Barrett Rainey's Second Thoughts

I never thought about being a docent.

While I’ve visited my share of museums around the country, the idea of being a docent in one just never crossed my mind.

But, after a few classes, some book work and a long, written test, here I am: a docent. In the Evergreen Air and Space Museum in McMinville, OR. A retired pilot surrounded by some of the most unique and interesting aircraft ever to leave the ground. Or water.

The uniform is simple. Tan slacks, blue cotton shirt and a green vest festooned with patches and pins representing my years of USAF service. There are about 90 of us to cover a seven-day week, in two very, very large buildings with shifts of eight hours.

There are three buildings filled with aircraft, missiles and various spacecraft including a Mars lander. Some are from foreign countries and some hang precariously from the very high ceilings. But the centerpiece of the collection is Howard Hughes “Spruce Goose” in a large, permanent, indoor cradle. It’s huge!

Actually, there’s nothing “spruce” about the “Goose.” It’s a mammoth flying boat, actually made of laminated birch covered with a boring, solid grey material. Most of what very little metal there is used is in the eight engines. It flew once. In the bay at Long Beach, CA. A distance of about half a mile at a height of 70 feet or so.

There are a lot of stories – and misconceptions – about the “Goose.” But, here’s the straight scoop.

Howard Hughes had a background in aviation. Henry Kaiser owned a large ship-building company. In 1941, the Nazis were sinking a lot of Kaiser’s ships. The two formed Hughes-Kaiser Corporation and went to Congress with the proposal to build a huge aircraft to safely get the military and its equipment to Europe during World War II. Congress eventually authorized $18-million for three aircraft to be built in two-years.

After four years, Kaiser pulled out of the deal in 1944. Our military finally got control of the North Atlantic shipping lanes so we were losing far fewer ships.

Hughes poured another $8-million of his own into the doomed project, changed its designation to H-4 Hercules and continued. Finally, in 1947 – two-years after the war – he had one aircraft. The “Goose.”

His government contract called for a taxing test. But, the man who conceived the “Goose” knew it would fly. November 2, 1947, was the day the “Goose” flew in Long Beach harbor. About a half mile at a height of 70-feet. And never flew again. Hughes had fulfilled his repeated promise to Congress that what he designed – and build – would fly or he’d leave the country. And it did. One time.

Eventually, Hughes died and the “Goose” had no home. A California aero club finally took possession of the “Goose” nobody else seemed to want. Off and on, it was put on public display at Long Beach until it was sold to Evergreen Aviation in Oregon, in 2001, to be used as the center piece of a large educational exhibit. Which it now is.

It was cut into sections, placed on barges and shipped to within seven-miles of it’s current resting place. Far from the ocean. Far from water of any kind. Took two-years to restore and refurbish.

You can visit the “Goose” anytime. You can even get an inside tour of the flight deck and the cargo areas – for a slight additional charge. If you haven’t already, come see the “Goose,” you should. The size of it – the overwhelming size – is something to experience.

While its location is somewhat off the beaten path, we get visitors from all over the world. In just a month, I’ve talked to folks from Tibet, from China, from Germany, Italy, England, Ireland and cities all across the good ol US of A. Thanks to the museum website, they come to see the “Goose.” Even after all these years, it’s still drawing the curious. As I said, even from Tibet.

After a government investment of $18-million, another $8-million from Hughes and millions more of private funding to relocate and restore – twice – one of the largest aircraft ever built is “home” and welcoming visitors.

Being a docent at my age has been quite an experience. There are days I’d just as soon skip the shift. Hours walking on concrete floors can really torture an old spine. Some days, it’s really bad.

But, the people you meet – from all over the world – is something you can’t find just anyplace. The interactions are unique. Their questions and stories are interesting. Most days, I’m occupied with people I’d never meet without this volunteer experience.

Like the Viet Nam vet I met as he stood by the open door of a “Huey” helicopter on display. He had tears on his face as he told me the last time he saw a “Huey” was when one pulled his wounded body out of a rice paddy 59 years ago.

Check us out on the web. Evergreen Air and Space Museum. It’s quite a place.

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