Spirit of St. Louis

Flight Journal, Apr 2001 by Patterson, Dan

As an aviation photographer, I specialize in capturing historical old flying machines on film, and I never tire of it. However, not once did I think I would be able to photograph the Spirit of St. Louis. In fact, I never thought I would be within touching distance of it, much less be given carte blanche to shoot it up close.

On October 31, 2000, Charles Lindbergh's historic machine was to be lowered from the ceiling in the National Air & Space Museum's "Milestones" gallery because the ongoing project of repairing the roof had finally come to the center gallery. Therefore, the tiny silver plane had to be lowered from its perch, but it was to be on the floor for only one day. Other than the museum's staff photographers, I was the only photographer permitted to shoot it. What a wonderful opportunity!

When you first approach it, you are astounded at how small it really is. Then, as you get a closer look at the cowl that surrounds the Wright Whirlwind engine with its texfined metal that reminds you of fish scales, you see that it has signatures scratched into its surface. The names come from Haiti and other remote locations where Lindbergh landed on a goodwill tour to South America. Most are dated 1928.

The cockpit where Lindbergh sat in a wicker seat for 33 hours is small. Knowing that there was no forward visibility does not diminish the surprise of how blank the space is where there would normally be a windshield. The fuel-tank plumbing below the instrument panel is a complex maze of pipes and petcocks. At the top right comer of the panel, the penciled notations that Lindbergh made to record his fuel uses and time elapsed are still there.

That night, the Spirit of St. Louis was hoisted back into the air once again, now in the west end of the museum, to be joined by the 1903 Wright Flyer. They will remain there until the roof repair is complete. Two days later, I photographed the original Wright brothers' airplane when it, too, was "on the floor" for just one day. It's not often a photographer has a week like that one!

-Dan Patterson

This page, upper left: the maze of plumbing and petcocks for fuel distribution from the various fuel tanks to the Spirit's lone engine must have kept Lindbergh on his toes for fear of moving the wrong one. Cowl shot: several of the "fish-scale-like" indents on the cowl have signatures from various well wishers that Lindbergh met after his famous trip. Many of them are dated 1928. The "NYP" on the rudder stands for New York to Paris. Next page, lower left: Lindbergh's meticulous attention to detail during the trip included monitoring his fuel use, and time and distance checks. He notated these checks in pencil on the upper right-hand portion of the Instrument panel.

While the famous Ryan was on the ground, it sat on a very ordinary set of wheels and tires. I found the more recognized set of wire wheels with large smooth rubber tires leaning against the wall behind the tailfin. I asked a museum restoration specialist, who was there to rehang the airplane, about the wheels. He told me that the real tires were so fragile and brittle that they would not support the weight of the plane.

Photographing the Spirit of St. Louis was made possible by the Smithsonian's National Air & Space Museum as part of

Its support for the book, "The Aviation Century," being prepared by Ron Dick and me. It will be published In April 2001. '