Lindberg Terminal circa 1940

Blue mountains. That was the scene that greeted paying visitors to the largest HO museum layout in the country and many of us in the San Diego Model Railroad Club were less than satisfied about that. Being one of the older sections of the layout, the scenery had changed over time and lacked the look of realism and professionalism. As a first impression, it wasn't likely to be improved by the long stretch of empty plywood and track that lay beyond the blue hills and represented downtown San Diego.

As John Fiscella began a long and meticulous process to bring the scene back to life, I began to voice out loud my growing belief that the entrance to the museum needed something more, something that immediately anchored the visitors in time and space, and that would draw them into the yet-to-be-created San Diego of the mid-40s to early 1950s.

Lindberg Field was the largest landmark between the Santa Fe Union Station and the blue hills that under John's hand, were rapidly resembling Rose Canyon to the North. As a pilot, my own interest in aviation led me to research the history of Lindberg Field.

Roger Adam obtained photographs from the San Diego Historical Society (seen above), that showed the original terminal on the West side of the field across from the railroad tracks. On our layout we had the space available, unplanned, and right up against the glass for optimum viewing. Although it would involve some scale compression from downtown, it would be no more than already required to include the Rose Canyon scene.

The airport building itself was a beautiful Spanish stucco structure whose small size would permit installing a scale model in its entirety and yet be dwarfed by the Santa Fe terminal just down the line. Indeed, the relative sizes and location would further emphasize to a modern public, the supremacy of rail travel in the 1950's.

Initial survey crews appeared on the layout and earnest negotiations for a land contract were begun with layout landowners. Meanwhile there remained the problem of exactly how to reproduce the terminal. No blueprints or other floor plans were known to exist and of the few remaining photographs, virtually none depicted a straight-on aspect of the structure. Determining the size of architectural features required a blend of estimation and intuition. Vehicles, people, and signposts were compared to door and window frame heights. In several of the photos, the Ryan aircraft on display inside the terminal was visible and provided a good check of overall space since its wingspan and length were known. Eventually I began to draw an entire set of blueprints based mostly on our educated estimations.

As I progressed, I developed an intuitive feel for the architect's intent, and the style and balance of the building began to dictate what certain dimensions needed to be. From the detailed drawing, construction was straightforward. The structure was scratch-built entirely from basswood. In many cases several thin layers had to be stacked up in order to capture some of the details and recesses. The windows were done on Microsoft Excel and printed on slightly tinted acetate. This technique allowed for great detail and exact replication of the numerous panes and inset doors. The model was painted with white acrylic paint that was stippled when partially dry to give it the look of stucco.

Although the original research had been conducted while I was stationed with the Navy in San Diego, initial drawings were done during my subsequent 6-month assignment in Antarctica. Afterwards I returned home in Ohio where final blueprints were completed and construction was progressing smoothly. Real estate negotiations in California were a different matter however. Drawings and templates had been shipped back and forth as Brian Viets, the project's public defender on the spot, had bartered for more space. Hemmed in by glass, the railroad right-of-way, and a yet-to-be-built highway; a footprint was finally agreed upon with downtown developers with the stipulation that no plaster-breaking ceremony could occur until the completed terminal had been seen and approved. No problem. The completed terminal was on the back porch to allow the final coat of paint to dry. No problem, that is, until I got caught away from the house during a heavy Ohio thunderstorm. I found the paint dry when I returned but the entire structure had warped like a leaf! It was immediately moved to the top of a dehumidifier in a closed room for four days of intensive therapy. Unbelievably it un-warped and seemed to show no signs of being the worse for the wear. Disassembled in two pieces, it was carefully packed as hand-carry airline luggage and we were off to San Diego.

At its unveiling, the sudden appearance of a new and large structure temporarily blinded all but the ousted real estate developers to the fact that aircraft cabin pressure changes and California climate changes had caused a slight bow to reappear in the structure; a defect that Brian Viets would later straighten out. Groundbreaking was undertaken that very night and green hills gave way to pavement as a permanent home at last was made.

Final placement of the terminal on the layout was delayed by a year as museum construction began directly overhead, however the delay allowed Brian Viets to populate the terminal with figures, automobiles, and palm trees. He also added interior structure since the model was to be lighted. I had deliberately omitted much of the internal detail in the hopes of eventually finding someone who could recall the floor plan details. In the end, Brian and I were forced to make our best guess and figured that if no one was left who could remember the details then they couldn't argue with our modeling.

In the early days the terminal also served as a sales showroom for Ryan Aircraft Company and their flying school. This was the company, although in different warehouse space, that produced Charles Lindberg's "Spirit of St. Louis" Ryan monoplane in which he completed the first solo, non-stop, trans-Atlantic crossing. In period photos their large hanger just north of the terminal was a dominant feature and captures the flavor of aviation at that time. As it happened, long before I envisioned the Lindberg Terminal on our layout I had come across a general feed store kit that had high arched walls scored in wood siding. It seemed perfect for modifying into an airplane hanger and practicing some scratch-building techniques. Although considerably smaller than the actual Ryan hanger, the model fit the little space remaining on our footprint and we included it to further portray the state of aviation during the golden age of railroads.

Even on one of the largest HO layouts in the country, space has its limits and it is important to make every inch count. In a space that was once little more than grass fields we now have a scene to draw visitors into our world, establish time and place, educate them about local history and highlight the dominance that railroads once held over aviation and in our lives.

- Demetri Capetanopoulos, 2001