Pilot Error, Evidently

 

Ivanov

Ivanov's Landing - SI 90-5858

 

In the years before the invention of the flight data recorder, the “black box” that records essential flight data, an aircraft accident investigation could occasionally degenerate into a mere finger-pointing exercise, like this one from Russia during World War I — a group of aviation cadets at the Gatchina Military Flying School near Petrograd (now St. Petersburg) point fingers of scorn at a student pilot identified only as “Ivanov” after his less than perfect landing, fortunately injuring only his dignity. The photograph comes from the collection of Alexander Riaboff (1895-1984) — he’s the finger-pointer at the left — who served in the Russian Army Air Service and was trained at Gatchina. After the Revolution, Riaboff flew in the Red Air Fleet and also with the counterrevolutionary White forces before fleeing in 1920 to Harbin, China. Later, he emigrated with his wife and daughter to the United States and settled in the San Francisco area. Years later, Riaboff wrote up his adventures as a pilot during those tumultuous times, and as edited by National Air and Space Museum curator Von Hardesty, they were published in 1986 as Gatchina Days: Reminiscences of a Russian Pilot.

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

Lion Cubs? Yeah, We’ve Got Lion Cubs, Too.

Ever since our colleagues over at the National Zoo introduced their seven beautiful lion cubs to the public, some of the staff here at the National Air and Space Museum have been feeling a bit envious. Yes, we have priceless historic artifacts like the 1903 Wright Flyer and the Spirit of St. Louis; but lacking a single lion cub or even a panda, we do have something of a cuteness gap – we simply can’t compete with the Zoo when it comes down to Cute.

Roscoe Turner and Gilmore

Roscoe Turner and Gilmore. (80-12371, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

But a sifting of the files in the Museum’s Archives Division actually turned up a respectable number of lion cubs in photographic form. The most famous of them is Gilmore, shown above, posing with his partner Roscoe Turner (1895-1970) on Turner’s Lockheed Air Express 3. Turner was one of the most memorable figures from the Golden Age of flight – winner of the Bendix Trophy and three-time winner of the Thompson Trophy, he was known for his splendid custom-designed uniforms. In 1930, Turner was flying for the Gilmore Oil Company, which used a lion’s head as its trademark.  Thinking that having a real lion might boost publicity, he adopted a 3-week old cub and named him after the company. Little Gilmore was an immediate hit with the public, and with the possible exception of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, Gilmore became the most famous lion of the 1930s.

Gilmore

Gilmore, outfitted in his parachute and harness, with Roscoe Turner. (99-40528, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

But Gilmore was not immediately charmed by the idea of flight. Roscoe told the story of the cub’s first flight:

He was a pretty tired and nervous little cub when it was over. He was all right until we began to take off, but the moment the plane left the ground he made one terrified dive for  Mrs. Turner’s lap and stayed there. It was weeks before he stopped trying to scramble in someone’s lap when we took off…

The Humane Society raised fears of Gilmore’s in-flight safety, so Roscoe had a cub-size parachute and harness made for him. He’s wearing the ‘chute in the photograph above, and…

parachute harness

Gilmore's parachute and harness

… Gilmore’s parachute and harness are on display at the Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center. Gilmore quickly became a confident flyer, logging over 25,000 miles in the air and working the stick with Roscoe’s assistance, but in turbulent weather, he would still curl up in Roscoe’s lap. But it wasn’t long…

Gilmore

Roscoe Turner with Gilmore, full-grown. (78-13936, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

… Before Gilmore grew too large for Roscoe’s lap. He was grounded, retiring first to the Turner home in Beverly Hills, and finally ending his days in a California wildlife park, with Roscoe footing his hefty food bills. “For a long time he paid my bills; now it’s my turn,” Roscoe said.

Gilmore

Gilmore

Gilmore died in 1952 at the age of 22. When Roscoe Turner died in 1970, he left Gilmore to the National Air and Space Museum. Turner’s Boeing 247-D is exhibited in the National Mall Building, and his RT-14 Meteor racer can be seen at the Udvar-Hazy Center. As for Gilmore, he’s currently in storage at the Museum’s Paul E. Garber Facility.

Whiskey and Soda

From left to right: Soda, Douglas MacMonagle, Raoul Lufbery and Whiskey. (2006-21463, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

The pilots of the Lafayette Escadrille – Americans flying for the French air service – had a pretty good selection of mascots – dogs, cats, Esther the civet cat, and a fox. But the most famous of the Escadrille’s mascots were the lion cubs Whiskey and Soda – that’s Whiskey, above, gnawing on the ace Raoul Lufbery as Soda and pilot Douglas MacMonagle watch. Whiskey was “… a cute, bright-eyed baby who tried to roar in a most ferocious manner, but who was blissfully content the moment one gave him a finger to suck.” Unfortunately, Whiskey later made the mistake of eating the Escadrille’s commander’s expensive new uniform cap, and the lions were exiled to the Paris Zoo. But they’re commemorated on the Lafayette Escadrille Memorial at Villeneuve l’Etang near Paris with life-sized sculptures.

Henry Tyndall Merrill

Henry Tyndall "Dick" Merrill and Princess Doreen. (7B06596, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

Henry Tyndall “Dick” Merrill (1894 – 1982) and Princess Doreen peer from the cockpit of Merrill’s mail plane. Merrill started as a barnstormer, flying a war surplus Curtiss JN-4 Jenny, He later became an air mail pilot, and later still he  “flew the Hump” as a civilian pilot during World War II, and serving as Eastern Air Lines ‘ senior pilot for many years. Merrill spent much of his time on the ground at racetracks, and he named Princess Doreen after a favorite horse.

lion cub mascot

Mascot belonging to Luftwaffe bomber group Kampfgeschwader 76. (74-3126, National Air and Space Museum Archives)

One more lion cub appears in our files – a mascot belonging to Luftwaffe bomber group Kampfgeschwader 76. The group’s motto, Ran an’ n Speck, means “Let’s get the bacon”; possibly the equivalent to our “let’s pig out”. Whatever it means, Smithsonian visitors now know that the National Zoo doesn’t have a corner of cuddly lion cubs – we’ve got the cute, too. If only we had a couple of air and space-related panda photos in the files, too…

Allan Janus is a museum specialist for the Museum’s Archives Division, and is the author of Animals Aloft.

Update: It turns out that we do have a couple of panda photographs in the files – thanks to Dr. Don Moore of the National Zoo for reminding us of the specially emblazoned FedEx Boeing 777 Panda Express which flew the Zoo’s four and a half year old panda Tai Shan to China back in February.

FedEx "Panda Express." Photograph by Dane Penland, National Air and Space Museum.

Eugene J. Bullard

October 12, 2010, marks the forty-ninth anniversary of the death of Eugene Jacques Bullard at the age of 67. Bullard is considered to be the first African-American military pilot to fly in combat, and the only African-American pilot in World War I. Ironically, he never flew for the United States.

Born October 9, 1895, in Columbus, Georgia, to William Bullard, a former slave, and Josephine Bullard, Eugene’s early youth was unhappy. He made several unsuccessful attempts to run away from home, one of which resulted in his being returned home and beaten by his father.

In 1906, at the age of 11, Bullard ran away for good, and for the next six years, he wandered the South in search of freedom. In 1912 he stowed away on the Marta Russ, a German freighter bound for Hamburg, and ended up in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there  he made his way to London, where he  worked as a boxer and slapstick performer in Belle Davis’s Freedman Pickaninnies, an African American entertainment troupe. In 1913, Bullard went to France for a boxing match. Settling in Paris, he became so comfortable with French customs that he decided to make a home there. He later wrote, “… it seemed to me that French democracy influenced the minds of both black and white Americans there and helped us all act like brothers.”

After World War I had begun in the summer of 1914, Bullard enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. While serving with the 170th Infantry Regiment, Bullard fought in the  the Battle of Verdun (February to December 1916), where he was wounded seriously. He was taken from the battlefield and sent to Lyon to recuperate. While on leave in Paris, Bullard bet a friend $2,000 that despite his color he could enlist in the French flying service. Bullard’s determination paid off, and in November 1916 he entered the Aéronautique Militaire.

Eugene Bullard

Eugene Bullard

Bullard began flight training at Tours in 1916 and received his wings in May 1917. He was first assigned to Escadrille Spa 93, and then to Escadrille Spa 85 in September 1917, where he remained until he left the Aéronautique Militaire. In November 1917, Bullard claimed two aerial victories, a Fokker Triplane and a Pfalz D.III, but neither could be confirmed. (Some accounts say that one victory was confirmed.) During his flying days, Bullard is said to have had an insignia on his Spad 7 C.1 that portrayed a heart with a dagger running through it and the slogan “All Blood Runs Red.”  Reportedly, Bullard flew with a mascot, a Rhesus Monkey named “Jimmy.”

Eugene Bullard

Eugene Bullard with his Rhesus monkey, Jimmy

After the United States entered the war in 1917, Bullard attempted to join the U.S. Air Service, but he was not accepted, ostensibly because he was an enlisted man, and the Air Service required pilots to be officers and hold at least the rank of First Lieutenant. In actuality, he was rejected because of the racial prejudice that existed in the American military during that time. Bullard returned to the Aéronautique Militaire, but he was summarily removed after an apparent confrontation with a French officer. He returned to the 170th Infantry Regiment until his discharge in October 1919.

After the war Bullard remained in France, where he worked in a nightclub called Zelli’s in the Montmartre district of Paris, owned a nightclub (Le Grand Duc) and an American-style bar (L’Escadrille), operated an athletic club, and married a French woman, Marcelle de Straumann. During this time Bullard rubbed elbows with notables like Langston Hughes, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Josephine Baker.

By the late 1930s, however, the clouds of war began to change Bullard’s life dramatically. Even before World War II officially began in 1939, Bullard became involved in espionage activities against French fifth columnists who supported the Nazis. When war came he enlisted as a machine gunner in the 51st Infantry Regiment, and was severely wounded by an exploding artillery shell.  Fearing capture by the Nazis, he made his way to Spain, Portugal, and eventually the United States, settling in the Harlem district of New York City.

After his arrival in New York, Bullard worked as a security guard and longshoreman. In the post-World War II years, Bullard took up the cause of civil rights. In the summer of 1949, he was involved in an altercation with the police and a racist mob at a Paul Robeson concert in Peekskill, New York, in which he was beaten by police. Another incident involved a bus driver who ordered Bullard to sit the back of his bus. These events left Bullard deeply disillusioned with the United States, and he returned to France, but was unable to resume his former life there.

During his lifetime, the French showered Bullard with honors, and in 1954, he was one of three men chosen to relight the everlasting flame at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Paris. In October 1959 he was made a knight of the Legion of Honor, the highest ranking order and decoration bestowed by France. It was the fifteenth decoration given to him by the French government.

In the epilogue to his well-researched book, Eugene Bullard, Black Expatriate in Jazz-Age Paris (Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 2000), Craig Lloyd points out the poignancy of Bullard’s situation in the United States: “The contrast between Eugene Bullard’s unrewarding years of toil and trouble early and late in life in the United States and his quarter-century of much-heralded achievement in France illustrates dramatically … the crippling disabilities imposed on the descendants of Americans of African ancestry … .”

In 1992, the McDonnell Douglas Corporation donated to the National Air and Space Museum a bronze portrait head of Bullard, created by Eddie Dixon, an African American sculptor. This work is displayed in the museum’s Legend, Memory and the Great War in the Air gallery.

Eugene Bullard

Bronze sculpture of Eugene Jacques Bullard, currently on view at the National Mall Building

Postscript:

On September 14, 1994, Bullard was posthumously commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force. A display case in the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force in Dayton, Ohio, honors him.

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