Photo credit: Flickr user Rock Chalk Jayhawk Cartographer. Original here.

When it crossed the Atlantic, the Spirit of St. Louis had a silver nose. The whole plane was silver from tip to tail. The nose panels in particular were fabricated by hand out of aluminum sheeting. Those panels were then brush polished with their signature swirl marks — partly for decoration, but mostly to hide the subtle dents left by shaping hammers and english wheels. In the period photography, even though it’s black and white, it’s easy to see that the nose is not, in fact, gold. Yet as she hangs in the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, her nose is a bright gold color. None of the historical accounts, including Lindbergh’s autobiography, explained how the nose of the plane went from silver to gold. It was a mystery, and 15 years ago the internet as we know it didn’t exist. We often said that we should just write the Smithsonian and see if they knew, but we never got around to it.

Today people use Google as a verb and Wikipedia makes the most obscure pieces of information available to your mobile telephone. For some unknowable reason, yesterday I had the thought to search the internet for information as to why the nose on The Spirit is gold. The search engines had nothing for me. Wikipedia made no reference to the nose panels whatsoever. Even the Air and Space Museum’s own website didn’t explain the golden nose. But while poking around, I found a contact form where anyone can send an inquiry to the museum archives staff. So I did! I got an email back a couple hours later saying that my question had been forwarded on to the curator. Less than a day later, I received an email from Dr. F. Robert van der Linden, the Chairman of the Aeronautics Division at the National Air and Space Museum. In his email he said the following:

Dear Mr. Salzman:

The nose of the Spirit of St. Louis is a golden color because of a well-intentioned but mistaken attempt by us to preserve the markings on the cowling.  We don’t know exactly when, but soon after the Smithsonian acquired the Spirit in May 1928, we sought to preserve the markings by applying a clear coat of varnish or shellac.  Unfortunately, over the years, this coating has yellowed with age.  While it has taken on a beautiful golden hue, the color is wrong.  The aluminum cowling should be in its natural silver color.  In the future, when we next conserve the aircraft, we will carefully remove the coating.  This can be done by a painting conservator.  Until then, the Spirit will keep its golden nose.

Sincerely,

Bob

What a fantastic answer! Although it would be great to know exactly when the protective lacquer had been applied, finally knowing the the answer as to why is very satisfying. As far as I know, this information isn’t even part of the exhibit. Not that it’s a big secret, it’s just fun to know things that even the great Google can’t find for you. What’s particularly thrilling, however, is that at some point in the future, the plane will go back to its original coloring. How fun. I’m exceedingly grateful to Dr. van der Linden for his quick, complete and candid response. Mystery solved. With information in hand, it’s now time to update the internet so that other people can find this info too. The moral of the story, support the historical societies that protect the history you care about. Without them, we will forget where we’ve come from and have even less idea where we’re headed.

Photos via Flickr users Rob Shenk and wallyg who were kind enough to share their great work via creative commons licensing.

Post photo courtesy of Flickr user Rob_Simpson. Original here

I think Apple is really onto something here. The form factor looks good, aside from the over-rounded corners. The price is way better than expected. Even the data plans seem reasonable. The potential of this device is almost limitless. It’s ability to completely revolutionize how we use computers is very real. However, unless Apple does some nimble evolution of this device, and fast, it’ll be little more than a giant iPod Touch — not the game changing, revolutionary device it should have been. At this point it’s a great little piece of hardware that’s been fatally handicapped by a handful of terrible choices.

The name
I refuse to call it the iPad. It’s a stupid, stupid name that is too close to “iPod”, sounds stupid coming out of your mouth, and will likely never shake its tampon association. It’d be like naming your kid Adolf and then wondering why he gets made fun of at school. This bone-headed, phallocentric oversight on the part of Apple is major face-palm material and I hope they lose their trademark dispute with Fujitsu and take the opportunity to rename the thing.

The OS
I have an iPhone. I don’t need or want a bigger one. This brilliant little device needs an OS that’s as capable as its interface hardware and the iPhone OS just doesn’t cut it. Is the solution full OS-X? Not necessarily, but if there were a Tablet OS that were closer in function and software support to OS-X it would solve most of the major gripes about the device. It’d be able to run Flash, be able to multi-task, it could run dashboard widgets on the home screen, plus any number of other touch-only UI features that would make people drool. Running the tablet verbatim on iPhone 3.2 OS stinks of laziness in my opinion. Instead of investing in a fully-capable touch computer OS, they seem to have spent all their time developing fancier tablet-optimized iPhone apps. Putting seemingly no extra thought into the OS of the device makes the whole interface seem like an afterthought. They’re merely lucky that it’s as good an interface as it is to begin with. Sure, they’ve created better versions of the photo viewer and the iPod functionality, but aside from screen size this device does nothing of interest that my iPhone doesn’t do already. Meanwhile it lacks a whole list of things that my iPhone can do — make phone calls, take photos, know my exact GPS location, fit in my pocket, etc.

It’ll run apps. Super. App Store integration is great…for Apple. The whole thing frankly stinks of profiteering on Apple’s part — like the only reason the Tablet exists is to increase App Store and iTunes sales and further establish Apple as the mobile content and app platform of choice. That doesn’t bother me ethically, but it bothers me because this device could have changed the world of personal computing in ways it simply won’t without a more robust and intentional OS. Think of the apps that could be written if the tablet knew its actual GPS location or could multi-task! It’s obviously expedient and efficient for the iPhone and the tablet to share the same OS, but I say it’s the biggest hinderance to the tablet’s ultimate potential. The interface, which ought to be the most important part of this device, seems like an afterthought. Look no further than the size/proportion of the app icons to the size of the screen. They’re hopelessly spread out and what looks tight and robust on the iPhone is now disjointed and unintentional looking. It looks like it was made by somebody other than Apple, actually, who ripped off the iPhone OS and crammed it into a bigger device.

No Flash
I’ve never had a major beef with my iPhone’s inability to play flash content. It’s a phone! But on this tablet device, a lack of even basic Flash integration is simply unforgivable. How can Apple claim that this device is now the best way to experience the internet when some of the internet’s richest and most vibrant content is not viewable? What’s so frustrating is that they’re right about the hands-on experience. Being able to navigate the internet with my hands on such a laptastic piece of hardware is a web surfing dream…except for all the stuff I can’t see ’cause it’s in Flash. If big Safari can run Flash, then dammit little Safari should too. The previous hemming and hawing about performance are null and void on this tablet. As much as I’d like to see Flash give way completely to AJAX, that’s not going to happen any time soon and Apple needs to accept that and give me the full internet before they expect five hundred of my dollars.

No GPS hardware
I’m deeply disappointed by the tablet’s lack of a GPS receiver. Putting the Google Maps app on the tablet without location awareness is almost a slap in the face. Here’s this big beautiful map with satellite photos and street view, but if you want to know where you are, too bad? When I saw the maps app being demoed during the keynote, my mind immediately went to my wife and I on a road trip using the tablet to navigate. Geocaching could actually get fun on a device like the tablet. FourSquare, Twitter, Facebook and whatever the next big social media thing turns out to be — they’re all going to be location smart. But think beyond computing for a second. What if you had a docking station for the Apple tablet in your car’s dashboard? It could be your navigation system, your entertainment system, your weather report, all of that and more! But without real GPS location, what’s the point? Why should I take it anywhere? Why should I even own one?

Positioning
I don’t recall where I read this in the flood of coverage today, but I want to give proper credit that the following is not my but someone else’s brilliant observation. Positioning the Apple tablet as something between your smart phone and your laptop does a huge injustice to the device. This is not a netbook killer. By comparing it to netbooks, all Apple does is highlight what the tablet can’t do. It can’t run more than one app at a time. It can’t display Flash content. It isn’t a proper typing platform (although the keyboard dock is a great way to address that). Instead, Apple should have presented the tablet as the ultimate personal media viewer — which it has legitimate potential for being just that. Basically, they should have aimed the discussion squarely at the Kindle and the Nook and not at netbooks at all. Looking at the Apple tablet in contrast to eReaders highlights all its greatest strengths. It has a full color, beautiful display that’s optimized for shared viewing. It can explore the internet in ways eReaders can’t even begin to touch. It’s fast. It plays video. It has an immersive interface and a world of 3rd party add-on applications. It’s price competitive with the most notable eReader of the same size, the Kindle DX. Compare it to a netbook and it’s a loser. Show it next to the Kindle and it’s a rock star. There are some who argue that it’s not a Kindle killer either, but I say it very well could have been if that’s how they’d chosen to talk about it. Sure, it’s not e-ink, but I read a high-quality LCD display all day long. Crank down the brightness on the tablet, and I’m pretty sure I’d still fall asleep reading long before my eyes got bothered.

These poor decisions on Apple’s part make the tablet disappointingly useless in my digital life. I don’t even own a laptop and I’m really struggling to think of how or where I’d really use this thing. It has the potential to be the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Instead, it’s a giant iPod Touch (a device that I also think is pretty pointless in a world where I can buy an iPhone). Do I really need another way to cart around my media and check my email? With an iPhone in my pocket, no, I don’t. But could I enjoy a more personal way to experience that media both at home and abroad? Sure. But Apple’s going to have to do better than this. When the iPhone came out, I needed it. This? There’s a lot I like about it, but it’s too fatally flawed to get any of my money, and I’m really sad about that. I wanted to want this device, and I just don’t. Here’s hoping that just like the iPhone, the software evolution of this device will bring it into full blossom in short order. Until then, keep trying, Apple. You’re so close.

Exterior design is always subjective. And when you’re dealing with a brand with so much heritage, it can be a herculean task to create a new shape within the context of a new model range. But that’s exactly why the Countryman is so impressive. In this vehicle MINI has both departed and embraced the visual language that they have so carefully crafted over the last 10 years.

If you’re not a regular Motoringfile reader, it’s worth mentioning that this R60 crossover model is easily the most contentious move MINI has made since its reintroduction to America in 2002. The very idea of this car deeply divided the enthusiast community, and beyond just the cainophobiacs in the comment section. Everyone was skeptical, including myself, that an SUV — even a small “crossover” SUV — had any place in the MINI catalogue.  It seemed like pandering to the bad taste of mainstream american drivers simply to hedge MINI’s profit margins. It was abhorrent that the iconic Cooper hatch might have to share the marque with some overgrown, FJ Cruiser-like parody of itself. And had MINI gone down that path, I’d definitely be on the side of the unhappy mob — pitchfork in hand and torch aflame.

Thankfully, the design team at MINI have proven themselves masters of their craft from the very first incarnation of the R60, the Crossover Concept. Looking back on it now, it’s amazing just how closely the production car revealed today mirrors this concept vehicle from 2008.

What I thought then, and can only reiterate now with renewed enthusiasm, is that the only way a vehicle like this could work would be if it were uniquely MINI. It would have to be a vehicle with the character and cheek that only a MINI can have. The Crossover Concept had that, in my opinion, and so does the final car we’re seeing today. Looking back at the concept, you can see that it’s all there: the side grills, the lower door creese, the roofline, the big-mouth grill. Only the headlights have changed significantly. Even still, you can see their roots in the concept car. More than anything, I appreciate the great care and restraint shown by the MINI design team. This is a car of subtle elegance and rich detail. It’s not a gaudy mess of faux machismo. Instead, it’s a quietly confident little road warrior — a gentleman’s car of quiet distinction.

The interior of the R60 does not disappoint either. Taking obvious style cues from the rest of the MINI lineup, the Countryman’s interior is a much-needed refresh of the hatch’s fussy cockpit. The stereo controls appear to be significantly simplified for the better.

Changing over from the silver knobs and switches of the R56 back to the black of the R50/53 generation interior also quiets the whole center stack in a very good way. The dash isn’t so Mickey Mouse anymore. That is, except for the placement of those center air vents. C’mon, somebody had to say it! Lastly, given how much more comfortable the R56 seats are than my R53, I’m glad to read this tidbit from Gabe:

Having sat in a pre-production version of seats, I can personally confirm that the bolstering (both in the bottom seat cushion and seat back) is decidedly superior to the current sport seats in the R56.

All in all, I’m just thrilled about this car. Conceptually and aesthetically I am completely in love with it. I have only two major gripes. First, all indications are that the high-performance 2.0L diesel powerplant available in Europe will not make it to our shores. I’m looking at you, California! This is disappointing from both a fuel economy standpoint and the massive amount of torque the diesel would have provided this little AWD monster. I’d wager that in diesel trim, the Countryman would make a wonderful light tow vehicle. The silver lining is that MINI has recently announced significant efficiency and power gains to their current range of engines, which will also power the Countryman. According to MINI, by adding fully variable valvetrain to their already fuel thrifty, direct-injected engines, they’ve been able to add both power and efficiency over what we see in today’s MINI lineup. The Cooper S’s turbocharged 1.6L powerplant, for example, will be boosted to 184 hp and push the Cooper S hatch to around 40 mpg average fuel economy. That’s particularly encouraging because it could be plausible to still get 30 mpg or better out of the Countryman is Cooper S trim, even with its increased size and AWD system.

Which brings me to my second gripe: naming. I don’t mind the name Countryman, as it has roots in MINI’s heritage. What I think is, well, stupid, is that it’ll just say Cooper S on the boot. The Cooper is the hatch, dammit. Variations on the hatch make sense as Coopers, such as the convertible or the Clubman. This is an entirely different vehicle, yet for reasons lost to me, the full name will end up being MINI Cooper Countryman, or MINI Cooper S Countryman, or John Cooper Works MINI Cooper S Countryman depending on which model you get. Ridiculous. Why isn’t it simply the MINI Countryman or Countryman S? Retaining Cooper in this model doesn’t make any sense to me and smacks of a decision made because someone was afraid that people won’t know what it is if the name Cooper isn’t on it somewhere — even with a gigantic MINI logo on the boot! I didn’t like this convention with the MINI Cooper Clubman either, but at least with the Clubman it makes basic conceptual sense. The Clubman is an extended wheelbase version of the hatch. It’s the same base car. The Countryman is based on the BMW X1 and is a 4-door for goodness’ sake! It’s not the same car, and that’s okay. That’s a good thing.

These are minor gripes, though. They don’t hamper my enthusiasm for the car one bit and especially given my recent experience driving the Clubman, the MINI Countryman may in fact be the car that finally unseats me from my beloved 2006 MINI Cooper S. That will, of course, depend heavily on pricing and the reality of how it drives. But something tells me that given the absolutely stellar job MINI has done with the look and character of what we’ve seen so far, the driving experience is likely to be simply superb. I’m not expecting it to be able to chase down a Cooper S hatch through the Tail of the Dragon, but I bet it’ll still feel right at home in the corners.

A few months back I was considering whether to refinance my Cooper S or trade-in for a different car. In that process, I drove several cars including the ‘09 Cooper and Cooper S back to back. What I didn’t mention in that essay is that I also drove the Cooper Clubman on that visit to the MINI dealership. I wasn’t impressed. It drove like a Cooper with a big ass. I didn’t like it. This time ’round however, I got to evaluate the Clubman S for the better part of a week completely on its own merits and came away with a completely new appreciation for this fabulous MINI variant.

What I loved
Power. Ride comfort. External design. The torquey grunt of the turbocharged R56 motor combined with the added comfort of the Clubman’s extended wheelbase reminded me of a 3-series BMW. I like the 3-series, but hate getting in and out of them. The slope of the BMW windshield, although attractive, makes it tricky to get in and out of the car comfortably because I’m so tall. One of my favorite things about the MINI is its upright windshield. Not only does it make it easier to enter and exit the car, it adds to interior space — space even more plentiful inside the extended dimensions of the Clubman. The nearly effortless quickness of the Clubman S combined with its elevated comfort made it deeply endearing. The driving dynamics further accentuated all the things I like about the R56 generation, such as the much more comfortable seats, the telescoping steering wheel, and the tapered pillars on the center stack. Did I mention the Sport button? I can’t say enough about the Sport button. The Clubman even seemed to handle better in the winter muck than its shorter siblings.

Beyond the driving experience, I love the exterior lines of the Clubman. I’m not a fan of many of the changes to the design language of the MINI since its evolution to the R56. It’s fussy. It’s a bit pretentious. Most of all it’s almost a parody of Frank Stephenson’s iconic first generation design.

This is most evident in the interior. From its fussy proportions to the maddening audio and environmental controls — I still can’t forgive most of these choices. They’ve always felt like changes for the sake of changes to me. The interior of the Clubman remains unchanged from its hatch and convertible siblings, but the squared-off rear end and sculpted roofline fit the exterior R56 design language as though this is the car they had in mind all along. More than anything, I appreciate its subtlety.

The rear end of the R56 hatch is kind of a mess — from the gaudy, oversized tail lights, to its paunchy arse below the belt line, to the choppy lines of the rear bumper. The Clubman rear, by contrast is hardly conservative in comparison, but its proportions and lines seem so much more tailored to this new generation of MINI. Where I’ve always been ambivalent to the looks of the hatch, I’m absolutely in love with the exterior lines of the Clubman. I even like the contrasting C-pillars. I especially love the barn doors and the separated duel exhaust. It’s such a handsome car from every angle. There’s a classy quality to the Clubman that the hatch just simply doesn’t have for all its faux-aggressive details.

What I don’t like
I don’t really dislike anything about the Clubman that didn’t already bother me about the rest of the R56 line. I hate the fussy interior — particularly the center dash stack and the incomprehensible stereo controls. I loathe the maddening BMW-style turn indicator stalk that is neither fully digital nor usefully analog. I greatly miss the B-pillar height adjustment for the seatbelt. Where in some places the R56 saw an improvement in the feel and weight of its interior materials, in others it’s even more flimsy and dollar store feeling than the R53. I never did warm up to the bizarre checkerboard texture on many of the interior surfaces either. The weakest Clubman-only detail in my opinion is the rear wipers. In the salty muck of the Minnesota winter, the rear window wipers of my Clubman loaner were completely inadequate. The right side wiper didn’t even work half the time. What’s encouraging is that the 2011 mid-cycle refresh of the R56 line should fix most of these issues.

The bottom line
Even with an automatic transmission, I had a passionate little affair with this car. The Clubman S with a decent option set runs an easy $30k. Although $30k for a MINI seems a bit silly at first blush, as I cruised the Twin Cities in that Clubman it felt like a $30k car ought to feel. It was poised, comfortable, sporting, yet still authentically MINI. It felt like a car that had been very, very well thought out. In so many ways I wanted to trade my Cooper S for that Clubman on the spot. There was just one thing that nagged me: all-wheel-drive. At $30k+, a car of this proportion should have all-wheel-drive if I’m going to drive it around the frozen streets of Minneapolis. But my newfound adoration for the Clubman gave way to a deeper thought. In just a few short months the MINI Countryman comes out. With that vehicle landing somewhere on the spectrum between the Clubman and the BMW X3, I’m quietly excited about the prospect of what that car will be. Sure, I don’t expect it’ll be as taut as the coupe or even the Clubman, but it just might be the perfect MINI for this Minnesotan.

Thanks again, fellas!

Hi, if you have possible interest in a promotional barter, we have interest from
[big-name brand] for an annual [event].

We need to tweak our .com art. Please advise if you may have interest.

Sounds interesting enough, but pretty vague as to what exactly the scope of that “tweak” would be and just what they’d be offering in trade. I think there’s absolutely nothing wrong with doing design work, or any work, in trade for something that isn’t money. In fact, I wish more of our economy worked on the barter system. I have a side project going right now that’s being paid in trade, and I’m really excited about what I’m getting in return for my time, effort, and expertise. It’s a great arrangement if you’re not trying to make a living as a freelancer. The catch, however, is that the client does still need to offer up something of meaningful value in trade for work done, even if it’s not cash.  So this was my reply:

I’d definitely be interested in knowing more about your needs. My first question is just what you mean by a “promotional barter” – that is, what are you offering in return for some graphics work?

I really do like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but this isn’t my first rodeo. Design, as a professional discipline, is chronically undervalued by people who don’t have regular experience working with professional designers or creative services agencies. I don’t think it’s malicious, but part of being a thick-skinned creative is learning not to flinch when people think what you do is either very easy or completely worthless. Their response:

In addition to the project being a useful promotion to enhance your portfolio, we can list you at [their website] ‘Credits’.

You’ve gotta love the classics. I’d bet every designer has heard this line at least once in their career. Honestly, it’s pretty hard not to be insulted by this kind of presumptive devaluation of what we do every day. Imagine going to your auto mechanic and saying “In return for fixing my car, I’ll let you take a picture of my car for your lobby and I’ll put a sticker on my engine that says ‘this car was fixed by Jim.’ Deal?” Sounds ridiculous, right? Yet designers get this all the time. I really don’t mean to be flippant, and I’m certain that the individual who contacted me meant no harm. I just don’t understand why people think that designers should be so willing to work for little or nothing.

Sure, it would be nice to have [big-name brand]’s logo on my resume, but I’m not exactly hurting for big-name logos — in fact I helped redesign a couple that are already on there. Maybe that’s why this bugs me so much. I’ve been doing this professionally (that is, for a living) for the better part of a decade now. The only time — the only time — it’s even remotely acceptable to suggest that a designer work for you purely for the benefit of his or her portfolio is if it’s your niece and she’s still in design school. But even then, it’s pretty unfair. She can and should get paid for any work she does for a real world client — period. She shouldn’t be charging a whole lot, but her time and her expertise, limited as it may yet be, are still valuable — still worth something.

Thing is, when someone offers me “portfolio work” they’re not actually doing me a favor, even if I were still in school. I can create essentially “fake” ads and designs for Nike or Apple or any other big-name brand and put them in my portfolio whenever I want. They don’t have to be actual projects to have a place in my book. Designers and copywriters use the term “spec work” to describe portfolio pieces that were either unused or unsolicited by a brand — and most creatives’ books have such work in them. Mine has several samples in it that never saw the light of day, but they’re good ideas and a great demonstration of how I think. CMYK Magazine is full of this kind of work — brilliant student ad concepts, designs, and photography done for household name brands with neither their input nor their permission. But each showcasing the skill and creativity of the designer or writer. That’s what a portfolio is ultimately about — demonstrating my professional creativity on my terms — not as a default repository for any project I happen to work on. Sure, showcasing actual projects is a great way to build credibility, but a wise veteran copywriter once told me, “Your portfolio is the only place in your entire career where you get do exactly the kind of work you want to do. No budget constraints, and no fearful client feedback to compromise your ideas. What would you do if you could do anything? That’s what your portfolio should be about.” I’m still trying to live up to that in my own portfolio, but I’m also really fortunate. I’ve got a lot of good, actual work to show for my time in the industry. But if I were looking to do work just for my book’s sake, it sure wouldn’t be for people who assume my work is worthless from the start.

I’m not alone. Here are more examples from Clients from Hell:

Is $300 a fair price for your time? Or if you want, I can pay you in X-Men comics as I have a few grand worth gathering dust!

Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t just be interested in making money. I wanted you to understand how much you could learn from me, and how valuable that would be. That’s why I think $12/hr is a fair rate for you to produce the website. If you can’t work for this rate than you miss out.

We will pay you when the site is making profit.

So, you’re saying that it will take 2 days to complete this illustration. If we give you the project today, can we have it tomorrow afternoon at half the price?

We don’t have a lot of budget for this project but feel it would make a great portfolio piece and would really be worth the experience.

… and by the way, I can’t afford to pay you for this job, but you will be paid in karma — which is so much better and more permanent anyway.

We’re not happy with the concept you sent over, as a result we don’t feel we should have to pay for it. Can you please send over the design so far as a word document so we can change it ourselves.

I don’t want to pay for something that might not be what I want – can you make up a few working samples of my site and send me all the stuff for it? Then I can try them out and choose the one I like best.

Prospective client: $400 for a logo?! Why are you so expensive? My nephew has Photoshop—I can just get him to do it.
Me: Does your nephew have Microsoft Word?
Prospective client: Yes.
Me: Then have him write you a novel while he’s at it.