Secretary Lonnie Bunch Reflects on His Extraordinary Career at the Smithsonian

On the eve of his retirement, Bunch explains the Smithsonian’s role in preserving history

Established in 1846, the Smithsonian Institution is the world’s largest museum, education, and research complex. The person who oversees the entire Institution has the charmingly British title of Secretary. The current Secretary is Lonnie G. Bunch III, the son of a U.S. military veteran who served in World War II. Bunch is a widely published author who has held teaching positions at universities across the U.S. His work as a historian includes serving as the president of the Chicago Historical Society and as the associate director for curatorial affairs at the National Museum of American History. Until he was named Secretary in 2019, the pinnacle of Bunch’s career was his role as the founder and first director of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture. In his 2019 book, A Fool’s Errand, Bunch writes about the long and sometimes challenging process of searching for artifacts that show the richness of African American culture, while also securing the funding to build the new museum. As the United States celebrates its 250th anniversary, Bunch spoke with Air & Space Quarterly senior editor Diane Tedeschi about the importance of making history accessible

Your Smithsonian career started at the National Air and Space Museum. What did you do there, and how did it shape your work as a historian?

At the time, I was finishing up my Ph.D. at American University, and I was broke. I was living on a [teaching assistant] salary, and I was about a year away from getting an academic job when I ran into a returning student. She said her husband worked at the Smithsonian, and that I should talk to him about job openings. And I remember thinking: “Who works at the Smithsonian? That’s where you take dates because it’s free.” So I went down and because I wasn’t going to get a job, I had an old army officer’s jacket on. I had a big Afro. And the person I met was the head of science, David Challinor, who said, “I want you to meet the Secretary.” 

And I remember saying to him—this is how little I knew—I said, “I don’t type.” I thought they were trying to get me into the typing pool. I met the Secretary and I’m just chatting away because I’m not going to get a job. Finally, he said: “We might want to hire you.” And I said, “Well, okay. I could work over at [what was then] History and Technology.” He said: “No, no, no. We only have a job at the National Air and Space Museum.” And I said, “Sir, I’m a 19th-century historian. I don’t know anything about aerospace.” And he said, “Young man, how much money are you making now?” I told him. He said, “You’ll make five times that at Air and Space.” To which I quickly replied: “Yes, I am an air and space guy.”

My new job was basically three quarters in the Museum’s education department and one quarter writing history in the aeronautics department. I came to the Smithsonian in 1977, and left in the summer of ’79 to go teach at the University of Massachusetts. It was an amazing time because it was just a year after the Museum had opened [on July 1, 1976]. I was hired by the Museum’s director, who was Apollo 11 astronaut Michael Collins. 

During my two years at the Museum, I was struck by the commitment to making aviation and space history accessible to everyone. One of my responsibilities, in fact, was to teach people sign language. I also learned how to work with schools and educators, and I learned these things from the most gifted people I’d ever worked with. They were impressive scholars, and by working alongside them, I learned how to write history in a way that was engaging and accessible to a general audience. My goal of teaching at a university was still a worthy one, but working at the Smithsonian could give you a national classroom and you could have an impact that was transformative.

I’ve since realized that almost every job I’ve ever gotten was because of my two years at Air and Space. People were like: “Oh, my gosh, you were at Air and Space.” My time there was the most life-changing thing I’ve ever experienced professionally. It was also where I met my wife, who was an intern there from George Washington University. I did eventually become a teacher at a university, but I was already hooked by the ability to look at history through objects and to get the public excited about the human stories behind museum artifacts. In short, my job at Air and Space taught me that history is far too important to just be in the hands of historians. 

You could argue that the Wright Flyer is the most seminal artifact in the Museum’s collection. What can our visitors learn from Orville and Wilbur?

The new exhibition—The Wright Brothers & The Invention of the Aerial Age—really makes the Wright brothers accessible. It lets you understand the societal and engineering challenges they faced and the kind of intellectual creativity that was required to make possible powered, controlled, heavier-than-air flight. During the pandemic, I bought a house in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. When I have visitors, I always take them to the dunes near Kitty Hawk, where Wilbur and Orville methodically tested their kites and gliders before making history on December 17, 1903. Being able to walk on the ground where this momentous event took place is so meaningful, and it only reinforces the great admiration I have for the Wright brothers.

Is there something about the United States that fosters the kind of world-changing inventions contributed by people like Wilbur and Orville?

America has always been this place of possibility, right? In the land of the free, any one individual has the potential to change the world. Ten years after the invention of the airplane, for example, Henry Ford recognized that technology would make him a better businessman. In 1913, he introduced the moving assembly line to the automobile industry, which increased production and made his Model Ts affordable. Other car manufacturers soon emulated Ford, and eventually thousands of Black Americans left poverty in the South to go work in those sprawling factories in Detroit. Car ownership was a badge of personal independence—literally giving people the freedom to move about the country. You could make the case that Ford’s implementation of the moving assembly line had a huge ripple effect—far beyond job creation and affordable transportation. One of America’s greatest strengths is when different people bump into each other and learn from each other. Mass car ownership helped break down social, economic, and geographic barriers.

In addition to the Museum’s 50th anniversary, the Smithsonian is also celebrating the 250th birthday of our nation. The Declaration of Independence famously mentions life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, affirming the United States as a land that recognizes the rights of individuals. Can you talk about the importance of self-determination?

I think the greatest power of America is that America is as much an ideal as it is a place. And people have protested, voted, and died to try to make concrete the ideals of liberty, fairness, justice, and equality. I don’t believe we’ll ever get to the promised land, but the aspiration to be a more perfect union has set us on the path of progress. Whether we’re talking about the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, or unionized labor—these are all ways that Americans have made real the words of the Declaration of Independence.

I’m going to switch things up a bit. Tell me what you remember about Apollo 11 astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landing on the Moon in July 1969.

It was a moment when the whole world stepped back to marvel at American creativity, to revel in American innovation. My dad was a scientist, and engineering was really important to him. He seldom ever said: “We need to watch something.” But this time, he said, “We need to come together as a family and watch this.” When the lunar module set down on the Moon, my father was beaming, because he knew that what we were seeing was an example of what happens when a nation comes together. I remember this moment like it was yesterday. The Moon was no longer just a body in the solar system—it was now a symbol of national triumph.

And to think that the Museum now has the Apollo 11 command module, in which Michael Collins orbited the Moon.

When I was first hired by Michael Collins, we walked around the Museum. I was this 25-year-old kid, and I don’t know why he took the time to do this, but during our tour I asked him: “Did you feel left out that you didn’t get to the Moon?” And he said: “How many people got as close as I did?” I’ve never forgotten that.

NASA’s exploration of space hasn’t come without loss of life. When history is dark or tragic, what is the Smithsonian’s role in telling these types of stories?

I believe strongly that it is our responsibility to tell a complete and full history. When I was working on a Smithsonian project in Japan, for example, my Japanese colleagues always used to say to me: “Lonnie, you’re leading this project, and we’re worried. We want to show light, you want to show dark.” And I said, “No, I want to show both.” You can’t understand the triumphs without understanding the tragedies. Many of our Smithsonian exhibitions, in fact, show that human advancement is often achieved only through courage, creativity, and loss.

As our country celebrates its 250th birthday this year, what can be we be proud of?

More than anything else, the 250th teaches us that there’s very little we can’t accomplish as a nation. If we tap the fullness of who we are and call on the diversity of our talents, we really can be that shining city on the hill—a beacon of hope for the world to see.

---

Diane Tedeschi is Air & Space Quarterly's senior editor.

---

This article, originally titled "A Place of Possibility," is from the Summer 2026 issue of Air & Space Quarterly, the National Air and Space Museum's signature magazine that explores topics in aviation and space, from the earliest moments of flight to today. Explore the full issue.

Want to receive ad-free hard copies of Air & Space Quarterly? Join the Museum's National Air and Space Society to subscribe.

Diane Tedeschi | Read More

Diane Tedeschi is a senior editor at Air & Space Quarterly.