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Feature Article
Imagination is what moves us by Jeff Miller When you think about it, our history of mechanized transportation didn't start with the invention of the wheel…it started with imagination; the imagination of a few special people who somehow saw the ordinary in extraordinary ways. Out of dreams of moving faster than a cheetah, soaring higher than an eagle, or seeing what lay beyond the ocean's distant horizon came imaginative ways of achieving those dreams. Soon, even those lofty visions were eclipsed as we collectively reached for the stars...and obtained them. What's caused such philosophical thoughts here at EnCompass? Two special events: The 100th anniversary of Orville Wright piloting a contraption of wood, wires and dreams off the ground for a mere 120 feet in 12 seconds; and the opening of a major new Smithsonian exhibit that traces the history of transportation in America. Such monumental events deserve special treatment. As a celebratory nod to them — and to the creative spirit within all of us — we've compiled an interesting assortment of articles and personal reminiscences. It is our hope that this special transportation section will not only be a good read, but will also capture something very important — your imagination. History of transportation is Smithsonian's newest exhibit by David Wilkening Wearing a hardhat, Steven Lubar walks past massive locomotives and 10-ton rail cars sitting motionless under giant plastic covers as dozens of busy workmen scurry about. He's leading a group of visitors through a Smithsonian Museum of American History exhibition hall, sidestepping construction to give them a preview of a project unlike any the venerable historic archive in Washington, D.C., has ever undertaken. A tall, thin and bearded academic and author who has a doctorate from the University of Chicago, Lubar is not much for hyperbole. But he's clearly excited about this unprecedented venture — "America on the Move" — for which he is project director. "The history of transportation is critical to the entire American experience. In America on the Move, we'll explore our nation's history by demonstrating how transportation has impacted where we live, how we work and even how we play," he said. To accomplish this, the Smithsonian is combining many of the items from its existing displays with high-tech multimedia exhibits to trace, explain and dramatize the critical role transportation has historically played in American life — a role that often is taken for granted. The exhibit opens to the public Nov. 22 and will be on display for two decades. General Motors is the lead sponsor, and AAA is among a small group of major backers of the exhibit, which is expected to cost $28 million. Lubar said visitors will leave the museum with a new understanding of transportation's influence on the nation's growth and development while gaining a renewed appreciation for the overall Smithsonian collection. A seemingly ordinary 1903 Winton motor car, for example, has enormous historical value. Horatio Nelson Jackson and Sewall Crocker drove it on a road-less 64-day adventure that was the first documented cross-country car trek in the United States (EnCompass, Sept./Oct.). Accompanying artifacts will illustrate how the automobile helped transform America's communities. Large trains and trucks and even commuter trains are among the 300 exhibits/objects on display. A highlight is the virtual ride on America's most famous highway — Route 66. Roughly 90,000 pounds of concrete from Oklahoma's original Route 66 was shipped to the Smithsonian to build a 40-foot-long version of the famous highway. "We've always been good at displaying large objects — such as trains and trucks." Lubar said. "But rather than just tell a story of technological change, we are going to take people back in time, to see and touch history and to experience what travel was really like in the past." Wilkening is a freelance writer based in Orlando, Fla. 100 years later, Kitty Hawk retains sense of time and place by Jeff Miller Even with all the tourists wandering around, there is still a sense of wind-swept isolation about the famous spot in North Carolina where the Wright brothers made their historic first flight on Dec. 17, 1903. Today, the only manmade structures are a visitor center, a monument atop Kill Devil Hill and two reconstructed camp buildings that were used for sleeping quarters and a workshop. The rest of the Wright Brothers National Memorial is comprised simply of hard-packed sand, prickly pears, other low-lying shrubs and plenty of wind. The Wright brothers chose this spot because it provided high dunes for glider takeoffs, nearly constant wind, sand for soft landings and isolation from prying eyes. Today, it's surprisingly easy to sense what the area must have been like back in the early 1900s. Walking on the narrow paths between the structures, or following the markers of the first flight, visitors feel the wind, smell the nearby saltwater and somehow sense the history that hangs in the air like a gliding bird in flight. Climbing to the top of Kill Devil Hill, people do come face-to-face with the inspiring 60-foot gray granite monument in the shape of a plane's tail section, but a simple turn of the head removes the monument from sight and brings into focus the barren landscape below that is little changed since the Wright brothers. In the modest one-room visitor center, replicas of a Wright glider and the first Wright Flyer give a sense of proportion and the sheer frailty of the "machines." Nearby, a reproduction of the tablebox wind tunnel the brothers created to test their theories is fascinating and truly ingenious. Lining the room's walls are portraits of important aviators. Whatever happened to the original Wright Flyer? The historic plane actually flew three more times on that monumental day in 1903. After the fourth and final flight, Further information:An elaborate First Flight Centennial Celebration takes place at the Wright Brothers National Memorial, Dec. 12-17. For details of the celebration, contact Wright Brothers National Memorial, 1401 National Park Dr., Manteo, NC 27954; 252-441-7430, www.nps.gov/wrbr/; www.firstflightcentennial.org. AAA Connection: AAA Colo- rado members can save $17 off Smithsonian National Associate memberships, a 10 percent discount at the Main Street Café at the National Museum of American History and a buy-one, get half-off-on-the-second deal for tickets to the National Air and Space Museum simulator. Fascinating Factoid: The first five pilot licenses issued in America: 1. Glenn Curtiss; 2. Frank Lahm; 3. Louis Paulhan; 4. Orville Wright; 5. Wilbur Wright. Why in that order? With so few fliers when licensing began, the order was established alphabetically. Colorado Connection: A Magnificent Man in his Flying Machine by Jeff Miller Flying used to be magical. There was a time when "aeroplanes" were fragile toys made of wood, wire, canvas and prayers. Aviators were heroic daredevils, birdmen and barnstormers. And just as with magic, people who didn't actually see man and machine fly didn't really believe it was possible. In Colorado, skepticism ran especially high —many felt the new fangled machines couldn't handle Denver's mile-high altitude. In the summer of 1909, the Denver Post offered prizes totaling $10,000 for the first demonstration of a mechanically propelled flight in Colorado. To win, a plane had to carry a passenger, fuel for a trip of no less than 125 miles, and be able to reach a speed of at least 40 miles per hour. The contest, which had a six-month time limit, drew eight airplane builders, none of whom were successful. A month after the Post's deadline, Louis Paulhan, a famous "French birdman," came to Denver with his wife, his Farman biplane and an entourage of 35 mechanics, engineers and workmen. He had been traveling the country staging flying exhibitions and had been contracted by a Denver businessman to attempt the state's first engine-powered flight. Plans called for a three-day show at Overland Park, on the southwest outskirts of Denver, where the gravel racetrack would make a perfect runway. The city arranged for tramcars and a special train to carry people back and forth. It also sent a dozen policemen-six on horseback-to handle any crowds. The poor men in blue were completely overwhelmed when the biggest crowd Denver had ever seen, an estimated 40,000 to 50,000 people, showed up on the first day (Tuesday, Feb. 1, 1910) to see Paulhan's scheduled 3 p.m. flight. On the first attempt, the plane rose 20 to 30 feet off the ground for only a matter of seconds, then flopped to the ground. Paulhan tried again, but no luck. Most of the disappointed audience left, still wondering if sustained flight was possible. Those who stayed throughout the cold winter afternoon were finally rewarded on Paulhan's third attempt. With a shudder and a roar, the frail biplane, spitting oil and smoke, bounced down the racetrack heading for the sky. As the freezing spectators held their collective breath, the plane rose from the ground as if pulled by the hands of an unseen puppeteer. Paulhan reached an estimated altitude of 100 to 300 feet, then turned back to land. Much to his surprise, the excited crowd had swarmed onto the track, leaving him no place to set down. Buzzing the startled spectators, he made another turn before landing in an open field. In the blink of an eye, Colorado's first engine-powered flight was over. Two days later, on the last day of the show, Paulhan earned the distinction of being the first to crash an airplane in Colorado. His craft was 20 feet off the ground when it began "acting up" and crashed into a group of spectators, injuring three slightly. Paulhan was unhurt. Unfortunately, his plane didn't fare as well. While it survived the crash, it didn't survive a zealous crowd looking for souvenirs-most of the biplane disappeared in bits and pieces. Jeff Miller is editor of EnCompass and author of Stapleton International Airport: The First Fifty Years. Beyond the Facts: How it might have felt by Dave Hunter Editor's Note: Thanks to the generosity of the city of Dayton, Ohio (the Wright brothers' home), Canadian travel writer Dave Hunter was given a ride in a replica 1909 Wright Flyer "B." EnCompass asked Hunter for his impressions of the flight: On grassy Kettering Field outside of Dayton, Ohio, I sat strapped into the flying machine while pilot John allowed the 1909 engine to warm up; it was in this moment that I felt a real connection with Man's first powered flight. Few people have heard an antique Wright engine rhythmically clicking as its oily tappets compressed the cylinder valves, or felt the vibration of a Flyer's huge wooden propellers as they idled astern with an eerie thrumming noise, driven by bicycle chains humming through narrow tubes. Surrounded above and below with ribbed canvas wings, a forest of wires and wooden struts, and with a brass petrol canister secured to the stanchion above my head to gravity feed the engine, I didn't need to close my eyes to take me back to the early 1900s — I was already there. John tapped me on the shoulder and I lowered my flying goggles. With a hand adjustment to the spark magneto he opened the fuel lever and the props' thrumming steadied before exploding into a loud angry roar. The 1909 Wright Flyer "B" trundled forward. As it slowly gathered ground speed, the grassy surface beneath us transmitted its unevenness into a shaking which seemed to tear at the very structure on which we were strapped. My nerves tingled waiting for the inevitable...but then, with a final shudder, the ground slowly slipped away and we climbed smoothly into the waiting sky. John had me take the stick. At an air speed of about 50 mph, the Flyer lumbered on her controls like an old car with no power steering. All too soon it was over. We exchanged our airspace for the bumpy landing strip— and I exchanged Orville and Wilbur's simpler world, for today's complex century.
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