As names go, the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, an annex of the National Air and Space Museum, strikes me as being a bit long. More often than not I’ve heard it referred to as simply the Udvar-Hazy Center or the museum at Dulles International Airport.
Whatever you call it, go. Seriously, if you’ve got the slightest interest in aviation, aerospace, science, technology, engines, airframes, or big dreams — go.
I suspect most people who visit are casual observers of the history of human successes in aviation and space-faring adventures. On some level I fit into that category, too.
But I’m also an observer of the oddities and quirks of the human experience. I have a slightly different perspective when I walk through those glass doors, past the security team guarding the entrance, and down the vast open passageway that leads to a P-40 Warhawk hanging at eye level. The end of that walk also brings us to the stairs that allow visitors access to the main floor below.
For me this is the sanctuary of the impossible being addressed through imagination, escalated to experimentation, then expanded to regular production. This is where we can see historical evidence of concepts that were inconceivable transitioning into becoming downright pedestrian.
There’s nothing new in that massive hangar, but everything there blazed a trail, brought humanity to new heights, and built on the legacy of those who came before to push our species higher, farther, and with greater insight into the future.
Seriously. It’s a remarkable destination.
My buddies Pablo and Michael and I knew the facility opens at 10 a.m., but we arrived and were in line at the door by 9:30. You could say we were enthusiastic about our visit.
We started with the P-40 but moved as quickly as possible to the main floor where we found a smattering of early aircraft built of wood and fabric with engines so anemic and unreliable it was a wonder they could propel the aircraft forward at all. We found wings that are curved on the top and the bottom, essentially making them single surface affairs. The word “rudimentary” came to mind often.
The level of ignorance the designers and builders of these machines suffered from was monumental. So too for the pilots. Yet they designed and built and flew these machines. At great risk to life and limb, I might add.
Structural failures weren’t rare in the early days. Fabric had a tendency to depart the airframe at high speeds, leaving pilots to consider their brief future as they plummeted to the ground with little, if any, control over their aircraft.
But that’s the history of aviation and aerospace. Individuals pushing the limits of their own knowledge. Building new machines based on unproven theories. Flying beyond the known limits of the day to success or failure. Then the entire process begins again.
Imagine, build, test, repeat.
Speaking of plummeting to the ground, consider the peculiarly small, somewhat egg-shaped capsule labeled in big block letters, “Felix Baumgartner.” It’s hardly more than a seat inside a container that sports an enormous bubble window and twin handrails.
But can you imagine the feeling that might cause you to shudder if you were to move yourself from that spartan seat and hoist yourself onto the small step flanked by those handrails. Imagine yourself looking down 127,000 feet to the Earth below before stepping off to become a human missile accelerating toward terra firma at a frightening rate.
Geronimo to the nth degree!
One of the aircraft I most wanted to see is a relatively benign looking personal aircraft that was intended for business use. The Shrike Commander. This particular Shrike was flown by the legendary Bob Hoover in airshows all over the map. It is perhaps the aircraft Bob is most closely associated with.
It arrived at the then nearly empty Udvar-Hazy Center on Oct. 10, 2003. That flight originated not far from my home at the SUN ‘n FUN campus in Lakeland, Florida. Prior to departure Bob and his friend/mechanic/co-pilot Steve Clegg mixed and mingled with a small crowd of locals inside Hangar A before moving the aircraft outside, climbing in, and firing it up. I was there with my young daughters Nikki and Madison, as was Fox 13 reporter Ken Suarez, local publisher Jerry Rooks, and then president of SUN ‘n FUN John Burton.
The only thing about the Shrike that distinguishes it from any other sitting on the ramp is the myriad sponsor decals festooning the fuselage, and the name, “R.A. Bob Hoover,” running along the nose. Those details make it clear that this particular aircraft has lived a fascinating life. Right side up or upside down, with props turning or stopped dead, this airplane, with Bob Hoover at the controls, has awed and amazed pilots and aviation enthusiasts from every corner of the globe.
Oh yeah, it’s probably worth nothing that is sits directly beneath an Air France Concorde. F-BVFA looks as pristine today as it did the day it rolled off the assembly line. An esteemed supersonic passenger aircraft that provided regular intercontinental service for a quarter of a century.
Everything in this massive hangar was considered to be impossible until someone who didn’t respond well to established limitations proved otherwise. Whether in terms of the materials used, or the potential of the machinery, or the pilot inside it, everything in the collection represents the busting of barriers considered to be inviolate.
In that sense the Udvar-Hazy collection provides a glimpse into our own potential as individuals and as a society. A belief I suspect is fostered within the walls of this building as the young men and women who will colonize Mars walk about taking in the sights. They will do what we think is impossible, or idiotic, and they will prove us wrong.
Because this remarkable collection of hardware isn’t really about the aluminum, or cast iron, the carbon fiber, or stainless steel. It’s about setting the imagination free to think new thoughts, to blaze new trails, to lift our species higher than we believe we are capable of going.
Our own history suggests the future is far brighter than most of us imagine. Thank goodness those of us here today have had the chance to get just a glimpse of the possibilities and rub shoulders with those who will go so far beyond what we ever dreamed.
I have learned the technological products.Thank you very much.
We visited the Museum a few years ago and found it to be an amazing experience. Best, most complete Aviation Museum anywhere. No visit to Washington DC is complete without a visit there.
Great museum. I have been there. They will not see another Bob Hoover
I would one day like to visit the Udvar-Hazy Center. I would like to see again many of the craft which I had the great pleasure to see when they were stored in overcrowded warehouse buildings at Silver Hill nearly 40 years ago. To see the machines unrestored as the Smithsonian had received them was special indeed. Regardless of how well something is restored they are only ‘original” once.
Jamie, thank you for putting your spin on this wonderfully amazing sanctuary in the spotlight. I love this place and stand in awe whenever I’ve crossed its threshold, learning something new every time. It’s also neat is to watch the progress of the old resident aircraft from the Mall get spruced up in the Restoration Area, piece by piece. The restorers work their magic meticulously, piece by piece, so they can be displayed again in all their glory.
You are so right about the true exhibit that connects it all-the human ability to think outside the box and take that first step, and persevere with courage to the next level on the shoulders of the giants before us.
I would like to thank and acknowledge Steven Udvar-Hazy for his gift in bringing this facility to reality, Joe Suarez, who at the time spearheaded the NASM Society, and all who helped make the center a reality. The night before the opening for the Society, friends, and some press it was a horrific snow and ice storm. I drove down from Jersey, hoping my calculated timing would work to avoid the ice part of the storm. I was going come hell or high water. There was a 4 hour window where it would be mostly snow. Just as I got to my hotel door, literally, the ice began. In my room I wondered if the event would be postponed, so I called Tim Cronen, one of the team working on the details. At 8:30pm he said, “Oh yes, we’re still here setting up.” The next day with over 14” of snow and crusted ice, many of us ditch our dress attire for snow bunny suits, and worked our way over. Much to my surprise, literally thousands of invited guests showed up, all with that same drive and determination. I was all fired up to see everything they had to show. But there was something I never thought of that stopped me in my tracks because I was not prepared for it. There were those ordinary people with the extraordinary abilities there, who actually flew or were connected to the display aircraft. I watched their facial expressions in awe as no words were needed. Tears ran down some of their cheeks, bodies worn out from time, but the sparkle in their eyes and smiles blew me away enough so, that I had to walk up to one of them. I said, “This was your plane, wasn’t it?” He delicately whispered,”yes”, and the old man and his daughter were glad to share his story. It was a P38 Lightning. That day and the experience is etched in my mind and heart. Thanks again, Jamie! Best wishes to all in their own life journeys.
Hey Jamie
Susans response was so awesome I almost didn’t add mine BUT… Lisa and I had a day, back in 2016, between the unicycle fest in NYC and Triple Tree. It was Labor Day Monday and we had called ahead. The museum and archives were open. We spent one of the koolest days of my 76 years digging for a couple of diamonds in the archives. We were the only ones there and the staff tripped over themselves once we outlined our quests. We found ourselves reading THE typed ‘onion skin’ manuscript from Buck Weaver, later Sam Junkins wife describing her reflections of the company. We found info on KR and Fairchild. We never found the pictures we were hoping to find but the depth of history in there is just as incredible as the more obvious machinery in the hangar.