Skilled hands bring
the faded past to life
and reach back to rescue treasures
lost in the wake of time.
Snatched from oblivion,
aglow once more with original splendor
priceless treasures from the past
now live again.
The paths that lead to treasure
are often found
by those who follow a dream.
As a child,
Ken Hyde's dream was to fly.
Today he is an airline pilot.
Ken Hyde lives in rural Virginia.
Here, with his wife and daughter
he pursues a larger dream
and each day that dream
comes closer to fulfillment.
Nestled safely in its hangar
an aeronautical wonder from
another time is coming to life.
Bearing the colors of
the U.S. Army Signal Corps,
it is a Curtiss JN-4D,
one of the famous Jennys
that first took to the skies
after the United States
plunged into World War I.
With advanced designs,
to train young American fliers.
Though she never fought in combat
the Jenny helped redefine
the rules of war...
she taught a generation of pilots
the principles of air power.
After the War in the roaring 20th
heats turned to the sky
cause the bomb stormer
roar across America
Surplus Jennys were expendable prompts
in the area Vaudevilles
which sometimes ended in tragedy.
Today, only fragments remain.
From such meager clues
Ken Hyde has learned
how the plane was built.
It basically was a
hand-built airplane.
They had some automation but
most everything was done by hand.
I didn't see any reason why
I couldn't do that
if I followed the old procedures
and did it pretty much as they did.
And it was a test.
Ken Hyde is returning his Jennys
to the way she was
when this man put her together
in the Curtis Factory
To recover a lost technology
he's become a student of History
Searching through manuals
blueprints and old parts
Here, he finds evidence
hidden in a photograph
to help him reconstruct a wild-shield
Fifteen years ago, Ken Hyde found
the pieces of a Jenny
in a building set for demolition.
Before long
he found the parts of two more.
And there was a time when we had
three airplanes in the basement
of this little 1500-square-foot
house in a subdivision.
I just remember things everywhere
and I didn't know...
I knew it was an airplane but
you know, when you're that small,
you don't realize
that all these little parts and pieces are
really going to go into something that
fantastic.
It almost seems like a dream.
J just remember it being a
very slow process...
something that you looked at.
You didn't touch.
You wanted to help,
and you were politely told
to go do something else.
Out of Ken Hyde's dream,
the shape of a Jenny slowly emerged.
He has spent months on small details
to ensure the historic accuracy of
every nut and bolt,
for the Jenny must be authentic
to be true to his dream.
When I started the airplane
a lot of the workmanship at that time
was geared to just being airworthy.
And over the years
the antique movement has changed;
it's getting more into museum quality
And the value of the airplane is
based on being as authentic
as you possibly can make it.
It's very easy and it's a lot
faster to do it
with modern materials and modern techniques
But more than anything else,
if it's going to be preserved
as a museum piece,
it ought to be just the way
it came from the factory.
Fifteen years of work now
show in every detail.
To cover just one wing
it took days to stitch
the Irish linen by hand.
The family spent endless nights
fraying the cloth tapes
that cover the seams.
Even the varnish formula
took months to develop.
All clear.
Okay, it's coming off the lip now.
To be authentic
the Jenny must be airworthy.
Before she can fly,
her engine has to be tested.
Real easy as it comes off.
Kenny, it's turning.
Okay, choke on.
Choke on.
The principle behind flying,
and a lot of people say well,
we shouldn't fly the airplane,
because if you damage it,
then all that work is for nothing.
But we've been fortunate in that
we have most of the parts and pieces,
and we can manufacture anything
on the airplane with the
exception of the engine, possibly.
So hopefully, knock on wood,
we won't damage the airplane,
but if we do, we can restore that.
So that's why we want to fly
the airplane.
Contact.
Contact.
Choke off.
Choke off.
Contact.
Contact.
Throttle closed.
Throttle closed.
Way to go, baby!
On a summer afternoon, family and
friends gather to see her fly.
Okay, contact.
I did have stage fright that day
with all those people
because Murphy's Law says that
if it's going to happen,
it's going to happen right there
in front of 230 people.
But it's really exciting
to see it all come together.
It's just great when things
start all flowing together.
It's been a long time,
and it's been a lot of fun.
A lot of frustration sometimes,
but it's been an awful lot of fun.
It really lifts off in a hurry, too.
There it goes!
Isn't it beautiful?
It's gotta be exciting.
It is really exciting for him.
It is really exciting for him.
At 65 miles an hour, she soars again,
one of four airworthy Jennys
in the world today.
Forgotten skills have been relearned,
and in the skies over
the Virginia countryside,
a priceless treasure from
our past now lives again.
In Auburn, Indiana,
another treasure is up for sale,
its value to be determined by
the highest bidder.
You now have one of the rarest
opportunities ever available
in your lifetime to purchase
one of the finest restored Duesenbergs
in the history of the world...
One of the greatest Duesenbergs
ever created
and one of the finest restoration
ever sampled on the Duesenberg automobile
right here in Auburn, Indiana.
How much do you want to bid?
Who will give one million
five hundred thousand?
Who will give...
A model J Duesenberg glitters on
the auction block,
and wealthy collectors who wish to
possess it must pay the price.
I got 500,
and now 750?
Anybody wants to bid
from 500 to now 750?
I got 500 now,
anybody wants to get 750?
I got 600, and now 700.
Anybody wants to bid in?
I got 600,
anybody wants to bid 700?
Lorance, you want to
bid with the same two bidders?
And 700. Now we 800.
Anybody wants to bid in?
Now 900. There. 900.
Yes. He.
And 900. You'd better bid
one million dollars. Anybody else?
And 900. You'd better bid
one million dollars to get you bid in.
And 900.
Anybody else?
Would you get 950?
maybe you can help me get the million
Going once, 950.
going twice, 950,000.
Anybody else? At 950,
I close the bidding right
here at 900,000 dollars.
In the presence of a Model J,
people tend to get stirred up.
It's part of a legacy left by
Fred and August Duesenberg,
who grew up on a farm
near Rockford, Iowa,
just before the turn of the century.
Mechanically minded as young boys,
they became innovators
of engine technology.
But their first love was racing,
the Indianapolis Speedway
was the crucible
where new designs were put to the test.
In the 1920s,
their engineering genius brought
the checkered flat tree times.
In 1928, at their Indianapolis plant,
they created the ultimate
passenger car.
The owner of a super-charged Model J
could cruise in luxury
at 115 miles an hour.
In Hollywood, the Duesenberg became
the mark of a star.
Clark Gable owned two.
Gary Cooper's was goldenrod yellow
with pale green fenders.
James Cagney smiled behind the wheel.
But the Depression finally caught up
with the Duesenberg.
Less than 500 had been built when the
assembly line shut down for good.
Duesenberg owners form
an exclusive club.
In Auburn, Indiana,
they gather every Labor Day weekend
to parade their restored Model Js
before an admiring crowd
of automotive enthusiasts.
Owners love their Duesenbergs
were further than enthusiasm.
Many obsessed to perfections.
Others simply enjoyed
the status to come with ownership.
And pride, the showing off their
treasures to the thousands who come to look.
Some restored their Duesenbergs
not to drive them, but to compete.
Auburn native Phil Allison judges
a restoration.
Growing up around classic cars,
he restores them today
for wealthy collectors.
One of the best descriptive terms
I've ever heard,
and it's not mine
I get it from Gordon Buehrig's book.
And the title of his book is
Rolling Sculptures.
Morning, Ron. Have they brought the
Murphy convertible in yet?
Yes.
And I think that it so neatly defines
the work on these cars,
whether it be the Duesenberg
or the Cord.
They were such unique cars,
and they are truly works of art.
I know for years I was always hoping
for the opportunity to
get to do a Duesenberg.
Now we have three in our shop.
And so...
Now we have arrived.
Today, let's get started on
dismantling this car.
Once owned by movie actor
Tyrone Power, Model J Number 391
has just been purchased for $610,000.
Spruced up for the cheap coat of paint
by its most recent owner
No.391 will now be restored to
original condition of the grown up.
We will probably spend around
two years on the car.
Maybe not quite that long,
but it will be close.
And there is a lot of things
uh... restoration.
but unsuggested can be hurried
duro on that car
Several missing parts
and it don't go in logo-parts orderly.
go to find them and there be several
lighten on the difficulty come up with.
and we can find them have to be fabricative.
and it all take times.
To do a total restoration,
we're talking about
dismantling the car completely.
Then the rear end,
or differential-rear-axle assembly,
will be totally gone through.
The engine and transmission will
be totally rebuilt.
The exhaust manifolds will
be reporcelained.
The Duesenberg engine has an
excessive amount of aluminum on it,
which has to be highly polished.
There's a lot of hours of just
polishing and cleaning.
The chroming itself is a
major process.
It's a triple plating.
You first cover it with copper and
then it's buffed,
then it's nickled, then it's buffed,
Then it's chromed,
and then it's chrome-buffed.
A lot of times
we like to have a car sit
for four to six weeks just in primer.
Then it's blocked.
Then we put on maybe four to five
coast of lacquer
and let it set for another
four to six weeks.
Once it's totally cured,
then we'll sand off maybe
three of four of those coats of paint
and blocking it out.
And then we'll put on another
four to five coats,
let it set for another
four to six weeks,
and we'll probably end up sanding
off two or three of those coats.
And that's how we get the
high luster-high depth finish.
It takes obviously a fair amount of
money to fund a project like this,
and a lot of people are not in a
financial position to do this
until they're on in years.
And some customers express concern
that they're not going to live long
enough to see the finished product.
I think in most cases they are being
a little facetious,
but I can appreciate that when you
look at a long-term project
in your later years,
it could be a concern.
Restored for the pleasure of those
very few who can afford it,
the Duesenberg lives on
in Auburn, Indiana.
But in a city for away,
heroic endeavors are recovering
the treasures of a nation
for all the world to see.
Through the heart of Leningrad
flows the Neva River.
Along these banks nearly
three centuries ago,
one man created a great city
St. Petersburg
which became the capital of imperial Russia.
Today, Peter the Great still
looks out over his city.
With watchful eye he gazes
on wondrous visions...
...grand and exuberant visions
of a tsar
who like his country, was strong and proud
...fairy-tale places sprung up
as if by magic...
...country playgrounds for the
imperial court of Peter
and his successors...
...designed by the great
architects of Europe,
created from exquisite materials
by a multitude of craftsmen
summoned from afar.
On long winter nights,
these rooms were made brilliant
by candlelight reflected a
thousand fold in crystal mirrors.
Light danced on paintings overhead
and set the walls ablaze with color.
Light burned in gilded faces,
as costumed nobility
danced into the night.
They waltzed on parquet floors of
wood from the forests
of Europe and Asia, designed
in astonishing patterns.
Surrounded by their treasures,
the stars and their court waltzed
on into the 20th century.
The dance ended with the
Russian Revolution in 1917,
but the palaces lived on as museums.
Then distant rumblings in Europe
suddenly exploded on their doorstep.
In 1941 Nazi forces
surrounded Leningrad.
Hitler planned to level the city,
but the Soviet Army would not yield.
During the siege, the Nazis occupied
four palaces on the city outskirts.
After 900 days they withdrew,
burning the palaces as they left.
When the fires died,
a nation's treasures lay in ruin.
At the Catherine Palace,
chimneys protruded from a roofless skeleton.
Statues-victims of bombshells
and gunfire.
Stillness filled the Great Hall.
Parquet floors lay charred
under a blanket of winter snow.
A soldier in the Soviet Army,
Alexander Kedrinsky
remembers the siege.
After the Nazi retreat,
he entered the Catherine Palace.
On this spot in the Great Hall,
he looked up through broken rafters
at the winter sky.
Inside the palace, the interiors
that were not burned were looted.
Pictures had been viciously
slashed out of their frames;
only the outer edges remained.
Doors were broken away.
Paintings were on the floor, cut to pieces.
That's one thing.
The other thing is that there were
land mines hidden everywhere,
and the palace itself
was set to blow up.
Beneath it was a series of
one-ton bombs wired together
to go up in a single blast.
It's a miracle that the first
soldiers to enter the palace gates
after the German retreat
discovered this system and disarmed it.
The park around the palace
was dug up everywhere
with trenches and gun emplacements.
And in the middle lay the
charred hulk of the palace.
The palace decorations were strewn
about the park in pieces.
Sculpture marms, head, torsos
lay all about.
The picture was so terrible
and depressing
that one's first impression was
that resurrecting it would be impossible.
On the other hand,
people could not reconcile themselves
to blotting out a page of history,
the glorious history
of these monuments.
And so we decided
to undertake the restoration.
Pieces of the ruined palaces were
scattered everywhere,
hastily hidden before the siege.
From fields, from secret vaults,
from the hands of retreating Nazis,
even from the Neva River,
the missing pieces were returned.
Restoration could now begin.
A painter and engineer,
Kedrinsky directed work
at the Catherine Palace.
We long to re-create these monuments,
he said at the time,
but do we have the guts to do it?
Under his direction,
scores of artists and craftsmen
began to rebuild the palace.
Today Alexander Kedrinsky works with
a new generation of artisans
who use original architectural drawings
and prewar photographs
that miraculously survived
the destruction.
From an old black-and-white
photograph,
a painted ceiling comes to life.
The design is rendered in color,
and figures are drawn to scale
by artists trained in period
styles and techniques.
Designs are modified and approved
before the painting begins.
For hours at a time they
reach overhead.
Standing so close to the ceiling,
these artists are unable
to see the entire painting at once.
Skill and planning guide them
where their eyes cannot.
After three years of work,
the ceiling is almost finished.
Parts of a statue were retrieved
from the palace grounds.
From these shattered limbs
a body is reformed.
A wood carver creates anew
what fire and shrapnel destroyed.
With clay, he models a missing twin
that he will later replicate in wood.
On the statue's chest,
a fracture is mended,
and a wound is healed.
Once again,
carvings are adorned with gold.
Though each leaf weighs
almost nothing,
nearly 20 pounds of gold were needed
to refurbish the Great Hall.
Guided into place by human breath
and held there by rabbit-skin glue,
the gold is burnished
with an amber rod.
Gilded faces blaze again.
The palaces are reborn.
The glory that was imperial Russia
radiates from every quarter once again
but today it shines
with new brilliance.
Reflected in the symmetry of
crystal mirrors is the labor of
modern craftsmen who have saved
the treasures of a nation.
In 1944, Peter's portrait was found
in shredded fragments,
scattered in the snow.
Today, the scars are almost invisible.
We rebuild these palaces to celebrate
those who built them long ago,
says Kedrinsky,
but we need another 20 years
before our work is finished.
Today, from atop his horse,
Peter the Great gazes on a miracle.
Through heroic endeavors
his vision lives on.
The farming country of eastern
Colorado is far from Leningrad,
but the passion to save a treasure
can be found here as well.
Compared to the Russian court,
life in Burlington, Colorado, is basic
but on the county fairground stands
a treasure that might well
have delighted the Russian nobility.
How you doing?
All right.
Local citizens brought this treasure
here some 60 years ago,
and today it is the pride of
Kit Carson County.
In the morning light,
fantastic animals awake on
what many herald as the
"Jewel of American Carousels."
Because it was the sixth machine built
by the Philadelphia Toboggan Company,
it is known as PTC #6.
Caring for this
unusual menagerie is
an art conservator named Will Morton.
In recent years,
he restored the animals
from decades of deterioration
and unveiled whimsical piece
of American history.
PTC #6 was built in 1905
when carousels spun their
magic the world over.
In 1928, it was bought second-hand
for $1,250 by Kit Carson County.
At the fair that year,
citizens paid five cents
for a five-minute ride,
but this frivolous purchase
would cost the county
commissioners their jobs.
Dust storms and the Depression
brought hard times
to Kit Carson County.
Homeless families lived
on the fairground.
The carousel building was used to
store feed
and became infested with rats and snakes.
There was talk of burning it down.
Somehow PTC #6 survived,
but it was never quite the same.
Its magic vanished,
and as each year passed,
neglect moved it ever closer
to the edge of ruin.
In 1979 a group of concerned citizens
brought Will Morton from Denver
to preserve and restore it.
A lot of carousels have been
refurbished,
but this is the first one
to my knowledge that was
conserved and restored as a work
of art might be;
that is, Where we have made
every possible effort to
preserve the original material
that we found here
and to protect it
as you would with a piece of fine art.
As he lifts the veil of time,
Morton finds traces of
Victorian artisans
whose pencil marks look as though
they were drawn only moments ago.
Surrounded by their creations,
will senses the spirit of
those craftsmen lurking nearby.
I spend days here alone
just working on the carousel.
Your mind is going a mile a minute
even though your hand
may not be or the project
doesn't seem to be going all that fast.
Nevertheless,
your mind is going.
And so you're picturing the people
who made this carousel,
what they were thinking.
I think part of doing a good job
in restoration
is discovering the people
that made the thing
trying to put yourself in their place.
And that's why I insist on doing
things the way they did them.
Will Morton has preserved more than
Now he restores
what has been worn away.
The Wallitzer monster military band organ
is the heart and soul of the PTC #6
Over the year
Water damage, heat, humidity
and hungry rats all play habit
of this vital parts.
After 1200 hours of restoration
the monster gets to check up.
Good afternoon and welcome to our
third performance of the 1986
Kit Carson County Fair and Rodeo.
Every year in early August,
people come from all over
Kit Carson County
to ride PTC #6 once again.
Today a ride costs 25 cents,
but it lasts a full seven minutes.
I would like to look down from
some place beyond 50 years from now
and feel that I'm being complimented
by the restorer who's then at work,
saying that the man who did this
in the first place did a good job,
and I'm pleased with what he did.
On the plains of eastern Colorado
another year passes.
On a summer night,
the carousel spins dream
that will not be forgotten in years to come
The Age of Sail reached
its height in the 19th century
when global voyages
were made in tall ships.
The forces of nature were
harnessed by experienced hands,
but when canvas was replaced by steam,
the tall ships and a maritime
tradition quietly vanished.
In the port of Athens
the rusted hull of a once tall ship
is destined for the scrapyard.
In her hundred-year life-span,
she sailed under many names
and many flags.
Now Elissa will be reborn.
She was launched in Aberdeen,
Scotland, in 1877.
In 1979,
her hull is made sound
and she is towed across the Atlantic
to the port city of Galveston, Texas,
which has adopted Elissa
to symbolize the heyday
of its maritime past.
Long ago she sailed into Galveston,
and it is here on
Galveston's waterfront
that Elissa's reconstruction begins.
And a course of America people
come to rebuild her
Since about 19 century commode life
the absolutely skills are learned again.
A new deck is caulked with hemp
and sealed with pitch.
Self-taught riveters add plates
to her hull.
Tree trunks are turned into masts.
Costs rise into the millions,
but funds are raised.
With a iron and wood renewed
Ellisa will sail again.
and carried in her figure-head
the spirit of those ever new her.
In 1986, Elissa is bound for New York
to once again become a part of history
Galveston's mayor being the group farewell.
terrigenous Ellisa project, David Brink.
and all of you to be vault with Ellisa.
your dream has truly grown to a miracle.
broaching the yellow rose to Texas.
Ellisa's figure head points away
a prowl to go to Mexico.
she was manned by 8 deckhands.
Today she is sailed by
hard-working volunteers.
Let's go, guys. Let's go to the sails.
Their footing is less sure,
but perhaps more eager
because they have helped to
restore and maintain her.
Executive secretary and grandmother,
Judy Peters became
a volunteer six years ago.
And I didn't know anything
but I sure that I could help it
so they like to teach me
what I need to know.
I came down literally scared to death
but I knew I wanted to help
and I knew that they needed help.
And I was willing and I was able.
Some of the job that could be hard
to do and I wouldn't.
but I'll do for free for cause of Ellisa
for the future.
Steady it on 115.
OK. That was sided to the left.
Fine, uh...
Pier, what we do is that you always
take it slight inside the long braces.
Overseeing Elissa's restoration
has been the responsibility
of Walter Rybka.
Why don't you always help Pierre
with the slacking side of the braces.
I think the key idea of
this restoration is that
this ship is not so much an artifact
as it is a process.
We're not so much concerned with her past
as we are with our future.
What we're interested in is
the values and the crafts
and the skills and everything
that gave the world this beauty.
We'd like to be a part of our lives
now and carry it forward in the future.
So the Elissa is as much a process
as it is a product.
Under gray skies,
Elissa sails north along
the Atlantic coast.
Go as far as you can till you get
where you want to stop.
John Elder, a business executive,
summons the courage to go aloft
with project director, David Brink.
Big step over to that little
crane line there.
Grab the chain with your right hand.
Swing over.
That's it. Good.
Now before you hit the foot ropes,
say "laying on" just for practice.
All the way over to the yard.
Great.
Okay, I did it.
Okay. It would help if I came over,
wouldn't it?
Just let that fall.
Okay.
Now pass that under.
Double back over.
No, no, don't pull.
No, no, don't pull
it all the way through.
As she approaches New York,
Elissa is not alone.
From all over the world,
tall ships are coming to
celebrate the restoration
of the Statue of Liberty
on her 100th birthday.
We've got the battleship Iowa
overtaking us on the port.
Traffic.
Cars.
An urban world emerges through
fog and mist.
The sight brings mixed emotions.
I think there is
a sense of possibly
letting go for the crew.
The crew thinks of Elissa as their own
and rightfully so.
We're the folks that have maintained
her and sailed her up till now.
We don't mind sharing her
with everyone else,
but there is a little bit of a
feeling of letting her go.
After the rest of this weekend,
particularly Friday,
she's not going to belong to
just us anymore.
She's going to belong to the world.
Elissa last entered New York Harbor
in 1884,
just two years before
the Statue of Liberty was unveiled.
Today a crew of volunteers has
brought her here once again,
and after a century,
two ladies greet each other
for the very first time.
The moment is savored by the crew,
but the celebration is about to begin.
The spectacle unfolds,
and Elissa takes her place.
She is the oldest of the large square
riggers in the parade.
Not long ago,
Liberty welcomed tall ships
from around the world
to a flourishing America.
Today, one by one,
tall ships return to salute her,
as America renews her past.
Elissa has earned
her place in history,
and now her moment has come.
It's amazing just to think how it
all comes down to one moment.
Here you are.
Everybody knows.
It's a great, great feeling.
She passes the reviewing stands
that line the shore.
Everybody was so proud of her
that she was there,
she was volunteers had done it.
And it made everybody see that
anybody can be a part of restoration.
You don't have to be a somebody.
It takes all the
little people to do it.
Volunteers have brought life to a
dying ship
and have restored the knowledge
that can renew her again and again.
Revived with the human spirit,
fragments of our past
become our treasures.
They mirror who we are.
They become living monuments
to the achievements of out past
and living testaments
to our hopes for the future.
Passing though the hands of
one crew to the next,
a tall ship is on a
journey through time.
Perhaps in years to come
the sight of her sails will
inspire others to voyage forth...
to fulfill their destinies...
to cherish their treasures
as they cross new horizons to places
that live today only in our dreams.