The Painted Lady (on Glass)

Yesterday, I attended to something that long begged attention. I finally put on display a precious family heirloom, a unique work of art from the imagination and talented hands of my father, Alfred Kubitz. I call her “The Painted Lady.” It now hangs regally on the wall above my wife Linda’s large dresser mirror.

There is a story behind this image. To begin with, this art-deco rendering of “The Painted Lady” resides on the back of its protective glass, not on any traditional artist’s medium under glass. The composition, itself, was created in the nineteen-twenties or early thirties by an unknown (to me) artist. I vaguely recall conversations many years ago with my father that leave me with the impression that he first saw this image in one of the magazines popular during his teen-years – perhaps Cosmopolitan or Vogue? The art-deco flair of the rendering must have tweaked Dad’s significant artistic sensibilities, and this led him to produce his original painting-on-glass version which was the prototype for what is illustrated, here, in my post.

Going way back to my earliest recollections, I vividly recall the original painting hanging for many years in my parent’s bedroom. Likely, my father painted it in the mid-to-late nineteen-thirties and proceeded to gift it to my mother after their marriage on July 8, 1939.

Fast-forward to approximately nineteen seventy-four when signs were apparent of paint separating from the back of the glass on “The Painted Lady.” With retirement on the near horizon after thirty-two years at United Air Lines, my father recognized, in his deteriorating painting, an artistic/technical challenge as well as a small business opportunity for his retirement years. The challenge? To produce “replicas” of his artistic tour-de-force. Simply photographing the image and printing copies was not what he had in mind. The challenge of reproducing “The Painted Lady” on the back of glass and offering such unique works of art for sale to the public at a price only three or four times what the market might fetch for a fine photographic print – that was what he had in mind. In the spirit of “preserving” his original concept, these highly unique offerings were to be an affordable improvement on his original “Painted Lady” in two major ways.

First, the delicate black outlines of the original would be even finer and truer than Dad had been able to lay down on the glass by hand. Despite the difficulty, he did a fantastic job on the original, years ago! Second, the recreations would use art-quality, modern paints applied to the back of a glass surface ever-so-lightly etched for optimal adhesion of the paint, thus guaranteeing decades of life for the image.

Dad worked out a process that would meet all these objectives and result in a striking work of art. As I recall that process, the black outlines and the several colors would be silkscreened onto the glass in a series of layered steps. What you see pictured at the beginning of this post is one of the original prototypes (actually a finished/perfected product) of the process described, here. Dad designated this “Copy #1” on the back.

Dad presented this beautiful treasure to my wife, Linda. Here is his birthday gift inscription to her, penned in his own hand on the back:

My sister, Karen, also received one of these treasures from Dad. Hers is identical to Linda’s, except for a yellow background rather than the original blue as reproduced on our Copy #1. We called Karen and husband Jon cross-country the day before yesterday with congratulations on their fifty-fourth wedding anniversary. I asked Karen about Dad’s original “Painted Lady” which she had kept after choosing from the keepsakes he left behind when he passed away in nineteen ninety-two. Alas, Karen informed me that the original “Painted Lady on Glass,” like her creator, was no more. Much of the original paint had finally come loose from the glass after all those years, rendering her “lost.”

Although my father may have created one or two experimental prototypes before crafting the two copies I have described, here, I do not recall seeing any. I do recall finding in recent years some of his process documentation for the project: I hope I still have his papers somewhere in my files. Recalling my father so well, I am certain that meeting the technical challenge of creating these modern versions of his early work while preserving his artistic concept of “The Painted Lady” for others to see were more satisfying to him than the prospects of any potential commercial venture. He decided not to go forward with the latter.

It pleases me to know that at least two copies, offspring if you will, of the original “Painted Lady” live on to remind us and our descendants of my father, his craftsmanship, and his artistic legacy.

Lincoln, the Civil War, and Reconstruction Revisited

Recent events have re-kindled an old interest of mine. In the late nineteen-sixties, I became hooked on the U.S. Civil War. After much study and the years-long acquisition of a mini-library on the war, the names of Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, Robert E. Lee, et-all, eventually receded to the back-burner of my interests as I became immersed in science, aviation, and other pursuits.

This week I received a fine set of nine volumes on the collected works of Abraham Lincoln, edited by Roy Basler and published by the Rutgers University Press in 1953. In my opinion, Lincoln was one of the great writers, ever. The beauty of his words stems not from flowery prose, but from a finely-honed directness aimed unerringly at the subject matter under consideration. Lincoln’s talent is self-evident whether the object of his pen was a quick, five-line, daily directive as president, or the Gettysburg Address, itself.

I long had my eye on this collection, even back in the nineteen-seventies when I could not afford it. Last week, I found this fine set offered at the bargain price of one-hundred dollars, and I could not resist given my decades-long admiration of Lincoln’s eloquence. There was also another timely reason for this purchase.

The Relevance, Today, of Lincoln’s Plans for Post-War Reconstruction

One aspect of Lincoln’s presidency which I never really investigated were his thoughts on emancipated slaves and post-war reconstruction. Today, with the Black Lives Matter movement gaining such widespread attention, the question of post-war reconstruction from the standpoint of Lincoln’s intentions and, as viewed with hindsight, of the ultimate reality becomes an important one. I hope that this collection of books will help shine some light on the matter. Lincoln was a president who used words sparingly and for cause: I am very much interested in what he had to say about the imperative of healing the country. What better source than this set of collected works from Lincoln’s own hand?

Isaac Newton and the Plague of 1665/66: Perhaps the Greatest Year in Science!

Today, we have the Covid-19 virus pandemic which threatens America – indeed the entire globe. Many of us are just now emerging from weeks of “sheltering-in-place” while avoiding the virus and its risks. Virtually overnight, we found ourselves confined to home with copious spare time on our hands, time to do all those “other things” which prove to be so elusive in normal times. Many are the voices which have expressed this as a surprise blessing! Indeed, what have you been able to accomplish using this unexpected windfall of extra time at home?

Woolsthorpe Manor, Lincolnshire

The all-time poster-child for shelter-in-place achievers happens also to be the greatest scientist who ever lived, Isaac Newton (yes, even greater than Albert Einstein who holds second position – in my humble estimation!).

As a young, unknown student, Newton had just completed his undergraduate work at Cambridge University in the year 1665 when the fearsome bubonic plague, the “black death” as it was called, swept through London and regions of England. Armed only with the most rudimentary medical knowledge, Londoners and folks in the countryside resorted to the only option available to them: sheltering-in-place to avoid exposure. Sounds familiar, does it not?

 In 1665, despite centuries of recorded plagues and millions of deaths, the origin and transmission of such deadly pandemics were to remain unknown for a surprisingly long time. It was not until 1894 that Alexandre Yersin identified the bacterium responsible for such a horrible affliction. In 1898, Jean-Paul Simond revealed that the bacterium was spread through flea bites. Rodents were identified as the principal hosts and transmission vehicle for these fleas. Although largely treatable and well-controlled, today, “the black death” surprisingly still stalks the earth and its human populations!

The year 1666 is known as Newton’s “annus mirabilis,” the “miracle year” in science due to thought processes and experiments that took place in a tiny manor house in Woolsthorpe, Lincolnshire, near Cambridge. It was there, in his mother’s rustic farm-house, the place where he was born, that young Newton secluded himself from the plague for more than a year of intense contemplation, investigation, and writing.

At Woolsthorpe, Newton formulated three fundamental cornerstones of science and mathematics: first, the foundation of modern calculus, known then as Newton’s theory of fluxions; second, experiments with prisms and light which led to his second masterwork book in 1704, the Optics; and finally, his thoughts on the strange nature of gravitational attraction which led to his ultimate masterwork of 1687, Philosophie Naturalis Principia Mathematica which translates from Latin as: Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.

The Principia is universally regarded as the greatest scientific book ever published, being the product of perhaps the most fertile mind in the recorded history of mankind. In the book, Newton combined his prodigious knowledge of Euclidean geometry with fledgling elements of his new calculus to describe mathematically, for the first time, no less than the motion of the planets through the heavens. Also revealed are Newton’s three laws of motion, the basis of modern physics/mechanics, and his notion of universal gravitational attraction.

Newton’s prodigious output during that year-plus of sheltering-in-place at Woolsthorpe is legendary because his investigative conclusions at that time led directly to his later, refined publications and their great advancement of scientific knowledge and method.

In stark contrast to Newton, this writer will be happy to further organize his den, write a few blog posts (such as this one), and clean-out the garage over the next several months. Oh…and I hope to give myself a much-needed haircut, soon! Like Newton, we can all strive, in our own way, to make the best of a terrible situation.

The Hellcat Flyboys of World War II

Just look at them: The Hellcat Flyboys of the United States Navy who flew the Grumman F6F Hellcat from aircraft carriers. This fabulous photo from World War II wonderfully captures the energy and essence of all young fighter pilots.

What is that essence so convincingly captured in the faces of these Hellcat Flyboys? First and foremost, that special quality reflects confidence, joy, and comradeship – the knowledge that they are part of an elite group that has qualified to fly and fight for the United States Navy in undoubtedly the most challenging arena of wartime aviation – carrier duty. These young men, barely beyond boyhood in many cases, have earned the right to further prove themselves in the aviation challenges that lie ahead. It is the opportunity to further test themselves that accounts for the joy and anticipation in their faces. The Hellcat Flyboys came from all across the United States of America and from diverse backgrounds to fly for the Navy and to serve the country in a venture that offered excitement and experiences far beyond any they could possibly have known back home in Des Moines, Iowa, or Biloxi, Mississippi, or Bakersfield, California. That scenario remains as true today as it did back then. These young aviators already realize that they had to be good – damn good, in order to qualify for Navy wings, but now they crave to test their limits in the brutal arena of combat to determine just how good they really are. Undoubtedly, in the photo above, there are at least three or four who survived the war and actually shot down opposing Japanese pilots in the process. Equally probable is the likelihood that at least three or four of these young men went down in rough seas never to be seen again. Not infrequently, they perished right on the carrier deck in plain sight of their shipmates after returning from a mission in a Hellcat shot full of holes or draining its last pint of fuel on landing approach. Here is a Hellcat from the USS Enterprise which crash-landed on 10 Nov. 1943. The catapult officer is climbing up the burning aircraft to successfully rescue the pilot. Note the ruptured belly fuel tank.

One thing is certain: self-confidence is a prime requisite for any fighter pilot, and even “controlled cockiness” is an asset…to a point. That characteristic confidence is on display with most flyers whose exploits I have studied. For some, the attitude is very low-key – like Clarence “Bud” Anderson in the Army Air Force who piloted a P-51 Mustang over Germany while chalking up sixteen plus victories, or “kills.” Others, like Chuck Yeager, who was also a Mustang ace in the war (five or more confirmed victories), come across as a bit more “gregarious.”

I spent some time at the Naval Air Test Station in Patuxent River, Maryland, in the late nineteen sixties. I had the opportunity to talk with some older Naval Aviators at that time. I came away from the experience with a clear picture of the “fighter- jock” mentality, an image amply supported since by much research and a library of books on aviation.

Despite the confidence and ability required to win Navy wings in the early years of the war, survival required an even greater ability, and, last but not least, considerable luck, as well. Some barely made it through; many did not.

F6F Hellcats On-Deck: Up-Front and Ready for a Mission

One Naval Aviator’s Very Distinguished Career

Not long ago, I came across the picture of a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk, a Vietnam-era carrier-based fighter jet now displayed in an east-coast museum. I noticed the pilot’s name under the cockpit, LCDR LEW CHATHAM. Bells went off in my mind’s eye: I immediately recalled seeing Lew Chatham at nearby Moffett Field as one of the two “solo” pilots (#5) who flew with the 1963 edition of the Blue Angels. After that thrilling performance, I waited along the rope fence with many others to get the autographs of the entire team of six. Chatham signed as “Lt. Lew Chatham.” That small sheet of paper along with a team photo from the Navy and a picture of the group flying in formation was framed and hung in my room for several years until I finally gifted it to a young brother-in-law. This was the team picture:

Lt. Lew Chatham, 1963 Blue Angels Solo #5 (far right)

Curious after all those years, I visited the internet and discovered that Lt. Chatham retired as a Navy Admiral in 1987 after thirty-one years of service. As a Navy pilot of long standing he had 1,100 arrested carrier landings to his credit – 300 of them at night! My goodness, that record of survival reflects an incredible degree of “stick and rudder” skill, as they say.

Lew Chatham and the Navy Saga of John McCain

Furthermore, and very interesting: as strike-operations officer aboard the aircraft carrier USS Oriskany in 1967, Chatham was one of the last to speak with a young Navy flyer by the name of John McCain who was leaving the pilot ready room for a dangerous mission over Hanoi, Vietnam. Chatham’s last words to McCain were, “You’d better be careful. We’re probably going to lose someone on this one.” The cocky pilot called back, “You don’t have to worry about me, Lew.”

 History records that John McCain and his A-4 Skyhawk were shot out of the sky over Hanoi that very day by a missile. He was seriously hurt upon ejecting from the airplane, was captured by the North Vietnamese, and held captive in a grimy prison for several years. Enough said; the rest of the John McCain story is familiar to most everyone over the age of fifty.

From 1978 until 1980, Chatham commanded the nuclear-powered carrier, USS Kitty Hawk – his most challenging assignment. This was a guy who, like Chuck Yeager in the Air Force, had the “right stuff” – in spades, apparently. Remarkably, “it” seemed visible, even early-on.

I vividly recall the entire Blue Angels performance that day in 1963 at Moffett Field: the spectacle does tend to “stick” with one for a long time. As is always true of their performances, all team members of the Blue Angels radiate assurance and confidence as they walk through the formal preliminary of approaching the flight line and settling into the cockpits of their airplanes waiting in precise formation on the tarmac. I very distinctly recall seeing something special in the persona of Lt. Lew Chatham from San Antonio, Texas, that afternoon. Aside from the blond crew-cut, something else about his manner uniquely stood out, and that something else was what apparently carried him to the top echelons of the United States Navy. He, even more than the other five “Blues,” seemed to have arrived straight from central casting for the role of Navy Blue Angel.

My thanks and kudos to the Hellcat Flyboys and to Admiral Chatham for their Navy service: I only hope that, at the very least, most of those Hellcat Flyboys, like Admiral Chatham, survived their Navy experience and had a rewarding life after the War.