The Detective Returns - WWII U.S. Air Force Edition

Years ago, my mother and I were going through her parents’ items from when her father was in the U.S. Air Force, and among the papers were a number of photos of airplanes that, to me at the time, looked like they were WWII airplanes that had been shot down. (Why did I think they were WWII airplanes that had been shot down? Really only because I knew my grandfather was in WWII, and the airplanes either didn’t look whole or looked kind of shabby. Therefore, they MUST have been WWII wrecks, right?) I took three of the photos to keep for myself; two of them have good close-ups of the nose art, which have ladies in skimpy (or no) outfits. At the time, I didn’t know that was common, and was appalled that my grandfather would take a picture of a pornographic airplane. Some time after I found these pictures, we visited the Historic Flight Foundation on Paine Field in Everett, WA, where I saw other planes with women in skimpy (or no) outfits or named with innuendo, and that’s when I learned about naming your plane for ladies and having it decorated in a risqué manner. (And I tried very hard not to blush when the older-gentleman docent was talking about the Impatient Virgin?.) 

The California Sunshine... at least she has clothes on

But what are these planes in my grandfather’s photos? And where were these pictures taken? None of the photos are marked with any information (except the third photo, which is labeled as “What’s left of a Jap Zero”; despite the very washed out photo, I’m pretty sure that’s not a Japanese insignia on the main plane in the photo), or with any clue as to why my grandfather took them. I chalked it up to that attitude of “I’ll always remember what this was and where I was,” as well as not realizing someone else might look at the pictures after you’re gone. (And that led me to remind myself: Always label your photos, even if you think you’ll remember the details. Someday you might not remember, or someone else may be looking at them.) So I put them in a box of photos with other photos from my mother’s family, and moved on. 

"What's left of a Jap Zero"... but that's not a Japanese insignia

Last night, while cleaning out my closet, I was going through that box and found the pile of family photos. Surprise, surprise, there are those three pictures of WWII-looking airplanes. Between the time I snagged those photos for myself and now, I’ve worked at (and been laid off from) a military aviation museum, so when I looked at those photos again yesterday, I was even more intrigued than I was when I first saw them. It was no longer only “I wonder what that plane was and I wonder where my grandfather was when he took this picture…if he’s even the one who took it,” and being curious about the grandfather I never met; it was now also “Ooh, what is this? What type of plane is it? Did we have one at the museum? What’s its story? When was it built?” In the intervening years, too, the internet has grown more, I’ve visited and researched the collections of other aviation museums aside from the one I worked at, I know now how to locate serial numbers on an airplane, and I’ve learned that there’s a large community of military aviation enthusiasts, and if you know where to look (Hello, Google!), you can find lots of information about WWII airplanes online. So, to Google I go! 

I’m especially curious to find out where these pictures might have been taken and what types of planes each of these were (I’m not sure I’m going to be able to figure out anything about the so-called Zero, since the original picture is so washed out and I don’t have that aviation knowledge to be able to look at a plane’s frame and know exactly what type it is), but also what their missions or purposes were, and what happened to the crews. Since I first found the pictures, I’ve also learned that just because a plane looks shabby doesn’t mean it’s been shot down: it could simply have been decommissioned or deemed unairworthy. 

My mother made a scrapbook of family pictures while doing genealogy, and the book includes a couple of my grandfather’s pictures of airplanes on a runway in Papua New Guinea during WWII. I always meant to ask the mechanics I worked with at the museum what kind of airplanes they were, but I never got brave enough. More Advice From Tiffany: Don’t let the opportunity slip away. If it’s important enough to think about it, act on it before it’s too late. I now have five pictures in my possession (three loose, two in a scrapbook) that are a major piece of U.S. history, and I’m going to have to rely on my research skills and what I can find on the internet to give me even a scrap of what could have been a fascinating piece of family history. 

So, with pictures and magnifying glass in hand, I shall take to the internet to find out what bits of American and family history I have in my possession! Off we go into the wild blue yonder, Nancy Drew!

Oral History Detective

(Note: a version of this originally appeared on the blog I wrote for the historical association I volunteered at long ago, so I never put it on my own blog. However, I was pretty proud of it, and it was one of the “A-ha!” moments I was most proud of, so I’m revising the post and putting it here.)

In April 2014, I was working on transcribing a 2009 oral history interview with a woman I’ll call JAR. In JAR’s interview, she mentions a class picture she brought in to donate to the historical association*. As I was transcribing the interview, I thought of all the boxes we had in our collections room -- boxes not yet processed, boxes not properly processed, boxes processed but lost -- and wondered where in the world that picture might be, where it could have been put in the past five years. I thought about all the different class pictures we had -- all the many, many class pictures we had -- and I thought about how much I’d love to find the picture and include it with the interview transcript on-site, as well as use it as a visual aid on the web version of the transcript. Now, if only I could find that picture…

The next time I was working on organizing our collections and entering them into our database, I reminded myself I needed to find that picture. I had been planning how to try to find it: I could search our database for JAR’s name, to see if it was donated under her name (But was it an actual donation? And was it donated in her name? Would she have donated it under her maiden name or her married name? And would her name have been recorded as JAR or as J A R [Think about half the duo who played Michelle Tanner on Full House: would the cataloger have recorded her name as Mary Kate, or properly as Mary-Kate?]?); I could search our database by the school name (But everyone seemed to have a different way of calling the school, so was it cataloged as “Alderwood School,” “Alderwood Grade School,” “Alderwood Manor School,”…?); I could search by the grade level or year (But was that information included with the picture when it was cataloged? And did she say what grade/year it was in the interview?). So I had a few possible routes to search, but wasn’t sure any of them would lead to results. I was already disheartened without even starting my search!

As I was working in our database, reminding myself of all the ways I wanted to look for the picture, thinking of all the potential roadblocks, and reminding myself of the names JAR had mentioned as being in the picture (KS, MS, AN), I just happened to go through our collection of class photos, completely unrelated to looking for that picture. And then… there… My eye was caught by the name MS. “Wait!” I thought to myself. “Could it be… ?” Then I saw KS’s name listed with that same picture. “Could it…?” And then AN’s name! “No… This is too good to be true!” But there it was: a class picture, third grade, 1941-1942.

It was a beautiful, glorious moment. The clouds parted, the sun came out (Okay, I was in the basement of our building, so I don’t really know if the clouds parted and the sun came out), angels sang! “I think I’ve found it!”

The true test, though, was something that I hadn’t planned on looking for, but that popped into my head as I was investigating this picture: JAR had mentioned a little boy with holes in the knees of his pants. I checked the front row, like I remember JAR saying in her interview, and squinted hard. Sure enough, front and center, there’s a little boy with what looks to be a hole in the knee of his pants. Eureka! I’d found the picture!

Doing the history of a place from before you were there is always tricky. No matter how much studying you’ve done on the subject, you’re at some amount of a disadvantage not having lived through it first hand. For this particular organization, I was seen as a newcomer, being much younger than everyone else and living in the city after it incorporated so many other nearby parts, rather than coming from one of those country parts that was incorporated. As a result, I didn’t know a lot of the history and people that our members all seemed to know, and a lot of my knowledge about the area’s past came from research: reading books, listening to others, transcribing oral histories, entering donations. Because I didn’t have that first-hand knowledge, I wouldn’t have automatically known that this picture was JAR’s class, or known by looking at the faces that these were the same kids she was talking about. So when I could research (or, to some extent, just get lucky) and find something specific to a project, or to a story I’d heard, it was a huge deal for me. And when I miraculously found the exact picture that someone referred to in an interview, and when I stumbled over that picture without even searching for it, that’s one of those Eureka moments I just love!

2010.FIC.059A

*Because I find it so charming, here are the relevant passages of the oral history:

JAR: But you know, I do have a picture here, a photograph of our third grade. A lot of kids in this class, and there are at least nine now that are still alive and come to our school reunions or to special events here... . And these boys, like for instance, well, KS, I’ve known him since the first or second grade. ... and then there’s AN. I see AN, who is in business still to this day, at an automotive agency. And of course MS, who was my friend. And MS2; her mother was a teacher at Alderwood Grade School. And she’s also in this picture. Just cute kids. RD, ... and she just lives down the street from me, believe it or not. I didn’t know it for a long time. And then there’s AS. Now, these people I see at various events, and I’m sure that there are many others, too, but I haven’t—I’ve lost contact with them. But this picture is wonderful, and I want you to have a copy of this to show with this interview, because the children all look—they’re so innocent [laughs], and they’re so cute. They’re in third grade. Some of the boys are kind of hamming it up, and mimicking, and doing little things. And the girls just sit there and smile, with their hands folded. It’s just priceless.

CR: Very innocent time.

JAR: Very innocent time.
CR: Did you have a different feel for when you moved in to the city and had to go to the city school—
JAR: Oh, yes—
CR: —after you’d gone to the country school for so long?
JAR: Oh, yes. I remember sometimes kids would come to school here in Alderwood in bare feet. I remember one time the principal sent them home, probably for their own safety, you know. But they would— There they were. If you look at this picture, you’ll see a little boy here in the front row, and his pants, he’s got holes in his knees. His pants are kind of torn, you know. And it’s just— It’s a whole different time, and a whole different lifestyle. When I went in to northern Seattle, everybody was dressed, dressed well. It was a more serious life there. More organized. Out here, it was just free.

Oral Historian/Detective

One thing I enjoy about transcribing oral histories is that I feel like a detective at times. The interviewees talk, telling stories about their lives, naming people and places they remember. Sometimes, though, it's hard to understand what they say. Or even if I can understand what they say, sometimes I'm not sure of spelling. This is especially true for someone like me, who doesn't know a lot of the people and places that most of the speakers talk about. Was that family the Hoffs, or the Houghs? The Andersons, or the Andersens? Bartlett or Bartlet? Or maybe the interviewee doesn't remember a particular name ("What was the name of that one family...The father was a mechanic...The Ro-somethings"). That's when I put on my detective's cap.

Since I know where most of the interviewees were living at the time their stories take place (and since I know when most of the stories take place), I can jump right to the census* for that location. (Luckily, it was a small area at the time!) From there, I start scrolling through the pages, especially if I'm looking for a close neighbor of the interviewee. When I find the name, ya-hoo! I do a little victory dance. (Sometimes, though, the victory dance is delayed a bit, as I pull out more detective skills -- the art of deciphering handwriting!)

Sometimes I have really big victories. There have been quite a few times that an interviewee has talked about a particular person and an occupation or business, but either I couldn't understand the name that was given, or I wasn't sure of spelling. But when I found Elizabeth Beam, for example, who was listed on the census as "Proprietor, Beauty Shop" when the speaker was talking about where she got her hair done as a young woman, I was pretty sure I had the right person. Victory dance! Another time was when a speaker mentioned a family that had a garage, and, using other clues from the interview, I was able to find the father on the census, listed as "mechanic." Victory dance!

Other times require more computer-based detective work: the Soundex. No idea how to spell a name, or can't find anything on your own? Soundex finds names (in theory) that sound like what you're looking for. I've had a couple of wins that were generated by Soundex. Victory dance!

I love playing detective while transcribing the oral histories. It's a lot of work, especially when you don't have the connection to the people and area like some others do (I know there are other people who just know, right off the bat, whether the speaker was talking about the Hoffs or the Houghs, for example. Or knew that Elizabeth Beam was the one who did hair, or knew that that particular family's name was Romano, or that that family was Terhune, not Terhuen, or whatever other spelling I was looking for, or would know if the one family I still can't figure out was Bertelson, Bertelsen, or Bertleson.). But when you get all of the questionable names and places accounted for, boy, you feel like you've won. Victory dance!

*Yes, I do realize that the census isn't always 100% accurate. I'll double- or triple-check with other censuses to see if the spelling stayed consistent throughout the decades; other times, or if the spelling varies, I'll look for other documents--an obituary, a family tree online, a newspaper article, a birth announcement, a yearbook--to try to figure out what was most likely the correct spelling. For example, the Romanos, who at times look like Romaros; or the Ballous, who sometimes look like Ballons. I keep cross-checking until I'm pretty sure I have the correct spelling, or until I hit it lucky, like I did with the Ballous, and found a family tree online that even had a note that one of the "Ballon" transcriptions should have read "Ballou." Thank you, genealogists!  (Victory dance!)