I like history. I like flying. I like learning about my ancestry. I never met my mother’s father. He was in an airplane that disappeared about the time my mom was 11. He had been at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked. And, the purpose of this today, he was part of the ground crew when the dirigible Hindenburg exploded at Naval Air Station Lakehurst in New Jersey.
My mother was born at Lakehurst about six months after the disaster. I’ve long wanted to visit the site, but it’s never worked out. Until now.
I’m in Philadelphia for a couple days as I write this. I had a few days notice, so I did some quick research on Hindenburg and how far it was to Lakehurst. It was a doable trip.
In 2017 I visited a village where ancestors left Germany to settle in the US. Earlier this year I met descendants of the part of the family that didn’t move. I did not know my maternal grandfather, of course, but I did meet one brother and one sister. My mom died at age 50 when I was just 28, so I have a gap on that side of the family.
Crossing the Atlantic by air was an expensive and glamorous way to travel back in the days before airliners. But that all came to a stop on May 6, 1937. Boom. Done. One series of many improbable conditions resulted in a huge accident, a change in business models, and 86 years later provided a chance for me to connect with my more recent past.
My charter captain and I drove to Lakehurst from Philadelphia. I drove. He navigated. The memorial is easy to find. It’s a huge open space next to a hangar designed to hold an airship. We parked and walked out across a huge field that appeared to be made scraps of asphalt covered with pea gravel.
When you see pictures of Hindenburg burning or watch a video of the news footage, you see people on the ground. The ground crew was there to pull down on ropes hanging from the airship and manually haul it down and to the mooring mast. Important for me is that one of those figures you see was my grandfather. I don’t know which one. I don’t know what his role was. But, 86 years later I have now walked the same ground he walked that day. I have seen the same landing area. The same record size hangar. And the same water towers.
Important for me is that one of those figures you see was my grandfather. I don’t know which one. I don’t know what his role was. But, 86 years later I have now walked the same ground he walked that day.
The memorial was placed on the spot Hindenburg’s gondola crashed in flames 50 years before.
I now have a connection to the man who provided one quarter of the DNA that makes me who I am. I have a couple uniform items that were his I received from my mom. My son has a bookcase my grandfather made for my mother. It was a poignant moment being there and not being able to comprehend the horror people saw that day.
The fire lasted 34 seconds and has spawned questions and conspiracy theories that have only slowly in the last few years fully been resolved.
