I was a teenage spaceman
April 15 arrived this year, as always, as Income Tax Day. But an Associated Press “Today in History” list reminded me that on April 15, 1961, Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space. It was a big deal. And it remains a big deal – much bigger than Jeff Bezos’ publicity stunt of launching a crew of six semi-famous women (including his fiancée) into space last week, one day before the Gagarin anniversary. Clad in form-fitting blue designer catsuits, the ladies spent 11 minutes on the edge of space. Then the “catronauts” plummeted back to Earth, where they loudly proclaimed that they had served as empowering role models for young women. Maybe so. But I wonder how many college scholarships could be awarded to those same young women using the estimated $70 million spent on the flight?
I leave you to gaze at the sky tonight and ponder that with me. Meanwhile, return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear. To Oct. 4, 1957, to be exact.
On that day Earthlings watched the skies with a mixture of wonder and trepidation after the Soviet Union launched the first artificial satellite, Sputnik. Americans were terrified by it. Could it be a bomb? A spy satellite? Would it lead to World War III? In a nation fighting the Cold War, these were valid, unsettling questions. I was only 8 in 1957, so I didn’t share those fears. But I was already fascinated with space flight.
It started with the “Captain Video” sci-fi episodes that ran from 1949 to 1955 on the Dumont TV network. Despite its production values being so cheesy that the cardboard walls of the sets sometimes collapsed on actors, the captain and his crew made me an aspiring space ranger. The “Space Race” between the Soviet Union and the U.S. kicked into high gear in 1959, when NASA introduced its “Mercury 7” astronauts. The multitrillion-dollar question: Which nation would be the first to launch a man into space? That question became moot with Gagarin’s voyage.
But when Alan B. Shepard (Bezos named his “New Shepard” booster and capsule combo after him) became the first American in space – on a 15-minute suborbital flight – I became a space geek. Indeed, I set up in my basement a mock interior of Shepard’s “Freedom 7” capsule: a cardboard box perforated to hold a few flip switches purchased at Radio Shack to simulate an instrument panel. Then, wearing my official NFL Bobby Lane football helmet and resting the box on my lap, I lay back on our webbed outdoor reclining lounge chair, my head about 6 inches from the floor, and reached for the stars. And why not?
The decade of the Sixties was a grand time to be American. With JFK, all things were possible. When John Glenn made the first American orbital flight on Feb. 20, 1962, I had just turned 13. Every student in our junior high school was required to watch the launch at an assembly in our gymnasium. We collectively squinted at a state-of-the-art, 21-inch black-and-white Philco TV set up on a media cart on the stage, 50 feet from the bleachers. At that distance, Glenn’s Mercury-Atlas booster and Friendship 7 capsule appeared to be just about the size of my own model rocket. Glenn – who was not wearing a blue catsuit – became a role model for aspiring young boys, including me.
But all that changed when the Beatles appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” on Feb. 9, 1964. I shifted my eyes to different stars.
John, Paul, George and Ringo.