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.

 

New Plants Blast off in the Landscape

Space Age Mums

“Space Age Mums” advertisement in Flower Grower, 1961. Smithsonian Institution Libraries, Botany and Horticulture Branch.

Moonbeams, rockets, and Blue Angels are not just showcased in the National Air and Space Museum — they are in the garden too!  The extensive terraced garden that surrounds the Museum is now home to many plants with extraordinary cultivar names that reflect the Air and Space theme, like Skyrocket Juniper (Juniperus scopulorum ‘Skyrocket’) and Globemaster ornamental onion (Allium giganteum ‘Globemaster’).

Cultivars are plants with unique characteristics that maintain these traits through breeding.  These plants are typically bestowed a distinctive name which may reflect a particular attribute. Skyrocket Juniper, for example, received its name because it grows quickly to a 6 meter (20 foot) tall spire, but only reaches .5 meters (2 feet) wide, thus resembling a tall green rocket. The range of plant names that can be assigned is practically limitless.  Memorable historical events can also inspire the naming — or renaming — of plants. The launch of Sputnik I in 1957, for instance, opened new frontiers of plant names befitting the Space Age; common marigolds and petunias were reintroduced to gardeners as blazing comets or flying saucers in outer space.

Since January, Smithsonian Gardens staff has been hard at work enhancing the terrace garden surrounding the National Air and Space Museum.  A work plan was launched with a brainstorming session that focused on how best to bring the Air and Space theme to the garden area, essentially reflecting the inside outdoors, and beginning the visitors’ Museum experience as soon as they stepped onto the grounds.  Preliminary planning resulted in an extensive list of plants with air- and space-inspired cultivar names.

 

Smithsonian Gardens

Smithsonian Gardens staffers Jeff Smith and Thomas Hattaway planting Minuteman, Blue Cadet, and August Moon hostas at the Museum

Over the coming months, the garden areas at the Museum will be enhanced with nearly 300 perennials and 13,000 bulbs.  Just a few of the exciting new plants going into the garden include Minuteman and Blue Angel Hosta, orange Tang tulips, giant purple Globemaster ornamental onion, tiny Moonbeam coreopsis, and Eremurus bungei which are commonly called desert candles but very much look like the fiery exhaust that follows the space shuttle into space.

 

Hostas

'Minuteman' Hostas

Despite being earth-bound, the garden at the National Air and Space Museum incorporates a variety of plants, shrubs and trees that pay homage to the skies above us. Now, visitors will not only see Cold War relics, rockets’ red glare, and jet engines inside, but also jetfire daffodils and Minuteman Hostas outside!

 

Brett McNish is a supervisory horticulturist for Smithsonian Gardens

 

 

35 Years at the National Air and Space Museum

When I began to work at the National Air and Space Museum in March 1975, I was the Museum’s sole reference librarian, having graduated from Catholic University of America with an M.S. in Library Science the previous year. I had only been working for a few weeks, when I was told that we’d be moving from our Arts and Industries Building location to a brand new facility down the street. My boss, a professional of some standing in the librarian community, knew her job well, but she didn’t know much about moving a library, so it was up to me and one of my stalwart colleagues, a guy named Bill Jackson, whom some old-timers will remember fondly, to figure out how to box everything up and move it less than a city block away.

 

Arts and Industries

Rocket Row along the west side of the Arts and Industries Building before the National Air and Space Museum was built.

We wouldn’t open the new Museum to the public until the next year—July 1976, but the goal was to get everything into the newly-constructed building by end of summer 1975 so we could be fully operational for the official opening. That meant a lot of preparation—trying to figure out, in our case, how to pack books and other library materials, and label the containers so that we knew what we had at the other end. Another consideration was conservation. We were told that we had to attend a briefing given by Dr. Robert M. Organ, chief of the Conservation Analytical Laboratory, a predecessor of what is now the Museum Conservation Institute. I don’t remember much about the lecture, except the upshot, which was that we were to place in every box that was to be moved, a square of cotton gauze into which would be put a scoop of moth crystals (I’m not sure exactly how much); the gauze would then be tied with string. (It looked like a bizarre moth crystal wedding favor.) The moth crystals would prevent any live insects from being transported in the boxes that traveled from one place to the other. So before anything could actually be moved we had to prepare what seem liked hundreds—maybe even thousands—of these little containers of moth crystals.

 

The day was set in May 1975 for the production of the moth crystal packets. We had everybody involved, staff, interns, and whomever else we could corral into doing the odious—and odoriferous—task. We formed an assembly line; some people cut the gauze, some people put the crystals into the gauze squares, and some people collected the packets and placed them into large cardboard containers. The Arts and Industries Building wasn’t air conditioned, so we opened all the doors and windows and turned on two giant fans, but to no avail. The smell of moth crystals hung heavily in the air for what seemed like forever. It took us a couple of weeks, but we produced what we thought were enough of the packets so that one could be placed in every box to be moved. (Some of this process was done in a less-than-scientific way, so we may have missed some boxes.) We went home every evening reeking of moth crystals and were unable to get that smell out of our nostrils. I began to wonder why in the world I ever took the job.

 

An evening in July was chosen for the move. The movers were mostly college students hired by a local moving company who had little or no idea of what they were doing. We spent an entire summer’s night loading the boxes into the moving van, removing them at the other end, and hauling them up to the space in the west end of the building where the library would be. Around 10:00 pm, the moving boys decided they needed a beer break and dispersed to who knows where. At 10:30 or so, some of them hadn’t returned, but we couldn’t wait. We just went on without them. Somehow we managed to get everything transferred. By the time we opened the last of the boxes, sometime at the end of summer, we discovered that the moth crystals had evaporated!

 

National Air and Space Museum

The National Air and Space Museum being constructed ca. 1974. Opening its doors on July 1, 1976, the National Air and Space Museum quickly became the most popular museum in the world.

 

By October the library was up and running, and even though the Museum was still under construction and you couldn’t go anywhere outside the third floor without a hard hat, we were answering mail and telephone calls—no visitors yet, of course. The day of the opening came on July 1, 1976, and we had no idea of the horde of visitors who wanted to use the library (no appointments were necessary in those days). We were literally overrun, but it was a good feeling because after so much work, the place was a success. To this day, I can’t go near a moth crystal without thinking of my earliest days at the National Air and Space Museum.

 

dom

The author (second from left) shortly after he became a curator at the National Air and Space Muesum, at the September 1982 opening of the exhibition Black Wings: The American Black in Aviation. Other staff and volunteers who worked on the exhibition are from left to right Louis R. Purnell, Lou Lomax, Edna Owens, Von Hardesty, and Ted Robinson (Federal Aviation Administration).

 

 

 

 

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

 

Mr. Lincoln’s Air Force: Top 10 Reasons to visit the Museum on June 11th

How do the National Air and Space Museum and the Civil War intersect?  Come find out as we tell the story of the Union Balloon Corps  founded in June 1861 by President Abraham Lincoln. 150 years ago next month Thaddeus Lowe demonstrated ballooning to President Lincoln on a spot just north from where the Museum now stands on the National Mall.

The Civil War themed family day for all ages, called Mr. Lincoln’s Air Force, will take place Saturday June 11th, 2011 from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

There are possibly 101 reasons to come to the family day, but here are the top ten:

10. Learn about the Union Balloon Corps because it would be a great conversation starter at your next summer picnic.

Thaddeus Lowe

Lowe's balloon the Intrepid being inflated at Fair Oaks, Virginia, May 1862

9. Experience what D.C. was like in 1861 through amazing photographs and walking tours with National Park Service Rangers.

8. Learn how Civil War ballooning impacted the future of espionage techniques.

 

Thaddeus Lowe

Thaddeus Lowe goes aloft aboard the balloon Intrepid to observe Confederate activity during the Battle of Fair Oaks, May 31-June 1, 1862.

7. Build your own balloon replica from strawberry baskets, pipe cleaners, and paper plates.

6. Indulge your inner-Civil War buff, pull out the Union soldier costume that you’ve never been able to wear, until now.

5. Design and construct your own binoculars and see a pair actually used by Thaddeus Lowe.

4. Meet “Abraham Lincoln” and ask him all those questions you’ve been meaning to ask since you read Team of Rivals.

3. Meet author Gail Jarrow who will be signing her book, Lincoln’s Flying Spies: Thaddeus Lowe and the Civil War Balloon Corps.

2. Talk with “Thaddeus Lowe” and members of his Balloon Corps and find out how balloons managed to stay aloft during battles.

 

Thaddeus Lowe

Aeronaut Thaddeus S.C. Lowe

1. See a massive balloon inflated on the National Mall. It probably won’t happen again for another 150 years so make sure you see it on June 11th!

More about this historic event.

Emily Kotecki is the family day programs intern at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, and a graduate student at The George Washington University studying museum education.