Stories from the stores

Our shipping gallery has been closed for a few weeks (for maintenance work) but I am delighted to say it’s now open again. It’s one of our oldest displays, launched in the early 1960s, but it’s wonderful and I love it.

The exhibits on show really invite you to spend time with them, to explore them and think about what they mean. And it doesn’t have to be the official story. Any detail might catch your eye and reveal a story personal to you.

Remember in an earlier post I mentioned we have a signal cannon from a Trinity House light ship that was built near where I live by the River Thames? Well, I went to take a picture and found a plaque for “Thomas Grieve & Sons, Bedford Street, North Shields“. Just across the River Tyne from where I was born and raised, in South Shields! Small world…

Signal cannon

Detail of signal cannon

Then I took a look at the gas turbine engine nearby, used on the first jet-powered ship (see this earlier post). First I found its own maker’s plaque, but the closer I looked, the more little plates, numbers and marks I found. See some of my pics on Flickr here. Every time I thought I’d spotted all of them, I found another…

Metrovick gas turbine

Metrovick gas turbine

The moral of this story? It’s great fun to look really closely at, say, one exhibit in a museum near you. I mean, really closely, and over several visits, and then follow your nose to sniff out its wider story online, in libraries and in archives. Our history is embedded in the objects we’ve invented, made and used, and it’s all still there to be discovered…

Since about 1800, maritime navigation has relied on super-accurate timekeeping. Recently this has involved radio time signals beamed down from Global Positioning System (GPS) satellites, but for the bulk of the period, ship masters have navigated using the chronometer. These are very accurate portable timekeepers carried on the ship, providing a reference to compare against local time.

The difference between the two times is equivalent to the east-west distance between the two places. That’s longitude, and it was a real devil to find before the chronometer was developed. One of the most notable chronometer-making firms celebrates its 175th birthday this year. Founded in 1834, the Charles Frodsham company is still going strong today.

Back in the day, they worked in partnership with the Astronomer Royal at the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, on high-tech timekeeping research projects that saved countless lives at sea. About to go back on display in our newly-refurbished Measuring Time gallery is this top-quality example of Charles Frodsham’s early work – a lovely 1840s pocket chronometer:

Pocket chronometer by Arnold and Frodsham, Science Museum collection (credit: David Rooney)

Now, they’re developing a new form of mechanical wristwatch which will be built entirely at their premises in Sussex. I visited them last week. Their skill and passion is remarkable, blending old-school watchmaking skills with the latest sophisticated design processes and highly complex mechanical manufacturing methods. We’ve always been good in this country at technical design and innovation, and I saw no end of that out in Sussex last week.

Happy 175th birthday!

Just a quick post today, as I’m out on the road. I spent yesterday at the Science Museum Wroughton with some transport specialists. One used to work for a well-known British oil company, and I had a very interesting chat with him about equipment used for cleaning up oil spills at sea.

More on that in a later post (when I’ve had a chance to look into it and get some pictures together), but for now, let me quickly introduce our model of the motor-ship ‘Vulcanus’, built in Amsterdam in 1910. She was the first motor-driven oil tanker (in other words, driven by an internal-combustion engine):

Model of MS 'Vulcanus', 1910 (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

The transport of crude oil in bulk around the world, in ships descended from Vulcanus, is a fascinating – and occasionally catastrophic – story. More on all this soon…

This year marks the fortieth anniversary of Concorde’s first flight (as prototypes numbered 001 and 002), and the iconic aircraft served passengers from 1976 to 2003. A fatal Concorde crash in Paris in July 2000 temporarily grounded the fleet, and economically, it seems, the writing was then on the wall for Concorde’s supersonic service.

Our collections are rich with Concorde stuff. Top of the list is our own aircraft, prototype 002, on display at the Fleet Air Arm Museum in Yeovilton:

Concorde 002 at Yeovilton, 1979 (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

In the Science Museum in London we’ve several displays, including some of our beautiful Concorde wind tunnel test models:

Concorde wind tunnel test models (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

Back in the 1960s, we had a choice. We could have super-fast flight, which had the downside of being noisy and thirsty. Or, we could opt for high-capacity flight at lower speeds with more efficient and quieter engines.

We tried both, but only one has survived. Concorde was our dream for speed, but wide-body jets such as the Boeing 747 became our everyday experience. Today, the latest passenger planes (such as the Airbus A380) take the 747 to the next level of size and efficiency. Will passengers ever fly supersonic again?

We’ve got a Centenary Talk coming up on 5 October that might well be of interest to you. Hear Concorde captain David Rowland and mechanical engineer Professor Jeff Jupp talk about Concorde’s story and the legacy that remarkable supersonic plane has left in today’s aviation world. Hope to see you there, but if you can’t make it, check out our book, ‘Concorde: Story of a Supersonic Pioneer’, by Kenneth Owen, which is an absorbing and comprehensive account.

Yesterday, I visited the former Croydon Airport as part of my London Open House perambulations. Croydon was home to London’s first proper airport, with the purpose-designed terminal building opening in 1928. It’s now a visitor centre and business park.

Detail of Airport House, Croydon (credit: David Rooney)

Increasing aircraft size, number of flights, and worries over proximity to a fast-growing London (sound familiar?) meant that Croydon’s days were numbered as an international airport after the Second World War, and the last flight left exactly fifty years ago, in September 1959. Heathrow took over.

In its day, though, Croydon Airport saw much pioneering flying. One of its most celebrated departures took place in 1930, two years after the terminal opened for business, as Amy Johnson took off to become the first woman to fly solo to Australia.

To get a true sense of her remarkable achievement (and those of every other flying pioneer of the early days), it is well worth seeing her aircraft, ‘Jason’, on show in our Flight gallery:

Amy Johnson's Gipsy Moth aircraft (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

Such a small aircraft – such a long journey. Remember Johnson – and the diminutive Jason – next time you fly a Boeing 747 round the world. Alternatively, you could always remember the event by dining in Amy Johnson’s Restaurant and Bar, at the historic Aerodrome Hotel right next to the airport terminal…

Aerodrome Hotel, Croydon (credit: David Rooney)

The lovely Emily in our Science Night department has expressed her concern at my taking to powered transport at Wroughton last weekend. She saw me powering into the distance on my Brompton folding bicycle and naturally feared for my safety on anything with an engine!

I’ve been thinking of buying a folding bike for ages, but wondered what they were really like to ride. Then I discovered that South West Trains are offering very good value Brompton hire as part of their attempts to make public transport commuting a viable option. Last week I took up their excellent offer and tried one out. Wroughton’s windy runways were a great place to see what it could cope with!

David Rooney on a Brompton (credit: Peter Turvey)

I’ve been cycling for years but full-size bikes are banned on most of London’s public transport. Of course I could cycle all the way but, let’s be honest, many people (myself included) would balk at that and the result would be abandoning the bike altogether after a short time.

Ideals are all very well, but we live in the real world, and personal motivation and psychology must be taken into account. Folding bicycles offer flexibility, and that means choices, and we like having choice.

We’ve had a Brompton on show for the last ten years in Making the Modern World (looming over poor Sierra Susie):

Brompton bicycle at the Science Museum (credit: David Rooney)

I’ll tell you more about the Science Museum’s collection of historic folding bicycles at a later date. Some lovely stuff there!

I spent last Saturday in the Roundhouse, London. In the 1840s and 1850s it was a locomotive storage shed for the London and Birmingham Railway, and it’s now an arts venue.

I was there for the first live performance of Jem Finer’s ‘Longplayer‘, a piece of music designed to play without repeating for 1,000 years. It’s normally computer-generated, and has been playing since 31 December 1999, but Saturday saw 1,000 minutes (nearly 17 hours) of it played live. It was remarkable (not just my view – see this FT piece).

Longplayer Live, 12 September 2009 (credit: David Rooney)

Shifts of musicians followed a complex score to play 234 Tibetan singing bowls which together formed a 20-metre wide composite instrument. Elsewhere, a relay of writers, poets, scientists and other thoughtful people conducted a Longplayer Conversation for twelve hours.

We’ve developed a pretty short attention span. By thinking longer into the future than we’re used to doing, we will surely be able to solve the global, long-term problems that are facing us. Longplayer, and creative projects like it, prompt those conversations about our long future, and I love them for it.

But I am a transport curator. Must find transport connection.

OK, aside from the fact that the Roundhouse used to be a locomotive shed, how about this: if you want to hear Longplayer, and you’re near London, why not visit the main listening post. It’s at Trinity Buoy Wharf, near East India station, which used to be the site of Trinity House’s coastal navigation workshop. We’ve got a signal cannon from one of their light ships. See? It’s all about transport, really.

I had a great day out on Sunday at our Wroughton Festival of Innovation. I had my first ever motorbike lesson!

My instructor was the excellent (and patient) Neil, from Ace Motorcycle Training, who got me properly riding – changing gears and everything. OK, I didn’t get higher than second, and I had some difficulty turning corners, but I didn’t stall much and more importantly I really enjoyed it…

Ace is taking part in the industry-led Get On campaign which is promoting life on two wheels, offering newcomers their first ride (like mine) or helping them return to biking if they have lapsed.

Downshifting from cars to bikes seems a positive step on the road to sorting out transport problems (from urban congestion to climate-changing emissions) and this campaign seems to have the elements of positivity and active enjoyment that are likely to entice people out of their cars.

So let’s see what small, modern(ish) motorbikes we’ve got in the collection. Only two jump out. There’s a Honda CB92 from 1964 in store at Wroughton (no pic to hand, but lots on Google Images), and in our absorbing Dan Dare exhibit at the Science Museum there’s a 1965 Honda 50 – the pizza-deliverer’s friend, described as the best-selling powered vehicle of all time.

Honda 50 motorcycle (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

I’m afraid I don’t know what I had my lesson on. It was black and I was somewhat preoccupied with not crashing it. Neil, if you’re reading this – what was it? A Kawasaki? Yamaha? Something like that?

Let me introduce the PS Savannah (‘PS’ stands for paddle steamer). 190 years ago, Savannah was docked in Russia while the captain received a gold watch from the country’s Emperor.

What was the occasion? A few months earlier, Savannah had become the world’s first steam-powered ship to cross an ocean, travelling from Savannah (on America’s south-east coast), to Liverpool (on England’s west coast) in 29 days.

Actually, it was a hybrid sail and steam ship, and most of its journey was carried out under sail, not steam power. But it was a start, and Savannah went on to tour Europe before returning home. Here’s our model of the ship:

PS Savannah, 1818 (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

PS Savannah was wrecked in 1821, but that wasn’t the end of the name, or the pioneering. In 1959, enter stage-left the NS Savannah, the world’s first nuclear-powered merchant ship, named in honour of its predecessor’s role in marine propulsion history.

NS Savannah, 1959 (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

Nuclear reactors still power some military ships around the world, but it was pretty much a non-starter for merchant use, for mostly economic reasons. NS Savannah is currently being decommissioned and decontaminated in Baltimore.

But nuclear power for generating electricity is a different kettle of fission*, with fresh attention being paid to the technology as part of attempts to cut climate-changing emissions from burning fossil fuels. Of course, this just opens up a whole world of debate…

*Sorry.

The latest addition to the Science Museum’s road transport collection is the last ever coin-operated kerbside parking meter in Westminster. It arrived at our storage facility last week (let’s hope the delivery van didn’t get a parking ticket).

Westminster Council was the first in Britain to install parking meters, back in 1958 (great Times article here), and the roadside sentries have been a feature of London’s West End (and elsewhere) ever since. This particular one was installed in Warwick Square in the 1990s and was dug up at an official ceremony on 7 May 2009.

Parking meter, 1990s (credit: David Rooney)

We’ve got some other traffic stuff in our collections. Alongside a handful of parking meters, a couple of traffic light sets and the Gatso speed camera I mentioned previously, we also have a 1980s handheld computer used by the Metropolitan Police to record details of illegally-parked vehicles which had been clamped, as well as a clamp itself:

Husky 'Hunter' computer (credit: David Rooney)

'Wheelok' wheel clamp (credit: Science Museum / Science & Society)

Our road transport collection is by no means just vehicles. It’s about the whole driving system, the complex tangle of things that’s resulted from our attempts to move farther, faster, more safely and in more comfort - attempts that have been going on, I guess, since we first decided to see what was occurring in the next cave. But where do we go from here?

One thing’s for sure: at the Science Museum we’ll keep collecting whatever people come up with to help solve the problems of moving about. Speaking of which, I’d love to get my hands on more urban transport gadgetry, if any traffic engineers happen to be reading…