Women Take Wing

In Uncategorized on August 20, 2014 by hillermuseum


Louise Thaden

Pioneering Women in Aerospace
By Jon Welte

Each year more than ten thousand children visit the Hiller Aviation Museum as part of a school visit or other educational outing. Most visits begin beneath the Museum’s full scale Wright Flyer replica hanging at the entrance to the main Atrium. Many students have heard of the Wright Brothers, but few know of Katharine Wright, the only Wright sister to survive to adulthood. Unlike Wilbur and Orville’s two older brothers, Katharine took an active interest in and provided material support to Wilbur and Orville in their aerial pursuits. Katharine corresponded extensively with both brothers during their field work, supporting them and becoming immersed in their ideas for the future of flight. In 1908 Orville was seriously injured in a crash that took the life of his passenger. Lt. Thomas Selfridge. Katharine left her high school teaching job to aid Orville through his long convalescence, then took a position in the operation of the Wright Aircraft Company. During the brothers’ subsequent European tour she was the public face of the company, and became an officer of the organization shortly after Wilbur’s death in 1912.

Katharine Wright never sought to become a pilot herself, but as the excitement of aviation overtook the nation women fought for a place in the vanguard of aerial pioneers. Driving enthusiast Blanche Stuart Scott took flight in a Curtiss Pusher in 1910, becoming the first woman to solo an airplane. In 1911 Harriett Quimby became the first American woman to secure a pilot certificate, and by 1920 women had established a place in American aviation despite reservations and resistance from male aviators unconvinced that a woman’s place could be in the air.

In the mid-1920s the ranks of female aviators were bolstered by Louise McPhetridge, who would go on to become one of the most decorated aviators of her time. McPhetridge was hired by Walter Beech as a sale representative for the Travel Air aircraft company, and by 1928 had earned her pilot certificate. In 1929 she married Herbert von Thaden. Thaden, a San Francisco-based pilot and aircraft builder, constructed the all-metal Thaden T-1 Argonaut now displayed at the Hiller Aviation Museum. Flying under her married name, Louise Thaden quickly became one of the nation’s pre-eminent female aviators, earning the equivalent of an Airline Transport Pilot certificate and going on to set records for maximum altitude and flight endurance.

Despite these advances aviation remained a field partially closed to women. During the interwar years air racing evolved as a high profile means of developing both planes and pilots to their maximum potential, and well into 1930s women were conspicuously barred from participating. In 1929, Thaden joined a select group of 20 women competing in the first Women’s Air Derby, a near-transcontinental race from Santa Monica, California to Cleveland, Ohio. The race, also known (derisively at first) as the Powder Puff Derby, featured nearly all of the skilled female pilots in the country, plus competitors from Germany and Australia. Thaden won the competition, besting a decorated field that included such notable pilots as Amelia Earhart and Pancho Barnes. By 1936 the ban on female aviators participating in the National Air Races was lifted, and that year male and female aviators competed directly against each other for the first time. Louise Thaden and her copilot, Blanche Noyes, won resoundingly.

Following close on Thaden’s heels was Jacqueline (“Jackie”) Cochran. Cochran had learned to fly in the early 1930s, and in 1938 repeated Thaden’s feat of winning the coveted Bendix Trophy. Cochran excelled in piloting high speed, high performance racing planes and was an outspoken advocate encouraging women to enter the field of aviation. During World War II Cochran lobbied US Army Air Force General Hap Arnold to create a women’s flying corps, and in 1943 became director of the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs), which allowed female pilots to fly military aircraft in auxiliary roles such as ferry flights and training missions.

With the creation of an independent United States Air Force following the war, Cochran joined the Air Force Reserve and ultimately achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Cochran’s ongoing association with high performance aircraft led her to become the first female pilot to achieve supersonic flight in 1952, and to become an advocate for the inclusion of women in the astronaut program at the beginning of the Space Age.

NASA did not select its first female astronaut until the late 1970s, but thanks to the trailblazing efforts of aviators like Thaden and Cochran the way to space would gradually open to talented female aviators and others. These pioneering women in aviation have served not only as exceptional aviators, but as ambassadors highlighting opportunities for women in aviation and aerospace, disciplines deeply underlain by science, technology, engineering and mathematics—often abbreviated as STEM.

Today, scientists like Emily Lakdawalla continue this important work, inspiring the public in general and young people in particular with the allure and majesty of spaceflight. Lakdawalla, a former middle school science teacher turned planetary geologist, completed her master’s degree researching radar imagery collected from Venus, and has investigated Martian volcanoes using data obtained from spacecraft orbiting the Red Planet. Lakdawalla currently works with The Planetary Society, the world’s largest public-supported space advocacy group, disseminating information gathered from across the solar system and promoting ongoing public involvement in space exploration.

This fall, the Hiller Aviation Museum will welcome Emily Lakdawalla as its featured speaker at the 2014 Benefit Gala, “Unlimited Horizons”, to be held on October 18th. The Gala’s theme this year celebrates women in STEM and aviation fields and supports the Museum’s outreach and education programs.

The Hiller Aviation Museum actively promotes STEM education as a core mission, using aviation and aerospace to encourage all people, and youth in particular, to see science and math as a stairway to the skies. The Museum also preserves part of the history of past pathfinders, exhibiting the 1929 Travel Air flown by Louise Thaden on her record-setting endurance flight.
Throughout its collection, the Hiller Aviation Museum highlights the contributions of a range of remarkable women to the advancement of flight. Come see exhibits commemorating many of these women, or attend the Museum’s fall Gala to lend your support to its ongoing mission.

Resources, Downloaded 5 Aug 2014 , Downloaded 5 Aug 2014
The Sky’s the Limit. Wendy Boase, 1979
United States Women in Aviation 1919-1929. Kathleen Brooks-Pazmany, 1991.
United States Women in Aviation 1929-1939. Claudia M. Oakes, 1991.


Runway to Imagination

In Uncategorized on April 7, 2014 by hillermuseum


The History of Model Aviation
By Jon Welte

For centuries, children around the world have been fascinated by flying toys. Skyrockets celebrating the New Year high over China; fighter kites slashing through the air over the rooftops of Kabul; a simple French-made whirligig, given by a father to his young sons in Dayton, Ohio. Each served to delight and inspire, carrying young minds aloft and, in the cases of young Wilbur and Orville Wright, launching careers in aeronautical innovation that would change the world.

By the 1920s, most model aircraft fell three major groups: Design prototypes, display models, and flying models. Each has played an important part in the development and promotion of aviation.

Prototypes are structural models constructed to test aeronautical concepts without incurring the expense of constructing a full size model. British aviation pioneer George Cayley constructed models of this nature as early as 1792. American designer Samuel Langley famously demonstrated his proposed Aerodrome with a powered scale model flown in 1896. Wilbur and Orville Wright pursued modeling in a different way; after two frustrating years constructing and testing full sized gliders, the Wrights built models of small airfoil shapes to test in a wind tunnel. The brothers built and “flew” nearly 200 small tin airfoils before settling on a design for their future aircraft.

In some cases, scale prototypes proved suitable for use for exhibition. Langley’s hopes of building a man-sized version of his Aerodrome were dashed in the chilly waters of the Potomac River, but the 1896 model remains on display today. Engineering models, however, were not always attractive to look at and lacked fine details present in the finished product. Models specifically designed for display soon began to appear, and in 1920 the Smithsonian recognized the importance of aircraft models by hiring Paul Garber, a leader of a Washington DC-area model club, to build, collect and display models related to aviation. Garber himself constructed highly detailed models of many 19th century aircraft that had not survived into the new century; relying in most cases on fragmented historical accounts of these aircraft, Garber’s work was a major contribution in the preservation and interpretation of a poorly-known period in aviation history.

Construction of aircraft models for display was not merely a pursuit for serious historians, but also for the general public—particularly young people with an interest in aviation. By the 1920s aircraft model kits were popular and widely available. Most models were built of various types of wood and many required a high degree of skill to construct, yet the results could be beautiful and highly detailed. During World War II the United States Navy and Army Air Force found themselves in need of many thousands of realistic model aircraft for use in aircraft identification training, and through 1943 hundreds of thousands of wooden models were constructed by a nationwide network of high school students devoted to the pastime.

By the end of the war wooden display models had given way to mass produced plastic kits. In the postwar boom, manufacturing technology allowed fabrication of detailed plastic model kits of nearly every type of aircraft imaginable. Even a modeler of modest means and skills could, with a bit of patience, construct a realistic display model.

Despite his considerable skills in the construction of display models, much of Garber’s passion was for models that could fly. In 1870, Frenchman Alphonse Penaud constructed the first flying model aircraft powered by twisted elastic bands; it was a model helicopter designed by Penaud that Milton Wright brought home to give to his youngest sons, Wilbur and Orville. By 1909, modeling clubs held tournaments in which rubber-powered airplanes flew distances of half a mile or more. After Charles Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight of 1927 launched a renewed worldwide interest in flight, building detailed balsa-and-tissue model kits became a popular hobby for many American children.

Garber was active in the promotion and preservation of model aviation throughout this period, even as his responsibilities to the Smithsonian grew. He collaborated with the Playground and Recreation Association of America in the late 1920s to disseminate information on the construction and flight of model aircraft, from simple paper gliders to competition-level rubber powered flyers. The abilities of model aircraft continued to grow, however, much as real aircraft reached ever higher levels of performance.

In the most sophisticated flying models, rubber band power gave way to tiny gasoline powered motors as early as the 1930s. By the late 1940s, control line model airplanes appeared—these remained tethered to a ground-based operator by a pair of long control wires, which forced the model to fly in circles around its pilot. The wires were usually configured to operate the model’s elevator and throttle, making precisely controlled circular flight possible.

Radio control for model aircraft actually appeared before control line aviation, with the first demonstration flight held in 1937. The design was straightforward: one radio channel commanded the aircraft’s rudder, providing directional control. The other controlled the aircraft’s engine. Radio control permitted a gasoline (or electric) powered model airplane the ability to fly freely around a field, unencumbered by control wires and able to fly as long as its fuel tank or battery charge permitted.

Model aviation today continues to change in response to evolving technologies. The most sophisticated radio controlled aircraft can be powered by small jet engines and approach the size and speed of small general aviation airplanes. Flying model helicopters are capable of maneuvers impossible for most of their full-sized brethren, and infrared-controlled miniature helicopters have become popular household toys.

The Hiller Aviation Museum celebrates the large and the small in model aviation as it hosts the World’s Biggest Little Air Show on Saturday, May 2nd. The San Carlos Airport runway will close to make way for a dazzling array of miniature aircraft. Model airplanes, helicopters, rockets and more will take to the skies over San Carlos in a series of demonstrations. Join us for a remarkable foray into the world of flying model aircraft.


Building and Flying Model Aircraft. Paul Garber, 1928.

On Miniature Wings. Thomas Dietz, 1995.


The Birth of American Aerobatics

In Uncategorized on November 22, 2013 by hillermuseum

Little Looper at the Museum

Little Looper at the Hiller Aviation Museum

Lincoln Beachey and the Little Looper
by Jon Welte

In January 1910, the first air show in the United States was held at Dominguez, California, just a short road or rail journey from Los Angeles. Over a quarter million people flocked to the meet, with most seeing an airplane fly for the first time in their lives.

One young man attended the meet as both an aviator and as an impressed spectator. San Francisco’s Lincoln Beachey grew up racing bicycles down the hills of his hometown. At eighteen he learned to fly powered airships, and experienced his first taste of the aviation spotlight piloting a dirigible at the Lewis & Clark Centennial Exposition in Portland, Oregon in 1905. A year later he made an unauthorized but well-received landing on the White House lawn.

Lincoln Beachey piloted one of six airships flown at the Dominguez meet. For Beachey, Dominguez provided a life-changing humiliation. Beachey raced a fellow airship pilot around a closed circuit course and won decisively, yet there was little opportunity to savor the triumph. During the race, French aviator Louis Paulhan took flight in a Farman monoplane. Paulhan had shown a penchant for showmanship throughout the meet, dazzling the crowds with maneuvers more daring than the conservative routines flown by other pilots. As the airship race drew to a close, Paulhan swooped down and circled merrily around the lumbering dirigibles.

Stung, Beachey resolved to learn to fly airplanes. After initial rebuffs from both Glenn Curtiss and the Wright Brothers, Beachey hired on as a mechanic for Curtiss’ flying team and began flying lessons. Unfortunately, Beachey’s aptitude for airships and aeronautical engines did not immediately translate into easy mastery of flight in an airplane—much of Beachey’s mechanical work involved airplanes that he had damaged in the course of his lessons.

In December 1910, Beachey filled in for an injured pilot during an exhibition back at Los Angeles. During the flight, his engine failed, the wings stalled and the airplane entered an aerodynamic spin—a condition in which one wing of an airplane is fully stalled, while the other continues to generate partial lift. A tight corkscrew and rapid descent ensues. Spins were much feared by early pilots, as the spin is stable and a spinning airplane will continue to drop until reaching the ground. Beachey, however, was able to break his airplane’s spin by pitching down into the descent to increase airspeed and restore lift to the wings.

Within weeks Beachey became one of the leading pilots on the Curtiss demonstration team. He flew at Tanforan in 1911, captivating the crowds with his artistry and showmanship. He flew at venues across the United States and Caribbean. Throughout, his mechanical knowledge added to his flying. Curtiss airplanes of the era typically had two horizontal stabilizers, one each at the front and rear of the craft. When a rough landing damaged the forward stabilizer of his plane, Beachey famously removed it entirely. As he predicted the rear stabilizer was sufficient to maintain directional control, and the reduced weight and drag boosted his airplane’s performance.

After a brief retirement in 1913, Beachey returned to the air to master the inside loop, a maneuver first mastered by a French aviator. Spurred on by national pride and the spirit of competition, Beachey directed Curtiss to design and build a reinforced airplane able to sustain the forces of a loop. Beachey completed his first loop in November 1913.

Despite this, Beachey was not satisfied. His airplane was structurally reinforced to stand up to the forces of aerobatics, but its engine would stop running when inverted. In early 1914 technology advanced and Beachey travelled to France to acquire a pair of Gnome rotary engines. This innovative design was composed of seven cylinders arranged in a circle around the propeller shaft. When running, both the engine and the propeller whirled around. The Gnome operated equally well upside down as right side up. Beachey directed his crew to install a Gnome engine in his newest airplane, giving rise to his “Little Looper”. On tour throughout the United States, Beachey conducted many flights over the rest of the year, expanding his repertoire and exposing millions of people to aviation.

In early 1915 Beachey returned to San Francisco for a yearlong assignment flying as part of San Francisco’s Panama Pacific International Exhibition. Back in his home town, Beachey planned to open an aircraft company specializing in aerobatic machines. Its first product was a sleek monoplane dubbed the Taube, or dove. Beachey had been drawn to monoplanes since his humiliation at Dominguez in 1910, as they had less drag and greater speed than biplanes.

The Taube was a beautiful aircraft and proved significantly faster than the Little Looper, making for more spectacular maneuvers. It also featured a tractor propeller arrangement, considered safer than the traditional pusher configuration. However, the new design also moved the pilot from the very front of the plane, exposed to the slipstream, to a protected cockpit behind the motor. While an improvement in most ways, it was a different experience for a pilot as closely attuned to the movement of his plane through the air as Lincoln Beachey.

On March 14th, 1915, Beachey flew his Taube in a special routine offshore from San Francisco. In a rapid decent he pulled out too quickly, and the Taube’s wings collapsed from the load. Remarkably, corner reports indicate that Beachey survived the initial impact despite the terrific speed, but drowned before rescuers could reach him.

Lincoln Beachey died as the leading aviator in the nation that gave birth to the airplane, and was accorded the largest funeral in San Francisco’s history. Yet today he is largely unknown, overshadowed by the heroes and technologies of World War I. He represents in many ways the best of the early days of aviation—exceptional skills as a pilot and mechanic, dedicated to both advancing and popularizing the science of flight. The Hiller Aviation Museum proudly displays the original Little Looper, preserving a true Northern California legacy in flight.


Lincoln Beachy: The Man Who Owned the Sky. Frank Marrero, 1997.
San Francisco’s Panama Pacific International Exhibition. William Lipsky, 2005.


The Birdling From Chico

In Uncategorized on September 5, 2013 by hillermuseum


Thaddeus Kerns w-plane

The Birdling From Chico

The Thaddeus Kearns Memorial

The Hiller Aviation Museum was established by Stanley Hiller, Jr., a remarkable Californian who had his start in aviation designing and building the unique XH-44 helicopter in his family’s garage. Hiller was just nineteen years old when he successfully piloted the XH-44 himself on its maiden flight at Cal’s Memorial Stadium in 1943.

Stan Hiller was not the only young man to take to the skies of Northern California as a teenager in a flying machine of his own creation. Chico, nestled at the junction of the Cascades and the Sierra Nevada, was the home of another aspiring aviator some three decades earlier. Thaddeus Kearns was inspired by the growing national excitement in aviation stemming the public flights of Wilbur and Orville Wright in 1908, and soon built and flew a number of model airplanes. Kearns quickly expanded beyond models and by early 1910 had constructed and flown an ambitious biplane hang glider not far from his boyhood home.

In the autumn of that same year, Kearns constructed a home-built copy of a Curtiss Model D airplane. The Model D was developed by Glenn Curtiss as a development of airplane designs he had built and flown competitively in 1908 and 1909. Curtiss’ pusher-propeller, biplane design was widely emulated after the previously unknown pilot and designer flew the machine to a shocking win in a speed competition at an air meet in Reims, France, in 1909. Defeating the storied French aviator Louis Bleriot among others, Curtiss returned to the United States and made what became his Model D the world’s first mass-produced airplane.

Perhaps due to his own lengthy patent battle with the Wright Brothers, Curtiss did not discourage emulation of his own design and many early aviators built machines of a similar mould, such as the Hiller Aviation Museum’s own Black Diamond airplane. It was natural that Thaddeus Kearns would construct his own airplane following the pattern of the Model D. Once complete, Kearns launched a series of test flights from his family home at Chico. Much like the Wright Brothers nearly a decade earlier, Kearns did not have the benefit of a flight instructor and had to teach himself to fly.

Exhibition flying came to Northern California in January 1911, as pilots and machines from around the world alighted at the Tanforan Air Meet, near modern-day San Francisco International Airport. Kearns and his airplane traveled to the Bay to observe the cutting edge of aviation and to enter the meet’s amateur competition. Although the sixteen year old prodigy crashed at the end of his second flight, his two successful takeoffs were more than most competitors in the amateur field managed and the resilient attitude he displayed after walking away from a harrowing accident won him widespread acclaim from spectators and professional aviators alike.

Kearns persevered through a number of accidents and growing pressure from his parents to abandon aviation for other, safer pursuits—pilots in the early 1910s suffered from an appalling mortality rate. Reports published in Chico newspapers indicate that the young Kearns had agreed to hang up his wings repeatedly, but inevitably returned to the air on each occasion. A century ago this summer he reached the end of his good fortunate, and perished in a structural failure of an airplane he was testing, within sight of his parents’ home in Chico. Just nineteen years old at the time of his death, Kearns made a lasting impression on the Chico community as its earliest aviator.

The Hiller Aviation Museum has honored the adventurous spirit of Thaddeus Kearns since its opening, as a full-scale statue of Kearns and his 1910 glider graces the Museum’s front parking lot. This monument to the fallen teenage aviator has historically been one of the Museum’s least visited exhibits, since the original landscape design precluded visitors from approaching the statue closely. All of this changed due to the enterprising efforts of another Northern California teen, Serra High School student and San Mateo resident Conor McCann.

Conor has been involved with Scouting for the past twelve years and currently belongs to Troop 42 in the Pacific Skyline Council. This year he is working to reach Eagle Scout, a level of advancement that fewer than 5% of all Boy Scouts attain in their Scouting careers. Achieving the rank of Eagle Scout requires completion of at least 21 Merit Badges, fulfilling a number of leadership roles within a Scout Troop, and completion of a service project within the community.

Making the journey to Eagle Scout is a long-term project that requires resolve and dedication on the part of the Scouts who undertake it. In selecting the Thaddeus Kearns Memorial as the venue for his Eagle Scout service project, Conor has chosen to honor a pioneer of early aviation who exhibited exactly the same qualities. The newly landscaped Memorial in front of the Museum, replete with seating areas and interpretive signage, elevates the story of Thaddeus Kearns in the tapestry of aviation history preserved at the Hiller Aviation Museum.

The Hiller Aviation Museum will dedicate its newly renovated Thaddeus Kearns Memorial on Saturday, September 21st. This is a Scout Saturday, a day on which Boy and Girl Scouts of all ages are invited to visit the Museum at no charge. Join the Museum and the local Scouting community on this day as we celebrate the achievements of Thaddeus Kearns and salute Conor McCann for his service to the community.


La Peninsula, “A History of San Francisco International Airport”, 1991
San Carlos Airport Association. Downloaded
6 May 2013
San Mateo County Planning Commission. “Airports & Airways Master Plan”, 1950
Svanevik, Michael. “San Mateo County Chronicles”, 1995


Gateways to the Sky

In Uncategorized on August 29, 2013 by hillermuseum

San Carlos Airport circa 1966

San Carlos Airport circa 1966

The Airports of San Mateo County

The birth of the modern airplane could not have occurred without the simultaneous birth of the modern airfield. Wilbur Wright, searching for a location with favorable weather for flying the gliders that he and his brother envisioned, used both US Weather Bureau data and recommendations from aviation pioneer Octave Chanute to settle on Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, as a flying field. Its open beaches, rolling dunes and solitude were ideally suited to those first tentative steps into the air, but by 1904 the Wrights shifted their ongoing experiments to Huffman Prairie, a spot near to their Dayton workshop despite the disadvantage of poorer flying conditions– a catapult was usually needed to ensure a safe takeoff.

Aviation came to the Bay Area not long after the Wrights unveiled vastly improved versions of their flying machine to the world in 1908. That year, Wilbur launched a series of public flights in Europe using a race track at Le Mans, France. The track combined wide fields with public viewing areas and made a fine venue for demonstration flights. The same criteria held sway when the Bay Area hosted its first public flight demonstrations some two years later. In January 1910, thousands of spectators flocked to the Tanforan Race Track in San Bruno for the state’s first Air Meet. Tanforan’s facilities, combined with easy road and rail access from San Francisco and the Peninsula, made it a compelling location. The following year the Air Meet returned to Tanforan, and the adjoining Selfridge Field– named to honor US Army Lt. Thomas Selfridge, killed in a test flight of a Wright airplane in 1908– served as the launching field for Eugene Ely’s history flight to the cruiser Pennsylvania in San Francisco Bay.

For a short period of time airplanes were operated from open fields in nearly any location, but technology advanced rapidly during and after the First World War and airplanes required longer takeoff runs to reach flying speed. In 1926 San Francisco City Engineer Michael O’Shaughnessy reached the conclusion that an appropriate airport could not be built within the city limits, and instead recommended purchase of a 200-acre site and adjoining baylands owned by Ogden Mills. The San Francisco Board of Supervisors ultimately approved this site, and the airfield– originally named Mills Field, partly in the hope that the Ogden Mills estate would ultimately donate the desired parcel– was dedicated on May 7th, 1927. Within its first year of operation the future San Francisco International Airport celebrated the arrival of Charles Lindbergh, on a publicity tour with his Spirit of St. Louis airplane of transatlantic crossing fame.

Despite an auspicious early send-off, Mills Field quickly fell into disrepute. Even along the newly-renovated Bayshore Highway it was an interminable 22-minute drive from downtown San Francisco, and foggy weather frequently interfered with flight operations. Boeing Air Transport, the predecessor of today’s United Airlines, abandoned Mills Field for the better weather and facilities found at Oakland Airport. And in what could have been a final indignity, Lindbergh himself was mired in mud at Mills Field while piloting a 1929 demonstration flight in a large airliner carrying over 30 passengers.

While commercial operations fled San Francisco and the Peninsula for the sunnier climes of the East Bay, smaller fields for so-called general aviation sprung up across its length. San Carlos was a leader in this regard, with the original San Carlos Flying Field established by 1917. Operating at a site about 1/2 mile northeast of the current airport location, the field’s airstrip roughly followed the modern course of Twin Dolphin Drive. Originally constructed under the direction of J. Pauling Edwards, the field became known as Cooley Field when acquired by Charles Cooley. Hemmed in by sloughs and surrounded by dikes, Cooley Field’s 1,200′ dirt strip proved adequate in fair weather for early biplanes, but sadly wanting as more sophisticated machines became available.

Despite its modest size, San Carlos boasted two separate airports during this period. The field that actually held the name San Carlos Airport was located east of the Bayshore Highway and just west of the Southern Pacific Railroad station at San Carlos. Opened in November 1941, this airfield was used for military flight training but fell into relative disuse shortly after the end of World War II. It remained active through 1950, by which time operations were consolidated at a new airfield built at the location of the current airport.

Today San Carlos Airport hosts more than 150,000 aircraft operations each year. No commercial airline service is available at the airport, as its half-mile long runway is too short for use by most airline aircraft. Instead, San Carlos Airport supports a wide range of personal, business, and emergency services operations ranging from flight instruction to aero-medical evacuations. It is also considered a “reliever” airport, as many transient aircraft that land at San Carlos carry passengers bound for San Francisco, reducing congestion at the larger field just eight nautical miles up the Peninsula.

Meanwhile, back at San Francisco, matters finally began to improve shortly after the Lindbergh debacle of 1929. The Board of Supervisors officially changed the airport’s name to San Francisco Municipal (later International) Airport in 1931, and the following year the first radio aids were installed at the field. A new, mud-free terminal opened in 1937– a replica of which exists today inside the SFO Airport Museum, found in the modern airport’s International Terminal. SFO is now the county’s seventh-busiest commercial airport, serving some 20 million passengers each year. To this day, however, travelers still chafe at the commute to downtown San Francisco and find that fog still disrupts flight operations on a regular basis, just as at the field’s inception over 85 years ago.


Wings Over the Water

In Uncategorized on March 5, 2013 by hillermuseum

reids albatross water

The Amazing Amphibians of Grumman Aeronautical Engineering
By Jon Welte

From the 1920s through the 1960s, the nature of both aircraft and the industry that designed and built them changed dramatically. Within the lifespan of a single career, aircraft went from wood-and-fabric contraptions such as the 1919 Vickers Vimy to shiny jets such as the Lockheed F-104 fighter and Douglas DC-8 airliner. Aircraft companies were transformed from inventors sewing fabric and shaping wood in their own barns and garages to enormous corporations led by talented engineers employing tens of thousands of people.

Much of this legacy of explosive growth occurred in the sunny and then sparsely-populated open spaces of California, where young engineers often worked for each other before striking out on their own. Donald Douglas, Jack Northrop, the Lougheed (Lockheed) brothers and others, including Bay Area helicopter prodigy Stan Hiller, were part of one of California’s earliest “technology clusters”.

Yet despite this frenetic activity there was another pole in North America’s aerospace world. On the opposite side of the continent aviation gained a solid foothold in New York. Pioneer Glenn Curtiss set up shop in upstate Buffalo, but the Empire State’s most enduring aviation legacy took root shortly after on Long Island, due largely to the efforts of Leroy Grumman.

Born in the twilight of the 19th century, young Roy Grumman expressed a fascination in aviation in high school and earned a mechanical engineering degree from Cornell University in 1917. When the United States entered World War I Grumman joined the US Naval Reserve, earning his wings as a naval aviator at Pensacola in 1918 before being sent by the Navy to study aeronautical engineering at MIT. In an era when many engineers also served as test pilots, Grumman cut his teeth testing Curtiss flying boats as they were prepared for Navy service. The experience made a lasting impression, as seaplanes and naval aviation became the core of Grumman’s future firm.

By 1920 the postwar Navy had downsized significantly, and Grumman left the service to work as a civilian test pilot for Loening Aeronautical Engineering. Over the next decade Grumman advanced through the ranks at Manhattan-based Loening, ultimately serving as general manager. When Loening was sold at the onset of the Great Depression, Grumman combined resources with several other Loening employees to form Grumman Aeronautical Engineering. Launched in December 1929, the company persevered in the face of the Great Depression and quickly prospered.

Much of Grumman’s early work involved maintenance and repair of Loening aircraft, and likewise its first amphibious airframe was patterned closely after a Loening design Grumman had worked on. Introduced in 1934, the Grumman JF Duck was a biplane fitted with an innovative retractable landing gear system. Featuring a large central float and smaller wingtip pontoons, the Duck had a visibly similar layout to the Loening Amphibian. Later refined as the J2F, Grumman Ducks were widely used during World War II for reconnaissance, search and rescue.

Much of Grumman’s early development effort in the 1930s was devoted to Navy fighters. The Grumman FF biplane grew into a family of carrier-based airplanes and eventually begot the legendary F4F Wildcat, first in a long line of fighting cats to fly from the decks of aircraft carriers. However, Grumman’s focus on Navy business did not preclude it from pursuing commercial opportunities. In the mid 1930s a group of Long Island businessmen approached Grumman about the feasibility of producing an airplane for use commuting from Long Island to New York City. Drawing on his experience with amphibious aircraft, Grumman designed the iconic Grumman G-21 Goose. Featuring a high wing, twin engines, a sturdy boat hull and wingtip floats, the Goose first flew in 1937 and formed the template for a family of amphibious aircraft to follow, including the Widgeon, Mallard and ultimately the Grumman Albatross.

Developed with the capability to operate from open ocean, the HU-16 Albatross was the largest of the Grumman amphibians. With a length of over 60 feet, the Albatross could take off and land with swells exceeding 10’ when equipped with supplemental JATO (jet assisted takeoff) rocket bottles. The Albatross entered service in 1949 and was a popular search and rescue platform with the United States Navy, Air Force and Coast Guard. The aircraft was used extensively for this mission in both the Korean and Vietnam Wars, and remained in US service into the early 1980s.

Following the Albatross’ retirement from military service, surplus aircraft found their way into the hands of civilian owners. One such aircraft was an Albatross originally built in 1955 but acquired by Bay Area businessman and entrepreneur Reid Dennis in the mid-1990s. Dennis, an avid private pilot, had flown general aviation airplanes for business and for pleasure for many years. The Albatross was an ideal platform for long distance, overwater cruising, and the restoration commissioned by Dennis converted the military search and rescue vehicle into a well-appointed private airplane. In 1997, Reid Dennis and Albatross N44RD participated in an around-the-world flight following the path originally flown by Amelia Earhart in 1937. Earhart’s plane disappeared in the Pacific near Howland Island, but Dennis’ Albatross and the Lockheed Electra flown by Linda Finch which he accompanied successfully completed the flight.

Aeronautical history has moved on since the heyday of Grumman Aerospace. Production of the Albatross ended in 1961, drawing a close to over a quarter century of amphibious airplane production on Long Island. Grumman continued designing and building exceptional carrier-based aircraft for the United States Navy, but the last F-14 Tomcat was delivered to the Navy in 1992. Grumman Aerospace merged with Northrop in 1994, and over the ensuring years design and manufacturing left Long Island for other states. The last Grumman-designed naval aircraft, the Northrop Grumman E-2 Hawkeye, remains in production at a site in St. Augustine, Florida.

With the gracious donation of N44RD, Reid Dennis has bestowed upon the Hiller Aviation Museum a special role preserving part of Roy Grumman’s legacy. On Saturday, May 4th, the Museum’s Albatross will be joined by seaplanes from across the western United States as part of a special Seaplane Adventure event. Don’t miss this opportunity to see Grumman and other seaplanes of all sizes and hear firsthand the stories behind these amazing aircraft.


Bill Gunston. Grumman, Sixty Years of Excellence, 1988
Mike Paull. Tales From the Sky Kitchen Café, 2011
Richard Thruelsen. The Grumman Story, 1976
Terry Treadwell. The Ironworks: A History of Grumman’s Fighting Airplanes, 1990


The Road Not Taken

In Uncategorized on January 3, 2013 by hillermuseum

Delta SST
The Quest for the Supersonic Transport

For some three quarters of a century, the development of powered flight was characterized by the relentless pursuit of speed. Wilbur and Orville Wright had to meet a speed goal to sell their Flyer to the United States Army in 1908. Glenn Curtiss became the toast of Europe by besting the legendary Louis Bleriot in a speed race on French soil at the world’s first air meet in 1909. In the First World War airplanes that we today would call fighters were instead known as “pursuit” planes to emphasize their ability to overtake slower aircraft in flight.

The time between the wars saw the awesome international engineering spectacle of the Schneider Trophy races, in which leading aircraft designers around the world competed for the glory of racing the world’s fastest aircraft. Between 1913 and 1931 the winning speed at the Schneider race rose from 46 to 340 miles per hour, reflecting the rapid evolution of both airframes and powerplants.

The fortunes of civil aviation also rose as airplane speeds reached ever higher plateaus. In the mid 1920s the Ford Trimotor was the epitome of airline travel, offering pedestrian transportation at a cruising speed of scarcely 80 knots—hardly faster than a train. By the mid 1930s air travel had more than doubled its pace, with the revolutionary Douglas DC-3 flying reliably at 180 knots. A decade later, DC-3s were joined in postwar skies by propeller-driven aircraft such as the Lockheed Constellation, which could fly nonstop across the country at nearly 300 knots.

By the end of World War II, propeller-driven aircraft had approached the ragged edge of performance, especially in large aircraft. The enormous wartime Boeing B-29 was powered by four huge Wright engines, each churning out nearly 200 times the power of the humble motor Charlie Taylor first built for the Wright Brothers in 1903—yet the aircraft’s engines had little margin for error, and failures were common. The post-war Constellation airliner had four engines of even greater power, but inflight shutdowns were so common that the craft was known to pilots and mechanics as the “world’s best tri-motor”. Fortunately, an entirely new propulsion technology had arrived, promising safer, more reliable, and even faster flight—the jet engine.

In July 1949, the world’s first jet-powered airliner took to the skies over Hertfordshire, England. The de Havilland DH 106 Comet represented an enormous leap in capability, not just for a nation that had seen the kite-like Vickers Vimy lumbering on in service scarcely a decade earlier, but for the entire world. Powered by four turbojet engines embedded in its wing roots, the Comet reprised the Vimy’s role linking Great Britain to the far-flung nations that sprang from her pre-war empire. The Comet’s cruising speed of 400 knots was faster than any propeller-powered transport. Ten years later the American Boeing 707 and Douglas DC-8 jetliners ruled the skies, crossing continents and oceans alike at eye-watering speeds exceeding 500 knots.

Much as the propeller-driven giants of the 1940s pushed up against the limits of engineering, the sleek jetliners of the 1960s quickly reached an aerodynamic limit—the speed of sound. Sound travels at roughly 770 miles per hour—some 650 knots—at sea level. The actual speed varies with both temperature and especially altitude, and hence high aircraft speeds are often described not in knots or miles per hour, but instead by their Mach number—the aircraft’s speed divided by the speed of sound where the aircraft is flying. The 707 and DC-8 regularly flew at eight tenths the speed of sound, or Mach 0.8. Faster flight would enter the transonic regime, with drag increasing exponentially and airflow changing dramatically as the speeding airframe met a shock composed of its own sound waves.

The first rocket-propelled research airplane achieved supersonic flight in 1947, and by 1960 the United States Air Force’s airline-sized Convair B-58 regularly flew at Mach 2.0. To many aircraft designers and airline executives, development of a supersonic jetliner clearly appeared to be the next step in an unending quest for speed.

Great Britain’s British Aircraft Corporation—a conglomerate of British aircraft makers that ultimately formed the core of today’s BAE—sought to regain an edge in aircraft design by leapfrogging to supersonic transports. Daunted by the expected development cost, the British government insisted on pursuing the project with an international partner. Despite some effort to engage the United States in this project, only France and its own national planemaker, Sud Aviation—today part of EADS, the parent organization of Airbus—wished to proceed. A treaty committing both France and Great Britain to construction of a supersonic airliner was signed in 1962. The airplane known as Concorde took its name from this agreement.

Taking to the sky for the first time in 1969, Concorde was indeed a technological marvel. Designed specifically for supersonic flight, Concorde’s design was unlike any previous airliner. Its small delta-shaped wing, long, tapered fuselage, drooping nose and lack of a horizontal stabilizer were utterly distinctive. Able to cruise over three hours at a speed just above Mach 2, Concorde had no competitor when it entered airline service with British Airways and Air France in 1976.

A few years earlier, however, Concorde’s shape was not quite so unique, and competition appeared to be at hand. The Soviet Union also initiated development of a supersonic jetliner in the 1960s, and the resulting Tupolev Tu-144 first few several months before Concorde. Although superficially similar to Concorde, the Tu-144 employed different engineering solutions to many of the challenges of supersonic flight. The Soviet airliner suffered through a difficult development period, including a catastrophic accident at the Paris Air Show in 1973. Although placed in limited passenger service for a brief period in the 1970s, the Tu-144’s range and reliability did not compare to the Anglo-French Concorde and it was relegated to mail flights and high speed research from the early 1980s.

In the United States, plans had been laid for supersonic civilian transports as early as the 1950s. As Concorde began to take shape in Europe, FAA Administrator Najeeb Halaby became a leading proponent of high speed airliners and ultimately prevailed upon President Kennedy to announce a national program to develop one in 1963. Boeing, Lockheed and North American Aviation all submitted proposals to build a supersonic transport, with Boeing ultimately being awarded a development contract at the end of 1966. Boeing’s original design was intended to travel at Mach 3 carrying over 200 passengers, compared to Concorde’s Mach 2 performance with no more than 100 passengers aboard. To reduce noise and fuel consumption during takeoff and landing, the original Boeing design would have used variable-geometry wings able to swing forward to permit low-speed takeoffs and landings, but also sweep rearwards for supersonic flight. Boeing used a number of internal designations for its SST (supersonic transport) project, but the public most identified it as the Boeing 2707.

As the design matured, the Boeing SST evolved into a simpler aircraft. The variable-geometry wings were abandoned in favor of a delta shape similar to Concorde’s. A full scale mockup was built at Boeing’s Seattle facilities in 1969, and construction of the first two prototypes began.

During the protracted development of the SST in America, public opposition began to rise due to a wide range of diverse issues. A number of environmental concerns were aired, particularly in regards to overland supersonic flight. Supersonic flight creates a shock wave felt and heard on Earth’s surface in the form of a sonic boom. Tests of large supersonic airplanes such as the enormous North American XB-70 over populated areas in the mid-1960s resulted in numerous complaints and damage claims for cracked windows and porcelain fixtures. Financial concerns regarding the high cost incurred by the United States in funding SST development rose as delays mounted, and potential airline customers became deeply skeptical that any supersonic transport would be economical to operate. The high speed of an SST would enable it to make more flights each day, but at the cost of burning enormously more fuel per flight compared to a subsonic airplane. When SST development began in earnest in the early 1960s the cost of jet fuel was a negligible operating expense for the airlines, but by 1970 prices had risen and supersonic flight became less economically compelling. Both houses of the US Congress voted to terminate funding of the supersonic transport in 1971.

The economic and environmental issues that ended the American SST project were in some ways more relevant to Concorde, which carried fewer passengers and had a larger noise footprint than the planned Boeing 2707. However, the treaty agreement signed by France and Great Britain in 1962 contained no provision for cancellation, and Concorde’s development continued. Although Concorde at one point held orders from many airlines for over 70 airplanes, nearly all orders were cancelled after fuel prices spiked dramatically in 1973. Only the national airlines of the two treaty nations ever operated Concorde with their own flight crews, and only 20 were built. After a long service history, both British Airways and Air France retired Concorde from service in 2003.

2003 was a watershed year in aviation, for it marked the first time since Orville Wright winged over the sands of Kitty Hawk one century earlier that the maximum speed of civil air transport decreased. The speed of the fastest commercial jetliner dropped from Mach 2.0 with Concorde to Mach 0.85 on the Boeing 747. Fuel efficiency has supplanted speed as the paramount concern after safety in commercial aviation. Today, Boeing and Airbus battle with each other to design and built new jets that are more fuel efficient than their competitor, not faster.

The legacy of supersonic flight resides at airports and air museums around the world. Three Concorde aircraft are displayed in the United States, and surviving examples of the Tupolev Tu-144 are found in Germany and through the former Soviet Union.

Neither Boeing 2707 prototype was completed before the program was cancelled in 1971. The only artifact to survive was the full-scale mockup, which was exhibited in Florida through the mid-1980s. The forward section of the SST mockup’s fuselage was acquired by the Hiller Aviation Museum during its foundational period and placed on display in San Carlos in 1998.

Next year, the Hiller Aviation Museum will bid adieu to this unique piece of aviation history. The SST will be removed from the Museum’s Gallery in mid-January to make way for new exhibits, and in mid-2013 it will be transferred to the Museum of Flight in Seattle, Washington, adjacent to William Boeing’s original aircraft factory. On Saturday, January 5th, the Museum will open the doors of the SST to the public one final time as part of its Open Cockpit Day event. Many changes are in store for the Hiller Aviation Museum in 2013, but we hope that you will join us for this final opportunity to experience the Boeing SST and hear an echo of the day when speed was king.

Kenneth Owen. Concorde and the Americans, 1997.
National Research Council. U.S. Supersonic Commercial Aircraft, 1997.


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