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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.

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

 

The Santa Claus Express, Then and Now

Santa Claus

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

 

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

 

santa

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

The Rutan Voyager

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

 

Voyager

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

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

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

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

 

Dick and Jeanna

Dick Rutan and Jeana Yeager in Voyager’s cramped cockpit

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 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.

 

Remembering Steve Jobs

Like so many of us, I too was saddened to hear of the death of Steve Jobs last week. I never owned an Apple II, but I recalled very well those early days of personal computing, when one had to choose among a variety of machines with different operating systems, hardware configurations, and processors. My first computer used the same processor as the Apple II (A Motorola 6502, if you care about these things), but it had a different operating system. Unfortunately, my memory is not as clear about the time, years later, when Steve Jobs visited the National Air and Space Museum.

 

NeXT

NeXT Workstation. Source: picture taken by Alexander Schaelss, 15 April 2004. License: GNU FDL; Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike

I believe it was around 1988, when the Beyond the Limits gallery was being installed. At that time Jobs had left Apple and was the head of a company called “NeXT,” which was selling a workstation, whose capabilities went beyond those of SUN or Silicon Graphics machines, not to mention ordinary personal computers.  In any event, Jobs had enough faith in what we were doing to make a donation to the Museum to support the Beyond the Limits Gallery. He also gave us a NeXT workstation, which we promised him we would use to develop a flight simulator for the gallery. But after some efforts, we eventually gave up. I regret we were not able to make his NeXT donation work. The NeXT computer was tricky to work with, but it did have its fans. One researcher at the European Center for Nuclear Research (CERN) in Switzerland got one, and while we were struggling to program ours, he used his to write a program for the Internet that he called the World Wide Web. Maybe you’ve heard of it.

Business Card

Steve Job's business card.

We searched in vain for photos of that evening when Jobs was here, but I did manage to find his business card in my card file. So long Steve, and thanks for having faith in the National Air and Space Museum. We will miss you.

Paul Ceruzzi is the Chair of the Space History Division at 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.

 

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.