Five years ago, when I set out to photograph all 30 surviving Blackbird airframes, I knew that A-12 Article 128 would be the most challenging to obtain. She lies inside the high security walls of CIA Headquarters in McLean, VA and the public is not permitted to tour the facility. Try as I might, my attempts to visit were blocked over the years. I learned that the director of the Smithsonian wasn’t allowed to bring a camera during his visit. I expressed this goal to a blackbird pilot who told me, “The CIA does not humor things like that.” After years of discouragement, I could have given up, but that’s not me. My hope and determination never wavered.
Through careful networking and polite persistence, I finally found the right people; people that saw my belief in service to nation and the agency’s mission. I discovered that the men and women of the Central Intelligence Agency are passionate about educating the public about their work and were willing to give Project Habu the privilege of sharing their story. The timing couldn’t have been better. In November 2018, Article 128 was coming out of a complete restoration and the fall colors were in full bloom. I scheduled my visit. Finally, Project Habu could share the complete story of the Blackbird program.
Shaking with adrenaline, I drove to the base and mentally prepared myself for taking pictures with no chance of a do-over. I had lived and worked on military bases for years, but this was different. This was Langley. This was The Compound. This was a plot of land with intelligence history dating back to the Civil War, where Thaddeus Lowe’s balloons were launched carrying men to report troop movement during the birth of aerial reconnaissance. This was hallowed ground.
The agency could not have been more welcoming to Project Habu. I walked through the Original Headquarters Building Memorial Lobby and scanned the names of the fallen agents in the Book of Honor, immediately spotting the names of Walt Ray and Jack Weeks, the two fallen A-12 pilots. I talked reconnaissance history with the people who were actively making that history and shared stories of my grandfather, who was a CIA contractor employee working as a Lockheed Skunk Works engineer. This put me in the perfect mindset to take the photos that I had been dreaming about for years.
As golden hour began, we traveled to Article 128, gleaming in the sunset, cleverly mounted with an 8 degree pitch up and a 9 degree left roll, symbolizing the aircraft’s 85,000 to 90,000 ft cruising altitude. Under the bird, two black stars memorialize Ray and Weeks. These stars do not protrude outward, but are carved into the concrete of the memorial, symbolizing the agency losing a piece of themselves, but forever changing the shape of the agency so these men will never be forgotten.
All too soon, the sun disappeared over the horizon and my photo shoot was finished. For a half decade, I had pre-visualized images of Article 128 with fall colors blazing in the background. These images were now baked into my SD card. The surreal experience was over and my belief was further solidified that no matter how slim the odds, no matter how many naysayers, you must never let your dreams remain as dreams. Anything is possible and the men and women of the Central Intelligence Agency prove that on a daily basis. I thank each of them for helping me make these images a reality.
