Tag Archives: Aviation

Preserving and Displaying the “Bat-Wing Ship” – March Update

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Horetn

Close up of the acrylic canopy being analyzed by our conservation staff and Smithsonian’s Museum Conservation Institute (MCI).

Waiting for an update on the conservation and restoration of our Horten H IX V3 “Bat-wing Ship?” Here’s the latest! Our conservation staff, in collaboration with curator Russ Lee, is working with the Smithsonian’s Museum Conservation Institute (MCI) to figure out the materials and technologies used to craft the Horten H IX V3.  For example, the transparent canopy was analyzed with a portable Raman spectrometer and determined to be a polymethyl methacrylate (PMMA) plastic.  PMMA was developed by Rohm and Haas in the mid-1930s in Germany and the United States, and the material is reputed to have been incorporated quickly into aircraft canopies, gun turrets, and transparent noses. It is lightweight, impact resistant, relatively easy to form, and transmits light even better than glass.  In this instance, identifying the canopy as PMMA confirms what we already expected from our research of trade literature from that period.  It also shows how studying our collection, visually and with analytical tools like MCIs Raman spectrometer, provides direct physical evidence of an aircraft’s manufacture, which enriches our understanding of the history of early plastics in aviation.

Raman spectroscopy identifies materials by shining a laser beam at a surface and measuring the energy distribution of inelastically scattered light.  It is potentially non-destructive and does not require removing a sample from the aircraft.  MCIs spectrometer weighs only 6 lbs. and fits in a convenient “carry on” sized suitcase for trips out to the Udvar-Hazy Center and other Smithsonian museums.

Lauren Horelick is a objects conservator in the Collections Department of the National Air and Space Museum.

Meet the Curtiss-Wright Aeronautical Engineering Cadettes

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Just when I think I might know something about women in aviation, or just when we think we’ve heard all the stories about “the greatest generation,” I find out about another group who contributed to the World War II effort.  They were not Rosie the Riveters assembling aircraft on production lines nor were they the pilots known as the WASP.  By now, most people have heard of the Women Airforce Service Pilots, 1,074 civilian women who, from 1943 to 1944, flew more than 60 million miles ferrying military aircraft, towing targets, and performing other administrative flying duties for the US Army Air Forces.  Thirty-eight women lost their lives in the course of their duties to their country, but deceased or living, they received no military benefits. After being deactivated in December 1944, so that returning male pilots could resume stateside military flight duties, their remarkable story was lost for many years, in fact until 1977 when Congress finally conferred retroactive military status to the WASP. In the 1990s, various WWII 50th anniversary events reintroduced them and finally, in March 2010, the WASP received their ultimate honor with the awarding of Congressional Gold Medal for their service and “revolutionary reform in the Armed Forces” during World War II. Each living WASP or family of a WASP received a bronze medal and National Air and Space Museum became the repository for the single Gold Medal, now displayed at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. Many books and documentaries now tell the powerful WASP story.

WASP

Members of the WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots) are pictured at Lockbourne Army Air Field in World War II. From left to right are Frances Green, Margaret (Peg) Kirchner, Ann Waldner and Blanche Osborn. The WASP were civilian women pilots who flew in non-combat situations for the U.S. Army Air Forces during the war. The program came to an abrupt end in 1944 because of gender politics.

Recently I learned about another group of unheralded women from the World War II era. Last fall Jean-Vi Lenthe e-mailed me about a women’s aeronautical engineering training and employment program sponsored by the Curtiss-Wright Corporation, and although I must have read about it in Deborah Douglas’ American Women in Flight Since 1940, I could not recall the details. Lenthe promptly sent me a copy of her book that tells the story of the intrepid women, including her own mother, known as the Curtiss-Wright Cadettes. Having never spoken in depth about it with her mother before her death, Lenthe became curious and began contacting the remnants of the Curtiss-Wright Corporation, visiting the old Curtiss-Wright plants and repositories of Curtiss-Wright archives (including the National Air and Space Museum unbeknownst to me), and interviewing living Curtiss-Wright Cadettes. How did her mother become involved and what work did she and the rest of co-eds train for and perform? The motivated and tenacious Lenthe was just the person to unravel this puzzle and the result is Flying Into Yesterday My Search for the Curtiss-Wright Aeronautical Engineering Cadettes.

Flying Into Yesterday

Flying Into Yesterday, by Jean-Vi Lenthe

Curtiss-Wright Corporation was a major aircraft manufacturer in World War II producing, among other aircraft, the P-40 Warhawk for the U.S. Army Air Forces and the SB2C Helldiver for the U.S. Navy. The Helldiver saga was a tortuous one with many complex design and production issues and in 1942, Curtiss-Wright was in danger of defaulting on its contract to provide the Navy with a new dive bomber. At the same time, male engineers were being drafted and the company was having trouble keeping up the necessary engineering work to fix the Helldiver and get it into sustained production. So Curtiss-Wright took the highly unusual step of authorizing women to fill in. Between February 1943 and March 1945, 918 female college students, identified as mathematically advanced, took courses in aerodynamics, engineering, and design at seven universities; 766 Cadettes graduated from the government-sponsored program and began work in five Curtiss-Wright plants.

Lenthe focused on her mother, Ricki Cruse Lenthe, who studied at Purdue University and completed the 10-month program condensed down from a two and one half year engineering curriculum that also included technical drawing, airframe structures, and subjects tailored to the work at the plant to which she would be assigned. Her mother reported to the Handbooks Group of the Service Engineering department at the Columbus, Ohio plant where she helped to prepare the Pilot Handbook for the Helldiver. Many Cadettes worked in drafting departments where they incorporated engineering orders into the original working drawings of the Helldiver, accurately modifying the drawings with major or minor changes (which eventually numbered nearly 900) for production use. It was another Cadette from that plant who years later gave Lenthe the push to research the Cadettes and document their work: Betty Masket, now living in Chevy Chase, Maryland. Masket performed inspections on the production line and once shut it down when she found a clearance issue with the hydraulic line to the dive brakes on the wings. She was concerned the line could be cut and cause an uncontrollable descent of the aircraft.

Lenthe called me because she was coming to Washington, DC to see Masket and wanted to bring her to the Udvar-Hazy Center to see our Helldiver undergoing restoration in the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Center. I am sure she was not really surprised when I told her I knew little of the Curtiss-Wright Cadettes, but no doubt she was yet again disappointed. SuperStorm Sandy delayed her trip east from New Mexico but we finally met on January 21.

Cochrane, Kinney, and Masket

Curators Dorothy Cochrane and Jeremy Kinney with Betty Masket by the Helldiver in the Udvar-Hazy Center.

Visits like this are rewarding aspects of working at the Museum because they have so many layers. Lenthe affirmed her research efforts and the Cadettes identity by linking them to their daily work and accomplishments, in this case Masket with the Helldiver, and Lenthe also made the personal connection to her mother’s work. Masket inspected yet another Helldiver and talked shop with curator Jeremy Kinney and our museum specialists who work on the restoration. Our museum specialists are always delighted to speak with someone with personal knowledge of an aircraft, whether a pilot, mechanic, or female engineer, and they peppered both women with questions. We could not confirm that Masket’s suggested change for the hydraulic line was made, but she thoroughly enjoyed seeing a Helldiver in pieces again and will be back to follow the work. The restorers, Jeremy, and I found out about the Curtiss-Wright Cadettes and we now have another resource for hands-on Helldiver details. I signed up the women for the Museum’s Women in Aviation and Space Family Day on Saturday, March 23. Later in the week, Lenthe and I discussed her growing Cadettes archival and artifact collections and her plans for an exhibit. Our aircraft provided the point of focus for the visit but the true value is in the people, in this case Lenthe, Masket, and the rest of intriguing Curtiss-Wright Aeronautical Engineering Cadettes.

Like the WASP and assembly line workers, the Cadettes were abruptly sent home at the end of World War II. Although they contributed to the production of more than 5,000 Helldivers at the Columbus plant, and more aircraft at other plants, and to propeller and engine programs as well, they did not receive promised help from Curtiss-Wright to finish their engineering degrees after the war. Worse yet, the company lost or threw out records of the program. A few Cadettes went on to become career engineers, some, like Lenthe’s mother, became teachers, and many became homemakers. But whatever they did, they all appreciated their Cadettes experience and the difference it made in their lives.

The Chance-Vought Corporation also established a scholarship program with the Daniel Guggenheim School for Aeronautics at New York University that led to the placement of a small number of female engineers in the Chance-Vought Engineering Department. On the whole though, only a handful of women became career engineers for aviation companies; similarly very few women became pilots or stayed in the industry in other capacities. Most everyone regarded women working for the war effort as just that and, when the war ceased, so did their employment. It would be several decades before women permanently entered the workplace in force.

Women in Aviation and Space Family Day at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.

Women in Aviation and Space Family Day at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.

Jean-Vi Lenthe, Betty Masket, and other Curtiss-Wright Cadettes will host a table at the Women in Aviation and Space Family Day at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA on March 23, 2013, 10:00am-3:00pm

Jean-Vi Lenthe will have a book signing from 12:00 – 2:00 pm.

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

 

 

 

 

Where There is Wool, There is a Way

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My coworkers and I are fortunate: every day, we get to touch pieces of history that few others ever lay hands on and seldom see. Why are we so privileged? We are helping to move some of the National Air and Space Museum’s collections from their previous storage site to new facilities at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia.

Garber

Samantha Snell with wool service caps and garrison caps in various stages of preparation for shipment at the Paul E. Garber Facility. Photo by Eric Long.

The move team consists of contractors, interns, and volunteers overseen by project specialist Samantha Snell. In 2011 and 2012, following much planning, coordination and effort by staff, we helped pack up spacesuits; pressure garments for high-altitude flying; and fur and leather-based objects. This winter, we began the process of relocating more than 1,200 wool artifacts in the Museum’s collection. A year’s worth of blog posts could be devoted to the treasures contained in our shipping crates, such as uniform components like socks used during the exploits of Charles A. Lindbergh and Francis Gary Powers; a beret worn by Jacqueline Cochran; a graduation hood that belonged to Hugh Dryden; uniforms worn by Chuck Yeager, Kiffin Rockwell, Alexander de Seversky and William “Billy” Mitchell;  and even a plush gremlin!

Uniforms

Wool caps and coats, including a Pan Am stewardess topcoat and William “Billy” Mitchell’s U.S. Army dress coat are prepared for shipment at the Paul E. Garber Facility in Suitland, MD. From left to right, Katherine Watson, Amelia Kile, Ashley Koen, Stephanie Harris. Photo by Eric Long.

Representative examples of military uniforms used in World War I and World War II from major participating forces are part of the collection too, as well as civilian uniforms used by commercial airline pilots and flight attendants that reveal changing fashions and subtle (or not so subtle) messages about each airline’s corporate culture.

Each artifact has custom internal supports crafted to match its contours. These supports combat the disfiguring effects of gravity over time, which causes fabric to become stressed and prone to tearing at creases, folds, and seams. All the internal supports are made from archival, acid-free materials that help preserve the artifacts for as long as possible; so that future generations can learn from and enjoy them.

Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center

Members of the Move Team unpack wool caps and other artifacts from plastic shipping crates in the new storage facilities at the Steven F. Udvar Hazy Center. Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. Photo by Dane Penland.

The wool objects were being stored in the Museum’s facility in Suitland, Maryland. The buildings that make up this facility were constructed as early as the 1950s and were originally designed to house aircraft temporarily, so their use for small object storage was not ideal. The Udvar-Hazy Center’s new storage facility provides secure, climate-controlled storage designed specifically for small and medium-sized artifacts.  Now objects of like material and size can be stored together while not on display or loan. The result of this new storage space is maximized efficiency and benefit to the long-term preservation of these historic artifacts.

wool artifacts

Small wool artifacts, like this canteen used on Lindbergh’s Lockheed Sirius “Tingmissartoq,” are tracked in the Museum’s database using bar code scanning as they are relocated to new storage facilities at the Steven F. Udvar Hazy Center. From left to right, Stephanie Harris, Amelia Kile. Photo by Dane Penland.

As the last deliveries of wool artifacts are being scheduled, we are beginning to pack the remainder of the textiles based on material, including cotton, polyester, and silk. Even when the last small artifact is safely moved, there will be more work to be done. In the new Emil Buehler Conservation Laboratory, treatment is already underway on certain artifacts that have recently arrived. For now, we are enjoying the opportunity to be involved in relocating this unique collection.

Amelia Brakeman Kile is lead move contractor in the Collections Department of the National Air and Space Museum

 

The Curious Story of a Cuban Missile Crisis Artifact

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U-2 Photo

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

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

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

Hycon Model B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Light Table at the CIA

CIA

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

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

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

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

The Light Table Comes to the Museum

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

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

Von Hardesty

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

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

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

Some Reflections on Artifacts

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

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

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

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

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

Preserving and Displaying the “Bat-Wing Ship” – July Update

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This post is a follow up to Preserving and Displaying the “Bat-Wing Ship” published on September 9, 2011.

After preparing hundreds of condition reports last winter on the many artifacts that curators plan to exhibit in the upcoming Time and Navigation gallery opening at the Museum in Washington, DC in April, 2013, while simultaneously helping the Collections Processing Unit move artifacts from the Paul E. Garber Facility to new digs at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia, Museum staff could finally return to work on the center section of the Horten H IX V3 jet fighter, the “Bat-Wing Ship.”  With help from retired treatment specialist Karl Heinzel, Museum conservator Lauren Horelick is determining the best methods to stabilize and protect the center section for movement to the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar at the Udvar-Hazy Center later this year. Lauren carefully mapped the object to establish a baseline of problematic areas and to complete an essential step in recording present damage [Figure 1].

condition map

Figure 1: In-progress condition map showing the types and extent of damage currently seen on the metal components of the center section (Lauren Horelick photo, modified Arthur Bentley drawing published in Shepelev and Ottens, Horten Ho 229, Spirit of Thuringia, 2006).

 

In addition to creating written and photographic documentation of the jet, Lauren is conducting material identification analysis to identify the wood used to make the plywood, the adhesive used to bind the micron-thin layers of the plywood, and the adhesive used to join the large structural members of the wood panels. Her analysis will not only add to the history of the Horten wing, it will also help her craft the best conservation treatment protocol.  Summer interns working with scientists at the Museum Conservation Institute are contributing to the materials identification effort.  We will blog the results at the end of this summer.

We have begun initial effortsto protect the center section during the move to the Restoration Hanger.  These efforts include removing the fragile plywood belly panels so that conservators can treat the wood for long-term stabilization before reattaching it.  To remove the wood panels safely, it was necessary to apply a facing over sections of the wood to prevent loss of material [Figure 2].

horten

Figure 2: Lauren carefully attached a sheet of Reemay, a non-woven spun bonded polyester, to cover a section of fragile and delaminating plywood on the underside of the center section. She used BEVA (Berger’s ethylene vinyl acetate) film, a reversible heat-set adhesive, around the perimeter of the Reemay sheet to hold it in place and stabilize the wood so that the panel can safely be removed for later treatment. Lauren cut the small holes seen in the Reemay to provide access to the bolts securing the panel to the steel tube support frame.

Other conservation efforts include researching adhesives to stabilize the plywood and developing methods to address how to move the center section to the Udvar-Hazy Center.  Lauren is considering a multi-layered envelope system that would enclose the entire center section during travel.

Russ Lee is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum and Lauren Horelick is a conservator in the Collections Division of the National Air and Space Museum.