On June 7, 2024, Gen. William A. Anders died at age 90. Bill Anders dedicated his life to aerospace, first as a pilot and then as an astronaut, and his life was filled with inspirational moments for us to reflect upon as we mourn his passing. Just over a year ago, the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum presented him with our Michael Collins Trophy for Lifetime Achievement, a fitting honor for a legendary figure in the aviation and space community. 

General Anders was awarded the Michael Collins Trophy in 2023.

Not just an Apollo astronaut, his career of public service and private endeavors provides a unique opportunity to reflect on how a passion for aviation, engineering, science, and spaceflight can inspire generations. During my two decades of work at the Museum, uncovering Anders’s point of view on artifacts, photography, and spaceflight provided a window through which I came to connect his career with nearly every curatorial and scholarly project I have undertaken. 

 As a young museum professional in 2005, I was lucky enough to encounter General Anders at a museum conference. While in awe of his spaceflight experience, I was fascinated that he started his own museum (Heritage Flight Museum) where he and his family could share their love of flying. (General Anders’s aerospace career began as a fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force.) Over the next few years at this annual conference, and through my curatorial work, our paths crossed, and I shared with him my first published article: a look at “Earthrise” as a way to understand cameras and photography, the connective tissue for people on Earth to comprehend the spaceflight experience of astronauts as our surrogates.

"Earthrise," the way General Bill Anders saw it on December 24, 1968.

In discussing the experience of capturing that iconic photograph, he explained that while people are most familiar with a landscape orientation for the image, his view of the scene in the moment featured the Moon to the left and the Earth to the right in a profile orientation. As there is not a correct up or down in space, his view was as natural as any other, but might be a confusing concept to those back on Earth. My article and continued conversations in person and over email later turned into a dissertation and book, making General Anders a vital piece of my development as a scholar and curator.

My relationship with Anders shifted in 2009 when I took over responsibility for the astronaut chronograph collection. I understood already that staff saw his chronograph as a special case, but it took me well over a decade to grasp why this Omega Speedmaster Professional from Apollo 8 symbolized something deeper for him. I regularly corresponded with General Anders about the chronograph’s condition and location. By this time, it was on display at the U.S. Naval Academy (where he earned his bachelor’s degree before commissioning in the Air Force), and we needed it at our Emil Buehler Conservation Laboratory for conservation inspection and treatment in 2014. 

That inspection revealed extreme corrosion issues, which were resolved through days of work by colleagues from the Omega Museum. I provided the conservation report and photographs to Anders, who appreciated our attention to its care. It was amidst this work that I learned why this singular piece of astronaut equipment meant so much to this astronaut: like a family heirloom, the chronograph’s use in navigation reminded him of his father, a highly decorated Naval officer who likewise had a need for an accurate timekeeping device for ship navigation. Fortunately, we were able to have it on a special limited display during the 2023 Collins Trophy event so General Anders, his family, and other guests could reflect on it as part of his legendary career.

General Anders viewing his Apollo 8 Omega Speedmaster Professional on temporary display in March 2023.

William Anders’s photograph of the Earth appearing from beyond the lunar horizon might be a landmark moment in human history, but we can learn so much more by looking at this world through his eyes. Our planet is fragile and delicate, yes, but also a place rich in opportunities and passions. Describing his life as an engineer, pilot, astronaut, photographer, administrator, ambassador, businessman, museum founder, and public speaker only brushes the surface. He was a devoted son, husband, father, and grandfather. He sought to share his passion for flight with others by establishing a museum where people could not just see historic aircraft in a building, but also see them fly. 

General Anders at the controls of a vintage P-51 Mustang in 2006.

So while we at the National Air and Space Museum commemorate the storied life of General William Anders, we also celebrate the opportunities we had to share in his dream of connecting more people to our passion for aviation and spaceflight.

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