Air and Space Museum

Chuck Yeager's Bell X-1

After chatting all morning  with lobbyists, Tim and I decided to spend our last afternoon in D.C. at the Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum. Unfortunately the museum is currently under renovation, so the exhibits seemed rather haphazard—Neil Armstrong's space suit, for instance, was part of the Wright brothers display (huh?). Nevertheless, it's always exciting to be around rockets and historic airplanes.

 

Spirit of St. Louis flying over the Apollo Lunar Module

 

Skylab B, which was never launched into space

 

 Tail-end of Apollo command module

docking with USSR Soyuz 

 

Neil Armstrong's moon-landing space suit

 

And historic airplanes, too—Lockheed 5B Vega, Amelia

Earhart's favorite 

Most exciting, however, was seeing the actual 11-foot-long model of the starship Enterprise used in the opening credits of the original Star Trek series. Painstakingly restored, the model, which used to unceremoniously hang in the museum's gift shop, now has its own display, lighting up three times a day at 11AM, 1PM, and 3PM. We were, of course, there!

 

 Refurbished Enterprise

 

View from the rear

 

Unadorned backside, which was never filmed

All lit up!

Happy Trekkie!

Mars Rocket Launch

 

Local news outlets excited about the launch!

 

I have wanted to see a live rocket launch since May 5, 1961, when my 2^nd-grade teacher brought her black-and-white TV to class so we students could watch the first U.S. astronaut, Alan Shepard, blast into space. Fifty-seven years later, to the day, my husband Tim and I found ourselves standing at the dark end of the Lompoc airport’s runway, waiting to watch the launch of a Mars-bound missile, called InSight, from Vandenberg Air Force Base. Although nearly 300 rockets have launched from Vandenberg since the 1950s, this one was especially historic as it was the west coast’s first interplanetary mission. I had to be there.

All Lompoc hotels were completely booked by the time I heard about the launch. So we ended up in Santa Maria, 25 miles away. Liftoff was scheduled for 4:05AM, Saturday morning. We drove up on Friday, taking a detour through Lompoc so we could scope-out the various sites NASA recommended for optimum viewing. We decided to try our luck at Lompoc's small municipal airport, which promised to open its grounds to the public at 2:30AM. We then drove north to Santa Maria, 45 minutes away.

We set the alarm for 1:15AM before hitting the hay at 8PM. Not surprisingly, I didn’t sleep much and so was wide-awake when the alarm went off five hours later. It was foggy at 1:30AM as we headed back to Lompoc. Would the launch be scrubbed because of the fog?

Once we arrived in Lompoc, we were directed to enter the airport via a street behind Walmart, which we found by following all the other cars headed toward the viewing site. We parked along one of the runways. I thought we would just stay in our car till it got closer to launch time. But no—everyone was walking toward several bright lights at the other end of the runway, so we did, too. We didn’t think to bring beach chairs (like everyone else), but we did have enough foresight to dress warmly. Last minute, I grabbed the dirty old comforter I keep in back of the car, in case of emergency—and thank goodness, because it got pretty chilly by launch time.

 

 Toasty in my aunt's old comforter

The viewing area was located at the end of the airport runway, facing toward the ocean and Vandenberg, seven miles away. NASA setup a large tent filled with exhibits and selfie opportunities, while military personnel sold patches and other mementoes of the evening. A nice young man took our photo. A news cameraperson, from the local NBC affiliate, then came over and interviewed us about the launch. Leaving the tent, we both got a strong whiff of tamales. And sure enough, a man was waving us over to buy hot tamales from a cart. At 3AM! I resisted, but Tim was in his glory.

 

 NASA tent

Cool exhibits

 

At 3:30AM, NASA began broadcasting information about the launch over a couple of speakers setup across from the tent. Hundreds of people had arrived by then and were starting to stakeout their spots at the end of the runway. Many of us worried the fog would kill the launch, but the voice over the speakers assured us the weather wasn’t an issue. We stood and waited and then at 4AM, the lights suddenly went out as we collectively held our breath.

Countdown began right on time at 4:05AM: seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero. Lift-off. We heard the rocket roar and felt the earth rumble. And then . . . NOTHING! We could hear the missile launching, but saw only pitch-black darkness over the ocean. Five hundred people just stood there dumb-founded, desperately searching the skies for the faintest glimmer of light. But there was nothing to see. The fog completely obscured our view. So we turned around and walked back to the car. We drove to Santa Maria in silence.

We arrived at the hotel an hour later. Guessing where we’d been, the desk clerk asked if we were able to see anything. We wagged our heads, “No.” She gave us a sad look as we headed to our room. We climbed into bed and didn’t wake-up till 10AM.

So we didn’t actually see the launch, but at least we got to share the experience with hundreds of people who had come from all over California and beyond. Plus we were on that night’s NBC news! So all was not lost. 

Fingers crossed we’ll be able to go again some other 

time . . .

On the news that night

The liftoff we didn't see 

Titan Missile Museum

Nuclear holocaust was a distant but very real threat for those us growing up in the 1950s/60s. We practiced ducking-and-covering when citywide air-raid sirens were tested once a month. We were also intrigued by rumors of people building bomb shelters in their backyards. Ever looming nuclear war was just part of everyday life. However, as I grow older and learn more about the U.S.'s Cold War with the Soviet Union, I marvel at how we even survived that period.

Tim and I usually travel to Arizona every other year to see baseball spring training. While there, we like to take in some of the local attractions, such as the Pima Air Museum & Boneyard or the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix. This year we decided to visit the Titan Missile Museum, site of the last remaining nuclear missile on "alert" from 1963 until 1987. 

Located outside Tucson, about two hours from our hotel in Tempe, this unassuming museum is home to one of the 54 nuclear missile launch sites that used to operate in Arizona, Kansas and Arkansas. Housed underground, the mega-ton Titan IIs, which were also used to propel Gemini capsules and their astronauts into space, could be airborne within a minute of receiving launch orders. Once detonated, the missile's nuclear warhead would kill everything within a 900-mile radius. But as our tour guides kept emphasizing, the main purpose of the missile program was to deter enemies from launching their own missiles. Luckily the ploy worked, leaving just one unarmed missile site to serve today as a museum and important cautionary history lesson.

Museum entrance

Visitors enter the site through a small building that contains a gift shop and excellent exhibit of Cold War artifacts. The hour-long tours of the missile silo start with a 15-minute video, orienting the group to what they're about to see. The group then goes outside, where a tour guide leads everyone to a set of concrete stairs heading underground.

Impossible to tell there's a mega-ton missile under this

unassuming landscape

Stairs heading underground

The launch site itself actually consists of three areas, connected by long hallways: living quarters and launch control (left), decontamination area (center), and missile silo (right), as illustrated below (click on image to enlarge). Once underground, our guide led us to the control room, where what now looks to be ancient (i.e., early 1960s) equipment used to monitor the missile and await launch orders. Crews of four worked in 24-hour shifts.

Detailed illustration of the underground site

One of many door button panels to enter the inner sanctum

State-of-the-art equipment in early 1960s

The red locker held the launch codes, requiring two people to access—

note the two locks on the locker

From there, we walked down a long corridor, passing the decontamination area and into the silo, where the (now de-nuked) Titan II still stands. The silo was built as two 150-foot-deep concentric cylinders: the outer ring measuring 55 ft. wide; the other, called the "launch duct," 26 ft. wide. Walls are 8 ft. thick. Though not allowed to go inside the cylinders, we were able to peer at the missile through two glass windows. Seeing the Titan II in such close proximity was absolutely breathtaking—not so much as a weapon of war, but more as a vehicle for space exploration, which I love.

Tim walking down the long corridor

Decontamination suits

Emergency shower if exposed to radiation—Karen Silkwood, anyone?

First sight of the missile's main body

De-nuked nosecone

Above ground again, we were encouraged to look at the missile through an observation window created specifically for tourists. And there it was, still standing in its underground silo, waiting for orders to wreak havoc on the world. Chilling, but a fascinating reminder of why no one should have the power to launch mass destruction. 

Looking down on the missile from the observation deck

By the way, if you're a Star Trek fan, you may recognize the Titan II and its silo from the movie First Contact, where savvy scientists turn a deactivated missile into the first "warp drive" spaceship. Yay!

Space Shuttle Endeavour

TV coverage of the Endeavour's trek home

The phone rang at 6AM. It was Karen. We had briefly discussed, last night, the possibility of going to see the space shuttle Endeavour as it left LAX on its final trek to the California Science Center. But then I went to bed. Karen, however, lives within blocks of the airport’s runways and so got up at 2AM to chase the shuttle. She called at 6:00 to tell me that it was parked in a Westchester shopping center and, since the crowds were still relatively small, now would be a good time to see it.

Shuttle on the move (thanks Karen!)

Wing shot

Tail view

In case you don’t know, the Science Center was one of many agencies that vied to house Endeavour after it retired. The shuttle famously flew into town, September 21, on the back of a 747 airplane and buzzed over several Los Angeles landmarks before landing at LAX. For the next two days, Endeavour will slowly make its way to its final destination in Exposition Park.

We had missed the fly-over because we were in Kansas City—I was not about to miss the shuttle driving through the streets of L.A. So, even though I was still half-asleep, I hung-up the phone, threw on yesterday’s clothes, brushed my teeth, and hopped into the car, heading south on Sepulveda. Following Karen’s directions, I turned left on 83^rd and entered a residential neighborhood. Others obviously had the same idea, so I took the first parking spot I could find. I then quietly walked four blocks, alongside several other early-risers. We all had our cameras at the ready.

The shuttle is reportedly five stories tall—I kept my eyes peeled. Then suddenly I saw something rather incongruous.

“There’s the tail!” I whispered to myself, as it peaked above the surrounding buildings.

A good crowd for 6:20AM!

Indeed, the Endeavour was parked across the street from our new favorite breakfast joint, the Coffee Company, in the exact same lot we had parked last Sunday morning! I snapped a bunch of photos and then left because I had an 8:45AM dental appointment downtown. 

I was sorry Tim wasn’t with me, but maybe we’ll get to see it together tomorrow.

I was home by 6:45AM.

Huntington Library

Maloof chair

With the holidays—and a rather grueling fall academic quarter—now over, we can once again turn our attention to Pacific Standard Time, the phenomenal regionwide show of postwar Southern California art.  To make up for lost time, Tim, Karen and I schlepped out to the Huntington Library on Saturday to see two fabulous exhibits: “The House that Sam Built: Sam Maloof and Art in the Pomona Valley, 1945-1985” and the chronologically-related “Blue Sky Metropolis: The Aerospace Century in Southern California.” 

Born in Chino, CA, in 1916, Sam Maloof was the first craftsperson ever to receive a MacArthur Foundation genius grant.  Although not as influential as his contemporaries Ray and Charles Eames, Maloof’s furniture is nonetheless world renowned and very emblematic of mid-century artistry.  The Huntington exhibit brings together 116 Maloof pieces, plus the complementary art of colleagues and friends who lived and worked nearby.  A sampling of the items shown follow below.  I highly recommend the exhibit, which ends January 30th, for anyone who loves mid-twentieth-century pottery, woodworking and art.

Maloof chair

Painting by Millard Sheets

Maloof loveseat

Painting by Jean Ames

Just as impressive (for me, at least) was the aerospace exhibit which, unfortunately, ended this past weekend.  Though small, “Blue Sky Metropolis” packed a lot of fascinating info into one room.  Included were several historic photos of Lockheed and its notoriously secret Skunk Works, located just a few miles from where I grew-up in Burbank.  Historic aeronautical events that took place in Downey, close to where I worked in 1994, and, of course, Culver City, which we now call home, were also featured.  A companion book is due to be released later this year.

And, naturally, no trip to the Huntington would be complete without visiting its magnificent cactus and succulent garden.  Not much in bloom yet, but outstanding anyway.

Kennedy Space Center

One of my earliest childhood memories is of watching astronaut Alan Shepard blast-off from Cape Canaveral to take the first U.S. trip into space. The event was so historically significant that my 1st-grade teacher brought a TV to class so we could all watch. I was immediately hooked on space travel.

Oddly enough, it never occurred to me that Orlando is only an hour away from the Kennedy Space Center—that is, until Tim’s boss mentioned we might need a break from Disney while there (thanks Mike!). Boy, was he right! On Tuesday, we rented a car and drove to the Kennedy Space Center, home to NASA and my childhood dreams of space exploration. Hands down, it was the highlight of our vacation.

Much like Walt Disney World, the Space Center is spread out over many miles, most of which are accessible only by tour bus. The visitor center features a rocket garden of early spacecraft, exhibits about the U.S. vs USSR "space race," an IMAX theater, and an open space shuttle. There’s also an astronaut hall of fame, located a couple of miles away, and a fabulous offsite Apollo/Saturn V Center, which houses an example of the monstrous Saturn rockets that carried the Apollo moon missions into space. To get the real flavor of the place, however, you have to pay extra to take a tour of either Cape Canaveral (”Then and Now”) or the shuttle assembly building, launch pad and landing strip. We opted to revisit our youth and so toured the Cape.

Some of the launch pads are still active; but the most impressive ones were those where Shepard, John Glenn, et al., lifted off in the 1960s. We toured the “blockhouse” where Shepard’s first flight was counted down

and took pictures of what remains of launch pad 14, where Glenn’s historic Friendship 7 flight originated.

The most emotional site, though, was launch pad 34 where the crew of Apollo 1 burned to death during an on-ground test run. Although it was a horrible time for the space program, NASA eventually recovered and launched Apollo 7 from this same site.

The dramatic concrete pad base

and huge flame diverters remain on the site, as does a memorial to the three Apollo astronauts who lost their lives.

Tickets to the Kennedy Space Center are good for two days. “That’s strange,” I thought when we paid our entrance fee. But now I know why. Spending only one day at the Space Center is not nearly enough. The next time we’re in Florida, I hope to schedule at least two days on Cape Canaveral as this was truly one of the most amazing places we’ve ever visited.