Blimp!

The newest arrival in the National Air and Space Museum’s inventory of historic aircraft is the C-49 airship control car. Produced by Goodyear Tire and Rubber, it first took to the air as the pressure airship  Enterprise (NC-16A) on August 23, 1934. The craft operated in the Washington, D.C. and New York metropolitan areas until November 1941, when it was flown back to Wingfoot Lake, Akron, Ohio to serve as a training craft. Early in WW II it patrolled northern Ohio checking on compliance with blackout regulations.

 

good year

The Goodyear blimp Columbia N4A, utilizing the C-49 car launches from the Marine Corps Air Station , Tustin, Ca. circa 1978.

Acquired by the US Navy in 1942, the craft was shipped to Moffett Field, California. Re-designated L-5 it spent most of the war as a training craft but saw some patrol duty. Re-acquired by Goodyear on January 24, 1946, the control car was rebuilt to operate with the new GZ-20 class commercial blimps in 1969 and registered as N4A on May 12, 1970. It was back in the air once again as the airship Columbia IV in July 1975, and remained in service for over a decade, logging thousands of hours of passenger flights, night sign messaging, and corporate service.

Black Sunday

Black Sunday

The control car saw duty over the 1977, 1980, 1983, and 1985 Super Bowls; the 1981 and 1984 World Series; Rose Bowl games and parades; and the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. It starred in the Hollywood thriller Black Sunday (1977) and made appearances in several other films. C-49 spans much of the history of the pressure airship in America and represents the wide range of military and commercial roles played by blimps. The car was permanently retired in 1986 and made its final journey to the Smithsonian in November 2011.

The arrival of this historic control car provides an excuse to offer some thoughts on the etymology of the word “blimp.” First, some basic definitions. All Zeppelins are dirigibles, but not all dirigibles are Zeppelins. A dirigible is any powered lighter-than-air craft capable of maneuvering. For the linguistically fastidious, a Zeppelin is a rigid airship manufactured by the Zeppelin Company, or by Goodyear-Zeppelin, the American firm that produced the two great U.S. naval airships,  ZRS-4, USS Akron (1931-1933), and ZRS-5, USS  Macon (1933-1935).

Rigid airships have internal frameworks of metal or wood that gives the craft its shape. The lifting gas, hydrogen or helium, is contained in large gas cells inside the framework. Non-rigid airships, or pressure airships, maintain their shape only because the pressure inside the envelope, or gas bag, is slightly higher than the external air pressure. Let the lifting gas out and the envelope is an empty bag lying on the ground.

Pressure airships are commonly known as blimps. The origin of that term has caused a good many arguments. One story relates to an English officer, Lt. A.D. Cunningham, RN,  who entered a hangar containing a pressure airship in 1915. He was unable to resist plunking his finger on the gas bag, which produced the sound “blimp.” By noon that day his mess mates were applying the word to their gas bags. Another accounts claims that Horace Short, the famous British aircraft builder, took one look at an early Sea Scout airship, with a B.E.2C airplane fuselage hanging beneath a gas bag, and immediately dubbed the thing a blimp, commenting, “What else would you call it?”

Whatever the origin of the name, blimps have been delighting us since the late 19th century. C-49, one of the longest-lived of all Goodyear airships, will proudly represent her kind for generations to come at the Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center.

 

C-49

Goodyear C-49 airship control car

 

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

Following the Hindenburg

Hindenburg Poster

Hindenburg poster by Jupp Wiertz

The superlatives tend to pile up pretty quickly when it comes to the rigid airship Hindenburg, the pride of the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei line. It was the longest aircraft of any type at 245 meters (803 feet). Its 16 gas cells held up to 200,000 cubic meters (7,062,900 cubic feet) of hydrogen gas. Four 1050 hp Daimler-Benz DB 602 diesel motors sped the mighty airship along at speeds up to 135km/h (85 mph) with a maximum range of 14,000km (8,700 miles). Up to 70 passengers traveled in unrivaled luxury, served by a crew of from 40 to 72; gourmet meals (although the final meal served on board was a bit sketchy); comfortable (though small) cabins with running water; and a smoking lounge, where one could enjoy a Hindenburg Cocktail or two. And, of course, the famous Blüthner aluminum piano, covered in pigskin, for the passengers’ pleasure. Think of that, the next time you’re stuffed into a tiny airline seat and stuck on a runway for a couple of hours.

Hindenburg Baggage Label

American Airlines-Hindenburg baggage label

It’s a shame, though, that the Hindenburg is remembered today primarily for its tragic final flight.  On May 6, 1937, it arrived at its American terminus, the Lakehurst Naval Air Station, at the end of the first flight of the 1937 season. Vented hydrogen ignited (although there are many other theories), and the mighty airship crashed and burned. There were 36 passengers and 61 crew on board; 13 passengers and 22 crew died, as did one member of the ground crew. But it wasn’t history’s worst airship disaster; the US Navy’s USS Akron lost 73 of its crew of 76 when it crashed off the New Jersey coast on April 4, 1933. What we remember, though, are the horrifying photographs of the Hindenburg engulfed in flames, and the breathless narration of the disaster by Herb Morrison, a reporter for the Chicago radio station WLS. But there are happier stories concerning the Hindenburg.

Hindenburg Ticket

Garland Fulton’s ticket for the October 9, 1936 “Millionaires’ Flight”

On October 9, 1936, the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei and the Standard Oil Company invited a party of influential businessmen, politicians, and military men aboard the Hindenburg for a ten-hour flight over the fall foliage of New England. Dubbed “The Millionaires’ Flight,” its passengers included heavy hitters like Juan Trippe of Pan American and the ace Eddie Rickenbacker, who headed Eastern Airlines at the time. Also among the passengers was Commander Garland Fulton, U.S. Navy, chief of the Lighter than Air Section of the Navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics. That’s his ticket for the flight, shown above, preserved among his papers, which are held by the Museum’s Archives Division. As the VIPs enjoyed a superb luncheon, far below on the ground in the wilds of Connecticut, a little girl was about to have the experience of a lifetime. The little girl, who grew up to become an author and opera translator and a dear friend, was Anne “Cookie” Chotzinoff Grossman. Here’s her account, as published in Robert Hedin’s The Zeppelin Reader:

In September or October of 1936, I was six years old, at school in Ridgefield, Connecticut, in those days a small, exceedingly rural town. I was a shy little girl, always trailing behind my 10-year-old brother Blair. One day we were outside during the lunch recess, when a shadow crossed the schoolyard. We all looked up; something huge was floating by. Blair said excitedly, “Hey, that’s the Hindenburg! Let’s follow it!” I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about or what a Hindenburg was, but whenever Blair said “follow”, I followed; so I ran behind him and his friends, trying hard to keep up. We ran across fields and brooks and over stone walls, trying to keep the airship in sight. Blair finally admitted defeat – the Hindenburg was faster than we were – and we made our way back to the school, very late and very dirty, to face angry teachers. I don’t remember what Blair’s punishment was, but I was made to stand at the blackboard and write “I will not follow the Hindenburg” 100 times.

That’s the way I prefer to remember the airship Hindenburg: sailing through a crisp autumn day over New England, with a gang of school kids in hot pursuit…

Hindenburg Model

Model of the Hindenburg on display in the National Mall Building.

There are Hindenburg artifacts to see at the Museum. For instance, the  stupendous model of the airship (shown above), used in the 1975 Universal film The Hindenburg starring George C. Scott and Anne Bancroft, which hovers over the entrance to the store in the National Mall Building.

The Bucker Bu-133C Jungmeister

The Bucker Bu-133C Jungmeister at the Udvar-Hazy Center

We even have an actual Hindenburg passenger on display at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center – the Museum’s Bücker Bü-133C Jungmeister was shipped to the United States in August 1936 on the Hindenburg by its owner, the Romanian aerobatic pilot Alexandru Papană for the Cleveland Air Races.

Hindenburg cup and saucer

Photograph by Dane Penland

Also at the Udvar-Hazy Center, in the Lighter than Air exhibit case, is a fragment of one of Hindenburg’s aluminum girders, a ladder, a fragment of the airship’s doped fabric, and, shown above, a cup and a saucer, possibly used on the Millionaires’ Flight, survivors of the Hindenburg’s final flight, but smudged by the smoke and flames that signaled the end of passenger airship travel.

Film of the Hindenburg in flight, and the destruction of the airship at Lakehurst, May 6, 1937. National Air and Space Museum Archives Division film VB 01246.

Allan Janus is a museum specialist in the Museum’s Archives Division.