Stories from the stores

I commute to work most days by fast catamaran. It’s a delightful way to travel, and lets me see London from a different perspective.

Cruise ship at Tower Bridge, 7 June 2010 (David Rooney)

Right now there are lots of big cruise ships using the River Thames as a stopping-off point. One popular mooring location is a spot beside HMS Belfast, near Tower Bridge. Earlier this week, I spotted a ship there called Alexander von Humboldt:

The Alexander von Humboldt (detail) (David Rooney)

Humboldt was a German scientific explorer of the eighteenth century. He became famous for his journal describing his voyages to Latin America from 1799 to 1804 (available online at the Humboldt Digital Library).

There’s an English-language selection from his journal available, which is an exquisite read. It’s fresh to this day.

As with many ‘celebrities’, he was immortalised in art and material culture, and we’ve a fair bit of Humboldtian stuff in our collections, from portraits of him as a dashing young explorer to busts of him as a grand old man of science.

Alexander von Humboldt c.1806 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

Celebrity’s a funny thing. For those who make it, their name can live on seemingly forever (even if on the side of a cruise ship). Yet many who carry out life-changing work remain obscure, their stories little told.

We’re working on a major new history of science gallery here at the Science Museum, which we hope will open in 2014. Right now we’re grappling with new ways to tell stories about the people and stuff of science, and we’ll be talking about our work as we do it, so watch this space (and others). Sadly, though, my idea of a curatorial team cruise on the Alexander von Humboldt  has been rejected. Curses.

I’m recently back from a short break on the Kennet & Avon canal. Travelling at three miles per hour through some of southern England’s most picturesque scenery was the perfect complement to a hectic urban life…

Dundas aqueduct, Kennet & Avon canal (David Rooney)

Just one thing, though. Idyllic though my holiday was, I was greatly relieved to return home to a flushing lavatory connected to a sewer, not a small tank of chemicals…

Model water closet, c.1900 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

The nineteenth century, with its explosion of urban living and ever-increasing housing density, led to a great movement for the widespread supply of clean water and the provision of effective sewerage in every home.

Civil engineering dealt with the big stuff – pipelines, pumping stations and vast networks of sewers. People like Joseph Bazalgette are now well-known for their work in building Victorian London’s sewer system.

Our health curator, Stewart Emmens, has discussed this at length in his sewage blogpost and his hygiene blogpost, and our Making the Modern World website expands the story.

Joseph Bazalgette (Science Museum / Science & Society)

No less important was the new breed of sanitary engineer which grew up, designing the types of lavatories, basins and pipework that are so common today as to be almost invisible, although in the early days training in its operation was needed:

Hygiene demonstration cabinet, 1895 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

But please don’t get me wrong. I’m just as appreciative of the engineers who enabled my rented canal boat to be fitted with that chemical toilet I mentioned. I shudder to think what the alternatives might have been…

As you read this, I’m away on a short break, taking my first holiday on a canal boat with some friends.

Canals can tell us a great deal about our history and our national identity. This scene, on show in the ‘British small craft’ display in our shipping gallery, contrasts the old and the new on Britain’s inland waterways in the 1960s:

Canal boats display, Science Museum (David Rooney)

A working barge features in the foreground, while a (then) modern canal cruiser sits behind.

This shift of use, from haulage to leisure, is a fascinating story in Britain’s marine history, and the rest of the display similarly sheds light on how we felt about our coastal identity back in the 60s, and how it sat in wider culture.

British Transport Films cameraman filming canal boat, 1950 (NRM / BTF / Science & Society)

We’ve got a really interesting vacancy at the moment. If you’re thinking of starting a PhD, we’ve got funding from the Arts & Humanities Research Council to pay for a doctoral student to study our British small craft display.

You can find out more about the project, being run jointly between the University of Nottingham’s geography department and ourselves, here.

If you’re interested, please contact Professor David Matless at Nottingham for an informal discussion. Closing date for applications is Friday 4 June, with interviews being held at the Science Museum on Thursday 17 June.

Meanwhile, if I haven’t accidentally fallen in the Kennet & Avon canal, I’ll be back in London next week. Now, does anyone know how to steer this thing?

Many seventeen-year-olds become very familiar with the world of insurance as they pick up the keys for their first hot hatch…

VW Golf, 1975 (David Rooney)

Few of us think about the system that sits behind our insurance policies, but everything in the transport world plays its part in a network of brokers, underwriters, syndicates and financiers – from passenger jets to fleets of reps, container ships to communication satellites.

Intelsat 6 communication satellite, 1989 (NASA / Science & Society)

Transport pioneers have long needed the services of insurers. One item in our archive is a 1907 insurance policy from Lloyd’s, ‘on the life of Charles C. Turner from the time of leaving earth at Crystal Palace in a balloon’.

Turner made it to Sweden and survived, which must have been a relief back in the Lloyd’s underwriting room at the Royal Exchange, London…

Royal Exchange, London, c.1905 (NMeM / RPS / Science & Society)

A few days ago, our space curator Doug Millard organised a staff trip to meet a group of space technology insurers at Lloyd’s. Part of the visit included a tour of the remarkable building itself, designed by Richard Rogers and opened in 1986.

Lloyd's building, 2010 (David Rooney)

The building is amazing! The services hang on the outside, leaving the interior a vast volume uninterrupted by service ducts and lift-shafts.

Lloyd's underwriting room, 2010 (David Rooney)

The building’s scale befits the world of global risk-taking. But the work itself – brokers seeking insurance for their clients, meeting underwriters who’ll back the risk – is carried out face-to-face, as in the seventeenth-century coffee shop of Edward Lloyd, where the business started.

Back in 1907, Charles Turner’s broker sat with a Lloyd’s underwriter at a desk just like these in a building not far away…

Well, it’s Wednesday morning and it looks like we might soon be able to stop sheltering from the sky.

With air travel still a problem as airlines attempt to return to schedule, fresh attention has been turning to the sea. The Royal Navy brought home some travellers on a warship, and demand for ferries has been high.

For passengers between the UK and France or Belgium, the Eurostar rail service has been a possibility (if you can get a ticket). Back in 1936, when the Channel Tunnel was a distant dream, a new train ferry service linking London and Paris was considered state of the art:

'The New Train Ferry Boats' poster, 1936 (NRM / Pictorial Collection / Science & Society)

Passengers boarded trains at London Victoria and disembarked at Paris Gare du Nord, fresh from a night’s sleep (give or take a carriage swap or two at Dover and Dunkirk, depending on the depth of their pockets).

The ‘Night Ferry’, as it was known, continued until 1980, when competition from airlines had got too great. Thirty years on, though, is it time to reconsider this slower, but perhaps surer, form of travel?

'Night Ferry' poster, 1959 (NRM / Pictorial Collection / Science & Society)

Air travel is a wonderful invention, in my view, but it’s not without challenges, and one big problem comes from relying on it to the exclusion of other forms of transport.

This week’s been a bit of a wake-up call. It’s forced us to remember that we’re a maritime nation, and whatever happens in the air, the ferries keep on sailing. We shouldn’t forget that fact once the ash cloud disperses, because who knows what might happen next?

I talked last time about my recent trip to Southampton. While in town, I popped into the wonderful Solent Sky aviation museum.

Solent Sky aviation museum, Southampton (David Rooney)

Whilst much of our aircraft collection is on show in London, and our Wroughton site houses some of the bigger craft, we also have a number of aeroplanes (and other transport artefacts) on loan to other museums.

Solent Sky is home to our Short flying boat. Built in 1943 as a military-specification ‘Sunderland’, it was later converted to the civilian ‘Sandringham’ version, which involved new engines, removal of guns, bigger windows and the installation of seats and galley.

Short 'Sandringham' flying boat, 1943 (David Rooney)

Things have changed somewhat in passenger air travel since then – I wouldn’t like to see this sign under the window of a Jumbo Jet!

Sign under passenger windows in Short 'Sandringham' (David Rooney)

It had a long and fruitful career, under a variety of names including ’Beachcomber’ and ‘Southern Cross’, until its last flight in 1981. It had flown a total of 19,500 hours – a record for its type.

'Beachcomber' (David Rooney)

Soon after, with the help of the National Heritage Memorial Fund, the Science Museum purchased it and plans were made for a new aviation museum in Southampton to house it. In 1984, Solent Sky opened its doors.

It’s a terrific place. Visitors can enter the passenger cabins and flight deck of the Sandringham and, as someone who’s only flown in modern passenger jets, it was a real eye-opener to imagine flying in this 1940s airliner.

There’s tons to see at Solent Sky. The volunteer guides were really welcoming, the exhibits are superb and they’ve a substantial library and archive for those wanting to delve deeper.

I was in Southampton last week to give a talk, and while I was there, I dropped by the Southampton Maritime Museum to find out all about the area’s history as a passenger port.

Outside, I was faced with a view that brought Southampton’s maritime past right up to the present. A couple of hours earlier, P&O’s latest cruise ship, Azura, had docked nearby, ready for its inaugural cruise.

P&O cruise ship 'Azura' at Southampton, 7 April 2010 (David Rooney)

P&O was founded in 1840 as the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, operating freight and mail services to Europe and Egypt. They later expanded to passengers. This print from our pictorial collection shows P&O’s 1880s chairman, Sir Thomas Sutherland:

Sir Thomas Sutherland, P&O chairman, c.1887 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

By the twentieth century, travel on grand liners was an established luxury, with shipping lines competing to be biggest, fastest, or both.

Cunard’s 1938 Queen Elizabeth, for instance, was the largest passenger ship ever built at the time. We’ve a large model in our Shipping gallery, and this archive photo shows the launch:

Launch of the 'Queen Elizabeth', 1938 (NMeM / Daily Herald Archive / Science & Society)

The development of civil aviation posed a great challenge to maritime travel and, as I mentioned in a previous post, once pressurised airliners after 1945 made long-distance flying comfortable, days were numbered for regular liner services.

But the market for cruising seems more buoyant than ever, with new ships like Azura offering ever more luxury, facilities and destinations. When visiting maritime towns, it’s clear that Britain is still in love with the sea!

'Azura' looms over Southampton port, 7 April 2010 (David Rooney)

More on my Southampton excursion next time…

I recently mentioned our Stephenson’s Rocket reproduction steam train rides in Hyde Park this Easter. Have you had a go yet, if you’re close by? I can tell you first-hand that it’s great fun!

Once you’ve experienced the live reproduction, you’ll naturally want to see the real thing in our Making the Modern World gallery. We’ve had Stephenson’s Rocket on show here in the Science Museum non-stop since 1862, apart from a couple of excursions to York and Japan. It’s fascinating to compare it with the reproduction.

As well as the other historic railway items in our gallery which I listed last time, you may want to spend some time in our absorbing walkway of models – a rich panorama of technology in miniature, with over 100 models on show - from fire engines to space rockets, boilers to babies.

This model of a French express locomotive is generally considered to be one of the finest loco models of its period in existence:

Model railway locomotive, 1855 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

This model Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, made for us in 1911, was described by The Auto magazine as ‘one of the most beautiful models ever produced … well worthy of a place amongst the best work in our National Museum’:

Model of a Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, 1911 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

And if paddle-steamers float your boat, here’s a very rare contemporary model of the 1830 steamship Albion:

Model of a coastal paddle-steamer, c.1830 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

This is just the tip of a quite exquisite iceberg. Do call by if you can – the museum’s free to enter and we’re open 10 to 6 every day. It’s a modeller’s paradise!

I was inspecting the Science Museum’s shipping collections at our Blythe House store a few months ago, and came across this model of the oil tanker World Progress, built in 1973.

Model of 'World Progress' oil tanker (Science Museum / Science & Society)

She was classed a ‘Very Large Crude Carrier’, and with a carrying capacity of nearly quarter of a million tonnes, she was certainly well described. But she carries oil no more. According to the website of supertanker enthusiast Auke Visser, she was scrapped on the beaches of Chittagong back in 1996.

Chittagong has been in the news recently as the venue for the Bangladesh-England first test in the cricket. But in the transport world, Chittagong is well-known for its coastline of very shallow, muddy beaches which has become a worldwide centre for shipbreaking (as is Alang in the Gujarat state of neighbouring India).

This isn’t high-tech shipbreaking. That takes place elsewhere in the world, and costs far more. On the beaches of Bangladesh, huge oil tankers are torn apart by hand, using hammers, chisels, cutting torches, rudimentary diesel winches and a great deal of brute force and ingenuity.

One absorbing book I’ve read recently, Breaking Ships by BBC South Asia correspondent Roland Buerk, highlights some of the stark realities of the Chittagong industry, and what the alternatives might be. I certainly don’t know enough about this complex matter to pass any judgement myself.

Google Maps gives us the fascinating opportunity to look down on the beaches of Chittagong. The scale of the industry can be clearly seen. Zoom right in - the detail’s remarkable…

A few days ago, I told you about riverfront industry in Greenwich. I recently made another Thames-side discovery.

Just by Masthouse Terrace pier on the Isle of Dogs, you can see the original launching slip for the record-breaking ship, the Great Eastern.

Great Eastern launching slip, Isle of Dogs (David Rooney)

Close by is the frontage of its manufacturer, John Scott Russell.

John Scott Russell building, Isle of Dogs (David Rooney)

The Great Eastern was huge. Designed by Brunel and built by Russell, when launched in 1858 she was by far the largest ship ever built. In fact, she was called Leviathan (huge or powerful thing) during construction.

'The Great Eastern on the Stocks', 1850s (Science Museum / Science & Society)

Despite several launch attempts, she refused to budge, and had to be pushed into the Thames using hydraulic jacks built by the Tangye company.

Richard Tangye with the 'Great Eastern', Millwall, 1850s (Science Museum / Science & Society)

This commission was the making of Tangye, who later advertised, ‘we launched the Great Eastern, the Great Eastern launched us.’ We’ve quite a few Tangye items in our collections – browse here. (PS. Tangye’s great-great-granddaughter, Charlotte, is a friend of mine!)

By this time, satirists were questioning the use of this monster. This cartoon from our archives suggests ‘what to do with her now you’ve got her off’…

'A Suggestion: The Leviathan, what to do with her now you've got her off', 1858 (Science Museum / Science & Society)

The ship, scrapped in the 1880s, may seem like a distant memory, but it’s surprising what can still be found on the streets, by the river, and tucked away in museums…