Template Created By: James Nail 2010

WHY CAN’T A WOMAN FLY?: NASA AND THE CULT OF MASCULINITY,

1958-1972

By

Erinn Catherine McComb

A Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of Mississippi State University in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctorate of Philosophy in History in the Department of History

Mississippi State, Mississippi

May 2012 Template Created By: James Nail 2010

Copyright 2012

By

Erinn Catherine McComb Template Created By: James Nail 2010

WHY CAN’T A WOMAN FLY?: NASA AND THE CULT OF MASCULINITY,

1958-1972

By

Erinn Catherine McComb

Approved:

______Alan I Marcus, Chair Jessica Martucci Professor of History Assistant Professor of History (Dissertation Director) (Committee Member)

______Richard V. Damms Mary Kathryn Barbier Associate Professor of History Associate Professor of History (Committee Member) (Committee Member)

______Peter C. Messer Gary L. Myers Associate Professor of History Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences (Graduate Coordinator)

Template Created By: James Nail 2010

Name: Erinn Catherine McComb

Date of Degree: May 12, 2012

Institution: Mississippi State University

Major Field: History

Major Professor: Alan I Marcus

Title of Study: WHY CAN’T A WOMAN FLY?: NASA AND THE CULT OF MASCULINITY, 1958-1972

Pages in Study: 309

Candidate for Degree of Doctorate of Philosophy

This is an investigation into the history of masculinity in spaceflight during some

of the tensest years of the Cold War era. This dissertation asks why the U.S. did not counter the Soviet launch of the first woman into space. Scholars have pieced together the story of American women’s fight for spaceflight. The dissertation adds another layer to this narrative by analyzing the construction of the astronaut image from 1958 to 1972,

a period characterized by a widespread masculinity crisis.

Scholars of Cold War America suggest that Americans saw communism,

conformity, feminism, homosexuality, bureaucracy, corporations, male consumerism,

leisure, automation, and the dreaded “organization man” as a threat to masculinity. The

astronaut was not only a way for Americans to display their superiority over the Soviets;

he also represented a widespread domestic reaction against the threat of automation. I

build on the scholarship of the Cold War masculinity crisis by focusing on how the crisis

played out within the public discourse of the astronaut image. I begin with a narrative of

the Cold War masculinity crisis. Using print media, congressional records, and astronaut

accounts, I explore how the masculinization of spaceflight created a public image of the Template Created By: James Nail 2010

astronaut that mirrored the Cold War masculinity crisis. As the average American man struggled for individuality and control in his own life, the astronaut struggled to exert and maintain individual control over the space capsule. Continuing through the Apollo program, the discourse surrounding the astronaut shifted away from depictions of him as a rugged individual exerting control in space toward an emphasis on the astronaut as a team player who shared control of the capsule with computers, the scientist-astronauts, and Mission Command. In the end, the astronaut struggled to represent a superior masculinity as he increasingly became the corporate organization man, symbolizing the masculinity crisis. The struggle to resolve the masculinity crisis continued as teamwork replaced individualism, hyphenated scientist-astronauts flew into space, and NASA commissioned the first passenger space shuttles.

DEDICATION

To Mom, Mike, and Max—a good dog

ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No one can complete a dissertation alone. As Sally Ride once said, “All adventures, especially into new territory, are scary,” and graduate school proved no exception. I would like to thank all of the history professors at Mississippi State

University for helping me grow as both a person and a historian. Above all, I wish to thank Dr. Alan I Marcus for his wisdom and criticism and without his guidance, I would be lost. The first semester of graduate school forces students to reconfigure their intellectual groundings and my introduction to graduate school wrought with passivity and uncertainty was no acceptation. Jason Phillips encouraged me to overcome the numerous trepidations that often plague young students. Without his guidance, support, and incisiveness, this project would never have seen the light of day. Humor is a valued commodity in graduate school. Richard Damms’s persistent and intellectual incites provided me with the tools necessary that I would need to succeed both in and out of the academic arena. Jessica Martucci has not only helped me think like the gender historian she knows I can be, but I would like to thank her for helping me realize that I am not limited by what my dissertation is, but only by what I can imagine it will become. You are truly a remarkable person, and I know you will have a brilliant career. While still trying to find my voice, Dr. Mary Kathryn Barbier graciously served as my advisor for my first two years at MSU. I would like to thank her for not only an unforgettable trip to

Germany, but also for her much needed advice during our many meetings over the years.

You’re right, Dr. B., I am stronger than I think I am. In my twelve years in a university

iii

setting, I have attended countless lectures. None have been more passionate or inspirational than those given by Dr. Michael V. Williams. It was a pleasure to work with you. I have had several classes and dog sitting adventures with the faculty at MSU, and I owe a debt of gratitude to: Stephen Brain, Amy Gangloff, Jim Giesen, Alison Greene,

Alix Hui, Anne Marshall, Peter Messer, Susan Rensing, and Jason Ward. Graduate school is not only about taking class, but we are encouraged to cultivate relationships with those in our particular field. At the 2010 Society for the History of Technology

(SHOT) conference I had the pleasure of meeting Alan Meyer. He has not only taught me the lost art of knife fighting, but he has spent many thankless hours helping me on the job market. War Eagle!

Archival research is a cold and lonely job. But we love it. I would like to thank various archivists for their assistance. For their many hours spent pulling files for me, I would like to thank the NASA History Office in Washington, D.C. especially Colin Fries,

Liz Suckow, Steven Garber, and Jane Odom. I also wish to thank the staff at the John F.

Kennedy Library in Boston. My fellow graduate student, friend, and Congressional and

Political Research Center archivist at Mitchell Memorial Library, Ryan Semmes, you’re going to do great things for our department. I would like to thank SHOT’s executive secretary Bernie Carlson for the much needed travel grant money. Roger Launius and all the members of SHOT’s Albatross, thank you for your warm welcoming.

When I first arrived at State, I met some pretty awesome people. The office managers, Patsy, Pam, and Lonna, do more for us than they really should. To the original

“dinosaurs,” Micah, Holly, Andi, Jesse, Nathan, Mike, Kirk, Sean, and Katie, I cannot believe we survived this. Alyssa and Cliff, I hope you enjoy a lifetime of parks and recreation. Dr. Allison Dallas, bless your heart….I’ll miss you. Nathan Drake, keep up

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the writing. I know you will have a best seller some day. Furthermore, I could not have

completed this dissertation without the dedicated graduate students that reside in Allen

Hall’s “Middle Earth.” There’s nothing like good times, cheap beer, great conversation,

and even better people. You amaze me. I am so proud of you all. Stop reading this and

publish something. Peter will pass the Jägermeister, just watch out for him on a

racquetball court.

I wish to thank my family, Mom, John, Dad, Peter, Nathaniel, and Kerry for all

their love, support, and wise cracks. I would especially like to thank my mother who

taught me that I could do anything. You are my hero. Going through hundreds of folders

in archives in Washington and Boston would have been miserable if it were not for the

tireless help of my research assistant and girlfriend, the future Dr. Cari Casteel. You do

everything, and yet, ask for nothing. You are my safe place. I love you.

My younger brother Michael passed away before the end of this dissertation. He

was one of my biggest fans. Most days it is hard to imagine life without him. Together

we shared a passion for movies. I think it fitting that I end with his favorite quote from

The Pursuit of Happiness: “Don’t ever let someone tell you you can’t do something. You

got a dream you gotta protect it. People can’t do something themselves, they want to tell you you can’t do it. If you want something, go get it. Period.”

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

DEDICATION ...... ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iii

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION ...... 1

II. RUGGED INDIVIDUALS AND ORGANIZATION MEN: THE COLD WAR MASCULINITY CRISIS ...... 18

Conclusion ...... 46

III. “ZERO, FIRE, IGNITION!”: CREATING A CULT OF MASCULINITY IN SPACEFLIGHT ...... 56

Conclusion ...... 81

IV. “LIGHT THIS CANDLE!:” COLD WAR MASCULINITY AND PROJECT MERCURY, 1958-1963 ...... 93

Conclusion ...... 125

V. FLIGHTY WOMEN: PENETRATING THE MASCULINE DIALOGUE OF SPACEFLIGHT, 1958-1964 ...... 137

Conclusion ...... 173

VI. “REFRESHINGLY HUMAN AND WINNING”: CONTROL AND PROJECT GEMINI, 1965-1966 ...... 181

Conclusion ...... 212

VII. “IT’S HIP TO BE SQUARE”: APOLLO, TEAMWORK, AND THE END OF THE RUGGED INDIVIDUAL ASTRONAUT, 1967-1972 ...... 223

Conclusion ...... 260 vi

VIII. CONCLUSION: TO INFINITY AND BEYOND ...... 274

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 290

Archives ...... 290 Primary Sources ...... 291 Government Documents ...... 293 Newspapers and Magazines ...... 294 Multimedia Sources ...... 297 Secondary Sources ...... 298 Dissertations ...... 307 Conferences ...... 308 Fiction ...... 308 Movies...... 308 Songs ...... 309

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CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

On 16 June 1963, a working-class textile employee and parachute enthusiast,

Valentina Tereshkova, boarded Vostok 6, and the Soviets launched the first woman into space. Walter McDougal argues in The Heavens and the Earth: A Political History of the

Space Age (1985) that Tereshkova held absolutely “no astronautical training.” Therefore, her ability to go into space “proved the superfluousness of the test pilots on the other flights.” McDougal maintains that the flight of the female cosmonaut was supposed to demonstrate the “routinenesss” of Soviet spaceflight. Upon her return, both Tereshkova and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev reprimanded American society for claiming that women were the “‘weaker sex.’” During her world tour, Tereshkova brazenly announced that her flight in space confirmed the equality of the sexes in the Soviet Union, but also

“‘the ever-growing superiority of the socialist order of society over capitalism altogether.’”1

The United States did not follow the Soviets by launching a woman into space.

Tereshkova’s launch had some Americans asking, “Why Valentina and Not Our Gal?”2

The United States, some believed, had women who were more qualified than Tereshkova

to go into space. In fact, in 1959, while working as a consultant for the National

Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), Dr. William Randolph “Randy”

Lovelace Jr., founder of the Lovelace Foundation for Medical Education and Research,

had conducted tests to see if women would make viable astronauts. Lovelace believed

1

that sending women into space would be cheaper due to their smaller size and weight. In

conjunction with the famed Women’s Army Service Pilot (WASP) of WWII, Jacqueline

Cochran, Lovelace compiled names of women deemed the best female flyers in the

United States. At the Lovelace clinic, nineteen women underwent the same tests that the male astronaut candidates endured. Thirteen of them passed. Next, Lovelace attempted to put the women through jet piloting tests at the Naval School of Aviation Medicine in

Pensacola. The military blocked his request because of their ban on women flying military jets. In that same year, 1962, the House of Representatives convened the

Subcommittee on the Selection of Astronauts of the Committee on Science and

Astronautics to hold a hearing on sexual discrimination within NASA. The subcommittee found that even though women could not fly jets for the military, the NASA astronaut requirements of military jet test piloting experience did not mean that NASA discriminated against women.3

Margaret A. Weitekamp was the first historian to piece together the Lovelace

program in her work Right Stuff, Wrong Sex: America’s First Women in Space Program

(2005). She argues concerning gender roles within NASA during the early Cold War:

The engineers and pilots who founded NASA in the late 1950s brought with them their military culture and its embedded assumptions about women’s and men’s proper roles. As such, the military ethos of the young civilian agency did not welcome women in the dangerous role of astronauts.4 Weitekamp’s work suggests that Lovelace’s assertion that women were better equipped

than men for space travel challenged the American belief that women were the weaker sex. Lovelace’s program attracted American’s attention in the early 1960s because it was on the eve of a “breakthrough in thinking about women’s public roles.”5 Weitekamp’s

2

work has inspired scholars and journalists to delve deeper into gender roles within

NASA. This dissertation adds another layer to Weitekamp’s analysis by looking at how

the public discourse of the Cold War masculinity crisis influenced the construction of the

astronaut image. The connection between the masculinity crisis and the astronaut image

adds to the understanding of why the United States did not send a woman into space to

counter the flight of Tereshkova.

Historians have seized on spaceflight’s connection to broader themes in American

culture. Increasingly they have shifted their focus from the well documented

programmatic, technological, and political history of spaceflight to the roles that popular

culture, the media, propaganda, and average Americans played in both shaping and

reflecting the image of the astronaut.6 Previously, scholarship such as James L.

Kauffman’s Selling Outer Space: Kennedy, the Media, and Funding for Project Apollo,

1961-1963 (1994), and Susan Landrum-Mangus’s dissertation, “Conestoga Wagons to

the Moon: The Frontier, The American Space Program, and National Identity” (1999),

have focused primarily on how the political discourse of spaceflight drew upon a popular, albeit mythical, past of rugged pioneers conquering the frontier of the American West. To

sell spaceflight, politicians fashioned the astronauts as the pioneers of the New Frontier.7

Newer scholarship such as Howard E. McCurdy’s Space and the American

Imagination (1997), Roger Launius’s “Heroes in a Vacuum: The Apollo Astronaut as

Cultural Icon” (2008), and NASA’s Societal Impact of Spaceflight (2009), have

contextualized NASA within the Cold War.8 These scholars also looked to how

politicians and the American media have shaped spaceflight. McCurdy argues that

American fascination with Cold War science fiction added to the allure and fantasy of

space. While focusing on the construction of the astronaut image, Launius proposes that

3

the media and NASA portrayed space flyers as both ordinary and extraordinary. Launius explains that the men were to symbolize the “epitome” of masculinity. For instance,

Space Task Group member, Charles Donlan, said that while choosing the first American astronauts, the Mercury 7, he looked for “real men.”9 Launius argues that for the astronauts to symbolize American masculinity, NASA took great pains to control the public image of the astronauts. NASA’s Officer for Public Affairs from 1958-1960,

Walter T. Bonney, suppressed any news of the astronauts’ wild parties or affairs with women. Launius maintains that Bonney turned the “hard-living, hard-drinking lot” into

“God-fearing” family men who represented the American “everyman.”10

Launius analyzes how NASA controlled the public image of the astronaut. This dissertation looks at how the public discourse of print media, politicians, astronauts, and at times NASA, shaped the image of the early American astronaut as representing the

Cold War masculinity crisis. The dissertation defines public discourse using Joan

Wallach Scott’s argument on the importance of language. The public discourse surrounding the astronaut flights were not simply “words people say to one another.”

These words invoked meaning. The public discourse “conveyed the idea of meaning as the patterns and relationships that constitute understanding or a ‘cultural system.’”11

Those within the public discourse emphasized that the astronauts exercised rugged individuality and control over their capsules. Cold War journalists, politicians, academics, and average Americans championed a return to rugged individualism and control as a way for American men to conquer the masculinity crisis.

Historian and engineer David A. Mindell focuses on the issue of astronaut control over spaceflight technology in Digital Apollo: Human and Machine in Space Flight

(2008). Mindell contends that the relationship between the astronaut and the space

4

capsule forced NASA and the nation to come to terms with the relationship of people to machines in an age of technology. Much like Kauffman before him, Mindell argues that to sell Apollo to the American public, the press, and Congress, President John F.

Kennedy “drew upon American imagery of exploration, individualism, and geographical conquest.” Mindell deviates from other academics of the astronaut image by arguing that for the astronaut to have been representative of American technological strength, “the astronauts had to be in control. Frontiersmen could not be passengers.” Finally, he suggests, “Astronauts’ accounts continually reaffirm that what it means to be a man is related to control and interpret threats to pilots’ control as threats to their manhood.”12

The astronauts wanted to master the capsule and prove that they could fly.

According to Mindell, the introduction of more software and technology within the

Apollo capsule reinforced astronaut control over the capsule. He contends that in regard

to the new Apollo Guidance Computer (AGC), “As Apollo’s machines were designed,

built, and operated they called the very nature of ‘heroism’ into question. What did it

mean to be in control?... Can it be ‘manly’ to control a machine by simply pushing

buttons?”13 The dissertation argues the opposite. As NASA introduced more software and technology into the Apollo flights, the astronaut moved farther and farther away from controlling his technology. As average American men attempted to control their own lives, astronauts struggled to control the capsule.

Americans constructed a discourse that emphasized (if not at times fabricated) the astronaut’s control over the capsule. However, the Soviets strove for the opposite. Soviet space historian Asif A. Siddiqi argues that the Chief Designer for the Soviet space program, Sergei Korolev, stressed the importance of automated capsule control over pilot control. Korolev suggested:

5

As has been repeatedly demonstrated in our automated flights…, our technology is such that we do not require, as the American Mercury project does, that our early cosmonauts be highly skilled engineers. The American astronaut must help control the rocket systems at every stage of the flight.14 Siddiqi maintains that Korolev’s statement “was an indication of the depth to which

automation was an intrinsic factor in the early Soviet piloted space program.”15 Unlike

the Soviets, the Americans resisted the image of automation or a cog mentality. The

image of the astronaut controlling the technology was important to fighting the Cold War

masculinity crisis.

The alarm over automation was not the only cause for concern regarding

masculinity. Scholars of the Cold War masculinity crisis point to other reasons for a post-

World War II “male panic”: communism, conformity, feminism, homosexuality,

bureaucracy, corporations, male consumerism, too much leisure, and the dreaded William

H. Whyte Jr. “organization man.”16 Peter Filene’s Him/Her Self: Gender Identities in

Modern America (1974) underscores the 1950s feminization of the work place as a main

reason for the crisis. By the term “feminization” Filene means that during the Cold War

white middle class employment stressed “cooperation, collective effort, and social skills.”

In Homosexuality in Cold War America: Resistance and the Crisis of Masculinity (1997),

Robert J. Corber calls cooperation and conformity feminine characteristics that

represented the organization man.17 Anthropologist David Gilmore’s Manhood in the

Making: Cultural Concepts of Masculinity (1991) also identifies the white middle class

work place as central to the construction of Cold War gender. He argues that the shift in

production from white males as producer to consumer caused a shift in the images of

American masculinity. Gilmore suggests men were no longer taking on traditional masculine roles as producer. Instead, they were performing the traditional feminine role

6

of consumer.18 E. Anthony Rotundo took Gilmore’s masculine shift from producer to

consumer a step farther in American Manhood: Transformations in American Masculinity

from the Revolutions to the Modern Era (1994). He argues that the transition of white

middle class males into white-collar jobs based largely on consumerism caused a major

transition in the American image of masculinity. Rotundo labels this shift the transition

from the “self-made manhood” to “passionate manhood.”19

Michael Kimmel, the founder of “men’s studies,” follows suit in Manhood in

America: A Cultural History (1996) in which he combines the ideas of Rotundo and

Filene. Kimmel argues that in the nineteenth century, Americans constructed masculinity

as the image of a self-made man, a true rugged individual. Much like Rotundo, Kimmel

stresses a transition from the self-made man into the organization man.20 Men found it difficult to continue to self-identify in a team atmosphere. In order for men to retain their individual identity, Kimmel proposes that a new masculine image emerged that fluctuated between the self-made and organization man. Kimmel calls this masculinity “democratic manhood.” As if to compromise between the two extremes, Kimmel creates an image of a resonating string, bouncing back and forth between the two identities.21

Kimmel maintains that masculinity is socially constructed and not monolithic. He

believes in the importance of understanding multiple masculinities, but controversially

argues that “All American men must also contend with a singular vision of masculinity, a

particular definition that is held up against which we all measure ourselves.” In Kimmel’s

dominant vision of masculinity, he writes that “manhood is less about the drive for

domination and more about the fear of others dominating us, having power or control

over us.” Kimmel argues that masculinity plays a central importance in men’s daily lives.

He suggests that a driving force for men is their “quest for manhood—the effort to

7

achieve, to demonstrate, to prove our masculinity….”22 During the early Space Race, the

discourse of space journalists, politicians, astronauts, and at times NASA administrators

created the symbol of American masculinity through the image of the astronaut as in control over his capsule, or in other words, through his ability to fly into space.

James Gilbert agrees with Kimmel’s emphasis on the central importance of

masculinity in male behavior. He addresses different images of masculinity during the

Cold War in Men in the Middle: Searching for Masculinity in the 1950s (2005). The dissertation will use Gilbert’s definition of the Cold War masculinity crisis as a particular

time period in which norms of masculinity were challenged by both social and

psychological shifts within a culture. Gilbert proposes that during the Cold War

masculinity crisis “the effects of conformity, suburban life, and mass culture were

depicted [in popular culture] as feminizing and debasing, and the proposed solution often

lay in a renewal of traditional masculine vigor and individualism.” Gilbert argues, like

Judith Butler, Joan Wallach Scott, and Kimmel before him, that masculinity is constantly

changing, thus masculinity is difficult to isolate as only one archetype in the 1950s.23

Gilbert analyzes the masculine images of David Riesman, Alfred Kinsey, Ozzie Nelson,

Billy Graham, Tennessee Williams, and Playboy literary editor, Auguste Comte

Spectorsky.24 Different time periods in American history experienced an “obsession”

with masculinity. However, since the dissertation focuses on the early astronaut image,

the dissertation will concentrate on the Cold War masculinity crisis.25

The dissertation adds to the historiography by analyzing how the Cold War

masculinity crisis affected the public image of flight, specifically, spaceflight. The public

discourse depicted the epitome of American masculinity as the taking back of rugged

individualism and control, both physical and mental. Throughout the dissertation

8

masculinity that is centered on rugged individualism and physical and mental control will

be referred to as Cold War masculinity. Space journalists, politicians, and astronauts

constructed the astronaut as symbolizing this image of Cold War masculinity. Regardless

of the reality of whether or not the astronaut actually “flew” in space, journalists,

politicians, and astronauts were very adamant about the astronaut’s ability to control the

capsule. The dissertation argues that in completing a gendered analysis, the assumption

that the astronaut could “fly” the capsule insinuated an American masculinity of

individualism apart from Soviet conformity. Through his ability to fly, the American

astronaut represented Cold War masculinity.

This image of a superior American masculinity was challenged throughout the

early race. In 1965, NASA introduced computers and hyphenated scientist-astronauts into

spaceflight. The public image of the astronaut started to change. Moving into Apollo, the

public image of a rugged individual astronaut left alone to control his capsule was

replaced by automation and teams in space. The astronaut image was slowly becoming

the organization man. The following dissertation is important because it demonstrates

that not only was the crisis of masculinity important within the public discourse of the

astronaut image, but also that the rugged individual astronaut did not resolve the

masculinity crisis. Instead, he represented the crisis as he struggled for individualism and

control into the age of the passenger space shuttle 26

The dissertation is a chronological narrative of manned spaceflight from 1958 through 1972. The second chapter begins with an analysis of the Cold War masculinity crisis. This chapter argues that at the center of the crisis rested the fear of the loss of rugged individualism and control. The intersection of the Cold War masculinity crisis and flight is also introduced in this chapter. Through the use of airline advertisements, the

9

Cold War masculinity crisis is highlighted within the transition of flight from death defying feats of lone wolf pioneering pilots to the commercialization, routinization, and domestication of flight.

The third chapter demonstrates how the early dialogue of spaceflight, 1957-1964, highlighted the Cold War masculinity crisis. It is in this early dialogue that Americans constructed space as a masculine sphere. In looking at the public record—such as statements from Richard M. Nixon, John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, news articles and features in the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, Life, Newsweek, Time, and the Washington Post—as well as rhetoric employed by major players within NASA,

Americans strove to combat the “crisis” of an apparent willingness to shun individuality in American culture for the ways of collectivism. Through the militarization of space,

Americans deliberately focused on individuality and control of space. In doing so, the narrative of space created a masculine pioneer. Americans turned to the jet test pilot as their representative of rugged individuality and control in space.

The fourth chapter argues that during Project Mercury American space journalists, politicians, and astronauts constructed the astronaut image as representing

Cold War masculinity through their ability to “fly” their capsules. For example, when the

Chicago Tribune reported on Alan Shepard’s flight, the paper contended that he became not only America’s first spaceman but he did so “in the world’s first pilot controled [sic] space ship.”27 Likewise, when Congressmen Phil Weaver (R-NE) commented on

Commander Shepard’s flight, he took great pains to show the critical issue of control.

“Shepard was able to control his capsule from an interior instrument panel,” argued

Weaver, “whereas the Soviet ‘cosmonaut’ [sic] flight was completely controlled from the ground.”28 The New York Times speculated that “Judging by [these] accounts, Gagarin

10

rode almost as a passenger.”29 In creating a rugged individualistic space flyer, Americans

projected an image of not only Cold War masculinity, but also “firsts” in space that

marked them as superior to the Soviets.

The fifth chapter demonstrates how the Lovelace women attempted to enter the

male sphere of spaceflight. Female pilots argued that women should not be passive actors

in spaceflight, but rather, that they should be active participants in the conquest of space.

Due to the dangers of spaceflight, NASA spokespeople deemed the exclusion of women as astronauts necessary. Women were too weak or fragile to take on the characteristics of

Cold War masculinity. Analysis of the public discourse on women space farers provides further evidence that Americans saw spaceflight as a masculine sphere where women could only exist as helpmates and not as active participants.30

Chapter six argues that as NASA transitioned into Project Gemini, space

journalists, politicians, and astronauts continued to emphasize the importance of manual

control of a space capsule. After the March 1965 launch of Gemini III, Life proclaimed,

“For the first time, rather than being nearly helpless riders aboard an intractable

projectile, the Astronauts really [totally] controlled their craft.”31 Journalists, politicians,

astronauts, and at times NASA reinterpreted their past in a way to reinforce the idea of the astronauts’ ability to fly into space. Even as the Soviet Union performed an extra- vehicular activity (EVA or spacewalk) first, journalists and politicians touted the

American astronaut’s walk in the cosmos as being different from that of the Soviets.

Americans argued that they were “first” with astronaut control of an EVA. Americans continued to praise pilot control of spaceflight.32 However, the rugged individual

astronaut image confronted obstacles. The computer on board the Gemini capsule

confused who held control over spaceflight, man or technology.

11

NASA’s introduction of the hyphenated scientist-astronauts also challenged the

rugged individual image of the pilot astronaut. Matthew H. Hersch maintains in “Return

of the Lost Spaceman: America’s Astronauts in Popular Culture, 1959-2006” (2011) that

the various media and astronaut accounts surrounding the new hyphenated scientist-

astronauts demonstrated that not everyone took a liking to the new image.33 In his

dissertation, “Spacework: Labor and Culture in America’s Astronaut Corps, 1959-1979”

(2010) Hersch argues that during the first decade of the Space Race, the public image of

the astronaut remained “largely unchallenged.” The introduction of the hyphenated

astronauts challenged the “authority” of the pilot astronauts. The new scientist-astronauts not only changed the workplace of the astronaut, but so too did the national space policy.

In turn, the new NASA management forced the astronauts to change not only the work they did, but the amount of control they exercised within the organization.34 Adding to

Hersch’s analysis, I highlight the importance of gender in the public construction of the astronaut image. The computer and a newer squarer image of the space pilot refashioned

the image of the astronaut from one of a rugged individual jet test pilot controlling space,

to one of a scientist performing experiments in space.

Almost always characterized as the men behind the men in space, Mission

Controllers fought to join the public discourse of the spaceflight image. The controllers

were team players, and corporation men. They were at odds with the public image of the

rugged individualist astronaut. The seventh chapter suggests that during Project Apollo, the Cold War masculinity of spaceflight shifted from rugged individualism to teamwork.

The image of the astronaut as a symbol of an idealized masculinity during the Cold War

masculinity crisis was floundering. Three manned missions symbolized the permanent

shift in the public discourse. The Apollo 1 fire and subsequent deaths of three astronauts

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revealed a complete lack of control by astronauts, scientists, engineers, and technicians.

Apollo 13 highlighted the loss of individual astronaut control and stressed astronaut

reliance on technology, teamwork, and Mission Control. Finally, Apollo 17’s launch of

the first scientist-astronaut demonstrated the ability of non-jet test pilots to penetrate the

highly exclusive cult of the astronauts, forever changing the image of the rugged

individual pioneer. The commissioning of the space shuttles as passenger vehicles further

suggested that spaceflight was safe. In the role of passengers in space, the astronauts

continued to face the Cold War masculinity crisis.

The astronaut, once constructed as the epitome of American masculinity, labored

for control of space. As it became easier for non-jet test pilots to fly into space, the symbol of the astronaut as possessing a superior masculinity struggled. The print media

and politicians no longer stressed the astronauts’ rugged individualism or control.

Instead, they stressed astronauts as not only pilots, but also engineers, scientists, all who worked in teams with the men at Mission Control. The image of the astronaut that once symbolized the taking back of American masculinity during the Cold War masculinity crisis had failed. Space journalists, politicians, and NASA suggested that space was now safe. There was no longer a need for an emphasis on rugged individualism and control. In the end the astronaut image became that of the organization man and the Cold War masculinity crisis continued within NASA.

13

1. Walter McDougall, …The Heavens and The Earth: A Political History of Space Flight (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 288. For Tereshkova’s aeronautic training course see James T. Andrews and Asif A. Siddiqi, Into the Cosmos: Space Exploration and Soviet Culture (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2011); Asif A. Siddiqi, Sputnik and the Soviet Space Challenge (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2004); and Challenge to Apollo: The Soviet Union and the Space Race, 1945-1974 (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4408, 2000).

2. Louis Sweeney, “Why Valentina and Not Our Gal?” Berkshire Eagle (Pittsfield, Massachusetts), June 21, 1962.

3. Margaret A. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex: America’s First Women in Space Program (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005). While the secondary sources give the numbers of 19 women taking the tests, and 13 passing, hence the 1980s name, “The Mercury 13” within Cobb’s own testimony at the July 1962 Subcommittee hearings she suggests that “twenty five women went through those tests, and from them 12 passed to form the group of which we speak..” But she might not be including herself in this number; See, Congress, House, Committee on Science and Astronautics, Qualifications for Astronauts: Hearings before the Special Subcommittee on the Selection of Astronauts of the Committee on Science and Astronautics, 87th Cong., 2d sess., July 17-18, 1962, 3. Hereafter cited as Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings.

4. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 121.

5. Ibid., 184-186.

6. As can be seen through the papers presented at NASA’s Symposium on the 50th Anniversary of Human Spaceflight, space historians are turning more toward the cultural impact of spaceflight. For information on NASA’s Symposium see, NASA History Division, “Key Moments in Human Spaceflight, April 26-27, 2011,” NASA, http://history.nasa.gov/1961-1981conf/index.html (accessed May 8, 2011). Works presented at the Symposium that dealt with the interaction of Cold War culture and the image of the astronaut were James Spiller’s “The Rise (1961) and Fall and Rise Again (1981) of America’s ‘Space Frontier,’” Margaret A. Weitekamp, “Setting the Scene for Human Spaceflights: Men Into Space and The Man and the Challenge,” Andrew Jenks, “The 50th Jubilee: Yuri Gagarin in the Soviet and Post-Soviet Imagination,” Guillaume de Syon, “Astronauts and Cosmonauts in Frenchmen: Understanding Space Travel Through The Popular Weekly Paris-Match,” Trevor Rockwell, “They May Remake Our Image of Mankind: Representations of Cosmonauts and Astronauts in Soviet and American Space Propaganda, 1961-1981.” NASA is slated to publish a book on the papers presented at the symposium.

14

7. Works that look at the frontier image of the astronaut are James L. Kauffman, Selling Outer Space: Kennedy, the Media, and Funding for Project Apollo, 1961-1963 (Tuscaloosa, A.L.: The University of Alabama Press,1994); Susan Landrum-Mangus, “Conestoga Wagons to the Moon: The Frontier, The American Space Program, and National Identity” (PhD diss., Columbus, O.H: The Ohio State University, 1999);

8. Howard E. McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination, 2nd ed. (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997); Roger D. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum: The Apollo Astronaut as Cultural Icon” The Florida Historical Quarterly: Special Issue Celebrating 50th Anniversary NASA in Florida (1958-2008) 87, no. 2 (Fall 2008): 174- 209; and Steven Dick and Roger D. Launius, Societal Impact of Spaceflight (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4801, 2009).

9. Loyd, S. Swenson, Jr., James M. Grimwood, and Charles C. Alexander, This New Ocean: A History of Project Mercury (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4201, 1966), 163. See also, Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 180. To note, the Space Task Group was created in November 1958. It contained 45 engineers, calculaters, and secretaries from Langley Research Center. Robert Gilruth head the group. The group’s main function was to oversee manned spaceflight. As manned spaceflight grew, the group turned into the Manned Spaceflight Center in Houston. For further detailes see, This New Ocean, 133- 135.

10. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 175. Most NASA histories depict the astronauts as heroes, flawed at times, but still the narrative that this was important to Americans is dominant within the historiography. See Susan Faludi, Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man (New York: Harper Collins, 1999); Matthew H. Hersch, “Return of the Lost Spaceman: America’s Astronauts in Popular Culture” The Journal of Popular Culture, 4, no. 1 (February 2011): 78-79; Kauffman, Selling Outer Space; Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum;” McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination, 92.

11. Joan Wallach Scott, Gender and the Politics of History (revised edition, New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), 59.

12. David A. Mindell, Digital Apollo: Human and Machine in Spaceflight (Cambridge, M.A.: The MIT Press, 2008), 12, 14.

13. Ibid., 13, 10.

14. Siddiqi, Challenge to Apollo, 244.

15. Ibid.

16. James Gilbert, Men in the Middle: Searching for Masculinity in the 1950s (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005), 30. See also Robert J. Corber, Homosexuality in Cold War America: Resistance and the Crisis of Masculinity (Durham, N.C.: Duke 15

University Press, 1997); David D. Gilmore, Manhood in the Making: Cultural Concepts of Masculinity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990); Kimmel, Manhood in America; E. Anthony Rotundo, American Manhood: Transformations in Masculinity from the Revolution to the Modern Era (New York: Basic Books, 1993); David Savran, Communists, Cowboys, and Queers: The Politics of Masculinity in the World of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992). For more on the “organization man” see William H. Whyte Jr., The Organization Man (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1956).

17. Peter G. Filene, Him/Her Self: Gender Identities in Modern America (New York: The Penguin Group, 1976). See also, Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 19; Corber, Homosexuality in Cold War America, 4.

18. Gilmore, Manhood in the Making, 223-224. See also Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 17 and Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumer’s Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage Books, 2003).

19. Rotundo, American Manhood, and Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 17-18.

20. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 334. See also Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 19-20; Corber, Homosexuality in Cold War America, 4; Whyte, The Organization Man.

21. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 333-335

22. Ibid. 5, 6, 4. For the construction of gender roles, also see Joan Wallach Scott, Gender and the Politics of History and Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1990).

23. See Joan Wallach Scott, Gender and the Politics of History and Judith Butler, Gender Trouble, and Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 4.

24. Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 4.

25. The term “obsession” with masculinity comes from Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1995), 50, 7. See also Kristen Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998).

26. The idea for this was taken from Bederman’s Manliness and Civilization, 20. Bederman writes, “on the ways middle class men and women worked to re-define manhood in terms of racial dominance, especially in terms of “civilization.” The dissertation uses the Oxford Dictionary’s definition of masculinity simply as the “possession of the qualities traditionally associated with men.” See Oxford Dictionary,

16

“Masculinity,” Oxford Dictionaries Online, http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/masculinity (accessed May 10, 2011).

27. Phillip Dodd, “To Space—And Back!” Chicago Tribune, May 6, 1961, 1.

28. Congressman Phil Weaver, May 14, 1961, “White House Central Files-Subject Files,” Box 652, Folder, 84 “Outer space, January 18, 1961-January 25, 1962,” John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston, M.A.

29. “America Puts on a Brave Face: President’s Congratulations on ‘Outstanding’ Feat,” Times (London), April 13, 1961, 12.

30. For a great analysis on the social structure of the Cold War family see Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988).

31. “Lift-Off to a New Era in Space,” Life, August 2, 1965, 35.

32. “Space: Closing the Gap,” Time, June 11, 1965, 25 and “The Great Adventure Moves Ahead,” Newsweek, June 14, 1965, 30.

33. Matthew H. Hersch, “Return of the Lost Spaceman: America’s Astronauts in Popular Culture, 1959-2006,” The Journal of Popular Culture 44, no. 1 (February 2011): 80-84.

34. Ibid.

17

CHAPTER II

RUGGED INDIVIDUALS AND ORGANIZATION MEN: THE COLD WAR

MASCULINITY CRISIS

On his 1959 CBS program, journalist Mike Wallace interviewed Ayn Rand regarding both her personal philosophy of “objectivism” and that which she presented in her book Atlas Shrugged (1957). Rand called her philosophy not “Randism” as suggested by Wallace, but rather the “cult of morality.” She explained that this cult was not based on Christianity or any other religion, but rather on realism and logic that for man came from “the independent judgment of his own mind.” Of man’s function on earth, Rand philosophized, “His highest moral purpose is the achievement of his own individual happiness.” She balked at the modern American need for majority rule, suggesting that every person had a right to their “individual happiness.” Wallace seemed perturbed by what he referred to as her “selfish” philosophy.1

The two discussed whether or not it was the responsibility of man to be “his

brother’s keeper.” To this, Rand ridiculed the idea of a welfare state, suggesting that

Americans were finding themselves closer to socialism and social collectivism. She argued that within the new American welfare state “everybody is enslaved to everybody.”

Rand detested government power, taxes, unemployment compensation, regulation, and even rent control. She said that with government regulation, the American people had never been given “a choice.” Wallace asked of her opinion toward America’s past before government regulation. Specifically, he wanted her opinion on Robber Barons of the 19th

18

century. Rand insisted that the term Robber Baron was inaccurate. Rather, these business pioneers were “independent men.”2

While Rand’s thinking was quite extreme for the time, the words and images of

individualism and choice reflected other authors of post-World War II America. In fact,

sociologists David Riesman and William Whyte Jr., authors Sloane Wilson and Betty

Friedan, and even politicians John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon echoed Rand in

their celebration of American individualism. In order to understand the development of

Cold War masculinity within both flight and manned spaceflight, it is important to trace the public discourse of the post World War II masculinity crisis. From the 1940s and lasting through the early Space Race, writers, academics, doctors, politicians, and various leading popular culture magazines emphasized a crisis of masculinity. They argued that

communism, conformity, feminism, homosexuality, bureaucracy, corporations, male

consumerism, too much leisure, automation, and the organization man threatened

American masculinity. This dialogue permeated not only American culture but also the

commercialization of flight.

Scholars such as Michael Kimmel and James Gilbert have suggested that the

American experience in the military during World War II helps explain the need for a

reinvigorated Cold War masculinity in the 1950s. Around 16 million American men and

women served in the war. These men, and at times women, returned home to ticker tape

parades, a burgeoning economy, and their own personal advancements through the 1944

G.I. Bill or Serviceman’s Readjustment Act. As men, they had served their country,

fought in battle, risked life and limb for others, and survived. In turn, some of these

former soldiers became part of a growing white middle class America. White men proved themselves as providers and protectors on the field of battle and upon returning home

19

established themselves as providers in the corporate office. Michael Kimmel writes that

“Men had been able to prove on the battlefield what they had found difficult to prove at the workplace and in their homes—that they were dedicated providers and protectors.”3

Newspapers and magazines filled their pages with individual and collective tales of

courage and vigor. Through military services American men exercised masculinity. If

these men displayed such heroics on the battlefield and were victorious, why would a

crisis of masculinity exist in a time of such blatant masculine prowess? While the war

reinvigorated American masculinity, the war also challenged white male control.

In American culture, white maleness had long been the standard by which

masculinity was measured.4 Lorry M. Fenner and Marie De Young argue in Women in

Combat: Civic Duty or Military Liability? (2001) that white males performed masculinity

through military combat and economic, political, and social privilege. In essence, in

American society, white males retained the rights of citizenship, not minorities or women. With these privileges, white men controlled the public sphere of society.5 In

World War II, minorities and women challenged white male hegemony by performing

citizenship in the military and by entering the public sphere of outside employment. Over

one million African-Americans joined the military during the war. They made up roughly

8 percent of the total military personnel. Similarly to World War I, the American military

segregated units and jobs. Seventy-eight percent of African-Americans held service based jobs, such as cooks, waiters, and porters. Due to a shortage of white combat troops, the military allowed African-American males to fight in the air and on the ground. This challenged white protectorship.6 Through their military service African-Americans demonstrated masculinity.

20

Women also challenged the role of male protectorship and white masculinity.

World War II became the first war in which American women officially joined as

soldiers. While serving in segregated branches, women comprised roughly two percent of

the total American military personnel.7 As middle class women eagerly entered the

public sphere, they made their own decisions, traveled alone for the first time, and held

outside employment. Like men, women found themselves under fire in combat zones.

White male inability to protect female soldiers from strafing challenged white masculine

protectorship and thus, white masculinity.8

Hispanic Americans, Asian Americans, and Native Americans further defied white male control. Even with institutionalized racism in the military and at home, minorities eagerly enlisted.9 Despite advances made by minority groups, discrimination

continued. For the most part, the public image of the American soldier remained that of a

white male. While white males could maintain their manhood on the battlefield in World

War II, the proxy wars of the Cold War, Korea, and Vietnam, proved more difficult. One

of the first challenges to the white male soldier/protector image came in the form of

President Truman’s Executive Order 9981.10 This order desegregated the military,

allowing—hypothetically anyway—non-white males to fight on equal footing with white

males.

Military participation was not the only threat to white masculinity. The study of

character type and sociology emphasized a possible masculinity crisis. James Gilbert

argues that the “relentless and self-conscious preoccupation with masculinity” in the

1950s was largely due to the fascination of sociologists and historians with “social

character” and the beginnings of “masculinity as a subject for contemporary study….”

Gilbert suggests that historians began to look at their field as a “process of evolving

21

psychological states and character types.”11 Social character became important in its

relation to current events.

As Americans concerned themselves with social character, gender norms were at

the forefront of the discussion. In 1949, the U.S. Army Medical Department released a

report that suggested during combat “most men have anxiety.” The conclusion appeared

obvious, but their findings shocked Americans. Army psychiatrists estimated that around

75 percent of American infantrymen during World War II were unable to pull the

trigger.12 Similarly, a 1952 article in Colliers entitled “Why Half Our Combat Soldiers

Fail to Shoot” exposed the perceived weak underbelly of American fighting men in both

World War II and Korea.13 Kimmel suggests that “a large number became incontinent in

battle, and many men would ‘feign emotional disorder’ in order to get out of the line of

fire.”14

Cold War sociologists and contemporary historians looked at individual

cowardice as evidence of a lack of masculinity. Novels such as Norman Mailer’s The

Naked and the Dead (1948) and Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 (1961) adequately portrayed,

and at times normalized, such anxiety and lack of control on the battlefield and in the

air.15 Michael C.C. Adams maintains that the American military faced high rates of

mental instability among soldiers, thus pointing to an increasing loss of control during the

war. Adams proposes: “About 25-30 percent of World War II casualties were

psychological cases; under very severe conditions that number could reach as high as 70-

80 percent.”16

Scholars insinuated a masculinity crisis even before the end of the war.

Academics pointed to overbearing motherhood as an explanation to white male anxiety.

In his Generation of Vipers (1942), popular writer Philip Wylie described this fear as a

22

pre-war disease known as “momism.” Wylie chastised mothers for the overprotection of

their sons, claiming that such coddling directly led to unmasculine behavior. Wylie

pointed to two necessities for the restoration of American masculinity: the destruction of

the overprotective mother and the return of the nuclear family.17

Dr. Benjamin Spock disagreed with Wylie. In Baby and Childcare (1946) he

encouraged mothers by suggesting: “You know more than you think you do.” Spock even

persuaded fathers to have more confidence in their ability to take on motherly roles, such

as changing diapers and feeding the baby. He hoped to convince dads that they could be

“warm fathers” while still being “real men.” Spock influenced mothers to “enjoy their

babies,” and “respond to the baby’s needs.” Mothers were to be “lovingly” not “sternly.”

To Spock, not being afraid to love one’s baby taught babies “confidence.”18 By trusting some of their own instincts, Spock empowered women. Drawing inspiration from Wylie,

David Levy published Maternal Overprotection (1943). Dr. Edward Strecker followed

with Their Mother’s Sons (1946). 19 They disagreed with Spock. They believed mother’s

acted too emotional toward their children.

On 27 April 1945, Strecker delivered a speech known as “the Mom lecture”

before physicians at Bellevue Hospital. He told the audience that the military referred to those who experienced mental breakdowns as “‘mommies’ boys.’” He warned of the loss of “self-preservation” brought on by momism.20 To Strecker, the loss of self-preservation

created a loss of male control. Anthropologist Margaret Mead disagreed with Wylie and

his followers. She asked in And Keep Your Powder Dry (1942) “Have we made it a

condition of success that a man should reach a higher position than his father’s when

such an achievement (for the many) is dependent upon the existence of a frontier and an expanding economy?” Mothers were not to blame for the male panic. Mead suggested

23

that American men suffered from “contradictory cultural messages” that wanted men “to be tough and to stand up for themselves, and, at the same time, teach them that aggression is wrong….”21

Pulitzer Prize winning Harvard history professor, and Democratic Party supporter,

Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., preferred to view male “anxiety” not in terms of the mother

but rather through Cold War ideology that separated men into “hard” and soft” personalities. He professed that the “Western Man [sic] in the twentieth century is tense, uncertain, adrift. We look upon our epoch as a time of troubles, an age of anxiety.”

Capitalism, science, and technology have led the charge in detaching people from morals

and individual self-fulfillment. Industrialization was responsible for the downfall of the

individual. Schlesinger argued that as capitalism and corporations grew, “Man longs to

escape the pressures beating down on his frail individuality;…the surest means of escape seems to be to surrender that individuality to some massive, external authority.”22

Schlesinger blamed human suffering on corrupt corporations and impersonality.

This detachment forced people into communism. In fact, suggested Schlesinger,

communist states were not communist at all, but rather totalitarian dictatorships. He

supported Jacksonian democracy and New Deal politics. He abhorred those who believed

that progress could be created through “science, bourgeois complacency, Unitarianism,

and the faith in the goodness of man.” Striving for a “heaven on earth,” these people

focused on “sentimentality” in “politics and culture.” He called this group of politicians

“progressives.” Schlesinger advocated liberal democracy with a strong central

government. To make his point, Schlesinger employed gendered symbols. He viewed

progressives as “soft,” “sentimental,”—a “Doughface” movement. On the “progressive of

24

today,” Schlesinger warned, “His sentimentality has softened up the progressive for

Communist permeation and conquest.”23

Modern scholars such as K. A. Cuordileone have completed a gender analysis on

Schlesinger’s argument. Cuordileone argues in “‘Politics in an Age of Anxiety’: Cold

War Political Culture and the Crisis of American Masculinity, 1949-1960,” (2000) that the Vital Center “reflects a political culture that put a new premium on hard masculine toughness and rendered anything less than that soft and feminine and, as such, a real or potential threat to the security of the nation.” To Cuordileone, Schlesinger did not simply employ words. Instead, “The power of the hard/soft opposition in political discourse lay here, in the gendered symbolic baggage that gave such imagery meaning and resonance.”24 His words reflected a greater public discourse of the growing panic of

changing gender roles in the post World War II era.

Schlesinger attempted to depict masculinity as hard and weak as soft or doughfaced. However, a post-World War II scientist disputed the idea of traditional gendered symbols and images. An entomologist at Indiana University, Alfred Kinsey, shocked the nation with his own analysis of social character. Kinsey tested the limits of male sexuality in his Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (1948). Kinsey claimed that of males surveyed between the ages of 16 to 20, 27.3% had engaged in “homosexual activity to the point of orgasm.” Kinsey professed that the number rose to 38.7% in male respondents between the ages 36 to 40. He alleged to have interviewed 12,000 subjects,

6,300 of who were male, 5,300 of those were white. Kinsey warned readers that the study had underrepresented blue collar workers. He maintained that at the present time, he could not make any conclusions regarding the sexual behavior of the male “negro.”25

Therefore, Kinsey’s study pertained to the sexual behavior of middle class white males.

25

John D’Emilio and Estelle B. Freedman note in Intimate Matters: A History of

Sexuality in America (1988) that despite the tedious scientific language of the book, in its first twenty-seven weeks on the New York Times best-seller list, retailers sold 250,000 copies.26 Americans had Kinsey fever. The Times summarized Kinsey’s findings as

“showing how unrealistic and even barbarous is the legalistic conception of sex relations

which has prevailed for centuries….” According to the paper, Kinsey claimed that 85%

of males have had premarital sex, 70% have had sexual relations with prostitutes, 30-40% were unfaithful in their marriages, with 37% having some sort of homosexual experience between adolescence and late adulthood. The statistics challenged American conventions on both traditional sexual relations and gender norms. Kinsey forewarned that this did not mean the country was “loose” or that “the world is going to the dogs.”27 Kinsey’s work added to the growing public discourse on proper gender roles during the Cold War. His work questioned the normalization of heterosexual relationships. Could a man still be masculine if he engaged in sexual activity with another man?

Mixed reviews plagued Kinsey’s findings. Sociology professors at the University of Pennsylvania, A. H. Hobbs and R. D. Lambert, accused Kinsey and his researchers of using flawed statistical analysis. They charged Kinsey and his team of interviewing married men of 30 years old about both their sexual conduct as married men, and their sexual escapades as adolescents. To the professors, sexual engagement by married men when they were adolescents a generation ago did not necessarily speak to the adolescents of present day. They also alleged that Kinsey had used testing methods on humans that he previously used on animals.28 However, taking a closer look at his introduction, Kinsey

explained, “Before it is possible to think scientifically on any of these matters, more

needs to be known about the actual behavior of people, and about the inter-relationships

26

of that behavior with the biologic and social aspects of their histories.”29 What becomes

clear, at least within the academic world, is that social scientists were disgusted that

Kinsey would treat human test subjects as mere animals. Sociologists and psychologists accused Kinsey of ignoring the individuality and humanity of his test subjects.

Kinsey received further criticism from academics when in late March 1948 psychologists, psychiatrists, sociologists, and anthropologists met at a conference to discuss social hygiene. Scholars at the conference attempted to “throw the book” at

Kinsey. Although disappointed that the entomologist was not invited, Margaret Mead lambasted Kinsey for not factoring in the human emotion of sex. Psychiatrist Dr. Jule

Eisenbud suggested that Kinsey’s ardent evangelical background biased his study.

Eisenbud agreed with Mead that Kinsey ignored human individuality, and he added that as a biologist, Kinsey “wants to give us the impression that the range of sexual function is primarily biological in origin, ignoring that there are many men driven by compulsive need to demonstrate their masculinity.”30

On 5 June 1948, Kinsey responded to critics. He defended himself against the

accusations that he thought culture was unimportant to human sexual behavior. Speaking

before the American Psychological Association, Kinsey professed that societal norms had more impact on sexual behavior than society’s laws. Strongly acknowledging individual choice in sexual relations, Kinsey alleged that “‘Heredity also might be a cause, but not a strong one.’”31

In the Cold War era when sexuality was considered a choice by both the public

and the medical community, Kinsey’s study suggested that sexuality was the ultimate in

individual choice. However, most scientists and Americans viewed homosexuality as a mental disorder, thus, suggesting a lack of control.32 Men who succumbed to unnatural

27

sex urges were weak or soft. America’s first transsexual, Christine Jorgenson further

challenged rigid gender roles.33 On 1 December 1952, newspapers announced that after

the world’s first successful sexual reassignment surgery in Denmark, WWII veteran

George William Jorgenson Jr. became “an attractive blonde.”34 Jorgenson’s surgery not

only suggested that biological sex was not fixed, but that neither were gender roles. Her

surgery displayed the ease in which one could change both sex and gender.

The need to project a traditional American image of masculine heterosexual

control proved necessary during the communist scares of the Cold War, particularly

during Senator Joseph McCarthy’s communist witch-hunts. These inquisitions were not

about communism alone, but also about reasserting heterosexual dominance. According

to one of McCarthy’s aides, the senator linked subversives together as “‘pinks, punks,

and perverts,’” who lingered as employees of the State Department, affecting the very

safety of Americans. McCarthy referred to these “‘subversives’” as “‘a veritable nest of

Communists, fellow travelers, homosexuals, effete Ivy League intellectuals, and traitors.’”35 McCarthy was not alone in his sentiments. Head of the Federal Bureau of

Investigations (FBI), J. Edgar Hoover, saw the problem as a lack of self-control.36

Another ardent anti-homosexual politician, Arthur Miller (R-NE), helped write

several of Washington D.C.’s “sexual psychopath” laws. His mission was to make it illegal for homosexuals to be employed within the federal government. On 31 March

1950, Miller passionately declared before the House: “I would like to strip the fetid, stinking flesh off the skeleton of homosexuality….” He congratulated the State

Department on its recent resignation of 91 homosexuals. But where are they now, the

Congressman asked. They were walking the streets of the District of Columbia. Police figures estimated that between six and eight thousand lived in the city. Homosexuals

28

were roaming the streets, according to Miller, gathering for “sex orgies” acting as

“pimps” and other “undesirable characters.” Wondering aloud to the group, Miller asked,

“how many of these homosexuals have had a part in shaping our foreign policy?... It is a known fact that homosexuality goes back to the Orientals,…. the Russians are strong believers in homosexuality.”37 Americans believed that homosexuality disrupted gender roles and threatened masculinity.

Representative George H. Christopher (D-MO) condemned Miller, insisting that the talk over homosexuals in government gave them “free advertising.” Congressman

Harley Staggers (D-WV) demanded that if these homosexuals were suspected of treason, they should be given a fair trial. To these statements before the House, Representative

Richard W. Hoffman (R-IL) pointed out that the Democrats had been in control for the past 13 to 15 years. And yet, they allowed homosexuals to run all over Washington. “For the last 10 years practically everybody in Washington knew about all this [sic] disreputable, dirty, nasty bunch on the Federal pay roll… Now the gentleman objects to their being exposed. If he wants to take them home and live with them, all right; but you have no right—. [sic]” Representative Christopher asked Hoffman to “yield” but he refused and continued blaming the Democrats for the onslaught of homosexuals in government. He suggested of Christopher: “Maybe the gentleman likes them

[homosexuals]; I do not; neither do my people.”38

Fears of homosexuals infiltrating the government, if not the country, only grew louder as the summer approached. In July 1950, Senator Kenneth S. Wherry (R-NE) stated “You can’t hardly separate homosexuals from subversives….”39 Pundits lambasted

Presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson for his un-masculine behavior of being both

“‘soft’” on communism and an “‘egghead’” supported by “‘Harvard lace cuff liberals.’”40

29

Papers such as the New York Daily News went so far as to take shots at Stevenson’s

voices calling it “‘fruity.’” Michael Kimmel summed up popular culture’s obsession with

masculinity as,

The trappings of gender failure were all around us in the 1950s, and American men discovered what happened to men who failed, especially the sons of men who failed as breadwinners and fathers. They became homosexual, they became juvenile delinquents, they became Communists— soft, spineless dupes of a foreign power, who were incapable of standing up for themselves.41 During a 30 September 1950 Republican fundraiser in Atlantic City,

Representative Leonard W. Hall (R-NY) accused the Democratic Party of being run by

“‘fuzzy-minded pinks.’”42 Republicans consistently accused Secretary of State Dean

Acheson of being a homosexual. Republicans called for more firings of suspected

homosexuals in the State Department. They wanted to get rid of Acheson’s men.43

Attacks against homosexuals continued in Congress.

On 1 May 1952, Representative Katherine St. George (R-NY) warned Congress

of a possible “Homosexual International,” an international conspiracy theory coined by

popular writer, R.G. Waldeck. Waldeck cautioned that homosexuals were organized internationally and were working in foreign affairs offices. They liked to “staff” their foreign officers with their “own people,” she warned. The real threat, wrote Waldeck, came in the form of an “alliance between the homosexual international and the

Communist International [that] started at the dawn of the Pink Decade.” Today, the homosexual international works are “a sort of auxiliary of the Communist International.

This is more alarming since the homosexuals are multiplying as the sand upon the seashore.” To combat this upsurge in homosexuals, Waldeck demanded the American government fire all homosexuals, educate the American people, get rid of this “love—

30

and—let—love” attitude that “lulls society into a false sense of security” and finally,

above all, teach Americans the “admirable art of self-control.”44

The pink panic was widespread. On 6 November 1953, the New York Times

reported the firing of 1,456 government workers, 384 from the Department of State alone,

under the Eisenhower Administration’s crackdown on security risks and governmental

employees. The administration aimed these firings at “homosexuals, alcoholics,

‘blabbermouths,’ as well as Communists and Red Sympathizers.”45 What the flourishing

subcultures of gays and lesbians and the frenzy over the Kinsey studies show is a fear of

the loss of self control. The need for Cold War masculinity in the 1950s was a theme

surrounding American life and thought.

Fears of homosexuality and collectivism ran deep. To combat the masculinity

crisis, Americans wrote widely of the rejection of collectivism and a return to American individualism. Ayn Rand’s works such as The Fountainhead (1943), Atlas Shrugged

(1957), and Anthem (1961), portrayed the debate between the individual and the organization. For example, The Fountainhead’s hero, modernist architect Howard Roark, struggled to invoke his architectural vision in his firm. In the 1949 movie, Roark railed against “soulless collectivism” while declaring that “Greatness comes from the independent work of independent minds.”46

In the public discourse, 1950s Americans took the myths of the nineteenth century individual and struggled to create a Cold War pioneer. As they fought to create this image

of Cold War masculinity, another target for the masculinity crisis became the fear of

automation. Intellectuals suggested that the Cold War man pushed buttons, while the

nineteenth century pioneer tamed the unsettled wilderness. In 1950, sociologist David

Riesman supported the return to the nineteenth century pioneer image. Riesman

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introduced American sociology and popular culture to the struggle between individual identity and conformity throughout the entirety of American history in his work The

Lonely Crowd: A Study of the Changing American Character. He argued that in early

American history, man did conform to his society. However, in the time period in which the United States experienced its greatness, to Riesman the nineteenth century, men were rugged pioneers, controlling their environment.

For example, Riesman suggested that American character originally began with the tradition-directed man. This man’s character held fast to familial and cultural traditions, leaving him with little autonomy to make decisions outside his cultural norms.

His ability to follow tradition decided his conformity. However, the industrial revolution in the mid-nineteenth century caused a shift toward the inner-directed man whose individuality of character was highly developed. While, like the tradition-directed man, the inner-directed man did conform to certain societal standards, these standards alone were not fulfilling. For the inner-directed man, “personal choice” is not dictated by societal norms, but rather “is solved by channeling choice through a rigid though highly individualized character.” As man exercised individuality, he began to control his own life. To gain control, the inner-directed man needed to “master resource exploitation on all the fronts of which he is conscious.” In essence, he is the entrepreneur, the captain of industry, the pioneer, and frontiersman.47 To Riesman, the technology of the industrial revolution had refashioned American culture. The interconnectedness between technology and culture formulated Riesman’s second shift in American culture.

During the twentieth century, as working in agriculture, manufacturing and industries declined, a third archetype emerged, what Riesman referred to as the other-

directed man. Riesman observed that an education geared toward differences in cultures,

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services, leisure, and the consumption of words and images from the new mass media, popular culture, and peer groups gave rise to the new American character. He hypothesized that the other-directed “Captains of Non-Industry, of Consumption, and

Leisure,” replaced the “inner-directed Captains of Industry.” The other-directed man received direction from his contemporaries, whether that direction was from his family, friends, popular culture, or from media outlets. These directions shifted depending on what “signals,” “actions,” and “wishes,” he received from others. Riesman admitted that all peoples throughout time, at one point or another, “want to be liked,” but it is the other- directed man who makes it his primary goal. By wanting to be liked, the other-directed man did not show individuality or control. It should be noted that Riesman does not explicitly suggest that either the traditional, inner, or other directed “people” only refer to the characters of men. However, since he alluded to the economic emancipation of women as reasons for these shifts in American character, it can be inferred that

Riesman’s three characters are images of masculinity.48

In 1962, David M. Potter argued in “American Women and the American

Character,” that since women traditionally have been dependent, they cultivated

sensitivity to the mood and expectations of others. In their dependence, women quickly

adapted to these moods and expectations. Therefore, women have always been other-

directed.49 Consequently, they could not have had an inner-directed character. Similarly,

James Gilbert argues that Riesman’s three character types represent a fear of “besieged masculinity.” Riesman’s character shifts insinuated transformations in “male culture through American history—in fact, as an implicit warning that men were becoming like women, which is to say, other-directed.” Gilbert argues that the most compelling part of

Riesman’s work “was its potential for understanding the most serious questions of the

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1950s: how to remain an individual—how to be a man in an increasingly feminized world of mass culture consumption, and conformity.”50 In the public discourse, the answers to

these fears of a besieged masculinity depended upon the creation of an invigorated Cold

War masculinity of rugged individualism and control.

In 1951, sociologist C. Wright Mills followed Riesman’s work. Mills denigrated

the new white middle class man as weak. To Mills, men of the white middle class did

“not threaten anyone,” and failed to “practice an independent life.” Mills saw men as

weak and conformist. Mills professed that the men of the nineteenth century,

businessmen and farmers alike, were “individuals” and “their own men.” In the twentieth

century, the “white-collar man has never been independent as the farmer…as the business

man. He has always been somebody’s man, the corporation’s, the government’s, the

army’s; and he is seen as the man who does not rise.” Blaming what he saw as the downfall of free entrepreneurship on male conformity, Mills stressed the “rise of the

dependent employee” and the “decline of the independent individual.”51

William Whyte Jr. took the fears of this new Cold War conformist man and

named him “the organization man.” Whyte’s organization men not only worked for the

institution but they belonged to it as well. “They are the ones of our middle class who have left home, spiritually as well as physically, to take the vows of the organization life, and it is they who are the mind and soul of great self-perpetuating institutions.” Like

others before him, Whyte sought for a return to the characteristics of the mythical

nineteenth century pioneer image. He argued that this long ago pioneer embodied the

“Protestant Ethic” of which Whyte defined as, “there is almost always the thought that pursuit of individual salvation through hard work, thrift, and competitive struggle is the

heart of the American achievement.” He bemoaned the end of the Protestant Ethic and

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the loss of “self-reliance.” He claimed that the organization man preferred “safety to

adventure.”52 These fears of safety over adventure found themselves within the

transformation of flight in the Cold War era from rugged individual pioneering to the

creation of large feminized corporations.

Popular culture writers appeared to fear the organization man’s perfectible society

of organization, preferring instead, a society in which Cold War masculinity triumphed

over conformity and weakness. The year the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, 1957,

journalist Richard Gehman wrote a scathing editorial for Cosmopolitan entitled

“Toupees, Girdles, and Sun Lamps.” The article lambasted American men and women for the blurring of gender roles as men domesticated themselves within the home.53 That

same year, Norman Mailer pointed to the hipster as the new the pop culture icon in his

essay “The White Negro.” Mailer warned of the “slow death [of the individual] by

conformity with every creative and rebellious instinct stifled.” Looking back at the fear of

dissension that encapsulated the Germans in World War II, Mailer mourned, “One could

hardly maintain the courage to be [an] individual, to speak with one’s own voice,...”54

Mailer’s hipster rejected organized mainstream society in favor of escaping into the self.

The hipster embodied not only the self-reliance of Whyte’s Protestant Ethic and

Strecker’s self-preservation but also Cold War masculinity, the individual man striving to gain control of his life back from the group.

In a much bolder thesis, Schlesinger once again lambasted Cold War gender roles.

After the launch of Sputnik, he wrote “The Crisis of American Masculinity.” The article appeared in both the 1958 edition of the men’s magazine, Esquire, and the predominantly women’s magazine, Look. Schlesinger detailed the growing independence of women and the increasing domestication of the American male. While Schlesinger found that more

35

men became a “substitute for wife and mother—changing diapers, washing dishes, cooking meals, and performing a whole series of what once were considered female duties”—to Schlesinger, the root of the problem was not necessarily women. While

American women were taking over more of the “big decisions” and “controlling men,” the plight of the American male did not center on female aggression alone, but rather with the American male’s “uncertainty about his identity in general. Nothing is harder in the whole human condition than to achieve a full sense of identity—than to know who you are, where you are going, and what you mean to live and die for.” Schlesinger’s remedy for this problem dictated that every man must recover his “individual spontaneity” and “visualize himself as an individual apart from the group.”55

The alarm over the loss of individuality and control manifested itself into the

1960 presidential campaign. Like Schlesinger, both Massachusetts Senator John F.

Kennedy and Vice President Richard M. Nixon expressed concern over the loss of

American individuality. Kennedy lamented before the press on 1 January 1960:

We are, I am afraid, in danger of losing something solid at the core. We are losing that Pilgrim and pioneer spirit of initiative and independence—that old-fashioned Spartan devotion to ‘duty, honor, and country.’ We don’t need that spirit now, we think. Now we have cars to drive and buttons to push and TV to watch—and pre-cooked meals and prefab houses. We stick to the orthodox, to the easy way and the organization man. We take for granted our security, our liberty, and our future—when we cannot take any of them for granted at all.56 Kennedy’s statement suggested a longing for an imagined past. In this past, Americans performed not only “Spartan” toughness, but were doers; they welcomed a hard life of exploration and independent living. Kennedy compared that past with a contemporary image; he pointed to Whyte’s organization man. The image presented there was a

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manifest softness, an America lacking individuality and control as well as a can-do attitude, which had characterized Sparta and pioneering. To Kennedy, in the organization man’s world, comfort and ease were pre-arranged. Instead of devotion to independence and country, Kennedy, like Whyte, saw Cold War Americans permitting comfort, leisure, automation, authority, and conformity to control their lives. In his speech, Americans were not doing or leading, they were accepting and following. By utilizing Whyte’s organization man in a political speech, Kennedy infused the discourse of popular culture into the dialogue of American politics, security, and technology. This precise formulation among culture, politics, and technology increasingly became part of the Cold War public discourse. The following summer, Kennedy again spoke of the importance of individual toughness when he wrote in Life magazine:

our national purpose consists of…striving, risking, choosing, making decisions, engaging in a pursuit of happiness that is strenuous, heroic, exciting and exalted. When we do so as individuals, we make a nation that, in Jefferson’s words, will always be ‘in the full tide of successful experiment.’57 Kennedy claimed the four goals of America’s future were survival, competition, peace, and prosperity. In order to reach these goals, the national purpose must be “The fulfillment of every individual’s dignity and potential.” 58 To Kennedy, the root of

American greatness depended on the individuality.

Nixon countered with a speech also appearing in Life, entitled, “Our Resolve Is

Running Strong.” Nixon asserted that the greatness of America rested on its “vigor.”

Nixon stressed that the United States was “a society of individuals. Our institutions project outward from people, not downward to people. The individual initiates, society imitates. The individual follows his endless curiosity; society builds roads that follow his

37

footprints.”59 Nixon continued with the theme of an individual society when in

November 1960 he encouraged America’s youth, “to take the right road, the high road of individual initiative and dependence on one’s self.”60

Pundits in popular magazines jumped at the chance to pinpoint growing fears of a

masculinity crisis. A December 1950 article in Better Homes and Gardens asked

American parents “Are we staking our future on a crop of sissies?” The author, Andre

Fontaine, lamented that “You have a horror of seeing your son a pantywaist, but he won’t get red blood and self-reliance if you leave the whole job of making a he-man of him to his mother.” Fontaine’s article instructed parents on how to make their boys grow up to be “independent, mature men.” Much like Dr. Spock, Fontaine implored fathers to also

take part in the child’s rearing during the first two years of the child’s life. He suggested the father hold, feed, and changes the baby so that instead of looking solely to the mother as one to identify with, the impressionable child will also look to the father. In order to prevent the boy from becoming a sissy, Fontaine implored a refashioning in gender parenting roles in which men engaged in the “women’s work” of taking care of the children. Connecting both technology and culture, Fontaine hypothesized that one reason

American boys were more prone to becoming sissies in the industrial age was because the country was no longer a land of farmers. He explained, “On the farm, a boy went into the barns and fields, working alongside his father. The more he learned, the more independence and self-confidence he had, because he was doing men’s work.”61

Fontaine warned of the growing threat of automation and corporations. Other

popular magazines carried the same messages. Life ran a two part series by Ernest

Havemann that criticized “The Emptiness of Too Much Leisure.” He professed that too

much technology made American men weak. Havemann blamed the onslaught of male

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leisure in the 1950s to an “automatic and a shrinking work week.” He cautioned that mechanization “brings a real threat to all of us.”62 In 1960, Senator Kennedy also warned

against “the steady replacement of men by machines.”63 Sociologists, psychologists, and

psychiatrists all feared that if men found themselves with too many hours of free time

they would become “restless, jittery, bored, and irritable, personally miserable and

intolerable….” Fearing a cog mentality, Dr. Richard Bellman, a mathematician at the

Rand Corporation, believed that “automation has already shown a truly remarkable

capacity to replace human muscle and brainpower….”64

Dr. Paul Haun, chairman of the American Psychiatric Association’s committee for

the study of leisure, argued that the age of leisure was brought on by automation that

created more mechanical comforts such as air conditioning, automobiles, and mass production; however, there was an upside to this automatic movement. While automation suggested the lack of individual identity, the products from automation created avenues for Americans to express their individual identity. Americans demonstrated individuality and choice through the consumption of products. For every job lost to automation, each man is able to “take part in a great renaissance of personal service and attention to individual taste…” Haun insisted that luxuries such as expensive houses, jewelry, mink coats, and fancy automobiles acted not as symbols of conformity but actually as symbols of “hard work, virtue, social prestige, [and] standing in the community.”65

The articles in Life pertaining to the apprehension of growing leisure were a

response to the 19 July 1963 Life article, “The Point of No Return for Everybody.” The

article captured the main fear of American automation’s “mixed blessings” as “it

produces goods at lower cost, making it possible for more people to buy them and thus

spurring the economy. But it displaces men.” The article describes a machinist’s new

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profession as “All he has to do is press the button to start the machine and then monitor it. All he has to know is what his machine looks like so he can find it when he comes to work.”66 While Americans consumed personal identity through leisure, their work

identity became as passive as pushing buttons.

Communications Workers president, Joseph Beirnes, argued in New Horizons for

Labor that the future the job of U.S. factory workers will be that of “‘people in white

coats baby-sitting for push buttons.’”67 Articles that forewarned the loss of male productivity to machines represented the fears of a growing masculinity crisis. Flight also

faced the dilemma of loss of male production to machinery and technology. Male

passengers in flight outnumbered male pilots. Men’s relationship to flight technology was

changing. Men were becoming passive actors. Modern flying with machines and

computers created a new dialogue of flight in the 1950s. This dialogue highlighted Cold

War conversations about masculinity. Were men doers or were they passengers? Those

within American popular culture debated whether or not the machine took the control

away from the pilot, thus demasculinizing flight, or whether flight represented the

ultimate in Cold War masculinity, that of individual control through individual choice.

Four years after World War II, the Washington D.C. Aero Club presented Charles

Lindbergh with the Wright Brothers Memorial Trophy. In a speech that was broadcasted

throughout the country, the forty-seven year old flyer said that back in his “log-cabin

days” of flying, piloting was simpler. “Today, the world has created the atmosphere as a

‘hothouse’ threatening the very survival of the human race.” For survival, according to

Lindbergh, man needed to “balance science” with “body,” “spirit,” and “mind.” To the

flier, these were characteristics one could not develop if “he lets mechanics and luxury translate him too greatly.” Lindbergh asked the audience what happened to the days of

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“iron men and wooden ships?” The downfall of aviation, Lindbergh suggested, began with the “self-starter” and “closed cockpit.” He argued, “We must not let science hypnotize us into believing that simply by sitting in front of desks and drawing boards and instruments all day we are contributing to the character of man.”68 Lindbergh wanted

men to be outdoors, physically controlling the machine.

The main speaker of the evening, a former designer for Ford, Senator Ralph E.

Flanders (R-VT), countered Lindbergh’s argument with his own highly masculinized

argument. Flanders argued that the modern technology of flying gave the U.S. the ability

to control the air as Britain once controlled the seas.69 These are two very different

arguments from both men; however both men balked at the organization man in favor of

creating a masculine image of control in flight. Unfortunately for the two men, civilian

flying in the post-World War II era blossomed into a family friendly atmosphere. The

commercial image of flight promised comfort over daring.

New scientific and technical developments during World War II helped flying

become routine. Flying during the war, either as pilots or passengers, familiarized GIs

with flight.70 The cost of flying previously regulated airborne travel to the wealthy.

However, the economic boom in the 1950s marshaled in a new mode of transportation as

well as a new relationship between Americans and the airplane. The emphasis on flying

was no longer focused on death defying stunt to display one’s masculine prowess. In the

late 1940s and 1950s, flying became a passive, if not domesticated, activity that could be

done by men, women, children, and the elderly. Even civilian pilot schools helped

routinized flight.

During the war, Cessna Aircraft Company promoted their Cessna Family Car of

the Air. The company envisioned that every middle class American family would soon

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fly instead of drive. In 1942, they predicted a $700 price tag per “airplane for the everyman.”71 While Cessna’s predictions never came true, the family friendly

atmosphere changed the image of the cockpit from one focused on the technology of the

plane to one centered on the family inside the cockpit. 1950s Cessna advertisements

underscored the plane’s new technology that added to the “comfort” of flying.72

Other private plane manufacturers followed suit. A 1945 advertisement proposed

that anyone could fly a Piper Cub. In this particular 1945 advertisement, it was a woman

who wanted to learn to fly. The young male pilot showed the young female, Mary, some

“advanced maneuvers” that would make her a better pilot. She replied, “They’re certainly

easy to learn in the Piper Cub.” The advertisement even suggested one could purchase a

book on how to fly a Piper Cub because when it came to flying, “it’s that simple.”73

A 1947 advertisement for Stinson personal planes also advertised how easy it was

to fly. The 1948 Stinson boasted higher speeds and greater payloads. The plane fits four

people comfortably hailing “roomy interiors—newly styled by the famous designer

Henry Dreyfuss,” with “plenty of luggage space.” Much like flying the Piper Cub, flying

the Stinson could be done with “ease.” For Stinson pilots, control over the craft had become “simplified.” Stinson students could “learn to fly solo in ten hours of less.” The new model for 1947 was the “flying station wagon.”74 In the spring of 1965, at the height

of the Space Race, Piper announced in an advertisement, “If you think flying’s just for

supermen, read how these ordinary automobile drivers Fly Piper.”75 Not only could

anyone, no matter their gender, fly a plane, but the ease of the new technology took the

rugged individual control out of flying.

As private flying became geared toward ordinary Americans, so too did the

largely organizational commercial flying. Flight advertisements did not focus on the pilot

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image, but rather on the image of the passengers. The importance of flight transitioned

from the rugged individual image of the pilot controlling the plane, to the feminized

image of the domesticated cabin. Cold War commercial flight advertisements highlighted

the luxury of flying. Announcements paid for by various American airlines touted their

“comfort,” “convenience,” “cleanliness,” “courtesy,” and of course their “delicious full-

course meals.”76 The leisure of flying also changed the pilot image. A 1947 ad for

Curtiss-Wright called its new four engines electronically timed as one as a “Symphony of

Power.” On a Douglas DC-6 passengers benefitted from a “smoother, pleasanter flight

than ever before. To pilots it meant freedom from the annoyance of making constant

adjustments.” At Curtiss-Wright, engineers made flying “more enjoyable for the passenger” and “simpler and more economical for the operator.”77

The public image of the flyer who once risked his life performing air acrobatics or

flying in the skies over Germany and Japan, now, looked just like everyone else within

white society. An early advertisement by American Airlines displayed a group of white

middle class Americans watching a game of golf. The advertisement asked, “Who travels

by air…can you point them out?” This article suggests that it is impossible to decipher

those who fly from those who do not because air transportation was available to a

“rapidly increasing number of people.”78 The flyer was no longer distinctive. He was

ordinary. Advertisements for airlines appeared throughout newspapers and magazines

with catchy slogans such as “Millions on the Move…by Air!” In this particular advertisement from the nation’s leading airlines and aviation manufacturers, the advertisement reduced flying to a mode of transportation for everyday citizens. The Cold

War “flyer” was not the pilot, but rather, the passenger. Flying was not equated with the

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work of a rugged individual man mastering his machine and environment but rather,

“well-earned leisure.”79

This leisure can be looked at in another way. Leisure and personalized vacations

indicated a man who had worked and was enjoying his reward for his individual initiative of hard work. Men deserved the well-earned leisure and dependability of flight.

Manufacturers of the Douglas Super DC-3 advertised the plane as able to fly “wherever you live.” The DC-3’s “new powerful twin engines…and a host of new conveniences” were “dependable.”80 American airlines ran an advertisement touting the routinization of flight when it suggested, “Every 57 seconds, 24 hours a day a Flagship arrives or departs.”81 American Airlines argued that if one added up the number of miles their

passengers have flown, the airline had completed “more than 23,000 trips to the moon.”

While they professed that this noted “public confidence” in their airline, it also suggested

the normalization of flying.82

A 1948 Trans World Airlines (TWA) advertisement suggested that TWA was

“doing the work for you.” The advertisement argued that their passengers had already

engaged in hard work. While flying for TWA, men did not have to work. As passengers,

men could relax and enjoy their own leisure time. If one belonged to TWA’s Skyclub or

stayed in one of their skysleepers, the traveler benefited from “appetizing meals, restful appointments, a personal radio, alert attention to your every wish…nothing is omitted that could add to your pleasure.”83 Another advertisement wrote of the benefits of flying

in one of America’s finest fleets. The ad boasted of TWA’s delicious and complimentary

meals, careful baggage handling, and room for playing cards or checkers.84

Martin Aircraft proposed that flying brought control and freedom because

traveling by air gave its passengers “Time…Time…Time!”85 TWA maintained that

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flying was not for stunts anymore but for travel that gave its passengers a sense of

“luxury.”86 With TWA, passengers had experienced just how “grand,” “glorious,”

“convenient,” and “comfortable” flying had become for the average passenger.87 These

advertisements offered personalized choices for the individual hard work of Mr. Success.

However, Mr. Success was not controlling the technology of flight, he was a passenger.

In man’s passenger status, TWA domesticated flying.

The domestication of flight continued. TWA argued that flying should be “for the

whole family.”88 Many advertisements did not even use men to sell flight. In a TWA

poster, a mother said “…and I thought it would be hard to take the children so far!...(until

another mother told me about TWA).” The larger center picture within the advertisement

depicted a mother flying with her two small children. The husband appeared only in a

small picture on the bottom left helping his wife decide where to take the family. Helping

the mother take care of a small child, a stewardess appeared in the main frame.89 Flying

became so easy that even the elderly could fly. TWA suggested that “grandma leads a fast life…and loves it!” because when she travels TWA “grandma is in good hands.”90 A

stewardess maintained that onboard TWA she found “Old Folks at Home.”91 Elderly

flyers did not represent the rugged individualism and control that flyers once represented.

If grandma could fly, what made flying so daring?

Despite the family friendly atmosphere presented, advertisements also targeted

single female travelers. “Who says, “It’s a Man’s World?” implored one TWA

advertisement. Flying with the safety and comfort of TWA allowed women to travel

“alone.” With airline travel, “Her horizons are broader…she’s found new freedom and

great opportunity to see and enjoy.”92 With woman enjoying the freedom of flying, they

too exercised control within the public sphere.

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In the winter of 1957, Boeing introduced its revolutionary new 707. The plane cut travel time greatly for passengers. Writers glorified the new jet as “winged luxury, comfort—with a complete sense of security,” “secure and steady, despite the fighter-like performance,” and “effortless.”93 In contrast to the 707, Douglas touted its DC-7 as not

only the “world’s fastest airliner,” but also a plane of “unbeatable luxury and comfort”

equipped with a spacious cabin that are “pressurized, air conditioned, soundproofed” all

in an effort to make your “travel completely restful.”94 To make the advertisement even

more family friendly, and therefore unmasculine, Douglas depicted flight in the new jet

by using a picture of white grandparents meeting their two small grandchildren. The

airline industry was everywhere and for everyone within white society. Pacific Southwest

Airlines advertised that they had more jet flights between San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego than any other airliner.95 The routinization of flying is best exemplified in

a 1970 advertisement for Lufthansa German-Airlines. The advertisement asked, “What’s

the difference between their 747 and our 747?” The advertisement answered that like

most 747s, Lufthansa had “9 hostesses, 6 stewards, 2 aisles, 4 movie screens, 8 stereo channels, 10 lobbies, and 3 galleys of magnificent 2-story flying machine. Just like the others.” The difference was Lufthansa Maitre d’ served Bavarian wine and a sizeable beer selection.96 The message was clear; flying was easy, and above all, luxurious. To

regain the moxy that flying once had, pilots would have to fly farther, faster, and perhaps,

out of this world.

Conclusion World War II ushered in challenges to accepted American gender roles. The war

questioned the superiority of white males as the protectors of society, but at the same

time, the war kept minorities and women as second class citizens. Cold War discourse 46

frequently emphasized psychological ailments, momism, and fears of homosexuals infiltrating the military and government. The war touted individual control on the battlefield, but also, lauded group conformity. To keep the booming economy going after the war, American companies urged both men and women to consume. Corporations grew and men donned gray flannel suits and marched from the battlefield to the office.

Intellectuals, pundits, and sociologists feverishly explored the inner workings of both the

American psyche and the American character. Civil rights movements burgeoned and, to some, threatened the status and privileges of white males. Automation continued to threaten the autonomy of men as machines took the place of the worker. According to

American journalists and popular culture magazines, Cold War Americans enjoyed too much leisure. Magazines portrayed white America enjoying the good life. However,

Americans feared communism, conformity, feminism, homosexuality, bureaucracy, male consumerism, leisure, automation, and the dreaded corporate “organization man” as a threat to masculinity. Americans questioned what it meant to be masculine in the new nuclear age. The American discourse suggested that Cold War masculinity meant a return to rugged individuality and both physical and mental control. Americans wanted control over themselves and their own identity. They wanted choice.

The history of flight did not escape the crisis of masculinity. Within the context of the Cold War, the image of flight, of who flies and who controls flight, became refashioned around the individual against the organization man dichotomy. The image of who could fly continued as flight transitioned from commercial aviation to spaceflight.

As the Soviet Union launched the first man-made satellite, Americans faced a new threat to Cold War masculinity.

47

1. Mike Wallace 1959 interview of Ayn Rand, The Mike Wallace Interview, CBS, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ukJiBZ8_4k&feature=player_embedded (part 1); http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMTDaVpBPR0&feature=related (part 2); http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEruXzQZhNI&feature=related (part 3) (accessed September 1, 2011).

2. Ibid., http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEruXzQZhNI&feature=related (part 3) (accessed September 1, 2011).

3. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 223.

4. See Bederman, Manliness and Civilization, 50.

5. Lorry M. Fenner and Marie De Young, Women in Combat: Civic Duty or Military Liability? (Georgetown: Georgetown University Press, 2001), 52-55.

6. Michael C.C. Adams, The Best War Ever: America and World War II (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), 83.

7. Ibid., 85. See also, Mattie E. Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, vol. 8 of The United States Army in World War II, Special Studies (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1954); D’Ann Campbell, Women at War with America: Private Lives in a Patriotic Era (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1984); and Leisa D. Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998).

8. Evelyn Monahan and Rosemary Neidel-Greenlee, And if I Perish: Frontline U.S. Army Nurses in World War II (New York: Anchor Books, 2003). See also Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane and Hacker, Pleasure, Power, and Technology: Some Tales of Gender, Engineering, and the Cooperative Workplace (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989), 58-74. Hacker argues that the key to understanding gender and technology is through the patriarchy of military institutions that pervade American society.

9. Doris A. Paul, The Navajo Code Talkers (Philadelphia: Dorrance & Company, 1973); William C. Meadows, The Comanche Code Talkers of World War II (Austin, T.X.: University of Texas Press, 2002); Alison R. Bernstein, American Indians and World War II: Toward a New Era of Indian Affairs (Norman, O.K.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991).

10. President Harry S. Truman, “Executive Order 9981,” Harry S. Truman Library and Museum, http://www.trumanlibrary.org/9981.htm (accessed December 8, 2010).

11. Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 2-3.

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12. Raymond Sobel, “The Battalion Surgeons as Psychiatrist,” Bulletin of the U.S. Army Medical Department, suppl., (Washington, D.C.: War Dept., Office of the Surgeon General, 1949), 38. As cited in, Kimmel, Manhood in America, 225.

13. Bill Davidson, “Why Half Our Combat Soldiers Fail to Shoot,” Colliers, November 8, 1952, 16-18.

14. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 225.

15. Norman Mailer, The Naked and the Dead (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1948). Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1961).

16. Adams, The Best War Ever, 95; See also John Keegan, The Second World War (New York: Penguin, 1990), 156; Ernie Pyle, Brave Men (1944; repr., Lincoln, N.E.: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 270, 451; Studs Terkel, The Good War: An Oral History of World War II (New York: New Press, 1997).

17. Philip Wylie, A Generation of Vipers (New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1942), 187-188; Also cited in Kimmel, Manhood in America, 252-253, 255.

18. Benjamin Spock, M.D., The Pocket Book of Baby and Child Care, 2nd ed. (New York: Pocket Books, Inc., 1951), 3, 14, 15, 18-21. For more information on the Cold War father’s role in childbirth see, Judith Walzear Leavitt, Make Room for Daddy: The Journey from Waiting Room to Birthing Room (Chapel Hill, N.C.: The University of North Carolina Press, 2009).

19. David Levy, Maternal Overprotection (New York: Columbia University Press, 1943); Edward Strecker, M.D., Their Mother’s Sons (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1946).

20. Strecker, M.D., Their Mother’s Sons, 6. See also Adams, The Best War Ever, 95.

21. Margaret Mead, And Keep Your Powder Dry (New York: Morrow, 1942), 68-69, 37, 142, 151, 157. See the citation also in Kimmel, Manhood in America, 229-230.

22. Arthur Schlesinger Jr., The Vital Center (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1949), 3, 53.

23. Ibid., 1, 3, 4, 5, 9, 54, 56, 87, 36-38. To note, Arthur Schlesinger won the Pulitzer Prize for history in 1945 for The Age of Jackson (Boston: Back Bay Books, 1945).

24. Cuordileone, “‘Politics in an Age of Anxiety’: Cold War Political Culture and the Crisis of American Masculinity, 1949-1960,” The Journal of American History 87, no.2 (September 2000): 516.

49

25. Alfred C. Kinsey, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (Philadelphia: W.B. Saunders & Company, 1948), 261, 6.

26. John D’Emilio and Estelle B. Freedman, Intimate Matters: A History of Sexuality in America (New York: Harper & Row, 1988), 285.

27. Waldermar Kaempffert, “Science in Review: The Now Famous Kinsey Report Is Criticized On Statistical and Sociological Grounds,” New York Times, March 7, 1948, E9.

28. Ibid.

29. Kinsey, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, 3.

30. Associated Press, “Speakers Assail Kinsey Report; Dr. Eisenbud Charges Biologist With Deep Biases, Dr. Mead With Important Omission; Social Hygiene Executives Here for a Three-Day Conference Enliven Opening Discussion,” New York Times, March 31, 1948, L27.

31. Associated Press, “Society Biggest Leash on Homos, Dr. Kinsey Says,” Alton (Illinois) Evening Telegraph, June 5, 1948, 1.

32. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSMII,) “Sexual Deviation: Homosexuality, ”2nd ed. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 1968), 302.0.

33. Joanne Meyerowitz, How Sex Changed: A History of Transexuality in the United States (Boston: Harvard University Press, 2004).

34. Associated Press, “Ex-GI Is Happy Now As Woman: Surgery, Hormones Change Sex of Young New Yorker,” News Palladium (Benton Harbor, Michigan), December 1, 1952, 1; See also, Kimmel, Manhood in America, 237.

35. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 237. See also, Dean, Imperial Brotherhood; D’Emilio and Freedman, Intimate Matters; David K. Johnson, The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004); David Savran, Communists, Cowboys, and Queers: The Politics of Masculinity in the World of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992), 4-5; and Lawrence S. Wittner, Cold War America: From Hiroshima to Watergate (New York: Praeger, 1974).

36. Johnson, The Lavender Scare,12.

37. Cong. Rec., 81st Cong., 2d sess., 1950, 96, pt. 4: 4527-4528. More information on Arthur Miller’s crusade against homosexuals can be found in Johnson, The Lavender Scare, 29, 58, 63.

50

38. Cong. Rec.,81st Cong., 2d sess., 1950, 96, pt. 4: 4669-4670.

39. Max Lerner, New York Post, July 17, 1950; On homosexuals in government, see also James Marlow (AP) “They’re Not Helped—‘Hush—Hush’ Subject Is Frankly Discussed,” The Bismarck Tribune, (North Dakota) May 25, 1950, 17. See also, Kimmel, Manhood in America, 236 and Johnson, The Lavender Scare.

40. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 236-237.

41. Ibid., 237.

42. “Hall Says ‘Pinks’ Guide Democrats,” New York Times, October 1, 1950, 82.

43. “Republicans Hail Policy Job Shifts; Senators Stress the Removal of ‘Members of Old Acheson Team’ in State Department,” New York Times, May 1, 1953, 10.

44. Representative Katherine St. George (R, NY) inserted R. G. Waldeck’s “Homosexual International” into the Cong. Rec., 82nd Cong., 2d sess., 1952, 98, pt. 10: A2652-A2654. To note, R. G. Waldeck was born Rosa Goldschmidt in Germany. She worked as a correspondent for Newsweek.

45. United Press, “384 Ousters Listed In State Department,” New York Times, November 6, 1953. The article suggests that homosexuals were “particularly open to such blackmail.” See also, Harry Schwartz, “How Communists Win converts; Not All Defectors From Free World Are Brainwashed,” New York Times, March 6, 1955, E5. and “126 Perverts Discharged; State Department Reports Total Ousted Since Jan. 1, 1951,” New York Times, March 26, 1952, 25.

46. Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead (Indianapolis, I.N.: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1943); The Fountainhead, directed by King Vidor, Warner Bros, 1949; Kimmel, Manhood in America, 238-239.

47. David Riesman, Nathan Glazer, and Raul Denney, The Lonely Crowd: A Study of the Changing American Character, abr. ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974), 8, 15-17, 126, 18, 209. It should be noted that Riesman does not argue that the “inner- directed” man rejects social tradition. Riesman argues instead that “he is very considerably bound by traditions: they limit his ends and inhibit his choice of means.” Riesman believes that a “splinter of tradition takes place” in which he is aware of a multitude of cultures.

48. Ibid, 20-21, 209, 21-22.

49. David M. Potter, “American Women and the American Character,” in American Character and Culture, ed. John A Hague (Deland, F.L.: Everett Edwards Press, Inc, 1964), 74-75. See also David M. Potter, “American Women and the American 51

Character,” Stetson University Bulletin 62 (January 1962): 1-6. For more of Potter’s analysis of 1950s American character see Potter, People of Plenty: Economic Abundance and the American Character (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958). See also James Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 50-51.

50. Gilbert, Men in the Middle, 46, 51, 46,

51. C. Wright Mills, White Collar: The American Middle Class (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951), ix, xi, xii.

52. Whyte Jr., The Organization Man, 3, 4, 16, 18, 22.

53. Kimmel, Manhood in America, 242.

54. Norman Mailer, “The White Negro,” Dissent magazine (Summer 1957), http://www.dissentmagazine.org/online.php?id=26 (accessed December 8, 2010). See also, Norman Mailer, The White Negro (San Francisco: City Light Books, 1957); Kimmel, Manhood in America, 242.

55. Arthur Schlesinger Jr., “The Crisis of American Masculinity,” in The Politics of Hope (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1963), 237-238, 242, 244.

56. Senator John F. Kennedy, and Allan Nevins, ed., The Strategy of Peace, ed. Allan Nevins (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), 201. See also Robert D. Dean, “Masculinity as Ideology: John F. Kennedy and the Domestic Politics of Foreign Policy,” Diplomatic History 22, no. 1 (Winter 1998): 29.

57. Senator John F. Kennedy, “We Must Climb To The Hilltop,” Freedom of Communications: Final Report of the Committee On Commerce, United States Senate, Part 3, The Joint Appearances of Senator John F. Kennedy and Vice President Richard M. Nixon and Other 1960 Campaign Presentations, (Washington, D.C., 1961), 406-410, 406, 409. See also, Senator John F. Kennedy, “We Must Climb to the Hilltop,” Life, August 22, 1960, 70B.

58. Ibid.

59. Vice President Richard M. Nixon, “Our Resolve Is Running Strong,” The Joint Appearances of Senator John F. Kennedy and Vice President Richard M. Nixon and Other 1960 Campaign, 411-418, 415. See also, Vice President Richard M. Nixon, “Our Resolve is Running Strong,” Life, August 29, 1960, 88.

60. Richard M. Nixon, “A Special Message To Today’s Youth,” The Joint Appearances of Senator John F. Kennedy and Vice President Richard M. Nixon and Other 1960 Campaign, 606-607, 607. See also, Optimistic Magazine, November, 1960, 18-19, 19.

52

61. Andre Fontaine, “Are We Staking Our Future on a Crop of Sissies?” Better Homes and Gardens, December 1950, 154,156, 159. The article is also used in Kimmel, Manhood in America, 243 and May, Homeward Bound, 147.

62. Ernest Havemann, “The Emptiness of Too Much Leisure, Part 1” Life, February 14, 1964, 76-90, 76.

63. John F. Kennedy, “General Science: Candidates on Science—The Presidential Candidates Give Their Views on Science and Technology,” The Joint Appearances of Senator John F. Kennedy and Vice President Richard M. Nixon and Other 1960 Campaign, 404-405, 405. See also Science News Letter, 6 August 1960, 93.

64. Ernest Havemann, “The Emptiness of Too Much Leisure,” 84-85.

65. Ernest Havemann, “The Task Ahead: How to Take Life Easy,” Life, February 21, 1964, 84-94, 91, 92.

66. “The Point of No Return for Everybody,” Life, July 19, 1963, 68A-68B.

67. Keith Wheeler, “Big Labor Hunts for the Hard Answers,” Life, July 19, 1963, 73-88, 81.

68. “Lindbergh Says Man Must Balance Science,” New York Times, December 18, 1949, 1, 53.

69. Ibid., 53.

70. David T. Courtwright, “The Routine Stuff: How Flying became a Form of Mass Transportation,” in Reconsidering a Century of Flight, ed. Roger D. Launius & Janet R. Daly Bednarek (Chapel Hill, N.C.: The University of North Carolina Press, 2003), 214.

71. Alan D. Meyer, “Why Fly?: A Social and Cultural History of Private Aviation in Post-World War II America: 1945-1985” (PhD diss., University of Delaware, 2009), 3. “The Fortunes of War,” Time, December 14, 1942, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,774143,00.html (accessed December 20, 2011); Cessna Aircraft Company, advertisement, Flying, July 5, 1943, 67; and Cessna Aircraft Company, advertisement, Time, February 1952, 68.

72. Meyer, “Why Fly?” 2. Meyer’s dissertation also highlights the failed post-WWII predictions of Cessna.

73. Piper Cub, advertisement, Life, August 13, 1945, 14.

74. Stinson, advertisement, Life, November, 17, 1947,155.

53

75. Piper, advertisement, Time, March 26, 1965, 84.

76. Various American Airline Companies, advertisement, Colliers, January 19, 1946, 9.

77. Curtiss-Wright, advertisement, New York Times, January 2, 1947,43.

78. This American Airlines advertisement can be found in Life, July 8, 1946, vol. 21, no. 2, pg. 93.

79. Various American Airlines, “The Scheduled Airlines of the United States,” advertisement, Colliers, November 1, 1947, 79.

80. Douglas Super DC-3, advertisement, Saturday Evening Post, July 23, 1949, 74.

81. American Airlines, advertisement, Colliers, November 15, 1947, 83.

82. American Airlines, advertisement, Colliers, December 20, 1947, 92.

83. TWA, advertisement, Time, April 4, 1948.

84. TWA, advertisement, Colliers, November 22, 1947, 59.

85. Martine Aircraft, Colliers, “Time!...Time!...Time!” advertisement, November 8, 1947, 59.

86. TWA, advertisement, Colliers, November 8, 1947, 66.

87. TWA, advertisement, Colliers, November 8, 1952, 7.

88. TWA Pilot Dan Cooney, System Administrator, “It’s really a holiday when you go by TWA,” advertisement, TWAPilot.Org, http://www.twapilot.org/images/Holiday%201953.jpg (accessed October 3, 2010).

89. TWA, Saturday Evening Post, August 6, 1949, 89.

90. Pilot Dan Cooney, System Administrator, TWAPilot .Org., “Grandma Leads a Fast Life and Loves It!” advertisement, http://www.twapilot.org/images/Grandma%20Leads%20a%20fast%20life%20and%20lo ves%20it.jpg (accessed October 10, 2010).

91. TWAPilot .Org., System Administrator, TWAPilot.Org, “Old folks at home,” advertisement, http://www.twapilot.org/images/Grandma.jpg (accessed October 3, 2010).

92. TWA Pilot Dan Cooney, System Administrator, TWAPilot.org, “Who Says, “It’s a Man’s World?” advertisement, 54

http://www.twapilot.org/images/Who%20says%20its%20a%20mans%20world.jpg (accessed October 4, 2010).

93. Boeing, advertisement, Saturday Evening Post, November, 2 1957, 93.

94. Douglas, advertisement, Saturday Evening Post, November 9, 1957, 89.

95. Douglas, advertisement, New York Times, January 18, 1963, 2.

96. Lufthansa German-Airlines, advertisement, New York Times, April 15, 1970, 27.

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CHAPTER III

“ZERO, FIRE, IGNITION!”: CREATING A CULT OF MASCULINITY IN

SPACEFLIGHT1

The father of science fiction, Jules Verne, argued a century before the Space Race that “The Yankees, the first-mechanicians [sic] in the world are engineers—just as the

Italians are musicians and the Germans metaphysicians—by right of birth.”2 Verne’s

statement did not appear accurate in the late 1950s. After the 4 October 1957 Soviet

launch of the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik 1, domestic and international opinion questioned the prowess of American engineering. Senator Lyndon Baines

Johnson asked Americans the following January: “What has been wrong? Why have we lagged? Why do we stand now in a posture of relative weakness?” In answering why the

Americans were behind the Soviets in space he told reporters:

First and foremost, I believe that we are paying too high a price for conformity…. America’s vigor has come from the originality, the freshness, the vision of our people, all our people, not merely an intellectual elite. For a decade now, we have seen growing a climate of contempt for these values. We are paying a price for that…. We have, for long, held a position of strength in world affairs. That position is no longer secure…. The Soviet has, dramatically, leaped over our wall.3 Johnson’s statement that the United States lagged behind the Soviets in space technology

due to “conformity” follows the arguments made in the previous chapter that the

masculinity crisis highlighted a fear of the loss of rugged individualism and control.

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Johnson’s comment linked the language of the Cold War masculinity crisis to the Space

Race.

Scholars have claimed that an “ideology of masculinity” surrounded the early

Cold War presidents.4 Journalist David Halberstam writes in his seminal The Best and the

Brightest (1972) that masculinity played a very influential role in the character of

Johnson. Halberstam argues that “He [Johnson] had always been haunted by the idea that

he would be judged as being insufficiently manly for the job, that he would lack courage

at a crucial moment.” Desperately wanting to appear masculine, Johnson divided the world into “men” and “boys.” In the president’s paradigm, Halberstam proposes, “Men were activists, doers who conquered business empires, who acted instead of talked, who made it in the world of other men and had the respect of other men. Boys, to Johnson, were different. They were not doers, but thinkers, talkers, and criticizers.”5

Johnson, according to other Cold War scholars, was not alone in his masculine

rhetoric. Johnson’s predecessor, President Kennedy, was certainly not lacking in masculine rhetoric. When Kennedy became president his friends and journalists touted

that he represented “the values of the masculine mystique…toward women, sexuality, and weakness in men.”6 William Chafe proposes in The Unfinished Journey that

Kennedy personified masculinity. He hated “those who were indecisive, equating their

fear of taking a strong stand with effeminacy.” Kennedy maintained that the best way to

make difficult decisions was to “calculate the odds, make a choice, and ‘grab our balls and go.’”7 Kennedy set the stage for a reinvigorated American masculinity when he

remarked during his 20 January 1961 presidential inauguration:

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival

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and success of liberty…. I do not shrink from this responsibility—I welcome it.8 The importance of masculine toughness continued into the dialogue of the Space Race.

Kennedy and Johnson, among many others, wanted to set the tone for the United States

as a country of doers, a real example of Cold War masculinity’s rugged individualism

and control. Performing masculinity appropriately was essential to the struggle over

conformity. In doing this, they helped create what became a cult of masculinity within

NASA and the masculinization of space. Through the use of war rhetoric, space and

spaceflight became a sphere exclusively for American men.

Robert A. Divine examines the American response to Sputnik in The Sputnik

Challenge (1993). According to Divine, the American government attempted to calm the

public. Officials asserted that not only did the satellite not “surprise the American

government,” but it also did not threaten American security. Divine suggests that the

American public held two dominant views regarding the satellite. Some saw the satellite

as a hope for future adventure and technology, seeing the flight as “toward the conquest

of space,” and “opening a bright new chapter in man’s conquest….” Others viewed the

Soviet achievement as “an ominous event in the Cold War.”9 The works of James L.

Kauffman, Howard E. McCurdy, Roger Launius, and Susan Landrum-Mangus have

demonstrated that space journalists and politicians stressed a return of the mythical

frontiersman as astronaut during the Space Race. Kauffman wrote that the language used within the rhetoric of the race spoke of the need to “explore” and “dominate.” According to Kauffman, Kennedy’s rhetoric created a world of “heroes” and “villains” in other words, he fashioned a narrative of a “heroic adventure story.”10

The following chapter argues that the same language used to combat the crisis of

masculinity can also be found in the early NASA narrative. The Space Race was not only

58

a great adventure or a test of American democracy. It was also a symbol of American rugged individualism and control, or Cold War masculinity. Adding to current scholarship on gender, the Cold War, and NASA, I argue that during the early years of

NASA, space journalists, politicians, and popular culture writers used masculine language such as “conquer” “explore,” “dominate,” “master[y],” “prestige,”

“aggressive,” “vigor,” “strength” and “war,” to justify American action in space. This language helped create space as a masculine sphere.

Projecting masculinity in space meant situating the Americans apart from the

Soviets. The Americans did not simply follow the Soviets. In June 1958, editor-in-chief of Aviation Week & Space Technology, Robert Hotz, wrote that “We must have the imagination to chart our own course and the courage to stick to it despite inevitable failures of early experiments and rising costs….”11 Space journalists, politicians, and

scientists meticulously pointed out any advantage that they had over the Soviets in space.

Their language depicted the need for Cold War masculinity in the new sphere of space.

The creation of the masculine sphere of space is important because this discourse later

influenced the public image the astronaut.12

As the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 1, Americans watched with awe.

According to media and congressional reports the 183.9 pound satellite had single- handedly led to a dramatic plummet in the international prestige of the United States. The

United States had been at logger-heads politically, ideologically, and culturally with the

Soviet Union since World War II. This cultural conflict led to the American creation of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) on 1 October, 1958. Before

NASA, the United States did not have an independent space exploration branch.

However, rockets had been on American minds since 1926 when Robert Goddard

59

successfully launched the first liquid-fueled rocket in Worcester, Massachusetts.13 The

German V2 rockets created even more excitement for the future military impact of the rocket. After World War II, various German scientists immigrated to the United States to build rockets for the U.S. military.14

In 1957, the United States was not ignorant to the science and technology of

satellites. In fact, in April 1955, the National Security Council (NSC) recommended to

President Dwight Eisenhower that he order the Secretary of Defense to “‘develop the capability of launching a small scientific satellite by 1958 under the auspices of the IGY

(International Geophysical Year).’” The President had three different programs to choose from. The Army, Navy, and Air Force were all working on rocket and satellite technology. Eisenhower appointed the Department of Defense’s Assistant Secretary for

Research and Development, and interim secretary of the Air Force, Donald A. Quarles, to head up a committee that decided the best satellite program to fund that did not interfere with “the development of military rocketry.” In the spring of 1955, Quarles convened an eight member civilian group known as the Advisory Group on Special Capabilities, or

Stewart Committee. Dr. Homer Stewart, physics professor at the University of California,

Los Angeles (UCLA), chaired the committee.15

The committee’s purpose was to choose the best rocket to launch the first

American artificial satellite. The Air Force’s program was the Atlas intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) motored rocket. The Navy’s was the Vanguard program’s Viking rocket. The Viking rocket had two additional stages of thrust. Under Dr. Wernher von

Braun, the Army had been working on the Redstone rocket. The Redstone booster had three additional stages of thrust. According to the official House hearings on the matter, the Stewart Committee was to pick the program that “‘will be the most certain of placing

60

the most useful satellite vehicle in orbit,…within the IGY and with the minimum interference to priority military programs.’” NASA historian Enid Curtis Bok Schoettle argues that due to the program’s declassified documents, the Stewart Committee picked

Viking. Declassified documents on the rocket made the program seem more peaceful to the international community. Schoettle proposes that the Viking program was also more economical. Overall, the vote was split, 5-2 with Dr. Stewart abstaining. The civilian scientists favored Vanguard’s scientific capabilities. But due to the expertise of von

Braun, the Army men preferred Redstone.16

Von Braun brooded over the committee’s decision as the Navy set to work

building a new Viking rocket.17 Von Braun was correct as in the case for advancement in satellite launches, the committee made a poor decision. In October 1957 the Soviets launched the first man-made “moon.” Papers reported that the satellite traveled at a rate of five miles per second, completing one orbit in approximately one hour and thirty-five minutes. According to the New York Times, the satellite flew 560 miles above the earth, at a speed of 18,000 miles per hour.18 The Eisenhower administration quickly announced

that no danger had taken place. In a national televised speech to the country, Eisenhower

attempted to calm Americans, stating, “‘So far as the satellite itself is concerned, that does not raise my apprehension, not one iota. But I wish we were further ahead [on our ballistic missiles program] and knew more.’”19 Eisenhower did not fear the “small ball”

and neither, he thought, should the American people. The president assured Americans

that the ability of the Russians to use the satellite for spying was “a long ways off.”

Eisenhower maintained that American scientists and engineers were busy building

rockets and satellites for space. He insisted that when the United States launched their

earth satellite, “if it operates successfully throughout, according to plan, it will provide

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much more information than this one can.”20 On 15 October, Eisenhower convened his

science advisory committee. Reminiscent of the language of the Cold War masculinity

crisis, famed U2 designer and Polaroid inventor, Edwin H. Land, suggested during the

meeting that Americans were losing the race for space because they had become “‘too lazy and complacent.’” He advised Eisenhower to “‘inspire the country—setting our youth particularly on a whole variety of scientific adventures.’” The president responded that in science, “he would ‘like to create a spirit—an attitude toward science similar to that held toward various kinds of athletics’ in his youth.”21

For purposes of national security Eisenhower had taken an interest in science.

Other Americans had not. Engineers and Scientists threw up their arms in fits of anger

over Americans’ lack of interest toward science. After Sputnik, the popular media and

politicians focused on the opinions of prominent engineers and scientists. Scientist

Edward Teller told Time magazine that with the launch of Sputnik “we have suffered

from a serious defeat.”22 University of Minnesota physicist, George R. Price, wrote a

scathing article in Life magazine in which he predicted a five stage Soviet takeover of the

world. Price demanded greater leaders in teaching, engineering, and science. Price fumed

that the U.S. was in desperate need of “blood, toil, tears, and sweat.” The former

Manhattan Project scientist lamented “We have frittered away 12 years while the

Communists world has been gaining on us, and the time is near when we must decide to

set a higher value upon liberty than on luxury.”23 Similar to Land, Price’s words echoed

the Cold War masculinity crisis’s fear of too much leisure. Prominent New York

businessman, Bernard Baruch, supported Price. He told the New York Herald Tribune on

16 October that Sputnik “is more than a satellite hurtling through space, more than a

warning of leadership jeopardized and security imperiled.” The small hurtling ball

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represented a “test of democracy.” He asked American citizens, “Do we meet this challenge—regain our leadership, assure our security? Do we discipline ourselves to protect our freedoms? If we do not, we will bear the far harsher disciplines which our enemies will impose on us.”24

Some Americans thought the Eisenhower administration’s peace talks on space

depicted American weakness. On 10 October 1957, Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., asked the

Soviet Union for peace talks on space. At a meeting before the United Nations General

Assembly in October 1957, Soviet Foreign Minister, Andrei A. Gromyko, followed along

similar lines. He called upon the governments of “the United States, Britain, and France to accept an honest and mutually acceptable agreement” regarding the conquest of space.

Reporter Thomas J. Hamilton depicted Foreign Minister Gromyko’s delivery as one of the “toughest speeches” given by any Soviet spokesperson. In regard to disarmament,

Gromyko claimed Western deception. He boldly declared, “It is time to put trickery aside in the talks, and to stop making a good face when the game is lost.”25 The Soviet Union

threatened to stall the five month disarmament talks. They also pledged a future stake in

the moon. Americans feared that one day the Soviets and communism might rule the

universe. Reports of “Moon Trip in a Day,” spurred attacks on both Republicans and the

American educational system.26

Space journalists, politicians, and scientists continued to profess Soviet space

supremacy, suggesting “World Seen Reaching a Balance of Terror; Soviet Achievements

in Sciences Expected to Have Wider Effect among Neutralist Nations.” Thomas J.

Hamilton drew upon fears of “U.S. Loses Control,” as the launch of Sputnik

demonstrated the superiority of Soviet rocket strength. Reporters suggested that the

Soviets would never “compromise” in space, forcing the United States to “make

63

concessions” to the communists.27 In a showing of Western unity, Queen Elizabeth II and

Prime Minister Harold MacMillan visited Eisenhower in Washington for talks. All agreed that the West and the Soviet Union were heatedly engaged in a “struggle of ideologies.”28

As the Western allies of Britain and the United States appeared to be united, the

Democratic Party hounded the Eisenhower administration, blaming the president “for

putting economy ahead of security.”29

The Soviet Union launched their second satellite, Sputnik II, on 3 November

1957. It orbited with the world’s first space traveler, a female mutt named Laika.30 The

New York Times published a selection of political cartoons after the launch. One from

East Germany depicted the moon asking the satellite: “What carried you up so high?” to which the satellite replied, “Socialism!”31 As the doomed Laika orbited the earth,

Londoners of the National Canine Defense League protested at the Soviet Embassy. A

protestor explained that “What horror is induced in the mind of the dog can never be

known: just as no explanation of the purpose of the journey can be made to her.”32 The

New York Times touted that while the horrific flight of a defenseless dog marked a loss of

cultural prestige to the Soviet Union; the United States was different. The Times

underscored that the United States “Also Has Used Animals in Rocket Flight—and They

Survived.”33 The caption included a picture of rats inside a 1952 rocket at Wright Air

Development Center in Dayton, Ohio. The article made no mention of any other animals used in test launches. Since 1948 the Americans had been testing monkeys in rocket flight. On 11 June 1948, the United States launched the Rhesus monkey “Albert” aboard a V2. After the rocket plummeted toward the Earth, Albert suffocated and his lifeless

body was brutally crushed.34

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After Sputnik II von Braun reported to media outlets that it would take five years for the United States to catch up to the Russians.35 The New York Times called the

Sputnik age a “vindication” for the “egghead” while Khrushchev boasted “‘These

achievements of the land of socialism, which mark a new epoch in the development in

science and technology, have literally conquered the whole world.””36 Eisenhower

responded again by going on television and radio and calming Americans’ fears. In his 7

November speech he extended his congratulations to Soviet scientists. He reassured

Americans that the Soviet earth satellites “in themselves, have no direct present effect upon the nation’s security.”37 Eisenhower answered the Soviet shot with the appointment

of Dr. James Killian, president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T.), to

put together a committee of scientists to advise the president of the United States. The

goal was to use space for peace. The group headed by Killian became the President’s

Science Advisory Committee (PSAC).38

On 6 December 1957, to gain control of space, the United States hastily attempted

to launch the Navy’s Vanguard satellite. After the launch, the rocket hovered for a couple

of moments a few feet above the pad and then erupted into flames. While the four pound,

softball sized satellite was thrown from the rocket, it managed to survive. Vanguard

deputy director, J. Paul Walsh, reported that despite the blunder, the small satellite was

still working.39 The Yuma Daily Sun described the launch as a “Flop,” and suggested that

“America’s allies around the world were openly dismayed over the abortive attempt

Friday by scientists at Cape Canaveral to put a test moon into space.” The Chicago

Tribune reported that London’s Laborite Daily Herald had christened the American

satellite, “Flopnik.”40 New York Times space journalist, John W. Finney, claimed that not

only was the failure as devastating as Pearl Harbor, but across the globe the launch also

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created, “a self-inflicted body blow. In Paris cafes, German beer gardens and Arabian

bazaars, the U.S. satellite program has become a laughing stock and the brunt of pointed

quips.”41 Senator Johnson announced, “I shrink a little inside of me whenever the United

States announces a great event—and it blows up in our face.”42 One observer lamented in

the Times, “Pearl Harbor came a day early this year.”43

A few days later, Dr. Andrew C. Ivy, professor of physiology and head of the

Department of Clinical Sciences at the University of Illinois’s Medical School, echoed the language of the Cold War masculinity crisis. He suggested that between these two ideological groups attempting to control space, the Kremlin “alerted many leaders to the growing smugness, softness, and manana [tomorrow] attitude in our country.” While not

“glamorous,” Ivy argued, Americans needed to dedicate themselves to the “rough and a stern taskmaster” of the “hard sciences.” Within the “hard sciences” of chemistry and aerospace engineering, one could find the “toughest research ever attempted by man.”44

American journalists feared the triumph of communism, conformity, and automation. In December 1957, the Wall Street Journal asked its readers, “In a race

between two governmental colossi, trying to conquer space…will the ‘luxuries’ of

political freedom survive? Will individualism be deemed expendable? Is the yoke of

regimentation to be one of the sacrifices we hear we will be called upon to bear?”45

Dorothy Thompson of the Washington Evening Star summed up the American reaction to

the Sputniks as not an embrace of the technological and scientific achievement of the

Soviets during the first IGY, but rather, as

a lead in the most terrifying and (ingenious) of weapons: the intercontinental [ballistic] missile. The picture immediately projected in our minds was of great regions of the world being destroyed without warning at the push of a few buttons. So again the grandeur of the achievement was

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eclipsed by fear, and an intensification of efforts to create bigger and better war instruments.46 Using the same language that one would use to describe an unstable woman in the 1950s,

a 19 January 1958 editorial feminized the United States, implying that the “creeping hysteria” of Sputnik would lead to Washington’s “taking the lid off the national debt and unbalancing the budget in an orgy of all-out spending in the race to capture outer space….we cannot,” insisted the editorial, “support an emotional and unstable approach to our problems of defense.”47

There were also new and unusual reactions to the launch. For instance, a

restaurant in Atlanta, Georgia, created a “Sputnikburger.” The hamburger featured

Czarist Russian dressing, caviar, “topped with a large ‘satellite olive’ pierced with three

toothpicks for an ‘antenna.’ Atop the toothpicks rested a small ‘cocktail hotdog.’”48

Restaurants and patrons across the country embraced the new Sputnik martini. To make

the drink, the bartender froze either gin or vodka to twenty degrees below zero, and then put the drink into a glass with vermouth.49 The music industry capitalized on the mania.

Some Americans performed the Equadors’s “Sputnik Dance” or David Carr Glover’s

“Go! Sputnik Boogie.”50 Songs such as “Sputniks and Mutniks” by Ray Anderson and

the Homefolks (1958) graced the American top 40. The band sang: “Sputniks and

Mutniks flying through the air, Sputniks and Mutniks flying everywhere, They’re so

ironic, Are they atomic?, Those funny missiles have got me scared.” The song continued

to play on American panic over the satellites by suggesting that “Our scientists have

admitted that we’re five years behind, And if that’s true, I’m telling you, this hiding place

is mine, Don’t care if it’s roomy, just so it’s roomy [sic], And so it’s somewhere Sputnik

can’t find.”51

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As Americans grooved to Sputnik, the Space Race heated up. The dominant theme of the race remained predominantly one of defense and national security. The focus on defense and national security helped create space as a masculine sphere. On the eve of the launch of Explorer 1, the men at Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) telephoned von Braun.

To launch the satellite, they instructed von Braun to use a Juno 1 rocket instead of the intended Jupiter-C. NASA historian Michael Neufeld argues that the decision to change the rocket from the Roman God to the Roman Queen was to make the rocket seem more

“peaceable.”52

On the evening of 31 January, aboard a sixty-eight foot “Jupiter-C” rocket, the

United States launched its first satellite, Explorer 1, into space.53 The satellite weighed

roughly eighteen pounds. It measured eighty-inches long and six inches in diameter. The

media reported that “the launching appeared perfect.”54 The satellite traveled at a speed

of 18,000 miles an hour. It took 114 minutes for Explorer 1 to orbit the earth.55 Despite

the satellite’s light weight when compared to Sputnik, the successful launch of Explorer 1

roused American pride.

American papers quickly pointed out the superiority of the American satellite.

Greeneville, Mississippi’s, The Delta Democrat-Times’ headlines proclaimed,

“‘Explorer,’ Launched by Jubilant Army Scientists, Swings around Earth above Russia’s

Sputnik.”56 Iowa’s Cedar Rapids Gazette insisted that the successful launch of Explorer

1 “ended a 17-week nightmare during which the two Soviet Sputniks seemed to mock the

United States and its partners.” The launch of Explorer 1 enthused American allies so

much that, coupled with the success of the British scientists “Zeta” (the name of the

contraption that completed the first controlled hydrogen fusion reaction in August 1957),

a NATO spokesman raved, “‘With Zeta and Explorer, we are one-up, aren’t we?’ ‘You

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might say the score is 2-to-1 in our favor at halftime.’”57 The New York Times reported

that “the American satellite reaches considerably greater altitude at its apogee than either of the Soviet Union’s satellites. The first Soviet device’s maximum altitude was 560 miles, the second’s 1,056 miles.”58 Papers reported the next day that Explorer reached a height of 1,700 miles.59 The press even reported that an unnamed British scientist

believed that the light weight of the satellite as compared to Sputnik I and II proved “the

United States had shown technical superiority by holding the weight of its satellite and

equipment to thirty pounds.” The article predicted that with the satellites light weight,

Americans would eventually send “small manned rockets to the moon.”60 In the public

discourse, the American launch was somehow better than the Soviets.

In April 1958, Eisenhower argued that the importance of space technology

depended on “future progress” and the “security of our nation.”61 In his article “Some

Need Kick in Perigee,” William Randolph Hearst Jr. exhorted: “Let’s get going, boys, let’s shoot that moon. First. [sic]”62 An anonymous author for the Wall Street Journal

editorial entitled, “An End to Hysteria?,” seemed relieved that all the “hullaballoo over the sputniks” was over.63 Von Braun appeared more serious about the launch. He told

reporters that “‘This is the beginning in the long-range program to conquer outer

space.’”64

American enthusiasm for Explorer was quickly tested. On 15 May 1958 the

Soviets launched another Sputnik into space. Reports surfaced that Khrushchev mocked

the size of the American satellites, comparing them to “oranges.” Khrushchev insisted

that the Soviet satellite was better because it weighed around one and a half tons.65 The

Soviet Premier lauded the new space feat as demonstrating that his communist country

“outstripped the United States in science and technology.”66 The media compared the

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weight of the new satellite to a “Studebaker Scotsman with a man in it.” The weight suggested the potential for Soviet manned spaceflight.

The satellite travelled to 1,168 miles above the Earth. The speed of the satellite surpassed all the previous satellites.67 Space journalist Finney reported that it would be at

least two years until the United States matched the size and strength of Sputnik III. The launch of the new satellite came at a terrible time for American prestige abroad. On a vice presidential visit to Latin America, a crowd of people in Caracas, Venezuela, hurled stones at Nixon. “Arabs” in Lebanon, and “Frenchmen” in Algiers burned American books. New York Times reporter Dana Adams Schmidt referred to these “communist- inspired outbreaks” as more than a misunderstanding of American foreign policy and its attitudes toward those of foreign nations. Schmidt suggested that “They were symptoms, too, of something wrong in the life of the American nation.”68

After the launch, Senate Democrats ridiculed the president’s space strategy. They called it “drift and dream” and “complacent.” Senator Stuart Symington (D-MO) went so far as to accuse Eisenhower of handing American “military superiority over to the

Communists.” Using similar rhetoric of the masculinity crisis, on the senate floor

Symington chastised the president. He declared that the government “place[ed] soft living

and budgetary considerations ahead of national security.’”69

Both political parties blamed each other for American loss of prestige to the

Soviets. In the summer of 1958, they passed through Congress the National Aeronautics

and Space Act. The Act officially created the National Aeronautics and Space

Administration on 29 July 1958. On 1 October 1958, the new organization went into

effect, integrating its predecessor, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

(NACA). As NASA’s first administrator, Eisenhower appointed Dr. T. Keith Glennan,

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president of Case Institute of Technology and member of the Atomic Energy

Commission. With its creation, NASA acquired the following research centers: Langley

(Hampton, V.A.), Lewis (Cleveland, O.H.), Ames (Moffet Field, C.A.), and Flight

Research (Edwards, C.A.). NASA obtained the space flight centers of Goddard Space

Flight Center (Greenbelt, M.D.), Jet Propulsion Lab (Pasadena, C.A.), and Wallop

Station (Wallopp Island, V.A.). By January 1961, the organization of NASA expanded greatly. Under its large bureaucratic umbrella, NASA controlled the George C. Marshall

Space Flight Center (Huntsville, A.L.), NASA Launch Operations Directorate (Cape

Canaveral, F.L.), and Manned Spacecraft Center (Houston, T.X.).

In December 1958, Glennan reassured NACA employees that their identity would not be lost within NASA. His rhetoric echoed the masculinity crisis. Speaking at a Texas banquet, Glennan stated to the crowd: “When a man has a job to do, he does it…He rolls up his shirt sleeves and his sweat helps him get the job done.”70 In space, American men would be doers. While the NACA and NASA were full of good American men, it was clear; the boys club of the NACA would become the new boys club of NASA.

On 13 September 1959, as Americans clamored to create NASA, the Soviets launched the first object onto the surface of the moon. Headlines read: “Soviet Rocket

Hits Moon after 35 Hours; Arrival is Calculated within 84 Seconds; Signals Received Till

Moment of Impact.” The object, Luna II, weighed 858.4 pounds. It smashed into the

moon at the speed of 7,500 miles an hour.71 The Soviets boasted that they achieved the

world’s first moon landing. They claimed to have planted a Soviet flag on the moon’s

surface. Quickly, the United States Congress objected to any recognition that the flag

gave the Soviet Union control over the moon.72 Hugh Dryden hailed the achievement:

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“We wish to congratulate our fellow scientists and engineers on their success in this forward step in the exploration of space.”73

Reports within the American scientific community fought back. “Russians’ Shot

‘Easy’ Compared to U.S. Proposal,” claimed West Virginia’s Charleston Gazette. The

article reported that a scientist, who wished to not reveal his identity, charged, “‘I don’t

mean to take anything away from the Russians. It certainly was a great achievement.

However, I think if we were given the same job, we would find it a lot easier than putting

a satellite about the moon.’”74 When interviewed, Nixon questioned the truthfulness of

the Soviet propaganda agency, the Telegraph Agency of the Soviet Union, (TAS). Nixon

told reporters that there was no need to get “hysterical.” Once again a politician

feminized the fear of the United States. He reassured the press that “Scientifically and educationally, we are way ahead of the Soviets, and there is no reason to junk our educational programs. In science, sometimes we’re ahead and sometimes they’re ahead,

but over-all, we are way ahead.”75

Media headlines and speeches were not the only mediums championing American

Cold War masculinity during the early years of the Space Race. As the race and NASA grew, so too did the field of rocketry, space science, aeronautics, and astronautics.

Advertisements and help wanted announcements reflected the highly masculinized fields of space technology during the early years of NASA. These advertisements reinforced

NASA as a symbol of Cold War masculinity. A flight director for the Apollo program,

Eugene “Gene” Kranz, became involved with NASA by responding to a “help wanted” advertisement in Aviation Week in 1960.76 For engineers, scientists, mathematicians,

pilots, and welders seeking to break into Cold War flight and space technology, Aviation

Week and Aero/Space Engineering were the go-to magazines for all things space. In the

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fields of space science and technology, Robert Hotz foresaw “an influx of younger and

technically bold personnel capable of generating the enthusiasm to spark this [NASA’s]

effort….”77 Even in pre-Sputnik advertisements, like the rhetoric of the Cold War

masculinity crisis; aerospace employers emphasized the importance of the individual.

Goodyear Aircraft touted their “respect for individual thought and effort.”78

Likewise, Avro Aircraft Limited advertised that their projects “gives engineering people

unexcelled opportunities to utilize individual ingenuity, initiative, imaginations, and creative qualities. …As members of a progressive design team, more concentrated job responsibility means more recognition for individual ideas and accomplishments.”79 The

electronics division of General Motors offered “challenging, pioneering opportunities for

ambitious men…. We may be able to supply the square hole for the square peg.”80

System Development Corporation (SDC), formerly of the Rand Corporation, advertised

for engineers who liked “The Element of Freedom.” SDC defined freedom as “doing

what you like.”81 Looking for a Thermodynamicist, General Electric (GE) advertised for

an “individual contributor.”82 In December 1960, Hayes Aircraft Corporation, supplier of

parts for the Army Ballistic Missile Agency at Redstone Arsenal, ran the headline:

“Missiles and Men.” Equally important to atomic energy, Hayes suggested, was “the human element—the skill of the men who make the machine…. It is a product of the minds of men.”83 Curtiss-Wright touted that their engineers “individual efforts and

accomplishments are quickly recognized.”84 Convair-Fort Worth marketed their company

as “Best individual effort…best combination of ideas” when asking for “well-trained men

with creative ability and inquiring minds are taking a close look at the advantages of

joining a team….”85

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The masculine sphere of flight quickly transferred to spaceflight in the post-

Sputnik era. Much like flight advertisements looked for individuals in control, spaceflight advertisements sought the same qualities in their workers. IBM (International Business

Machines) “Military Products” advertised that “Airborne [sic] computers challenged the

‘creative engineer’ but the engineers at IBM experience, ‘real time control.’86 An 18

November 1957 advertisement for Rohr Aircraft Corporation showed a man rolling up

his sleeve with the headline: “Big Job Ahead for Aircraft Engineers.”87 In December

1957, Goodyear Aircraft proposed that it was the job of their engineers to “Master the

mystic forces of the sky—that is the purpose and the plan of all Goodyear Aircraft

Engineers.”88 In February 1958, Pacific Automatic Products Inc., a missile engineering

contractor for the U.S. Navy, boasted that its staff of engineers “includes men with

outstanding experience in every phase of the missile business. It is no accident, therefore,

that we are the ‘take charge’ sort of people….”89 In a 1959 edition of Aviation Week, an

advertisement for a position in Honolulu called for “aggressive man for engine overhaul

shop.”90 General Electric, a contractor of NASA, advertised their April 1959 employment fair in Washington D.C. as “a group of men” working in new “Teams of Specialists” who are feverously working on “Man-Machine Relationships.”91 Rohr Aircraft Cooperation

advertised that in “In this short-sleeve climate of opportunity for seasoned engineers Rohr

needs men now….”92 Martin Orlando marketed their company as able to create “deadly”

missiles due to,

the gray matter…tons, if you could measure it…poured into the Bullpup by the men of Martin Orlando. Every day these men grab fistfuls of the future…engineer it, program it through computers,…. Working in the finest R&D and production facility…these men probe the limits in electronics….And we can always use more. Come…and bring your gray matter.93 74

The Aerospace Corporation wanted to build not only an Air Force-science-industry team,

but “the men of Aerospace marshal individual talents for the full exploration and

assessment of advanced concepts, selected for significant potential.”94

In 1962, Northrop asked, “If you share his itch for action, come to Northrop

where action is a way of life.” Fairchild Stratos Corporation built their company around

“Top-Grade Technical Talent.” The aircraft engineering organization professed to be part of a new “growing boldness and vision” holding true to cultivating “True technical excellence which comes from talented individuals and small elite groups rather than massive mediocrity.” The company offered “Recognition and reward of top individual contributors who are challenged and stimulated to truly professional creativity.” They wanted engineers who favored “Aggressive program direction, evaluation, and control.”95

While working at Northrop, you will be working with the engineer who “likes to get things done.”96 One of the very few advertisements asking for both “men” and “women”

was an IBM applied science advertisement. However, with the majority of firms

advertised to men. The aerospace field wanted rugged individual men in control. These

advertisements helped masculinize space around the superior characteristics of Cold War

masculinity.97

Lockheed-Georgia asked its applicants to “Tell us what you want.” They even

suggested they could “tailor a position to fit the requirements….”98 General

Dynamics/Astronautics wanted “men who are somehow not content with the status

quo.”99 Honeywell, an equal opportunity employer, announced that their “Engineers are

Doing [sic] Things in Florida.”100 Honeywell’s engineers were not lazy, complacent, or

enjoying leisure. They were exercising their masculinity as doers. Sikorsky Aircraft

promised its engineers “action-filled” days.101 International Electric Corporation,

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emphasized individuality and control by advertising that the “human decision-maker” and

“human effectiveness” counted most.102 Federal Electric Corporation offered world-wide assignments to its engineers and technicians complete with “individual challenge and adventure.”103 Martin Orlando wanted “Individuals with Inventive talents and a desire for

a challenging career….”104 Working in a “creative climate” as well as opportunities for personal “recognition” were themes displayed prominently in various advertisements in the 1950s and 1960s aerospace fields.105 One did not simply look for a “job” in the

aerospace industry. Rather, they were “assignments.” General Electric enticed readers to

“Act Now For Assignments On Project Apollo.”106 In 1965, Lockheed-Georgia praised

the “bold thinking” of their engineers.107

While references to teams of scientists and engineers continued into the late

1960s, the image of the individual did not disappear. The Navy asked readers if they were

tired of the “routine.” If so, they were looking for “youthful, innovative, aggressive man

who wants to tackle complex problems which need unconventional solutions” for their

new Naval Air Integrated Logistics Support Center.108 These advertisements did not just

want any man. Aerospace jobs wanted aggressive, rugged intellectual and creative

individuals who could work in a team but still maintain an individual identity. They

wanted their men to represent Cold War masculinity’s rugged individualism and control.

The masculine language found within the pages of Aviation Week and Aero/Space

Engineering mirrored the intense congressional debates over the funding for NASA. As the advertisements looked for men to protect the future of America, national security became a popular cry from congressional leaders justifying money for aerospace science.

The language used to help fund space conquest also helped masculinize space. Politicians

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did not only see the conquest of space as a military expedition. In militarizing space,

Americans aimed to project peace through strength in space.

Exercising strength in space symbolized Cold War masculinity’s rugged individualism and control. For instance, while giving the January 1958 convocation address at Nebraska Wesleyan University, Senator Carl T. Curtis (R-NE) advocated that within the American educational system the major goal “should never be by mass education—rather, it should be the education of each individual in our society.”

Protesting “assembly line” schools, he argued “Their individual gifts and talents must be found…. America is a land of individuals…capable of thinking for themselves,….We should never undervalue the individual…. The age of space is the age of the individual.”109 In a January 1958 speech before CBS affiliates, Senator Johnson urged

that in the journey for peace in space “we shall make it evident that America’s Free

World leadership is not sterile.”110

In May 1961, representative and chairman for the House Committee on Science

and Astronautics, Albert Brooks (D-LA) referred to the space program as one the United

States’ “strongest weapons” during the ideological “struggle” with the Soviet Union.111

James S. McDonell, president of the NASA contractor McDonnell Aircraft Corporation,

suggested that the Space Race was “‘the creative substitute for war.’”112 The masculine

rhetoric of control, war, and domination continued. Von Braun speculated that historians

and sociologists considered “that space exploration will in time become a substitute for war. They feel that the attempts to explore space may be the idealistic ‘moral equivalent of war,’ absorbing man’s over exuberant energies, aggressiveness, and imagination, and taxing his resources.”113

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The narrative of the Space Race was not only for war but also for peace. Before

Congress, Eisenhower recommended that “a civilian setting for the administration of space function will emphasize the concern of our Nation that space be devoted to peaceful and scientific purposes.” However, in his speech, the president emphasized the

“military potential of space.”114 General Bernard A. Schriever warned of the use of

ballistic missiles in space. “It cannot be dismissed as Buck Rogers fantasy. The whole

realm of space science and technology is the new arena in which we must mobilize vigorously….”115 In 1958, Johnson declared, “Space may well be the sea in which the

human race will some day find an island of peace. To reach that island, we need more weapons.” Johnson’s words suggested the need for Cold War masculinity in space. He stated, “Our greatest need in this hour is to unleash the pioneering spirit and the daring and brilliance of our people and set this Nation’s course on the pursuit of peace.” Johnson called for a “vigorous pursuit of peace.”116

Representative Chet E. Holifield (D-CA) lamented that the launch of the mighty

Sputniks forced Americans to play “‘follow the leader’ behind the Soviet Union.” For

forty-five minutes on the House floor, he championed “the goal of military strength—

strength which can be used if negotiations fail—strength to protect the freedom of our

own country and the strength to help our allies….” He lamented, “Have we lost the spirit,

the courage, and the will to be the center of world power, freedom, and culture?”

American men of science were “chafing at the bit. They are anxious to tackle to job. Will

the Congress accept the challenge and make the courageous decisions demanded now— today?”117

In 1961, Schriever echoed these sentiments. He suggested that “space power was

‘peace power.’” “‘Only by being strong,” Schriever demanded, “‘can we preserve the

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peace.’” Two years later, NASA’s Chief of Manned Spaceflight, George M. Low, remarked that the mission of NASA was to get “‘the most out of the space program both for national defense and for peaceful applications.’” The call for peace in space was not feminine. In fact, their calls for peace through strength invoked masculinity into the public image of the Space Race. In 1963, Representative H. R. Gross (R-IA) stated that in this Cold War climate with the Soviets “‘the new battlefield is space.’” While he was known to question space science over the military value of space technology, Senator

John Stennis (D-MS) announced during Congressional testimony in 1963, “‘I very strongly believe that there is a great military value to this space program.’” During the

1963 NASA authorization hearings, Olin Teague (D-TX) of the House Committee on

Science and Astronautics declared, “‘I can’t see how there can possibly be any doubt that there is a military mission in space.’”118 Space exploration as a need for strength through peace created a sense of urgency within congressional debates.

Representative James G. Fulton (R-PA) wanted American progress in space

“‘faster.’” He asked for “‘around the clock’” work. Representative Victor Anfuso (D-

NY) also demanded that NASA work faster and insisted on the accomplishment of “some

firsts.” Concerned congressional leaders feared that it would be difficult to sell NASA to

the public, especially considering the race appeared to be one specifically based upon prestige. Representative David S. King (D-UT) said he would support any budget for

NASA “regardless of the cost” that “would place America in ‘the race to reach the moon first.’”119 The rush can be seen in the fight for world power between the United States

and the Soviet Union. Whoever conquered the moon, claimed the U.S. News & World

Report, “to the winner will go new power in the world.”120 In 1962, Senator Warren G.

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Magnuson (D-WA) hoped: “I think it is a fair statement to say that we are getting into a position where we do not have to bow to anybody.”121

The Soviet Union saw the American drive into space differently. In the summer of

1962, the Soviet Union publicly admonished the “atom maniacs” of the United States.

They accused the Americans of trying “to obtain military superiority in space over the

Soviet Union.” In August 1962, the Soviet Union again charged the United States with

attempting to use space for war. They said the Americans were intentionally violating

Soviet “peace” efforts. They raged that “Across the ocean the enemies of peace incite war

hysteria and strive to convert cosmic space into an atomic testing area.”122 In the 29 May

1963 issue of the New Times, the Soviet Union likened American actions in space to a

“maniacal drive for war.” The Soviet Union professed that their space technology was for

“scientific progress and would serve peaceful purposes.”123 While the United States

government felt these charges absurd, the language of the Space Race as a military

exploit lent credence to the Soviets’ (who were also militarizing space) charges.

In the summer of 1963, Dr. Dryden addressed the American Legion convention in

Roanoke, Virginia. Using the language of American Cold War masculinity, he deftly

made a case to his audience that the science and technology of space exploration was

vital for national security. He admitted that the country had suffered a “blow to our

national pride” with the launch of Sputnik 1. However, he challenged the audience. He

espoused that the launch meant so much more to the safety and well-being of the United

States. He proposed that “our national security is inevitably involved in the progress of

the new science and technology of space.” The solution was a “vigorous” national space

program in order to “present the image of a can-do nation” to present and future allies.

Dryden demanded that “We must pursue knowledge vigorously, not for its own sake

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alone but also because knowledge is power….And we are determined that the United

States shall have that power.” In other words, to Dryden, the space program had become

“‘a matter of national necessity;’ for the world ‘has come to regard space exploits as a

measure of a nation’s strength,’ and ‘alliances and loyalty are given to the strong.’” He

reiterated the need to make “peace” in space. He concluded: “We must master this new

environment…to guard against the day when mastery of space might mean world

domination.” He challenged that “Some may believe that America may be able to survive as a second-rate power in space. I firmly believe, however, that passively accepting a secondary role is completely out of character with the traditions of this nation.”124

Representative Teague repeated the masculinized rhetoric of Dryden. Before

Congress he warned, “‘Our whole future as a nation—and, indeed, as a race—depends

upon our mastery of space….lunar exploration is essential to our leadership in the free world—in the so-called uncommitted world—and eventually, in the entire world.’”125 In

1960, Senator Kennedy delivered a telephone address in Miami to AMVETS (American

Veterans) in which he declared that the national motto should not be “Always Ready” but

“Always First.”126 With this Kennedy foresaw science as playing a special role in which

to impart not only American superiority in space, but also, American Cold War

masculinity. Dryden’s insistence on the need to “master” space “vigorously” before the

Soviets; the use of space as a tool for “world domination” and “power,” and finally,

Kennedy’s insistence on being “first” all pointed to the masculinization of space.

Conclusion Sputnik challenged Cold War masculinity. The power and prestige of the Soviet

Union, both militarily and culturally, threatened American prestige at home and abroad,

menacing American national security, and ridiculing the belief in the superiority of 81

American individuality. The use of military language to justify the need for Americans to go into space framed the race in masculine terms. This was combat. In Cold War culture, there was no room for women in combat. By depicting space exploration as a military purpose, journalists, media outlets, scientists, and politicians depicted an exclusive cult of masculinity within NASA and in space.

The United States used the Space Race as a symbol of a reinvigorated masculinity. The Space Race created a culture mesmerized by the power of science and technology. The men of the hour appeared to be scientists and engineers. Advertisements for the new aerospace industry wanted their scientist and engineers to represent American individuality and control. But as American men saddled up to ride rockets into space,

Americans asked: Who would fly? The answer to this question lay in the very use of

NASA as an image to impart American masculinity at home and abroad. To fly into space Americans looked to the best representative to master and control not only

American technology but space itself. Above all, in creating the masculine sphere of space, Americans wanted a flyer that represented rugged individualism and control. In other words, they wanted a person who represented the “epitome” of Cold War masculinity.127

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1 Michael D’Antonio, A Ball, a Dog, and a Monkey:1957—The Space Race Begins (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007), 119.

2. Jules Verne quote, Impact Series, “Space Quotes Folder 15766,” History Archives, National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Washington, D.C. Hereafter cited as NASA HQ.

3. Senator Lyndon Baines Johnson, address before a Meeting of CBS Affiliates, Washington, D.C., January 14, 1958, 85th Cong., 2d sess., Cong. Rec. 104, pt4: 4544- 4546. See also, Senator Lyndon Baines Johnson, address before the CBS Affiliates, Shoreham Hotel, Washington D.C., 85th Cong., 2d sess., Cong. Rec. 104, pt.1:606-608.

4. The “Ideology of Masculinity” was coined by Robert D. Dean in Imperial Brotherhood: Gender and the Making of Cold War Foreign Policy (Boston: University of Massachusetts Press, 2003), 5.

5. David Halberstam, The Best and Brightest, 3rd ed. (New York: Random House, 1972), 531.

6. Alexander DeConde, Presidential Machismo: Executive Authority, Military Intervention, and Foreign Relations (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2000), 173. See also, William H. Chafe, The Unfinished Journey: American Since World War II, 3rd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 180.

7. Chafe, The Unfinished Journey, 180.

8. John F. Kennedy, “Inaugural Address, January 20, 1961,” John F. Kennedy Library and Museum http://www.jfklibrary.org/Asset-Viewer/BqXIEM9F4024ntFl7SVAjA.aspx (accessed March 23, 2011); See also, John F. Kennedy, “Inaugural Address of John F. Kennedy, Friday, January 20, 1961,” Yale Law School Avalon Project, Documents in Law, History and Diplomacy, http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/kennedy.asp (accessed March 23, 2011).

9. Robert A. Divine, The Sputnik Challenge (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), xiv.

10. Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 5. See also, Linda T. Krug, Presidential Perspectives on Space Exploration: Guiding Metaphors from Eisenhower to Bush (New York: Praeger, 1991).

11. Robert Hotz, “Meeting The Challenge Of Space,” Aviation Week, June 16, 1958.

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12. The chapter defines vigor as “physical strength and good health. The dissertation purports that this word is highly masculinized as physical strength was an attributed culturally associated with men.” Oxford Dictionaries, “vigor,” Oxford Dictionaries Online, http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/vigor?region=us (accessed May 2, 2011).

13. David A. Clary, Rocket Man: Robert H. Goddard and the Birth of the Space Age (New York: Hyperion, 2004), 122. See also, The New York Times Company, Special Cable to the New York Times, “Plans Hop to Moon in a Rocket-Plane; Russian Mechanic Would Use Gas Explosions for Propulsion. Conceives Bus Line There Says He Will Start in September—Has Letter from Professor Goddard of Clark,” New York Times, May 8, 1927, 19, and Associated Press, “Plans Ocean Rocket Carrying Passengers; Professor Goddard Experiments on a New Method for Crossing the Atlantic at Terrific Speed,” New York Times, July 4, 1927.

14. Enid Curtis Bok Schoettle, “The Establishment of NASA,” in Knowledge and Power: Essays on Science and Government, ed. Sanford A. Lakoff (New York: The Free Press, 1966), 162-262. I use the term “immigrated” loosely. For information on Project Paperclip see Michael J. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer of Space/Engineer of War (New York: Vintage Books, A Division of Random House, 2007), 3, 219, 226, 230, 233, 251, 257, 264, 295, 324, 405, 449, 475.

15. Schoettle, “The Establishment of NASA,” 168.

16. Ibid., 169.

17. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer of Space/Engineer of War, 294-309.

18. For the weight of Sputnik see NASA History, “Sputnik: The Fiftieth Anniversary,” NASA http://history.nasa.gov/sputnik/ (accessed December 12, 2009); See also, “Reds Fire ‘Moon’ Into Sky,” Chicago Tribune, October 5, 1957, 1, 6, 1. See also, William J. Jordan, “Soviet Fires Earth Satellite Into Space; It Is Circling The Globe At 18,000 M.P.H.; Sphere Tracked In 4 Crossings Over U.S.; Visible With Simple Binoculars, Moscow Statement Says” New York Times, October 5, 1957, 1. Gardner I. Bridge, “Coded Signals Sent By Sphere; Earth Satellite Circles Globe Every 96.2 Minutes,” Times-Picayune, October 6, 1957, 1.

19. “Rocket Race: How to Catch Up?” New York Times, October 20, 1957, E3.

20. Official White House Transcript of President Eisenhower’s Press and Radio Conference #123 concerning the development by the U.S. of an earth satellite,” October 9, 1957, 1-9, 8, Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, “Sputnik and the Space Race,” http://www.eisenhower.archives.gov/research/digital_documents/Sputnik/10-9- 57.pdf (accessed February 3, 2011).

21. As quoted in Robert A. Divine, The Sputnik Challenge, 13. 84

22. Time, November 18, 1957. See also Divine, The Sputnik Challenge, 15.

23. George R. Price, “Arguing the Case for Being Panicky: Scientists Project Blackmail Steps by which Russia could Conquer Us,” Life, November 18, 1957, 125-128, 126. Price is also quoted in Divine, The Sputnik Challenge, 15-16.

24. Quote from Bernard Baruch, New York Herald Tribune, “NASA Historical Note No. 21: Statements of Prominent Americans on the Opening of the Space Age, A Chronology of Selected Documents October 4, 1957 to November 13, 1958. As cited from the NASA History Division http://www.benandjenniferlevasseur.com/Documents/nasa%20historical%20note%2021. pdf. See also T. Keith Glennan, “Wright Day Dinner, Sheraton-Park Hotel, Washington, D.C., December 17, 1958,” NASA, HQ Historical Reference Collection, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/40207.pdf (accessed January 10, 2010)

25. Thomas J. Hamilton, “U.S. Offers Plan for Space Peace,” New York Times, October 11, 1957, 1,4, 1. See also, Lindsey Parrott, “22 Nations Back U.S. On Space Plan,” New York Times, October 11, 1957, 1, 4.

26. “Moon Trip In Day Sought By Soviets,” New York Times, October 11, 1957, 3. See also, Benjamin Fine, “Satellite Called Spur To Education,” New York Times, October 11, 1957, 3.

27. Thomas J. Hamilton, “World Seen Reaching A Balance of Terror: Soviet Achievements in Sciences Expected to Have Wide Effect Among Neutralist Nations; U.S. Advantage Erased,” New York Times, October 13, 1957, E3.

28. “‘Sputnik Policy’; Challenges West,” New York Times, October 20, 1957, E3.

29. “Rocket Race: How to Catch Up?” New York Times, October 20, 1957, E3.

30. “Russia Hasn’t Rocket to Moon, Soviet Editor Declares,” Racine Journal-Times, November 5, 1957, 1-2, 1. Other versions of the dog’s name reported as spelled “Laika.” The English translation of the name is referred to as both “Barky” and “Barker.”

31. “The Russian Sputniks—As Communist Cartoonists See Them,” New York Times, November 10, 1957, E4.

32. Kennett Love, “Britons Protest Dog in Satellite,” New York Times, November 5, 1957, 12. For an excellent chapter on the Soviet use of animals in space see Amy Nelson, “Cold War Celebrity and the Courageous Canine Scout: The Life and Times of Soviet Space Dogs,” in Into the Cosmos: Space Exploration and Soviet Culture, ed. James T. Andrews and Asif A. Siddiqi (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2011), 133-155.

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33. “U.S. Also Has Used Animals in Rocket Flights—and They Survived,” New York Times, November 5, 1957, 12.

34. Air Force Missile Development Center (U.S.) “Part 1: The Beginnings of Research in Space Biology at the Air Force Missile Development Center, 1946-1952,” History of Research in Space Biology and Biodynamics at the U.S. Air Force Missile Development Center, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, 1946-1948 http://history.nasa.gov/afspbio/part1.htm (accessed July 19, 2011). For the entire work see http://history.nasa.gov/afspbio/top.htm, updated August 2004.

35. Associated Press, “Von Braun Says Five Years Are Needed To Catch Soviet: U.S. Missile Expert Urges A Long-Range Program to Conquer Space,” New York Times, November 10, 1957, 1, 36,1.

36. “U.S. Act to Answer Sputniks,” New York Times, November 10, 1957, E1.

37. Dwight D. Eisenhower, “Radio and Television Address to the American People on Science in National Security, November 7, 1957,” The American Presidency Project, http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=10946&st=&st1=#axzz1RuLbFY57 (accessed May 10, 2011).

38. “U.S. Act to Answer Sputniks,” E1; James R. Killian, “Science and Public Policy,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 15, no. 4, (April 1959): 169-172; and James R. Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1977).

39. Milton Bracker, “Vanguard Rocket Burns on Beach; Failure to Launch Test Satellite Assailed As Blow to U.S. Prestige,” New York Times, December 8, 1957, 1.

40. “What Flopnik! Britons Blare” Chicago Tribune, December 7, 1957, 4. Murray Brown (UPI), “Satellite Flop May Force Ike to Attend Conference,” Yuma Daily Sun, December 8, 1957, 1.

41. John W. Finney, “Vanguard Failure A Blow-And-Goad-To U.S.,” New York Times, December 8, 1957, E3.

42. “Demos Rap Flop of U.S. Satellite,” Lima (Ohio) News, December 8, 1957, 22.

43. “Capital Dismayed Attests Failure,” New York Times, December 8, 1957, 9.

44. Dr. Andrew C. Ivy, “Space Physiology—Physiological Man Versus His Technological Twin, January 16, 1958,” inserted by Honorable Roland V. Libonati, (D, IL), March 25, 1958, 85th Cong., Cong. Rec., 2d. sess, 104, part 4: A 2832-A2833.

45. “The Challenge of Change,” The Wall Street Journal, December 31, 1957. 86

46. Dorothy Thompson, “The Challenge of Outer Space: Joint Conquest, Not East-West Control, Held Best Hope of Gaining Cooperation,” Washington Evening Star, January 22, 1958.

47. “A Creeping Hysteria,” Sarasota Herald Tribune, January 19, 1958.

48. “The Sputnikburger,” The Racine Journal-Times, November 5,1957, 2.

49. Brainpower Forum: Conference Proceedings (San Francisco: International Science Foundation, 1958), 53.

50. The Equadors, “Sound Record, ‘Sputnik Dance,” Smithsonian National Museum of American History, http://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/object.cfm?key=35&objkey=5893 (accessed August 25, 2011) and David Carr Glover, “Go!, Sputnik Boogie” (1957), Conelrad Atomic Platters, Cold War Music from the Golden Age of Homeland Security, http://www.atomicplatters.com/platters.php?id=C0_10_1 (accessed August 25, 2011).

51. Ray Anderson and the Homefolks “Sputniks and Mutniks” (1958), National Public Radio (NPR), http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=14937486, and http://www.atomicplatters.com/more.php?id=72_0_1_60_M (accessed August 25, 2011).

52. Neufeld, Von Braun, 315.

53. Even though Neufeld’s book insists the rocket was to be a Juno 1, no mention of the rocket is reported in the media as being a Juno rocket. Media releases referred to the rocket as a Jupiter-C. See “Facts About Army’s Jupiter-C Rocket,” New York Times, February 1, 1958, 7A.

54. Milton Bracker, “Army Launches U.S. Satellite Into Orbit; President Promises World Will Get Data; 30 Pound Device is hurled Up 2,000 Miles,” New York Times, February 1, 1958, 1, 7B, 1. To note, the weight of the satellite itself was 18.13 pounds and the weight of the final stage of the rocket booster was 12.67 pounds, totaling 30.8 pounds. “Launching Described As Perfect,” Washington Post, February 1, 1958, 1.

55. John W. Finney, “Satellite Takes 114-Minute Orbit,” New York Times, February 1, 1958, 1, 7B.

56. Rutherford Poats, (UPI), The Delta Democrat Times, February 2, 1958, 1.

57. Howard Handleman (INS), “Explorer Lifts U.S. Prestige,” Cedar Rapids Gazette, February 2, 1958, 1.

58. Milton Bracker, “U.S. Satellite Circling Earth in Orbit With a Peak Altitude of About 2,000 Miles, Exceeds Height of Soviet Devices,” New York Times, February 1, 1958, 7B. 87

59. John W. Finney, “Explorer’s Top Height 1,700 Miles-Orbit Takes 2 Hours,” New York Times, February 2, 1958, 1.

60. UPI, “Explorer’s Lightness Hailed,” New York Times, February 2, 1958, 12.

61. John W. Finney, “U.S. Lags in Space Race 8 Months after Sputnik 1; U.S. Still Unsure on Race in Space,” New York Times, May 25, 1958, 26.

62. William Randolph Hearst, Jr., “Some Need a Kick in the Perigee,” Los Angeles Examiner, found in Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 104, Appendix pt2: A1699.

63. “An End to Hysteria?” Wall Street Journal, February 3, 1958.

64. “Nation Hails Satellite Launching; Nixon Sees Peace Policy Victory,” New York Times, February 1, 1958, 7A. 65. William J. Jorden, “Soviet Satellite Weighing 1.5 Tons Fired Into Orbit; Premier Rejoices; Khrushchev Gibes at American ‘Oranges’ Circling Earth,” New York Times, May 16, 1958, 1. Sputnik III weighed 2,925.53 pounds. The three satellites that the United States has in space are Explorer 1, Vanguard (launched 17 March 1958), and Explorer III launched March 26, 1958. Explorer II was launched on March 5, 1958, but the Jupiter-C’s fourth stage failed to ignite, and thus, the rocket never made it to orbit.

66. William J. Jorden, “Soviet Satellite Weighing 1.5 Tons Fired into Orbit; Premier Rejoices; Khrushchev Gibes at American ‘Oranges’ Circling Earth,” New York Times, May 16, 1958, 1.

67. “Sputnik III” New York Times, May 18, 1958, E2; Edward Gamarkian, “Man on Sputnik? Could Be,” The Washington Post, May 16, 1958, 10.

68. Dana Adams Schmidt, “Mounting U.S: Troubles: Why And What To Do,” New York Times, May 18, 1958, E3.

69. Russell Baker, “Symington Finds President Drifts,” New York Times, May 30, 1958, 9.

70. Dr. T. Keith Glennan, “The Challenge of the Space Age,” delivered at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration Annual Banquet, Fort Worth Chamber of Commerce, Fort Worth Texas, 8 December 1958. NASA HQ Historical Reference Collection, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/40206.pdf (accessed January 10, 2010).

71. “Soviet Rocket Hits Moon After 35 Hours; Arrival Is Calculated Within 84 Seconds; Signals Received Till Moment of Impact,” New York Times, September 14, 1959, 1.

88

72. Peter Kriss, “U.S. Rejects Any Flag-Planting As Legal Claim to Rule Moon,” New York Times, September 14, 1959, 1, 16.

73. Moscow (AP) “World Acclaims Russian Science for Moon Landing,” Morgantown Post, September 14, 1959, 1.

74. Associated Press, “Russians’ Shot Easy Compared to U.S. Proposal,” Charleston Gazette, September 14, 1959, 1,

75. “World Acclaims Russian Science for Moon Landing,”1.

76. Glen E. Swanson, “Before This Decade Is Out…”: Personal Reflections on the Apollo Program (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4223, 1999), 119.

77. Hotz, “Meeting the Challenge Of Space” Aviation Week.

78. Goodyear Aircraft, advertisement, Aviation Week, October 1, 1956, 107.

79. Avro Aircraft Limited, advertisement, Aviation Week, December 3, 1956, 118.

80. General Motors Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week, October 1, 1956, 106.

81. System Development Corporation, An Independent nonprofit Organization, formerly a division of the Rand Corporation, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, June 1958, 102.

82. General Electric, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, June 1958, 128.

83. Hayes Aircraft Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week, December 3, 1956, 7.

84. Curtiss-Wright Advertisement, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, July 1958, 87.

85. Convair-Fort Worth, a Division of General Dynamics, advertisement, Aviation Week; including Space Technology, April 20, 1959, 118.

86. IBM Military Products, advertisement, Aviation Week, November 11, 1957, 124.

87. Rohr Aircraft Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week, November 18, 1957, 122.

88. Goodyear Aircraft, advertisement, Aviation Week, December 30, 1957, 120. (February 24, 1958 officially adds “including space technology).

89. Pacific Automation Products Inc., advertisement, Aviation Week, February 17, 1958, 61. 89

90. Murrayair Ltd., Honolulu Airport, Honolulu, Hawaii, “Position Vacancy” Aviation Week; including Space Technology, April 6, 1959, 134.

91. General Electric, advertisement, Aviation Week; including Space Technology, April 6, 1959, 135.

92. Rohr Aircraft Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week; including Space Technology, April 13, 1959, 158.

93. Martin Orlando, advertisement, Aviation Week: including Space Technology, April 20, 1959, 120.

94. Aerospace Corporation, advertisement, Aerospace Engineering, January 1962, 79.

95. Fairchild Stratos, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, March 1962, 86.

96. Northrop, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, March 1962, 84.

97. IBM, advertisement, Aviation Week; including Space Technology, April 20, 1959, 119.

98. Lockheed-Georgia Company, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, March 1962, 93.

99. General Dynamics/Astronautics, advertisement, Aero/Space Engineering, May 1962, 65-66.

100. Honeywell, advertisement, Aviation and Space Technology, April 29, 1963, 98.

101. Sikorsky Aircraft, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, April 29, 1963, 108.

102. ITT, International Electric Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, May 13, 1963, 124.

103. ITT, Federal Electric Corporation, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 90.

104. Martin Orland, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 93.

105. Lockheed, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 88. See also, Chrysler Corporation, Space Division, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 100; AVCO, Research and Advanced Development, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 101. 90

106. General Electric, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 3, 1963, 102.

107. Lockheed-Georgia, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, June 21, 1965, 86.

108. United States Navy, advertisement, Aviation Week and Space Technology, July 14, 1969, 104.

109. Senator Curtis of Nebraska, Convocation address at Nebraska Wesleyan University, “The Individual In The Age of Space, January 20, 1958,” inserted by Senator Roman L. Hruska (R, NE), Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 104, pt. 4: 1797-1798.

110. Senator Lyndon Baines Johnson, addresses a meeting of CBS affiliates, January 14, 1958, Washington, D.C., Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d. sess., 104, pt. 4: 4545.

111. Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 120.

112. Monsanto Chemical Company, advertisement, Aviation Week: including Space Technology, April 13, 1959, 83.

113. Dr. Wernher Von Braun, “Launch Vehicles and Launch Operations,” Presentation at Second National Conference on the Peaceful Uses of Space, Opera House, Seattle, Washington, May 9, 1962, 1-22, 22. NASA HQ Historical Reference Collection, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/42553.pdf (accessed January 12, 2010) See also, Dr. Werner [sic] Von Braun, Director, Marshall Space Flight Center, addressing the Second National Conference on the Peaceful Uses of Space, Seattle, May 9, 1962, folder 15767, NASA HQ.

114. President Eisenhower, “National Aeronautics And Space Agency—Message From The President Of The United States, Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess. 1958, 104, pt. 5: 6131.

115. General Bernard A. Schriever, Commander, Air Force Ballistic Missile Division, Air Research and Development Command, “Missiles, Space, and Survival,” Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 104, pt: A1060.

116. Address By Senator Lyndon B. Johnson, of Texas, Before A Meeting Of CBS Affiliates, Washington, D.C., January 14, 1958,” Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 104, pt. 4: 4545.

117. Representative Chester E. Holifield, “Meeting The Soviet Challenge, January 16, 1958,” Cong. Rec., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 104, pt. 1: 641-643.

118. Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 23, 100, 101, 99. 91

119. Ibid., 95-97.

120. U.S. News & World Report, vol. 53, October 1, 1962, 69.

121. Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications, 89th Cong., 2d sess., 1966 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 85.

122. Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications, 49. This quote is direct against the efforts of the United States to conduct high altitude nuclear tests in the summer 1962. To note, the United States also viewed the Soviet drive into space in the same way. See, Staff Report, Prepared for the Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, United States Senate, Documents On International Aspects Of The Exploration And Use Of Outer Space, 1954-1962 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1962).

123. New Times quote can be found in Ibid., 49. This is again Soviet propaganda. The Soviet Union was very interested in militarizing space. See Siddiqi, Sputnik and the Soviet Space Challenge; and Challenge to Apollo.

124. NASA News Release, July 27, 1963, “Speech by Hugh L. Dryden, Deputy Administer, NASA to the District Convention of the American Legion, Department of Virginia, Roanoke, Virginia, July 27, 1963, 1-8” NASA HQ Historical Reference, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/41890.pdf (accessed January 12, 2010).

125. Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications, 106.

126. John F. Kennedy, “Text of Telephone Address by Senator John F. Kennedy to AMVET Convention, Miami Beach FLA., August 26, 1960,” Freedom of Communications: Final Report of the Committee on Commerce, United States Senate, Part 1, The Speeches, Remarks, Press Conferences, and Statements of Senator John F. Kennedy, August 1 Through November 7, 1960 (Washington, 1961), 54-55, 55.

127. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 180.

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CHAPTER IV

“LIGHT THIS CANDLE!:” COLD WAR MASCULINITY AND PROJECT

MERCURY, 1958-19631

On 5 May 1961, NASA launched its first astronaut, Alan Shepard Jr., into space aboard the Mercury capsule Freedom 7. The feat came less than a month after the Soviets blasted cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin into orbit on 12 April 1961. Aboard his capsule, Vostok

I, Gagarin spent a total of one hundred and eight minutes in space. He orbited the earth once. Shepard’s flight lasted around fifteen minutes, about five of which were actually in space. He did not orbit the earth but rather completed a suborbital flight. However,

Americans lauded Shepard’s feat as more impressive than Gagarin’s because unlike

Gagarin, magazines, newspapers, administrators, and politicians reported that Shepard exercised control over his capsule. Even Shepard recalled in his memoir, Moon Shot: The

Inside Story of America’s Race to the Moon (1994), that while shifting his capsule he shouted out, “we’re doing something in space on our own. We’re first with it! Manual control of a spaceship. Dyn-o-mite!”2

After the launch of Sputnik I, the most difficult question before NASA was who would fly into space. In 1952, Dr. Wernher von Braun suggested in Colliers, “Here is how we shall go to the moon. The pioneer expedition, fifty scientists and technicians, will take off from the space station’s orbit in three clumsy-looking but highly efficient rocket ships.”3 In 1958, President Eisenhower dismissed von Braun’s suggestion. Former WWII general, pilot, and hero of the Pacific, Dr. James Doolittle, echoed von Braun’s scheme

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on a smaller scale. During the 1958 NASA Act senatorial debates, Doolittle suggested

that the ideal space traveler would be a scientist.4 He too was dismissed. While both men,

one civilian and one military, envisioned space travel for scientific purposes, the militarization of space encouraged the projection of strength. Americans turned to a

familiar image that represented technical know-how, rugged individualism, and control.

In essence, Americans looked not to the scientists or the engineer, but to the military jet

test pilot as their cultural agent in space.5 The following chapter traces the creation of the

masculine public image of the early American astronaut. The chapter places the image of the Project Mercury astronauts within the context of the Cold War masculinity crisis.

Through the astronauts’ ability to fly their capsules into space, the American print media, politicians, and astronauts emphasized the masculinity of the astronaut.

As post World War II writers, American intellectuals, sociologists, and politicians asserted that the Cold War era ushered in an impending crisis of masculinity, leading space journalists, administrators, and politicians constructed the astronaut image as representing the ideal traits of American men. Americans could not simply follow the achievements of the communists. Americans did not follow those who cherished the collective over individuality. Soviet cosmonauts represented heroes of Soviet conformity.

The Cold War pioneer, the astronaut, had to be an individual. He had to have control.

Space journalists, politicians, and even NASA presented the idea that the American’s conducted their space ventures apart from the Soviet accomplishments. In April 1961,

NASA director James Webb told the public, “‘This [present] program is not designed to match what the Russians may do.’”6 Instead, space journalists, politicians, and even

NASA administrators designed the American space program as an administration that

created its own “firsts” in space. Unlike the Soviet cosmonaut passengers, the American

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space flyers were to have control of their capsule. While President Eisenhower

deliberately chose jet test pilots for their discipline and physical and mental toughness,

the public, including NASA, the print media, Congress, and average Americans, used the

jet test pilot symbol as having the potential for American space flyers to fly their

capsule.7 The American astronaut could potentially control his craft.

Leading and regional newspapers, magazines, politicians, astronauts and at times

NASA administrators clamored after this symbol of American control. In 1961, NASA

deputy administrator, Hugh Dryden, told the House Committee on Science and

Astronautics that “‘putting a man on the moon was not very significant.’” However, the national effort to put him (a man) on the moon was indispensable to the country’s image.

Dryden explained, “‘This is a symbol.’”8 Furthermore, in May 1963, Webb told a

National Conference on the Peaceful Uses of Space that science and technology “have become a symbol to hundreds of millions of people around the world of the vitality of any nation.”9 To project manned spaceflight as a symbol of the vitality of the United

States, the public narrative of the astronaut remained steadfast to astronaut control of the

capsule.

The purpose of NASA’s Project Mercury was to orbit a manned space craft

around earth, investigate man’s ability to function in space, and recover both man and spacecraft safely.10 By the time of its conclusion, Mercury had made six launches and

landings between the years 1961 and 1963. The Mercury 7 astronauts were the hallmark

of the manned spaceflight program. Their public image was important. NASA appointed

an industrial psychologist, Robert B. Voas, a naval lieutenant, as the astronaut’s trainer.

Voas’s main job was to make sure the astronauts remained calm, cool, and collected. In

The Right Stuff (1979), Tom Wolfe described Voas’s job as to prepare the astronauts for

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psychological adaptation during spaceflight.11 This calm mental state under pressure

represented Cold War masculinity.

However, NASA did not limit Voas’s responsibilities to the psychology of the

astronaut. Voas also worked as one of NASA’s manned spaceflight designers. In this

capacity, Joseph Atkinson Jr. and Jay Shafritz argue in The Real Stuff: A History of

NASA’s Astronaut Recruitment Program (1985) that Voas recognized the need for astronaut control. Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz contend that Voas compiled a list of major tasks the astronaut was to deal with in an attempt to highlight the astronaut’s control of the capsule. Voas first identified sequence monitoring. Here the astronaut monitored the stages of the mission such as the staging of the boosters, the separation of the escape tower, the firing of the retrorockets, and the deployment of the parachute. The astronauts also held the responsibility over systems management. The astronaut monitored all the onboard systems for any machine failures. The third job Voas located was the astronaut’s control of the capsule’s attitude. Controlling the attitude meant controlling the relationship between the earth and the capsule. Finally the astronaut researched and evaluated the capsule during flight conditions.12

Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz write that on 3 November 1958, an aeromedical team

consisting of Drs. Stanley C. White, William S. Augerson, and Voas discussed the

attributes they wanted in an astronaut. According to Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz, the team

concluded the following five points: the astronaut needed to survive, perform, serve as a

backup for the automatic controls and instrumentations, and finally, act as a competent

scientific observer and engineer.13 By 22 December 1958, NASA released its first job announcement for an “astronaut-candidate” called NASA Project A. The announcement read:

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Although the entire satellite operation will be possible, in the early phases, without the presence of man, the astronaut will play an important role during the flight. He will contribute by monitoring the cabin environment and by making necessary adjustments. He will have continuous display of his position and altitude and other instrument readings, and will have the capability of operating the reaction controls, and of initiating the descent from orbit. He will contribute to the operation of the communications system. In addition, the astronaut will make research observations that cannot be made by instruments; these include physiological, astronomical, and meteorological observations.14 The age requirement demanded a man of less than 40 years old. He needed to be no taller than 5 feet 11 inches, be a graduate of a test-pilot school, and have attained a bachelor’s degree or its equivalent. The announcement called for a total of 1,500 hours of flying, and a qualified jet test pilot. Conversely, Asif Siddiqi argues in Challenge to Apollo that due to the emphasis on automated flights, the Soviets did not require as many hours of flying experience. The cosmonaut with the most experience flying, Major Pavel I. Belyayev, had only 900 hours of flying. In fact, since the Soviets wanted younger pilots, between the ages of 25 and 30, most cosmonauts were not even test pilots.15 The annual pay for

the American astronaut fell at the GS-12 to GS-15, allowing a salary of $8,330 to

$12,770.16

The potential for the American astronaut to fly the capsule was important. Chief

of Manned Spaceflight, George Low, argued that “‘the success of the mission may well depend upon the actions of the pilot; either in his performance of primary functions or backup functions. A qualified jet test pilot appeared to be best suited for this task.’”17 Of

course, one could not deny the presence of former pilots within NASA. These men

championed the idea of pilot control of a space capsule. Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz argue

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that the Director of the Space Task Group, Robert R. Gilruth, stated his opinion on the necessary qualifications of the astronauts as:

Being an old aviation person myself, I thought there was nothing quite like test pilots who were used to flying a vehicle with wings instead of behind a rocket. They are used to altitude, the need for oxygen, bends and accelerations. They are used to high discipline and to taking risks, so I always felt that we should draw from professional aviators. The test pilots would be best because they also had the technical knowledge to understand the ins and outs of the space capsule and the rockets and navigation.18 The 9 April 1959 press release that introduced the world to the “Mercury 7”

maintained that over 100 American military test pilots met the astronaut qualifications.

NASA sent 69 of these candidates to Washington, D.C. to be interviewed. 80% of that group volunteered for spaceflight. After consultations and interviews, NASA narrowed the pool down to 32 candidates. NASA sent the men in groups for further testing to Dr.

Randy Lovelace’s clinic in Albuquerque where for “seven and a half days and three evenings” they endured a “series of exhaustive examinations” to test their physical and mental endurance. Tests included studies of their blood, circulation, nerves, heart, tissue, eye, ear, nose, throat, and x-rays, as well as various “related laboratory studies.”19

From there, NASA sent the 32 men for “psychological and stress evaluations”

under the watchful eye of Air Force, Army, and Navy personnel at Wright Air

Development Center and Aeromedical Laboratories, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base,

Dayton, Ohio. The men faced tests relating to “personality evaluation, stress, fatigue,

acceleration, high noise level, thermal stress, and equilibrium and vibration.”20 Among

other “tests” each candidate underwent a Rorschach (ink blot) test. The astronauts

answered a “566-item questionnaire,” including the question, “‘Who am I?’”21 The men

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submitted to “6 days and 3 evenings” of tests. After the series of examinations, NASA’s

medical and technical men met at NASA Space Flight Activity, Langley Field, to narrow

the group down to seven men. The press release explained that even though the majority

of the men were successful candidates, NASA decided to use only seven men so that each

astronaut “can have full participation in all phases of the Mercury development.” The

press release emphasized the individuality of each astronaut. On how NASA came to

their final seven, the release reads, “The seven ultimately selected were chosen as a result of physical, psychological [sic] and stress tolerance abilities and because of the particular scientific disciple, or specialty, each represents.”22 Each astronaut represented Cold War

masculinity’s rugged individualism. NASA wanted the men to not only have control of

the capsule, but also, control over their own bodies and emotions.

On 9 April 1959, during the country’s first press conference with the Mercury 7,

when asked about whether or not NASA feared the Soviets would put a man in space

first, Brigadier General Donald “Flick” Flickinger of the Air Force’s Research and

Development branch reiterated what was becoming the dominant narrative. Flickinger would not be surprised if the Soviets launched a man on the moon first. But, he proposed,

“I maintain that given cards and spades that the quality of our human component will be

far superior to theirs, and we will learn more from our manned flights than they will from theirs.”23 The American astronauts’ abilities to control spaceflight would be greater than

that of the Soviets. The American astronaut would have control.

The Cold War masculinity crisis’s fears of automation were addressed the

following October when the New York Times ran the headline: “Pilots Get Some Good

News; Group is Assured Machines Won’t Supplant Humans on Probes into Space.”

According to the report “this was music to the assembled test pilots’ ears, because their

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major theme long has been that they are not obsolete.”24 The article helped construct a

public dialogue of the astronaut as a key necessity in space travel. In a world of modern

machines, the article assured that man’s role would not be superseded by a computer. By

emphasizing pilot control of a space capsule, politicians and the print media accelerated

the process of molding the image of the autonomous pilot in control into a metaphor of

Cold War masculinity.

On 5 August 1959, for half a million dollars, Time-Life, Inc. bought the rights to

the astronauts’ stories. NASA approved, if not encouraged the contract. The astronauts’

divided the money equally among themselves.25 It is here that Life fashioned an image of

the Cold War pioneer. Life depicted the job of spaceflight as “daring and courageous.”

The astronauts were “physically strong of course” encountering “greater stresses than

most pilots had ever encountered, even in combat. And the men would have to have

nerves of steel. They would have to be devoid of emotional flaws which could rattle them

or destroy their efficiency when they found themselves in a crisis.”26 In their first issue

on the Mercury 7, Life referred to the men as “pioneers.” In that same issue, John Glenn

wrote that “Space travel is the frontier of my profession.”27 The use of the words

“pioneer” and “frontier” helped create this dialogue of Cold War masculinity that

surrounded the astronauts. These words and images connected the myths of the

nineteenth century pioneer with the white middle class men of the Cold War. They

became an amalgamation; a new man for the Cold War.

This dialogue of Cold War masculinity permeated the backgrounds of the first

seven astronauts. Of the original seven NASA astronauts: Lieutenant Malcolm Scott

Carpenter (Navy), Captain Leroy Gordon “Gordo” Cooper (Air Force), Lieutenant

Colonel John Herschell Glenn Jr. (Marines), Captain Virgil “Gus” Ivan Grissom (Air

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Force), Lieutenant Commander Walter “Wally” Marty Schirra Jr. (Navy), Lieutenant

Commander Alan Bartlett Shepard Jr. (Navy), and Captain Donald “Deke” Kent Slayton

(Air Force), all grew up during the Great Depression. Their parents raised them in small towns like Shawnee Oklahoma; Hackensack, New Jersey; Cambridge, Ohio; Mitchell,

Indiana; East Derry, New Hampshire; Boulder, Colorado; and Sparta, Wisconsin. Some served during World War II, and all fought in Korea. The astronauts did not spring from blue bloods. Each of them came from working class or military backgrounds. Most were the first of their families to attend or receive a college education. These men attended public universities or the military academies, not private or Ivy League institutions. Their climb from average American to a college educated heroic military fighter pilot represented the very best of American rugged individualism; making their stories, uniquely American. Within the American public discourse, the astronaut reflected the parameters of an ideal American masculinity.

Similarly to the reports by journalists on the background of the early barnstormers and pilot mail carriers, the astronauts’ backgrounds elicited romantic images of the self- reliant man. Life magazine constructed an image of self-control and autonomy even in discussing the astronaut’s hobbies. Life pinpointed hobbies that included the characteristics of a long ago rugged, individual, pioneer man. Riding, hunting, fishing, boating, archery, skin diving, and guns made the list of hobbies of the Mercury 7.28 They

preferred rugged individualism to team sports. On 20 April 1959, Time proclaimed the

astronauts as “individualists all.”29 When the astronauts wrote their first tell-all book,

selling only 250,000 copies, Life wrote a glowing introduction, filled with the qualities of

Cold War masculinity. While the astronauts were seven men with similar backgrounds, education, size, and shape, they were not “seven peas in a pod” but, “On the contrary,

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NASA wound up with a team of seven distinctly original personalities….” The men were

“seven highly motivated individuals, each of whom had found his way into the group under his own power…. They were individualistic even when it came to keeping in shape.” Not only did the media write glowing stories of the men’s individualism and courage, but also, according to Life, their “self-sufficiency.”30

However, while the public discourse of space journalists, politicians’ speeches

and the astronauts themselves suggested the astronauts embodied the heroic qualities of

the rugged individual pilot, some within the world of flying questioned the astronauts’

ability to fly their own capsules. Some argued that the astronauts were passengers. This became an essential paradox of the Mercury program. Was the astronaut a pilot, or was he as famous test jet pilot Charles “Chuck” Yeager claimed, “spam in a can?” Yeager’s

“spam in a can” image presented an astronaut who lacked control over his capsule.31 The

astronaut image was not immune from the Cold War masculinity crisis. He faced the crisis and through discussions about whether or not he controlled the capsule, he represented the crisis. The American discourse during Mercury hoped to ensure that the astronaut was not just another organization man.

However, in Life’s first article on the astronauts, the magazine presented to the public a dual image of the astronaut. The article touted the astronauts’ individuality, but at the same time, the piece insinuated a lack of control. The magazine presented a modern dialogue questioning whether it is the individual controlling the technology or whether the individual is the product of “engineers racing to perfect the capsule they will ride.”

The article further imparted the idea of the astronaut’s lack of control over his capsule by replacing the word pilot with the feminizing term “passenger.”32 Time referred to these

space travelers’ control “‘as passive as floating down a river on an oarless raft.’”33 This

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lack of control and fear of failure of the auto-pilot was referred to by Grissom as the

“hairiest part of the mission.” As part of team Mercury, the auto-pilot was Grissom’s area of expertise. Grissom described the auto pilot as controlling the,

pitch, roll and yaw of the capsule as it plunges about 100 miles downward. Every time it takes the slightest deviation from a normal path, the auto-pilot corrects this by signaling for the firing of small jets of hydrogen peroxide on the outside of the capsule. But if the auto-pilot doesn’t work, the pilot is going to have to bring the capsule down himself….34 Grissom appeared uneasy in the possible role as passenger of a machine. Grissom’s comment also suggests a link between the Cold War masculinity crisis’s fear of automation and the astronaut image.

As the American astronauts feared the automated pilot, when the Soviets launched

Gagarin into space, American newspaper headlines helped impart a masculine dialogue of cosmonaut pilot control over the capsule. On 13 April, the headline of the Chicago

Tribune read: “Pioneer’s Story Of Space!” The article stated: “From all over the world came praise that compared the son of a carpenter [Gagarin] to Columbus, Magellan, and

Lindbergh.” Television announcers and Russian propaganda hailed Gagarin as the

“Soviet conqueror of the Cosmos.” The associated press even went so far as to suggest that “the conquest of space by a man” represented “another feat of communist superiority.”35 Life magazine lamented that at this point, even if the Americans did get one of the Mercury Astronauts into space, “the achievement will seem pallid.”36

After Gagarin’s historic orbital flight, leading American newspapers focused on

whether or not he actually was a passenger or a pilot in control of his machine. The New

York Times wrote that while Gagarin’s capsule was equipped with an automatic

computer, there appears to have been “opportunity for action by the passenger if he

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wished.” What that action might have been is unclear. The article even reported that the

fundamental difference between the American and Soviet capsule was that the Soviet capsule used wings or gliders and parachutes for landing. 37 “Emphasizing he was no

mere passenger,” Gagarin stated, “I was entirely concentrated on carrying out the flight’s program....There was a lot of work. The entire flight meant work.”38 However, the

Chicago Tribune reported, “The spaceship was under control of scientists on the

ground…. scientists said there were ground controlled automatic devices aboard to guide

and operate the spaceship and ‘take care of the man himself’”39 These articles articulated

this paradoxical image of the man in control. The public used these same images to describe the American astronauts.

However, a shift occurred. After Shepard’s flight, the language used in the

American print media to describe Gagarin’s flight became more feminized. American

newspapers described Gagarin’s flight as that of a passenger. In the narrative of the Space

Race, Shepard’s control over his flight exemplified American Cold War masculinity.

This shift in dialogue over Gagarin’s flight suggested not only a cultural war between the

United States and the Soviet Union, but also stressed a gendered war over which culture

depicted a superior masculine image of their space travelers. President Kennedy underscored the cultural battle when after Gagarin’s flight he warned: “The Complacent, the self indulgent, the soft societies are about to be swept away with the debris of history.

Only the strong, only the industrious, only the determined, only the courageous…can possibly survive.”40

Even before Shepard’s 5 May 1961 flight, newspaper headlines touted the control

of the American male. The (London) Times speculated “Judging by accounts, Gagarin

rode almost as a passenger.”41 The Atlanta Constitution reported that of the known details

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of the flight, “The spaceship was under control of scientists on the ground.”42 After

Gagarin’s flight, NASA director James E. Webb snapped, “the first American manned

flight will demand greater participation by the pilot than apparently was involved in the

Russian flight.”43 For instance, Pennsylvania’s Tyrone Daily Herald ran the headline:

“U.S. Astronaut Will Have Partial Control of Capsule.”44 The American flight would be

much shorter than Gagarin’s. However, the article pointed out, “America’s astronaut will

be given limited navigational control,” while Gagarin’s flight “was under control from

the ground.”45

On 5 May 1961, NASA blasted the first American astronaut, Shepard, into space

aboard Freedom 7 (Mercury-Redstone 3). The New York Times ran the headline: “U.S.

Hurls Man 115 Miles into Space; Shepard Works Controls in Capsule, Reports by Radio

in 15-Minute Flight.” The paper stated that despite the fact that Shepard’s flight was much slower than Gagarin’s, Shepard’s capsule flew at 4,500 miles an hour, and

Gagarin’s at 17,000 miles an hour, Shepard’s flight was markedly different. “Commander

Shepard maneuvered his craft in space—something the Russians have not claimed for

Major Gagarin.” The article proved this feat by including the mission transcript in which

Shepard reported to mission control that he switched from automatic to manual pitch, yaw, and roll during his short flight.46 Similarly, the Chicago Tribune argued that

Shepard became not only America’s first astronaut in space but he did so “in the world’s first pilot controled [sic] space ship.” The article further contended that Shepard

“controlled the space capsule’s re-entry” by activating the retro rockets used to slow the capsule down, igniting a parachute for the capsule to float toward its smooth landing in the ocean.47 An editorial in the Nevada State Journal lauded the openness of the

American flight, and condemned the Soviets for secrecy, incorrectly suggesting that

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perhaps as many as 3 cosmonauts were killed before the successful launch of Gagarin.

The editorial professed that Shepard had flown much higher than Gagarin and that he

“control[led]…his own vehicle, whereas Gagarin’s was controlled by scientists on the earth.”48 The Washington Post took a different route and actually suggested that

Shepard’s suborbital flight could not be compared to the great achievement of the

Soviets’ orbital flight. However, according to the Post, Shepard’s flight proved man

49 could have manual control of a spacecraft in a weightless environment.

Likewise, when Congressmen Phil Weaver (R-NE) (Appropriations committee)

commented on Commander Shepard’s flight into space, he took great pains to show the critical issue of control. “Shepard,” according to Weaver, “was able to control his capsule from an interior instrument panel whereas the Soviet ‘cosmonaut’ [sic] flight was completely controlled from the ground.”50 In his own memoir, Shepard highlighted the

fact that the Soviet’s equipped Gagarin’s capsule, Swallow, with manual controls but that

the Soviets did not want to take the risk jeopardizing the mission by allowing Gagarin to

use them.51

Other articles focused on not only Shepard’s control over the capsule, but they also stressed his emotional control. On 6 May 1961, the Albuquerque Journal wrote,

“‘Tough, Determined’ Best Describes First American to Soar into Space.” The article described a “tough” and “determined” Shepard whose “brain and coordination were so sharp he can control his own flight 115 miles into the heavens and 302 miles down range into the sea….He is a man who seeks out danger and thrives on it as others seek money or pleasure.”52 The New York Times proclaimed that during, before, and after Shepard’s

flight, “He was probably the most unperturbed member of the crew.” Even Shepard’s

own mother said, “Alan has never feared anything.”53 The 19 May 1961 edition of Life

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contained Shepard’s own story of his flight. Shepard stated that as his launch date approached he “began to feel some small effects of the tension that was growing everywhere around me.” Shepard refused to call this “tension” fear. Instead he maintained, “They aren’t real fears; if they were, you’d quit altogether. They are normal apprehensions anyone might have before a big event.”54

The 12 May 1961 edition of Life also accentuated Shepard’s control over the

capsule. The article stated, “He did not fly as far, fast or high as Russia’s Yuri Gagarin.

However, he controlled the flight of his capsule—which Gagarin did not—and carried out his fantastic mission under the relentless pressure of television and worldwide publicity.” The article continued to argue, “whereas Cosmonaut Gagarin was apparently a passive passenger in an automatically controlled craft, Shepard’s more sophisticated instrument panel with its imposing array of 165 dials, switches, levers, buttons, and colored lights, gave him a degree of protection and control not [emphasized in original] provided by Gagarin’s.”55

The article labored in its emphasis on Shepard’s control over his capsule. For

instance, while the article acknowledged that a warning light would flash if Shepard’s

launch was in danger of failing, “the rocket could not have been launched at all unless

Shepard’s launch switch had been in the ready position.” Not only did the article profess

that Shepard controlled the launch, but it also suggested that if the automatic controls

failed “he [emphasis added] could have readjusted the temperature and oxygen supply

inside the cabin—and inside his space suit.” The article labored the point that Shepard

was in full control over his capsule:

He could have separated the capsule from the rocket and jettisoned the escape tower. He could have fired the retro- rockets and thrown off the leftover rocket pack. He could

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have opened the drag parachute as well as the main parachute which lowered the capsule gently into the sea— and if that hadn’t worked there was a reserve parachute he could have sprung. He could and did take over personal control of the pitch, yaw, and roll of the capsule through the peak of its flight, and could turn it downward for re- entry.56 Shepard told his Life audience that when the capsule left the atmosphere and entered space, he wanted to see if he could control the capsule. At that point, the capsule was traveling at around 4,500 miles an hour and was free and weightless in space. “Now using my three-axis control stick, I switched over to manual control, one axis at a time.”

The most interesting part of his story of controlling the capsule is that he managed to do it all within his short fifteen minute flight. He ended with: “Major Gagarin may have had a fine long ride but, as far as we can tell, he was a passenger all the way.”57

Much like the 21 May 1927 historic flight of Charles Lindbergh, Life argued that the “nation caught Shepard’s spirit of confidence.”58 No other statement on this confidence was clearer than President Kennedy’s bold declaration before Congress and the world. He would not be happy with just one “first.” He wanted to go bigger and bolder. On 25 May 1961, before a joint session of Congress, Kennedy openly challenged the Soviets and the American people. In promoting “the freedom doctrine,” Kennedy argued that the “great battlefield for the defense and expansion of freedom today” was not only Southeast Asia, but also in space. He said that in space, “our eagerness to share its meaning is not governed by the efforts of others.” Kennedy would not let the United

States be controlled by outside forces. The United States must assert its own individuality, its own control, or in other words, its own Cold War masculinity. He boldly stated: “I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth.” He

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acknowledged that it would be costly—an estimated “seven to nine billion dollars additional over the next five years.” His justification for such an expensive mission was that:

If we are to only go halfway, or reduce our sights in the face of difficulty, in my judgment it would be better not to go at all…. Now this is a choice which this country must make….it is a heavy burden, and there is no sense in agreeing or desiring that the United States take an affirmative position in outer space, unless we are prepared to do the work and bear the burdens to make it successful.59 Kennedy called upon scientists and engineers to fulfill their duty not just as citizens of

the United States but as men with the “technical and scientific manpower” to complete the job. “New objectives and new money,” the president asserted, “cannot solve these problems.” Instead, he proclaimed, “They could in fact, aggravate them further—unless every scientists, every engineer, every serviceman, every technician, contractor, and civil servant gives his personal pledge that this nation will move forward, with the full speed of freedom, in the exciting adventure of space.”60 Kennedy laid down the challenge. The

Americans controlled their own destiny in space. During a private meeting with the astronauts, Kennedy asked, “What do you want to do next?” Shepard responded to both

Kennedy and N.E. Halaby, head of the Federal Aviation Agency (FAA), “‘Just let us go!

We are being protected too much with equipment.’” Halaby told the press that the astronauts really desired “to be free to explore space with less protection and more initiative and daring.”61

NASA followed-up on Kennedy’s statement with a less than stellar suborbital

flight by Gus Grissom. Unlike the stiff upper lip exhibited in Shepard’s personality, when

NASA blasted Grissom into the heavens aboard Liberty Bell 7 (Mercury-Redstone 4) on

21 July 1961, in Life, Grissom admitted that he was “scared.”62 After Grissom’s

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splashdown in the ocean, his capsule’s hatch mysteriously blew and water poured into the

craft, almost drowning the astronaut. The capsule sank to the bottom of the ocean. Due to

what seemed like a failed landing of Grissom’s flight, the press passed on the opportunity

to make another comparison between Grissom’s flight and the Soviet cosmonauts who

continued “ahead” of the Americans.63

American enthusiasm continued to prove short lived not only due to the almost

drowning of Grissom, but also due to the 6 August 1961 Soviet launch of Vostok 2. The

cosmonaut aboard the capsule, 26-year-old Major Gherman S. Titov, call sign “The

Eagle,” orbited the earth seventeen times in 25 hours. It took Titov approximately 88

minutes to circle the earth. The capsule orbited over 435,000 miles, the estimated

distance to go to the moon and back. The Soviets claimed that not only was Titov’s flight

“more complex” than that of Gagarin’s but that Titov had exercised “manual control” of his capsule. Titov reported to TASS, “good manual controllability of the space ship.”

However, it was reported that the manual controls did not allow Titov “to alter his course through space. They merely made it possible to change the attitude of the craft—to pitch it up or down, roll it one way or the other, or yaw the nose right or left.”64

Nevertheless, he could not have controlled the capsule the entire time, as he slept for seven and a half hours while the scientists on the ground monitored Titov and his flight. Cosmonaut Gagarin differed with this report, claiming to the UPI in Halifax as he flew home to congratulate his fellow cosmonaut, “Titov had complete control of his craft and ‘could land it anywhere.’”65 The Warsaw Communist Party paper, Trybuna Ludu, ran

an interview with Russian planetarium scientist V. Lutsky who insisted, “‘The

importance of this flight lies, among other things, in the fact that Major Titov’s flight is a

piloted one. This is the first time that a man-controlled flight in space has ever been

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made.”66 Titov himself exclaimed that he “‘felt like a real pilot’ when he took over

manual control of his space ship.” Titov beamed “‘My space ship was a very smart machine and it was very easy to guide. I could turn it any way I wished. I could steer it any direction needed and I could land it wherever I wanted.”67 Titov again

enthusiastically reported on his ability to control the capsule. He announced in Life: “‘I

felt myself the complete master of the ship.’”68

Yet again the world praised the technological achievements of the Soviets, while

expressing concern of a weakening American space program. The director of London’s

Jodrell Bank radio-astronomy station lamented that the Soviet achievement did not shock him. He stated to the press, “‘In comparison with the Americans, you can guess which country appears to be struggling, and it is certainly not Russia’” as Vostok II demonstrated “the high state of Soviet science and technology.” Similarly, the president of the French Astronautic Society mourned, “‘I fear the lag can never be made up.’” 69

Unlike their European counterparts, the Pentagon dismissed the flight as “There is

nothing new to this flight from a military standpoint and…it doesn’t add to their military

capability.”70 The Soviets, especially the cosmonauts, shot back at the Americans. In a

speech to the 22nd Congress of the Soviet Union (CPSU), in October 1961, cosmonaut

Titov suggested that the American astronaut only had one goal in space: “‘money and

business.’” Titov believed that American astronauts flew in space “‘To receive a space

fee, to buy a home or a store, to start a business, to become a real bourgeois-exploiter—

this is the ideal of the American cosmonauts [sic]….’” The Soviet cosmonauts, on the

other hand, were “‘transformers of nature, dreamers, and romantics who volunteer to go

into space for the sake of its conquest and the good of mankind.’”71 Space journalists,

magazines, administrators, and politicians continued on their path to prove that the

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United States was first to have a pilot individually control a spacecraft. Their next example of astronaut Cold War masculinity came with one of Ohio’s favorite sons.

On 20 February 1962, John Glenn completed the first American orbital flight aboard Friendship 7 (Mercury-Atlas 6). Life reported “no man at any instant in human history was ever less alone.” The feat of the U.S.’s first orbital flight did not rest on the expertise of Glenn alone, but rather that “His feat was born out of a vast panorama of human and technical effort, of the patience and the skills of tens of thousands….”72 The

London associated press wrote of Glenn’s landing, “In restaurants people stopped eating to listen to radio reports of the final dramatic moments as Glenn’s capsule maneuvered

for its landing.”73 A February 1962 article of Newsweek suggested that like Lindbergh,

Glenn was an “authentic individualist.”74

Paradoxically, in describing the debate of man’s mastery over technology, the

editors at Life suggested of the sophisticated machine, “It could steer itself, cool itself,

land itself, release dye to attract attention to itself. It was a machine designed to operate, ideally, without the intercession of man….” However, while the adeptness of the machine is explained, the necessity of man to control the machine is also adamant in the article:

“the singular fact of Friendship 7’s three-orbit voyage is that it would have been impossible without the intervention of the man in the capsule and the men on the ground.”75 The article asserted the inability of the machine to perform without man’s intelligence. Glenn acted as part of a team on which the success of the mission depended.

While the article referred to Glenn as merely a passenger during the first half of the flight, man’s triumph over technology is emphasized when the automatic control system failed during its first of three orbits. The Mercury capsule controlled its position by shooting out hydrogen peroxide. On Glenn’s flight, the system that performed this

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function crashed, leaving the capsule unable to re-orbit automatically. The faulty machine forced Glenn to take over the controls.

From Friendship 7’s debacle, NASA scientists and engineers learned that even under weightlessness and pressure, the human mind can act skillfully while the machine performs poorly. Glenn expressed his feelings of man versus machine by suggesting;

“Now we can get rid of some of that automatic equipment and let man take over.”76

Glenn’s words did not only highlight man’s need to control machines, but also man’s

need to control his own masculine image. Like the crisis of masculinity’s fears of

automation, Glenn did not want to be a passenger; he wanted to be in control. NASA

employees wrote in the official history of Project Mercury, This New Ocean (1966), of

Glenn’s reaction to the faulty automatic stabilization and control system: “Glenn realized

that he would have to live with the problem and become a full time pilot responsible for

his own well-being.”77 The associated press quipped of the failure of the equipment: “But

unlike the fragile scientific hardware, which broke down several times under the stress

and strain of many flight postponements, Glenn is a rugged customer who never faltered

once physically or psychologically.”78 The Abilene Reporter-News wrote that even after

the dangerous feat in space, Glenn appeared “unruffled.” He was a man of “cool courage” as he calmly reported to the press of his space ride.79 Carleton J. King (R-NY) asked to insert in the House of Representatives Daily Record on 15 April 1962 “Tribute to a Hero” by P.C.C. Becker who wrote of the flight: “Colonel Glenn personifies the best in

American manhood.”80

As newspapers reveled in Glenn’s flight and his “typically American”

celebrations back home, leading newspapers briefly highlighted the men at Mission

Control. Among pictures of Glenn accepting the Distinguished Service Medal of NASA,

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papers reported that Director Robert R. Gilruth—the “man who has ramrodded Project

Mercury from its conception”—also received the same medal. However, there were no front page pictures of or parades given for Gilruth.81 The New York Times wrote that a

picture of Gilruth did not fit the “space adventurer” image. Lost among the countless

articles dedicated to Glenn, the Times proclaimed Gilruth as “the man most responsible

for putting Lieut. Col. John H. Glenn Jr. into orbit.” Although “little known to the

public,” the paper called Gilruth the “No. 1 Space Engineer.” Unlike the tough physic of the astronauts, the paper described Gilruth as “a ‘man of medium height and a growing waistline, he speaks almost in a monotone with seldom a tone of excitement in his voice.’”82

Shortly after Glenn’s 1962 orbital flight, Richard Donner released his film X-15

starring Charles Bronson and Mary Tyler Moore. Manufactured by North American

Aviation for the Air Force, the X-15 was the first plane to fly into space. On 19 July

1963, operating under the Air Force’s program “Man in Space Soonest” or “MISS,” pilot

Joseph Albert “Joe” Walker became the first X-15 pilot to cross the 100 km altitude and officially fly in space.83 The X-15 film that appeared in movie theaters and drive-ins across the country praised the image of the jet test pilot in control of his craft while at the same time, mocking the lack of control of the astronaut. The Air Force supported the film. Air Force Reserve General, World War II hero, and famed actor James “Jimmy”

Stewart gave the narration. He opened with: “‘the X-15 is ready, manned by a pilot who will make all the decisions for accurate control in flight, and reentry, and recovery.’” The film continued with the line “‘The X-15 pilot will be able to choose his angle of reentry, and control his speed and altitude and glide to his landing area…always under the pilot control. He has a choice.’”84 While the film is a good example of reinforcing this

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dialogue of the masculinity of jet pilots as they exerted control over their crafts, the

paradoxical dialogue of whether or not the astronaut was fit for such an image continued.

Unfortunately, astronaut Deke Slayton missed his chance to go into space during

Project Mercury. Slayton failed to exercise control over his own body. In July 1962,

flight surgeons announced they had deemed him unable to fly after they discovered he

had an “erratic heart rate.”85 NASA replaced Slayton with Scott Carpenter. On 24 May

1962, Carpenter flew in Aurora 7 (Mercury-Atlas 7). Before his flight, Life’s Loudon

Wainwright presented Carpenter to the public as a wanderlust pioneer, hunting, climbing,

exploring, and building (In the summer of 1943 Carpenter rebuilt “Bessie” a 1934 Ford).

The article depicted Carpenter as very much an individual, left alone most of his

childhood due to his mother’s illness. Other than his grandfather, one of his only

companions was a horse named “lady.” The article continued with words such as

“independence” and “freedom” to describe the lonely childhood of Carpenter. At the beginning of his flight, Carpenter’s memoir in Life magazine, “I Got Let in on the Great

Secret,” carefully constructed his control over the space capsule. For instance, Carpenter reminisced, “I turned the capsule around so that the blunt end would be headed along the right track I would follow. On this maneuver I used the manual control system and it worked perfectly. I then checked out the system thoroughly and found that the capsule responded beautifully to my movements on the stick.” He emphasized his manual actions over the automated systems. Carpenter praised the pioneering mission of Glenn before him which he argued “showed that a man can handle the machine under very difficult conditions….”86

Several of Carpenter’s automatic control systems failed during his flight, and his

capsule used up all of its maneuvering fuel. This was partly due to his stabilization

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system not holding the correct pitch, yaw, and attitude. The authors of This New Ocean stated: “As he [Carpenter] tried to determine what was wrong, he fell behind in his check of other items. When he hurriedly switched to the fly-by-wire control mode, he forgot to switch off the manual system. For about 10 minutes fuel from both systems was being used redundantly.”87 Carpenter took over the controls. He wrote in his Life article, “If we

started the re-entry at the wrong angle and the fuel was exhausted, I would be unable to

control the capsule during the descent. The chances that I would survive such an

uncontrolled re-entry were not good.”88 However, things continued to get worse as he

had not aligned the spacecraft correctly for retrofire. Due to the glitch in the control

system, Carpenter manually pushed the button to fire his solid-fuel retrorockets that were

strapped to his heatshield. Carpenter’s capsule was not at the correct attitude, he overshot

the landing. However, officials at NASA suggested that even if he allowed the computer

to shoot the retrorockets, the capsule would have overshot its landing even further.89 The

associated press reported, “Carpenter’s craft, struck dumb at the 12:30 p.m. reentry, never

again regained its voice.”90

Carpenter returned to face the enraged flight director, Kraft. Carpenter’s

autonomous actions aboard his capsule incensed Kraft. The flight director scolded

Carpenter for not following the flight plan and the direction of the ground crew. The

press raised questions of who really controlled the flight: Carpenter or Kraft. Back on the

ground, the two men’s disagreement infuriated Robert Voas. The industrial psychologist

saw Carpenter’s flight as a great “public relations feature that the man had performed and

brought back a damaged craft, or a partially nonfunctioning spacecraft.” According to

Voas, Carpenter’s actions would have supported the need for a human role in space.91

The disagreement between Kraft, Carpenter, and Voas highlighted an ever growing

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internal clash of control and autonomy between the astronauts and the Mission

Controllers. Tennessee’s The Kingsport-Times News took Kraft’s side. The newspaper reported that while Carpenter’s flight signified another chapter in “man’s conquest of nature…unlike the development of air travel itself, there is no individual effort of darting men off on their own and taking chances in a competitive spirit. The conquest of space must remain a piece of teamwork under rigid control.”92 The New York Times praised

Carpenter. However, one particular article emphasized the control of Kraft. The article argues that the “slightly built Virginian…calls the plays. If something is wrong with the capsule during liftoff, Kraft controls whether or not to press the “abort button” thus firing

“escape rockets” that would send the craft back to earth. It was Kraft, who in his “no- nonsense terms,” told Carpenter that he was “using up too much fuel in moving the capsule.” The paper reported that unlike the astronauts, Kraft “occasionally showed signs of nervousness. But now he is calm and sure, even when the pressure is worst and a man’s life is at stake.” Even though he is of “slight build” and “reticent off the job” he is a “‘take-charge guy.’” A “colleague” of his suggested “‘He can crack the whip when he has to.’”93 However, with the public admiration for Carpenter, it appeared as if the

astronauts could do no wrong. The New York Times stated: “Error By Carpenter Made

Craft Use Too Much Fuel.”94 Even though Carpenter appeared fallible, he remained in

control of his capsule

The Soviets followed with the next manned spaceflight. On 11 August 1962, they

launched Major Andrian G. Nikolayev aboard Vostok III. Nikolayev orbited the earth seventeen times in twenty-five hours and eighteen minutes. He broke the previously held record by Titov. The purpose of the flight was to test man’s “work capacity in the weightless conditions,” as well as the testing of “communications, control, and landing.”

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The capsule circled the earth every 88.3 minutes while traveling 18,000 miles per hour. It was reported that Nikolayev ate three square meals a day of “natural food” as opposed to

American astronauts’ “tubed food.” The cosmonaut slept for a total of seven hours. While he slept the “instruments on board his spaceship was [sic] carried out automatically.”95

However, The Salt Lake Tribune reported that the television image transmitted during the mission’s fourth orbit showed a closed eyed Nikolayev. “From time to time,” the paper argued, “his hands moved to work the controls.”96 The Soviet news agency, TASS,

underscored the “Iron Endurance” of Nikolayev.97 Later, it was discovered that the cosmonaut actually felt ill during the flight.98 The Times lamented that while it appeared

that Nikolayev would spend the same amount of time in space as the unmanned Soviet

satellite Cosmos IV, seventy-two hours, both American astronauts Glenn and Carpenter

only completed three orbits of the Earth.

The Kremlin delivered a note to the American embassy demanding that the

United States stop any nuclear weapons testing while Nikolayev remained in space.

Moscow also blamed poor Soviet-American relations in Berlin on American aggression

within West Berlin. The infamous note stated the purpose of the Soviet exploration of

space was for “peace purposes.” At the time of the note, the Soviets were also testing

nuclear weapons in the Arctic, however, TASS failed to notify the Soviet people of these

tests.99 President Kennedy “remained silent” of the Soviet feat.100 On 12 August 1962,

the Soviets launched cosmonaut Lieutenant Colonel Pavel Popovich aboard Vostok 4 to

orbit the Earth. Both crafts weighed about eight and a half tons, about six tons more than

the American space capsules.101

The New York Times wrote that Popovich operated his craft “manually.” What remains interesting is that the American media reported that the cosmonauts, who are

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actually referred to as “astronauts,” were very “busy” during their flights. However, they are reported as being busy filling out log books, eating, and sleeping. American print media reports of any actual control of their craft are vague. One report suggested that

“The instrumentation and other equipment of the space ships were said to be functioning faultlessly.” However, according to TASS, not only did the cosmonaut release himself from the harness but he also “controlled the ships manually and effected the necessary measurements, recording the results in their flight logs.”102 TASS maintained that the

cosmonauts “flew” their craft.103 Through the porthole of his craft, Nikolayev said he could see his fellow cosmonaut in orbit.104

Space journalists’ accounts of the flight remained mixed. Former President

Truman wanted proof of the feat.105 Kennedy pointed out that while Soviet flights

remained cloaked in secrecy, the American flights were open to the public. Senator

Teague remained confident in the U.S. space program, suggesting ironically, “Our space program is on solid ground.”106 Astronaut Carpenter was awestruck by the Soviet feat.107

While some within American print media hailed the Soviet flight as “Advances Reds

Ahead in Race to Moon,” some papers and TASS incorrectly reported that the

cosmonauts “landed inside their spaceships,” being “cushioned by parachutes” during the

“hazardous descent.”108 In actuality, the cosmonauts never landed inside of their space

capsules, but rather, they parachuted out of their capsules.

President Kennedy attempted to take back control of the Space Race. At Rice

University on 12 September 1962, like a general encouraging his troops, Kennedy exalted

that the nation needed “knowledge,” “progress,” and “strength.” For this, Kennedy once

again called upon images of America’s past. In 1630, William Bradford enticed his

fellow colonists to overcome “great difficulties” with “answerable courage.” The same

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was needed unless Americans were content to see space “governed by a hostile flag of conquest” rather than a “banner of freedom and peace.” In space, much like in the settlement of the United States, “We mean to be part of it—we mean to lead it….We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”109

Space journalists, politicians, and astronauts refused to let reports of cosmonaut

control stifle American control of a spacecraft. Wally Schirra flew next. NASA shot him into space on 3 October 1962 aboard Sigma 7 (Mercury-Atlas 8). Headlines hailed his flight as “Proving Pilots’ Space Role.”110 His flight lasted just over 9 hours, completing

six orbits. Schirra said he turned off the automated sequence ten minutes and thirty

seconds after liftoff and “the capsule was all mine now.”111 The Chicago Tribune ran the

line that Schirra demonstrated, “precision control of the orbital flight.” Schirra himself

even boldly declared that nobody had “flown a capsule before, much less under pilot

control.” He reminisced on his days as a test pilot as he argued, “my instincts as a test

pilot told me that Sigma 7 would not fail—not unless somebody, including me,

goofed.”112 Schirra daringly cut off the automatic sequences of the ground stations to

control his retro-fire and bring him down. He insisted that he had “full pilot control.”

Schirra claimed that “The controls worked beautifully.” He continued, “The control

system was so sweet that it responded perfectly with just a few light touches on either axis. I could point it at anything I wanted to, and I could have parked it on a dime if I had to. We have to control technique; that’s for sure.” Next, the astronaut experimented with

“powering down” the capsule. Schirra argued that NASA failed by not allowing the astronaut to let the capsule drift in orbit. In fact, he believed that if he wanted, “I could have taken over and snapped the capsule back into control at any moment in a matter of

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seconds if I’d had to.” During the flight, Schirra easily realigned himself “by using the

reticle and figuring out the attitude that I was in. In fact, I had no trouble throughout the

flight whenever I wanted to determine or correct the capsule’s attitude.”113

John Dille’s Life article on Schirra once again presented this image of the astronaut as free from fear, suggesting that before the flight, Schirra did not have any butterflies in his stomach. Schirra, the article proposed, hoped to perfect the machine (the capsule) to make it safer for the astronauts who followed in his footsteps. Therefore, he approached flying in space as a “professional test pilot.” And yet, paradoxically the article argued that it was the “marvelously” named Christopher Columbus Kraft Jr., director of all manned spaceflights, who “controls the destiny of astronaut flights from

the moment of lift-off to impact in the landing area.”114 Unlike Schirra’s story of a lone individual in space controlling his machine, Dille’s article argued that Kraft ultimately controlled Schirra.

On 15 May 1963, Major Gordon Cooper flew for thirty-four hours aboard Faith 7

(Mercury-Atlas 9). The Life article on the spaceman’s feat, “He Brings it in Right on the

Old Bazoo,” implied that, “In the beginning machinery stole the show.”115 Newsweek

described Cooper’s 1963 flight: “Once more, the ancient drama of the solitary individual

against the elements was re-enacted.”116 New York Times headlines hailed “Cooper

Maneuvers to a Bullseye Landing with Manual Control as Automatic Fails.” During his

22 orbits of the earth, on the 19th circuit his automatic system that lined up the capsule to fire the retro-rockets upon re-entry failed. After the failure, Cooper performed this task of the automatic controls by himself. Cooper experienced first-hand man’s mastery over technology. Richard Witkin of the New York Times wrote that “the astronaut guided himself to safety by manually controlling his capsule when his automatic controls

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failed.”117 Cooper remembered that after his 21st orbit he was certain that the automatic

power system would not come back on and that “the positioning of the spacecraft for retro-fire and running the whole rough ride back from space was going to be up to me.”

While he envisioned ground control sweating bullets, Cooper insisted that “All of us in

the Mercury program have felt that pilots are capable of flying the spacecraft through the

complete re-entry sequence.”118 After 600,000 miles and thirty-four hours “Gordo

Cooper made it—on his own.” Glenn radioed asking for his attitude. “Right on the old

bazoo,” roared Cooper, as he “steered his capsule through the critical re-entry.”119

Newsweek wrote of Cooper’s calm demeanor, suggesting, “Those who knew him

were not surprised by Cooper’s relaxed manor throughout his mission.”120 However,

when Cooper’s .05G panel light came on, the pilot did not take over but rather engineers at Cape Canaveral alerted the astronaut to his next moves.121 Flight director Kraft ordered

Cooper to turn on his automatic controls. Ground control soon discovered that “Cooper

would have to steer his ship manually.” Not only this, but the capsule’s inverters that

supplied AC electrical support for entry did not work. This meant that Cooper did not

have the aid of the automated systems during re-entry. The article reported, “He would

have to pilot his spacecraft back from orbit by human skill alone—and keep it from

tumbling and burning up.”122 The operations director for Project Mercury, Walter C.

Williams, summed up the importance of Cooper’s flight when he said, “it demonstrated

more than ever the importance of man in space-flight as a pilot, not as a passenger.”123

After Cooper’s flight, to further impart the idea of astronaut control, the New York

Times included a drawing of what Cooper’s controls would have looked like and which ones he would have used during his flight. When compared to the Soviet flights, astronaut control was vital. In May 1963, Life printed an editorial entitled “World Will

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Be Ruled from the Skies Above” that carried two sides of the debate on the importance of

NASA. While politicians such as J. William Fulbright (D-AR) suggested that the twenty billion dollars on spaceflight would be better spent on helping the poor, British astronomer Fred Hoyle referred to the race in space as “stupid.” Life postulated that unmanned missions into space would be more efficient than manned missions under the future Gemini and Apollo. However, detractors, such as famed physicist and astronomer,

Sir Bernard Lovell, argued that machinery could not demonstrate the capabilities of man.

In effect, “‘The machines cannot make on-the-spot judgments; neither can it discriminate and select from alternatives which cannot be anticipated by its designers. The ability to adapt to the unexpected situation or discovery is a vital factor in exploration.’”[italics in original]124

The official NASA historians of Project Mercury wrote that the most important

lesson learned from Mercury “was that man was still invaluable to the machine. Mercury

saw the evolution of the astronaut from little more than a passenger in a fully automatic

system to an integral and fully integrated element in the entire space flight organism.”125

Astronaut Carpenter remained optimistic of the pilot’s role. In April 1963, before a

Dallas crowd at the AIAA Manned Space Flight meeting, Carpenter stressed that man would continue to play an important role in the future of spaceflight. “Although we will be aided and backed by the same flight operations team that has made our Mercury flights so successful,” Carpenter professed, “pilot decision is going to play a large part in the spaceflight missions of the future.”126

As manned spaceflight turned from Project Mercury to Project Gemini, the press, politicians, and NASA continued with individual control of spaceflight. However, the

Soviet Union constantly ridiculed American machinery and control during public media

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events. On 12 April 1963, Cosmonaut Nikolayev announced during Cosmonautics Day that after viewing the capsule of American cosmonaut Schirra,

To be frank…I would not like to have been in his place. You have no idea how cramped and uncomfortable his capsule looks in comparison with the cabins of our remarkable cosmic ships…. One looks at this unreliable American contraption and one is again forced to feel proud of our country and our people, who have created such powerful and perfect cosmic ships.127 Cosmonaut Valery Bykovsky followed Nikolayev, brazenly mocking what was once the

pride of American ingenuity. When an audience member asked Bykovsky if the

American cosmonaut could have “left their couches while in orbit” he teased: “They

would have liked to do so but their cabins were not large enough. They are all strong and

courageous fellows, but they are not to be envied. There is no question of comfort in their cabins….” During a radio show that same day, Cosmonaut Titov told his audience that he was once asked who was braver, the American or Soviet cosmonaut. Titov said he and his fellow cosmonauts replied, “that the Americans were braver because they had to fly in a rocket that goes one time and blows up another.” He added, “‘If you fly and don’t know where you are flying, you must be brave.’”128

During an October 1963 speech in East Germany, Soviet Major General Kamanin

told a crowd that during an interview in the United States, the Soviet cosmonauts were

asked if they would fly into space in an American capsule. He told the audience that the

cosmonauts all answered independently: “‘Why should we change from our miracle

ships, the Vostoks, to such small, primitive, and unreliable capsules?’”129 Despite foreign

and at times domestic mockery, Americans celebrated the fact that as space machinery

faltered; the American astronaut took over the controls, taming not only the technology,

but also, the environment of space. In this manner, exercising Cold War masculinity in

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manned spaceflight became an essential element to the narrative of the American Space

Race.

Conclusion The reports from various newspapers, popular magazines, politicians, and NASA administrators surrounding the six Mercury flights represented the importance of

American control, or Cold War masculinity, within the public image of the astronaut. It can be argued whether or not the astronauts actually controlled their capsules. However, in the public discourse surrounding the flights, the purpose of spaceflight was clear.

Human control, and being “first” with it, was clearly important to the domestic and international image of NASA. Thus, who could fly was of central importance. The flyer could not be just anyone. He had to be someone who exemplified the best virtues of

American masculinity. In emphasizing the rugged individualism and control of the space flyer, Americans gendered manned spaceflight as a masculine sphere. Americans continued the dialogue of control over their space capsules into Project Gemini. As

Americans basked in the glow of the astronaut as a symbol of American superiority, questions pertaining to the role of women in space thrived in the press. Beginning in

1959, women challenged NASA’s cult of masculinity suggesting that they too were fit for spaceflight. Women tested not only the boundaries of gender and power, but also, who could fly.

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1. Neal Thompson, Light This Candle: The Life and Times of Alan Shepard (New York: Random House, 2004), 287. After waiting hours atop his rocket, Shepard demanded that the technicians hurry up and “Light this Candle!”

2. Alan Shepard Jr. and Deke Slayton, with Jay Barbree and Howard Benedict, Moon Shot: The Inside Story of America’s Race to the Moon (New York: Turner, Publishing, 1994), 118.

3. Wernher von Braun, “Man on the Moon: The Journey,” Colliers, October 18, 1952, 52. See also, David J. Shayler and Colin Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts (New York: Springer-Praxis, 2006), 1.

4. U.S. Congress, Senate, Hearings before the Special Committee on Space and Astronautics, H.R. 1181, 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 13.

5. In a meeting with T. Keith Glennan, President Eisenhower directed that the astronauts be picked from the highly selective pool of military test pilots. See John M. Logsdon and Roger Launius, eds., Human Spaceflight: Projects Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo, vol. 7 of Exploring the Unknown: Selected Documents in the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4407, 2008), 13. See also, T. Keith Glennan, The Birth of NASA: The Diary of T. Keith Glennan, ed. J.D. Hunley, with an introduction by Roger D. Launius (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4105, 1993).

6. Hugh Sidey, “How the News Hit Washington—With Some Reactions Overseas,” Life, April 21, 1961, 26-30, 27.

7. Roger Launius, “First Steps into Space: Projects Mercury and Gemini,” in Human Spaceflight: Projects Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo, 13.

8. As cited in Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 21.

9. United States, Senate, “Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications,” 94.

10. Kennedy Space Center, “Project Mercury Goals,” NASA, http://www- pao.ksc.nasa.gov/history/mercury/mercury-goals.htm (accessed September 5, 2010).

11. Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff, 158.

12. Joseph Atkinson Jr., and Jay Shafritz, The Real Stuff: A History of NASA’s Astronaut Recruitment Program (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1985), 29.

13. Ibid., 31. 126

14. Swenson, Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 130. 15. Siddiqi, Challenge to Apollo, 246. To note, the Soviets did waive the age requirement for some cosmonauts, namely Belyayev, who was 34 years old.

16. Atkinson, Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 35. See also David J. Shayler and Colin Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts (Chickester, U.K.: Springer, published in association with Praxis Publishing, 2007), 12. To note, the first group of Soviet astronauts was picked on 20 February 1960. It should be noted that in regard to qualifications to become an astronaut, the Soviet’s requirements were lower than that of the United States. The Soviet program did not require that this flying time be in a jet aircraft. After medical testing disqualified candidates, the Soviet’s relaxed the requirement of weight (70 kg), height (170 cm) and age, less than 30 years old, due to a significant lack of candidates. While this actually brought older more experienced pilots into the Soviet’s first class of cosmonauts, the candidates still lacked the jet test qualifications of the American astronauts. David J. Shayler and Colin Burgess argue in NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts that the lack of qualified jet pilots in the Soviet Union was due to their proclivity towards “automated systems” of rocketry. Not only were the Americans able to have higher standards but this American idea of the individual man controlling technology can be seen as compared to the human machine, the automated systems, and the Soviet Union.

17. Swenson, Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 131; Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 35.

18. As quoted in Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 35-36. In an oral interview conducted by Atkinson and Shafritz of Dr. T. Keith Glennan, the authors suggest that Eisenhower wished for the first group of astronauts be picked from military test pilots. They quote Eisenhower as saying, “Of course you should use service test pilots. They are in the service to do as the service requires of them at various times. They ought to have a chance to volunteer if they wish.”

19. NASA Press Release No. 59-113, “Mercury Astronaut Selection Fact Sheet, April 1959,” 1-4, NASA Historical Reference Collection, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/21680.PDF (accessed August 25, 2011).

20. Ibid.

21. NASA Press Release No. 59-113, “Appendix IV to Mercury Astronaut Selection Fact Sheet, April 9, 1959,” NASA Historical Reference Collection at, https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/21680.PDF (accessed August 25, 2011).

22. NASA Press Release No. 59-113, “Mercury Astronaut Selection Fact Sheet,” 4. 127

23. NASA, “Press Conference, Mercury Astronaut Team, April 9, 1959,” 1-34, 23, NASA Historical Reference Collection at https://mira.hq.nasa.gov/history/ws/hdmshrc/all/main/DDD/21680.PDF (accessed August 25, 2011).

24. Galdwin Hill, “Test Pilots Get Some Good News; Group is Assured Machines Won’t Supplant Humans on Probes in Space,” New York Times, October 9, 1959, 12. Mindell, Digital Apollo, 80-81.

25. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 235.

26. M. Scott Carpenter, et al., We Seven (1962; repr., New York: Simone & Schuster Paperbacks, 1962, edition January 2010), 6-7.

27. “The Astronauts—Ready to Make History,” Life, September 14, 1959, 26.

28. Ibid., 26-43.

29. “Rendezvous with Destiny,” Time April 20, 1959, 17; See the “The Seven Chosen,” Time April 20, 1959 in Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 57.

30. Carpenter, et. all., We Seven, 10, 18-20.

31. Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff, 64. This term is used in Wolfe’s book as a quote from Yeager, however, according to Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 131, this was a term used to describe the astronauts by the community of experimental test pilots. To the experimental pilots, ground control controlled the astronauts, therefore making the astronauts passive actors during spaceflight.

32. “The Astronauts—Ready to Make History,” 33, 26.

33. Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 62.

34. “The Astronauts—Ready to Make History,” 39.

35. Associated Press, “Pioneer’s Story of Space!” Chicago Tribune, April 13, 1961, 1; Associated Press, “Soviet Lands Man After Orbit of World; K [Khrushchev] Challenges West to Duplicate Feat,” Washington Post, April 13, 1961, 2.

36. Hugh Sidey, “How the News Hit Washington—With Some Reactions Overseas,” Life, April 21, 1961, 27.

37. Osgood Carruthers, “Pilot Could Fire Braking Rockets,” New York Times, April 13, 1961, 14. 128

38. Associated Press, “Red Describes Eerie Space Flight,” Hammond (Indiana) Times, April 13, 1961, 1.

39. “Pioneer’s Story of Space!” Chicago Tribune, April 13, 1961, 2.

40. President John F. Kennedy, “Address Before the American Society of Newspaper Editors, April 20, 1961,” John F. Kennedy Library, http://www.jfklibrary.org/Research/Ready-Reference/JFK-Speeches/Address-before-the- American-Society-of-Newspaper-Editors-April-20-1961.aspx. (accessed September 10, 2010).

41. “America Puts on a Brave Face: President’s Congratulations on ‘Outstanding’ Feat,” Times (London), April 13, 1961, 12.

42. Henry Shapiro, “Russia Cheers Its Cosmonaut,” Atlanta Constitution, April 13, 1961, 8.

43. Phillip Dodd, “Behind in Space Race: Kennedy Denies Weakness in Struggle on Ideology,” Chicago Tribune, April 13, 1961, 3.

44. Alvin Webb, Jr., “U.S. Astronaut Will Have Partial Control of Capsule,” Tyrone (Pennsylvania) Daily Herald, May 1, 1961, 1.

45. Phillip Dodd, “Behind in Space Race,” 3.

46. Richard Witkin, “U.S. Hurls Man 115 Miles into Space; Shepard Works Controls in Capsule, Reports By Radio in 15-Minute Flight; In Fine Condition Astronaut Drops into the Sea Four Miles from Carrier; Astronaut Sends Data from Craft; Shepard’s Condition is Fine After 15-Minute Trip from Cape Canaveral,” New York Times, May 6, 1961, 1. To note, the author also points out the military ranks of both Shepard and Gagarin, which point to a more experienced, mature, Shepard.

47. Phillip Dodd, “To Space—And Back!” Chicago Tribune, May 6, 1961, 1. The Chicago Tribune also emphasized the control of Shepard during the flight in the printed log of the spaceflight which also appears on the first page.

48. Editorial, “Great ‘Sidelight’ Victory Won by Man-in-Space,” Nevada (Reno) State Journal, May 6, 1961, 4.

49. John G. Norris, “Flight Proves Man Can Control Space Ship Outside Gravity Pull,” Washington Post, May 6, 1961, 1.

129

50. Congressman Phil Weaver, May 14, 1961, “White House Central Files-Subject Files,” Box 652, Folder, 84 “Outer space, January 18, 1961-January 25, 1962,” John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston, M.A. 51. Shepard Jr. and Slayton, with Barbree and Benedict, Moon Shot, 119.

52. United Press International, “‘Tough,’ ‘Determined’ Best Describes First American to Soar into Space,” Albuquerque Journal May 6, 1961, 6.

53. Richard Witkin, “Shepard had Periscope: ‘What a Beautiful View’; ‘What a Beautiful View,’ Shepard Exclaims from Capsule at 115 Miles in Space; Astronaut Calm During his Flight; Reports Data Methodically to Center at Canaveral—Ground Crews Cheer,” New York Times, May 6, 1961, 10.

54. Alan Shepard Jr., “The Astronaut’s Story of the Thrust into Space: Personal Account: ‘Butterflies, a Feeling of Go, They’re Yelling for Me,’” Life, May 19, 1961, 26. See also Shepard Jr., Slayton, Barbree and Benedict, Moonshot, 103.

55. “Emotions of the Nation Ride in Astronaut’s Capsule, So…Shepard and U.S.A. Feel ‘AOK,’” Life, May 12, 1961, 19, 22.

56. Ibid., 22-23.

57. Shepard, Jr., “The Astronaut’s Story of the Thrust into Space,” 28. The article found it prudent to write that Shepard fulfilled his mission without a breakfast containing “coffee or other stimulant.”

58. “Emotions of the Nation Ride in Astronaut’s Capsule,” Life, 19-20.

59. President John F. Kennedy, “Special Message to the Congress on Urgent National Needs, May 25, 1961,” John F. Kennedy Library, http://www.jfklibrary.org/Research/Ready-Reference/JFK-Speeches/Special-Message-to- the-Congress-on-Urgent-National-Needs-May-25-1961.aspx (accessed September 10, 2010).

60. Ibid.

61. Associated Press, “‘Just Let Us Go!’ Shepard Told Kennedy,” Gazette-Mail (Charleston, West Virginia), May 28, 1961, 38. See also, Associated Press, “Astronaut Seeks Flight Freedom,” Abilene (Texas) Reporter-News, May 28, 1961, 56; Associated Press, “CMDR. Shepard’s Plea; Said to Have Asked Kennedy for Freedom in Space,” New York Times, May 28, 1961.

62. “The Astronaut Adds a Fearful Footnote: A Hero Admits He Was Scared,” Life, August 4, 1961, 98-99.

130

63. In 1999, pad leader Guenter Wendt explained that Grissom did not intentionally blow the hatch of the capsule but rather, that a piece of it must have broken sometime during the flight or that Grissom’s parachute may have strip the hatch’s T-handle causing it to pop open. Nevertheless, had Grissom of blown the hatch himself, he would have been left with scars on his knuckles from punching it open. However, after he was rescued his hand had no sign of scars. See, Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 484.

64. Seymour Topping, “Soviet Astronaut Down Safely After Orbiting Earth 17 Times; Exercised, Ate, and Slept Aloft,” New York Times, August 7, 1961, 1; See also Preston Grover, “Soviet Astronaut Still Up; Khrushchev Says Quite a Number of Orbits Slated,” Lake Charles (Louisiana) American Press, August 12, 1962, 1; See also, Theodore Shabad, “Russians Acclaim Astronaut After Flight of 435,000 Miles,” New York Times, August 8, 1961, 1, 12, 6. Shabad suggest on page 12 that Titov took over the controls twice.

65. United Press International, “Gagarin Flies Home to Moscow After Learning of Soviet Shot,” New York Times, August 6, 1961, 6.

66. London (Special to the New York Times), “White House in a Message to Soviet Union Expresses Hope for a Space Accord; Soviet Shot Viewed by World As a Big Advance in Space Race,” New York Times, August 7, 1961, 6.

67. Theodore Shabad, “Titov Describes His Space Flight,” New York Times, August 9, 1961, 5.

68. “Titov’s Triumph in 17 Orbits,” Life, August 18, 1961, 42.

69. “Soviet Shot Viewed by World as a Big Advance in Space Race,” 6.

70. John W. Finney, “Pentagon Shrugs at Titov’s Flight,” New York Times, August 8, 1961, 1.

71. United States, Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, “Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications,” 48.

72. “He Hit the Keyhole in the Sky,” Life, March 2, 1962, 20-27, 20, 21.

73. Associated Press, “Sleep, Food Forgotten as Glenn Orbits,” Tucson Daily Citizen, February 21,1962, 13.

74. “Spaceman Ordeal,” Newsweek, February 5, 1962, 18; See also, Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 57.

131

75. Paul Mandel, “The Ominous Failures that Haunted Friendship’s Flight” Life, March 2, 1962, 39.

76. Ibid.

77. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 429. See also, Mindell, Digital Apollo, 81.

78. Associated Press, “John Glenn Tried to Keep Himself, Family in Background of Mission.” Danville (Virginia) Register, February 22, 1962, 3.

79. Bem Price, “‘Moment of Doubt’ Reported by Glenn,” Abilene (Texas) Reporter- News, February 24, 1962, 1.

80. Charleton J. King, House of Representatives, April 16, 1962, 87th Cong., 2d sess., Cong. Rec. 108, pt15: 6118.

81. Howard Benedict, “Glenn Given Nation’s Thanks and Medal by Nation’s Chief; Thousands Cheer Hero at Canaveral; but Spaceman Remains Modest Through it All,” Titusville (Pennsylvania) Herald, February 24, 1962, 1. On the “typically American” celebrations see Saul Pett, “Ceremony for Glenn Typically American; Humor; Corn; Music; Speeches; and Solemnity,” Titusville (Pennsylvania) Herald, February 24, 1962, 1; See also, Associated Press, “Grateful Nation Honors Astronaut in Ceremonies; 100,000 Cheer Space Hero At Canaveral,” Daily Capital (Jefferson City, MO) News, February 24, 1962, 1-2; Associated Press, “Flags, Parades, and Corn; Americans Show Best Form In Welcoming a Hero Home,” Daily Capital (Jefferson City, MO) News, 24 February 1962, 1.

82. “No. 1 Space Engineer; Robert Rowe Gilruth,” New York Times, February 24, 1962, 44.

83. NASA, “X-15: Hypersonic Research at the Edge of Space,” found at http://history.nasa.gov/x15/cover.html (accessed December 27, 2011). See also X-15: Extending the Frontiers of Flight, found at http://www.aeronautics.nasa.gov/ebooks/downloads/X_15_Frontier_of_Flight.pdf (accessed December 27, 2011).

84. X-15, directed by Richard Donner, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1961; See also Mindell, Digital Apollo, 62. The Air Force and NASA introduced the North American X-15 publicly on September 17, 1959. It was discontinued in December 1970.

85. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 440-442; See also, Daniel Rapoport, “Heart Flutter Grounds ‘Deke,’” Tipton (Indiana) Tribune, July 12, 1962, 1; Associated Press, “Deke Won’t Be Making Solo Flight,” Tucson Daily Citizen, July 12,

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1962, 36; Associated Press, “Heart Trouble Grounds Astronaut Deke Slayton,” Hays (Kansas) Daily News, July 12, 1962, 1.

86. Loudon Wainwright, “From a Mountain Boyhood Full of Roaming and Recklessness Comes a Quiet Man to Ride Aurora 7,” Life, May 18, 1962, 30, 32, 33.

87. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 453.

88. Scott Carpenter, “A Sensitive Man’s Exhilaration on a Rugged Ride: ‘I Got Let in On the Great Secret,’” Life, June 8, 1962, 30.

89. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 454.

90. Associated Press, “The Carpenter Drama: 3 Orbits, Overshoot, Disappearance Reveal New Dangers, Solutions, Vistas,” Fitchburg (Massachusetts) Sentinel, May 25, 1962, 1.

91. Mindell, Digital Apollo, 81.

92. “Another Chapter Written,” Kingsport (Tennessee) Times-News, 27 May 1962, 24.

93. “Mercury Flight Chief, Christopher Columbus Kraft Jr.,” New York Times, 26 May 1962, 8.

94. Richard Witkin, “Error By Carpenter Made Craft Use too Much Fuel; He Used Two Systems During Last Phase of Flight—Officials are Considering Seven Orbits for Next Astronaut,” New York Times, May 27, 1962, 1, 44.

95. Seymour Topping, “Third Russian Orbiting the Earth in Flight Expected to Set Record; Soviet Watches Him on TV Screen; He Sleeps 7 Hours; ‘Feel Fine,’ Astronaut Informs Khrushchev in Talk by Radio; Third Soviet Astronaut is Launched into Orbital Flight Expected to Outlasts Titov; Fliers TV Report Says He is Well; Khrushchev Praises Pilot as They Chat by Radio on 4th Trip Around Earth,” New York Times, August 12, 1962, 1, 24.

96. Preston Grover (AP), “Russ Orbit Spaceman No. 3, ‘Might Stay Up for a Week;’ K. Airs Shot, Asks: No A-Test Please,” Salt Lake Tribune, August 13, 1962, 1, 11, 11.

97. Topping, “Third Russian Orbiting The Earth In Flight Expected To Set Record,” 24; See also, “Astronaut is Former Lumberjack,” New York Times, August 12, 1962, 24. The article refers to the cosmonauts as “astronauts.”

98. Asif A. Siddiqi, Sputnik and the Soviet Space Challenge.

99. “Harry Schwartz, “Propaganda in Space; Some in West Regard Latest Soviet Flight as Portent of Move in Berlin,” New York Times, August 12, 1962, 25; See also, Lewis 133

Gulik (AP) “U.S. Is Willing To Hold Shots During Orbit,” Lake Charles (Louisiana) American Press August 12, 1962, 1.

100. “Kennedy Keeps Silent On New Russian Flight,” New York Times, August 12, 1962, 25.

101. Associated Press, “Soviets Hail Space Hero,” Logansport (Indiana) Press, August 16, 1962, 1.

102. Seymour Topping, “Soviet Pilots Spin On in Orbit; One Has Flown Million Miles; He is Tired But Still Efficient; Astronauts Busy; They Work and Chat-Time of Landing is Still Undisclosed,” New York Times, August 14, 1962, 1, 14, 14.

103. United Press International, “Soviets Drop Back To Earth; Spacemen End 4-Day Spectacle; Both Men Said To Be Healthy,” Bakersfield Californian, August 15, 1962, 1- 2.

104. Seymour Topping, “Two Soviet Space Craft Circling Earth in Adjacent Orbits After New Launching; Pilots Keep in Touch by Sight and Radio; Astronauts on TV; Both Report All is Well; Nikolayev Breaks Titov’s Record,” New York Times, August 13, 1962, 1, 10, 1.

105. UPI, “Truman Is Unconvinced,” New York Times, August 13, 1962, 11.

106. “Two Soviet Space Craft Circling Earth in Adjacent Orbits After New Launching; Pilots Keep in Touch By Sight and Radio;Kennedy Tribute; President Hails Feat—No Surprise Felt Over Soviet Lead,” New York Times, August 13, 1962, 1, 11.

107. United Press International, “Carpenter’s Reaction,” New York Times, August 13, 1962, 11.

108. United Press International, “‘Russian ‘Cosmonauts’ Comes Back To Earth; Flight Advances Reds Ahead in Race to Moon,” Journal Tribune (Marysville, Ohio), August 15, 1962, 1-2, 1.

109. President John F. Kennedy, “Address at Rice University on the Nation’s Space Effort, September 12, 1962,” John F. Kennedy Library, http://www.jfklibrary.org/Research/Ready-Reference/JFK-Speeches/Address-at-Rice- University-on-the-Nations-Space-Effort-September-12-1962.aspx (accessed September 10, 2010).

110. Richard Witkin, “Flight by Schirra Viewed as Proving Pilots’ Space Role,” New York Times, October 5, 1962, 1.

134

111. Wally Schirra, “A Real Breakthrough—The Capsule Was All Mine,” Life, October 26, 1962, 39-43, 39.

112. “Six Perfect Orbits; Safe,” Chicago Tribune, October 4, 1962, 1. 113. Wally Schirra, “A Real Breakthrough,” 39-43; See also Mindell, Digital Apollo, 82.

114. John Dille, “At the End of a Great Flight, Big Bull’s-Eye,” Life, October 12, 1962, 50.

115. “He Brings it in ‘Right on the Old Bazoo,’” Life May 24, 1963, 28-33.

116. “On the Bazoo,” Newsweek May 27, 1963, 61; See also, Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 57.

117. Richard Witkin, “Cooper Maneuvers to a Bullseye Landing with Manual Control as Automatic Fails” New York Times, May 17, 1963, 1; See also, Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 57.

118. Gordon Cooper, “Everyone Was in a Sweat, I was Secretly Pleased,” Life, June 7, 1963, 31.

119. “On the Bazoo,” Newsweek, 61.

120. Ibid., 62.

121. A .05G panel normally tells the astronaut that his capsule is knifing into the top of the atmosphere during re-entry and is starting to slow down. At this point, the astronaut returns from his weightless condition in space and begins to feel deceleration, or G, forces. Since Cooper knew he was still weightless and still on his charted path, i.e., not re-entering the atmosphere, he knew something was wrong.

122. “On the Bazoo,” Newsweek, 63. To note, without his “indicators” Cooper had no way of knowing if he was lined up properly for re—entry and landing. The New York Times indicates a similar circumstance here suggesting Cooper had to do the job usually “entrusted to an automatic computerized system.” See Richard Witkin, “Cooper Maneuvers to a Bullseye Landing with Manual Control as Automatic Fails,” New York Times, May 17, 1963, 1.

123. Richard Witkin, “Cooper Steers to Bullseye Landing by Manual Control as Automatic System Fails,” 18.

124. “World Will Be Ruled from Skies Above,” Life, 17 May 1963, 4.

125. Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, 509.

135

126. Lt. Commander M. Scott Carpenter, “AIAA Manned Space Flight meeting in Dallas, April 22, 1963,” Impact Files, “Space Quotes file 15767,” NASA HQ.

127. United States, Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, “Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications,” 48.

128. Ibid.

129. Ibid.

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CHAPTER V

FLIGHTY WOMEN: PENETRATING THE MASCULINE DIALOGUE OF

SPACEFLIGHT, 1958-1964

In November 1962, appearing before a crowded auditorium at Mississippi State

College, Dr. Wernher von Braun asked why “the Russians were first in space.” He

lamented that Americans had become too complacent with a “life of comfort, ease, and pleasure.” He asked the crowd, “Had we become too soft in the process?” He implored the students, both men and women, to embrace new technologies and sciences and

“vigorously” explore space. However, when it came to physically flying a capsule into space, he told the students that one of the most popular questions he was asked from reporters was when a woman would go into space. He informed the crowd not to worry.

He and his friend, Bob Gilruth, were “reserving 110 pounds of payload for recreational equipment.”1 Von Braun’s joke about women space flyers, his fears of “soft” living, and

his plea to move “vigorously” in space mirrored the public discourse of the Cold War

masculinity crisis. His speech continued the narrative of spaceflight as a masculine

venture.

The following chapter builds upon the previous chapters in asserting that the

public discourse of the print media, politicians, and at times NASA constructed the image

of the astronaut as exhibiting Cold War masculinity in space. Male astronauts vied for

control of space, while NASA relegated women to the role of help mates within the

masculine world of spaceflight. The model of female as support for the male engineers

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and astronauts mimicked—and in my cases was—the role of the wife within the social structure of the idealized Cold War American family.2

Western society has typically looked at engineering as a male profession, and the

United States was no different. Ruth Oldenziel argues in Making Technology Masculine:

Men, Women, and Modern Machines in America, 1870-1945 (1999) that machines became a “trope designed to authenticate male authority in American society.” Since the

beginning of American engineering, Americans created the field as a symbol of white

middle class individual manhood.3 Margaret Rossiter contends in Women Scientists in

America: Before Affirmative Action, 1940-1972 (1995) that despite the urgency to fill

science and technology jobs, the period of 1940 to 1972 remained a “very dark age for

women in the professions.” Women’s colleges were closing. Colleges and universities

replaced married and older single women with younger PhDs in what Rossiter refers to as

“code language for the masculinization of formerly female dominated areas.” The post-

World War II era could have been a time of great change. Instead, Rossiter suggests, it was “a time when young male scientists faced enhanced opportunities at every turn, the young women were supposed to be at home with the children, whether they had them or not or whether they wanted to be there or not.”4

The 1964 M.I.T. symposium on Women and the Scientific Professions strengthens

Rossiter’s assumption. Here, Alice S. Rossi claimed that not only society’s assumptions about men’s and women’s proper roles, but also that the American image of the scientist and astronaut helped keep women out of these fields. She argued that the image of the engineer was one of a “rugged outdoor type, highly masculine, smoking an unfiltered cigarette in a plaid wool shirt amid noise and bustle and dirt.” With an “unfeminine”

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image, women and their parents felt that within the engineering profession, the “very

masculine men would resent the presence of women colleagues.”5

NASA accommodated the social agenda of Cold War separate spheres for women by relegating the majority of women into traditionally feminine jobs. This is not to say that women did not work as scientists or engineers or that NASA viewed women as unimportant to the organization. Women were very important to NASA. Dr. Nancy

Roman headed NASA’s astronomy program from 1960 until the late 1970s. By 1974,

NASA employed 4,432 women. 310 of these women worked in science and engineering.

Only four served in the highest civil service pay grades.6 The astronaut’s wives also

played very important roles in the gendered image of manned spaceflight. All but one of

the Mercury through Apollo astronauts was married. As stories of the astronauts filled

print media, so too did stories about their wives.7 However, even though their numbers

were small, women forced the conversation about gender roles in NASA. Their fight for

spaceflight made Americans confront the masculine image of the astronaut and who

could control a space capsule.

In the early sixties, women’s public response to NASA remained divided. For

instance, between 1959 and 1962, female flyers such as Jackie Cochran, Geraldine

“Jerrie” Cobb, and Janey Hart fought for women to be astronauts; however, they did so in very different ways. Professor of Linguistics at Case Western Reserve, Marie Lathers, argues in her “‘No Official Requirement’: Women, History, Time, and the U.S. Space

Program,” (2009) that both Cobb and Hart “argued forcefully that the astronaut program’s qualifications unfairly excluded women. In contrast, Cochran urged that

NASA hold off on changing its qualifications.” Lathers suggests that these two different outlooks represented two of the most prevalent views of women’s history. To “place”

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women within history “as it happens” as advocated by Cobb and Hart, or as advocated by

Cochran, wait, and exercise their “gendered virtue of patience” letting the men make history and have the women follow.

The following chapter also looks at the dialogue within the 1962 Subcommittee transcripts on the arguments made by the committee, NASA administrator George Low, astronauts John Glenn and Scott Carpenter, as well as Cobb, Hart, and Cochran.

However, unlike Lathers, who analyzed the historical meanings of words such as

“experience,” “engineering,” “interruption,” “interference,” “qualifications,” and

“requirements;” the chapter places the testimony during the subcommittee hearing within the context of the Cold War masculinity crisis. Lathers proposes that the possible

“rivalry” between Cobb and Cochran “reveals how individual women who wish to appear exceptional can sometimes impede women as a group from making a mark on history.”8

In looking at the public discourse, the chapter contends that NASA considered women

very important to the image of NASA, as long as they stayed within their Cold War

gendered spheres; in other words, outside the realm of Cold War masculinity.

Cochran played into the public dialogue of NASA by suggesting that bringing

women into the program would upset domestic security. She predicted embarrassment for

both females and the country by haphazardly sending a woman into space. Cobb and Hart

wanted equality without playing into their traditional domestic roles as women. In

considering why an American woman could not fly into space in the early 1960s, this

chapter argues that Americans wanted their astronauts to symbolize Cold War

masculinity’s rugged individualism and control. The public narrative surrounding the

early space flights pinpointed American control of the capsules. Within the language of

the Cold War masculinity crisis, femininity meant lack of control. A woman in a capsule

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would have symbolized such. The American media mocked Soviet cosmonauts for their lack of control. Blasting a woman into space would have contradicted the current public narrative of American spaceflight. The language of the subcommittee hearings even suggested the need for pilot control of a space capsule. The domestication of women was of the utmost importance to the image of spaceflight. Since women belonged in the domestic sphere, women would have to wait for the domestication of space to fly. In essence, women would have to wait until spaceflight was safe.

Women have always been part of the narrative of flight. As discussed in previous chapters, the history of flight is as much about culture as it is about science and technology. Despite discrimination, women still found avenues into the field. For instance, in the 1920s, popular culture created a “new woman” image of the female sex.

The “new woman” ventured outside the domesticated realm of the home. On a limited and usually domesticated scale, American culture accepted women into the disciplines of science and technology. With limited access, women entered the field of flight. Leslie

Haynesworth and David Toomey of Amelia Earhart’s Daughters (1998) contend of the flapper image:

And in some ways the aviatrix was the perfect icon of the ‘new’ femininity. She was the flapper and the career woman rolled into one: a wild adventuress and a serious, skilled master of a challenging profession. She was participating in the realization of incredible new possibilities. She was brave and she was enterprising. And she did not let traditional notions of what she was ‘supposed’ to do stop her. In short, she was just about everything Americans wanted their heroes to be.9 This is not to suggest that women easily entered the male dominated field of

flying. To be accepted, women still played upon their femininity as they made flying

appear glamorous. Women danced atop their planes’ wings in full make-up and costume 141

during air shows. Joseph J. Corn argues in The Winged Gospel: America’s Romance with

Aviation, 1900-1950 (1983) that the image of women flyers in the pre-World War II era

created an image of the ease of flying. Corn proposes that most female flyers detested

that to the general public female flyers represented just how easy flying could be.

However, women accepted the image. By playing into female gender roles, women could

enter the male realm of flying. In accepting the feminine flyer image, women

“subordinated the cause of equality for women to the cause of aviation.”10 Stereotypes of

gender remained as Americans continued to view flying as not feminine, but rather, dirty

and dangerous.11 Commenting on Amelia Earhart’s July 1937 disappearance, Life

insisted that she had undertaken “the kind of dangerous stunt of which the Federal

Government now strongly disapproves.”12

Americans might have viewed flight as too dangerous for the female sex, but

women actively carved out their own spaces within flight as stewardesses. Stewardesses

played multiple roles. Aboard commercial flights women acted as nurses, waitresses, and

comforters. Women symbolized control over the cabin, not necessarily control over flight

technology. Their domesticated status symbolized the safety of flight. Women as

stewardesses did not upset power hierarchies in flight technology. The male pilot still

retained control over the technology, and thus, who could fly. Stewardesses demonstrated

that Americans preferred to relegate women to traditional roles of wife and mother

instead of the masculine role of controlling flight.13

The aviation experience of American women in World War II confirmed the

unwillingness of Americans to send women into dangerous (combat) situations.

Americans detested the idea of women being blown to pieces on the battlefield. However,

historical debates continue about why the United States decided to allow women to fly

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for the military as civilians during the war. Molly Merryman’s Clipped Wings: The Rise and Fall of the Woman Airforce Service Pilots (WASPSs) of World War II (2001) attributes the decision to use women as flyers to the relentless insistence of famed female flyer Cochran and Chief of the Air Corps, General Henry H. “Hap” Arnold. Together both Cochran and Arnold created the para military organization, the WASPs.14 Similarly,

in September 1942, celebrated female flyer Nancy Harkness Love founded the Women’s

Auxiliary Flying Squadron (WAFS) or Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron (WAFS).

In the summer of 1943, the Army joined both Cochran’s and Love’s organizations into

the WASP.15 Women flying during the war elicited fears of women’s public participation

in the military. In the United States, over 400,000 women served in the military. The

government allowed none to fight in combat. Between 1942 and 1944, over one thousand

WASPs ferried planes from factories to bases throughout the United States, Canada, and

Britain. The WASPs flew every type of aircraft that their male counterparts flew. While men fought in the skies, the women ferried and tested the planes and trained male soldiers to fly.

In July 1943, Life magazine featured these “Girl Pilots” on the front cover of their issue. The article maintained that the “girls” fly with “skill, precision, and zest, their hearts set on piloting with an unfeminine purpose that might well be a threat to Hitler.”

While the “girls” are very “serious” about their flying, becoming competent in the same courses as regular Army pilots (besides gunnery and flying formation) the “Girls are very serious about their chance to fly for the Army at Avenger Field, even when it means giving up nail polish, beauty parlors, and dates for a regimented 22½ weeks.” While the article highlighted women participating in atypical feminine jobs during the war, it also

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maintained that women were “to relieve fighting men for combat duty.”16 Women’s

military participation was clear. They were to remain outside of the male combat zone.

A preponderance of American men, and at times women, hated the thought of

women in the military, let alone women in combat. Some male soldiers even demanded

that their female relatives and friends not join the military. Rumors thwarted the

Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps and the Women’s Army Corps (WAAC/WAC)

recruitment as men viewed female recruits as sexual “extremists.” De’Ann Campbell proposes in “Women in Combat: The World War II Experience in the United States,

Great Britain, Germany, and the Soviet Union,” (1993) that the male disdain for women in the military, let alone combat, can be best understood as the male view that military service was “a validation of their own virility and as a certificate of manhood.” Campbell writes, “What stopped the British, Americans, and Germans from allowing…women to pull the trigger was their sense of gender roles—a sensibility that had not yet adjusted to necessity.”17 However, test piloting was dangerous. Thirty-eight WASPs were killed

while ferrying or testing planes.18 The military disbanded the WASPs in 1944. It would

not be until 1977 that these women were fully recognized for their military service.19

Women faced further discrimination in the post-World War II era. Returning from

war, male pilots accepted jobs with commercial airline companies. Women took what

few jobs men did not want. During the war women entered the traditionally male realm of

outside employment and flying. However, the American public viewed their participation

in the war as fulfilling their domestic duties. For the most part, women stayed on the

home front, while their male counterparts left the homeland to fight overseas. Women

still remained in the domestic realm.

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During the war magazines such as Ladies’ Home Journal, Home and Garden,

Colliers, Life, and Atlantic Monthly urged women to find employment for the war effort.

After the war a smaller percentage of women returned to the home than left the home

during the war. Despite a growing number of women working outside the home, popular

magazines, corporations, and pundits advocated for women to return to the home. Social

activist Agnes E. Meyer wrote a scathing article in Atlantic Monthly concerning women

and national security entitled “Women Aren’t Men.” Meyer argued, “Women have many careers but only one vocation—motherhood….It is for woman as mother, actual or vicarious, to restore security in our insecure world.” Much like the language surrounding the masculinity crisis, Meyer’s main concern was the loss of American individualism.

She lamented:

The shattering of the social structure has disastrously isolated the individual… Many people are tired and frightened to a point where they can no longer endure their social isolation and the burden of an individual destiny…. Women must boldly announce that no job is more exacting, more necessary, or more rewarding than that of housewife and mother. Then they will feel free to become once more the moral force of society through the stabilization of the home.20 Other magazine articles reflected Meyer’s fears. A 1951 Seventeen Magazine article

entitled “How to Be a Woman,” instructed young girls to be “a partner of man…not his

rival, his enemy, or his plaything.”21 These were the messages journalists and writers sent

to women regarding their appropriate gender roles. None of these roles included the

dangerous role of flight, let alone spaceflight. D’Ann Campbell argues that “no

permanent or radical transformation took place” in American gender roles after the war.22

Women returned to the domestic sphere. However, they still found themselves

within public discussions during the early years of spaceflight. In the discourse of 145

spaceflight, women’s role as passenger and not flyer appeared evident. In September

1958, the Los Angeles Times argued for traditional female roles for women space travelers. The paper reported that at a recent meeting of the American Psychological

Association in Washington, psychologists and space scientists quipped that with

“‘feminine companionship’” interplanetary flight might be “less rigorous.” While the

University of Florida’s Dr. Wilse B. Webb suggested that the addition of the female space traveler would “cure boredom,” the idea was not perfect. For instance, “Suppose the psychologists goofed and picked a feminine passenger who proved to be incompatible.” Dr. Webb warned that this would only cause irreparable harm to the pilot.

“Imagine,” advised Dr. Webb, “hurtling tens of millions of miles accompanied by a nagging back-seat rocket pilot. It would be enough to make the spaceman hit the liquor lever too hard and make the wrong turn as he approached Saturn.”23 By the use of the

term passenger, it is assumed that the woman would not be flying the craft. The following

summer, a research firm nominated a married Beverly Hills stewardess, Pamela Jayson,

as the first stewardess aboard a manned spaceflight. The appropriate roles for women

were in the domestic spheres as passengers.24

The media portrayed male astronauts in the important role of rugged individuals

of the new frontier, and the image of the wives served an equal importance. The astronaut

wives were intelligent, brave, efficient caretakers of the home and children, and above all, they eagerly awaited their husbands’ return from the dangers of space. The wives’ public role at NASA was wife and mother. Even though the domesticated public image of

NASA remained important, a few men thought NASA would benefit from a more direct

role of women in spaceflight. In 1959, Brigadier General of the Air Research and

Development Command (ARDC), Donald Flickinger, proposed project “Women in

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Space Earliest” (WISE). He worked with Lovelace in the 1950s on the Central

Intelligence Agency’s secret U2 spy plans. Flickinger anticipated both sexes living and working in space. In 1959, the ARDC assessed female aviator Ruth Nichols to see if she could pass the astronaut tests. At the same time, in 1959 Look magazine gained permission to use NASA facilities to put famed flyer Betty Skelton through astronaut tests. Look conducted the tests for publicity. They were not necessarily interested in proving a scientific point or removing any barriers to women in spaceflight. While both

Nichols and Skelton went through testing, Jerrie Cobb took her first tests at the Lovelace

Foundation.25

The ARDC and Lovelace programs hoped to prove that due to women’s smaller size, they would be more capable of space travel. The programs took place before

Kennedy’s push for a man on the moon, and even before Gagarin and Shepard went into

space. Americans did not have a perfect image of what a space flyer should look like.

However, traditional American gender roles played a large part in the tests administered by Look and the ARDC. For instance, Look suggested of women in space, “Our first girl in space will probably be a flat-chested lightweight under 35 years of age and married….

Her first chance in space may be as the scientist-wife of a pilot-engineer.” Weitekamp suggests that scientists feared that if men and women went into space together, they would engage in sexual relations. However, a married female astronaut implied stability.26 This stability not only implied control, but also the domestication of spaceflight.

The ARDC held similar views on the jobs of women in space. They considered using women as scientists, but not as pilots. The Director of the Air Force Aeronautical

Laboratory at Wright Field told the Philadelphia Inquirer in January 1959 that the

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woman’s performance within the isolation chamber overshadowed that of the male subjects. The men’s performances showed that unlike the women the men “start worrying about their families and become aggressive and irrational too soon to stand a long and confining interplanetary trip.” However, the director explained, the drawback to women alone in space is that “the gregariousness of the sex is well known. Name one famous woman hermit. Name one who prefers solitaire (except on the ring finger) to a kaffe klatsch.” The Philadelphia Inquirer continued mocking the dangers of female solitude.

Journalists suggested that “A young unmarried woman…may make a fine test pilot for a simulated space ship. But wait until the simulation is gone, and with it all chance of seeing the boy-friend for an indefinite time, and watch the old pioneer spirit evaporate into space.”27 The Air Force feared “adverse publicity” and the ARDC cancelled WISE

before it even got started. According to Weitekamp, its cancellation was due to “postwar

beliefs that women should be protected not shot into space.”28 An article in Look suggested that “many believe that women’s biggest obstacle to being first is our cultural bias against exposing them to hazardous situations.”29

Look and the ARDC were not the only programs open to public debate at the time.

As early as August 1960, the public knew about Lovelace’s testing of women using the

same standards as the Mercury astronauts. At an aeronautical science conference in

Switzerland, Lovelace revealed his testing results. Lovelace referred to his test subjects as

“the First Lady Astronaut Trainees” or FLATs. Life argued that the FLATs proved a

“very important astronautical point: women are as capable as men of enduring the rigors of space flight.” The same article accentuated Cobb’s aeronautical achievements.

Participating in a “tough masculine trade” as a veteran pilot, Cobb completed over 7,500 hours flying numerous planes from crop dusters to B-17s. After passing the seventy-five

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astronaut tests, Cobb “complained less than the Mercury men had….” Lovelace proposed

that women were better equipped for space travel because they ate and drank less, had a lower body mass, used less oxygen, and therefore might be able to go into space in lighter capsules or stay in space longer than men while using the same equipment. Lovelace suggested that women’s “less exposed reproductive system should also give them a higher radiation tolerance.” Spaceflight, the article concluded, would be “coeducational” in the future.30 In the summer of 1961, James Webb even announced Cobb as a

consultant for NASA. The administration swore her in that summer.31 In her home state of Oklahoma, the Daily Oklahoman called Jerrie Cobb a “Space Suffragette.”32

When the press questioned NASA about the training of Cobb as an astronaut, the

administration denied any connection to the program. The administration professed that it

“has never had a plan to put a woman in space, it doesn’t have one today, and it doesn’t

expect to have any in the foreseeable future.” However, NASA emphasized that “women someday will ride spacecraft into orbit around the earth or on missions to the moon or planets.”33 The usage of the word “ride” suggests that NASA saw women in spaceflight

as passengers and not pilots. Space World’s Donald Cox wrote sarcastically that if NASA

allowed psychiatrists to run the astronaut program, they would bypass the “normal

American male” as space travelers in favor of “schizophrenics, extreme introverts,

Eskimos, aborigines…and even women!” Cox suggested that the “biggest initial obstacle

to an accelerated ‘astranette’ program still to be overcome is the cultural bias of

American men against exposing their women to the hazards of spaceflight.”34 On the

other hand, science fiction glorified the sex appeal that women might bring to space. In

Doris Wishman and Raymond Phelan’s 1961 sexploitation, “Nude on the Moon,” female

sex goddesses awaited eagerly their discovery by man. In the film, two scientists build a

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rocket and fly to the moon only to discover that the tropical forests and golden nuggets of the moon are ruled by a colony of topless women.35

After the media attention surrounding Cobb and Look magazine’s women in space

program, NASA received a barrage of letters from women and concerned citizens pertaining to the use of women as astronauts. At the same time, NASA instructed that all management manuals contain an Equal Employment Opportunity for Women statement as written in the President’s commission on the Status of Women. Within the statement

Kennedy declared, “Women are entitled to equality of opportunity for employment in

Government and in industry. But a mere statement supporting equality of opportunity must be implemented by affirmative steps to see that doors are really open for training,

selection, advancement, and equal pay.” At the end of the memorandum, the

administrator of NASA, James Webb, wrote “I support fully the President’s efforts. It is

my intention to take positive steps to ensure equal opportunity….”36 However, equality in

NASA did not necessarily pertain to spaceflight.

In September 1961, Lovelace sent a request to the Pentagon asking for permission

to use the Naval School of Aviation Medicine in Pensacola, Florida. He wished to

continue testing the FLATs to find differences between men and women in spaceflight.

The request read, “Request authority for civilian Miss Jerrie Cobb to fly in Naval aircraft for the purpose of base-line studies to determine the fundamental differences between male and female astronauts.” The Chief of Naval Operations replied to the request, “If you don’t know the differences already, we refuse to put money into the project.”37

Despite the sarcasm, the deputy chief of naval operations (air), Vice Admiral Robert B.

Pirie, had already been conversing with the powerful Cochran on the matter since the

previous August. Pirie was aware of Lovelace’s plans to use the Pensacola base for jet

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test exercises. He contacted NASA to see if the organization had a specific request to use

the base for training female astronauts. NASA responded that they had not. Without the

backing of federal funds from NASA, according to Weitekamp, Pirie was not about to

use his men and planes for the exercises, especially without reimbursement.38

Cobb was livid and eagerly wrote letters to NASA and congressional leaders

protesting the cancelation. On 15 March 1962, Vice President Johnson instructed NASA

director James Webb in a memo “I’m sure you agree that sex should not be a reason for

disqualifying a candidate for orbital flight.” Privately, Johnson handwrote a note to Webb

instructing the director: “Let’s stop this now!” As Johnson understood the NASA

qualifications, the candidate had to have piloted a high speed military jet and earned an

engineering degree which gave the astronaut the ability to take over the controls of the

capsule. Johnson ended the letter with “I know we both are grateful for the desire to serve

on the part of these women, and look forward to the time when they can.”39

In accordance with Johnson’s order, and Cobb’s persistent correspondence,

between 17 and 18 July 1962 a special Subcommittee of the House Committee on

Science and Astronautics convened to investigate alleged discrimination in employment within NASA. Victor Anfuso (D-NY) chaired the eleven-member special subcommittee.

Two women served on the subcommittee. They were Jessica McCullough Weis (R-NY) and Corinne Boyd Riley (D-SC). According to Martha Ackmann in The Mercury 13: The

True Story of Thirteen Women and the Dream of Spaceflight (2003) Riley began serving in Congress three months prior to the subcommittee hearing and had little knowledge of the space program.40

In the official report of the subcommittee hearing, the opening remarks by Anfuso

suggested a paradox of women’s role in spaceflight. Anfuso made it clear that the Space

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Race should be open to both men and women, utilizing “all human resources” available.

However, he also highlighted the clear delineation of male and female spheres during the

Cold War in his opening remarks. While introducing flier Janey Hart he referred to her as

Mrs. Philip Hart, wife of Senator Philip A. Hart of Michigan, touting her as not only a

“famed pilot” but an “outstanding wife and mother.” The marital statuses and children of the expert witnesses, Carpenter and Glenn, are also within the subcommittee hearings.

However, no one pointed out their excellence and ability as fathers. Instead, the subcommittee simply referred to the men as “Americans of heroic stature, of whom nothing further need be said.”41

Cobb spoke first before the subcommittee. According to Weitekamp, Cobb wrote

a note to herself before her testimony that read “Never apologize, no timidity, in

control.”42 Cobb told the committee that she did not want to enter into a “battle of the sexes.” Rather, she desired “a place in our Nation’s space future without discrimination.”

Cobb explained that “as citizens of this nation” the women wanted “to be allowed to participate with seriousness and sincerity in the making of history now, as women have in the past.” Since her testimony occurred before the flight of cosmonaut Tereshkova, Cobb carefully constructed her words as to fit within the present dialogue of manned spaceflight. She used the term “first” to suggest not only the prowess of the United States in the Space Race, but also to suggest, like those before her, that “Now we who aspire to bring glory to our Nation by an American woman becoming first in all the world to make a spaceflight. No nation has yet sent a human female into space.” The United States did not appear willing to shoot a woman into space due to their cultural roles of man as the protector and woman as the protected. The testimony at the subcommittee reflected these parameters.43

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Hart spoke next. She demanded that NASA should not “be restricted to men only, like some sort of stag club.” However, for Hart, much like for Cobb, it was not simply that women should become astronauts to avoid sex discrimination. Hart argued that women should be admitted into the astronaut corps because they “have a real contribution to make.” Hart attempted to subdue her passion for women astronauts by playing into

Cold War rhetoric of women needing assistance from men. She suggested: “But happily for the Nation, there have always been men, men like the members of this committee, who have helped women succeed in roles that they were previously thought incapable of handling.” Hart drew upon images of war to make her point. She suggested that using women as nurses in war hospitals one hundred years ago would have been unthinkable because women’s “frail and emotional structure.” Hart argued that men proposed that unattractive women be used in field hospitals because these women possessed “more strength of character.” Hart continued, “It seems to me a basic error in American thought that the only time women are allowed to make a full contribution to a better nation is when there is a manpower shortage….” She asked the committee: “why must we handicap ourselves with the idea that every woman’s place is in the kitchen despite what her talents and capabilities might be?” Hart believed women should be given the opportunity to choose whether being a housewife was enough, or whether or not her talents would be useful elsewhere. Women, like men, should have control over their own identity.44

Hart again suggested that a woman in space benefited both men and women.

Allowing the Lovelace program to continue would “provide valuable data.” Instead of

leaving out women whose talent would only benefit the nation, it would “encourage more talented young women to enter the specialized fields relating to space engineering…. I

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think it would open to the Nation a great new reservoir of ability and enthusiasm.” Hart

reiterated that she did not want to discourage women from being housewives, she did not

want to be another Susan B. Anthony, nor did she want to “downgrade the feminine role

of wife, mother, and homemaker.” Instead, by playing upon the masculine rhetoric of the

Space Race, she highlighted that using women in space was necessary to the nation’s

national security. She warned: “I just think we would be making a serious mistake if we

assumed that women just have no contribution to make to space exploration.” Her

statements fell upon deaf ears. Taking Hart’s testimony out of context, Representative

Anfuso asked: “Would you go so far, Mrs. Hart, that anything man can do, woman can do better?” Hart replied, “No, sir, I would not.”45

After Hart, Cobb continued answering questions. Cobb implored that women

deserved to be proactive actors in space exploration as opposed to passive actors. She

proposed that scientifically women might be better equipped for spaceflight. Cobb

indicated that scientific evidence existed that women weighed less and consumed less than men, thereby making it cheaper for women to go into space. She also suggested that women were less prone to heart attacks and radiation “because of the way the good lord constructed them.” Lovelace argued previously that women were less susceptible to radiation because their reproductive organs were inside the body. She went on to propose that women were less susceptible to heat, cold, monotony, loneliness, and pain.46 When

questioned whether or not she was aware that NASA required women to be jet test pilots,

Cobb answered: “Some of us have worked as test pilots, but it is impossible for a woman

in this country to be a jet test pilot because there are no women pilots in the military

services and the test pilot schools are operated solely by the military services.”47

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However, Cobb made sure to point out that most of Lovelace’s women had twice the amount of flying hours as the male astronauts. To this, Representative Joseph E.

Karth (D-MN) asked Cobb: “There is a considerable difference between straight flying— commercial or private—and test piloting; isn’t there?” Cobb responded that “there is

‘equivalent experience’ in flying that may be even more important in piloting a spacecraft. Pilots with thousands of hours flying time would not have lived so long without coping emergencies calling for microsecond reactions.”48

Cobb believed the jet test piloting requirement to be the biggest flaw of NASA’s astronaut prerequisites. When asked whether she thought the requirement was essential,

Cobb responded: “I personally do not feel it is essential at all. It is a means to an end, but it is certainly not the end itself. An astronaut must pilot a spacecraft—not test jet fighters.” Karth interrupted, again suggesting there was a big difference between “straight piloting” and “test piloting.” Cobb responded that what was needed to fly in a spacecraft was “flawless judgment, fast reaction, and the ability to transmit that to proper control of the craft.” Cobb added that some of the women “have 8,000 to 10,000 [flying] hours— have flown a million miles in all types of airplanes—this is the hard way to acquire that experience….” Turning the hearing into a battle of the sexes, Fulton posed to Cobb: “Are the women just as competent or are they better than the men?”

Cobb skirted the questions, again reiterating that women could not be jet test pilots in the United States. To this, Fulton asked: “Given the same planes that are generally available and the same number of hours, how does the safety record of woman pilots compare with that of the men?” Cobb responded that she was not sure if any study had ever been conducted. However, safety did not depend upon if you were male or female. It depended upon whether or not you were a safe pilot. Hart responded that in the

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past seventeen years, each year there is a transcontinental air race of more than one hundred and one female participants. No fatalities had occurred in the past seventeen years. Fulton interjected. He advised that The National Safety Council had statistics that suggested women were safer pilots and automobile drivers. Anfuso asked: “Do you believe that the recognized hazards in such a feat and the possible worldwide repercussions to our prestige are worth the risk and expense for us to achieve that objective of trying to put the first woman in space?” Cobb gave the affirmative: “I very definitely do—very strongly do.”49

Representative J. Edward Roush (D-IN) did not appear convinced. He brought the

hearing back to the topic of women as the weaker sex. Space journalists and politicians

acclaimed the astronauts’ emotional control. Roush alleged that Cobb lacked emotional

control. The representative asked:

Miss Cobb, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between you and Mr. Anfuso prior to the hearing and during that course of the conversation you said….. ‘I am scared to death.’ How do you reconcile this emotional statement with the fact that an astronaut must be fearless and courageous and emotionally stable?50 Cobb replied: “Going up into space couldn’t be near as frightening as sitting here.” Her

response incited laughter from the panel.

After discussing the cancelation of the Pensacola tests, Fulton asked if the

cancellation was because “the men [NASA] thought the women were too

successful?”Again, this elicited laughter from the subcommittee and the audience of

reporters. When asked if she thought she personally was qualified to go into space, Cobb

answered that while she had passed astronaut testing, she had yet to endure astronaut

training. The panel inquired if she wanted to incorporate women into the existing

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astronaut program, or start a parallel program. Cobb responded that she did not think

there needed to be a separate program, nor did they need to interfere with the present

program. Rather, women should be “inserted” into the existing program when they have

successfully passed all the astronaut tests.51

The next day, Jackie Cochran spoke with committee. To Cobb and Hart, she turned on the very women she once helped fund for the FLATs program. Within the first

few moments of her testimony, she proposed that there was not any discrimination within

the astronaut program. Much like Cobb and Hart, Cochran also used the rhetoric of

national security to make her case. She argued:

The manned spaceflights are extremely expensive and also urgent in the national interests and therefore in selecting astronauts it was natural and proper to sit [sic] them from the group of male pilots who had already proven by aircraft testing and high-speed precision flying that they were experience [sic], competent, and qualified to meet possible emergencies in a new environment.52 Cochran did not think that the sex of a candidate should be the determining factor for

spaceflight. She was more concerned with whether or not the inclusion of women into the

program would “speed up, slow down, make more expensive, or complicate the schedule of exploratory space flights” of which the country is already engaged.53 To this end,

Cochran also suggested that there was no need for female astronauts because the country

already had enough well qualified astronauts to undertake the future spaceflights.

Anfuso asked her to expand upon her comment that it would be too expensive to

train women. Cochran replied that she drew her knowledge from her experiences with the

WASPs. However, she could affirm that the WASPs had a high “attrition rate…due to

marriage…. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 percent.” Cochran acknowledged that

women flew every type of military aircraft, and with less accidents than the men.

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However, she brought her testimony back to the women and pregnancy suggesting that in her fourteen years as director of an airline, she could confidently say that the reason women were not even civilian airline pilots was because it cost around fifty thousand dollars “to check a pilot out on a 707 or Convair 880. That is expensive if you lose them through marriage.” She emphasized the importance of gender roles suggesting: “I think first and foremost no one is successful unless they are first a woman and first a man and have all of the instincts and desires of the two sexes.”54

Anfuso asked if women should be trained as test jet pilots. Cochran responded

that it would be too expensive. She alleged that in 1956 it cost $144,000 to train a B-47

pilot. Cochran warned that “to spend that type of money, and take a chance that about the

time we are ready to use that person, she starts a family, then, I am all for it, but I am against waste, because I don’t think we can afford it.” Anfuso asked if NASA should start training women as crewmembers. Cochran replied in the affirmative. Not one of the members on the subcommittee asked, nor did Cochran offer, how much it cost the government to train a crewmember.55

Representative Roush pointed out that “most” of the women in Lovelace’s

program were in their thirties, and the astronauts were also in their thirties and early forties. Roush asked Cochran, “It would seem to me that from this group that the attrition rate would not be quite so high.” Cochran smartly retorted: “A very good friend of mine, age 42, just had triplets—so I don’t know.”56 She argued that women should not become

astronauts because they were “handicapped by extra curricular [sic] complications, such as motherhood.”57 Cochran said that training an astronaut was expensive, and that the

money, time, and effort would be wasted if the astronaut gave up the launching pad for

the delivery room.58 The Lima News article, “House Subcommittee Airs Pregnant

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Astronauts,” sided with Cochran. The author stated that, “women [should] be trained as

space crew members, rather than as pilots.”59 According to the paper, the women should

not fly.

In her autobiography, Cochran conveyed a different story. She believed that while

NASA was “discriminating” they did not discriminate directly against women. They

discriminated only against those who did not have jet test piloting experience. Cochran

was adamant that she was the only female who possessed such experience. Cochran suggested that NASA also discriminated against those without engineering degrees and those who were over the age limit. Cochran wrote, “Women were not eliminated because they were women, by any means, and I told the investigating committee so.”60 Her

testimony suggested otherwise.

When Representative James C. Corman (D-CA) asked her if marriage would

“eliminate all women from all professions” Cochran stated no. However, to her, flying

was different. If a woman left for a year to get married or have a baby, “you lose a whole

year, as fast as we move, your [sic] practically have to start over.” While Cochran said

that you “cannot compare that to a normal job,” she advised that jobs as technicians or in

the field of medicine would also be hindered by a woman leaving for a year or so as she

would be way behind in the technology when she returned. Representative Ken Hechler

(D-WV) pointed out that three of the twelve women who passed the Lovelace tests were

married and their marriage did not seem to affect their training. Cochran replied, “No. I

didn’t say it did.” However, she added, “if you initiate a program I say you are going to

lose, if the WASP program is any criteria—that is all I have to go by—a great many

through marriage, who are pretty soon producing their families.” Cochran did not want to

seem anti-woman and added, “I think that I have proved that I am interested in women

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having a chance at this, but I think it should be done, and can’t overstress it, in a very careful and well-planned fashion across the board.”61

Representative R. Walter Riehlman (D-NY) asked her what percentage of the

WASPs “washed out.” Cochran replied that even though 20 years had passed since she was familiar with the numbers, she believed them to be “just a fraction under 40 percent.”

In current military trends, she believed the attrition rate “runs higher today in the armed services.” She continued to speculate that the attrition rate of the women “paralleled that of the men.” If this was true, then men and women both dropped out of flying at the same rate. Why, then, would it be riskier and more costly to have a women’s astronaut corps?

No one asked this of Cochran nor did Cochran suggest any reasons.62

Representative Fulton pressed Cochran on the issue of women within the military

services. Cochran affirmed that she believed women and men could both be trained in the future as scientists aboard space flights. When Fulton asked if she believed women should be accepted into the United States military academies to receive training for the sciences, she replied, “No, sir.” She acknowledged it was a “new era” than when she started the WASPs. However, instead of integrating the academies, she proposed that women join the ROTC or NROTC. As far as when she foresaw the integration of the academies, Cochran answered, “maybe never…. Don’t clutter up the Air Academy with women unless we know we want them. We are different.” Fulton brushed over the statement and asked “I hope you will not take marriage as a disqualification for space.”

Cochran replied, “I would not.” Fulton replied that he certainly hoped not, especially since presently all the astronauts were married. Fulton asked, “So either marriage or children would seem to be an asset for space rather than a defect; wouldn’t it?” Cochran

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retorted, “It would not be an asset while you were having the babies. They didn’t have them, you know.”63

Fulton asked if Cochran thought that with the future Gemini and Apollo projects

that could contain as many as 2 to 5 person crews, women should be allowed as

“assistants.” Cochran replied, that yes, she was not against women being in the program or going into space, they could even be “assistant pilots.” Congressman Fulton told her that her testimony did not suggest she was against women in space. He then continued with a list of women who contributed to the founding of America: Queen Isabella, Queen

Elizabeth, Pocahontas, Molly Pitcher, Sacajawea, and the women who crossed the west in covered wagons along with their husbands. Cochran agreed, but again emphasized that she did not want to see women as astronauts “in a haphazard manner.” Fulton concluded,

“Maybe we men shouldn’t be talking about keeping you out of space. We should be helping you. Women have come to the fore and taken over and performed a magnificent job when men failed.” Cochran concluded her testimony by agreeing that “women can fly as well as men,” however, “we are in a new environment. We are in a new era. Even if we are second in getting a woman into the new environment, it’s better than to take a chance on having women fall flat on their faces.”64

On 18 July, George Low and the NASA astronauts also testified. Low explained

that NASA has chosen the qualification of jet test pilot because “All jet test pilots are

selected and trained to make rapid decisions and take immediate action based upon their

own evaluation of the situation in the presence of high personal risk.” There was also a

“logical reason” explained Low. He told the committee that picking only jet test pilots limited the applicant pool. It was easier to pick from a small number of candidates.

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However, advised Low, “These qualifications are not static but will be reviewed from time to time and are subject to modifications as our space flight experience increases.”65

After Low explained the requirements to become an astronaut, Glenn stepped in

to field questions from the committee. Glenn suggested of the role of the astronaut: “One

of the design criteria we are working on is just where the astronaut is an integral part of

this system, not just a passenger who goes along for the ride, as a biological specimen.

He is an integral working part of it.” Much like media reports of the Mercury flights,

Glenn continued to impart an idea of control of the craft while thwarting any talk of the

feminized term “passenger” in reference to the astronauts. “A lot of the things we had in the past to protect human life in the early missions, will be given over to the control of the astronaut,” explained Glenn, “where his function will not be backed up by automatic systems.... The astronauts’ function is actually then to take over full control….” The need for astronaut control did not necessarily bode well for the future of women in spaceflight.66

When Representative Anfuso asked Glenn if the “psychological adjustment of a test pilot to hazardous flight” was necessary to become an astronaut, Glenn responded, “It certainly is the same type of thing.” Low reiterated Glenn’s statements of manual control of the spaceship. He told the subcommittee, “We all know that in John’s flight, he had trouble with his automatic control system. He had to assess the difficulties then calmly go on the manual system and use it, and use it effectively, under trying conditions.” If the field was so dangerous and mentally taxing as the testimony purports, Representative

Anfuso asked the men why one would want to be a test pilot. Carpenter responded “I think part of it is curiosity, part of it is a need to do something on your own, something new.” Glenn answered, “I think we all aspire to the top of the heap in our particular

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professions because it gives us most control over the future.” The testimony of Carpenter

and Glenn infuriated Cobb.67

The two most important questions the subcommittee asked the two astronauts

concerned the qualifications of jet test piloting and the requirement of an engineering

degree. Representative Jessica A. McCullough Weise (R-NY) stated that even though

Low testified that all jet test piloting was not closed to women, she believed a

“roadblock” existed. Glenn replied regarding this “roadblock,” that “the men go off to

fight the wars and fly the airplanes and come back and help design and build and test

them. The fact that women are not in this field is a fact of our social order.” It was not

NASA’s fault; it was a fact of American gender roles. However, while the NASA requirements on jet test piloting precluded the women, NASA waived the requirement of an engineering degree for the men.68

Fulton asked Glenn: “Colonel Glenn, I understand that the requirement that an

astronaut hold a degree in engineering or in the physical sciences can be waived, and that

in fact this was done for both you and Commander Carpenter. Is that correct?” Glenn

answered: “While I did not have the actual hours at college, I had more than the

equivalency of an engineering degree.” During Glenn’s testimony, Cobb wrote a note and

passed it to Hart. The note read: “Our group, average flying hours, 4500. Male astronauts,

2500. How’s that for jet-test equivalent?” Fulton, chimed in, “On the basis of the

requirements that Mr. Low has stated, obviously Colonel Glenn would have been

eliminated. You wouldn’t have passed, because you don’t have an engineering degree, do

you?” Glenn retorted, “I have one now.” The reasoning behind this was that the main quality NASA looked for when picking astronauts was pilot training that exemplified the

independent frontiersman, not necessarily the scientist. Without a doubt, by 1962, NASA

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made an exception for the degree requirement for the men, but obviously, NASA made

no exceptions on the training qualifications for female astronaut candidates. After hearing

the testimony from the astronauts Fulton retorted, “We can’t look at these methods of

selection and requirements as rigid,” since NASA accepted both Glenn and Carpenter

who also did not hold an advanced degree.69

Representative Anfuso asked Carpenter: “Wouldn’t you say…that you are

protecting women by letting men do the daring first and when the trip to the moon, or any

place else, becomes less hazardous, then we would take the other position: is that your point?” Carpenter said, “No, sir,” NASA wanted the best people for their missions.

Fulton pointed out the gendered sphere that the public image of spaceflight seemed to keep women in. He said, “It is the same old thing cropping up, where men want to protect women and keep them out of the field so that it is kept for men.” Inciting laughter from the audience, Glenn responded, “If we can find any women that demonstrate that they have better qualifications for going into a program than we have going into that program, we would welcome them with open arms.” Glenn ended along the same lines as Cochran.

He argued, “Now, to spend many millions of dollars to additionally qualify other people whom we don’t particularly need, regardless of sex, creed, or color, doesn’t seem right, when we already have these qualified people.”70 The responses given by Carpenter,

Glenn, and Low did not satisfy Fulton. Like Cobb, Fulton advocated that NASA outline a program to include women that did not interfere with the present astronaut program.

In his final words, Anfuso directed the NASA officials to “go back and talk to Mr.

Webb…and come up with some kind of a program so that you can continue to have the

bipartisan support which you have always seen.”71 On 15 July 1962, Anfuso sent a

telegram to the president urging a woman in space program.72As for sex discrimination

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within NASA, the subcommittee found nothing of substance. The subcommittee’s final

report in October 1962 was:

After hearing witnesses, both Government and non- Government, including Astronauts Glenn and Carpenter, the Subcommittee concluded that NASA’s astronaut selection program was basically sound and properly directed, that the highest possible standards should continue to be maintained….73 The subcommittee did add the caveat: “some time in the future consideration should be

given to inaugurating a program of research to determine the advantages to be gained by

utilizing women as astronauts.”74 The Lovelace women were livid. Media reports of the hearing pinned two femininities against one another, the equality now through arguing that women have a contribution to make toward spaceflight, and the more traditional feminist image of Cochran who advocated waiting until the right moment for women to

demand to be part of the new public space of space. In the Chicago Tribune’s “Give Us

Space Role, Women Pilots Urge,” the author Joseph Hearst pins these two feminine

identities against one another. He commented that “Two women pilots today urged that

women be given an opportunity to become astronauts, but a third urged a go-slow

approach.”75

Almost a year after the subcommittee hearings, the Soviets blasted Tereshkova

into space. American media reports from New York to El Paso suggested that the people

of the Soviet Union embraced their female space traveler. Various American newspaper and magazine reports highlighted her femininity. For instance, a 17 June 1963 United

Press International article, entitled “First Cosmonette Darling of Reds,” set Tereshkova apart from her masculine comrades. The article stated that she [Tereshkova] had a

“weakness for spiked heels…. Has beautiful light brown hair, blue eyes, and an oval face

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with dimples.” The article also mentioned her possible engagement to the only bachelor

cosmonaut, Andian Nikolayev. But most importantly, the paper paid particular attention

to her feminine fashion sense. For instance, “she wore a blue woolen suit described as

‘very fashionable’ and white shoes with spiked heels….”76

The same edition of the paper also contained an article entitled “Two Russian

Capsules Whirl around Earth.” As with the other article, the feminine attributes of

Tereshkova were obvious. “Tereshkova…insisted on wearing make-up on her historic mission….” The article claimed that she became the heroine of women all over the world.

Even Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev boasted after her orbit, “Now you see what women are capable of…. I am very proud and feel fatherly pride that it is our girl, a girl from the land of the Soviets that is the first in space….”77A 1963 article in Life entitled

“She Orbits over the Sex Barrier,” noted that twenty-six year old Tereshkova did not even have the flight experience of the thirteen American women who had passed

Lovelace’s physical tests. The article explained, “By American standards her selection might seem a fantastic gamble.” However, this was not the case for Russian space capsules because they were equipped with automatic systems and back up equipment in case of an emergency. In her joint flight with Lt. Colonel Valery Bykovsky in Vostok 5,

Tereshkova logged forty-eight orbits around the Earth. She completed more orbits in space than all the American astronauts put together. The article claimed that NASA’s

“outstanding lack of enthusiasm” meant that an American woman had never been seriously considered as an astronaut.78 The article also highlighted both American and

Soviet gender roles. For instance, in the spread on Tereshkova, the magazine did not show her flying, but rather, in a salon getting primped for her flight.

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The gender stereotyping did not end with Tereshkova’s new hairdo. The 5 July

1963 edition of Life included photographs of Khrushchev standing with the cosmonauts.

Under the photograph was the caption: “Khrushchev Waves a Hand—Five Space Aces

and a Cosmic Queen.” The caption suggested that Tereshkova could not be labeled with

the masculine title of “ace” but rather, more appropriate for her sex, a “queen.”79 In

reporting Tereshkova’s flight, even the New York Times concentrated on her physical

features. For instance, a 17 June 1963 article by Seymour Topping called the twenty-six

year old Tereshkova a “heavy-set parachutist.”80 However, another article that appeared

in the same edition by an unknown author entitled “First Woman in Space Valentina

Vladimirovna Tereshkova” refers to the cosmonaut as a “pleasant-looking, gray eyed,

athletic young woman with wavy, dark blond hair.”81 Despite the reporting of the

physical features of Tereshkova, most articles commented that her flight elicited

tremendous pride in Soviet culture.

Henry Tanner’s article on 17 June 1963 maintained that “Muscovites Glow Over

Space Feat.” People crowded into the streets of Moscow, congratulating each other on

Tereshkova’s success, which not only gave the Soviets the lead over the U.S. in the Space

Race, but also signaled the egalitarianism of Soviet culture. Tanner reported that a woman on the streets cried out, “Now it has actually happened.” In the background of the

Lenin Mausoleum, a group of smiling teens carried signs in gray, blue, and red watercolors. The students painted clouds, rockets, and space ships on the signs and chanted, “To the Moon.” The students picked up a teenage girl with blond hair and hoisted her into the air. In the entrance of the Saint Basil Cathedral a young blond man with an accordion sang an improvised “ode to the spacewoman.” Soldiers in the crowds posed for pictures with their girlfriends and random young women, and police officers

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joked and laughed with the people.82 To the print media, in Moscow it was clearly a day

of celebration. Soviet technology surpassed that of American technology. They Soviets also believed Tereshkova’s flight demonstrated the equality of the sexes in the Soviet

Union. The Soviet press was not shy to point out, “Tereshkova alone remained in space longer than all the American cosmonauts taken together.”83 In the winter of 1962,

President Kennedy acknowledged that “The only area in which Russia excels is in the use of her women.”84 Some Americans, however, were not laughing.

According to the New York Times, Tereshkova’s feat tied the U.S.-Soviet space

achievements to an even 6-6.85 In June 1963, writer, philanthropist, former Republican

representative of Connecticut and ambassador to Italy, Clare Booth Luce, wrote, “But

Some People Simply Never Get the Message.” The Life article chastised politicians and

NASA officials for suggesting that Tereshkova’s flight was a publicity stunt. She quoted

astronaut Glenn as stating, “‘so far we felt the qualifications we were looking for…were

best taken care of by men.’” Luce quoted New York Times reporter, Harold M. Schmeck

Jr. as trying to lighten the mood by suggesting:

If space exploration continues to grow…women are considered likely to play a part in it over the long range…but there appears to be no hard evidence that female physiology or psychology would confer any special advantages on a woman space traveler.86 Luce did not believe that any of these men came to the right answer of why the

Russians sent Tereshkova into space. She wrote that Americans’ preoccupation with

“sexiness” led these popular men to assume that her flight was a stunt because, in the

United States, sex sells. However, Luce suggested that communist ideology presented the right answer. She wrote that since the revolution in 1917, Soviet Russia “has tried to practice the inherent equality of men and women.” Luce used “statistics” from the Soviet

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Union in an attempt to show how women had progressed. In 1917, Russia had six hundred women engineers, but by 1961, there were 379,000, approximately thirty-one percent of all engineers. Fifty-three percent of the professionals in the Soviet Union in

1961 were women. Seventy-four percent of their medical field was female. In 1962, the

Soviets had 332,400 female physicians, while the American Medical Association reported only 14,000 in the United States. Luce applauded the Soviet Union’s utilization of women in the professions for both their “brain power” and their physical strength in jobs such as cement mixing, driving buses, sweeping streets, pitching hay, and of course, cosmonaut.87

Luce considered the astronauts to be the most popular hero of a nation. Americans

adored and respected the astronaut because he possessed “high technical skills and even

higher virtues of intelligence, endurance, resourcefulness, discipline, courage, and the

capacity to make life-and-death decisions.” Not only did he possess these superhuman

attributes but, as Kennedy would have advocated, “he [the astronaut] is the symbol of the way of life of his nation.” In entrusting a twenty-six year old girl with a cosmonaut mission, “the Soviet Union has given its women unmistakable proof that it believes them to possess these same virtues.” Luce believed that Tereshkova was “symbolic of the emancipation of the Communist woman. Her flight symbolizes to Russian women that they actively share (not passively bask, like American women) in the glory of conquering space.” Luce’s belief that Tereshkova’s flight represented the equality of the sexes in the

Soviet Union was grossly misguided; however she echoed the arguments that the astronauts represented the epitome of American masculinity. Within this symbol, women were not necessary. This myth of the male astronaut helped create NASA as a masculine sphere. Tereshkova’s flight caused men and women to dance in the streets of Moscow. In

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the United States the thought of sending Jerrie Cobb into space became a battle between

the sexes.88

In February 1964, NASA training officer, industrial psychologist Robert Voas,

gave a speech to the New York City YMCA on the topic of women in space. He noted

that in 1964 NASA employed five-hundred-and-eighty women at the Manned Spacecraft

Center in Houston, Texas. These women worked as nurses, physiologists, “calculators,”

who plotted orbital trajectories by hand, and artists who painted the space capsules. Two

women even worked as senior NASA astronomy scientists. However, Webb ordered

Voas to quell the frustration over possible sex discrimination in NASA. Voas stated that

he was “rather unimpressed with the technical importance of putting women into space.”

He insisted that women’s ability to withstand isolation better than men no longer

mattered, because men had discovered just how exciting space travel was. Voas then

joked that if a woman were to fly into space, she would have to leave her purse behind to lower the weight. He mocked that overweight women should be sent into space so they could go on a diet. He told the crowd at the YMCA that there was no benefit in sending a woman, only risks from launching someone unqualified. He ended his speech by saying,

“I think we all look forward to the time when women will be part of our space flight team for when this time arrives, it will mean that man will really have found a home in space— for the woman is the personification of the home.” What Voas was really saying was that when the masculine men had made the “battlefield” of space safe, women could fully participate in the space program. Like earlier reports of women’s role in spaceflight,

Voas’s speech championed women in the domesticated realm of American life.89

Not only did the U.S. administration clearly not want to risk the lives of women in

this war for space, but the very doctors who administered the tests on the women at the

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Lovelace Foundation turned against them. While the successful launch of Shepherd into space rendered women’s lower weight and smaller size irrelevant, doctors suggested that they found scientific “evidence” for the exclusion of women in space. According to

Weitekamp, the only “scientific” article that appeared on the subject was in the February

1964 edition of the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology. Two Lovelace foundation doctors, Johnnie R. Betson Jr. and Robert R. Secrest, wrote a four-page article entitled “Prospective Women Astronauts Selection Program: Rationale and Comments.”

The article argued that women’s menstrual cycles compromised their ability to go to space. Further tests would have to be conducted during “the entire menstrual cycle.”

Their reasoning for this was that, “mental illness is higher, crime rate increases, and there are more attempted and successful suicides just prior to and during the menstrual flow.”

The doctors finally concluded, “Menstruation may complicate the use of the female astronaut in an environment of time tables and rigid schedules needed for a perfectly manned space voyage.”90 There is no evidence suggesting the doctors’ motivations.

However, Weitekamp speculates that in 1964 the two doctors “worried that women’s physiology would not prove reliable enough for programmed space launches.”91

Women’s menstrual cycles and physiology represented a complete lack of control.

Women were prone to hysteria. The inability of women to control their emotions or

bodies impeded women’s ability to fly into space. Men exerted masculinity through their

control over women’s sexuality.

The Soviet Union continued to press the dialogue of women as both flyers and

space travelers. In August of 1964, American newspapers speculated that the Soviets

would orbit another female cosmonaut. The American press reported that the candidate

was famed Soviet Air Force military test pilot, and wife of cosmonaut Pavel Popovich,

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Marina Popovich. In 12 August 1962, Popovich commanded Vostok 4. In August 1964, the Moscow UPI and Soviet government newspaper Izvestia leaked the possible names of the cosmonauts for the first Voskhod flight. The press speculated that the flight was scheduled for the following October.92 According to Soviet space historian, Asif A.

Siddiqi, Marina was supposed to be the first female cosmonaut in space, but at the last minute, Tereshkova was chosen in her place.93 The idea that not only would a husband

and wife cosmonaut team fly into space, but also a female military test pilot, attracted front page headlines within the American press. On 11 August, Elyria, Ohio displayed a picture of Marina, “holder of a Soviet aircraft speed record,” whose husband informed the press that his wife “is now familiarizing herself with a ‘considerably more powerful’ machine.”94 News outlets carrying the story emphasized that Marina had recently

completed a new Soviet flying record, but they failed to portray her as an individual.

Instead, papers emphasized Marina’s marriage to Popovich.95

By 15 October, American newspapers commented that unfortunately for this

“slim, long-haired Russian girl,” Marina, this would be a second time that “history” was

“passing her by.” The paper reported that three men would make the first Voskhod flight.

Apparently, “it is looking less and less like a woman’s world, even in space.” The article

did not stop there, even suggesting that Tereshkova did not go into space for her “talent”

but rather because “the Russians sought the prestige of having the Eve as well as the

Adam—Yuri Gagarin—of space.” The paper reported the Soviet press as suggesting that at a future date they may send another female space traveler into space, but they would do so because she had “talent” not solely because she was a woman.96

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Conclusion The United States left the dangerous duty of blasting into space to the male jet test pilots. The mission of the American Space Race was clear. The race was not only a way to depict American superiority in technology, but within the public discourse, the race also symbolized the importance of American masculinity. American astronauts performed masculinity through control of the space capsule. Women performed femininity by awaiting the astronauts’ return. American spaceflight demanded traditional

Cold War familial roles of man as the warrior in space while the woman was left home.

Within the public sphere, Cold War masculinity of rugged individualism and control was not for women.

As NASA transitioned into Gemini space remained a masculine sphere. Space journalists, politicians, and astronauts continued to place the utmost importance on astronaut Cold War masculinity. However, NASA refashioned the image of the space flyer when it inducted “scientist-astronauts” into the astronaut fraternity. Scientists and engineers as space flyers raised questions concerning the role of the American astronaut and his control over his capsule. Fears of the scientist-astronaut not only changing the masculine image of space, but also challenging American “firsts” of astronaut control permeated the institution through much of Gemini. Meanwhile, space journalists continued publicizing its “firsts” of astronaut control of space.

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1. Dr. Wernher von Braun speech to Mississippi State College, November 19, 1962. Special Collections, John Stennis Collection, Series 46, Box. 88, Folder # 11/19. Found at the Congressional and Political Research Center, University Archives, Mitchell Memorial Library, Mississippi State University.

2. See May, Homeward Bound.

3. Ruth Oldenziel, Making Technology Masculine: Men, Women, and Modern Machines in America, 1870-1945 (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1999), 31, 112. See also her chapter “Beginning for the Fraternity,” 91-116 and her discussion of the American masculinization of engineering by such men as Rossiter W. Raymond, president of the American Institute of Mining Engineers (AIME), Abrams S. Hewitt, president of Cambria Iron Works, and John Fritz, president of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers.

4. Margaret W. Rossiter, Women Scientists In America: Before Affirmative Action, 1940- 1972 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), xv, xvi.

5. Alice S. Rossi, “Barriers to the Career Choice of Engineering, Medicine, or Science among American Women,” in Women and the Scientific Professions: The M.I.T. Symposium on American Women in Science and Engineering, ed. Jacqueline A. Mattfeld and Carol G. Van Aken (Westport, C.T.: Greenwood Press, Publishers, 1965), 97-98. Rossi points out that it is not known whether or not men would be accepting of women in the profession. Rather it is society’s image that keeps women at bay.

6. National Aeronautics and Space Administration, “Solar System Exploration, Nancy Roman” http://solarsystem.nasa.gov/people/profile.cfm?Code=RomanN (accessed November 17, 2011). Roman’s resume is a link on the website. See also, Kim McQuaid, “‘Racism Sexism, and Space Ventures”: Civil Rights at NASA in the Nixon Era and Beyond,” in Societal Impact of Spaceflight, ed. Steven Dick and Roger D. Launius, 447, 431.

7. The first astronaut wives were introduced by Life magazine in September 1959. The women appeared on the front cover under the headline “Astronauts’ Wives; Their Inner Thoughts, Worries.” See also, Anna Glenn et al, “Seven Brave Women Behind the Astronauts; Spacemen’s Wives Tell of their Inner Thoughts and Worries,” Life, September 21, 1959, 142-163. To note, the only bachelor astronauts at the time were John Leonard “Jack” Swigert Jr., and Major Clifton Curtis “C.C.” Williams. Swigert went on to fame in the infamous flight of Apollo 13 and unfortunately, Williams died when his T- 38 crashed outside Mobile, A.L. on 5 October 1967. Before his death, Williams did marry Jane Elizabeth Lansche in June 1964.

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8. Marie Lathers, “‘No Official Requirement’: Women, History, Time, and the U.S. Space Program,” Feminist Studies 35, no. 1 (Spring 2009): 14-40, 16, 17, 15, 30.

9. Leslie Haynsworth and David Toomey, Amelia Earhart’s Daughters: The Wild and Glorious Story of American Women Aviators from World War II to the Dawn of the Space Age (New York: Perennial, 1998), 10.

10. Joseph J. Corn, The Winged Gospel: America’s Romance with Aviation, 1900-1950 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983), 76.

11. Ibid., 11.

12. “A Round—The –World Flight Ends in the Pacific,” Life, July 19, 1937, 21-25.

13. Kathleen Morgan Barry, Femininity and Flight: A History of Flight Attendants (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2007), 1-59.

14. Molly Merryman, Clipped Wings: The Rise and Fall of the Woman Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS) of World War II (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 5.

15. Byrd H. Granger, On Final Approach: The Women Air Force Service Pilots of World War II (Kingwood, T.X.: Falcon Publishing Company, 1991), 70-120. See also, Jean Hascall Cole, Women Pilots of World War II (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1992) and Marianne Verges, On Silver Wings: The Women Airforce Service Pilots of World War II (New York: Ballantine Books, 1991).

16. “Girl Pilots: Air Force Trains Them at Avenger Field, Texas,” Life, July 19, 1943, 73, 75, 73.

17. D’Ann Campbell, “Women in Combat: The World War II Experience in the United States, Great Britain, Germany, and the Soviet Union,” The Journal of Military History 57 (April 1993): 301, 321, 320. The disdain for female service members is well documented in both Leisa D. Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II; and Mattie Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps.

18. Amy Goodpaster Strebe, Flying for Her Country: The American and Soviet Women Military Pilots of World War II (Westport, C.T.: Praeger, 2007), 1.

19. Haynsworth and Toomey, Amelia Earhart’s Daughters, 146-147.

20. Agnes E. Meyer, “Woman Aren’t Men,” Atlantic Monthly 186 (1950): 32-33. Agnes E. Meyer wrote the article in conjunction with the National Citizens Commission for the Public Schools, the President’s Commission on Higher Education, and the Mid-Century White House Child Conference. See also, Sara M. Evans, Born for Liberty: A History of 175

Women in America (New York: Free Press Paperbacks, 1997), 246 and Alice S. Rossi, “Barriers to the Career Choice of Engineering, Medicine, or Science among American Women,” 105-106. 21. Alice Thompson, “How to Be a Woman,” Seventeen, July 1951, 106. See also, Evans, Born for Liberty, 246.

22. Campbell, “Women in Combat,” 302.

23. “A Mrs. in the Missile?” Los Angeles Times, September 7, 1958, 12, Impact Series, “Women in Space II: Early 1960s file” NASA HQ.

24. “Astronauts’ Aide?” Washington Post, April 30, 1959, Impact Series, “Women in Space file 008998,” NASA HQ.

25. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 73, 63.

26. Ibid., 65-69; See also, Allison M. Martin, “Guinea Pigs, Grounded Pilots: The Thirteen Women Who Wanted to Touch the Stars,” Association for Women in Science (AWIS) Magazine (Spring 2006): 8.

27. “Woman Space Pioneer,” Philadelphia Inquirer, January 15, 1959, Impact Series, “Women: Mercury Astronauts file,” NASA HQ.

28. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 75.

29. Ibid; See also, “The Lady Wants to Orbit,” Look, February 2, 1960, 113.

30. “A Lady Proves She’s Fit For Space Flight.” Life, August 29, 1960, 73, 74; See also, Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 67.

31. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 3.

32. “Space Suffragette,” Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City), July 17, 1962, Impact Series, “Women: Mercury Astronauts file,” NASA HQ.

33. Donald Cox, “NASA Refutes Space Girl Story,” New York World Telegram, September 29, 1960, “Women: Mercury Astronauts file,” NASA HQ. To note, while NASA proclaimed no connection to Cobb, Cobb did work as a consultant to NASA.

34. Donald Cox, “Woman Astronauts: Dubbed ‘Astranettes,’ A Team of Women Pilots is Now in Training for Space Flight,” Space World 1, no. 10, 37, 58-60.

35. “Nude on the Moon” advertisement in San Francisco Newspaper, 1962, NASA HQ. See also, Nude on the Moon, directed by Raymond Phelan and Doris Wishman, J.E.R. Pictures Inc., 1961. The movie can be viewed on YouTube, 176

http://www.youtube.com/movie?v=DEfv5mPcAt8&feature=mv_sr (accessed December 10, 2010).

36. “Administrator’s Memorandum on Equal Employment Opportunity for Women, Impact Series, “Women in Space II: Early 1960s files,” NASA HQ.

37. “Vive la difference!” Popular Mechanics, October 1963, 24. The quote can also be found in Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 111.

38. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 126-127.

39. Copy of a series of memos to Vice President Johnson on a request to meet with him from Mrs. Philip A. Hart and Miss Jerrie Cobb. Copied by James Osberg at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, to Roger Launius and Margaret A. Weitekamp. Found in the Impact Series, “Women: Mercury Astronauts file,” NASA HQ.

40. Martha Ackmann, The Mercury 13: The True Story of Thirteen Women and the Dream of Space Flight (New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003), 150.

41. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 1, 39.

42. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex,155.

43. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 5.

44. Ibid., 7.

45. Ibid., 8-10.

46. Jerrie Cobb with Jane Rieker, Woman into Space: The Jerrie Cobb Story (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1963), 215. See also, Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 5; Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 147.

47. Cobb, Woman into Space, 216.

48. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 12- 13.

49. Ibid., 13-16.

50. Ibid., 18.

51. Ibid., 17-22.

52. Ibid., 23.

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53. Ibid.

54. Ibid., 24, 27, 28. 55. Ibid., 29.

56. Ibid., 32.

57. Washington (UPI), 28 “House Subcommittee Airs Pregnant Astronauts,” Lima News, July 18, 1962, 28.

58. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 36-37.

59. “House Subcommittee Airs Pregnant Astronauts,” Lima News, 28.

60. Jacqueline Cochran and Maryann Bucknum Brinley, Jackie Cochran: An Autobiography (New York: Bantam Books, 1987), 318.

61. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 33-34. It should be noted that while Representative Ken Hechler is in the testimony of the subcommittee hearing, he is not mentioned as officially being on the subcommittee, although he did served on the Committee for Science and Astronautics.

62. Ibid., 35. On this same page, Mr. Anfuso jokes at Fulton being the “bachelor” of the committee.

63. Ibid., 35-37.

64. Ibid., 38.

65. Ibid., 45-46.

66. Ibid., 48-49.

67. Ibid., 49, 54, 49.

68. Ibid., 66-67; Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 151.

69. Congress, House, Qualifications for Astronauts: Subcommittee Hearings, 55.

70. Ibid., 55, 74.

71. Ibid., 74.

72. Ackmann, The Mercury 13, 171.

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73. As quoted in Ackmann, The Mercury 13, 171.

74. Ibid. 75. “Joseph Hearst, “Give Us Space Role, Women Pilots Urge,” Chicago Tribune, July 18, 1962, 8.

76. “Cosmonettes a Cutie,” El Paso Herald-Post, June 17, 1963, 14.

77. Ibid.

78. “She Orbits Over the Sex Barrier,” Life, June 28, 1963, 28.

79. “Khrushchev Waves a Hand—Five Space Aces and a Cosmic Queen.” Life, July 5, 1963, 34.

80. Seymour Topping, “Soviet Orbits Woman Astronaut New Bykovsky for Dual Flight; They Talk By Radio, Are Put on TV,” New York Times, June 17, 1963,1.

81. “First Woman in Space Valentina Vladimirovna Tereshkova,” New York Times, June 17, 1963, 8.

82. Henry Tanner, “Muscovites Glow Over Space Feat: Sunday Strollers Smile With Pride as Loudspeakers Blare Word of Flight,” New York Times, June 17, 1963, 1, 13.

83. United States, Senate, Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, “Soviet Space Programs, 1962-1965; Goals and Purposes, Achievements, Plans, and International Implications, December 30, 1966,”49.

84. Copy of a series of memos to Vice President Johnson on a request to meet with him from Mrs. Philip A. Hart and Miss Jerrie Cobb. Copied from James Osberg at the LBJ Library for Roger Launius and Margaret Weitekamp, Impact Series, “Women in Space file” NASA HQ.

85. Topping, “Soviet Orbits Woman Astronaut New Bykovsky for Dual Flight,” New York Times, June 17, 1963, 1.

86. Clare Booth Luce, “But Some People Simply Never Get The Message,” Life, June 28, 1963, 31.

87. Ibid.

88. Ibid.

89. As cited from Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 158-159. The entire speech can be found in the “biographical files; Robert Voas,” NASA HQ. 179

90. Johnnie R. Betson Jr., M.D. and Robert R. Secrest, M.D., “Prospective Women Astronauts Selection Program: Rationale and Comments,” American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology 88 (February 1, 1964): 421-423. See also, Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 165-166.

91. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 166.

92. The Press Courier (Oxnard, California), August 11, 1964, 2; See also, United Press International, “Soviets Hint a Woman May Orbit Earth Soon,” New York Times, August 11, 1964; United Press International, “Reds May Send Another Woman Up Into Space,” Great Bend (Kansas)Tribune, August 11, 1964, 5; NEA Telephoto, “Space Candidate” Fitchburg (Massachusetts) Sentinel, August 12, 1964, 1; United Press International, “Wife of Russian Cosmonaut May Be Next Woman in Space,” The Daily Courier (Connelsville, Pennsylvania), August 13, 1964, 18.

93. Siddiqi, Sputnik and the Soviet Space Challenge.

94. The Chronicle Telegram (Elyria, Ohio), August 11, 1964, 1.

95. Richard H. Growald, “Soviets Hinting Woman May Go Into Space,” Montana Standard (Butte, Montana), August 11, 1964, 2.

96. United Press International, “No Room in Space for this Girl?” European Stars and Stripes (Darmstadt, Germany), October 15, 1964, 4.

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CHAPTER VI

“REFRESHINGLY HUMAN AND WINNING”: CONTROL AND PROJECT GEMINI,

1965-19661

Space journalists and politicians presented the astronauts as the best jet test pilots in the country. However, the professional organization for test pilots, the Society of

Experimental Test Pilots (SETP), questioned the astronauts’ control over the capsule. The

SETP was not convinced that the astronauts did any real flying. The organization believed that the astronaut did not land the craft. The capsule did not even have a window for the astronaut to see where he was “flying.” The SETP argued that there were too many automated systems that the astronaut depended on during his flight. In 1962, the astronauts pled their case to the SETP. They argued that as pilots they controlled their spacecraft. Gus Grissom spoke passionately before the organization, paradoxically claiming that the astronauts were actually passengers in the Mercury capsule. He declared, “‘Until now, man has been a self-experimenting guinea pig.’” Distinguishing between projects Mercury and Gemini, Grissom insisted: “‘The most important difference is the amount of control the pilot exercises over all functions…. Gemini is the first true pilot’s spacecraft.’” The astronaut would no longer be the “spam in a can” that the jet test pilots mocked him to be. Grissom asserted that in Gemini, “‘the test pilot will have stepped into his proper role—the explorer of space.’”2

The following chapter continues to trace the Cold War masculinity within the public image of the astronaut. The narrative of the Gemini astronaut continued along the

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lines of American “firsts” through astronaut, or pilot, control of the space capsule.

However, the astronaut image of the rugged individualist pilot began to change. Scholars

have documented the shift in the image of the astronaut from that of the jet test pilot to

that of the scientist and engineer. However, none have completed a gender analysis of the transition. This chapter asks how the shift from jet test pilot astronaut to scientist- astronaut changed the masculine image of the astronaut.

The chapter argues that the introduction of the scientist-astronaut transformed the

narrative of NASA from courageous feats of lone wolf astronauts to space as a scientific undertaking. The chapter adds to the historiography by suggesting that the image of the scientist-astronaut symbolized the Cold War masculinity crisis within the astronaut image. NASA’s introduction of the hyphenated scientist-astronaut commenced the domestication and routinization of spaceflight. Domestication meant NASA accepted into the astronaut fraternity men of science who did not need to hold previous flight experience, let alone jet test piloting experience. The lowering of the physical requirements to become astronauts took the hypermasculinity out of the public image.

This new astronaut image suggested that spaceflight was no longer dangerous. It was routine.

The pilot astronaut image also confronted newer technology in the Gemini capsule. Computers helped the pilot with calculations, flying, and landing. As commercial aviation shifted focus from the pilot to the passenger, so too did the discourse of spaceflight. The pilot astronaut feared losing his individualism and control over the capsule. Thus, the pilot astronaut image not only represented a superior American masculinity, but at the same time he symbolized the Cold War masculinity crisis. While the image of who could fly shifted, the importance of “firsts” continued.

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Unlike the solo flights of Mercury, in Gemini astronauts flew in teams of two. On

7 December 1961, NASA approved the project. Between 1965 and 1966, NASA flew ten manned Gemini missions. The first two missions, Gemini 1 and Gemini 2, were unmanned spaceflights. On 23 March 1965, the program’s first manned flight commenced with Gemini 3 (The Molly Brown) and ended on 15 November 1966 with

Gemini 12. Like Mercury, the prime contractor for Gemini was McDonnell Aircraft. The associate administrator of manned spaceflight, Dr. George Muller, served as the director for Gemini. Despite print media reports of astronaut control during Project Mercury,

NASA historians agree that Gemini’s purpose was to be the ship to prove man’s ability to actually fly a spacecraft.3 Gemini differed from Mercury in that designers hoped that

further technological achievements for Gemini meant giving the capsule the ability to

have “more human control.” To land the capsule as if it was an airplane or jet, engineers

and astronauts hoped to build a paraglider onto the capsule. However, NASA scratched

the plan after experiencing both economic and technical difficulties. Even though the

pilots could maneuver the capsule during re-entry, like Mercury, they would have to land

in the water.4

Before NASA launched the first manned Gemini missions, from October 12 to 14

October the Soviet Union sent a team of three men into orbit aboard Voskhod 1 (Sunrise).

Aboard the capsule were pilot and flight commander Colonel Vladimir M. Komarow and two non-military pilots, the engineer scientist Konstantin Feoktisv, and medical doctor

Boris Borisovich Yegorov.5 Voskhod 1 represented the ability of non-pilots to go into

space, but in a subordinated role. The Soviets envisioned the engineer and doctor as

passengers, not pilots.6 Interestingly enough, on 19 October 1964, only a week after the

Soviet’s launched Voskhod 1, NASA began recruiting scientist-astronauts.

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The following spring, once again “Gloom descended over the Cape [Kennedy].

The sound of disappointment ranged from profanity to polite and frustrated Pollyanity,” wrote the writers of Time.7 The Soviets had struck again. On 18 March 1965, Cosmonaut

and Soviet fighter pilot, Alexei Leonov, performed the first extra-vehicular activity (EVA or spacewalk) aboard Voskhod 2. Leonov “walked” in space and Pavel Belyayev piloted the capsule. Leonov’s proximity to Voskhod 2 was about fifteen feet when he was outside of the craft. In approximately twelve minutes, he completed four somersaults, a head stand, and filmed his surroundings.8 To make matters more embarrassing for American

technology, engineers estimated that the rocket carrying the Soviets contained about 1.43

million pounds of thrust, about three times that of Gemini’s Titan rocket. The capsule

reached 307 miles of altitude, the highest of any previous Soviet or American capsule.

Unlike previous Soviet capsules that demanded the cosmonaut parachute out of the craft

after the return from space, the Voskhod’s capsule came equipped with a solid-fuel

braking rocket that allowed the Soviets to land the craft.9 Similarly to the American automated systems, Life reported of the faulty Soviet automatic control system. Belyayev

was forced to manually land his craft. However, he did overshoot his mark by hundreds

of miles.10

The UPI reported that international scientists believed that with the scientific

information taken from the EVA, the accomplishment “put the Soviet Union even more

months ahead of the United States in the race for a manned moon landing.”11 TASS

reported that “the target before us now is the moon, and we hope to reach it in no distant

future.”12

However, Americans were skeptical of the walk. Time doubted that Leonov controlled his EVA. The magazine speculated that Leonov’s somersaults were actually

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unintentional. While the Soviet press insisted that Leonov “inspected the outside of

Voskhod II and did useful work,” Newsweek maintained that Leonov failed to “work” outside the capsule. The popular print magazine reported that the video footage of

Leonov’s flight “did not show all these actions [Leonov’s inspection of the capsule], but work is not easy to do in weightless space….Any work Leonov did was probably slight, and he may have inspected the ship by simply pushing off into space and swinging around a little.”13

NASA chief, James Webb, attempted to calm any fears that Americans and the world may have had regarding the feat. Even though the Soviet’s were first with the

EVA, Webb maintained that since the American flights were “not based primarily on propaganda” the American program was superior to the Soviets.14 George Low insisted

that NASA’s manned spaceflight program was already operating at its maximum

capacity. Of the Soviet feat, George P. Miller (D-CA), chairman of the House Space

Committee, remarked that the Soviets did not do anything the United States was not

expecting. Nevertheless, since the Soviets had “gotten ahead of us,” it was time for

Americans to “tighten our belts and get going.”15 Miller’s fears were not alone. Space

pundits and Congressmen believed that with the Soviet’s EVA, the Americans might

need another year to “match the Russians feat.”16

The American print media still viewed the Soviet achievements as “propaganda”

stunts. NASA spaceflights were not for prestige, they were serious business. The

Americans continued to perform their own firsts openly to the world, while the Soviets

conducted their space performances in secret. On 23 March 1965, NASA launched Gus

Grissom and John Young aboard Gemini 3. Newsweek proclaimed that the astronauts

controlled the craft “like jet pilots.”17 The Lawrence Daily Journal-World reported of the

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flight, “Grissom and Young scored a world ‘first’ by actually maneuvering their Molly

Brown through three orbital changes.”18 The Coshocton Tribune in Ohio stated that

Gemini 3 completed a “first” as officials reported “it was the first-spaceship to be steered in flight by either U.S. or Russian pilots.”19 Similarly, the Albuquerque Journal ran an

AP article acclaiming that Grissom and Young “made spaceflight history Tuesday by

skillfully maneuvering their ship…”20 In the 2 April 1965 issue of Life, the magazine

proclaimed, “For the first time, rather than being nearly helpless riders aboard an intractable projectile, the Astronauts really controlled their craft.” The article suggested that Grissom did not reorient the craft once, but rather three times. Grissom’s movements included reducing the oval shaped orbit into a near precise circle, changing the vehicle’s yaw around the earth into a new course, and finally lowering the orbit of the craft.21

Grissom argued “No Astronaut from anywhere had ever performed these maneuvers.”22

A correspondent for the Los Angeles Times reported that Grissom and Young

performed a space first by “maneuvering their capsule through three orbit changes before landing safely.”23 The men were more interested in flying than in the scientific

experiments they performed. Grissom explained, “as test pilots John and I were not quite

as fascinated by sea urchins and sandwiches as we were by the chance to carry out some real ‘firsts’ in space flight [sic].”24 In the Washington Post, journalist Charles Stafford

heralded the dawn of a new era of spaceflight. Paradoxically, Stafford claimed that the

Mercury astronauts did not fly their capsules. He proclaimed that Gemini was the “first true flying machine to enter the space race.”25 An editorial also appearing in the Post

claimed that while “The Russians have shown that homo sapiens can ‘walk’ in space;

Astronauts Virgil Grissom and John Young have confirmed mankind’s ability to ‘fly’ in space.”26

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Not only did journalists proclaim that the Gemini pilots had control of their ship, but they also had the ability to steer the capsule even during the landing. Historian David

Mindell considers the ability to land, “worthy of a pilot’s dignity.”27 After his flight,

Grissom declared that the automated computer told him and Young that they would land

just short of their mark, the aircraft carrier, the USS Intrepid. Therefore, Grissom took

over the controls and flew his own capsule. He remarked that the craft maneuvered almost like an “airplane,” and that he alone “was able to reduce the error considerably.”28

The news that the pilots retained control over the capsule continued to be important

within the public discourse. Even veteran New York Times space journalists, John W.

Finney, wrote that the difference between Mercury and Gemini was that the Gemini

capsule would be “under the control of the astronauts rather than automatic instruments.

In effect, the astronauts will be flying the capsule.”29

However, with Gemini, the astronaut image experienced a shift from the

autonomous pioneer to a two man team. When President Johnson called to congratulate

both Grissom and Young, he said that the feat, “was an impressive testament to the team work of our fine talents…who have worked together so successful on Project Mercury and now on this important first step of Project Gemini.”30 The lone wolf rugged

individualistic astronaut in space was slowly becoming a team member. The public

discourse of the astronaut image was shifting. For instance, in a statement before the

Committee on Science and Astronautics in the House of Representatives, Dr. Dryden, said that when the Wright brothers created the first powered flight, “For a number of years following that flight it was possible for any individual to learn and know all there was to know about aeronautics and airplane design….” However, in the Space Race, with the highly technical knowledge of spacecraft “No member of the team has complete

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knowledge of the final product in all its detail. It has been estimated that over 45,000

scientists and engineers are directly engaged in our greatest space undertakings….”

Dryden’s speech suggested that the astronaut was moving farther and farther away from

rugged individual control. Dryden argued, “The building of modern airplanes, boosters,

and spacecraft require[d] a highly developed concept of team activity and functional

coordination. The team itself must include more kinds of specialists with knowledge of

more scientific fields.”31

On 3 June 1965, the Americans performed their own spacewalk. After Gemini 4’s

fourth orbit, Lt. Col. Edward “Ed” Higgins White Jr. left the capsule. For twenty minutes,

White walked in space at a speed of 17,500 mph. He reported to Mission Control, “‘This

is fun.’”32 His distance from people on earth was a mere one hundred and twenty miles.

The article in Life entitled “The Glorious Walk in the Cosmos” claimed that White’s walk was not a “mere stunt” but rather “a deliberate and methodical test of the techniques which future astronauts may have to use in docking maneuvers and making extraterrestrial emergency repairs.”33 White was attached to the “mother ship” by an

“umbilical cord.” The capsule’s command pilot, Major James Alton McDivitt, helped

White back into the craft. The press had reported cosmonaut Leonov’s spacewalk as

“slowly somersaulting and floating as though in a vast midnight swimming pool,”

connected to the capsule only by a cord. Conversely, the print media reported that White

controlled his direction during his spacewalk.34 Journalists described that White

maneuvered himself to various sides of the craft with his “jet gun.”35 The Chicago Daily

News stated “In some respects, notably his use of a ‘space gun’ for individual propulsion,

he surpassed the Russian achievement….”36

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The West Coast followed suit by printing similar praise of the feat. The

Oregonian maintained: “With astronaut Edward White’s successful space walk and the

Gemini spacecraft zipping along smoothly…the belief that the United States lags behind

the Soviet Union in the space race should be pretty well shattered….” However, the

writers contemplated, “Maybe the chief difference between the U.S. and Russian space programs all along has not been technological superiority, but just a matter of boldness.”37 The writers at Time continued the narrative of astronaut control. They

concluded that when compared to Leonov, White “had much more maneuverability; all

Leonov did was somersault around at the end of a tether, getting dizzy, while White

moved around pretty much at will.” Time congratulated the new “second generation”

astronauts. The magazine underscored the flying ability of the pilots. The authors referred to McDivitt as a “superb pilot and a first-class engineer,” and White as a “daring flyer,

[and] a fine athlete.”38 Newsweek went so far as to proclaim that White’s walk was “the

most dazzling human achievement yet in the space age.” Both Newsweek and Time

compared White’s maneuverability with his “rocket gun” to the famed fictional character

“Buck Rogers.”39

The Western world commended the individual control exercised by White as a

symbol of democratic prowess over the communist system. Stockholm’s Svenska

Dagbladet rejoiced that the American feat proved what an open system can do compared

to the Soviet closed society. The Swedish paper wrote, “‘The fact that the U.S. dares to

expose even its shortcomings, dares to give advance notice, dares to speak the whole truth, is a sign of strength and confidence. But above all, it is so refreshingly human and winning.’” Within the headlines in Latin America, Buenos Aires conservative La Nacion, and their independent Clarin, both “declared flatly that White’s performance had clearly

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surpassed the similar feat of the Soviet Cosmonaut Leonov.”40 London picked up on this

example of American astronaut control as well. The Daily Express reported that while

Russia performed the first spacewalk, Major White walked in space with his own means of propulsion.41

The New York Times remarked that unlike Cosmonaut Leonov, Astronaut White, did not suffer from “disorientation.” After White and McDivitt secured themselves back onto the capsule’s couch, they completed sixty-two orbits of the earth in three and a half days. Gemini 4’s re-entry system broke down forcing McDivitt to manually fire the retro rockets and land the craft.42 They landed fifty-six miles short of their recovery vessel

stationed in the Atlantic, the carrier the USS Wasp. Despite the much anticipated first

American spacewalk, the mission did have one setback. The astronauts and Mission

Control hoped that Gemini 4 would be able to test a rendezvous with a rocket booster in space. Unfortunately, a large amount of Gemini’s fuel burned up too fast during maneuvering, and with low fuel levels, the astronauts were unable to attempt such a feat.43

In sharing their stories with Life, the public discourse of astronaut control was

familiar. However, their own stories remain paradoxical. The astronauts admitted that in

spaceflight the astronaut was not always in control. The complexity of spaceflight also

demanded computerized systems. McDivitt wrote that he was not scared or fearful for his

“personal safety” but rather that if something did not go as planned “all that work [was] for nothing.” McDivitt was not shy to point out when it came to rocket booster’s “You don’t have any control over the booster at launch; you’re really at its mercy.”44 The

astronauts emphasized the need for traits other than piloting ability, especially when it

came to performing a rendezvous with a space booster. The astronauts thought they could

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use their skills as pilots, “keen eyes, stable hands, and cool heads,” to rendezvous with the booster. The astronauts discovered that their piloting skills were not enough.

Computers and equations were necessary to dock with a booster. The astronauts needed the minds of engineers and mathematicians. To aid the astronauts in space, IBM created a powerful new computer with 4,096 words of 39-bit memory. The computer calculated trajectories, attitude, velocity, and the astronaut responded. Mindell argues, “Heroic action now involved not only controlling the spacecraft but also loading code into a digital machine.”45

On 19 August 1965, NASA’s testing of the black and white Martin Titan II rocket that would take Gemini 5 into the heavens failed on the Cape Canaveral launch pad.

Engineers and technicians repaired the rocket. Two days later, during the actual launch, as a French reporter shouted into his radiotelephone “‘L’orange! L’orange!’” the rocket launched perfectly into the New Frontier at a speed of 17,605 miles per hour, making

Gemini 5 the fastest American capsule. The 21 August to 29 August 1965 Gemini 5 mission of command pilot Gordon Cooper, and pilot Charles “Pete” Conrad Jr., had two goals. First, test to see if an astronaut could work eight days in space, and second, test space equipment for possible linkage of ships in space. However, it did not go unnoticed in the press that Cooper and Conrad, “Were out to break the 119-hour and 6 minute flight record of Soviet Lieut. Col. Valery F. Bykovsky, who flew for 5 days in a Vostok capsule in 1963.”46

Once in space, Gemini 5 was not without its setbacks. A faulty electrical system and a defective heater circuit threatened to discontinue the flight. Both Mission

Controllers and astronauts were needed to fix the problem. The plan could not go off as expected if it were not for the astronauts in the capsule turning off electrical devices to

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conserve power. Mission Control debated what to do next. Flight Director Chris Kraft stated to the press, “I don’t see any reason for not going eight days at the moment.”

While under orders from Kraft to continue, the astronauts aboard the capsule were suffering from a lack of sleep. The astronauts’ doctors demanded that the men get some rest. Commander Conrad growled, “I try to, but you guys keep giving us something to do.”47 After the flight, TASS accused the American government of ordering NASA to

“‘beat the Soviet Union’ at any price with regard to duration of the orbital flight.” TASS

claimed American scientists were “compelled to carry out a crash program….” The

Mission Control officer in charge of Gemini 5, John Hodges, replied to these charges,

“‘That’s not true.’” He continued, “‘I don’t believe we are doing that, I know very well we weren’t told to.’”48

Life magazine followed the flight by dedicating the front cover and inside article

to the anatomy of the capsule. The magazine photographed the cockpit’s many control

systems. A few roles of the astronaut appear paradoxical in the spread. The article shows

the control stick of which the astronauts use to control the attitude, pitch, roll, and yaw of

the capsule. However, even with the images of astronaut control, the article referred to the flyers once again as “riders” of the craft, making them passive participants in the flight.49

The fascination with the astronauts’ use of the cockpit’s controls continued to

attract media attention. A 23 August New York Times article called the dynamic duo “The

Loquacious Astronaut and the Taciturn One.” In describing his personality, Conrad said

that before the launch he designed instrument panels for Gemini, Apollo, and the LEM

(Lunar Excursion Module). While designing and building the panels, Conrad explained

that he had to learn the art of “diplomacy.” From this the astronaut concluded, “Being

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pilots and individualists, astronauts are notorious for not agreeing on what they like to see on the instrument panel.” The article claimed that the reason Cooper flew the last

Mercury flight was because he was such a “maverick” that it “irritated space officials and may have caused them to hold back his flight.’”50

In Pete Conrad’s article on his Gemini 5 flight, he remembered that as a child he

had an interest in weightlessness. He knew that he always wanted to be a test pilot and that all other careers were out of the question. He admitted that as he signed up for the astronaut corps, from a “pilot’s point of view,” he doubted if he would feel the excitement of a conventional aircraft. His August 1965 flight proved him wrong. Conrad missed the “constant changes of G-forces” of conventional test piloting in space

However, Conrad argued that the pilot still has the “fantastic awareness of speed and altitude.” He continued:

Every one of my colleagues who has flown has demonstrated the value of a pilot in a spacecraft, and I look forward to some of the presently automatic functions becoming pilot functions. I hope one day to see Astronauts (sic) ignite and control the lift-off of their boosters just as they do jet takeoffs. Conrad even went so far as to refer to himself and Copper as present day pioneers. The official NASA Gemini 5 patch depicted a covered wagon. Conrad explained that while he was sleeping, “Gordo took a pen and drew a covered wagon on the dashboard next to the main chute switch.”51

The flight was not without its dramatics. On 26 August the media reported that

the Soviet Defense Ministry accused the United States of using Gemini 5 for spying. The

astronauts had taken photos of Cuba. The Soviets believed the astronauts were

photographing weapons held within the country. The astronauts disagreed. They said that

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the photos were merely “scenic shots.”52 Despite the public conflict with the Soviets over

the use of space for spying, the flight proved successful.

The astronauts completed rendezvous maneuvers that would one day be necessary

to go to the moon. The objective of the mission was to test the space equipment for link- ups in space. Conrad and Cooper were pleased that during the flight they performed the first rendezvous with an invisible rocket. The astronauts came within 15 nautical miles of

the phantom rocket, the Agena. The success of the task took the skill of the pilot astronaut

using the computer and radar to “shift and set the capsule.” But the skill of the pilot to

maneuver the capsule was not the sole reason for the success. Doctors worried that the

astronauts might suffer from a lack of sleep. Allowing ground control to take over the

capsule and plot the coordinates of the Agena while Cooper and Conrad slept added to

the mission’s achievement. As astronauts spent more and more time in space, cooperative team work took over the rugged individual astronaut of the Mercury program.53 The

onboard computer also greatly aided the American space victory. As spaceflight

progressed the astronaut became less of an individualist in space. The astronauts struggled for control from the automated systems. They needed to justify their piloting ability in the presence of sophisticated space technology. They successfully proved that they were a necessary component to spaceflight.

During re-entry, Cooper missed the landing site. Conrad explained that even though they had manual control during re-entry, there was an error on the computer’s reading of their position. The computer, not the astronauts, was at fault for missing the target, the USS Lake Champlain.54 However, Astronaut Cooper’s article suggested a

different idea of who held control over the flight. He described himself and Conrad

sitting in the capsule with their hands clasped in front of them “waiting for the experts on

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the ground to figure out the problem.” While their fuel cell oxygen heater read at 60, the minimum operational pressure should have been at 220, ground control asked Cooper and

Conrad if they wanted to go on. Life wrote that within seconds the astronauts told

Mission Control that they wished to continue with the mission. Kraft told the astronauts to lower the capsule down to 10.8 amps. On making the decision to keep going, Cooper wrote, “It all went to prove once again that both machines and men can be badly underestimated, and maybe we shouldn’t give up too soon on either.”55

Gemini 6a and Gemini 7 performed the fourth and fifth manned spaceflight for

Project Gemini. Between 4 December and 18 December 1965, Command Pilot Frank

Frederick Borman Jr., and Pilot James “Jim” A. Lovell Jr., flew Gemini 7. The mission

was to rendezvous with Gemini 6a. Leaving the launch pad on 15 December 1965,

Gemini 6a carried both Command Pilot Wally Schirra and Pilot Thomas Stafford. The

two capsules met up in space within inches of each other. The New York Times presented

a case not necessarily of the individual controlling the capsule but rather of human and machine cooperation in space. The machines calculated the trajectories, the distance to the landing zone, and even fired retro-rockets. However, the capsule would not have worked without the astronauts’ ability to “guide” it through space and even prevent the capsule from “tumbling” by incorrectly firing its thruster rockets.56 Schirra preferred to

illustrate that he was in control of the capsule. He said:

Using what I called my ‘eyeball ranging system,’ I did an in-plane fly around of Gemini 7, like a crew chief inspecting an aircraft…I was amazed at my ability to maneuver, controlling attitude with my right hand and translating in every direction by igniting the big thrusters with my left hand mechanism.57

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The astronauts of Gemini 8, Command Pilot Neil Alden Armstrong, and Pilot

David “Dave” Randolph Scott, further presented this image of the astronauts controlling

the capsule. The mission of Gemini 8 was to become the world’s first space vehicle to

dock with another space vehicle. On 16 March 1966, NASA launched Gemini 8 to dock

with a target vehicle [rocket] that had been in orbit for the past five months. The target

vehicle was once again the Agena. Life magazine, Armstrong, and Scott, depicted the flight as man’s triumph over the machine. The astronauts reported that “Neil made the closing maneuvers and Dave handled the computer calculations which told us the exact amount and direction of thrust needed.”58

When Gemini 8 docked with the Agena, both vehicles spun around like a child’s

toy top. Reports suggested that the astronauts remained calm during the unrehearsed

spinning. Life argued that even at the mission’s scariest moments, Armstrong’s voice

remained “laconic.” Armstrong’s control of the situation never wavered. However, the

piece suggested a lack of individual control of the pilots as Life argued that it was not the

pilots in control, but rather, “NASA’s worldwide network of control.”59

Reporters also emphasized the engineers. Time depicted the scene at Houston as

“controllers huddled over their console” trying to pinpoint the trouble. But it was the astronaut who ultimately prevailed. Armstrong regained control by activating the thrusters that were used to stabilize the capsule during re-entry. He was a pilot in control of his capsule. Armstrong radioed back to Houston, “We are regaining control of the spacecraft slowly.”60 After stabilizing the craft, Armstrong “executed re-entry with such

precision that frogmen (rescue swimmers) reached the vehicle within minutes….”61

Armstrong stated that as a “test pilot” he was trained in “identifying problems and getting

the answers. We never once doubted we would find an answer.”62

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NASA launched new Gemini missions every two months. Journalists continued to emphasize astronaut control over the imperfect technology. Command Pilot Thomas

Patten Stafford and Pilot Eugene “Gene” Andrew Cernan experienced firsthand the faulty technology as they waited atop their Titan 2 for NASA controllers to blast Gemini 9a for a 4 day mission in space.63 The third try worked. On 3 June 1966, Gemini 9a launched

from Cape Canaveral. Unfortunately, as the astronauts attempted a docking maneuver in

space, the “protective shroud” of the 11-foot docking target, once again the Agena,

malfunctioned, leaving the Agena looking like an “angry alligator.” Despite the faulty

technology of the Agena, the control of the astronauts persisted. The rocket’s guidance

system may have piloted the rocket into space, but Stafford “fired the thrusters for a

minute to make the first adjustment in the craft’s orbit….” As the capsule reached the target vehicle, Stafford, “sat in the left seat steering.”After two orbits, the astronauts were able to “steer their craft to their rendezvous with the target vehicle.” Despite the

“alligator jaws” of the docking vehicle, the astronauts still wanted to attempt a rendezvous. Much to their chagrin, Flight Director Gene Kranz “ordered the astronauts to

‘leave it alone’” until engineers could make sure docking was safe.64 The UPI hailed the

feat, perhaps incorrectly suggesting that the astronauts had “mastered” the rendezvous procedure.65

The astronauts failed to attempt a docking, but they performed an EVA. At first,

Mission Control ordered the men to delay the walk in space. The reason given for the

delay was “to conserve the energy of both men and machine.” Essentially, as the

Washington Post claimed, the astronauts concluded that they were too “fatigued” to go on. Ronald Thompson of the Associated Press called the astronauts “weary,” “sleepy- eyed,” and “tired.”66 After around 10 hours of rest, Cernan was able to leave the capsule

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for his walk in space. Fogging inside his helmet forced the “cool-nerved” astronaut to cut his walk seventeen minutes short. Cernan was unable to fully test the “oxygen supply and propulsion rockets of a new backpack that would have made him, in effect, his own spacecraft.” Articles in both the New York Times and the Washington Post referred to

Stafford as “steering Gemini to a slightly lower orbit” and “pilots maneuver craft into orbit for reentry.” The Washington Post pointed out that Cernan called off his walk, telling Mission Control, “‘I can’t see in front of my eyeballs…. No-go for the AMU

[astronaut maneuvering unit].’” Despite the faulty space helmet, print media lauded that

Cernan’s walk was far longer than any of the world’s previous EVAs.67 Cernan returned

to the capsule, and the “astronauts steered their spacecraft” to its landing in the Atlantic

Ocean. The Salt Lake Tribune wrote that the astronauts completed a “Near Perfect

Landing.”68 Once again, another American “Troubled Flight Ends in Success” as man

took over the machine. President Johnson praised the astronauts’ “coolness and courage

under pressure.”69

Less than two months after Gemini 9a, on 18 July 1966 NASA launched

Command Pilot John Young and Pilot Michael Collins aboard Gemini 10. They landed a

few days later on 21 July. Papers hailed the countdown as the “smoothest” and “cleanest” of any spaceflight. Project Gemini was making space travel appear routine. The point of the mission, again, was for Gemini to perform a successful docking with an unmanned satellite, Agena. Approximately 100 minutes before the liftoff of Gemini 10, NASA blasted the Agena into space. The mission broke the former altitude record held by the

Soviets’ Voskhod 2 at 307 miles. The link-up between Gemini 10 and the Agena reached an altitude of 474 miles.70

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As spaceflight seemed more and more routine, so too did the script of control. The

Billings Gazette ran an article that proposed “Young controlled the Gemini.”71 Space

journalist John Noble Wilford’s columns on the control of American space feats

continued in the New York Times. For instance, as Collins opened up the capsule’s hatch

to take photographs of space, Commander Young “was inside at the controls.”72

Journalists took advantage of Collins’s EVA to again emphasize astronaut control

in space. Wilford writes that Collins “maneuvered himself to a nearby Agena rocket

vehicle that had been in orbit since last March.” After Collins’s walk in space and

retrieval of a micrometeorite detection box from the rocket, “Young steered the

spacecraft into a new orbit to be ready for splashdown….” Collins accomplished two

firsts. He was the only astronaut to walk into space, return to the capsule, and then walk

back out into space again, thus braving space twice during the same mission. While doing

so, he was the only world astronaut to “work” with another space vehicle.73 Print Media

reported that like the EVA of astronaut White, Collins was able to maneuver himself with

a special hand-held gun. Collins’s gun allowed him to move “free of the Gemini 10

spacecraft at the end of a fifty foot tether.” The tether carried communication and oxygen

lines, as well as nitrogen for Collins’s maneuvering ability. When Collins released the

trigger of the gun, “bursts of nitrogen” propelled the astronaut forward and backward.

The article mentions White’s “maneuvering unit” and also compares both White’s and

Collins’s ability to control their movements in space unlike that of the world’s first EVA completed by cosmonaut Leonov.74

NASA cut Collins’s walk short. To avoid fogging of the helmet’s face plate, the

astronauts carried an “anti-fogging detergent.” While Collins snapped pictures of space,

his eyes burned. Sitting in the capsule, Young experienced the same sensation. Both men

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believed the burning to be a result of the fumes of the anti-fogging spray. When asked by

Mission Control why he did not mention the burning, choking fumes, Young said, “‘I didn’t say anything about it because I figured I’d just be a sissy.’” Forty-minutes in to his historic walk, Young ordered Collins: “‘Mike, come on back in the house.’” NASA offered no concrete evidence for the eye inflammation, but proposed that the irritation was because of lithium hydroxide. The same chemical also hindered the Gemini 4 mission.75

The faulty technology did not deter the enthusiasm of the print media. It only

made the story of astronaut control that much more exciting. Journalists eagerly wrote

about Collins’s background, depicting him as a rugged individual. The New York Times

described Collins as “physically bold and socially reticent.” His “Associates” referred to him as a “doer not a talker.” In fact, Collins’s lack of communication irked Mission

Control. The Washington Post referred to Collins as “‘a very quiet boy—very self- possessed, and ‘imperturbable,’” certainly not the “‘romantic or cavalier type that you would expect to be an astronaut.’” Beneath his quiet exterior, former classmates remembered Collins as “‘quick and aggressive in athletics and less aggressive in his studies.’” Collins’s controlled temperament as a child prepared him for spaceflight.

Reporters continued to emphasize the importance of emotional control as a necessity for spaceflight. The Atlanta Constitution professed that the astronauts remained remarkably

“calm” during their scary landing in which the capsule heated up to “3,000 degrees, blackening it on all sides.”76

The New York Times’ official box score of the United States-Soviet Space Race suggested that the U.S. commanded the lead. In July 1966, the Americans had tripled

their amount of time in space as compared to the Soviets. 77 The paper claimed that the

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U.S. had seven successful rendezvous in space, while the Soviets completed zero. The paper reported that the Americans had eight maneuverable capsules while the Soviets still had not successfully maneuvered a capsule in space.78 Maneuverable capsules were

important to the Americans. It meant Americans were doers. They were not feminized

passive actors in spaceflight. The piloted capsules insinuated that the Americans had

control as rugged pioneers in the New Frontier of space. Through this control the

astronauts exhibited masculinity. Furthermore, the United States had two space linkups

while the Soviets had none. According to Time, the Americans attempted feats the

“Russians have not yet begun to try.” The perfection of the American flights, according

to Time, made spaceflight appear “almost routine.”79 The Americans had left the Soviets

in the dust.

Flying from 12 September to 15 September 1966, Gemini 11, piloted by

Command Pilot Conrad and Pilot Richard Francis Gordon Jr., smashed the previous

altitude record as they soared to a new altitude of 850 miles.80 The two man team completed the world’s first ever successful rendezvous during a spacecraft’s first orbit.81

While the United States continued to tout its space “firsts,” these firsts in the narrative of

spaceflight completed another interesting shift. As Gemini 11 splashed into the Atlantic,

the New York Times and associated press underscored not the pilot control but rather,

computer control. Wilford wrote that the “Gemini 11 astronauts let their computer take

over today to steer them automatically to a safe and accurate splashdown…” This was not

the first landing with the aid of a computer. The astronauts had previously relied on

computers for “guidance data” but the astronauts have always “fired the braking and

maneuvering rockets themselves.”82 The Wisconsin State Journal hailed the technology

celebrating that “Gemini 11 guided its proud pilots to a breathtaking bull’s eye

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landing….”83 The Des Moines Register echoed the sentiment in Wisconsin with “Gemini

Lands By Computer.”84 Aiken county South Carolina reveled in the “batch” of new

“space records” that Gemini accomplished, especially its “automated Atlantic

landing….”85 The Syracuse Post-Standard reported that “Glinting in the tropical sun, their spaceship automatically guided the thrilled spacemen to a breathtaking, bull’s-eye landing….”86

The enthusiasm for computer control did not end. With Gemini 12, reporters once

again celebrated that the astronauts allowed the computer to land the capsule. The New

York Times stated that “For their return to earth, the Gemini 12 pilots let an onboard

computer the size of a hat box take over both the guidance and firing of the maneuvering rockets. Gemini 12 made the first [sic] such automatic controlled landing….”87 But again,

it was the astronauts who allowed the automated system to land the craft. The

Washington Post continued to emphasize astronaut control. After the launch and re-entry

of Gemini 12, the Post recounted the step by step benefits of the Gemini missions. The

Post looked back at the Gemini program and praised the maneuvering ability of

astronauts Grissom, Young, Schirra, and Stafford. The paper proclaimed one major detail

of the American feats as compared to those of the Soviets. The Post argued that there is

no “indication that the cosmonauts can actually maneuver their craft.”88

Despite the continued script of astronaut control, Gemini 12’s mission left famed

Life NASA reporter Loudon Wainwright underwhelmed. In fact, the space reporter missed the splashdown entirely, absently mindedly forgetting when the astronauts would be returning to earth. It was not that Wainwright was falling short of his exemplary

reporting. “Truthfully,” Wainwright writes, Americans were suffering from “total

ignorance” of the spaceflights. In his article “All systems are ho-hum,” Wainwright asked

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a group of six people information on the flight’s landing. No one in the group had any idea when the astronauts were expected to land, if they did land, and if the landing was successful.89

Wainwright reminisced on the Mercury astronauts. He remembered how “Each flight was packed with drama and suspense—fuel running low, automatic controls not working, flaming re-entries, temporarily lost pilots, last minute rescues” followed by

parades, crowds, presidential welcomes, and Congressional hearings. The hysteria was so great that five years ago during John Glenn’s New York parade; the crowd broke through the barricades and crushed the fender of Glenn’s car. Wainwright suggested that in

Gemini the technology was more sophisticated and pilot control greater. However,

Wainwright wrote that even though Jim Lovell has “85 times more hours in space than

John Glenn” the average American was more likely to recognize Glenn than Lovell.

Wainwright proposed that there were too many astronauts. NASA has 50 astronauts whereas Lindbergh was “the long eagle.” If Lindbergh had flown as a two man team “a

second man in that cockpit would have lessened his glory.” Wainwright hypothesized

that “the companionable sense of security felt by the unlonely [sic] Gemini astronauts is undoubtedly communicated to the bystanders on the ground.” But overall, the

“professionalism” and “soundness” of the equipment ruined the “exhilaration” of the early flights. In other words, Americans were no longer “half expecting the whole thing to blow up.” The astronauts were no longer rugged individuals controlling faulty machinery in space.90

Scott Carpenter told Wainwright that the lackluster public attention to the flights

did not bother NASA. The pilots still performed their job. But he added, “The fact that

people have gotten blasé may even have added to the efficiency.” Carpenter prophetically

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suggested that even in the future, trips to the moon will “seem a bit ho-hum.” Still, “one day,” Carpenter imagined, “Grandmothers will be making the flight…and will be impatient when they don’t get their baggage on time.”91

Life magazine, the only media outlet with the rights to the astronaut’s stories,

dedicated only two pages to the last Gemini flight. They implied that the playful picture

taken by Command Pilot Lovell of Pilot Edwin Eugene “Buzz” Aldrin in the open

hatchway suggested just how routine spaceflight had become. The flight was so smooth

that “Where previous space-walkers had encountered some scary difficulties, Aldrin had

none.” With this feat, the “public was almost in danger of becoming blasé to its success.”

On the bright side, the success of Gemini,

has established beyond doubt man’s capacity for controlling space. No longer is he a ‘captive’ of a womblike capsule but its master, able to maneuver it, to hook up with another vehicle and harness that vehicle’s power, or to step out in space and act as a celestial mechanic with undue sweat, as Aldrin proved so well.92 The article deemed it hard to imagine that just a short twenty months ago “the astronauts

were essentially passengers rather than pilots.”93

The highly sophisticated efficient Gemini capsules strengthened America’s lead

in the Space Race. Nevertheless, it did so during the beginning of a major shift in the

image of who retained individual control of the craft. The astronaut, the symbol of Cold

War masculinity during a time of a masculinity crisis, was changing. On 21 November

1966, after a tour of Southeast Asia, President Johnson congratulated America’s efforts,

specifically praising the efforts of the individuals involved to come together in such a

highly technical and dangerous project. He said:

Today’s flight was the culmination of a great team effort, stretching back to 1961, and directly involving more than 204

25,000 people in the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, the Department of Defense, and other Government agencies; in the universities and other research centers; and in American industry. The image of spaceflight, the rugged individual astronaut, was at odds with spaceflight as a team effort. The astronaut as a symbol of rugged individualism and control wavered as spaceflight continued to become more complex. As the United States continued into

Apollo, Johnson recognized the dangers involved. He predicted that “The Apollo program which follows is much more complicated. …The months ahead will not be easy, as we reach toward the moon.”94 In the press, the need for teamwork, scientist-astronauts, and computers helped change the astronaut image from a rugged individual to a symbol of the average American man striving for individuality and control apart from the group.

Joseph D. Atkinson Jr. and Jay M. Shafritz recount in The Real Stuff that in July

1962, the National Academy of Sciences (NAS) Space Science Board met at the State

University of Iowa to conclude an overview for NASA of the role space science was playing in manned space flight.95 The research group concluded that there should be a scientist-astronaut, an institute should be created to train him, and that he should be included in the first moon landing.96 In the summer of 1963, the NAS sponsored the

Space Science Summer Study. The group met to investigate the role of man in space science exploration. On 6 January 1963, the group of scientists compiled a report entitled

Review of Space Research. They sent the report to Webb. The men concluded that space exploration was scientific and urged NASA to include “trained scientist-observers…in future American space missions.” The scientists recommended that immediate steps be taken by NASA to include a “scientist-astronaut” on the Apollo lunar mission, if not as early as Gemini. The scientists suggested that those with backgrounds in meteorology, geology, astronomy, and biology be selected for space missions. The report concluded

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with the urging that scientists be utilized in four areas at NASA: Scientist-Astronauts,

scientist-passengers, astronaut-observers, and ground scientists.97 This new astronaut

raised questions about the rugged individualist pilot image that space journalists,

politicians, and even astronauts depicted.

It was clear that NASA did not want a scientist-astronaut for various reasons.

Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz argue that with the “novelty and possible danger in the missions, NASA believed that only astronauts with extensive test-pilot training and experience could safely fly the spacecraft.” The scientist-astronaut image deviated from the jet test pilot image of the astronaut, thus complicating the idea that the astronaut maintained control over his craft. Those within NASA considered space travel too dangerous for the scientists, consequently feminizing the scientists as they had done to the FLATs. However, according to Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz, because of the significant political influence of the scientists, the scientists and engineers won the battle for the recruitment of scientist-astronauts.98

William A. Lee, Director of Systems Studies at NASA Headquarters, wrote to Dr.

Joseph E. Shea, Deputy Director of Systems Engineering, suggesting that in recruiting scientist-astronauts “we would have to relax our present stringent requirements for jet test pilot experience; thereby gaining training experience with non-test pilots.”99 The

“relaxing” of the requirements for the scientist-astronauts insinuated a lowering of the

astronaut’s masculine standards. The astronaut was facing his own crisis of masculinity.

The control of the capsule once displayed by the astronaut pilot shifted. The rugged individual astronaut was becoming less and less alone and more of a team player within manned spaceflight. The image of who can fly was becoming less stringent, commencing the domestication of spaceflight.

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NASA commenced recruiting scientist-astronauts. The NASA news release

stated: “A vast scientific frontier is being opened to direct scientific exploration by man.

Observations made by scientist-astronauts will provide new information on the solar

system and on man’s ability to perform effectively in prolonged space flight.” The

applicants did not have to have piloting experience, but it was preferred. If selected,

NASA trained the scientist-astronaut to fly a T-38.Therefore, the applicants needed to be

able to pass the Class I Military Flight Status Physical. This demanded uncorrected 20/20

vision. The image of the scientist with thick black glasses did not fit the new image of the scientist-astronaut. The scientist-astronauts had to have a degree in the natural sciences, medicine, engineering, or its equivalent by time of selection. However, the advertisement preferred the candidate have a doctorate degree.100

By the application deadline of 31 December 1964, NASA received over 1,351

applicants. In February 1965, NASA and NAS officials narrowed down the pool to four

hundred applicants. Four of them were women. NASA continued to lower the

requirements of the men with the right stuff. Engineers and scientists believed that the

rigors of spaceflight had become less physically demanding. They discontinued the stress

tests that the first three groups of astronauts endured. Unlike the military astronaut

candidates, medical testing on the scientists found that some of the candidates possessed

varicose veins, inguinal hernias, nasal polyps, and myopia.101 The fact that they had more

medical abnormalities implied a physically weaker man than the jet test pilot astronauts.

This presented a democratization of space technology, however only in regard to

masculinity. None of the women who applied to be scientist-astronauts even made the short list of potential candidates.102

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On 29 June 1965, NASA introduced the first ever scientist-astronauts. They

included: Owen Kay Garriott, Ph.D. (electrical engineer); Edward George Gibson, Ph.D.

(physicist); Duane Edgar Graveline, M.D. (flight surgeon); Joseph Peter Kerwin, M.D.

(flight surgeon); Frank Curtis Michael, Ph.D. (space sciences); and Harrison Hagan

“Jack” Schmitt, Ph.D. (geologist). At the time of their service, all were civilians except

for Kerwin. He was in the Navy.103 Of these men, all had flying experience but one.

However, their flying experience differed greatly. Kerwin and Michael had jet experience and did not have to take the qualification course. The others went through with the Air

Force Undergraduate Pilot Training Program. As a flight surgeon for the Air Force,

Graveline flew both single and dual seat T-birds. However, NASA believed Graveline

would not be able to transition into the T-38 without further training. Gibson, Garriott,

and Schmitt went through Air Force jet test piloting school together. Before NASA,

Gibson held a private pilot’s license. Garriott flew small tail-dragger airplanes; basically

those with conventional undercarriages consisting of two wheels forward of the center of

gravity and a tiny third wheel beneath the tail. These were the types of planes that Cessna

advertised to average Americans in the 1940s and 1950s. The astronauts, especially

Shepard and Slayton, mocked their lack of flying skill. Jack Schmitt held absolutely no

piloting experience.104 Even if these men had flown as a pilot in mechanical engine

planes, to the astronauts, the scientist-astronauts had never experienced any real flying.

The men might not have needed to be pilots, but they needed to have healthy familial relationships. NASA promptly asked for Graveline’s resignation after his wife filed for divorce in July 1965. Carole Jane Graveline accused her husband of having

“‘violent and ungovernable outbursts of temper.’”According to court documents, Mrs.

Graveline feared her husband so much she believed that if not for a restraining order, she

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“‘will suffer physical bodily injury and may even lose her life.’” While Graveline was

“surprised” by such harsh wording, the New York Times reported that the scientist- astronaut was informed by a lawyer “that it was common wordage in Texas divorce actions.” According to the Times, Dr. Graveline “would not contest the divorce.”105 The

press reported that as of 18 August 1965, Graveline resigned from NASA.106 Roger

Launius suggests that since 1959, NASA had taken painstaking feats to keep any

indiscretions of the astronauts away from the press.107 Chief astronaut Deke Slayton

suggested in his autobiography Deke! US Manned Space: From Mercury to the Shuttle

(1994), “The program didn’t need a scandal. A messy divorce meant a quick ticket back to wherever you came from—not because we were trying to enforce morality, which was impossible, anyway, but because it would detract from the job.”108 NASA needed men

who had emotional control. In the press, Graveline depicted the opposite. NASA also did

not want to project the image of a broken family. Familial importance continued at the center of the NASA public image.

While some papers ran brief stories on Graveline’s unfortunate exit, newspapers were quick to pick up on the lack of piloting experience of the new scientist-astronauts.

The Tucson Daily Citizen declared that despite the fact that two of the chosen were qualified jet pilots, of the other scientist-astronauts, “three of the scientists had never flown jets and two had not flown at all.” NASA put each scientist-astronaut through a year-long training program to fly the T-38. While busy with their training, recruit Gibson lamented, “we feel too isolated from the other astronauts and from the space program, especially the scientific aspect of it.” One of the scientist-astronauts referred to their training as “on-the-job training,” not necessarily inspiring the confidence of one entrusted with the cult of masculinity’s national security endeavor in space. Michael even told

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reporters that he once applied for astronaut training but was rejected because he did not possess “1,000 hours in jet flying time.” Michael described the scientist-astronaut’s job as

“…trained observers. We won’t necessarily have specific things to do, but will look around, get some appreciation of what we see and decide on the spot what we should do.”109

The scientist-astronauts attempted to demonstrate that they would have control of the capsule. Not necessarily by actually piloting, but by conducting experiments. They too wanted to show that they could not be replaced by automation. The Independent from

Long Beach, California ran the headline “Six Scientist-Astronauts Declare: Instruments

Leave Space Gaps Only Man Can Fill.” When interviewed at the Manned Spacecraft

Center near Houston, the scientist-astronauts suggested their role was “to fill the gaps left

by instruments.” Michael suggested that “Without human involvement instruments limit

you in scope. Gibson reiterated his new teammate’s assessment replying, “You need

much theoretical background so you can make on the spot decisions instruments can’t

make.” Chairman of the Academy’s Selection Board, Dr. Harry Hess, backed up the new

astronauts with “Man can differentiate between a thousand possibilities while instruments

cannot.”110

By the end of the training of the “scientific-six,” NASA faced paradoxical

messages in regard to its future plans and funding. On the one hand, NASA envisioned

the next fifteen years of Apollo flights, lunar landings, and space stations. At the same

time, NASA feared cutbacks as rumors of budget cuts and loss of interest grew. In the midst of American disinterest in space, NASA envisioned multiple Apollo landings and an onslaught in the need for scientists in space. In May 1966, despite the opposition of

Slayton, NASA picked another 19 pilots. On 26 September, NASA called for a second

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group of scientist-astronauts. Much to the chagrin of the jet test pilot astronauts, NASA further eased the physical requirements to become an astronaut.

Geologist Donald Beattie writes in Taking Science to the Moon: Lunar

Experiments and the Apollo Program (2000) that NASA disqualified him from the first selection of scientist-astronauts because he was one inch over the height limit and nine months over the age limit. He hoped for a chance with the second selection of astronauts.

He writes:

The Academy had been somewhat disappointed by the number of applications received from the first selection…and thus the selection criteria were a little more relaxed the second time. The age and height limits had not been changed, but this time the press release stated that ‘exceptions to any of the…requirements will be allowed in outstanding cases.111 Dr. Beattie thought that this time he could be considered as an “outstanding case.” With

the growing number of astronauts and scientist-astronauts it seemed as if everyone could qualify for the right stuff. In the NASA press release, Gene Shoemaker, chair of the NAS committee, wrote of the new role of scientist-astronaut: “While such missions call for daring and courage of a rare kind, for the scientist they will also represent a unique adventure of the mind, requiring maturity and judgment of a higher order.”112 The public

image of the masculinity of the astronaut had changed from a physical, tough,

masculinity to one that prided brains over brawn.

On 4 August 1967, NASA announced eleven new scientist-astronauts. Three were astronomers, two physicists, once chemist, one geophysicist, and one electrical engineer.

One was an MD/physicist and two were MD-Ph.D. physiologists. None of the men had

flying experience. All eleven of them would have to spend fifty-three weeks in the Air

Force’s jet pilot course. After they finished their jet piloting course, survival schools, and

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space academic studies, the scientists received their first active assignment in the summer

of 1969.113 With the arrival of this sixth class, NASA had 57 astronauts. Slayton told

them that if they had any fantasies that they would be flying on the shrinking Apollo program, they should leave. No one did.114

Conclusion Regardless of the first page headlines that declared astronaut control of the

Mercury capsules, newspapers, politicians, NASA, and even astronauts paradoxically asserted that Gemini was the first craft to be piloted by an astronaut. This demonstrates the importance of astronaut control moving into Gemini. However, the acceptance of the first scientist-astronauts into the astronaut corps forever shifted the public astronaut image. Gemini proved that scientists without any previous jet training could become astronauts. The scientist-astronauts suggested that the astronaut did not need to have rugged individualism and control. Spaceflight was becoming so routine that even NASA was entrusting scientist-astronauts to fly. The once superior masculine image of the astronaut was being tested. As the pilot astronaut struggled for control over his capsule, he too faced his own Cold War masculinity crisis.

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1. “World Reaction To Gemini IV Space Flight. Research and Reference Service, United States Information Agency,” 11 June 1965, Folder 15767, NASA Historical Reference Collection, NASA History Division, NASA Headquarters, Washington, DC. Impact Series, “Space Quotes.”

2. “Talk Delivered by Major Virgil Grissom at an SETP East Coast Section Meeting, November 9, 1962,” SETP Newsletter (November-December 1962), 5-12; The speech is also quoted in Mindell, Digital Apollo, 83. Previously, before Grissom 1962 address, the SETP did not consider the astronauts to be pilots let alone test pilots. For “spam in a can” reference see Tom Wolfe, The Right Stuff, 64. This term is used in Wolfe’s book as a quote from Yeager, however, according to Swenson Jr., Grimwood, and Alexander in This New Ocean, 131 this was a term used to describe the astronauts by not just Yeager but by the community of experimental test pilots. To the experimental pilots, ground control controlled the astronauts therefore making the astronauts passive actors in spaceflight, or useless meat in a tin can.

3. Barton C. Hacker and James M. Grimwood, On the Shoulders of Titans: A History of Project Gemini (Washington, D.C.: NASA, SP-4203, 1977), 383.

4. Mindell, Digital Apollo, 84-85.

5. Henry Shapiro, (UPI), “Soviet Craft Carrying Three Launched into Earth Orbit,” Anniston (Alabama) Star, October 12, 1964, 1. See also, Henry Tanner, “Soviet Spaceship is Landed Safely after 16 Circuits; 3 Astronauts Stay in Cabin During Descent—Use of Braking Rockets Hinted 437,000 MILES Covered Crew Wanted to Remain Aloft for 24 More Hours, but Plea Was Refused Soviet Spaceship IS Landed Safely After 16 Circuits of the Earth in 24 Hours Crew in Capsule as it Hits Ground; 3 Men Look Tired as They Leave Cabin on Farm—Interior is Described,” New York Times, October 14, 1964, 1.

6. See Andrews and Siddiqi, Into the Cosmos, 225-233.

7. “Space: Adventure into Emptiness,” Time, March 26, 1965, 86.

8. Wire Services, “Historic Space Step Taken by Cosmonaut: Feat Puts Russia Months Ahead of U.S. in Moon Race,” Independent (Pasadena, California), March 19, 1965, 1. To note, “Space: Adventure into Emptiness,” Time, March 26, 1965, 85 says that the “tether” was 16 feet. Time also reported that Leonov was travelling at 18,000 miles per hour. See also, “Take a Giant Step—Into Space,” Newsweek, March 29, 1965, 52-57. Newsweek also reported of Leonov “floating in space” but gives the speed at 17,500 miles per hour.

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9. Moscow (UPI), “Soviet Ship Returns Safely,” Athens (Ohio) Messenger, March 19, 1965, 1. The Voskhod did not come equipped with ejection seats, therefore, if the Cosmonauts could not land the craft, they had not hope for an emergency exit. 10. “In Moscow, a Welcome to the Space Walker,” Life, August 2, 1965, 42B. See also Time, March 26, 1965, 85A. Time proclaimed that since the landings of the cosmonauts are guarded by secrecy, how the cosmonauts land their craft is not known to the press. However, the American astronauts “control” their landing. See also, “Take a Giant Step,” Newsweek, March 29, 1965, 53.

11. Moscow (UPI), “Soviet Ship Returns Safely,” 1.

12. Fred Coleman, “Soviet Capsule Spins On, On After Russ ‘Swims’ in Space: Red Millions Witness Moon-Stride on TV,” Salt Lake Tribune, March 19, 1965, 1.

13. “Space: Adventure into Emptiness,” Time, March 26, 85A.

14. Washington (AP), “Space Chiefs Claim U.S. Program Still Superior,” Independent (Pasadena, C.A.), March 19, 1965, 4.

15. Nate Haseltine, “Russian is First Man to Leave Craft in Orbit,” Washington Post, March 19, 1965, 1.

16. Hacker and Grimwood, On the Shoulders of Titans, 240. Newsweek makes the same claim in “Take a Giant Step,” March 29, 1965, 54.

17. “Gemini: ‘It Didn’t Last Long Enough,’” Newsweek, April 5, 1965, 49.

18. “The Gemini Success,” Lawrence (Kansas) Daily Journal-World, March 24 1965, 4. Grissom named the capsule the “Molly Brown” after the socialite and musical, “The Unsinkable Molly Brown” due to the fact that his first space capsule Mercury-Redstone 4 or Liberty Bell 7.

19. United Press International, “Grissom and Young Undergo Tests After Successful Gemini Journey,” The Coshocton (Ohio) Tribune, March 24, 1965, 9.

20. Associated Press, “U.S. Space Team Scores Historic ‘First’; Grissom, Young Change Course of Gemini Craft; Orbital Steering Proves Success in Cosmic Flight,” Albuquerque Journal, March 24, 1965, 1.

21. “Lift-Off to a New Era in Space,” Life, April 2, 1965, 35.

22. Gus Grissom and John Young, as part of “Lift-Off to a New Era in Space,” Life, April 2, 1965, 42.

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23. Mervin Miles, “Grissom and Young Due Here Friday as LBJ Guests,” Washington Post, March 24, 1965, 1.

24. Grissom and Young, “Lift-Off to a New Era in Space,” Life, 42. 25. Charles Stafford, “Gemini’s Maneuvers Start Era of History,” Washington Post, March 24, 1965, A14.

26. Editorial, “Gemini Confirmed Mankind’s Ability To Fly In Space,” Washington Post, March 24, 1965.

27. Mindell, Digital Apollo, 83. What the pilot was actually flying during landing was a parachute that shot out from Gemini like a paraglider. During the last few thousand feet, the pilot could fly this glider and land on the runway.

28. Grissom and Young, “Lift-Off to a New Era in Space,” Life, 42.

29. John Finney, “Pilots will Control Gemini Spacecraft,” New York Times, October 15, 1962, A1, A5; Kauffman, Selling Outer Space, 62; and Mindell, Digital Apollo, 84.

30. Caroll Kilpatrick, “Johnson Phones His ‘Well Done’ to Gemini Pair,” Washington Post, March 24, 1965, 13. See also, Washington (UPI), “Invited to Whitehouse; Two Astronauts Hear Johnson ‘Well Done,’” Albuquerque Journal, March 24, 1965.

31. Dr. Hugh L. Dryden, “Space Accomplishments are Product of a Team,” Statement Before Committee on Science and Astronautics, House of Representatives,” March 1965, Impact Series, “Space Quotes file 15767,” NASA HQ.

32. Al Rossiter (UPI), “Gemini Space Twin Takes Laughing Stroll into History: Medic Says Pair Doing ‘Real Great,” Independent (Long Beach, California), June 4, 1965, 1.

33. “The Glorious Walk in the Cosmos,” Life, June 16, 1965, 26.

34. Fred Coleman, (AP), “Soviet Capsule Spins On, On After Russ ‘Swims’ in Space,” Salt Lake Tribune, 1.

35. Walter Sullivan, “American Floats in Space for 20 Minutes as He and Partner Start 4 Days in Orbit; Fuel Shortage Bars Booster Rendezvous; Talk of 2 Astronauts is Heard by Millions on Radio and TV,” New York Times, June 4, 1965, 1. In regard to team and control, it takes an average of 10,300 men to rescue the astronauts. About 4,000 come from aboard the carriers. There are 26 ships as well as 139 planes. Some of the Mercury flights required 18,000 men for recovery. These are military men by the way. This is found in an article by the UPI in this edition of the New York Times entitled, “10,3000 Men Involved in Astronaut Recovery, 14.

36. Chicago Daily News, Impact Series, “Space Quotes file 15767,” NASA HQ. 215

37. “Opinion on the Flight of Gemini –4,” New York Times, June 6, 1965, Impact Series, “Space Quotes file 15767,” NASA HQ.

38. “Space: Closing the Gap,” Time, June 11, 1965, 25.

39. “The Great Adventure Moves Ahead,” Newsweek, June 14, 1965, 30 and “Space: Closing the Gap,” Time, June 11, 1965, 25.

40. “World Reaction to Gemini IV Space Flight. Research and Reference Service, United States Information Agency, June 11, 1965,” Impact Series, “Space Quotes file 15767,” NASA HQ.

41. “British Press Hails Whites Space Feat,” New York Times, June 4, 1965, 14.

42. Walter Sullivan, “American Floats in Space for 20 Minutes as He and Partner Start 4 Days in Orbit; Fuel Shortage Bars Booster Rendezvous; Talk of 2 Astronauts is Heard by Millions on Radio and TV,” New York Times, June 4, 1965, 1, 39-40A.

43. United Press International, “Gemini Date in a Capsule,” Independent (Long Beach, California), June 4, 1965, A6.

44. James A. McDivitt, “The Astronauts’ Own Stories about Gemini 4,” Life, June 25, 1965, 25.

45. Mindell, Digital Apollo, 86-87.

46. Harold M. Schmeck Jr., “Gemini 5 Orbited but a Power Loss Threatens Duration of Planned 8-Day Mission Uncertain; 2 Astronauts Strive to Continue,” New York Times, August 22, 1965, 72; and Howard Simmons, “Failure of Oxygen Warmer Appears to be Cause of Trouble on Gemini 5,” Washington Post, August 22, 1965, 1, A35.

47. Evert Clark, “Gemini Cleared for 32 Circuits; It May Go 8 days,” New York Times, August 23, 1965, 1; “Hopes Rise for 8-Day Gemini Flight; Simulated Space Rendezvous Planned; Trouble Over but Clearance is Still Limited,” Washington Post, August 23, 1965; Alvin B. Webb Jr., (Space Center, Houston), “Astronauts Told to Go Ahead,” The Coshocton (Ohio) Tribune, 1; Associated Press, “Gemini Chases ‘Ghost’ in Rendezvous Effort; Space Chiefs Now Expect 8 Day Flight,” The Lawton (Kansas) Constitution, August 23, 1965, 1.

48. “TASS Accuses U.S. of Risking Gemini 5 to Outstrip Soviet,” New York Times, August 23, 1965, 16 and Moscow (UPI), “Soviets Accuse Yanks of Taking Space Risks,” The Coshocton (Ohio) Tribune, August 23, 1965,

49. “Anatomy of the Gemini Spacecraft,” Life, September 3, 1965, 62. 216

50. “The Loquacious Astronaut and the Taciturn One,” New York Times, August 23, 1965, 16.

51. Pete Conrad, “‘Astronauts’ Personal Stories about Their Gemini 5 Flight,” Life, September 24, 1965, 84C, 84D.

52. Theodore Shabad, “U.S. Doubted on Goals, Russians Charge Gemini is Spying,” New York Times, August 26, 1965, 15; Harold M. Schmeck, Jr., “Called ‘Just Scenic Shots,’” New York Times, August 26, 1965, 1; Washington (AP), “Johnson Invites Soviets to See Space Launch,” Atlanta Constitution¸ August 26, 1965, 2; and “Moon Race is Deplored by Russians,” Washington Post, August 24, 1965, 1, A7 and Moscow (UPI), “Reds Claim Gemini Spys [sic],” Washington Post, August 26, 1965, A11.

53. Harold M. Schmeck, Jr.,” Pilots Maneuver To Meet ‘Rocket’: Gemini Tests Rendezvous Technique With Computer,” New York Times, August 24, 1965, 16. To note, the astronauts were to use a “pod” for a practice rendezvous, but since they did not have access to one, they had to pretend they were linking up with something in space, hence the “phantom” rendezvous. For more information see, NASA Technical Reports Server (NTRS), Gemini Program Mission Report, “Gemini V,” NASA, http://ntrs.nasa.gov/archive/nasa/casi.ntrs.nasa.gov/19750067642_1975067642.pdf (accessed January 11, 2011); Associated Press, “It’s Go for Gemini Team for 47 Orbits; Astronauts Assigned to Game of Tag with Paper Rocket,” Portsmouth (Ohio) Times, August 24, 1965, 1 and United Press International, “As Work-load Clutters Up Cabin…Ho-hum; Cooper, Conrad Cleared for Another Day,” Simpson’s (Kittanning, Pennsylvania) Leader Times, August 24, 1965, 1, 2.

54. Pete Conrad, “‘Astronauts’ Personal Stories about Their Gemini 5 Flight,” Life, 84D. The carrier was positioned in the Atlantic Ocean.

55. Gordon Cooper, “‘Astronauts’ Personal Stories about Their Gemini 5 Flight,” Life, 87-88.

56. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini 7’s Pilot Return From Record 14 Day Trip; Both Reported Healthy; Land on Target,” New York Times, December 19, 1965, 68.

57. Wally Schirra and Richard N. Billings, Schirra’s Space (Annapolis, M.D.: Naval Institute Press, 1995), 164; also quoted in Mindell, Digital Apollo, 84-85.

58. “A Case of ‘Constructive Alarm,’” Life, April 8, 1966, 87-90.

59. “High Tension Over the Astronauts,” Life March 25, 1966, 34.

60. “Space: Gemini’s Wild Ride,” Time, March 25, 1966, 38.

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61. “Moment of the First Docking in Space,” Life April 1, 1966, 91.

62. “A Case of ‘Constructive Alarm,’” Life, April 8, 1966, 88.

63. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini 9 Delayed Until Tomorrow,” New York Times, June 2, 1966, 1.

64. John Noble Wilford, “Loose Shield Blocks Gemini Docking,” New York Times, June 4, 1966, 1, 10. In this particular article, the Agena is referred to as the “Augmented Target Docking Adapter.” See also, Howard Simmons, “Target’s Clinging Cover Bars Docking after Successful Gemini Rendezvous; Astronaut May Attempt to Use Wire Clippers to Pry Shroud Loose,” Washington Post, June 4, 1966, 1, A8. The Post contains a front page picture of what the alligator-like jaws would have looked like.

65. United Press International, “Rendezvous Key in Moon Plans,” Kingsport (Tennessee) News, June 4, 1966, 1.

66. Howard Simmons, “Astronauts Relax after 3d Rendezvous, Reschedule Space Walk this Morning; Docking Maneuver is Dropped; Space Pilots Told Not to Attempt Release of Shroud,” Washington Post, June 5, 1966, 1; John Noble Wilford, “Gemini Postpones a ‘Walk’ in Space; Docking Canceled,” New York Times, June 5, 1966, 1; and Ronald Thompson (AP), “Spacemen Rest Up for Long Walk; Gemini Astronauts to Take Daring Stroll from Capsule Today,” Oakland Tribune, June 5, 1966, 1.

67. John Noble Wilford, “Cernan Floats 2 Hours in Space; He Sets Record but is Recalled Early as Visor Clouds,” New York Times, June 6, 1966, 1; United Press International, Space Center Houston, “Success—And Hard Luck; U.S. Astronaut Sets Space Walk Record; Gemini 9 Splashdown Set Today,” Nevada State journal (Reno), June 6, 1966, 1, 3; and Howard Simmons, “Cernan Walks in Space for Two Hours; Fogged-Up Visor Cuts Activity Short; Splashdown of Gemini 9 Set Today; Pilots maneuver Craft Into Orbit for Re-Entry,” Washington Post, June 6, 1966, 1. To note, the Post refers to Cernan’s backpack as the “astronaut maneuvering unit” and the UPI referred to it as a “Buck Rogers Space Pack” A1, 1.

68. John Barbour (AP), “Jubilant Astros Back Home after Near-Perfect Landing; ‘Jinxed’ Gemini Ends in Success,” Salt lake Tribune, June 7, 1966, 1, 2.

69. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini 9 Lands Safely Near Bullseye; Astronauts Flow to Cape For Debriefing on Mission,” New York Times, June 7, 1966, 1, 34; John D. Prompet, “President Hails Crew’s Coolness,” New York Times, June 7, 1966, 34.

70. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini Docks With Agena and then Joined Vehicles Rocket into Higher Orbit,” New York Times, July 19, 1966, 1; and J. V. Reistrup, “Astronauts Enter Orbit after Target; Outlook for Dual Rendezvous is Good; Gemini X Liftoff Hailed

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as 3-Day Space Mission Starts in Perfect Timing,” Washington Post, July 19, 1966, 1, A8.

71. Alvin B. Webb Jr., (UPI), “Fuel Shortage Cuts Collins’ Stroll in Space,” Billings (Montana) Gazette, July 21, 1966, 1. 72. John Noble Wilford, “Astronaut Opens Hatch, Stands Up to Take Photos; but Pungent Fumes in Oxygen Supply Cut Short Exercise—Trouble Eases as the Gemini 10 is Repressurized no Curtailment of Flight is due Trouble eases as Gemini 10 Craft is Repressurized ‘Walk’ Set For Today,” New York Times, July 20, 1966, 1.

73. John Noble Wilford, “Maj. Collins ‘Walks’ to Nearby Agena And Retrieves a Space Dust Detector,” New York Times, July 21, 1966, 1. While the astronauts link up with Gemini 10’s Agena, the Agena from Gemini 8 is the second Agena they rendezvous with. The second Agena’s battery had died, and the point was to see if they could rendezvous with a dormant object in space. See also, Ronald Thompson, “Space Walk Ends after 25 Minutes When Fuel Fades; ‘Package’ is Picked Off Agena,” Atlanta Constitution, July 21, 1966, 1, 9. J.V. Reistrup, “Fumes Force Collins Back into Gemini; Photograph Mission is Curtailed’ Craft is Moving in for Meeting with Agena 8 Today,” Washington Post, July 20, 1966, A1, A6.

74. David Bird, “A Hand-Held Gun is Used to Maneuver in Space,” New York Times, July 21, 1966, K16; Associated Press, “Young, Collins Wind Up Space Adventure,” Ada (Oklahoma) Evening News, July 21, 1966, 1; Associated Press, “Spacecraft Low of Fuel; Collins Ordered To Cut Spacewalk Short,” Western Kansas (Great Bend) Press, July 21, 1966; Howard Benedict, (AP), “Gemini Astronauts Bring Home Bundle of Records; Pilots Are Praised By Flight Director,” Ironwood (Michigan) Daily Globe, July 21, 1966, 1.To note, J. V. Reistrup, “Dual Linkup Achieved by Gemini 10; But Spacewalk is Ended Early to Save Fuel,” Washington Post, July 21, 1966, A1, A3, blamed the overuse of the fuel by astronaut Young as the reason the mission was forced to end early.

75. “Closing in on the Moon,” Newsweek, August 1, 1966, 52-54.

76. “Quiet Man in Space; Michael Collins,” New York Times, July 21, 1966, 16. “Collins Very Quiet but Pukish, When Schoolboy at St. Albans,” Washington Post, July 21, 1966, A3; Ronald Thompson, “Spacemen Make Perfect Landing in Sight of Ship; Call Flight of 3 Days Lots of Fun; Spacemen Make Perfect Landing,” Atlanta Constitution, July 22, 1966, A11; and Webb Jr., (UPI), “Fuel Shortage Cuts Collins’ Stroll in Space,” Billings (Montana) Gazette, 1. This last article refers to Collins as calmly moving through space.

77. “Fattening the Record Book,” Time, July 29, 1966, 28.

78. “U.S.-Soviet Box Score On Astronauts’ Flights,” New York Times, July 22, 1966, 14. After the flight, the U.S. and Soviet Union also signed a treaty that suggested no state could claim sovereignty over any entity or part of outer space. See, Reuters, “U.S. and

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Soviet Draft Ban on Space Claims,” New York Times, July 22, 1966, 14. The same information can be found “Closing in on the Moon,” Newsweek, 52.

79. “Fattening the Record Book,” Time, 28.

80. John Noble Wilford, “Astronauts Soar 850 Miles, Spin Tethered With Agena; Gemini 11 reaches 850-Mile Altitude,” New York Times, September 15, 1966, 1.

81. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini, in Its First Orbit, Docks with Agena Target in a 94- Minute Maneuver; Link-Up is on Time Main Object Of 3-Day Mission is Achieved with Seeming Ease Gemini, in First Orbit, Docks with Agena Target Satellite in 94-Minute Maneuver Link-Up is Made without Mishap Object of the 3-Day Mission is Achieved on Schedule and with Seeming Ease,” New York Times, September 13, 1966, 1.

82. John Noble Wilford, “Astronauts’ Capsule Hits the Atlantic in Full View of Recovery Ship; Computer Guides Gemini’s Re-entry and Splashdown; Automatic Landing is First for U.S.—Astronauts Go Aboard Carrier Guam; 3-Day Mission Saw the First Single- Orbit Rendezvous and Tethered Flight; Computer Guides Gemini Re-Entry and Splashdown Near Carrier Guam in Atlantic; Copter Picks Up Two Astronauts; 3-Day Mission Saw the First Single-Orbit Rendezvous and tethered Flight,” New York Times, September 16, 1966, 1.

83. Associated Press, “Astronauts Healthy; Gemini Hits Ocean Safely On Target,” Wisconsin State Journal (Madison, Wisconsin), September 16, 1966, 1.

84. John Noble Wilford (New York Times News Service), “Happily Down To Earth; Gemini Lands By Computer,” Des Moines Daily Register, September 16, 1966, 1.

85. United Press International, “The Best One Ever; Gemini Astronauts Return Triumphantly to Earth; Bring Back Batch [sic] New Space Records,” Aiken (South Carolina) Standard and Review, September 16, 1966, 1.

86. Associated Press, “Sun-Splashed Return for Gemini; Spacemen Even Kept Feet Dry,” Post-Standard (Syracuse, New York), September 16, 1966, 1.

87. John Noble Wilford, “Gemini Program Ends in Success,” New York Times, November 16, 1966, 30.

88. Thomas O’Toole, “Gemini Drops Almost on Target,” Washington Post, November 16, 1966, A7.

89. Loudon Wainwright, “All Systems are Ho-Hum,” Life, December 2, 1966, 30.

90 . Ibid.

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91. Ibid.

92. Ronald Bailey, “Gemini’s Last Mission is a Lulu—Now On to the Moon,” Life, December 2, 1966, 41.

93. Ibid.

94. Hacker and Grimwood, On the Shoulders of Titans, 381-382.

95. For information on the Space Science Board, see http://history.nasa.gov/sputnik/20fe.html (accessed March 24, 2012).

96. Homer E. Newell, Beyond the Atmosphere: Early Stages of Space Science (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4211, 1980), 208; Atkinson, Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 68.

97. Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 29-30.

98. Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 69, 71.

99. Ibid.

100. Ibid., 54-86; Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 31-40.

101. Atkinson, Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 81; Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 37-39.

102. Ibid.

103. Harold M. Schmeck, “The Scientist To Play Vital Role On Lunar Flight,” New York Times, July 4, 1966, E8.

104. Atkinson Jr., and Shrafritz, The Real Stuff, 82; Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 57, 93-94. It should be noted that Duane E. Graveline, MD, recently retired from his service in the Air Force because he wanted to completely devote himself to NASA.

105. Associated Press, “Wife of Astronaut Sues for Divorce, Charging Cruelty,” New York Times, July 22, 1965, 17. The news of the divorce spread throughout the country, even in small towns. See Associated Press (San Antonio), “Astronaut’s Wife Seeks Divorce,” The Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota), July 22, 1965, 2.

106. Associated Press (Houston), “A Scientist Resigns Post As Astronaut,” New York Times, August 19, 1965, 15. Mrs. Graveline withdrew her divorce petition on 24 August 1966. The two announced that with lawyers “they reached a ‘mutual agreement.’” See, 221

“Wife of Former Astronaut Withdraws Divorce Suit,” New York Times, August 25, 1965, 24. See also, Associated Press (San Antonio), “Divorce Dropped after Resignation,” Colorado Springs Gazette, August 25, 1965, 11.

107. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 181.He says that controlling the astronaut image was largely taken over by the administration’s first officer of public information, Walter Bonney.

108. Deke Slayton and Michael Cassutt, Deke! US Manned Space: From Mercury to the Shuttle (New York: Forge, An Tom Doherty and Associates Book, 1994), 153; Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 84.

109. World Book Encyclopedia Science Services, “Look forward to Flights; Scientist Astronauts Near End of First Year in Space Training,” Tucson Daily Citizen, July 4, 1965, 24. See also, William J. Cromie, World Book Encyclopedia Sciences Services, “Early Training is Over; Moon Explorers Anxious for Mission,” Daily Times News (Burlington, North Carolina), December 19, 1966, 38. The article appearing in the Tucson Daily Herald claims that two of the recruits did not have flying experience while NASA claims only Schmidt had never flown.

110. Associated Press (Houston),“Six Scientist-Astronauts Declare: Instruments Leave Space Gaps Only Man Can Fill,” Independent, (Long Beach, California), June 30, 1965, 12. See also Arizona Republic, June 30, 1965, 8; “The New Six: Scientist-Spacemen View their Jobs,” San Antonio Express, June 30, 1965, 1, 13A.

111 Donald Beattie, Taking Science to the Moon: Lunar Experiments and the Apollo Program (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 175.

112. Ibid., and Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts, 117-118.

113. United Press International, “NASA Selects 11 To Be Astronauts; Civilian Spacemen Include Two Naturalized Citizens,” New York Times, August 5, 1967, 7.

114. Shayler and Burgess, NASA’s Scientist-Astronauts,122.

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CHAPTER VII

“IT’S HIP TO BE SQUARE”: APOLLO, TEAMWORK, AND THE END OF THE

RUGGED INDIVIDUAL ASTRONAUT, 1967-19721

It was only supposed to be a test. But for the families of command pilot, Gus

Grissom, senior pilot, Ed White, and rookie astronaut pilot, Roger B. Chaffee, 27 January

1967 was a nightmare. At approximately 6:31 p.m., after spending five hours atop a non-

fueled Saturn B rocket at Kennedy Space Center, an astronaut’s voice radioed to the

Saturn blockhouse in a “casual tone[s], Fire…I smell fire.” A couple of moments later

White cried out, “Fire in the cockpit.” A “hysterical” voiced shouted, “There’s a bad fire in the spacecraft!” Eleven seconds of silenced passed and the “shrill voice” of Chaffee cried out again, “We’ve got a bad fire! Let’s get out! We’re burning up! We’re on fire!”

As flames engulfed the capsule, all the listeners could hear were cries of excruciating pain. The only escape route, the hatch door, was sealed shut. Veteran space reporter, John

Noble Wilford, described the men’s last moments as “scrambling, clawing, and pounding to open the sealed hatch…. There was no automatic release button.” There was no way out. As they sat defenseless, the astronauts burned in the fire. Due to a combination of scorching heat, malfunctioning gas masks, toxic smoke, and fears of an explosion, the ground crew was helpless to save them. The only way for the astronauts to open the hatch was to use the ratchet that was secured directly above the astronauts’ heads. Using the tool, it would have taken the spacemen ninety seconds to open the hatch. While inspecting the capsule after the fire, technicians found that the skin of the astronauts’

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finger tips had melted onto the hatch door.2 The Apollo 1 astronauts were the first

American astronauts to die aboard a spacecraft.3

The astronauts were powerless to escape their inevitable fate. All three perished

from smoke inhalation, and their bodies burned in the fire. Accounts of the accident

flooded the media. The U.S. mourned their deaths, and the world grieved with them.4

One American magazine reported that these astronauts may have had “square and almost sissy names of Virgil and Edward and Roger” but these men were the symbol of

American strength and prowess.5 They were athletes, eagle scouts, family men, and jet

fighters all. They were the symbol of American masculinity. However, the fire also

represented a loss of control over technology for the rugged individual astronauts and the

scientists, engineers, and technicians. The loss of Apollo 1 displayed American

impotency in technology, bureaucratic management, and above all, teamwork.

Through the image of the astronauts projects Mercury and Gemini represented

American Cold War masculinity. This chapter argues that Project Apollo encountered a

refashioning in the discourse of spaceflight from one of rugged individual control

exercised by the astronauts, to the astronauts engaging in teamwork with Mission

Controllers and scientist-astronauts. Journalists and politicians embraced the team effort

of the Apollo missions. The Mission Controllers became more prevalent in the

spaceflight discourse. These men represented the team spirit of the organization, perhaps

even that of William Whyte Jr.’s organization men. The men differed from the astronauts,

not only in that the media viewed them as team players, but much like the hyphenated

scientist-astronauts, the men appeared physically different.

Papers and magazines failed to depict the Mission Controllers as physically

rugged. Some were, such as Rocco Anthony Petrone, but most were not. The men all

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looked very similar. But so too did the astronauts. However, the press did not depict

Mission Controllers as mavericks or individualists. Roger Launius describes the public image of the men at Mission Control as “‘Geeks’….with their short-sleeved white shirts, narrow black ties, slide rules hung on their belts like sidearms, and their pocket protectors complete with compass and ruler and myriad pens and mechanical pencils.”6 They were

part of the bureaucracy and the organization of NASA. They were part of the Cold War

team player atmosphere. They conformed in dress. They created automated machines.

They were part of why Americans thought there was a masculinity crisis. They were the feared organization men and the astronaut image was becoming one of them. The astronaut image struggled for individual control over his capsule much like average

Americans struggled for individuality and control during the Cold War masculinity crisis.

In 1961 President Kennedy declared that the main goal of NASA was to land a man on the moon and develop his ability to work in a lunar atmosphere.7 For this venture

NASA designed the Apollo capsule for three man teams, with each astronaut aboard

responsible for an individual task. To complete the mission organization was paramount

at Mission Control. Print media stressed the team atmosphere of the space missions.

NASA organized the engineers within the control room, as one newspaper commented,

like a “football squad.” As had been done during Mercury and Gemini, Mission Control

divided each engineer into a team based upon the engineer’s specialty. A “captain” led

each team while the “head coach,” in Apollo’s case the director of flight operations,

worked as the overseer of the team. 8 Mission Control gave the individual teams color coded names. These teams worked together in a windowless room in building 30 at

Johnson Space Center. Within the room the teams stared up at a large screen at the front that updated them on data calculated from computers housed in the room below Mission

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Control. What differed between these teams and the ones in Mercury and Gemini is that

they were more complex, continually catching the interest of the print media. The images

of Mission Controllers became as important to spaceflight as the image of the astronauts.

In October 1968 NASA finally felt comfortable enough to launch men back into

space. Apollo 7 flew from 11 October to 22 October 1968. NASA chose space veteran

Wally Schirra as the capsule’s mission commander. Life described Schirra’s personality

as exuding “authority” and “a competence which inspires people” to the point where

“Nothing but his hair ever gets ruffled.”9 NASA picked Donn F. Eisele as the command

module pilot and R. Walter Cunningham as the lunar module pilot aboard the mission. In

Apollo the astronauts were again part of a team, with each astronaut having his own

individual responsibility aboard. However, like with the last two Gemini missions, the

print media highlighted the control the astronauts shared with their onboard computer.

Some major magazines and newspapers even questioned who held control; the astronaut or the computer. The astronauts insisted they had control. For instance, Schirra commented on Eisele’s navigational ability: “he could make that guidance and control system perform and sing to us” so well in fact that he “sang into the most precise landing that any spacecraft has ever achieved.”10

However, Eisele’s statements insisted a shared control between the astronauts,

Mission Control, and computers. He referred to the tasks during the trip as “getting

beautiful information from the ground giving us our position” and “feeding the data into

the on-board computer which keeps its own knowledge of where you are and where the

target is.” Even with teamwork between man and machine, reporters continued to

highlight the role of man’s individualism as Eisele mastered the computer. At a particular

moment during the mission, the astronaut quit trusting his computer, and instead, relied

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upon his own estimation of the how far Apollo 7 was to its landing zone. According to astronaut reports, a couple of times the computer went “crazy” and Eisele said to himself,

“Oh man there goes the computer” again.11

During Apollo 7 the New York Times reported tension between astronauts and

Mission Control over who held control of the flight. At times Mission Control changed

the flight plan on the astronauts as they flew in space. According to the Times, Schirra

finally lambasted building 30, roaring over the radio, “I have had it up here today….and

from now on I am going to be an on-board flight director for these updates. We are not

going to accept any new games like doing some crazy tests we’ve never heard of before.”

According to John Noble Wilford, Schirra’s choice words for Mission Control were the

“stormiest fits of temper ever displayed by an orbiting astronaut.” He wrote that

“stunned, ground controllers could manage only a soft ‘Roger’ in reply….” Schirra

demanded to know “‘the idiot’s name who thought up this test…. and talk to him

personally when I get back down.’”12

On 22 October 1968 Apollo 7 splashed-down in the Atlantic Ocean. Apollo

Program Director, Lieutenant General Samuel C. Phillips of the Air Force, hailed the feat

as a “Perfect Mission.” With news of the successful pick up of the astronauts by the USS

Essex, the dozens of men inside the control center under 31-year old flight director Glynn

S. Lunney “lit the traditional post-flight cigars. Smiling Apollo officials milled among the control consoles offering congratulations to the controllers.” The New York Times article interpreted the perfection of the flight as the perfection of the automated systems. For the most part, engineers designed these systems, not the astronauts. The automatic guidance controls “triggered the ignition of the 20,500 pound-thrust service module engine” or what the engineers called the “‘de-boost’ to ‘de-orbit’” to slow the craft down. As the

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craft slowed down, more automated controls took over. The “explosive devices” fired

“automatically…to separate the service module from the command module.” The capsule automatically re-entered the atmosphere through the automatic firing of “small rockets on the service module.” Even the capsule aligned itself for descent automatically by the automatic firing of the thrusters of the command module.13 The words “automatically”

and “automated” appeared over and over. Any mention of astronaut maneuvers to slow

down the craft was limited.

After the flight, product advertisements highlighted the image of team players

over that of rugged individuals. For instance, IBM declared that the Apollo 7 mission was

a “tribute to the courage and skill of Astronauts Schirra, Eisele, and Cunningham, and the

dedication of the entire NASA team.” The team included, “20,000 companies and more

than 300,000 Americans who have created the gigantic Apollo/Saturn rockets.” IBM

hailed itself as the “prime contractor for the instrument Unit, a ring of complex

instruments which guides and controls the massive Apollo/Saturn” from liftoff, to the

moon, and back to earth. Their excellent communications and guidance systems were

“essential…. Just ask the men who sat on top.”14

Advertisements used the space missions to focus on teamwork. At the same time, control of spaceflight confronted the routinization of spaceflight. Major newspapers and magazines suggested a routinization of spaceflight during the next Apollo mission. From

21 December to 27 December 1968, Apollo 8 took to the skies. The crew consisted of mission commander, Frank Boreman, command module pilot, Jim Lovell, and lunar module pilot, William Alison Anders. Apollo 8 became the first capsule to be launched by a Saturn V rocket and the first capsule to leave the Earth’s orbit. During the mission, the astronauts became the first humans to see the “far side of the moon.” It took them

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three days to travel from the earth’s orbit to the moon’s orbit. The astronauts orbited the moon ten times in twenty hours. On Christmas Eve the major television stations of ABC,

CBS, and NBC broadcasted the astronaut’s reading of the first ten verses from the Book of Genesis.15

Life interviewed the families of the astronauts, but this time the response from their children was less than enthusiastic. They seemed unimpressed that their father’s had

become the first men to leave Earth’s orbit. For instance, Frank Boreman’s eldest boy,

Edwin, “got up reluctantly” to watch his father’s launch and “went back to bed.” Jim

Lovell’s wife had to “shout” at their son Jay to even get him into the house to listen to his father’s live telecast. Jay “watched moodily,” “couldn’t recognize his father’s voice,” and

“was disgusted” to learn that the spaceship had slowed down to only 24,000 miles per hour.16

William Anders’s children proved just as unenthusiastic about watching their

father on television. They “kept switching to the cartoons” when their mother took her

eyes off of them. Dora Jane Hamblin argued in her Life article that the children’s

ambivalence toward their fathers’ flight in space lay in the idea that “They have been

brought up in the climate surrounding a very special occupation, and it remains for the

rest of us, the outsiders, to be struck dumb by what dad did.”17

But not only were the children bored. A New York Times columnist wrote that the

American public viewed the space feats as “somewhat routine.” An article even ran the

headline, “New-Breed Astronauts: Scientists, Not Daredevils; New-Breed Apollo

Astronauts: Scientists, but Not Daredevils.” Homer Bigart’s article insisted that unlike

the courageous daredevil astronauts of the past, Apollo astronauts were not out for

performing an “historic act” but rather, cared more for an “obsessive curiosity about

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space travel.”18 To the Times, routinization had taken the danger out of spaceflight. Even

Mission Controllers referred to flying in space as safe. Before the Wings Club at the

Biltmore Hotel, Director of Manned Space Flight Safety, Jerome Lederer, claimed that the astronauts would be safer aboard their capsule than any of the crewman aboard one of

Columbus’s ships.19

Even as spaceflight appeared routine, American media outlets continued touting

the Cold War masculinity of the astronauts. The New York Times described Colonel

Boreman as a “take-charge man,” and “a sneaky non-conformist.” Boreman and his

fellow astronauts “kept a firm rein on their emotions.”20 Boreman wrote of his flight, “I

was flying the spacecraft manually, firing our attitude-control thrusters….”21 William

Anders called the 240,000 mile trip to the moon and back “a bit of a drag.” However, he

appreciated his pioneer status. He wrote that he always believed the American people had

a sense of “frontier” in their veins. “The Appalachian Trail, the wide Missouri,

Antarctica…they were there, and men came to conquer them. Now space is our frontier,

and there I was in the lead wagon.”22

Since Apollo 8 left the Earth’s orbit, reentry proved more difficult than during

other spaceflights. Previous flights only orbited the earth. Therefore, all the astronaut had

to do was fire the capsule’s retrorockets to slow the craft down. The capsule would be

going too slow to continue in orbit and drop back into the atmosphere. However, because

Apollo 8 was returning from another orbit, they would be going much faster, about 7,000

miles an hour faster than normal. If they hit the earth’s orbit too hard, they would bounce

off it like a rock. The capsule needed to keep its roll at a 180 degree angle to stop the ship

from bouncing out of the earth’s orbit. To not bounce the capsule, the astronauts need to

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rely on the “automatic pilot.” The computer also controlled the roll’s angle. Boreman said

of his reliance on the computer:

I was watching it closely because if it failed to function I would have to fire our engines manually to make it roll. It performed perfectly. This wonderful machine, this spacecraft, which had taken us all these miles, saved its most sophisticated performance for the final eight minutes of our flight.23 Underscoring the cooperation between astronauts and Mission Controllers, Lovell

claimed that in actually getting from the earth to the moon “the ground would have

primary responsibilities.”24 Upon Apollo 8’s arrival home, the Atlanta Constitution

lauded the computer aboard the ship as “flawless,” and claimed that the flight was not only a testament to man’s dreams, spirit, and inventiveness, but also to the “integrity of his machines.”25 Eau Claire, Wisconsin repeated the Constitution’s sentiments, exclaiming of the flight, the “computer takes charge.”26

Once again, the ground crew also took center stage. For Apollo 8, NASA divided

the duties of controlling the craft. The astronauts’ onboard automated systems controlled

the navigation from the moon to the earth. Space journalists wrote furiously about these

new systems and their designers. The New York Times wrote a piece on Rocco Anthony

Petrone, the director of launching operations at the Kennedy Space Center. Petrone, a

West point graduate and former football player, not only protected the astronauts by

performing “defensive measures” but also stood in the control room “overseeing a team

of 350 essential people….” One of his co-workers described Petrone’s job as, “‘a

conductor of a gigantic complex orchestra…. Everything must harmonize—all the men,

machines, and minutia—without mishap…. Petrone is the unsung hero….’”Another close

friend reported that Petrone failed to see exploring space as an adventure, but rather a

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“‘search for perfection…. The beauty of the teamwork, the precision of the men and

instruments….’”27

The media also emphasized the reactions of the controllers at Houston’s Manned

Spaceflight Center. One controller described the scene as: “I’ve seen locker rallies in

locker rooms after championship games, happy politicians after elections but never—

none of them do justice to the spirit pervading this room.”28 The music from John

Glenn’s documentary “Eyes on the Stars” and the smoke of cigars filled the room. A

close associate of acting NASA Director Thomas O. Paine called Apollo 8’s flight “a triumph of the squares—meaning the guys with crewcuts and slide rules who read the

Bible and get things done.”29 These depictions of ground control highlighted not the

rugged individualism and control of the astronaut, but a different masculine image. The

Mission Controllers represented the corporate team player.

The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists furthered this shift in control from the rugged individual control of the astronauts to the team work of the men at Mission

Control. The journal’s editor, Eugene Rabinowitch, wrote of the Apollo 8 astronauts:

“their flight was monitored by instruments of incredible sensitivity and guided by computers of lightning speed…. The one decision of their own was to join the program.”

The Bulletin depicted the flight as “a triumph of enormous teamwork, of scientific discovery, technical skills and organization—served by a daring and disciplined crew….”

The authors continued to applaud the team effort behind spaceflight underscoring the control of the engineers and scientists:

Certainly, most, if not all, of the critical maneuvers—the separation of the command and service modules from the carrier rocket, the acceleration to leave the earth’s orbit, the deceleration needed to enter the lunar orbit, the renewed acceleration employed to leave the moon and the final entry

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into the atmosphere—were performed with the aid of computerized, semi-robot guidance and control system programmed to do its job in advance. Its performance was continually supervised by the crew, able to resort to manual operation if the automatic controls had failed.30 The Bulletin boldly implied that the “true authors” of Apollo 8’s flight were not the

astronauts alone but the scientists and engineers who built the rockets, computers, radios,

cameras, heat shields, fuel cell batteries, and the other mechanized pieces of equipment used during the mission.31

Space journalist Walter Sullivan speculated that in the new age of spaceflight

instruments were necessary that go beyond the scope of the human mind. “For while the

explorers who first ventured across the seas, tramped the Polar ice and pioneered in plane flight, were able to navigate on their own, this is not possible in space.” In space navigation, the astronaut faced “complex” calculations that “depend on a computer.” The computer changed the way men explored. The technology of television also transformed the relationship of people to their explorer. For example, with Captain Robert F. Scott’s ill-fated trip to the South Pole, the public did not hear from the explorer until the explorer came back from their journey, or as in Scott’s case, their bodies were discovered complete with journals describing the journey. In the case of space exploration and

Apollo 8, people heard the explorer detail his travels while he performed them. Sullivan referred to this type of exploration as “one in which the whole world participates….”

Spaceflight’s audience shared power in interpreting and remembering the exploration, whereas beforehand, the control in its interpretation was left largely to the explorer.32

Even in the memory of spaceflight exploration was shifting from an individual effort to

teamwork.

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After the mission, for the first and the last time in the history of Time magazine, an astronaut made “man of the year.” Not only did Time give this title to an astronaut, but the magazine gave the very first “men of the year” title to all three Apollo 8 astronauts.

While the three men, Anders, Borman, and Lovell received the top honor, Time remembered the men behind the trio, the many, many men. The issue proclaimed:

The mission’s fantastic precision could never have been achieved without the creativity and dedication of the greatest task force ever assembled for a peaceful purpose: 300,000 engineers, technicians, and workers. 20,000 contractors backed by $33 billion spent on the nation’s space effort in the past decade.33 However, Time reiterated, “In the end, though, it was three lonely men who risked their

lives and made the voyage.” To the magazine, the astronauts became a “gift” in a

particularly rough year. War, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr., and Robert F.

Kennedy, and declining U.S. prestige, the “nation’s own self-confidence sank to a nadir

at which it became a familiar litany that American society was afflicted with some profound malaise of spirit and will.”34 Journalist, at times, viewed teamwork in space as

an example for Americans and the world to follow.

American spaceflight appeared paradoxical. On one hand the astronaut as a rugged individual in control was an important symbol of American masculinity. At the same time, American journalists prided themselves in the team effort of spaceflight. As the American astronaut faced a crisis over whether he was an individual or a team player, the Soviets became more interested in the technical aspects of unmanned spaceflight.

Shortly after the historic flight of Apollo 8, one of the Soviet Union’s top space scientists and the father of Sputnik, Professor Leonid Sedov, told reporters that the Soviet Union did not plan to send a man to the moon or even into orbit in the near future. Instead, he

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said that unmanned flights into regions of space deeper than the moon appealed more to

Soviet scientists.35 Who could fly seemed less and less important to the Soviets.

The Americans continued with manned flights. The 3 March to 13 March 1969

flight of Apollo 9 completed 151 revolutions of the Earth. The media described the flight

as “smooth” and “accurate.” The less than stellar amount of print media coverage of

Apollo 9 suggested that despite Nixon’s comment that the flight was “10 days that thrilled

the world” Apollo 9’s “perfection flight” did not excite the American public, but rather,

seemed routine. However, the routinization of the flight led to speculation for a summer moon landing.36

During the mission the astronauts completed the first transfer of an American

astronaut from one orbiting spaceship into another orbiting ship. This took place from the

command ship into the lunar module. Previously, on 16 January 1969, the Soviets

accomplished this same feat between Soyuz 4 and Soyuz 5. To counter this Soviet

achievement the United States also succeeded in its first link-up of two manned

spaceships and its first spaceship flown in space that could not re-enter the atmosphere

[the lunar module]. However, the Americans did complete their own “first” in world

history. They had three spacemen simultaneously exposed to the dangers of space.

Astronaut Russell L. Schweickart performed a spacewalk, Colonel David R. Scott “poked

his head out of the command ship door,” all while Colonel James A. McDivitt sat in the

lunar module with the door open to the elements of space. The Soviets on the other hand

only had two men simultaneously exposed to the elements.37 Finally, Schweickart

performed the first spacewalk where an astronaut was free from life support lines.

Instead, he used a back-pack full of oxygen for life support. If one literally weighed

together the command module, the protective shield, the lunar module, and Saturn 5’s

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upper stage, Apollo 9 became the heaviest satellite to orbit earth at 140 tons. The flight cost 340 million dollars, the most of any previous spaceflights.38

Mercury and Gemini missions almost always had an automated system fail. Space

journalists did not emphasize this to the same degree in the Apollo missions. The

discourse surrounding the flights continued to impress the genius of the computer, and

thus, as opposed to the dangers of spaceflight, journalists focused on the teamwork

between Mission Control and the astronauts. Space reporter Wilford wrote of this

cooperation during the Apollo 9’s flight:

As soon as Colonel Scott found the exact point in the sextant (telescope) cross-hairs, he pressed a button, feeding the information to the onboard guidance computer….. From this, the computer calculated the spacecraft’s orbital position and velocity and, if necessary, could order rocket firings to correct the space craft’s position.39 Teamwork with ground control for successful flights continued. Journalists even

emphasized the control of Mission Controllers. The Times reported that during the mission “ground controllers are confident they can accurately handle all systems on the orbiting spaceship” while the astronauts to sleep. Originally, NASA believed that the astronauts would sleep in different shifts, giving astronauts more control over the capsule.

However, since most of the astronauts’ jobs onboard required all three simultaneously,

this proved difficult. As one astronaut said “We say ‘mission control you’ve got it’ and

we close our eyes.”40 The rugged individual astronauts were sharing their control with the

engineers on the ground.

Space journalist William K. Stevens even went so far as to report, “Although

Apollo astronauts are among the busiest of men once they venture into space, in a sense

they are just along for the ride.” The space journalist insisted that “The real work of

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‘flying’ the spacecraft is done by an ingenious electronic guidance system that is

coordinated and controlled by an on-board computer about the size of a suitcase.” The

computing system, designed by M.I.T. and built by General Motors, and the computer,

built by Raytheon Company, operated as the heart of the capsule, checking the speed,

position, and future course of the ship. The rugged individualism and control was gone.

The astronauts entered information into the computer through their DSKY keyboard on

the control panel, checked it, and held the final say in what to do with its out-put, “but,”

Stevens argued, “for the most part they sit back, figuratively, and let it do its job.”41

Space reporter Wilford even detailed the fallibility of the astronauts. For instance,

during an 8 March 1969 firing of the main rocket to propel the capsule back into a lower orbit the astronauts noticed a “sloshing” of propellants when the rocket was to fire. Due to gravity, the liquids within the tank sometimes remained suspended. To make the liquids settle into the outlet pipes, the capsule needed to be at a tilting position, especially during the firing of the main rocket. If the liquids were suspended during the rocket launch, an explosion might take place. Luckily for the astronauts, the computer failed to launch the main rocket while the liquids were suspended. The ground controllers suspected that the “astronauts fed incorrect instructions into the auto pilot for the maneuver. Spotting the error, the auto pilot never ordered the maneuvering thrusters to fire.” Ground control instructed the astronauts to orbit the earth again and re-fire the main rocket. With the new information from ground control, the astronauts gave the computer new coordinates and the computer promptly fired the rocket. Colonel McDivitt radioed to

Houston, “Thank you from the bottom of our computer.”42

Apollo 9’s flight brought in even more reports of “The Men Behind the Men in

Space.” On10 March 1969, the New York Times interviewed Apollo Mission Director,

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George Hampton Hage. The reporter touted him as a “member of the nation’s new elite corps of technical managers.” In the interview, Hage, a “muscular six-footer,” spoke of the romance of the moon but beamed about the other accomplishments of the mission such as its “rigid manufacturing standards” which is responsible for the higher quality of

American products of the “20,000 organizations that have built the equipment needed to get to the moon with their 400,000 workers.”43 The astronauts were lost in a sea of

workers.

When President Nixon congratulated the three astronauts on the perfect launch he

also applauded, “The genius of the American scientific and technological community

which created and designed the Saturn 5 and the command ship and the lunar module,

once again stirs the imagination and gratitude of the world.”44 The Washington Post

reported Nixon as praising, “the three of you [the astronauts] and the great team which

enabled you to complete your successful mission….”45 It was clear, the astronauts were

not lone wolves, they were team players and even, perhaps, organization men.

Shortly after Apollo 9, NASA launched Apollo 10 on 18 May to 26 May 1969 with Commander Thomas Stafford, Command Module Pilot John Young, and Lunar

Module Pilot Gene Cernan. They were all experienced astronauts spending a total of

eight days within the earth’s orbit. The mission was a “dry-run” for Apollo 11. The

Apollo 10’s lunar module did not land on the moon, but it did come within eight nautical

miles of the moon’s surface. While these astronauts may have set a Guinness World

Record for fastest manned vehicle at 24,791 miles an hour, their flight was largely

overshadowed by the build-up to Apollo 11.46

The manned moon landing gave print media a reprieve from the tumultuous Viet

Nam War. On the surface it appeared that the moon landing strengthened the vitality of

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the United States. President Nixon exalted the landing as the “‘greatest moment of our time.’”47 The launch of Apollo 11 appeared to be another example of the transitioning

dialogue of spaceflight from one focused on the individual mastery and control of the

astronauts to one that represented teamwork. However, it should be noted that while team

work was necessary, the rugged individualism and control of the astronauts was still a priority. The New York Times asserted that the men that so many Americans idolized were “not scientists seeking fundamental truth – although astronauts on future flights will be – but supremely self-confident pilots, who like action; and highly disciplined engineers whose natural habitat is the sometimes bewildering technology of the electronic age.” The paper hailed the men who would be first to step foot onto the surface of the moon as “expressions of the dominant values of the broad American middle class, but each represents a different current in that mainstream of society.”48

The men NASA picked to go to the moon represented the same rugged masculine qualities as the astronauts before them. Neil Armstrong, the son of an auditor, and a

“good church going lady,” grew up in Ohio. Like the astronauts in the first group, he earned his way through college; in Armstrong’s case, with a Naval scholarship to Purdue

University. Upon commission into the Navy, he flew Panther jets off the deck of the USS

Essex. He completed seventy-eight combat missions, earning himself three Air Medals.

After being shot down, he spent a day behind enemy lines before being rescued. After the service he worked for Edwards Air Force Base and NASA as a civilian jet test pilot flying the experimental X-15. Interestingly enough, Armstrong did not only consider himself a pilot, but also, an engineer, “using airplanes merely as tools, the way an astronomer uses a telescope as a tool.” While describing the demeanor of Armstrong, Life referred to his moments of silence in conversations not as “icy” but as “controlled.” He

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denied any “courage” or “fear” of going to the moon. His wife Janet continued the dialogue of control as she described her husband as not “one to rush into anything.”49

Life writers created a pioneer image of the Armstrong family. Life described the

first house that Neil and Janet built 5,000 feet up into the mountains outside Edwards Air

Force Base. The family mastered their surroundings in a household of little modern

conveniences as Armstrong frequently fished for their dinner. To continue this pioneer

image, the article pointed out that as a young Eagle Scout, Armstrong was never a fan of

team sports. Reinforcing a rugged individual image, Hamblin suggested that Armstrong

preferred solitude within the sport of flying gliders.50 The New York Times continued

with a dialogue of control suggesting that although Armstrong did drink [alcohol] he

never appeared “visibly affected.”51

Unlike most of the astronauts, Edwin Eugene “Buzz” Aldrin, the son of an aviator

and oil man, grew up with an upper middle class childhood in Montclair, New Jersey. He

was a particularly no nonsense child who dreamed of flying for the service academies.

After graduating number one in his class at West Point, Aldrin went to Korea. Aldrin

flew sixty-six fighter missions. After the war he became an Air Force instructor, and then

married Joan Archer. He received a Ph.D. from M.I.T. in Aeronautical Engineering. Life

described Aldrin as not only having the best scientific mind of any of the astronauts, but

also as having the ability to correct a computer, thus, insinuating an element of control

over technology.52 The media also reported on his manly physique. The New York Times

stated that beneath Aldrin’s “suave urbanity” and “stylish clothing” hid a “well conditioned body whose individual muscles are under disciplined control, an asset that has made Colonel Aldrin probably the most accomplished of the six Americans to ‘walk’ in space.”53

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Michael Collins held a similar background to Aldrin. His father was a military

attaché to the US Embassy in Italy, and Collins was born in Rome. After moving around

throughout his childhood, Collins went to West Point and then entered the Air Force.

Like the other astronauts, he too flew as a jet test pilot at Edwards. Collins said one of the

reasons he yearned to become a fighter pilot was because they are “independent, they say

what they mean, they prove who they are by what they do.” Like the men before him the

article described Collins as fearless. Collins was not scared to go to the moon because

“Things that you understand fully are not really frightening.”54

On 16 July, Apollo 11 launched into space. Journalists stressed the individual

control of the astronauts. Richard Witkin of the New York Times reported that even

though the computer fired the engine and pitch-up maneuver and the keyboard controlled

the attitude, during the flight, Armstrong switched to manual control to find a safe place

to land the Lunar Module (LM), nicknamed, Eagle.55 The Charlotte Observer concurred,

writing that “Armstrong had to seize control of the spaceship from a computer that would

have dropped them” into a dangerously large crater.56 To the Observer, “In the end, man was on his own. The wondrous machine he’d built to land him safely on the moon just wasn’t as versatile as man himself.”57

The Birmingham News ran the headline “To Houston, Crew, LM Moon Landing

‘Hairy.’” The article by Richard Lewis (CS-T) highlighted the individual control of

Armstrong. Armstrong switched to manual control as the automatic guidance system of

the LM sought to miss the landing site and send Armstrong and Aldrin into an enormous

crater. NASA director, Thomas O. Paine, lauded the “cagy piloting” of Armstrong as he

landed the Eagle safely.58 Jack Nelson of the Los Angeles Times quoted Paine as

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suggesting that the United States had been lucky with their past unmanned moon landings

because without a “pilot” the LM might not have made a successful landing.

Mission Controllers had anxiety about the extremely precarious situation in space.

The astronauts’ hearts raced, but they “kept their voices under ‘tight control.’”59 Mission

Control touted “The men and equipment that are Apollo 11 have performed to perfection.

Perfection is not too strong a word.”60 Headlines likened the training of the men to a

“unit.”61 Praising the Mission Controllers, the Lost Angeles Times reported that the men

back in Houston “‘play[ed] it cool.’”62 British historian Arnold Toynbee was quick to

point out that the heroic feat of the astronauts would not have been possible without the

“skill, toil, devotion, loyalty, and competitiveness of the hundreds of thousands of

scientists and technicians who have made the astronaut’s feat possible.”63 The astronauts

were not alone.

Involved in the launch were not only NASA centers and astronauts. To see the

launch, 267 Congressmen flew to Cape Canaveral. NASA allowed each Congressman to

bring one member of the immediate family. NASA paid the bill.64 During the flight the

astronauts carried silicon discs inscribed with the names of men such as presidents

Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon. Along with the name Barry Goldwater, 49 other names of members of the House and 28 Senators, including Vice President Spiro T.

Agnew were also taken into space. The disc included miniaturized messages of 72 heads of state. Engraved were Pope Paul VI’s citation of the eighth Psalm and even the president of Senegal, Leopold Sedar Senghor’s, “This is a message from black militants,” which praised human will over technology.65

The print media coverage of the moon landing spanned the globe. Half a billion

people watched the landing.66 “Crowds screamed joyously in Trafalgar Square, people

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danced in Chile, a Russian yelled ‘Hooray,’” wrote the associated press in London. The

associated press declared that with the great feat of the American moon landing, “Almost

everyone on Earth was somehow touched.”67 During the turbulent times of civil rights

and Viet Nam, former president Johnson boasted that the landing proved that Americans

“can do anything that needs to be done.”68 To celebrate the launching of Apollo 11,

Nixon declared a day of national participation. Nixon ordered nonessential government employees, governors, mayors, heads of school systems, and private employers to close

down for the day.69 The president proclaimed that the feat of landing on the moon was

not to be enjoyed by NASA alone, but rather that all Americans should take pride in the

accomplishment.70

And they did. Outside a Zenith store, New Yorkers waited in anticipation for the

landing.71 As the New York Yankees played the Washington Senators, “the words

‘They’re on the Moon’ flashed on the scoreboard” at Yankee Stadium. After the landing,

the umpires stopped the game and the 15,000 fans fell silent with prayer followed by the singing of “‘America the Beautiful.’” At Disneyland park goers flocked to the “‘Flight to the Moon’ Ride.”72 Upon the astronauts return cities throughout the United States, such

as New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, planned enormous parades.73

The city of Birmingham, Alabama turned into a ghost town as residents were

home watching the landing and praying for the safety of the astronauts.74 The residents of

Huntsville, Alabama deserted the streets to stay inside and watch the landing footage.

One child commented that the streets were quieter “‘than during the Alabama-Tennessee game.’” After the landing, Huntsvillians rejoiced with pride in their eclectic city for helping land astronauts on the moon.75 British astronomer Sir Bernard Lovell celebrated the American “superiority” over the Soviets in space, exclaiming that the Soviets could

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“‘no longer regard themselves as masters.’”76 Among the accolades for the astronauts and teamwork in space, Americans continued to debate pilot control over space technology.

John Glenn rejoiced but reminded Americans that the astronaut did not embody rugged individualism, but rather that he was part of a vast network of control. Glenn remarked that the explorers of yesteryear such as Edmund Hilary and Charles Lindbergh

“were independent agents. They had only to apply their own ingenuity and round up the necessary backing before taking off on their own to satisfy their urges to learn, accomplish, and conquer.” However, to Glenn, as it was to most of the media, advertisers, NASA employees, and the general American public, the astronauts were a

different type of explorer, stretching the myth of the independent flier as much as the

historiography of the west stretched the myth of the autonomous frontiersman. Glenn

wrote, “astronauts are part of a complex, interdependent system from which they cannot

separate themselves, and the very existence of which rests on the say-so of the public.”77

Some reporters even suggested that it was not the skill of the pilot that led to the

safe LM lading. Journalists maintained that a “Change of 2 Numbers on Apollo

Computer” shifted the craft to a new landing location 247 miles farther North and East to

land closer to Johnson Island.78 Louisville’s Courier-Journal ran a similar article by

Richard Witkin that proclaimed “Eagle’s Descent to the Moon Mostly in Computer’s

Hands.” Witkin described that the astronauts pushed the buttons “Program 63” followed

by the “Pro” [Proceed] key that enabled the computer to fire the engines. The computer

performed all the flying until Armstrong was forced to manually take over the controls to

land the LM on the surface of the moon.79

Praise for Apollo’s man and machine teamwork continued. However, some journalists feared that Americans were losing control both domestically and

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internationally. Suville R. Davis of The Christian Science Monitor warned that “the good

name of the United States will still have to be proved. It is not enough to have its flag

propped up in the Sea of Tranquility, where it can no more feel or know the gales of

Earth….” When the enthusiasm for the astronauts died down, space headlines would once

again be replaced by American war and civil rights protestors clashing with police. While the world “regards [Americans] as doers,” in the end, warned Davis, the world will not judge the United States on its ability to land a man on the moon, but rather, on its

“civilization.” “The country that ‘cannot afford to be second best in space’” wrote Davis,

“ may make more friends by its frank acknowledgement, at last, that it could not achieve military victory within South Vietnam.”80

Putting its domestic and international problems aside to go to the moon would not

solve America’s current problems. David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” lyrics aptly described

the loss of control of the astronaut and American Cold War masculinity: “Here I am,

floatin’ ‘round my tin can far above the world, Planet earth is blue and there is nothing I

can do.” The astronaut is looking at the domestic and international conflicts 1960s, but

even though the astronaut is the hero, he is helpless whether out in space or on the

ground. The song continues: “Ground control to major Tom, your circuits dead, there’s

something wrong, Can you hear me major Tom?.... Here I am sitting in my tin can far

above the Moon, Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do.” 81 The astronauts, like

American men, were losing Cold War masculinity.

An editorial appearing in Louisville’s Courier-Journal wrote of this “Human

Paradox” of the moon landing. “The Central Meaning of the moon landing is inescapable,” exclaimed respected journalist Flora Lewis. It was one of both “hope” and

“fear.” If man could reach the moon, asked Lewis, why can man not cure “hunger,”

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“greed,” “warfare,” or “cruelty?” Taking the moon landing as a symbol of hope, Lewis remained optimistic, anticipating that “the day man touches the virginal moon must surely be the day man starts to purify himself, breaking free from hate and horror as the astronauts broke free from the very earth.”82 Another editorial asked, “How far can we go

to satisfy scientific curiosity without making the earth a living—or dying—hell?”83 War,

American poverty, and race riots competed for front page headlines with NASA. The astronaut as a symbol of rugged individualism and control could not cure America’s problems. Instead of representing control, he was representing a complete lack of control.

The astronaut image was facing a masculinity crisis.

The U.S. commander in Viet Nam, General Creighton Abrams, did not take time out from running the war to listen to the moon landing. However, the press suggested that

“‘everybody else’” in Viet Nam was listening to the footage on Armed Forces Radio.84

Contradicting the report, journalist Keyes Beech interviewed volunteers and soldiers at

the USO in Saigon who reported that the pool game at the base never stopped during the

landing, and “There was no rush” for the free hamburgers and coke offered by an

American businessman. Some soldiers were in disbelief. They thought the landing was

“science fiction.” However, “a good many asked what it had to do with the war. The

answer, as they saw it, was nothing.” Specialist William D. Hutchison of North Dakota

commented, “‘You might think that a country that can put a man on the moon could end a

crummy war like this.’”85

Not only the Viet Nam War, but also civil rights became a contested topic as

Americans landed on the moon. As the astronauts readied for space, the poor watched at

the Cape. While Thomas O. Paine lauded the feat as “an example of what this country

can do,” Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) president, Reverend Ralph

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D. Abernathy, watched along with 150 poor and three mules. The spectacle created a

metaphor for the loss of Cold War masculinity, not only control in the form of black

demonstrations but also in control over their own earth, to feed the hungry and eliminate

poverty. Abernathy congratulated NASA on such an achievement but wished for

Americans to learn to live together “down here on earth.” As the world watched,

Abernathy pointed out America’s shortcomings. Paine maintained that NASA was for

“all Americans.” He implored Abernathy to “hitch your wagons to our rockets.”86 Paine

said he too wished for an end to poverty and racial injustice, telling Abernathy, “if it were possible for us not to push that button tomorrow and solve the problems you are talking

about, we would not push that button.”87

New York Times staff writer Bernard Weintraub called the launch of Apollo 11 a

microcosm of the United States. He said that on one side of the launch you had the

businessmen, politicians, and generals in the bleachers, and on the other side, you had the

poor gathering outside of their Cape Canaveral shacks, angry, hopeless, and shaken, but at the same time “yearning to break through, possibly even smash through, this very power.” In between the two groups stood the middle class, made up of engineers, teachers, farmers, and housewives, “whose pride in the country, and themselves, was

pure.”88A cartoon adorned the inside pages of Baltimore’s Afro-American with the

headline “Our Prayers Go With You.” The cartoon depicted a white astronaut waving to a

crowd of onlookers as he entered the space capsule. In the picture, spectators held up

cards reading “Remember the Poor” and “Please Share More with the Poor.”89

The Times reported that most African-Americans “couldn’t have cared less” about the Apollo 11 flight. In fact, 50,000 African-Americans gathered in Harlem on the day on the moon landing to celebrate a cultural soul music festival. Upon hearing the news of the

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Eagle’s landing, the crowd booed. Bars patronized by African-Americans in Chicago’s

Michigan Avenue reported that as the astronauts landed the patrons watched baseball.

The newspaper quoted one patron as saying, “‘There ain’t no brothers in the program where they can get into some of that big money.’”90

Operations Director of Pride Inc. blasted the flight telling workers to “keep on

working” as he castigated NASA and the U.S. government with: “Why should blacks

rejoice when two white Americans land on the moon when white America’s money and

technology have not even reached” the poor black populations.91 Journalist J. Anthony

Lukas wrote that while white men were landing on the moon, some Americans have yet to “Discover America.” To Lukas, many Americans, especially African-Americans, still lived in abject poverty. One man he interviewed in James, Mississippi only made twenty- three dollars a week working on a white man’s plantation. Lukas speculated that “Even relatively well-off Negroes frequently feel their hold on prosperity is precarious.”92 The

Chicago Defender reported that even though for one instant the Eagle landing on the moon united all Americans it could also be considered a “cultural lag.”93An attorney for

the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People’s (NAACP) legal

defense and education fund commented:

It proves that white America will do whatever it is committed to doing…. If America fails to end discrimination, hunger, and malnutrition then we must conclude that America is not committed to ending discrimination, hunger, and malnutrition. Walking on the moon proves that we do what we want to do as a nation.94 Newsweek reported that a young San Francisco journalist lamented that the trip to the

moon did not include a minority. He wrote, “If one of the Americans setting foot on the

lunar surface had been a Negro I feel that the $24 billion might have been justifiable.” To

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the journalist, if NASA had launched an African American it “would have demonstrated

to ourselves and to the world not only that we have the best technicians, but also we

know how to live with each other.”95

The Washington Post’s William Greider described the protests that occurred outside Houston’s Mission Control on the day of the landing. He wrote that “outside the

white buildings of the Manned Spacecraft Center campus, Sunday visitors strolled along

the walkways with dreamlike disregard.” White families enjoyed a leisurely afternoon.

However, in the background appeared a different image of American life in the 1960s.

“An assemblage of about 40 black children and their mothers, welfare recipients from

Houston, gathered on the grass terrace beside the LEM [model] to demonstrate.” As they

protested, building 30 waited for Armstrong and Aldrin to land. Upon planting the

American flag, Armstrong reported as scripted: “‘That’s one small step for [a] man, one

giant leap for mankind.’” The controllers exploded with excitement, “pounding on

desks,…arms waved and technicians jumped out of their seats.” Outside a black man

with a shirt reading “AFRO” led the group of black children in song. The demonstrators

followed suit singing, “‘He’s got the lunar module in His hands. He’s got the astronauts

in His hands.” Someone who appeared to be organizing the demonstration passed out

signs that read: “‘Good Luck from the hungry children of Houston’” or “41 cents a day is

not enough.”96

As the demonstration persisted, most of the white tourists continued to walk the

campus grounds hoping to catch a glimpse of the engineers. According to Greider, the

white tourist either “gawked at” or “ignored” the protestors. One of the news men ran out

of a building toward the demonstrators exclaiming, “‘Do you people realize that two men

just landed on the moon?’” An employee for NASA’s contractor AV Corporation, John

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Harrison, pulled some money from his wallet, waved dollar bills in the demonstrators

faces, and hollered, “‘Are you people hungry? Here’s a dollar!’”A black woman cried

back, “‘Take us out tomorrow to one of those big cafeterias where we can’t go.’” The

man roared back: “‘Why don’t you go out and work and get yourself some food?’”

Greider asked Harrison his thoughts on the protestors. Harrison fired back that he was

“‘damn mad’” that the “welfare rights organization” ruined the moon landing for him.97

Just days before the moon landing, Newsweek attacked NASA as lacking any real

“over-all goal.” The magazine compared the Apollo program to a “metaphor for all of

contemporary technological speed—that is, in the textbook definition, of velocity without

direction.” The magazine added, “For, if spaceflight stirs nothing more than flag-waving

in the xenophobes and only a moldering sense of injustice in the dissidents, then there are

others who are still moved by the promises of what the new age can be….”98America was

torn between two worlds. The astronaut was somewhere in the middle. He was a symbol

of a new man, a symbol of hope, the rugged individualist Cold War pioneer. And yet, it

appeared as if he had no control at all. He could not fly a capsule on his own. He

symbolized a superior America, and yet he could not solve American problems. The

astronaut image faced an identity crisis.

Within the public discourse, the astronaut image was losing his control to the

Mission Controllers. Space journalists, politicians, and NASA administrators continued

with the trope of spaceflight as a symbol of teamwork between both astronauts and

Mission Controllers. The teams at Mission Control during Apollo 11 were as follows: 37- year old Clifford E. Charlesworth headed up the green team; 35-year old former jet test pilot Gene Kranz headed up the white team; the black team was led by the youngest mission control flight director to date, 32-year-old Lunney, and finally, Milt Windler, 37,

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headed-up the maroon team. The White team, nicknamed “white flight,” was in charge of bringing the astronauts to the lunar surface. The black team’s responsibility lay in the liftoff from the moon, and the maroon team was in charge of both the moonwalk and the mission back to earth. The green team was responsible for everything else during the mission.

Like all the spaceflights before, the only one person allowed to speak with the astronauts during the actual mission, was Capcom. The man at Capcom “relays the flight director’s instructions to space—but always as recommendations. The astronauts like to think that they are the ones flying the mission, not the ground controllers.” The Capcom communicator for the mission was astronaut Charles “Charlie” Moss Duke Jr. Continuing this pyramid structure were about “150 experts” assembled in a small room in Mission

Control analyzing computer data and waiting for any problem that may befall their special area. If one arose, it was their job to fix it.99 Further down the pyramid were

representatives from the manufacturing companies that made the spaceship and lunar

module who were ready to step in with their expertise. The astronaut was one man in this

huge organization.

The media fixation on the scientists and engineers continued. The Washington

Post argued that during the spaceflight, “Four Men in the Background Played Key Apollo

11 Roles.” The article was referring to NASA Director Thomas O. Paine, director of the

Manned Spaceflight Center in Houston, Robert Gilruth, associate administrator of

manned spaceflight, George Mueller, and Apollo mission director, George H. Hage.100

Newsweek proclaimed Mission Control as “A place where 13,000 men can feel like they

are Columbus.”101 Victor Cohn of the Washington Post argued “Christopher Columbus

Kraft: ‘He Gives the Orders!’” “‘The guy on the ground,’ he once said, ‘ultimately

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controls the mission….there is no question about that in my mind or the astronauts’ minds. They are going to do what that guy says.’”

To demonstrate the amount of control that Kraft exercised over the astronauts,

Cohn looked back at the incident of Scott Carpenter’s flight when Carpenter ended up burning too much fuel “‘trying to ‘fly’ his spacecraft himself rather than relying on automatic systems. Carpenter never flew again.” It was Kraft who gave astronaut Gordo

Cooper the complex numbers and orders to make a manual retrofire and re-entry after

Cooper’s automatic-recovery power supply failed.102 Project Apollo director Sam Phillips

wrote in the New York Times of the group dichotomy at NASA: “The NASA System: A

Meshing of Many Parts, People and Ideas.” To Phillips, NASA had created a web of

workers, management, hardware, software, technical workers, contractors and

subcontractors.103 Together, all of these groups came together to exemplify the

organization, and even perhaps, the organization man. Print media hailed the organization

of NASA so much that some suggested “Apollo Teamwork is Needed on Earth.”104

James Clayton of the Washington Post suggested that Apollo taught important lessons of camaraderie, management and teamwork. Engineers, doctors, electronics specialists and propulsion men had to work together and “Pulling all this together was the computer and communications network.”105 The New York Times followed suit with an

article by Chris Kraft entitled “Computers and Controllers” in which he singled out the

computer as the most necessary piece of equipment aboard any American space flight.106

Not once in Kraft’s article did he acknowledge the necessity of the astronaut over the

technology aboard. However, while Kraft did not highlight pilot control in his article, his fellow NASA administrator and manager of the Apollo spacecraft program, George Low, argued that “In Developing Space Hardware, Human Judgment Still Counts Most.”107

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But again, Low’s argument centered on the mind of not just the astronauts, but also the men building the technology.

IBM made sure that the people of Earth did not forget that millions of minds went into the Apollo 11 flight. In their 24 July advertisement in the Washington Post, IBM saluted the astronauts “who took historic first steps in our space program. And the people of NASA who guided them And [sic] the 20,000 companies in the Apollo program who helped.”108 Westinghouse “salute[ed]the fantastic astronauts and NASA team that made

Apollo 11 possible.109 The New York Times hailed the “Intricate Communications

Systems” that converted “speech, pictures, and data, into electronic signals” hurling them

into space as electronic waves. The waves “are converted back into speech, pictures, and data so that the world can hear the astronauts and so that the computers can analyze what is happening to the astronauts and their craft.”110 A General Electric advertisement

suggested that “Hundreds of smaller steps led to man’s giant step on the moon. And

thousands of General Electric people were there along the way.”111

Not only did a shift occur in that print media failed to present the astronauts as the

only men in control of the craft, but the dialogue of the goal of space, to control and

master space, was refashioned again as the headlines ran “Moon Walk Yields Data for

Science.”112 From 14 November to 24 November 1969, the crew aboard Apollo 12,

Commander Pete Conrad, Command Module Pilot Richard Gordon, and rookie Lunar

Module Pilot Alan L. Bean, ventured back to the moon.113 A New York Times editorial by

Earl Ubell, science editor for WCBS news-New York, suggested controversially that

Apollo 12 was the spacecraft to prove what Apollo 11, Gemini, and Mercury failed to

prove; that man with machines have a “role beyond piloting, beyond generating glory and

poetry.”114

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By the time of the launch of Apollo 13, the excitement over the launch garnered the same support as most of the other Apollo flights. However, there were obstacles. An astronaut needed to be replaced only days before the mission. NASA believed that during training exercises astronaut Thomas Kenneth “Ken” Mattingly II was exposed to the

German measles. Doctors felt it best to replace him rather than risk having an astronaut with measles in space. NASA replaced Mattingly with astronaut John Leonard “Jack”

Swigert Jr., the first bachelor astronaut. The media referred to Swigert as a “rambunctious bachelor.” His sister told reporters, “‘You know how a sailor has a girl in every port?…

Well, Jack has a girl in every airport, from coast to coast.’”115 Swigert had swagger.

On 11 April 1970, NASA launched Apollo 13. Three days later, Apollo 13

experienced a “power failure.”116 On 14 April, as Apollo 13 approach the lunar orbit of the moon, its oxygen tank exploded resulting in an oxygen leak. The explosion also caused the command module to lose its electrical power. NASA ordered the astronauts out of their command module and into the moon landing module to serve as a lifeboat.

The astronauts kept the hatch door between the module and the capsule open. One astronaut stayed in the command module to monitor the systems. Mission Control then instructed the astronauts to use the rockets of the landing module to propel themselves back into the atmosphere and into the Pacific Ocean.117

The press reported the situation and those involved as calm, cool, and collected.

Deputy Director of Manned Spaceflight, Kraft, reported that the astronauts had simulated

such mission abort procedures before and were well informed of the necessary actions to perform. Papers reported that this was “the first serious cliff-hanging development in any of the nation’s five flights to the vicinity of the moon.”118 Americans anxiously awaited

the fate of the astronauts. However, the image Americans gazed upon was quite different

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than before. Unlike with Apollo 11, they saw three heroic astronauts, helplessly floating

in space, while the men in control reported to them from Houston. The media painted a

picture of the men at Mission Control (both figuratively and literally on screen). They

were “At the console in the big room, men in shirtsleeves” looking over sheets of paper

and instrument panels. As the New York Times proclaimed, the crew lay “crippled” and

the flight director Lunney was “making the decisions.”119Astronaut turned Mission

Controller, Deke Slayton, said “We’ve got things well under control.”120

The craft’s water shortage limited the astronauts’ use of their navigation systems

and the astronauts coasted home without any “sense of direction.”121 While reflecting on

the 1995 movie Apollo 13, Launius described the scene in building 30 as an “interesting transference of masculine power from the astronauts” to the Mission Controllers.122

Aboard the capsule the astronauts represented a lack of rugged individualism and control.

The astronauts image symbolized the Cold War masculinity crisis.

The news of the stranded astronauts shocked the world. One American girl in

New York City said, “‘It all seemed fairly routine. I wasn’t all that excited when they

walked on the moon…. now, of course, I want them back.’” Before the launch, Milan’s

newspaper IL Girono reported that the American space feats were: “Too Perfect; the

Public is Getting Bored.” After the flight, confusion over America’s exceptional image of technical prowess led a Japanese business man to ask “‘How could it happen?’”123

Countries around the world including Britain, West Germany, Spain, Italy, South Africa,

Brazil, and the Soviet Union offered aid to the astronauts in the form of ships and

planes.124

On 17 April 1970, Apollo 13 returned to the earth’s atmosphere in a “perfect”

landing in the Pacific Ocean. Such a perfect landing required “intricate maneuvering,”

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which was not conducted by the jet test pilot astronauts alone, but rather required both the improvisation of Mission Control and the execution of the astronauts.125 Mission Control

and the astronauts both worked out the necessary steps to detach the lunar and command

modules. The necessary separation saved the fuel from exploding during reentry. The

USS Iwo Jima picked up the astronauts as they landed in the Pacific. Mission controllers erupted into cheers, lighting cigars and downing champagne.126 After the safe return of

the astronauts, the media and Director Paine hailed the feat as a “triumph of teamwork.”127 Mission control “Hails Aquarius Performance.” Low stated that never before had a mission required “as much from the men flying the machines as this one has.”128 Which men he is referring to is unclear.

The New York Times’s Joseph Lelyveld summarized the uniqueness of the

astronauts not for their “courage or the perils they faced,” but rather that it was their

“training and technical expertise” that made them part of a “unique fraternity.” He

suggested that transforming Apollo 13’s mission from one of scientific and technical

importance, to one that focused on simple needs such as air, oxygen, and lifeboat,

transformed the astronauts into Odysseus facing the Cyclops and longing to return to

Penelope.

Of course we knew that their return would be impossible without the computers and simulators and expert technologists arrayed in their orderly rows. But in the final 14 minutes of flight, when the tiny capsule hurled back into the earth’s atmosphere at last we found ourselves talking of “recovery” and “acquisition”—simple, supremely non- technical concepts,….129 For their courage, President Nixon awarded the Medal of Freedom, America’s highest

civilian honor, to the three astronauts in Hawaii. However, before he did so he stopped by

Houston and awarded the Medal of Freedom to the Apollo 13 ground crew. Director of

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Flight Operations at the Manned Space Center, Sigurd A. Sjoberg, accepted the award on behalf of mission control. Nixon declared the date a national day of prayer and thanksgiving.130

The United States had kept its promise. NASA landed a man on the moon before

the end of the decade. The United States conducted its Space Race openly, fulfilling its

word to create a balance in the duality of space technology: technology for military

purposes, but most importantly, technology for peace. Peace through strength prevailed.

Space technology shifted once again. This new purpose of space technology came to the

forefront of the space narrative, causing a manifestation of the image of spaceflight that

carried itself into the shuttle era. New space technology proved useful for space science.

Some feared a scientist-astronaut would not be called into space. Even though Apollo

17’s crew had yet to be decided, as of May 1971, there were no scientist-astronauts listed as any of the crewmembers for Apollo 15 or Apollo 16. Only scientist-astronaut Jack

Schmitt was listed as one of the back-up crew for Apollo 15.

Scientists felt betrayed. In the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, scientists wrote a scathing opinion piece entitled “Requiem for the Scientists-Astronauts.” The article maintained the importance of space science to the missions and thus, the necessity of the scientists to the crew. Claiming that Gordon Cooper perceived crew selection to be part of “politics,” the article defended the ability of the scientist-astronauts to pilot the space capsules and lunar modules. Suggesting that the jet pilot image was deemed necessary by

NASA for the space flyer image, the article purported that when it came to space technology, “The Apollo command module is controlled primarily by an on-board computer, and space craft activities, both routine and emergency are generally supervised and directed by ground control.”131

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A week after the 7 August 1971 landing of Apollo 15, NASA announced that it

would in fact send up a scientist-astronaut, Harrison “Jack” Schmitt, in Apollo 17 as the

crew’s lunar module pilot. The Arizona Republic suggested that NASA reluctantly

“bowed to scientific pressures.” The scientist-astronauts no longer wanted to be treated as

“window dressing.” NASA kept Commander Eugene Cernan and Command Modular

Pilot Ronald Evans as Schmitt’s fellow crew members. With Schmitt’s appointment, the

“pilot-oriented” group made “concessions.” Much to Cernan’s dismay, NASA scraped astronaut Joseph H. Engle from the crew. The original three crewmembers had been training together for months.132

The announcement elated the scientific community, especially scientist-astronaut

champion, Wernher von Braun. Von Braun reflected upon the achievements of the

Apollo program before the last launch to the moon. To von Braun, the importance of

Apollo was not only that Americans successfully landed men on the moon. The landing

highlighted the importance of manned spaceflight as opposed to unmanned spaceflight.

Since the beginning, Americans championed the need for manned spaceflight. Von Braun

argued, “Each Apollo mission, including the ill-fated Apollo 13, confirmed and expanded

the role of man in space. What little doubt remains about the wisdom of the NASA

manned space program will be resolved in the upcoming Skylab space station….” Not

only did Apollo demonstrate the importance of man in space over robots in space, but

von Braun also defended his original vision of a space flyer, that of the scientist. To the

German scientist, Apollo proved not only the suitability of the pilots in space, but also the

necessity of his fellow scientists on future flights.133 As von Braun excitedly awaited the

first astronaut-scientist flight, other pundits had fascinating insights into this new image

of the spacefarer. Earl Ubell professed:

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Apollo 15 probably marks the end of the supremacy of the racing car drivers in space—the men who spring beyond our atmosphere for national prestige, for flexing engineering muscle, for adventure or just for getting there. With this flight, scientists have finally won parity with, if not ascendency over, engineers and publicists.134 Apollo 17 received little network media attention. The commercial television stations only sporadically interrupted programs on Apollo updates. Cable appeared to be a better medium for spaceflights but even there few viewers tuned in.135 While lackluster coverage appeared onscreen, newspapers, especially the New York Times, continued with their barrage of coverage. Journalists asked what Americans had learned from Apollo.

While assuaging critics of the 26 billion dollar price tag on space exploration, historian at the Smithsonian Institute, Dr. Daniel J. Boorstin, proposed that NASA acted more as a cultural representative in space. Much like Dryden argued in 1962, Boorstin proposed that “The great thing about space exploration is that we don’t know what its payoff will be. This symbolizes the American civilization. The people who settled America had no idea what the payoff would be. They settled it before they explored it.”136 Times sports writer, Nelson Bryant, wrote passionately of the qualities of the astronaut:

They are the most daring, dedicated and disciplined hunter- explorers mankind has ever known, willing and even eager riders of machines in the infancy of their development, performing tasks with their bodies and minds beyond the reach of technology.137 Bryant described the astronauts as not only rugged but paradoxically he wrote that they were surprisingly “human and fragile.”138

Despite questions over the benefits of federal money spent on space exploration and the routinization of space, Americans flocked to Cape Kennedy for the last Apollo mission. About half a million spectators arrived. They saw the teamwork of humans and machines as 30 seconds before the scheduled liftoff the “computer signal halted 259

countdown.” The liquid oxygen in the third and top stage did not pressurize

automatically. Man triumphed over the computer. Worried that the launch might not

occur as scheduled, Mission Control feverously checked the problem. They decided to

switch to manual and pressurized the liquid oxygen. The New York Times hailed the feat

as “Experts Tricked the Computer.”139 Two and a half hours later, on 7 December 1972,

the countdown was back on and Apollo 17 blasted into space.140

When NASA launched Apollo 17 into space the mission became not only

symbolic as being the last Apollo manned lunar flight, but it also became the first manned

space mission with a scientist-astronaut crewmember.141 Journalists saw scientist-

astronaut Jack Schmitt as different. Not only had Dr. Schmitt learned to fly “after being

named an astronaut,” but unlike the previous astronauts, he was not going into space for

“adventure” but rather “science.” According to the New York Times, many astronauts

believed a lunar landing would be too difficult for anyone who was not a career pilot.

However, through his training, Schmitt proved that “a geologist could learn to fly

spacecraft as competently as a test pilot.”142 The scientists were in. A different masculine image apart from that of the lone wolf jet test pilot had entered the astronaut corps and the discourse of American manned spaceflight. Schmitt’s flight commenced the domestication of spaceflight and the end of the rugged individual astronaut.

Conclusion Journalists, politicians, and NASA praised the teamwork of the new scientist- astronauts, astronauts, and building 30. As Flight Director Gene Kranz looked around

Mission Control, a sense of satisfaction swept over him. He wanted the one thing that every manned flight since Mercury had. He wanted a mission patch. He wanted one

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specifically for Mission Control. Talking with patch designer Bob McCall, Kranz

“emotionally” remembered:

We fought and won the race in space and listened to the cries of the Apollo 1 crew. With great resolve and personal anger, we picked up the pieces, pounded them together, and went on the attack again. We were the ones in the trenches of space and with only the tools of leadership, trust, and teamwork, we contained the risks and made the conquest of space possible.143 While they may not have won the initial debate over who would fly into space,

the “squares” carved out a new identity for themselves as scientist-astronauts. The

scientists had entered the closed community of the astronaut, but as a hyphenated

member of the corps. Slowly spaceflight, like commercial flight, was becoming routine.

With the routinization of spaceflight came passengers. Passengers meant that women could fly. Women symbolized the domestication of spaceflight. The question of who could fly was broadening. The introduction of the scientist-astronauts, sophisticated technology, and teamwork with Mission Control led the pilot astronaut to question his control over the capsule. As the astronaut moved farther away from the rugged individual controlling his capsule, he became closer to the organization man. The astronaut no longer symbolized a superior American Cold War masculinity. Instead he symbolized the

Cold War masculinity crisis.

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1. Chapter title borrowed from the Huey Lewis and the News song "Hip to be Square" written by Bill Gibson, Sean Hopper, and Huey Lewis (Fore! Chrysalis Records, 1986).

2. Associated Press, “3 Apollo Astronauts Die in Fire; Grissom, White, Chaffee Caught in Capsule During Test on Pad,” New York Times, January 28, 1967, 1, 10. On page 10, it was originally reported by the press that the 3 astronauts “had no knowledge that there was a serious problem aboard,” and that their death was “instantaneous.” John Noble Wilford, “3 Astronauts’ Tape Ended With Get Us Out of Here,” New York Times, January 31, 1967, 1, 24. See also, Cape Kennedy (UPI and AP), “Astronauts Clawed at Sealed Hatch, Report Says,” Bucks County (Levittown, Pennsylvania) Courier Times, January 31, 1967, 2, 26; New York (AP), “Cries from Astronauts are on Tape,” Lawrence (Kansas) Journal World, January 31, 1967, 1; New York (AP), “Chaffee Made Last Cry from Burning Craft,” Twin Falls (Idaho) Times News, January 31, 1967, 1.

3. Evert Clark, “Apollo Program Dealt Hard Blow,” New York Times, January 28, 1967, 1, 10. The astronaut crew of Gemini IX, Elliot See Jr. and Charles Bassett II, both perished on 28 February 1966, when their T-38 crashed during a training exercise.

4. “Grief Expressed the World Over,” New York Times, January 29, 1967, 49; London (AP), “Russians Broadcast Message of Sympathy after Apollo Fire,” Yuma Daily Sun, January 29, 1967, 1.

5. Ralph Morse, “Put Them High on the List of Men Who Count,” Life, February 3, 1967, 18. See also, Ken Leach, “Memories of Gus Grissom; A Small, Quiet Astronaut Leaves a Note for History,” Pampa (Texas) Daily News, January 29, 1967, 1, 3.

6. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 204.

7. Kennedy Space Center, “Apollo Goals,” NASA, http://science.ksc.nasa.gov/history/apollo/apollo-goals.txt (accessed, September 10, 2011).

8. Stuart Auerbach, “Flight Controllers are Organized Like a Football Squad,” Washington Post, July 19, 1969, A8, A7.

9. “Wally Shoots for Three” Life, October 25, 1968, 36.

10. “11 Days Aboard Apollo 7” Life, December 6, 1968, 76.

11. Ibid., 78, 80.

12. John Noble Wilford, “Schirra Nettled Over New Tests,” New York Times, October 1, 1968, 7. 262

13. John Noble Wilford, “U.S. Prepares Moon Shot in December,” New York Times, October 23, 1968, 1, 23. See also, New York Times Service, “Apollo Flight Director is No Johnny-Come-Lately,” Press-Telegram (Longbeach, California), October 23, 1968, 9. To note, the astronauts have strong input and do help design some of the capsules systems.

14. IBM, advertisement, New York Times, October 23, 1968, 23.

15. See William David Compton, Where No Man Has Gone Before: A History of Apollo Lunar Exploration Missions (Washington, D.C.: NASA SP-4214, 1989).

16. Dora Jane Hamblin, “Christmas Cheers on the Apollo 8 Home front,” Life, January 10, 1969, 79, 81.

17. Ibid.

18. “Apollo’s Voyage Called Safer than Columbus’s,” New York Times, December 19, 1968, 56; Homer Bigart, “New-Breed Astronauts: Scientists, Not Daredevils,” New York Times, December 30, 1968, 1.

19. “Apollo’s Voyage Called Safer than Columbus’s,” 56.

20. “A Crew With Brains and Experience,” New York Times, December 22, 1968, 36. See also “Triumph!” in “The Week in Review,” New York Times, December 29, 1968, 1E.

21. Frank Boreman, “‘A Science Fiction World-Awesome, Forlorn, Beauty,’” Life, January 17, 1969, 27.

22. William Anders, “‘The Black Side: Pulverized, Like a Battlefield,” Life, January 17, 1969, 30.

23. Boreman, “‘A Science Fiction World-Awesome, Forlorn, Beauty,’” Life, 28.

24. James Lovell, “‘Earth We are Forsaking You for the Moon,’” Life, January 17, 1969, 29.

25. “Home From the Moon,” Atlanta Constitution, December 28, 1968, 5.

26. Associate Press, “Pinpoint Return Completes Apollo Success,” Eau Claire (Wisconsin) Ledger, December 28, 1968, 1.

27. “Launching Operations Chief Likes Job to Football Coach’s,” New York Times, December 22, 1968, 37. 263

28. “Apollo Workers Display Rare Emotions After Feat,” New York Times, December 28, 1968, 14.

29. “Head Man at NASA: Thomas Otten Paine,” New York Times, December 28, 1968, 14.

30. Eugene Rabinowitch, “Reflections on Apollo 8,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, 24, no. 10, (March 1969): 2.

31. Ibid.

32. Walter Sullivan, “Computer Aids Navigation of Apollo 8 Crewmen,” New York Times, December 24, 1968, 7.

33. “Men of the Year,” Time, January 3, 1969, 9.

34. Ibid.

35. United Press International, “U.S. on Moon in May, Soviet Expert Says,” Atlanta Constitution, December 29, 1968, 4-A.

36. Vern Haughland (Associated Press), “U.S. Could ‘Shoot for Moon’; Apollo 9 has Opened Possibility; Astronauts Flying back to Houston,” News-Pallidium (Benton Harbor, Michigan), March 14, 1969, 1, back page; and John Noble Wilford, “Apollo 9 Splashes Down Accurately; Opens Way for Summer Moon Landing,” New York Times, March 14, 1969, 1, 22.

37. Associated Press, “5 Firsts and 3 Records for Flight,” New York Times, March 14, 1969, 14.

38. Wilford, “Apollo 9 Splashes Down Accurately,” 22.

39. John Noble Wilford, “The Apollo 9 Astronauts Take a Restful Cruise Through Space,” New York Times, March 10, 1969, 40.

40. Associated Press, “Ground Control System Lets Apollo Crew Sleep,” New York Times, March 4, 1969, 14.

41. William K. Stevens, “Computer on Board Apollo Does the Flying; 3 Astronauts Permit Electronic System to Run Main Task,” New York Times, March 4, 1969, 14. The same article by William K. Stevens can be found in the Albuquerque Tribune, under the headline “Ingenious Guidance System; Computer Does Apollo 9 ‘Driving,” March 4, 1969, 1, A5. See also, John Barbour (AP), “Astronauts, Looking Like ‘Band of

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Elephants,’ Fire Rockets Twice on Second Day of Mission,” Daily Sitka (Alaska) Sentinel, March 4, 1969, 1, 6. 42. John Noble Wilford, “Apollo Maneuver Delayed Briefly By Sloshing Fuel,” New York Times, March 9, 1969, 1, 52. Wilford’s article also appears in Salt Lake Tribune under the headline “Apollo Adjusts Orbit, Solves Rocket Snarl,” March 9, 1969, 1, 14. See also, New York Times, Houston, “A Quiet Day in Space, Apollo’s Main Rocket Sputters, then Fires,” Southern Illinoisan (Carbondale, Illinois), March 9, 1969, 5.

43. “The Man Behind the Men in Space,” New York Times, March 10, 1969, 41.

44. Associated Press, “President Acclaims Apollo 9 Launching,” New York Times, March 4, 1969, 14.

45. Associated Press, “Nixon Lauds Astronauts’ Performance,” Washington Post, March 14, 1969, A 4.

46. Courtney G. Brooks, James M. Grimwood, and Loyd S. Swenson Jr., Chariots for Apollo: A History of Manned Lunar Spacecraft (Washington, D.C. NASA, SP-4205, 1979), 303-312.

47. United Press International, “‘Greatest Moment of Our Time,’ Says the President,” Charlotte Observer, July 21, 1969, 1.

48. William K. Stevens, “What Kind of Men Are They,” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 31.

49. Dora Jane Hamblin, “Neil Armstrong Refuses to ‘Waste Any Heartbeats,’” Life, July 4, 1969, 18-19.

50. Ibid.

51. William K. Stevens, “What Kind of Men Are They,” 31, 36.

52. Gene Farmer, “Buzz Aldrin has ‘The Best Scientific Mind We Have Send Into Space,’” Life, July 4, 1969, 22-25.

53. William K. Stevens, “What Kind of Men Are They,” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 31.

54. David Nevin, “Collins Has Cool to Cope With Space and the Easter Bunny,” Life, July 4, 1969, 27, 26.

55. Richard Witkin, “Shortly Before Landing, Armstrong Took Over From Computer,” New York Times, July 21, 1969, 12.

265

56. Robert S. Boyd, “Crew does it’s Work on Lunar Surface,” Charlotte Observer, July 21, 1969, 1. 57. Richard Pothier, “How Armstrong Took Over to Land LEM,” Charlotte Observer, July 21, 1969, 12A.

58. Richard Lewis (Houston, CS-T), “To Houston, Crew, LM Landing ‘Hairy,’” Birmingham News, July 21, 1969, 24.

59. Jack Nelson, “U.S. Called Fortunate in Unmanned Landings; Official Notes Rough Terrain, Says Eagle Might have had Trouble Without a Pilot,” Los Angeles Times, July 21, 1969,

60. John Noble Wilford, “LM is Jettisoned,” New York Times, July 22, 1969.

61. Stuart Auerbach, “Crew Has Trained as a Unit For Any Space Eventuality,” Washington Post, July 17, 1969, A7.

62. John J. Goldman and Nicholas C. Chriss, “Mission Control to Eagle: Houston Cool Heads to Spacemen Trio,” Los Angeles Times, July 21, 1969, 3. It was Flight Director Gene Kranz who ordered Mission Control to “Play it Cool.”

63. Arnold J. Toynbee, “Some Thoughts on the Moon Landing,” Charlotte Observer, July 21, 1969, 11A.

64. Richard Homan, “267 in Congress to Fly to Cape,” Washington Post, July 15, 1969, A4.

65. William Greider, “Astronauts Will Deposit Silicon Disc Filled With VIP Names, Messages,” Washington Post, July 15, 1969, A4. To note, Senegal is a small country on the Western horn of Africa.

66. Associated Press, “America Cheers Feat With Few Dissenting,” Montgomery Advertiser, July 21, 1969, 2. See also, Half a Billion Watch on TV: Earthlings Dance, Shout and Pray As Astronauts “Conquer’ the Moon,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 21, 1969, A5.

67. Associated Press (London), “Britons Screamed, Chileans Danced,” Montgomery Advertiser, July 21, 1969, 1. It should be noted that while the AP reported that the world rejoiced in the feat, the AP wrote that the Soviet Union reported “briefly and without fanfare” of the American achievement. At the time of the American moon landing, the Soviet Union was attempting to land an unmanned satellite, Luna 15, onto the surface of the moon. See also, New York Times Wire Service, “Crosses Apollo Path: Russians Place Luna 10 Miles Above Moon,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 21, 1969, A9; Bernard Gwertzman and James F. Clarity (New York Times Wire Service), “Soviets Praise Apollo; Luna 15 Hits, Ends Job,” Courier Journal, (Louisville, K.Y.), July 22, 1969, 1 and AP 266

(Cape Kennedy), “Luna Rocket May Soft Land on the Moon,” Montgomery Advertiser, July 17, 1969, 1. For other world reaction to the landing, see, R. W. Apple Jr. (New York Times Wire Service), “Landing Intrigues Africans, Who Ask About Falling Off and Moon’s Size,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 22, 1969; Associated Press (London), “Indian Fears Moon Landing May Darken Earth, Free Monsters,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 22, 1969; and Associated Press (London), “Iroquois Fear Monsters, “Praise Echoes Around Globe but Some Voices Superstitious,” Los Angeles Times, July 22, 1969, 2.

68. “Johnson Says Feat Shows ‘We Can Do Anything’” New York Times, July 21, 1969, 15.

69. Carroll Kilpatrick, “Apollo 11 Holiday Set For Monday,” Washington Post, July 17, 1969, A1. See also, Walter Rugaber, “Nixon Calls for a Holiday So All Can Share in ‘Glory’” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 1, 22.

70. Ibid., A8. The Los Angeles City Council felt differently and voted 10 to 1 not to give their public employees the day off. See Lawrence Van Gelder, “For Most in U.S., A Day of Joy And Reverence,” New York Times, July 22, 1969, 1, 28. However, the Governors of Georgia, Oregon, South Carolina, Florida, and Maryland gave state employees the day off, as did various cities throughout the U.S. See, Richard T. Cooper, “Midwesterners Take Time Out for Apollo 11—but Not Much; Unprecedented Space Drama Brings Brief, Warm Praise but Does not Disturb the Everyday Chores,” Los Angeles Times, July 22, 1969, 3; Associated Press (Washington), “No Decision in Alabama: Nixon Urges Holiday Monday,” Montgomery Advertiser, July17, 1969, 1.

71. “In New York, Fatigue for TV Watchers,” New York Times, July 22, 1969, 28.

72. AP, “America Cheers Feat With Few Dissenting,” 2.

73. Walter Rugaber, “Parades and a Reception Set in 3 Cities on Aug. 13,” New York Times, July 23, 1969, 1, 26. See also, Nicholas C. Chriss, “President Plans Aug. 13 Tour for Astronauts, Ending in L.A.,” Los Angeles Times, July 22, 1969, 1.

74. Dennis Washburn, “City Streets Ghostly, Breaths Short as Moonwatch a Unanimous Tubewatch,” Birmingham News, July 21, 1969, 5.

75. Pat Houtz, “Apollo Success Brings Rejoicing for Huntsville,” Birmingham News, July 22, 1969, Second Front Page.

76. Associated Press, “Apollo, Luna Show Up U.S. Superiority,” Birmingham News, July 22, 1969, 1.

77. Ibid., 26.

267

78. Harold M. Schmeck Jr., “The Navigation is Practically Perfect,” New York Times, July 25, 1969, 30. 79. Richard Witkin (New York Times News Service), “Eagle’s Descent to the Moon Mostly in Computer’s Hands,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 21, 1969, A9.

80. Suville R. Davis, “Not Just By Way of the Moon: The World Will Continue to Judge U.S. by the Quality of its Civilization,” Christian Science Monitor, July 21, 1969, 1, 5.

81. David Bowie writer, “Space Oddity,” on album Space Oddity. Producer Gus Dudgeon, released July 11, 1969, Phillips Records (U.K.), Mercury Records (U.S.).

82. Flora Lewis, “Human Paradox: A Contrast between Capacity, Deficiency,” Courier- Journal, July 22, 1969, Editorials.

83. “‘A Giant Leap for Mankind’ From this Precarious Planet,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 22, 1969, Editorials.

84. London (AP), “Millions Around the World Hang on Astronauts’ Words,” Birmingham News, July 21, 1969, 6.

85. Keyes Beech (Saigon, CDN), “Not Really Excited—Moon Walk? Good, Says GIs in Saigon,” Birmingham News, July 21, 1969.

86. John H. Sengstackk, editor and publisher “Earthly Questions,” Chicago Defender, July 22, 1969, 13.

87. William Greider, “Protesters, VIPs, Flood Cape Area,” Washington Post, July 16, 1969, A7. See also, Steve Huntley, “SCLC IN Space Parlay,” Chicago Defender, July 16, 1969, 4. See also Ann Eskridge, “SCLC At Blastoff Site,” Chicago Defender, July 15, 1969, 3.

88. Bernard Weinraub “At the Launching, Turbulent America in Microcosm,” New York Times, July 20, 1969, E1.

89. “Our Prayers Go With You,” Afro-American (Baltimore), July 26, 1969, 3.

90. Thomas A. Johnson, “Blacks and Apollo; Most Could’ve Cared Less,” New York Times, July 27, 1969, E6.

91. Vincent Paka, “Barry Slams Apollo 11 Mission,” Washington Post, July 19, 1969, A9.

92. J. Anthony Lukas (New York Times News Service), “Back On Earth, Many U.S. Citizens Still Seeking to Discover America,” Courier-Journal (Louisville), July 21, 1969, A8. 268

93. “Moon Shot Unites U.S. For Instant,” Chicago Defender, July 21, 1969, 1, 3. See also, “Chicagoans Hail Historic Moon Walk… But,” Chicago Defender, July 22, 1969, 3 To note, the morning after the moon landing the Defender printed a picture of Poncho the Chimp, one of the original astronauts, dressed in a space outfit, holding up a newspaper that read “Man on the Moon,” with a glass of champagne in the other hand. (same edition)

94. Johnson, “Blacks and Apollo,” E6.

95. Joseph Morgenstem, “Moon Age: New Dawn?” Newsweek, July 7, 1969, 41.

96. William Greider, “Houston Watches: Awe, Laughter,” Washington Post, July 21, 1969, A8. To note, the LEM on Mission Control’s campus is a full size model; See also, Franz Scholz, “At Moonship Command Center, Vigilance, Optimism,” Lowell Sun (Lowell, Massachusetts), July 17, 1969, 1. To note, during the building of the Lunar Modular in the early 1960s, engineers referred to it as a Lunar Excursion Module (LEM). During the building of the Lunar Rover, the “excursion” was dropped from LEM. However, LM is still pronounced “LEM.” For more information see, Paul Dickson, A Dictionary of the Space Age (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009), 116.

97. Greider, “Houston Watches,” A8.

98. Ibid., 40, 55.

99. Thomas O’Toole, “Launch Chief is the ‘Law’: Rocco Petrone’s Image in Space Agency Is Like Vince Lombardi’s in Sports,” Washington Post, July 17, 1969, A7

100. “Four Men in the Background Played Key Apollo 11 Roles,” Washington Post, July 25, 1969, A14. Associated Press, “The Men Behind Apollo 11 Flight,” Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota), July 17, 1969, 5.

101. Morgenstem, “Moon Age: New Dawn?” Newsweek, 41.

102. Victor Cohn, “Christopher Columbus Kraft: ‘He Gives the Orders!’” Washington Post, July 19, 1969, A8.

103. Sam C. Phillips, “The NASA System: A Meshing of Many Parts, People, and Ideas,” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 35.

104. Drew Pearson, “Apollo Teamwork is Needed on Earth,” Washington Post, July 21, 1969, C7; See also, “The Planetary Age,” Newport Daily News (Rhode Island), July 25, 1969, 8; and Morris Harris, “‘A Path not an End,’” Joplin Globe, July 25, 1969, 6B.

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105. James Clayton, “Apollo Lesson: Where There’s a Will…” Washington Post, July 25, 1969, A26.

106. Christopher C. Kraft Jr., “Computers and Controllers,” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 36. See also, Associated Press, “The Men Behind Apollo 11 Flight,” 5; and Christopher Kraft, “Hundreds in Use; Computer Biggest Factor in Getting to the Moon,” Charleston (West Virginia) Gazette, July 17, 1969, 9.

107. George M. Low, “In Developing Space Hardware, Human Judgment Still Counts Most,” New York Times, July 17, 1969, 36.

108. IBM, advertisement, Washington Post, July 25, 1969, A9. 109. Westinghouse Electric Corporation, advertisement, New York Times, July 23, 1969, 21.

110. William K. Stevens, “Intricate Communications System Speeds the Apollo’s Words, Data, and Pictures,” New York Times, July 22, 1969, 26.

111. General Electric, advertisement, New York Times, July 28, 1969, 16-17.

112. Victor Cohn, “Moon Walk Yields Data for Science,” Washington Post, July 21, 1969, A1, A10.

113. Andrew Chaikin, A Man on the Moon: The Voyages of the Apollo Astronauts (New York: Penguin Books, 1995,) 261. See also, Brooks, Grimwood, and Swenson Jr., Chariots For Apollo, 365-366.

114. Earl Ubell, “Apollo 12: Testing New Role for Man in Space,” New York Times, November 9, 1969, E8; and Associated Press, “Astronaut Conrad Called Expert on Moon Geology,” Hobbs-Daily News Sun (New Mexico), November 9, 1969, 20.

115. “Substitute Swigert, 38, Has a Girl in Every (Air) Port,” New York Times, April 12, 1970, 60.

116. John Noble Wilford, “Power Failure Imperils Astronauts; Apollo Will Head Back to the Earth,” New York Times, April 14, 1970, 1; Associated Press, “Ship is Crippled; Friday Splashdown Planned for Apollo,” Oshkosh Daily Northwestern (Wisconsin), April 14, 1970, 1; Houston (AP), “‘We’ve Got a Problem Here,’ Lovell Said Calmly,” Billings Daily Gazette (Montana), April 14, 1970, 1; Houston (UPI), “Moon Trip Off; Astronauts in Danger,” Angus (Freemont, California), April 14, 1970, 1; and see also, Peter Grose, “U.S. Says Soviet Nuclear Sub Apparently Sank in the Atlantic,” New York Times, April 14, 1970, 1, 15.

117. Ibid.

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118. Ibid.

119. John Noble Wilford, “Crew of Crippled Apollo 13 Starts Back After Rounding Moon and Firing Rocket; Men Appear Calm Despite Low Reserves,” New York Times, April 15, 1970, 1; see also, Martin Waldron, “Flight Director Is Making the Decisions,” New York Times, April 16, 1970, 30; Houston (AP), “Successful Firing Puts Lunar Craft Back on Course For Splashdown,” The Ada Evening News (Oklahoma), April 16, 1970, 1-2; Houston (AP), “Course Change Critical to Apollo 13 Re-entry,” Bedford Gazette (Pennsylvania), April 16, 1970, 1, 10; and Paul Recer (AP), “Hundreds Working Calmly to Get Men Home Safely,” Oneonta Star (New York), April 16, 1970, 1.

120. John Noble Wilford, “Stricken Apollo Speeding Toward Earth for Pacific Splashdown This Afternoon,” New York Times, April 17, 1970, 1.

121. Walter Sullivan, “Apollo’s Craft’s Water Shortage Will Limit Astronauts’ Use of Guidance System,” New York Times, April 15, 1970, 28.

122. Launius, “Heroes in a Vacuum,” 207.

123. Martin Arnold, “Plight of 3 Crewmen Stirs World Interest and Prayer,” New York Times, April 15, 1970, 29; Associated Press, “World Prays for Safe Return of Astronauts,” Arizona (Phoenix) Republic, April 16, 1970, 40; and see also, United Press International, “Soviets Join Other Nations in Pledging Aid,” Bedford Gazette (Pennsylvania), April 16, 1970, 1.

124. Richard D. Lyons, “12 Countries Offer to Help In Recovery of Astronauts,” New York Times, April 16, 1970, 1, 30; UPI, “Soviets Join Other Nations in Pledging Aid,” 1.

125. John Noble Wilford, “Astronauts Land Gently on Target, Unharmed by Their Four- Day Ordeal,” New York Times, April 18, 1970, 1, 12; Washington Post Service, “Astronauts Exhausted After Ordeal in Space,” Arizona (Phoenix) Republic, April 18, 1970, 48; and Bill Stockton, “Astronauts Thaw Out on Carrier; NASA Not Ready to Speculate on Apollo 14 Flight,” Independent Press Telegram, (Long Beach, California), April 18, 1970, 1.

126. Martin Waldron, “Applause, Cigars and Champagne Toasts Greet Capsule’s Landing,” New York Times, April 18, 1970, 13; Washington Post Service, “Everything Fell into Place in the Last Few Minutes,” Arizona (Phoenix) Republic, April 18, 1970, 48; and Houston (AP), “Mission Control Wins Game As Odyssey’s Chutes Open,” Victoria Advocate (Victoria, Texas), April 18, 1970, 9;

127. Harold M. Schmeck Jr., “NASA to Review Space Accident,” New York Times, April 18, 1970, 1.

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128. John Noble Wilford, “Astronauts Land Gently on Target,” 1, 12. Aquarius was the name of the Lunar Module.

129. Joseph Lelyveld, “Apollo 13: Moment of Exaltation,” New York Times, April 18, 1970, 13.

130. Robert B. Semple Jr., “Nixon to Give Medal to Crew in Hawaii,” New York Times, April 18, 1970, 1.

131. Richard S. Lewis, “Requiem for the Scientist-Astronauts,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 27, no. 5, (May 1971): 17-18.

132. “Pursestrings might loosen for space program of U.S.,” Arizona (Phoenix) Republic, October 2, 1971, 85.

133. Werner von Braun, “Space Pioneer Reflects on Apollo’s Achievement,” New York Times, December 3, 1972, 68.

134. Earl Ubell, “The Time Of the Scientists Has Come,” New York Times, July 25, 1971, E6.

135. John L O’Connor, “Apollo 17 Coverage Gets Little Viewer Response,” New York Times, December 14, 1972, B95.

136. “Last Apollo Wednesday; Scholars Assess Program; 23-Billion Space Project Ran 11 Years; Cape Kennedy Presses Countdown; Last Apollo Flight Sets Off Evaluation,” New York Times, December 3, 1972, 68.

137. Nelson Bryant, “Wood, Field and Stream; Astronauts Turn a Hunter’s Attention From Buckshot, to a Moonshot,” New York Times, December 3, 1972, S11.

138. Ibid.

139. Richard Witkin, “Experts Tricked the Computer,” New York Times, December 8, 1972, 30.

140. John Noble Wilford, “Apollo Launched on Final Flight To Moon After 2 ½-Hour Delay Caused By Problems With Rocket; A Flash In Night; Computer Signal Halts Countdown With 30 Seconds to Go; Apollo Launched On Last mission to Moon After Delay” New York Times, December 7, 1972, 1. See also, Richard Witkin, “Flight Is Halted By A ‘Sequencer;’ The Automatic Device Came Into Play Only 3 Minutes Before Scheduled Firing,” New York Times, December 7, 1972, 60.

141. “Geologist Schmitt and Combat Flier Evans on Apollo,” Chicago Tribune, December 7, 1972, Section 1, 4. 272

142. “3 Men on Last Apollo Moon Flight; Eugene Andrew Cernan; Harrison Hagan Schmitt; Ronald Ellwin Evans,” New York Times, December 8, 1972, 30.

143. Gene Kranz, Failure is Not An Option: Mission Control from Mercury to Apollo and Beyond (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2000), 376.

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CHAPTER VIII

CONCLUSION: TO INFINITY AND BEYOND1

On 21 November 1962, President Kennedy met with his science advisor Jerome

Weisner, NASA administrators James Webb, Hugh Dryden, Robert C. Seamans Jr., and the director of the Office of Management and Budget, David E. Bell. They discussed the

top priority of the space program and the upcoming NASA budget. Kennedy restated that

“the whole thrust” of the program should be the manned lunar landing. In the “race” for

the moon, landing a man on the moon first was important for both domestic and

international “political reasons.” Kennedy told his advisors that he did not care for space

science. Webb interrupted. He reminded the president that scientifically they knew nothing about the environment of the moon. Kennedy seemed confused and irritated by

Webb. Kennedy knew these “other things” were “desirable but they can wait.” Weisner exclaimed, “We don’t know a damn thing about the surface of the moon and we’re making the wildest guesses about how we’re going to land on the moon.” Without scientific studies of the moon’s surface, the landing would be risky. Seamans added that he did not think it reasonable to “emasculate” space science if the administration encountered “budget problems.”2

Kennedy reiterated that the manned lunar landing was tied to beating the

Russians. Webb asked the president, “Why can’t it be tied to preeminence in space?”

Kennedy responded, “we’ve been telling everybody we’re preeminent in space for five years and nobody believes us….” Kennedy asserted that he “was not that interested in

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space” unless NASA could land a man on the moon. Landing a man on the moon was the

only justification for the multibillion dollar budget and their “pell-mell” style of planning.

Kennedy wanted to showcase the ability of the astronaut to fly to the moon. The race for

space was not only about technology, thrust, and rocket boosters, but it was also about

culture.3 The image of spaceflight was important. Space symbolized a reinvigorated

United States. The central importance of the race relied on the ability of the astronaut to

land on the moon. As the dissertation has argued, an early narrative of NASA existed in the American public discourse that emphasized the space flyer image, and the question of who could fly into space. The masculine image of the jet test pilot astronaut became part of the gendering of space in early American spaceflight.

Joseph Corn’s The Winged Gospel offers a narrative of aviation history apart from

the plane as a military tool. Looking at how aviation technology influenced American culture, Corn proposes that aviation technology became an instrument of “social reform.”

Writing on the Wright brothers’ first successful airplane design, Corn suggests, “The

pilot of an airplane seemingly possessed the freedom and control of a bird. At the

controls of the new invention he not only rose into the heavens but mastered them,

moving at will in three dimensions.” Corn contends that aviation technology can be viewed as “an instrument of reform, regeneration, and salvation; a substitute for politics, revolution or even religion.”4

Mastering the sky brought hope for a better future. Americans viewed the

conquest of space in the same manner. In the public discourse the astronaut represented

Americans regaining control over the fictional organization man. Americans equated the

pilot image to true rugged individualism. The astronaut was a new pioneer who flew

alone left to his own wits to survive and master both technology and the atmosphere. The

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astronaut mastered space technology and demonstrated masculinity through pilot control

of a space craft.

Corn suggests that the need for man to control the airplane began with the Wright

Brothers. The danger and excitement of flying quickly changed the pilot image from

refined white middle class bicycle mechanics to that of a hot-shot dare-devil. The rugged

individual pilot controlled the technology into the new frontier of the sky. In World War

II the public image of the flyer shifted from the autonomous stuntman to that of a heroic

team player. The World War II flyer did not risk his life for sport, but rather, to save his

country. The image of flying shifted again after the war. The Cold War era’s

commercialization of flight routinized and domesticated flying. The flyer became not the

pilot but the passenger. Flying in the Cold War era no longer symbolized strength and

bold exploits of individuals in control. Flying evolved into well earned leisure.

Passengers looked not for daring or adventure but for comfortable travel. Sophisticated

technology and the leisure of flight suggested that flying was easy for the whole family.

Passengers, leisure, and automation took the moxie, rugged individualism, and control

out of flying.5

Cold War pilots confronted conformity, automation, commercialization, leisure

and bureaucracy in flight. Flying became a metaphor for the masculinity crisis of the

1950s. As writers feared the downfall of white masculine control over society, the pilot

feared the loss of control over his own plane. To regain the moxie that flying once had, pilots continued to push the edge of the envelope to regain individual control. Flyers

wanted to go higher and faster than commercial jet liners. However, to reach faster speeds and higher altitudes the pilot was forced to rely on more automation and less on his physical strength and rugged individualism to control the machine. Just as

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intellectuals feared that the white male was losing individuality in society, the pilot feared the same. The discourse surrounding the astronaut image attempted to thwart the discussion of the pilot’s reliance on technology. The astronaut image brought hope for a future in which man was in control.

President Eisenhower wanted jet-test pilots as astronauts for their discipline. Jet- test pilots implied astronaut control over the space capsule. Americans clamored over the possibility of pilot control. Print media accounts, politicians, and astronauts attempted to regain the rugged individualism and control that the pilot, and average American men, once represented. They created a public discourse in which the lone wolf astronaut flew in space. Through his control over the space capsule, the astronaut embodied a superior

American masculinity. The astronaut image of rugged individualism and control represented an ideal Cold War masculinity. At the same time, Americans mocked the role of the cosmonaut as that of a passenger in space. The Cold War masculinity exercised by the American pilot astronaut demonstrated that the United States was not simply following the Soviets into space. Instead, with astronaut control the Americans conducted the Space Race on their own terms.

The astronauts controlled space through their control over the capsule. The focus on astronaut control in the public discourse created a cult of masculinity in space.

However, Americans forced NASA to confront the role of women within spaceflight. The image of astronaut control over the capsule dominated the discussion. Women could not fly a space capsule because they did not have jet test piloting experience. If NASA launched a woman into space, the public might question the control of the pilot over the capsule. If a woman could do it, could not anyone? Women represented passengers, not pilots. Female control of a capsule would have feminized spaceflight and thus the

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masculine sphere of space.6 Walter McDougal argued that the flight of Tereshkova proved to the Soviets that anyone could fly into space.7 But the Americans were different.

They did not follow the Soviets. They did not rely on automation. Americans did not rely

on machines. They relied on the pilot to control space. The pilot was the public image of

spaceflight, not the passenger. After Tereshkova’s flight, the American print media,

politicians, and astronauts continued to accentuate male astronaut control of spaceflight,

thus continuing the masculinization of both spaceflight and the astronaut image.

Space journalists, politicians, and astronauts paradoxically claimed Gemini to be

the first true space capsule controlled by an astronaut. While the Soviet Union performed

the first EVA, the Americans maintained that they performed the first spacewalk under

astronaut control. As the early NASA dialogue continued with astronaut control of the

capsule, in the background, engineers and scientists were slowly becoming part of the

greater dialogue of control over spaceflight. The introduction of scientists and engineers

into the astronaut corps changed the public image of astronaut Cold War masculinity. The

new scientist-astronaut did not symbolize physical control over the capsule, but rather, intellectual authority. Their lack of piloting experience questioned the need for pilots in space capsules. Spaceflight was becoming so routine, some believed, that even the

squares could fly a capsule.

Scientist-astronauts were not the only new men entering the discourse of spaceflight. As spaceflight became more complex, space journalists highlighted the engineers and scientists at Mission Control. Their masculine image also differed from the rugged individualist astronaut. These men work in teams. They conformed in dress. They were part of the corporation, the bureaucracy. They appeared to be the Cold War masculinity crisis’s enemy. They were the organization man.

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By the end of Gemini, the Americans surpassed the Soviets in manned spaceflight technology. American spaceflights performed so well that journalists wrote that like commercial flight, spaceflight was becoming routine. Apollo 1 and Apollo 13 questioned the routinization of spaceflight, and at times, who controlled the capsule. The Apollo 1 fire revealed a lack of control by astronauts, engineers, scientists, and technicians. The

Apollo 11 moon landing symbolized both team work and American preeminence in space. Apollo 13 demonstrated the control of not the astronauts but the scientists and engineers. The flight of the first scientist-astronaut aboard Apollo 17 represented the routnization and safety of spaceflight. The capsule did not need a rugged individual jet test pilot at the controls. The pilot astronaut was moving farther away from Cold War masculinity. He relied on computers, Mission Control, scientist-astronauts, and team work. He was becoming part of the organization, part of the bureaucracy. He did not represent a superior American masculinity. He was becoming a symbol of the Cold War masculinity crisis. Through the public discourse, Americans viewed space like a conquered frontier. Passengers would soon be able to fly. The Cold War pioneer astronaut struggled to find his proper role in the routninization of spaceflight.

The domestication of spaceflight commenced. In the fall of 1972, NASA Center directors met at the Peaks of Otter Lodge, just north of Roanoke, Virginia, to discuss the future of spaceflight. NASA administrator James C. Fletcher suggested that a “plan be developed for our next selection of astronauts, with full consideration being given to minority groups and women.”8 On 26 September 1972, Dale Meyers, Associate

Administrator for Manned Space Flight, sent a memorandum to Manned Spaceflight

Center (MSC) Director Kraft requesting that a plan to integrate minorities into the

astronaut corps be submitted to him by 1 February 1973.9

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The commissioning of the new space shuttles was important to opening up spaceflight for minorities. After Apollo 17 NASA busied itself with designing its first space shuttles. In 1972, the flight of the scientist-astronaut and the commission of the first passenger space shuttles marked the end of the rugged individual astronaut and the continuation of the Cold War masculinity crisis at NASA. Scientific adventures, it seemed, replaced death defying feats in space. The race was over. The United States won.

The astronauts and Mission Controllers had conquered space. Passengers could now fly, forever changing the image of spaceflight.

Budget cuts followed the end of the race. NASA clamored for a cost conscious reusable craft that would routinize spaceflight. In 1972, President Richard M. Nixon accepted the plans and funding for the future space shuttles Enterprise and Columbia.

Challenger, Discovery, and Atlantis followed in 1979. NASA did not commission

Endeavor until 1987. The United States also invested in space science. Between 1973 and

1979, Skylab circled the earth. On 15 July 1975, NASA launched the first Apollo-Soyuz mission from Cape Canaveral. Flying for the Americans was Commander Tom Stafford and Command Module Pilot Vance D. Brand. Flying into space had become so safe that despite his irregular heartbeat, NASA launched Deke Slayton as the docking module pilot. The Soviets sent up Commander Alexi Leonov and Flight Engineer Valeri

Kubasov. The Soviet Union and the United States appeared to have made “detente” in space. Cold War masculinity of rugged individualism and control appeared to have lost its purpose in space.

In the fall of 1973, as NASA reports shifted from tales of Apollo to the future of the space shuttle, once again, Americans refashioned the image of the astronaut. The

Second Wave of Feminism helped shape this image. Weitekamp argues in Right Stuff,

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Wrong Sex that not only did prevailing Cold War gender roles for men and women

prevent women from flying, but also, the struggle for a cohesive civil rights movement

during the early stages of the Space Race failed to successfully champion a woman astronaut. Weitekamp’s conclusions are correct. Americans were unsuccessful in convincing the public, politicians, and even NASA of any advantages to flying women into space.10 However, in the 1970s, Americans, including those at NASA, presented an

organized effort to integrate spaceflight.

NASA’s future plans for spaceflight were shared with the public. As early as 21

July 1969, news reports were already circulating about Wernher Von Braun and Maxime

Faget’s future reusable space shuttle. The Washington Post reported that if approved by

Congress, the $6 billion dollar shuttle program would serve as a “taxi service” for the $3

billion dollar proposed orbiting space laboratory. Von Braun and Faget also hoped that

the shuttle would be able to carry passengers to the moon and back. The paper reported,

“Up to now, the stress and expense of space flights have restricted them to astronauts—a carefully selected and highly motivated crew of young physically fit and rigorously trained men.”11 On 16 August 1972, NASA issued a press release entitled “Bathroom

Commode Design for Space Shuttle Passengers” that detailed a system that could be used

“for men and women Shuttle passengers.”12 By 17 September 1973, NASA informed the

public that they were studying women’s physiology for future spaceflight on the shuttle.

Twelve military nurses volunteered for the five-week long experiment that specifically

tested weightlessness and the response of female bodies to G forces.13 On 18 October

1973, NASA completed the tests. They released to the public the names and biographical

information of the female volunteers.14 In March 1975, NASA informed the public that

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the administration was going to “ease” the astronaut requirements for “non-pilot crew members.”15

Much like the effort to create Cold War masculinity in spaceflight, the push to

integrate the astronaut corps also appeared in sources such as print news, public organizations, and politicians’ speeches. In the Real Stuff, Joseph D. Atkinson Jr. and Jay

Shafritz deftly recount the steps to integrate the astronaut corps. The August 1972 edition of Jet magazine quoted Representative Charles B. Rangel (D-NY) after he argued for the

U.S. Civil Rights Commission to conduct an investigation into the employment at NASA.

The congressman proposed that “‘Something is seriously wrong when not a single member of the forty-two manned astronaut corps is female, Black, or Hispanic.’”16 That same summer, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored Peoples

(NAACP) met in Detroit. The Executive Director, who had recently praised a NASA exhibit, conveyed his alarm at the all-white male corps when he said to the crowd,

“‘NASA had not sent a black astronaut into space. Just as shocking, we have no black

astronauts in training; nor women.’”17 The National Urban League expressed its concern

regarding the absence of African-Americans, Chicanos, and women astronauts.18 As a

result of Rangel’s statement, the director of the Office of Federal Civil Rights Evaluation,

Jeffrey M. Miller, sent a letter on 12 August 1972 to NASA stating that the Commission

recently reviewed Rangel’s statements that all of the NASA astronauts were white males.

Miller wrote, “‘In view of the important part that this program plays in our lives and the

great psychological impact that media coverage of our manned space efforts has on

millions of people around the world, this figure if true is most distressing.’”19 Miller

asked NASA’s EEOC director, Ruth Bates Harris, to provide him with details concerning

the past and present astronauts’ sex, race, and ethnicity. He also wanted an explanation of

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the underutilization of minorities in the astronaut corps, as well as what programs NASA

had in place to recruit future minorities within the corps.20

Senator William Proxmire (D-WI), chairman of the Space Science and Veterans

Committee, began investigations on 11 January 1975 into NASA’s equal employment policies. His main concern was that no minorities were currently astronauts. Even

Proxmire knew the cultural importance of the astronaut image. He argued, “‘Nothing has exemplified NASA’s achievement more than our astronaut program, and…the fine character and achievement of the young astronauts. It has been not only the Agency’s showpiece but indeed the country’s showpiece.’”21 NASA’s Associate Deputy

Administrator, Willis Shapley, responded to Proxmire. He admitted that NASA failed to recruit minorities in the past. However, the new Shuttle program would “definitely include the provision for female astronauts.”22 The shuttles were built for passengers, not

rugged individualist astronauts attempting to control the ship. The presence of minorities

as passengers made sense on the shuttle.

The Second Wave of Feminism in the late 1960s reprimanded NASA for the lack

of women in the American space program, specifically, their nonexistence in spaceflight.

Papers carried the headlines “Women Demand Astronaut Roles, Court Posts, Storm

Names Changed.” Speaking as president for the National Organization for Women

(NOW), Betty Friedan reasoned: “‘Equality for women would bring male liberation, too, since men also are victims by laws and practices which limit the roles of individuals in modern society.’”23 In 1969, veteran space journalist, and author of the column, “Men

and Missiles” for the Daytona Beach News-Journal, Sue Butler, joked that if journalists would be sent to the moon, she should be sent first. She reasoned, “I’m 5’1” and weigh

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100 pounds, so I take up less room in a spacecraft and am lighter than any male colleague. Besides, I eat less, so it also would be cheaper to let me go!”24

In 1972, the Miami Herald ran the headline “Lady Astronauts Not Far Off?”

Gerald Carr, the director of Skylab 4, told an audience at a Minnesota space symposium that he believed with the importance of both “advanced degrees” and “physical condition” he foresaw NASA selecting women astronauts.25 Media reports that surrounded women as astronauts in the early 1970s continued to emphasize women in space in traditional roles, as passive actors, helpers, or passengers. For instance, the local newspaper in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, ran a headline claiming, “Women as Space Shuttle

Passengers Under Study.” The report was referring to the twelve Air Force flight nurses that NASA was conducting tests on at the Ames Research Center. The research laboratory tested women’s reactions to gravity free environments, tolerance for g-forces, psychological and other biological changes to the environment of space.26 NASA still received mail from the general public condemning the experiment as a waste of tax dollars even though the administration tested the women as passengers and not pilots.27

American women and minorities had made strong headway since the initial

launching of Sputnik in 1957. Nevertheless, the media attention surrounding the use of

women stayed steadfast to women in traditional Cold War roles. NASA was not

necessarily acquiescing to the public’s cry of equal rights for women in spaceflight. In

1978, NASA chose thirty-five astronauts for Group 8. The group contained six women,

three African American men, and one Asian American man. The United States left the

deadly duty of blasting into space up to men until the United States launched Sally K.

Ride in the space shuttle Challenger on 18 June 1983.

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Overwhelmingly, as women entered the all-male astronaut fraternity, Americans celebrated the achievement. American men and women throughout the country displayed patriotism and pride for the flight by adorning t-shirts that read “Ride, Sally Ride.”28

Ride’s flight was epic and its historical importance two-fold. Publicly, Ride’s flight represented two parallel historical narratives of the image of the space shuttle. STS-7 represented the beginning of the democratization of both spaceflight and space technology. At the same time, this democratization of spaceflight also highlighted what

Americans thought was the end to the dangers of space travel and the continuation of the routinization and domestication of spaceflight.

While Ride, among other female astronauts from Group 8, may have been accepted into the prestigious astronaut fraternity, she and the other women did not stand on equal footing. Ride’s flight represented a long tradition of spaceflight serving to reinforce traditional American domestic roles. What made it possible for Sally to ride was not necessarily the Women’s Movement alone, but also the idea that spaceflight had been routinized. NASA broadened the image of who could fly. Unlike the women who endured the Lovelace program, Ride was not a pilot before she entered NASA. Therefore,

Weitekamp concludes, Ride’s flight “did not excite the women who had participated in

Lovelace’s testing program. They did not identify with scientists who held advanced academic degrees.”29 Ride and the other women were passengers. They were not in control of the craft. They did not pilot the shuttle. They, literally according to news reports and the seating configuration, remained behind the commander and the pilot.

NASA did not acquiesce to the Women’s Movement and its accentuation of equality or pressure from either the government or Americans to create equality in space. The image

285

NASA offered the public stayed steadfast to traditional American domestic roles. The

image of the actual flyer remained male.

In the same month as Ride’s flight, the cover of Space World suggested that the

shuttle was “Designing a Home in Space.”30 Creating a home in space domesticated the

once dangerous feat of spaceflight. Average Americans with no flight or engineering

experience eagerly awaited news of the Citizen Astronaut Program. As early as 1978, articles filled magazines and journals dedicated to spaceflight predicting who the first civilian flyer would be and how much space fare would cost for a ride on the shuttle.

Overall, media reports surrounding Ride and Group 8 fashioned the shuttle image as not only a beacon of American democracy, but also, and unfortunately incorrectly, as a symbol of the routinization of space travel. In 1995, Eileen Collins became the first woman to pilot a space mission. The image of a woman space pilot caught attention within the media. Space journalist depicted her demeanor as “nice” compared to the old

“rowdy” image of the first astronauts.31 Despite her domesticated image, Collins’s flight, according to Weitekamp, meant something to the Lovelace women.32 NASA invited all of the FLATs to watch the feat.33

The discourse of the early American Space Race was not only about rocket

payloads and thrusts. The importance of the crisis of masculinity is also evident within

the early race. The discourse suggested that the United States did not simply follow the

Soviets. The print media, politicians, astronauts, and at times NASA created an image of

masculine control over a space capsule. In creating this image of astronaut-pilot control,

Americans advocated traditional Cold War familial roles of man as the warrior who flew in space while the woman remained on the ground to eagerly await his return.

286

1. The quote is taken from the character Buzz Lightyear in the movie Toy Story, directed by John Lasseter, Pixar/Walt Disney Pictures, 1995.

2. Presidential Recordings Program, “John F. Kennedy, Tape 63A: ‘Fly Me to the Moon,’” Courtesy of the John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, University of Virginia, Miller Center, Whitehousetapes.org, http://whitehousetapes.net/clip/john-kennedy-james- webb-robert-seamans-hugh-dryden-jerome-wiesner-fly-me-moon (accessed December 12, 2011). To note, Seamans became NASA Deputy Administrator in 1965 to 1968. The budget of NASA being discussed in the meeting is 4.6 billion, and the possibility of authorizing as high as 6 billion dollars for the coming fiscal year.

3. Ibid.

4. Joseph Corn, The Winged Gospel: America’s Romance with Aviation, 1900-1950 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983), 30, 8, 30.

5. John W. Ward, “The Meaning of Lindbergh’s Flight,” American Quarterly 10, no. 1 (Spring 1958): 3-16.

6. For information on separate sex spheres in technology see, Shapiro, Gender Circuits: Bodies and Identities in a Technological Age. (New York: Routledge, 2010), 55.

7. McDougall, …The Heavens and The Earth, 288

8. George M. Low, NASA Deputy Administrator, memorandum for the record, on Center Directors’ meeting, Peaks of Otter Lodge, September 11-12, 1972 found in Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 138. James C. Fletcher became NASA administrator on April 27, 1971 and to May 1, 1977.

9. Dale D. Myers, NASA Associate Administrator for Manned Spaceflight, memorandum to Christopher C. Kraft, Director of MSC, September 26, 1972 found in Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 138.

10. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 176-177.

11. “Von Braun and Colleagues Designing Space Shuttle,” Washington Post, July 25, 1969, A13.

12. NASA Press Release 72-163, “Bathroom Commode Design For Space Shuttle Passengers,” August 16, 1972, 1, Impact Series, “Women in Space, 1975-1977 file 008994,” NASA HQ.

13. Ibid.

287

14. NASA Press Release No: 73-218, “Study of Women as Space Flight Candidates Completed,” October 18, 1973, Impact Series, “Women in Space, 1975-1977 file number 008994,” NASA HQ.

15. NASA Press Release No: 75-79, “Requirements May Ease For Shuttle Non-Pilot Crew Members,” Impact Series, “Women in Space, 1975-1977 file 008994,” NASA HQ.

16. “Rangel Charges NASA Bias; Wants Civil Rights Probe,” Jet, August 10, 1972, 30; Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 136.

17. Ruth Bates Harris, Director, NASA Equal Employment Opportunity, letter on minorities and women into space, to the NASA Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight, July 19, 1972, reprinted in Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 134.

18. Harris letter on minorities and women into space, to Distribution (the NASA Administrator’s senior staff), August 8, 1972, reprinted in Atkinson Jr., and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 136.

19. Jeffrey M. Miller, Director, Office of Federal Civil Rights Evaluation, letter to Ruth Bates Harris, Director, NASA Equal Employment Opportunity Office, August 12, 1972. Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 136.

20. Ibid. (both).

21. Quoted in Atkinson Jr. and Shafritz, The Real Stuff, 137.

22. Ibid.

23. “Women Demand Astronaut Roles, Court Posts, Storm Names Changed,” New Haven Register, December 8, 1969, Impact Series, “Women in Space file” NASA HQ. See also, “Moon Trip Demanded for Women,” Portsmouth (New Hampshire) Herald, December 8, 1969, 16; “Send a Woman to the Moon?” Iowa City Press-Citizen, December 8, 1969, 26; “Female Equality Pushed By Now,” Big Spring (Texas) Daily Herald, December 8, 1969, 2; “National Woman’s Group Voices Its Objection,” Sheboygan (Wisconsin) Press, December 8, 1969, 18.

24. “Fly me to the moon, says Sue, pioneer in space reporting,” December 20, 1969, 9- 10, Impact Series, “Women in Space, 1975-1977 file 008998,” NASA HQ. There is no newspaper title given for this article.

25. “Lady Astronauts Not Far Off?” Miami Herald, October 4, 1972, Impact Series, “Women in Space, 1975-1977 file 008998,” NASA HQ. There is no newspaper title given for this article; and Lee Mueller, “Women’s Lib Wants to Go into Orbit,” Coshocton (Ohio) Tribune, July 25, 1971, 3.

288

26. “Women as Space Shuttle Passengers Under Study,” Ephrata (Pennsylvania) Review, September 27, 1973. Found in the Impact Series, “Women in Space,” file number 008998, NASA HQ. See also, Linda Gillan, “No Place Like Space; NASA Testing Women Candidates,” Los Angeles Times, October 27, 1977, 4-6. NASA HQ. Folder “Women in Space, 1975-1977,” 008994.

27. “NASA doctor feels trapped in middle of controversy over women in space,” The Sun, October 8, 1973, Found in the Impact Series, “Women in Space,” file number 008998, NASA History Division.

28. Catherine Gourley, Ms. and the Material Girls: Perceptions of Women in the 1970s through the 1990s; Volume 5 of the Images and Issues of Women in the Twentieth Century (Minneapolis: Twenty First Century Books, 2007), 53.

29. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 177.

30. Space World, June/July 1983, Front Cover.

31. John Schwartz, “The New Astronaut: Plays Well with Robots,” New York Times, August 14, 2005, http://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/14/weekinreview/14schw.html (accessed December 26, 2011).

32. Weitekamp, Right Stuff, Wrong Sex, 177.

33. Ibid., 179. See also Atkinson, Mercury 13, 185-193.

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______. The Fifties. New York: Villard Books, 1993.

Handberg, Roger. Reinventing NASA: Human Space Flight, Bureaucracy, and Politics. Greenwood Publishing Group, 2003.

Hansen, James R. First Man: The Life of Neil A. Armstrong. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005.

Haraway, Donna Jeanne. Primate Visions: Gender, Race, and Nature in the World of Modern Science. New York: Routledge, 1989.

Harding, Sandra, ed. The Feminist Standpoint Theory Reader: Intellectual and Political Controversies. New York: Routledge, 2004.

Haynesworth, Leslie, and David Toomey. Amelia Earhart’s Daughters: The Wild and Glorious Story of American Women Aviators from World War II to the Dawn of the Space Age. New York: Perennial, 1998.

Herring, George. America’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam, 1950-1975, 4th ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2001.

Hersch, Matthew H. “Return of the Lost Spaceman: America’s Astronauts in Popular Culture, 1959-2006.” The Journal of Popular Culture 44, no. 1 (February 2011): 73-92.

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Johnson, David K. The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004.

Johnson, Stephen B. “Samuel Phillips and the Taming of Apollo.” Technology and Culture 42, no. 4 (October 2001): 685-709.

Jordan, John W. “Kennedy’s Romantic Moon and It’s Legacy for Space Exploration.” Rhetoric & Public Affairs 6, no. 2 (Summer 2003): 209-231.

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______. “The Postwar Suburbanization of American Physics.” American Quarterly 56, (2004): 851-888.

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Kerber, Linda. “Separate Sex Spheres, Female Worlds, Woman’s Place: The Rhetoric of Women’s History.” The Journal of American History 75, no. 1 (June 1988): 9-39.

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Kevles, Bettyann H. Almost Heaven: The Story of Women in Space. New York: Basic Books, 2003. Revised and updated edition paperback edition, MIT Press, 2006.

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______. Manhood in America: A Cultural History. New York: The Free Press, 1996.

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Kunda, Gideon. Engineering Culture: Control and Commitment in a High-Tech Corporation. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992.

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Launius, Roger D. “Heroes in a Vacuum: The Apollo Astronaut as Cultural Icon.” The Florida Historical Quarterly: Special Issue Celebrating 50th Anniversary NASA in Florida (1958-2008) 87, no. 2 (Fall 2008): 174-209.

______. NASA: A History of the U.S. Civil Space Program. Malabar, F.L.: Krieger Publishing, 1994.

______. Reconsidering Sputnik: Forty Years Since the Soviet Satellite. New York: Routledge, 2000.

______, and Howard E. McCurdy editors. Spaceflight and the Myth of Presidential Leadership. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1997.

Leavitt, Judith Walzer. Make Room for Daddy: The Journey from Waiting Room to Birthing Room. Chapel Hill, N.C.: The University of North Carolina Press, 2009.

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Makemson, Harlen. Media, NASA, and America’s Quest for the Moon. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2009.

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McCurdy, Howard E. Inside NASA: High Technology and Organizational Change in the U.S. Space Program. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993.

______. Space and the American Imagination. 2nd ed. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1997.

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Merryman, Molly. Clipped Wings: The Rise and Fall of the Woman Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS) of World War II. New York: New York University Press, 2001.

Meyer, Leisa D. Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.

Meyerowitz, Joanne Jay. How Sex Changed: A History of Transexuality in the United States. Boston: Harvard University Press, 2004.

______, ed. Not June Cleaver: Women and Gender in Postwar America, 1945-1960. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994.

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Neufeld, Michael J. Von Braun: Dreamer of Space/Engineer of War. New York: Vintage Books, A Division of Random House, 2007.

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Paul, Doris A. The Navajo Code Talkers. Philadelphia: Dorrance & Company, 1973.

Pisano, David. The Airplane in American Culture. Anne Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2003.

Renda, Mary A. Taking Haiti: Military Occupation and the Culture of U.S. Imperialism, 1915-1940. Chapel Hill, N.C.: The University of North Carolina Press, 2001.

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Rossiter, Margaret W. Women Scientists in America: Before Affirmative Action, 1940- 1972. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998.

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Savran, David. Communists, Cowboys, and Queers: The Politics of Masculinity in the World of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992.

______. Taking It Like a Man: White Masculinity, Masochism, and Contemporary American Culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998.

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Shapiro, Eve. Gender Circuits: Bodies and Identities in a Technological Age. New York: Routledge, 2010.

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______. Sputnik and the Soviet Space Challenge. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2004.

Sidey, Hugh. John F. Kennedy, President. New York: Scribner, 1963.

Strebe, Amy Goodpastre. Flying for Her Country: The American and Soviet Women Military Pilots of World War II. Westport, C.T.: Praeger, 2007.

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Van Riper, A. Bowdoin. Imagining Flight: Aviation and Popular Culture. College Station, T.X.: Texas A&M University, 2004.

Verges, Marianne. On Silver Wings: The Women Airforce Service Pilots of World War II. New York: Ballantine Books, 1991.

Wang, Zuoyue. In Sputnik’s Shadow: The President’s Science Advisory Committee. Piscataway, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2009.

Weist, Andrew, Mary Kathryn Barbier, and Glenn Robins, eds. America and the Vietnam War: Re-Examining the Culture and History of a Generation. New York: Routledge, 2010.

Weitekamp, Margaret A. Right Stuff, Wrong Sex: America’s First Women in Space Program. Baltimore: The John’s Hopkins University Press, 2004.

Wittner, Lawrence S. Cold War America: From Hiroshima to Watergate. New York: Praeger, 1974.

Wolfe, Tom. The Right Stuff. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1979.

Dissertations

Foster, Amy. “Sex in Space: The Politics and Logistics of Sexually Integrating NASA's Astronaut Corps.” PhD diss., Auburn University, 2005.

Hersch, Matthew.” SPACEWORK: Labor and Culture in America’s Astronaut Corps, 1959-1979.” PhD diss., The University of Pennsylvania, 2010.

Landrum-Mangus, Susan. “Conestoga Wagons to the Moon: The Frontier, the American Space Program, and National Identity.” PhD diss., The Ohio State University, 1999.

Meyer, Alan D. “Why Fly?: A Social and Cultural History of Private Aviation in Post- World War II America: 1945-1985.” PhD diss., University of Delaware, 2009.

Starr, Kristen. “NASA’s Hidden Power: NACA/NASA Public Relations and the Cold War, 1945-1967.” PhD diss., Auburn University, 2008.

Walton, Jennifer Lynn. “Moral Masculinity: The Culture of Foreign Relations During the Kennedy Administration.” PhD diss., The Ohio State University, 2004.

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Conferences

Kinney, Jeremy R. and Alan D. Meyer. “‘Beyond Aviation History in the Wider View’— New Approaches to the History of Flight.” Panel Proposal for the 2008 Society of the History of Technology (SHOT) conference, Lisbon, Portugal.

NASA History Program Office. “Key Moments in Human Spaceflight, 1961/1981.” April 26-27 2011. NASA. http://history.nasa.gov/1961-1981conf/index.html (accessed May 5, 2011).

Fiction

Condon, Richard. The Manchurian Candidate. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959.

Heller, Joseph. Catch-22. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1961.

Mailer, Norman. The Naked and the Dead. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1948.

______. Of a Fire on the Moon. Boston: Little, Brown, 1970.

______. The White Negro. San Francisco: City Light Books, 1957.

Rand, Ayn. Atlas Shrugged. New York: Random House, 1957.

______. The Fountainhead. Indianapolis, I.N.: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1943.

Wilson, Sloan. The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1955.

Wolfe, Tom. The Right Stuff. New York: Bantam Books, 1979.

Movies The Fountainhead. Directed by King Vidor. Warner Brothers, 1949.

The Manchurian Candidate. Directed by John Frankenheimer. United Artists, 1962.

Nude on the Moon. Directed by Raymond Phelan and Doris Wishman. J.E.R. Pictures Inc., 1961.

Toy Story. Directed by John Lasseter. Walt Disney Pictures, 1995.

X15. Directed by Richard D. Donner. United Artists/Metro Goldwyn Meyer, 1961.

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Songs

Bowie, David, writer. “Space Oddity,” on album Space Oddity. Producer Gus Dudgeon. released July 11, 1969, Phillips Records (U.K.), Mercury Records (U.S.)

Gibson, Bill, Sean Hopper, and Huey Lewis, writers. “Hip to be Square,” on album Fore! Producer Huey Lewis and the News. Released October 6, 1986, Chrysalis Records

309