Is That A Huey?

“Is that a Huey Helicopter?” I asked myself as I caught a glimpse of the classic chopper out of the corner of my eye. I was snaking through the town of Pampa, TX making my way back to the interstate. I was in the middle of a weeklong road trip for work, gliding through one anonymous town after another. Living on the highway free from the repetition of the interstate, I had seen some unique things before, made note, and kept going. However, any building with a vintage Huey Helicopter out front deserved a closer look. I turned around and pulled up outside the optimistically named Freedom Museum (600 Hobart St, Pampa, TX).

I entered the former water pumping station built in the 1930s with small expectations. I guessed I would see a handful of vehicles, uniforms, banners, or old military daggers that are so common in these small collections. As I entered, knowledgeable volunteer James Baird greeted me as though he knew I was coming. Mr. Baird, a longtime resident of Pampa, had been stationed there with the Air force in the late 30’s. He told me that I could take as many photos as I wanted and that there was no charge for admittance though I could donate whatever I wanted. He then spent the better part of the next hour personally showing me around. As we moved from display to display, Mr. Baird told me the story of each person whose artifacts were in the museum. The collection was a mixture of loaned items from the government and private donations from Pampa residents. Less like a museum, this was more a community attic. While most artifacts were in cases, you could smell the objects. The sterile, climate controlled atmosphere of a “professional” museum was replaced by the approachable familiarity of humanity. There was no self-awareness to the items. They were not so much on display as they were just put down and I happened to come by and see them.

We then moved outside where I looked at, touched, and in some cases climbed inside many of the vehicles they have in back. Like the more personal items inside, the vehicles were accessible in a way that allowed me to not just examine them, but to experience them. I occupied the driver’s seat in a transport truck and got the feel for an era that had yet to appreciate ergonomics.

I wandered into the Freedom Museum expecting the quick consumption of commoditized nostalgia. What I got was a personal moment of discovery facilitated by the history of others. You’ve got to love the surprises of the road. Dan Davis