To fulfill its variety of missions, the versatile space shuttle required crews with more skills and abilities than piloting, thus opening opportunities for scientists, engineers, women, and people of color to join a demographically more diverse astronaut corps. The space shuttle democratized and internationalized human spaceflight. It enabled the growth of new disciplines in microgravity science—biological and physical sciences that explored the fundamental nature of anything in an environment without the dominant influence of gravity.

The last three missions flown in 2011 prompted much commentary about the legacy of the shuttle era. No doubt the evaluation will continue for some time. But in the empty Orbiter Processing Facility, I spotted one authentic assessment scrawled on a whiteboard, probably by someone soon to be out of work:   “Goodbye people. It’s been awesome!”

 

Whiteboard

“Goodbye people. It’s been awesome!”

Valerie Neal is the space shuttle curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

The Last Space Shuttle Mission

I was thrilled to be a part of the NASA Tweetup for STS-135 July 7 and 8 at Kennedy Space Center. It was exciting — and almost surreal — to be there for the end of the space program that my generation grew up with. We weren’t around for the Moon landings, but we all remember the first time the space shuttle “took off like a rocket and landed like a plane.”

Space Shuttle Atlantis

July 8, 2011: "Atlantis" launches for the last time on mission STS-135. Photo credit: Dane Penland, National Air and Space Museum.

NASA holds “tweetups”  — gatherings of people who use the social networking site Twitter — as part of their outreach strategy to raise awareness for the agency’s programs. It is a great opportunity to meet 150 people who care deeply about the space program, are eager to help spread the word and especially want to share the excitement of space exploration.

On July 8 we got to the press site before sunrise and anxiously waited, along with hundreds of reporters from all over the world, to hear if Atlantis was “go for launch.” Most people were not optimistic.  And then the sky cleared and we hardly had time to realize that this was it: the final launch was about to happen and we were there to see it. As if in a movie, there even was the additional excitement of countdown stopping a few seconds before launch.

I took many pictures and tweeted as much as I could, but no words or images can convey the launch experience: the blinding light, the noise so loud you feel it in your chest and the incredible pride that we were able to build a rocket that can take humans safely to space!

STS-135

"Atlantis" races toward space. Photo credit: Isabel Lara, National Air and Space Museum.

It was a bittersweet moment, the program is ending and we’re all waiting to hear what comes next. We are fortunate here at the Museum, because we will be a part of the orbiters’ next mission: to inspire future generations of space explorers. When Discovery comes to the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center next year it isn’t really retiring; it’s changing careers, from space explorer to science educator.

I was incredibly lucky to have a front-row seat to this historic event. I was surprised by how people reacted to my tweets, the questions they asked and how happy they were to share the experience with me. The best reply came from my friend @VaneGill11: I felt as if I was reading a paragraph of history being written sentence by sentence.

Isabel Lara is the media relations manager in the Office of Communications at the National Air and Space Museum.

 

Spirit of Tuskegee Arrives at Andrews AFB

This post is a follow up to Tuskegee Bird Flies North.

…So I was on the phone Monday evening and my wife asked me, “Well, what did you do today?”

With subtle nonchalance I said, “Well, I strapped into the front seat of Matt’s Stearman, ya know, the one that was flown by the Tuskegee Airmen during World War II, and flew over Appomattox Court House, ya know, where Gen. Robert E. Lee surrendered his Army to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant effectively ending the American Civil War and then we headed north so he could turn it over to the National Museum of African American History and Culture to be preserved for all time…just your normal curatorial work day Honey…”

To say that the last three days in the air were, as my kids put it, “ridiculous!” or “sick!”, cannot possible describe the deep emotions, the multiple flashbacks to my previous Air Force piloting life, the liberating freedom of flying in an open-cockpit biplane, or simply the rich thrill of being back in the air again as a pilot after USAF retirement more than a decade ago. I felt like a 25-year-old again. I kid you not! But, from the curatorial side, the past few days have given me a perspective on the experiences of the Tuskegee Airmen during WW II that I previously had only read about, and I am grateful for such an opportunity.

Flying two or three times a day in the unbearable Alabama heat in a heavy canvas (today Nomex) flight suit is more than physically demanding, it requires constant vigilance to hydration, concentration and preparation to ensure safe flight operations and development in the air. Those Airmen that tolerated the heat of the Alabama sun and the pressure of a segregated society are even more remarkable to me now than they were last week. They are true American heroes, each and every one.

Eight hops and 11 flying hours after our departure from Moton Field, Tuskegee, Alabama, Captain Matt Quy (pronounced Kwhy) and I touched down at Andrews AFB where the Stearman will rest for a few days before joining the Smithsonian’s collection on Friday at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. The Stearman will be displayed there in the near future until the NMAAHC begins to install its exhibits in preparation for opening on the Mall in 2015.

This is my story of that three day trip–one I will never forget and will always appreciate!

I had arrived in Tuskegee on Saturday evening and met up with Matt “Happy” Quy at the Kellogg Hotel on the grounds of the Tuskegee Institute. Matt had been at Moton Field flying a photo shoot over the Institute. I heard the Stearman fly past and immediately ran out to see it aloft in the same piece of sky that had been its working home more than six decades ago.  That was when I realized that very soon I would be flying in that very plane — flown by young African-American pilots training to fight in a war in the air above Nazi territory — a war where they would fly and fight next to Army Air Forces bombers and their crews but not be permitted to eat in the same tent as those they defended. Matt and those who had been involved in the day’s activities all joined up to enjoy some dinner and music provided by a great band named Desire. An upbeat mood was set for the next day.

 

Tuskegee

History is made as Captain Matt Quy (USAF) pilots his PT-13D above the Tuskegee Institute, Alabama, where it flew as a training plane during 1944 and 45. This image taken from the photo plane.

PT-13D

History is made as Captain Matt Quy (USAF) pilots his PT-13D above the Tuskegee Institute, Alabama, where it flew as a training plane during 1944 and 45. This image taken from the ground.

It was a sweltering Sunday morning— 90 degrees by 8:00 a.m., sunny and humid. It took all of 15 seconds to break into a profuse sweat. My flight suit was soaked before one-half an hour had passed. Matt was baking in the sun completing a few interviews for Smithsonian media and by noon we were ready to “pull the prop” and crank.  Prior to starting the engine, it helps lubrication to pull the propeller through about six times to move the pistons and pump the fluids through the engine making it easier to start it up.

 

Matt Quy

Fleur Paysour, National Museum of African American History and Culture, completes her interview with Matt before the Stearman makes its final departure from Moton Field.

After a few more photos, including the obligatory flight crew and plane shot (also known as the “hero picture”) we strapped in and then Matt cranked up the engine, and it started the very first try — and it did so every time during the trip.

 

PT13-D

Curator Dik Daso, also a retired USAF pilot, and Matt Quy just prior to takeoff from historic Tuskegee, AL.

 

 

After checking the radios and our cockpit intercom, Matt taxied to the active runway for takeoff. The Stearman is a tail dragger and I never quite got used to the two-part takeoff run. After a warm-up and engine instrument check in the hammerhead (the open spot prior to the active runway), Matt moved into position and ran the throttle to full. Although it was incredibly hot, the big fan really kept things cool in the cockpit. The excitement of the takeoff roll made me forget the sweat anyway. It only took about 30 meters (100 feet) before the tail lifted off the runway placing us in a more natural flying position. About 60 meters (200 feet) later we jumped into the air and quickly accelerated to about 100 knots for the climb to our cruising altitude—about 305 meters (1,000 feet) above the ground.

The wind was a combination of the prop and the ambient air blowing by the cockpit. The small windscreen is more than adequate to deflect the oncoming breeze over the front cockpit so that no direct 90-100 knot winds can be felt unless you hang your hand outside of the windscreen frame. I thought that in flight the noise level would be much greater. But with the sound reducing headset, there is only the low-frequency purr of the engine. Even without the headset, the noise is not nearly as loud as I thought it would be. I was comforted by the engine vibration at cruise settings—a constant hum that is as soothing to the crew as a mother’s heartbeat is to an infant. The best way I can think of to describe the sensations while in flight is like this:

Imagine being seated in a 1965 Mustang convertible automobile—sporty, in a classic way. Now imagine that you are driving that car 95 miles per hour with the top down on a gravel road…that’s about how it feels and smells (except for the dust).

 

Dik Daso

The Stearman pilot/instructor sits in the rear cockpit while the passenger/trainee sits up front. Dik and Matt are cruising toward their first destination.

Flight Log:

Sunday, 31 July
Moton Field to Covington Muni, GA 1:47
Covington, GA to Toccoa, GA 1:00
Via Currahee Mountain
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) 0:55
Orange, VA to Manassas, VA 1:00
Manassas, VA to Andrews AFB, MD 0:50


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