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B‑17 inside Hangar B (my photo)
News from the Port of
Tillamook Bay this week confirmed what many had feared: the Port’s Board of Commissioners voted not to repair the storm‑damaged roof of Hangar B. A
December windstorm tore open a 200‑foot‑long gash in the timber shell, and
after months of analysis, the Board concluded that even with potential FEMA
assistance, the required local match—about $1.3 million for the damaged portion
alone—would put the rest of the Port’s operations at financial risk.
Commissioners also noted that long‑term maintenance costs already exceeded the
building’s revenue several times over.
Hangar B is the largest clear‑spanwooden structure in the world: over 1,000 feet long, 300 feet wide, and nearly
200 feet tall. The Navy completed it in 1942 to house blimps that patrolled the
coast during World War II. Tillamook originally had two of these enormous
timber hangars; Hangar A burned in 1992, leaving Hangar B as the sole survivor
on the site. Only a few comparable structures still stand nationwide. Two
remain at Moffett Field in California, and one survives at Tustin after its
twin burned in 2023. At the other former blimp bases, the hangars exist only in
fragments—foundations, partial walls, isolated arches—after decades of fires,
dismantling, and structural failures.
I’ve visited the building a
few times over the years and always appreciated both the structure itself and
the range of museum exhibits assembled inside it. The Tillamook Air Museum
collection included military aircraft from assorted eras, along with trainers,
transports, helicopters, homebuilts, commercial cockpits, and the Aero
Spacelines Mini‑Guppy. Even large planes seemed to shrink inside the volume,
which reinforced the sense that the hangar was the primary artifact.
Recent reporting described
steps already underway: fencing installed around the site for public safety, a
completed lidar scan documenting the structure, and coordination with state
emergency officials to record storm‑related costs. Those efforts continue
because they address safety and documentation needs. But the Board’s vote
effectively halts any forward motion toward repair, leaving only stabilization,
cleanup, and administrative work in place. The museum itself has been closed to
visitors since the December storm and will remain closed indefinitely.
The future of Hangar B remains
uncertain. The Board’s vote does not authorize demolition, but it also stops
any repair effort. Consultants who evaluated the building earlier this year
estimated that full restoration would require hundreds of millions of dollars
over several years, while dismantling the structure would cost an estimated
$50–70 million, placing the Port in a difficult position. At this point, any
path toward preservation depends on substantial outside funding, and no such
commitment exists.
Removing a structure of this
size is not a simple matter of equipment and labor. The cost reflects the
presence of hazardous materials, the sheer volume of timber and roofing, the
need for controlled disassembly, and the environmental requirements for handling
contaminated soils and debris. FEMA may help if the damage is classified within
a disaster framework, but even then, the Port would be responsible for a
significant local match. State or federal appropriations are possible but
uncertain, and private philanthropy rarely funds demolition. As a result, the
Port cannot simply walk away from the building, nor can it afford to remove it.
The likely near‑term outcome is continued stabilization, documentation, and
hazard management while the larger question of the hangar’s fate remains
unresolved.
All of this leaves the
building in a precarious position. This week’s vote removes one of the few
remaining paths forward. I’m saddened that a structure of this scale and
ingenuity may not survive, not because of the damage itself, but because the
conditions needed to sustain it are not in place.
