And Now, the Easter Balloon Bunny

 

Easter Bunny

Best Easter Wishes, 1911 - Krainik Ballooning Collection, NASM 7A 47278

 

In the early years of the 20th century, one of the ways that enthusiasm for all things aeronautical found expression were in colorful chromolithographic postcards, like this Easter postcard featuring an intrepid, though slightly nervous-looking, rabbit who takes to the sky onboard a festive aerial egg balloon. The card was mailed to one Elinora in Frederick, Maryland by her cousin Louisa in April, 1911. Yes, a lighter-than-air bunny may be a little unlikely, but surely no more than a turkey piloting a biplane.

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

 

Collecting Popular Culture

From April 20 to April 23, curators from the Aeronautics Division and the Space History Division attended the 2011 National Conference of the Popular Culture Association/American Culture Association (PCA/ACA) in San Antonio, Texas. Tom Crouch of the Aeronautics Division organized a session on museum collecting and collectors titled “Collecting the Popular Culture of Flight at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum,” and the participants presented papers on collections that we curate. Tom spoke about the Balloonomania Collection of balloon-related furniture and furnishings; Alex Spencer of the Aeronautics Division talked about the Mother Tusch Collection, which contains many significant personal artifacts of military aviation; Margaret Weitekamp of the Space History Division discussed the O’Harro Collection of space memorabilia and popular culture; and I talked about the Stanley King Collection of Lindbergh memorabilia and popular culture.

 

Balloonomania

This colorful early 19th-century ceramic plate, part of the Museum's Balloonomania Collection, depicts the 1804 ascension in Paris of Joseph Louis Gay-Lussac and Jean-Baptiste Biot in an early scientific investigation of the Earth’s atmosphere.

This PCA/ACA meeting was one of the largest academic conferences I had ever attended, and a far cry from the small, homey gatherings of the organization I went to in the mid to late 1980s in Charleston and St. Louis. The 2011 meeting sessions usually began at 8:00 am and went on until very late in the evening every day, occupied conference rooms in two major San Antonio hotels, and covered a wealth of areas from “Adaptation (Film, TV, Literature & Electronic Gaming)” to “World War I & II.” In between were panels on such things as “Fat Studies,” “Grateful Dead,” the “Vampire in Literature,” and the perhaps more prosaic “Visual Arts in the West.” Our session fell into the “Collecting and Collectibles” area.

PCA began in the early 1970s as a reaction to what was perceived to be the elitism of the American Studies Association in favor of traditional American literature, and its disregard for new forms of expression such as material culture, popular music, movies, and comics. In 1979, the PCA began to partner with the American Culture Association and sponsored the first PCA/ACA Conference at Michigan State University. A number of people were involved in the formation of PCA/ACA, but Professors Ray Browne of Bowling Green State University and Russell Nye of Michigan State were the primary movers and shakers for the idea that popular culture deserved academic recognition as a topic of study. The PCA/ACA now has seven regional organizations, and is affiliated with four international popular culture organizations in Australia/New Zealand, East Asia, Canada, and Europe. Both organizations publish journals: The Journal of Popular Culture and The Journal of American Culture.

In museum circles, popular culture suffered the same fate as it did in academia. It was caught up in the “high culture” versus “low culture” debate, originated by literary critic Dwight Macdonald and others, in which high culture—classical art and literature, classical music, ballet, theater, etc.—was thought to be more worth considering than low culture—popular literature, movies, popular music, comics, etc. At the Smithsonian’s Museum of History and Technology (the predecessor of the Museum of American History), the story is told of how many curators were not in favor of collecting American political memorabilia because they considered it “junk.” I dare say this was true in other Smithsonian museums, including the National Air and Space Museum. Ironically, the Museum had been collecting “popular culture” for years, but calling it something else. In 1974, for example, the Museum accepted a donation from Paramount Pictures of the original Starship Enterprise model from the television program Star Trek. In the 1990s, the Museum did two major popular culture exhibitions, Star Trek (1992), and Star Wars: The Magic of Myth (1997), which were immensely well-liked and full of intellectual content, but looked on somewhat disapprovingly in some quarters of the Museum. But just as academic fashion changes over time, so did museum consideration of popular culture as a worthy topic of collecting, research, and exhibition. Now Margaret Weitekamp holds a curatorial title that indicates she is responsible for collecting social and cultural artifacts; i.e., popular culture.

 

Starship Enterprise Model

This 3.4 meter (11-foot) model of the fictional Starship "Enterprise" from the weekly television series "Star Trek" was donated to the National Air and Space Museum in 1974 by Paramount Pictures. To illustrate how popular culture can often impinge on real life, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) was persuaded by a write-in campaign to change the name of the spaces shuttle full-scale test vehicle on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center from "Constitution" to "Enterprise."

Although even the PCA/ACA disputes the definition of the term, preferring to create subject areas of academic interest, I do think there is some agreement that popular culture is influenced by industries that disseminate cultural material, for example, the film, television, and publishing industries, as well as the news media. It could even be described as not merely a cumulative product of those industries, but the result of a continuing interaction between them and the people of the society that consume the products. Popular culture is also a way to approach American consumer culture; i.e., the culture that surrounds American commerce, esp. advertising, marketing, merchandising, and the media, and its influence on American society. But even such definitions do not go far enough in my estimation.

However one wants to define it, there are a number of ways to rationalize collecting popular culture in a museum. In the case of the Stanley King Collection, the objects are a way of understanding the consumer tastes of Americans and to making sense of the idea of celebrity. The King Collection also tells us how dominant cultural images like aviation and personalities like Charles A. Lindbergh were used to sell all manner of goods. Lindbergh endorsed very few products, and those were related directly to aviation. Either he didn’t know or didn’t care that someone was making money from his celebrity. In our era, however, celebrities tend to keep a tight rein on their images or “brand,” and infringement is likely to prompt a lawsuit. Nevertheless, a good deal of popular culture merchandise that is unlicensed and unauthorized manages to find its way to the market place.

 

"Spirit of St. Louis" Toys

Four objects from the Stanley King Collection. Clockwise from bottom left: metal roll toy likeness of the "Spirit of St. Louis" with figure; windup metal toy "Spirit" with a New York-Paris map on wing; glass candy container in the shape of an airplane; puzzle game that depicts the flight paths of Lindbergh and his competitors for the Orteig Prize—Richard Byrd and Clarence Chamberlin.

The O’Harro Collection is somewhat different from the King Collection, even though it too consists of commercially-produced materials. Jules Verne’s De La Terra á la Lune (From the Earth to the Moon) is said to have stirred visionaries of modern rocketry like Tsiolkovski, Oberth, and Goddard. Similarly, space science fiction heroes of the 1930s, represented in the O’Harro Collection by Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, stimulated American youth, and provided a glimpse at how space travel was imagined in the days before we had the technology to explore the Moon and distant planets. For a later era, the popular culture of the Star Trek television series (1966 to 1969) and the Star Wars trilogy (1977, 1980, 1983) indicates that space science fiction capitalized on the public interest in space travel prompted by the advent of the U.S. space program and the 1969 landing on the Moon.

 

Ray Guns

Four toy ray guns from the Museum's space popular culture collection illustrate how varied the colors, shapes, and designs of imagined space toys can be.

The Balloonomania Collection and the Mother Tusch Collection are rather different from the consumer-oriented popular culture of the King and O’Harro collections. The Balloonomania Collection of 18th century furniture and furnishings was in a sense both a popular and preindustrial commercial response to the advent of balloon flight, and the first glimpse of the Earth from above the planet. The Mother Tusch Collection represents the personal crusade of a woman who thought of herself as a mother image to hundreds of military aviators during and after World War I, and of the pilots’ response in giving her personal items in gratitude for her many kindnesses.

 

Mother Tusch

Mary E. “Mother” Tusch is shown here shortly before her collection was sent to Washington in 1947. She is surrounded by the aviation memorabilia that she avidly collected, especially the personal items given to her by the many military pilots who trained at the U.S. School of Military Aeronautics at the University of California at Berkeley campus during WWI. These objects, now in the Museum's collection, were meant to show the aviators’ gratitude for her maternal concern for them, hence the name “Mother” Tusch.

Further historical investigation of commercially-produced popular culture is necessary before we have a complete picture. Some questions to consider: who are the manufacturers of these products? Is there a relationship between the poplar objects of aviation and spaceflight and other collectibles that represent a dominant cultural image? Were these items advertised, if so, how were they advertised? What were the conditions of the workers who produced these items? Are these or similar types of materials being manufactured today?

The Museum does not have a collections fund to purchase items like these, which are likely to be found in the hands of collectors. Thus, subsequent acquisition of popular culture objects depends largely on the generosity of people like Michael O’Harro and Stanley King. Both curatorial divisions, however, have clearly-articulated collecting plans that specify what types of popular culture the Museum wishes to collect. The Aeronautics Division, for example, is especially interested in obtaining consumer items such as toys, games, household furnishings, apparel, and other collectibles that relate to aviation, especially for the interwar years, World War II, and the 1950s, and of more recent vintage, toys like action figures of pilots from the Vietnam War era to the present day, dolls or action figures that represent women in aviation, and electronic media like arcade games and flight simulation games for personal computers. The Space History Division is especially interested in acquiring scarce or rare items from early space science fiction, toys, games, lunch boxes, and other collectibles, electronic media like arcade games, computer games, and console games, and cultural objects from the early Project Mercury/Gemini/Apollo eras.

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

 

The Long, Lonely Leap

August 16, 2010 will mark the 50th anniversary of one of the most memorable aeronautical moments of my adolescence. I can still remember seeing the cover of Life magazine for August 29, 1960 on the newsstand in Medway, Ohio. There was this small figure, clad in a green pressure suit and white helmet, falling toward the sold cloud deck, almost 32 km (20 miles) below. It was one of those images that takes your breath away.

Capt. Joseph W. Kittinger began his “long, lonely leap” by taking a single step out of the open gondola of his Excelsior III balloon drifting 31,333 meters (102, 800 feet) over New Mexico. Trailing a stabilizing drogue chute, he fell from the top of the atmosphere for 4 minutes, 37 seconds, until his main parachute opened at 5,334 meters (17,500 feet). In the thin upper atmosphere near the beginning of his free-fall, he was traveling at over 965 km (600 miles) per hour. As he dropped into the denser atmosphere near 15,240 meters (50,000 feet), his speed slowed to a mere 420 km (250 miles) per hour.

Kittinger

On Aug. 16, 1960, Kittinger stepped from a balloon-supported gondola at the altitude of 31,333 meters (102,800 feet). In freefall for 4.5 minutes at speeds up to 614 mph and temperatures as low as -94 degrees Fahrenheit, he opened his parachute at 5,334 meters (17,500 feet). (U.S. Air Force photo)

“There is a hostile sky above me,” he told ground controllers before the jump. “Man will never conquer space. He may live in it, but he will never conquer it. The sky above is void and very black, and very hostile.” If his pressure suit failed at this altitude, he would lose consciousness within 12 seconds and be dead in two minutes. As it was, he suffered a painfully swollen hand when one of his gloves failed during the jump. Eight minutes after his main parachute opened, he was back on solid ground in the White Sands Missile Range, having set three world records: the highest ascent in an open gondola, the longest free fall, and the longest parachute descent. Fifty years later, no one has ever jumped from a higher altitude.

That moment, while memorable, was only one episode in a long and heroic career. Born on July 27, 1928, Joe Kittinger grew up near Orlando, Florida. He came to aviation via a familiar path that began with a flight aboard a Ford Trimotor with his father, followed by a few years of intensive model aircraft building, culminating in hours spent learning to fly a Piper Cub owned by a returning veteran. After two years at the University of Florida, he enlisted in the USAF and received his wings and second lieutenant’s bars at Las Vegas, Nevada in March 1950.

While on his first flying assignment in Germany, Kittinger was accepted as a test pilot flying F-84G fighters for NATO. That experience led to his next assignment: a team led by Col. John Paul Stapp at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and the Aero Medical Field Laboratory, Holloman AFB, New Mexico, investigating new techniques and equipment designed for use in high altitude, high speed aircraft. Kittinger tested a variety of partial pressure suits, “flew” to altitudes of over 30,480 meters (100,000 feet) in pressure chambers, and served as a test subject for experiments involving his reaction to everything from claustrophobia to extreme temperatures.

Ironically, the balloon, the oldest type of flying craft, was also the natural choice to carry instruments and test pilots to extreme altitudes. During the first flight of Project Man High, on June 2, 1957, Kittinger reached an altitude of 29,260 meters (96,000 feet) in a 3-by-7 foot sealed gondola dangling beneath an enormous helium-filled balloon made of plastic film only two-thousandths of an inch thick.

Joe Kittinger

Joseph Kittinger next to the Excelsior gondola on June 2, 1957

His next assignment was as test director for Project Excelsior, which would test the equipment and techniques that would enable a pilot to parachute from extreme altitudes and survive.  He made his first high altitude parachute jump from an Excelsior balloon at an altitude of 23,286 meters (76,400 feet) in November 1959. It nearly became his last when the shroud lines of a small stabilizing parachute wrapped around his neck. He was able to free himself when his emergency parachute opened at 3,657 meters (12,000 feet). Three weeks later he made a jump from 23,286 meters (74,000 feet) without incident. Then came the unforgettable jump from 31,333 meters (102, 800 feet). For his contributions to the Excelsior program, President Eisenhower awarded Kittinger the Harmon International Trophy for ballooning achievements.

Kittinger spent another two years conducting high altitude balloon research with the Stargazer project, which carried astronomers to high altitudes, before embarking on the first of his three combat tours in Vietnam. His first two tours were with the Air Commandos, flying Douglas A-26 attack aircraft. During his final tour as vice-commander of a fighter wing operating the F-4D Phantom II, he scored a victory over a MiG-21. On May 11, 1972, just four days before the end of his third tour, Kittinger was shot down and spent the next 11 months as a prisoner of war.

Retiring as a colonel in 1978, Joe Kittinger most certainly did not retire from flying. Returning to his native Florida, he flew balloons and antique biplanes for his own air show, Rosie O’Grady’s Flying Circus. He began entering, and winning, gas balloon races and events in 1982, and quickly emerged as a major international competitor. He won the re-established U.S. James Gordon Bennett Balloon Race four times — 1982, 1984, 1985, and 1988, retiring the Cup. Kittinger set a world record for the longest distance flown in a 1,000 cubic meter (35,300 cubic foot) balloon, traveling 3,220 km (2,001 miles) from Las Vegas, Nevada to Franklinville, New York in 72 hours. He combined another world record for the longest distance flown with a 3,000 cubic meter (105,944 cubic foot) balloon with the first solo balloon flight across the Atlantic, traveling 5,701 km (3,543 miles) from Caribou, Maine to Montenotte, Italy, in 86 hours.

Joseph Kittinger has enjoyed an extraordinary career. His decorations include the Silver Star with Oak Leaf Cluster; Legion of Merit with Oak Leaf Cluster; the Distinguished Flying Cross with five Oak Leaf Clusters; a Bronze Star with “V” device and two Oak Leaf Clusters; the Harmon International Trophy; and two Montgolfier Diplomas for achievement in the air. He has logged over 11,000 hours of flight time in 62 different aircraft types. I was especially pleased when the National Air and Space Museum honored him with the Museum’s Trophy for lifetime achievement in 2008. Aerospace pioneer, test pilot, combat aviator, and record-holding sport pilot, Joseph W. Kittinger, Jr., is a genuine American hero.

Crouch and Kittinger

Senior Curator in the Aeronautics Division, Tom Crouch (left) and Joseph Kittinger (right) at the National Air and Space Museum's Trophy Award Ceremony.

Tom D. Crouch is the senior curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum.