Tuesday, August 5, 2025

Forged by Vulcan | Part 6, When the Elephant in the Room Has Wings

"I put the blood of my life into this thing. I have my reputation rolled up in it, and I have stated that if it was a failure I probably will leave this country and never come back, and I mean it."

- Howard Hughes during the October 30, 1947 U.S. Senate hearing.

Perfect is the Enemy of Good

The elephant in the room.

In 1942, England found itself cut off from the rest of the world. Supply ships bound for the island nation from the United States were routinely intercepted and sunk by German U-boats prowling the Atlantic. That year alone, a combined total of 1,332 merchant and cargo ships were destroyed by German submarines. Needed troops, supplies, and war materiel failed to reach beleaguered England.

A simple question spawned an ambitious project. What if the ships had wings and avoided Nazi torpedoes by flying over them? This question led to a partnership between Henry Kaiser, a builder of those frequently-sunk Liberty ships, and fastidiously eccentric aviator Howard Hughes. Dubbed the HK-1 (for Hughes-Kaiser), a design was proposed for a monstrous high wing seaplane capable of hauling 150,000 pounds of cargo, 750 fully equipped troops, or two 30-ton M4 Sherman tanks.

However, Hughes' obsessive perfectionism caused delays and cost overruns. Frustrated, Kaiser pulled out of the partnership and the project was renamed the H-4 Hercules. The monster created by Hughes Aircraft designers was powered by eight Pratt & Whitney R-4360 Wasp Major 28-cylinder engines producing a combined total of 24,000 horsepower. With a wingspan of 320 feet, the Hercules had the longest wingspan -- greater than the length of a football field -- of any airplane built until Scaled Composites' Stratolaunch Roc first flew in 2019. It stood 79.1 feet tall -- roughly eight stories -- from keel to the top of the vertical stabilizer. Spanning 113.5 feet, the horizontal stabilizer alone exceeded the 103.75 foot wingspan of the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress. It remains the largest seaplane ever built.

It is also the largest wooden aircraft ever built due to constraints from the United States government. Because aluminum was a strategic material needed for the war effort, Hughes could not source it to build his Hercules prototype. Thus limited, he chose a high-tech birch plywood laminate produced through the Duramold process. Detractors christened the wooden airplane Spruce Goose, a name that Hughes absolutely loathed. Moreover, it was inaccurate, but Birch Bitch was insufficiently media-friendly for the 1940s.

As the project dragged on while Hughes prioritized perfection over expediency, World War II ended and the need for the Hercules evaporated. Plagued by cost and timeline overruns, Hughes poured his own money into the H-4 only to find himself called to Washington DC and accused of war profiteering and wasting taxpayer funds on a flightless boondoggle.

Thus beset, Hughes found himself at the controls of the H-4 Hercules on November 2, 1947 during a break in the Senate War Investigating Committee hearings. He announced that he only intended some high speed taxi tests. After completing two perfunctory runs, Hughes called for flaps and pushed the throttles farther forward for the third run. Surprising all onlookers, the airplane reached 90 mph and  Hughes coaxed it from the ocean's grasp to fly roughly one mile at an altitude of 25 to 70 feet averaging 135 mph. It was the first and last flight of the one-of-a-kind flying boat. 

For Hughes, it was vindication.

Photo of the H-4 Hercules in flight.

The Path to Evergreen

After its only flight in 1947, Hughes maintained the Hercules in a state of flight readiness within a climate-controlled hangar. Initially, the airplane was under the care of a 300 person staff, but the company reduced that headcount to 50 in 1962. After Hughes' death in 1976, the company that still bore his name sought to divest itself of the wooden albatross altogether and, at one point, considered parting it out to various museums. In 1980, the Aero Club of Southern California put the intact Hercules on display under a geodesic dome in Long Beach, CA. That facility was purchased by Disney in 1988 and, in 1991, the company announced that it no longer wished to display the Hercules. Michael King Smith of the Evergreen Aviation Museum submitted the winning proposal to build an entire museum around the Hercules, which is why the world's largest seaplane came to McMinnville, OR. It arrived in 1993 and, nine years later, the doors of the new Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum (EASM) opened to reveal the birch monstrosity wrought by Howard Hughes.

Silhouette


Arrivals at EASM are routed directly toward the glass wall of the West Pavilion through which the hulking silhouette of the Hercules glowers.


Once inside, the immensity of the Hercules has to be seen to be believed.


Conventional aircraft displayed nearby appear as toys by comparison.


Eight Pratt & Whitney R-4360 Wasp Major 28-cylinder radial engines dot the leading edges of the wings. They appear tiny relative to the bulk of the airplane, but the R-4360 itself is enormous. It is the largest displacement piston engine mass produced in the United States and the largest -- and final -- radial engine design from Pratt & Whitney. Just imagine the Hercules running up at full power, 224 pistons violently cycling in 224 cylinders fired by 448 spark plugs (2 per cylinder) to drive eight 17 foot diameter Hamilton Standard propellers with the 24,000 horsepower needed to drag Hughes' leviathan into the air. Don't even bother with noise abatement rules.

Supercharged variant of a Pratt & Whitney R-4360 on display at the Air Zoo. (Photographed 2013.)

By way of example, the above photograph shows the four banks of seven cylinders on a 28-cylinder P&W R-4360 Wasp Major. A supercharged model is pictured, upgraded from the Wasp Majors sported by the Hercules. Thus, the compressor assembly aft and below the "corncob" of cylinders in the photo is absent from the Hughes Flying Boat engines. To my mind, the mechanical complexity of radial engines is already astonishing, but when those engines consist of four rows of cylinders, they transcend exquisite engineering into something approaching art.


A recurring design element throughout the Hercules is fear of fire. That fear is reflected by the lengthy pylons thrusting (pun intended) the engines far away from the leading edges of the wooden wings.


The horizontal tailfeathers posses a wider span than the wings of a B-17 Flying Fortress, an impossible seeming statistic.


EASM visitors can enter the cargo hold of the Hercules through a pair of portals in the side of the fuselage. When passing inside, a cross section of the laminate Duramold skin is visible. No thicker than 1/4 inch by my estimation, the skin is composed of nine plies of thin birch wood and resin, the grains of each ply oriented differently to enhance the overall strength of the laminate.


I have seen a lot of aircraft emblazed with the word "experimental" over the years, but none of them were anything like the H-4 Hercules.

Embarkation


Museum visitors are prevented from exploring deeply into the Hercules by a glass enclosure in the cargo hold. They do get an exquisite view of the structure of the aircraft looking toward the tail. I paid the extra fee to receive a personalized tour of the flight deck and it was absolutely worth it.

Red cylinders of carbon dioxide gas are connected to an elaborately plumbed fire suppression system. Beachballs are an inexpensive means to add buoyancy to unoccupied compartments and the outboard floats near the wingtips.


Original blueprints called for a clamshell opening at the bow of the Hercules, but concern about keeping the cargo area watertight led Hughes to eliminate that from the prototype.


A narrow spiral staircase leads from the cargo hold to the flight deck.

From the Flight Deck


These windows along the port side of the flight deck were not original to the aircraft. They were added when the airplane was on display in Long Beach so tourists could peer into the Hercules. From inside, they provide an excellent vantage point to sight along the line of R-4360 Wasp Major engines. My ears hurt just imagining the sound that must have reverberated through the skin of the Hercules for anyone sitting in-line with those massive spinning propellers.

Hughes was hounded by skeptics over whether the wooden construction of the Hercules could withstand the strains of flight. The prototype was equipped with a significant amount of diagnostic equipment and stress/strain gauges to monitor for issues.



Still affixed with a Hughes Aircraft Co asset tag, a literal black box is present as a flight recorder.



In the aft portion of the cavernous flight deck, hatches provide access to the wing interiors. At eleven  feet "tall" at the thickest point, a grown adult can walk upright into the wings, even during flight. (In principle, considering that no one ever has.)


Those big radial engines mean an oil capacity measured in the tens of gallons. The large green tank just inside the wing root is an oil tank.


1940s electronics occupy the aft bulkhead of the flight deck.


A massive 139 gallon oil tank hangs in the aft port corner of the flight deck. I could not help but wonder about who dented that tank and how long ago it happened. A "whoopsie" for the ages.


A ladder extends through the ceiling of the flight deck for an observer to aid in maneuvering the flying boat in close confines.


I pointed at a crank lying atop this equipment compartment. "That looks like the hand crank for a starter on a Stearman," I noted.

"Close," responded the docent. This cabinet contained the Hercules' two auxiliary power units (APU), four cylinder horizontally opposed Franklin aircraft engines that assisted in starting the eight Pratt & Whitney R-4360s and powered generators that supplied electricity to run the ship's systems. The hand crank was used to start the Franklin APUs.

"Really?" I asked. "Just ordinary Franklin aircraft engines?"


We moved around to the side of the compartment where I could see for myself. The racket produced by the APUs running on the flight deck must have been a nuisance, but I suspect it would have been overwhelmed by the Pratt & Whitneys outside. On an aircraft as large as the Hercules, I probably should not have been surprised that an entire airplane engine would be used as a glorified starter motor.

The Front Office


Moving toward the bow, we passed additional testing equipment. The framed document is an FAA bill of sale showing transfer of the Hercules, tail number NX37602, to the museum.

Another quirk highlighted by the docent was the open pipe just aft of the pilot's seat in the upper right corner of frame. The Hercules has an extensive ventilation system intended to circulate air throughout the wooden structure. As a germaphobe, Hughes required that a portion of the freshest air, that taken directly from the outside, is passed to the pilot position first before anyone else can breathe it.


The radio operator's station came complete with an integrated morse code key. A hat reminiscent of Hughes' trademark fedora sits on the table (only partially in frame) as though Hughes himself had just set it down and walked away. I asked if it was actually one of his hats.

"No. We used to have one, but someone walked off with it."


Immediately forward of the radio operator's station is the cockpit itself on a raised platform. From outside, the breadth of the flying boat makes these windows seem tiny. But from within, the view is panoramic.


Due to the massive size of the control surfaces, they are actuated by hydraulic systems specifically invented for the Hercules. The joystick on the left was used to adjust trim. Eight numbered power levers stand proudly at the pilot's right hand, though without prop and mixture controls as part of the quadrant, they appear unusually streamlined.

"Where are the mixture and prop levers?" I asked the docent.

"I don't know. No one has ever asked me that before," he answered. I had stumped him with what seemed to me an obvious question. Perhaps those controls are at the engineer's station.

As I peered at the flight instruments, my hand clutching the left seatback for support, I realized that I was grasping the very seat from which Howard Hughes piloted the Hercules on its only flight. With that realization came a sense of awe and historical perspective. It also occurred to me that Hughes would have hated that my grubby hands were touching his seatback.


Controls for flaps and the hydraulic system are available to the pilot on the console next to the left seat.


Controls available to the right seat pilot are considerably more limited.


An overhead panel has toggles for exterior lights and a number of fire warning annunciators for individual engines, fuel tanks, and other high risk locations within the Hercules. Curiously, one switch is marked "flare release". I cannot fathom what purpose the Hercules would have to launch flares unless they were part of a distress signal. Even so, one would hope that any flares launched would fly well away from the wooden airframe before igniting.



Aft of the right seat stands the impressive engineer's station.


This massive vertical console displays all available engine data in columns, one for each of the eight Pratt & Whitneys.


Though the airplane is a prototype, a coffee station was evidently considered to be critical equipment.


I first learned that the Hercules was on display at the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum in the early 2000s as a student pilot raptly devouring AOPA magazines. I waited over two decades to finally see the Hughes Flying Boat in the cellulosic flesh. Standing on the flight deck was a literal dream come true for me.


In summary, a visit to EASM was a minor detour on the four hour trek back to Portland, but very worthwhile. EASM is an incredible museum housed in one of the most beautiful facilities for the display of aircraft that I have ever visited. That the museum was a labor of love for prime mover Michael King Smith is undeniable, it shows in every aspect of the facility. But what most differentiates this place is the hulking presence of the Hercules, truly an engineering wonder of the aeronautical world.

Hercules in Miniature

My first significant exposure to Howard Hughes and the H-4 Hercules came from the excellent 2004 Scorsese film, The Aviator. EASM displays a miniature set used in the movie that depicted the Hercules under construction. In rewatching the film, it was evident where this miniature was used, presented with actors in the foreground and dimly lit with sparks flashing vaguely in the background. A true cinematic treasure captured alongside the genuine article.



Wrap Up

August 5 was our last full day in Oregon. From ESAM, we drove the remaining hour back to Portland and departed early the next morning on eastbound flights. When people ask where we went on vacation, a common response to my answer of "Oregon" is "why?" Our wonderful trip featured the stunning Crater Lake National Park, exploration of volcanic landscapes east of the Cascades including lava fields and cinder cones, mountains, waterfalls, raptors of the high desert, observation of the heavens and beyond (surely, seeing another galaxy counts as beyond!), and an aviator's bucket list item of exploring the infamous Spruce Goose flight deck. Need I say more?

Forged by Vulcan | Part 5, Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum

"Wherever there was a hot spot in the world, Evergreen’s helicopters and later airplanes were never far behind. Evergreen’s hardware was so inextricably linked with political intrigue that rumors swirled that the company was owned by, or a front for, the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). Indeed, several of the company’s senior executives either worked for the agency or had close ties to it."

- Mark Huber, "Evergreen's Del Smith Dead at 84," Aviation International News, 7 Dec 2014.

 CIA Ties

Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum (EASM) was the brainchild of Michael King Smith, former Air Force F-15 pilot and son of Del Smith, the founder of McMinnville, OR Evergreen Aviation International. The company was a charter / cargo outfit whose distinctive logo was emblazoned on Boeing 747 cargo aircraft found on ramps literally all around the world. The museum started as a small assortment of private airplanes at Evergreen Aviation International headquarters and has since grown into a premier aviation collection housed in a stunningly beautiful facility with -- curiously -- an adjacent, aviation-themed waterpark. It is not every day that one encounters a building topped by an actual 747 complete with integrated waterslide.

After decades of debt-fueled growth, tax investigations, and accusations of being a CIA front, Evergreen Aviation International declared bankruptcy at the end of 2013 and shut down. Since then, EASM survived two additional bankruptcies under post-Evergreen Aviation landlords and was rescued by philanthropic aviation enthusiast Bill Stoller. EASM continues to operate today under the direction of a non-profit organization. Despite its location in relatively remote McMinnville, EASM has a reputation as a world class institution and has been on my bucket list for the better part of two decades (more on that in the next post).

Dueling Pavilions

After a beautiful three hour drive from Bend over and through the Cascade Mountains, we arrived in McMinnville around midday. We sated our appetites with some genuinely good New York-style pizza at Geraldi's before arriving at the museum.

EASM West Pavilion.

F-100 Super Sabre at the EASM West Pavilion.

From the moment we turned onto a main entrance road striped like a runway, ESAM was immediately impressive. The facility is stunning, a modern take on A-frame construction fashioned in warm earth tones with extensive glass panels allowing natural light to flood the space. The EASM campus consists of three architecturally congruent buildings: a West Pavilion featuring piston aircraft, an East Pavilion focused on modern jet aircraft and space exploration, and a third building hosting a large movie theater.


Next door, but not included in EASM admission, is the Wings & Waves Waterpark complete with rooftop 747 waterslide. 

Photo by The Bear.

After many years of being on my aviation museum radar, I was thrilled to finally arrive at the EASM! I wore my favorite airplane shirt from a defunct airport diner (Waco Kitchen, Battle Creek, MI -- RIP) just for the occasion.



A golf cart dressed up as a "pavement only" space shuttle made for an interesting first opinion. Surely, any reproduction aircraft in the collection would be more convincingly impressive than this.

From the Very Beginning


Front and center is a replica of the Wright Brothers 1903 Flyer that made history at Kill Devil Hills, NC. With the wild blue yonder visible behind it, the EASM presentation of the Flyer is stunning, though having seen the actual Flyer just three weeks earlier, even an authentic replica passed without much attention from us. Sure, it was an "airplane with no wheels", but it was not the "airplane with no wheels". (To paraphrase The Bear when she was very small.)

Replica Curtiss JN-4A Jenny.

Replica Curtiss JN-4A Jenny.

Replica Curtiss JN-4A Jenny.

Replica Curtiss JN-4A Jenny.

A skinless replica Curtiss JN-4A "Jenny" provides guests with insights into how wood and fabric aircraft were constructed during the first quarter of the 20th century. The Jenny was one of the earliest mass produced American aircraft and responsible for training most US airmen to fly during World War I.

1916 De Havilland DH-4 Liberty.

Adapted for American use during World War I, the De Havilland DH-4 Liberty's nickname of "Flaming Coffin" is rather poor commentary on its military effectiveness. This particular aircraft was once flown by famous Hollywood stunt pilot Paul Mantz in films such as Men with Wings, Task Force, Court Martial of Billy Mitchell, and The Spirit of St Louis starring Jimmy Stewart.

1916 De Havilland DH-4 Liberty.

This huge grill conceals a Liberty V12 engine tucked away more discreetly than in many other aircraft designs of the era.

1929 Curtiss Model 51 Fledgling.

1929 Curtiss Model 51 Fledgling.

I discovered an aircraft type that I did not know existed. This is surprising considering that it originates with a prominent figure in aviation history like Glenn Curtiss. The Curtiss Model 51 Fledgling (or N2C to the Navy) was designed in 1927 as a tandem biplane primary trainer for Naval cadets ("fledglings"). It was intended to replace aging Curtiss Jenny primary trainers that were still in use. The restored aircraft on display at EASM is a 1929 model and painted in the distinctive orange and yellow colors of Curtiss' air taxi service where it stands beside a similarly attired Curtiss Robin.

Curtiss Robin.

Piper J-3 Cub.

It is always wonderful to see a charming yellow J-3 Cub flying the indoor skies so far away from Lock Haven, PA.

Naval Aircraft Factory N23N Canary.

World War II Naval trainers were painted yellow for high visibility. Although the official name of  "Canary" is fitting given the color scheme, these aircraft were more often called "Yellow Peril", which just might be even more fitting considering who flew them.


Although the N3N was specifically built as a WWII trainer, the airplane most recognized for training American pilots during WWII was the Boeing PT-17 Kaydet, more colloquially known as a "Stearman" in honor of its designer. This particular Stearman has long since shed its military trainer paint scheme in favor of something sportier.

North American SNJ Naval Advanced Trainer.

The North American SNJ (a Naval version of the T-6 Texan) was the ultimate trainer and as close to an actual fighter plane as a cadet could get while still flying with an instructor.

Grumman G-21A Goose.

During the 1930s and '40s, the Grumman Ironworks produced a series of amphibious seaplanes of different sizes, from the diminutive G-44 Widgeon with twin horizontally opposed engines (in which I have some stick time courtesy of my friend Barry) to progressively larger airframes with twin radial engines: the G-21 Goose, the G-73 Mallard, and the largest of the family, G-64 Albatross. Pictured here is an example of Grumman's first offering, the Goose.

Grumman G-21A Goose.

I have a special place in my heart for the Grumman Goose because of a bad TV show from the 1980s that I absolutely loved as a kid, Tales of the Gold Monkey. (How do I know it was bad? I watched an episode on YouTube recently. Great concept. Awful writing.) There was a time that every Goose sighting would cause me to wonder if it was Cutter's Goose from the show.

Grumman G-21A Goose.

But I need wonder no more as I have seen Cutter's Goose on display at the Cradle of Aviation Museum on Long Island near to where the Grumman factory that produced it once stood.

Beechcraft D-17A Staggerwing.

The Beech Model 17 "Staggerwing" remains my favorite general aviation airplane of all time. Walter Beech specifically broke away from Travel Air and formed his own company to build this elegant airplane at a time when his partner Clyde Cessna wanted to focus on monoplanes.

Before the Bee Gees, There Were the Granville Brothers

The Granville Brothers built a series of well-known racing planes in the 1930s broadly known as Gee Bees. Their most well-known aircraft was the R-1, a short-coupled, rotund aircraft with stubby wings that was more engine than anything else. While Jimmy Doolittle flew the R-1 to victory in the 1932 Thompson Race, the airplanes were notoriously difficult to fly and land safely.

1987 Gee Bee Model E Sportster replica.

The Granville Brothers took design cues for the R-1 from a predecessor aircraft called the Model E Sportster. To my eye, it is more aesthetically elegant than the flying barrel that was the R-1 with its lithe fuselage, speed ring cowling, and forward thrust landing gear reminiscent of a raptor alighting with talons outstretched.

1987 Gee Bee Model E Sportster replica.

A placard accompanying the Model E at EASM provides a pointedly blunt summary of the Gee Bee designs. "Most of the Granville aircraft, including the Model E, had a history of crashing that ended in some catastrophe or another killing many pilots in the process, including Zanford Granville, who died in 1934 after attempting to land after an engine failure."

I guess the Bee Gees were better at stayin' alive than the Gee Bees.

A Nod to Early Commercial Aviation


As a docent at the Air Zoo, I used to present the Ford Tri-Motor in the context of this hybrid rail by night / fly by day scheme for transcontinental travel. It was an innovative means for rapid transportation, but undoubtedly grueling for passengers.

Douglas DC-3.

Per EASM, this workhorse DC-3 is the second oldest surviving example of the breed and has the highest number of commercial flight hours compared to all others. It even served in the military during World War II like the militarized C-47 variant at right of frame. The DC-3 was the most successful airliner of its day and arguably one of the most successful aircraft designs of all time in terms of its utility and longevity.

Douglas DC-3

Despite a stint in the military, this DC-3 is configured for airline travel.

Douglas DC-3

It is not clear how recently this DC-3 was in active service, but those avionics were not standard issue when this Gooney Bird rolled off the production line and clearly represent a modernization of the instrument panel. I fail to understand why anyone would put a CDI down by the pilot's knee when there is open real estate in the upper part of the panel.

The Douglas C-47 seen from the Douglas DC-3

As seen from the DC-3's flight deck, its military C-47 sibling is undergoing restoration nearby.

Things That Go RAAAAAWRR!

EASM has a wonderful section dedicated to aviation engines and the usual suspects are among them. In addition to those, a couple of others caught my eye.


As a living, breathing product of metropolitan Detroit, I was immediately grabbed by the word "Chevrolet". The Turbo-Air 6 was a lightweight, air-cooled engine originally designed for use in the Corvair, but found popularity with homebuilders who adapted it for aviation use. 


The Salmson 9AD was a French built 45 horsepower radial engine from the 1930s that powered various European lightweight aircraft. It was not produced prolifically, with only about 200 built. I photographed this one because I liked its (mostly) symmetric aesthetic.

Under Restoration

A section of the West Pavilion is dedicated to aircraft restoration in full view of museum patrons.

Beechcraft C-45H Expeditor.

A Beechcraft C-45H Expeditor is under restoration near the back wall of the museum. The Expeditor was a military version of the elegant Beech Model 18 twin with the H-variant being the final and most refined iteration introduced during the 1950s.

Beechcraft C-45H Expeditor.

My friend Ray who owns the Le Roy Airport (5G0) speaks fondly of his days running car parts into the Pontiac Airport (now, Oakland County International, KPTK) in a Beech 18. The -18 was his favorite airplane to fly.

Douglas C-47.

Appropriately painted with Normandy stripes, the museum's Douglas C-47 is also undergoing restoration. During World War II, these airplanes were haulers of people and materiel, literal jumping off points for paratroopers, and tow planes for WACO-designed cargo gliders. The militarized version of Douglas' capable DC-3 airliner, the C-47 was one of five vehicles that Dwight Eisenhower believed helped win the war for the Allies.

Engines waiting patiently for mounting to the C-47.

1943 Consolidated PBY-5A Catalina.

The final major restoration project occurring in the West Pavilion was this amphibious PBY Catalina, designed as a maritime patrol and anti-submarine aircraft (where PB = patrol bomber).

1943 Consolidated PBY-5A Catalina.

This particular aircraft was built under license in Canada as a Vickers Canso -- named for a port town in Nova Scotia -- and served with the Eastern Air Command based at Rockcliffe, the former military field in Ottawa where I landed in 2023 to visit the Canada Aviation and Space Museum. 

Adversary Aircraft

Focke-Wulf 190 replica.

While only a replica, this full scale Focke-Wulf 190 captures the rangy, deadly aspect of this capable German World War II fighter, the only one to use a radial engine. Famously, an FW-190 was stolen by American fighter pilot Bob Hoover after escaping a German POW camp and flown back to Allied territory. Hoover, of course, went on to become one of America's premier aerobatic pilots.

Messerschmidt Me-262 Schwalbe reproduction.

Perhaps one of the most important aircraft developments of World War II came from Nazi Germany, the Me-262, the world's first operational jet fighter. This reproduction was one of five built by Legend Flyers of Everett, WA using materials and manufacturing techniques so true to the original that Messerschmitt assigned them Werke numbers in sequence as though they were the last five aircraft off of the original manufacturing line.

MiG Alley

The Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum has five examples of various Mikoyan Gurevich Design Bureau (MiG, now just known as Mikoyan) jet fighter aircraft.

MiG-15 UTI (NATO: Fagot, which caused far too many adolescent giggles on tours at the Air Zoo; great job, NATO).

The MiG-15 was the first Soviet swept-wing jet fighter, a contemporary and adversary of the North American F-86 Sabre. First flight of the MiG-15 took place in December 1947. Despite sounding like a personal problem, the UTI variant was a two seat trainer version. This particular MiG-15 UTI was built in China at the Shenyang Aircraft Factory that honed their MiG knowledge by fixing hundreds of battle damaged Soviet MiGs.

MiG-17 (NATO: Fresco).

MiG-17 (NATO: Fresco).

At first glance, the MiG-17 is difficult to differentiate from the MiG-15. The -17 takes some significant design cues from its predecessor, but features a longer fuselage, greater wing sweep, and three stall fences per wing versus the MiG-15's two.  Stall fences (also called wing fences) are a brute force approach to ensuring that airflow is directed over the wing chordwise rather than moving unproductively spanwise on a swept wing. (Bad things happen aerodynamically when the air moves spanwise, like loss of control.) MiG-17s entered service in 1952 and are reportedly still in limited use by North Korea.

MiG-21 (NATO: Fishbed).

I was always fond of the MiG-21, a delta-winged Mach 2 interceptor in service since 1959. Despite its sleek good looks, it was also known as the "flying coffin" for being hard to handle. Fuel endurance was reportedly only 45 minutes owing to a combination of thirsty engine, small internal fuel tank, and placement of that tank ahead of the center of gravity that led to an out of envelope condition if fuel was burned down too low. So...plusses and minuses.

MiG-23 (NATO: Flogger).

A third generation fighter, the MiG-23 was a more capable update to the MiG-21 and a significant design departure from its predecessor. It featured variable geometry wings (like the F-14), was the first MiG with a look-down/shoot-down radar system, and it carried missiles that could intercept targets outside of visual range. MiG-23s entered service in 1970.

MiG-29 (NATO: Fulcrum).

Finally, relegated to outdoor storage due to limited interior display space, I found a MiG-29. First flown in 1977, it entered service in 1983 and is still in use by various former Soviet nations. The MiG-29 was the Soviet answer to American F-15 and F-16 fighters.

But what about the legendary MiG-28 featured in Top Gun? That critical aircraft seemed to be missing...

Turbine Powered

North American FJ-3 Fury.

One of only a few surviving FJ-3 Fury aircraft (another is on the Intrepid in NYC), this is a Naval variant of the famous Cold War F-86 Sabre that features strengthened landing gear, a tail hook, and folding wings to enable carrier operations.

Republic F-84F Thunderstreak.

The F-84F Thunderstreak was a faster, sweep-winged update to the original straight-winged F-84 Thunderjet. A photorecon variant of the -84F was cleverly dubbed the Thunderflash. It serves as a principal character in Richard Bach's memoir of flying for the National Guard in which he evocatively describes bringing this beast of an airplane to life.

"There is no time to take a breath or blink the eye. There is one tiny tenth-second hiss before concussion shatters the icy air. Suddenly, instantly, air and sparks and Jet Propellant Four. My airplane is designed to start with an explosion. It can be started in no other way. But the sound is a keg of black powder under the match, a cannon firing, the burst of a hand grenade. The man outside blinks painfully. 
 
With the blast, as though with suddenly opened eyes, my airplane is alive. Instantly awake. The thunderclap is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a quiet rising whine that peaks quickly, very high, and slides back down the scale into nothingness. But before the whine is gone, deep inside the engine, combustion chambers have earned their name. The luminous white pointer  of the gage marked exhaust gas temperature pivots upward, lifting as thermocouples taste a swirling flood of yellow fire that twists from fourteen stainless steel chambers. The fire spins a turbine. The turbine spins a compressor. The compressor crushes fuel and air for the fire. Weak yellow flames change to businesslike blue torches held in their separate round offices, and the ghostly power unit is needed no more."

- Richard Bach, Stranger to the Ground

Republic F-84F Thunderstreak.

Grumman F-14 Tomcat.

Grumman F-14 Tomcat.

Maybe it is because of seeing Top Gun at an impressionable age, but I have always considered the F-14 Tomcat to be the best looking jet fighter ever conceived. (I was star struck years ago as an Air Zoo docent when one of my listeners credibly revealed that he designed a portion of the Tomcat.) It was the last 'cat produced by Grumman, first flying on December 21, 1970 and entering service in 1973. Performance in different flight envelopes was optimized by changing the wing sweep and when fully swept back, the Tomcat could climb vertically on thrust alone. The Tomcat was designed around the Phoenix missile system that could track twenty-four targets with radar while launching missiles against six; impressive for the technology of the time. Not just good looking, the Tomcat was a capable air superiority fighter with a service history spanning over 30 years (1973-2006).

McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle.

With its twin tail and twin engine design, the F-15 bears a passing resemblance to the F-14 Tomcat. The F-15 entered service in 1976 and remains active with the Air National Guard. The Bear and I encountered one in flight -- callsign Polecat 2 -- near the Adirondacks while returning from the Alton Bay Ice Runway earlier this year.

From the Skunk Works

Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

In aviation circles, the SR-71 Blackbird needs little introduction. Despite being designed on slide rules in the 1960s, it still holds the record for absolute speed (2,193 mph - literally faster than most speeding bullets) and altitude (85,000 feet) set for manned, air-breathing aircraft. As successor to the U2 surveillance airplane, the SR-71 prowled the world's upper atmosphere with absolute impunity, untouchable by virtue of speed and altitude.

Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

EASM's display of the engine is clever, both showcasing the novel J-58 engines while also demonstrating how they are incorporated into the wing nacelles.

Lockheed D-21 Drone.

In an idea swiped directly from the drafting table of Wile E. Coyote himself, project Tagboard envisioned an unmanned surveillance drone (D-21, "D" for daughter) launched from the back of a modified A-12 Blackbird (forerunner to the SR-71) redesignated M-21 ("M" for mother). The program was plagued by operational issues that culminated in a collision between drone and mothership in 1966 that destroyed both aircraft. Only one of the two man crew of the Blackbird survived bailout over the ocean.

Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk.

An example of the world's first truly stealth aircraft, the Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk, is still undergoing restoration at EASM. As chronicled in the fascinating Skunk Works by Ben Rich, the unusual faceted arrowhead shape of the F-117 -- nicknamed the "Hopeless Diamond" by its designer -- achieved stealth by preventing reflection of radar energy back to the receiver.

I have written previously about the development of the F-117 Nighthawk in connection with my opportunity to assist in restoration of one at the Air Zoo. Interested readers should refer to that post for more details. 

Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk.

This Nighthawk was evidently named Lone Wolf.

Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk.

Both the radar absorbing paint as well as fiberglass leading edges packed with a metal particle impregnated foam to diffuse incident radar energy are considered military secrets. Thus, the demilitarized airplane was presented to EASM after sandblasting and removal of those leading edge fairings. A key challenge in the restoration of the Nighthawk for the Air Zoo was restoring those leading edge skins in the proper geometry without an authentic example or blueprint to go by. This will undoubtedly be a challenge for EASM as well.

Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk.

Rocket Pieces!

Titan IV rocket.

Titan IV rocket.

Titan IV rocket.

Titan IV rocket.

Titan IV rocket.

A Titan IV rocket is displayed on its side at EASM with the stages separated. These rockets were used from 1989 to 2005 to launch payloads into orbit such as the Cassini-Huygens probes in 1997. Termed CELVs (complementary expendable launch vehicles), they were used to augment what the space shuttle could haul into orbit.

Out Back


The Evergreen museum so overflows with artifacts that some of their treasures are on display outside.

1964 North American Sabreliner 50.

I first encountered a North American Sabreliner business jet in the wild circa 2018 when a ground controller at Oakland County International instructed one to yield the right of way to me. "But I'm bigger and prettier," whined the Sabreliner pilot. Perhaps he was being facetious?

Like many of the aircraft in the EASM back lot, this Sabreliner was presented without any identification or description. It was only later that I learned why this example -- uglier than most -- was special. N50CR served as an avionics test bed for Rockwell Collins from 1976 to 2013. The CR in the registration number stands for both Collins Radio and Cedar Rapids, where Collins was based. This explains the unusually large schnoz on the airplane that would have contained various iterations of experimental shipborne radar installations. This aircraft was used to develop the first Mode-S transponder system and Collins' Pro Line 4 avionics system among many others. Despite these accomplishments, it was described as "the world's ugliest airplane" in a 2013 Flying article.

Beechcraft Starship.

My dad and I flew to the Beechcraft Heritage Museum in 2017, but unfortunately missed seeing the cutting edge -- if commercially unsuccessful -- Beechcraft Starship on display because of a building closure. I had no idea that eight years would go by before finally seeing my first Beechcraft Starship at EASM. When Beechcraft determined that these aircraft were not commercially viable and would present future maintenance challenges, they began scrapping the fleet by sending them to the Evergreen Air Center for destruction. I wonder how one of them happened to show up at EASM?

Modified Grumman Gulfstream II, Shuttle Training Aircraft (STA).

Modified Grumman Gulfstream II, Shuttle Training Aircraft (STA).

A first clue that this Gulfstream II is not a run of the mill bizjet is a NASA logo emblazoned on the tail. N947NA was used as an advanced trainer by shuttle pilots to learn how to manage the absurdly steep glide profile of the shuttle upon reentry and landing. Unpowered in atmosphere, every approach needed to result in a successful landing; there was no going around. The modified Gulfstream, complete with cockpit controls and instruments simulating those of the shuttle orbiter, was flown to 37,000 feet and glided back to either the Shuttle Landing Facility in Florida or the White Sands Space Harbor. To achieve the steep, brick-like, descent profile of the shuttle, the main gear of the STA were extended and thrust reversers deployed. Flaps could be deflected upward to decrease lift on the wing. Reportedly, every shuttle mission commander and pilot logged at least 1,000 practice landings in the STA. Four Gulfstream II aircraft were altered to become STAs.

North American T-28 Trojan.

Given the paint scheme, I assume that this was one of the original aircraft in the Evergreen corporate collection that seeded the museum. The T-28 was a piston-driven trainer developed during the transition from piston fighters to jets. It featured tricycle gear and a thinner wing to better emulate jet behavior for student pilots. I had the good fortune to fly in a T-28 in 2003.

Northrup F-89 Scorpion.

Northrup F-89 Scorpion.

As the first jet interceptor to enter service, the Northrup F-89 Scorpion was in use from 1950 to 1569. It is named for its high T-tail.

MiG-28? (Northrup F-5 Tiger).

I finally found it! The mystical, nonexistent MiG-28, the fictional adversary from the original Top Gun film (before a secondary, colon delimited title became necessary). No MiG-28 fighter existed in the real world (MiG only used odd numbers for their fighter designs) and the fictionalized aircraft were portrayed by Northrup F-5 Tigers in the film. I came face to "face" with one of the actual Top Gun Tigers just two weeks later.

The Elephant in the Room


It is impossible to talk about the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum without addressing the literal elephant in the room that is so poorly hidden in some of the prior photos of this post: this homebuilt Pietenpol Air Camper! (Kidding.)

In all seriousness, the elephant is the eight-engine wooden behemoth with a gridiron length wingspan behind the Pietenpol, the singular Hughes H-4 Hercules better known to the world as the Spruce Goose. It is the airplane around which the museum was truly built and the reason why an EASM visit while in Oregon was a personal imperative for me. The Spruce Goose will get its own post because it is simply too large to fit into this one.