Shadows Of The Past - preservation of Air Force documentary footage

Quietly, behind the scenes, heroes of history salvage fragments of the past for the next generation of aviation buffs.

Once the well-worn aircraft receives its canvas "skin," the average visitors to the museum aren't likely to notice her hardwood "skeleton" frame has been carefully sanded and varnished. They may not even recognize her markings were repainted in the exact colors of years ago. And only those who daily took pride in caring for her will notice she looks fresher than the day she first landed on their flightline.

Although it's a significant factor, the painstaking work isn't the only thing that breathes life into history at the U.S. Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio. Nearly 500 employees and volunteers are never seen by the 1.2 million people who visit the museum annually.

From the film

A handful of these caretakers are the keepers of historical film. Researchers wearing white, cotton gloves -- used to keep oils from "eating away" at photo emulsion -- analyze more than 400,000 images in search of the perfect scenes to revive.

Those pieces of the historical puzzle sit secure in a cool, dry, climate-controlled room. They are memory books full of snapshots that capture the essence of eras and spirits of aviators. But there's more to these images than proud pilots posed beside pin-up painted plane noses. They are vital to establishing a timeline.

However, almost all images are black and white. This adds another dimension to the layers of detail. Researchers scour the countless written words in thousands of historical documents, personal journals and letters hoping for precious adjectives to "paint" the rusted relics.

A 10-person exhibit committee meets periodically to discuss exhibits and select what will go on display. At first glance, it doesn't seem too difficult to determine what visitors will see. But when you're talking about moving a monolith like the B-52 to make room for an exhibit, no measurement or detail can be overlooked.

Once a "scene" is selected as a potential exhibit, employees and volunteers in dusty back rooms and hangars draw exhibit plans, refurbish aircraft parts, and read translation books to decipher foreign aircraft plans.

Then a diorama, constructed to 1:48 scale, helps develop the preliminary idea. Artisans position miniature versions of the artifacts against a historically accurate backdrop. It takes months to create the tabletop-size scene. The exhibit committee accumulates research data on countless specifics like period clothing, area vegetation, music of the era, construction material and budget estimates. Every possible detail from the past and present is examined to determine how the scene becomes a three-dimensional snapshot of yesteryear on the museum floor.

"What's viewed by the public is really where the excitement is at," Terry Aitken, senior museum curator, admits. "Everything 'behind' that is what makes your head hurt."

In the meantime, the restoration continues. Quietly, craftsmen resuscitate the plane and its rusty metal scraps, making aviation of the past real for those who remember the "good 'ole days" and their grandchildren.

After several months -- or even years -- the museum finally shares the materialized, scrapbook experience with visitors. This oversimplified version of bringing an exhibit to fruition doesn't illustrate the thousands of hours invested in a display the public enjoys for a few short minutes as they wander the museum's thousands of square feet.

Rise and shine

But the work doesn't bother employees like Lindsey Edwards. Ironically, Edwards, an exhibit specialist and the museum's theatrical lighting design expert, spends his days in a dimly lit room. He explores and creates dynamic lighting situations. His mission is to ensure light creates drama and leads visitors to the focal point of displays. He analyzes angles, shadows, intensities, distance and power to create a mood.

However, there's more to lighting the museum than art. Science also plays a major role. In a gallery of leather aviator jackets, 14 fluorescent lights were replaced with four fiber optic "projectors." Although the old bulbs caused minor damage, the updated light source protects the jackets from further, irreparable deterioration.

"When we took off the outer jacket on one of the mannequins, a green shirt underneath the jacket was bleached white, in a 'V,' where it was exposed to the fluorescent light," Edwards said.

Not only do fiber optics assist with the preservation problem, they also double as energy savers. A 150-watt light bulb can illuminate 32 to 52 objects, where one fluorescent fixture lights one object, according to Edwards. This has saved the museum considerable operating costs over the past few years.

While he works to find the best lighting, 20-pound foam and conduit mannequins observe. They stand like awkwardly aligned troops in their gray velour "uniforms" with lifelike latex heads. Patiently they wait their turn to march into the museum and do their part as the motionless warriors of yesteryear. When the time is right, Edwards will dress them for a scene and bend them into realistic positions. Although it seems like a grown-up version of playing "dress-up," Edwards takes his job seriously.

"I try to get the characters posed as if they are interacting with one another," he said. "We try to make the scenes as realistic as we possibly can."

He's renowned within the museum staff for his interactions with exhibits, often taking photographs of himself holding a wrench to an engine or stooping to fix a tire, to capture the reality of a position. Since some of the mannequins have to be custom ordered in permanent poses, precision is essential to depicting reality.

"You can't fool kids; they'll let you know when something looks fake," he said. When kids think the scene looks real, he knows he's done his job.

Keeping the real stuff looking good is Scott Ferguson's job. As curator of collections, Ferguson maintains a mothball-scented storage room, just smaller than the size of a tennis court. The room is home to thousands of precious artifacts and countless memories. All of the items are given a comfortable home in drawers lined with acid-free tissue paper.

History's mark

Ferguson does what he can to keep the items preserved in the 65- to 72-degree room, but sometimes history leaves marks on the prized pieces. Several white Air Force mess dress uniforms were donated and stored too late to prevent the yellowing of age from settling in.

And aviator jackets showed signs of age with wrinkles of "red rot," -- the dust that gathers when leather fibers break down. Every two years the leather items are cleaned with saddle soap to keep the fibers in shape and flexible. Each day these treasures spent in someone's closet makes Ferguson's job of preserving them a little more challenging.

Like a child exploring his grandmother's attic, it's obvious Ferguson enjoys what he's been paid to do for 13 years.

"Here it's like Christmas everyday. I'm surrounded by history. This is the oldest, largest, military aviation museum in the world. There's nowhere else but down to go professionally," he said.

At the Air Force Museum, admiration and preservation of the past is all about creating an environment to transport the observer.

"We surround aircraft with people to tell 'real people' stories," Aitken said. "We take our visitors and start them at a reference point in time, leading them from the past to the future."

Part of that timeline involves recreating pieces that aren't available. But authenticity is always the goal, and the craftsmen at the museum are experts at producing. Visitors sometimes have difficulty determining what's real and what's reproduced when they wander the hangars.

"We create illusions," Doug Campbell, chief of the exhibits division, said as he effortlessly lifted a handcrafted styrene "bomb" the size of a duffle bag over his head. "No one else in the Air Force does what we do."

COPYRIGHT 2001 U.S. Air Force, Air Force News Agency
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group