Writing a book is simultaneously hard work and a labor of love. Among the pleasures are the folks encountered along the way. There were many such instances during the seven or so years it took me to write a biography of the astronaut Virgil I. “Gus” Grissom.
I received a call the other day from Joe Dreyer, a buddy of Gus’s during their Air Force flight training in the early 1950s. Several of Joe’s photos of Grissom are published—I believe for the first time—in Calculated Risk: The Supersonic Life and Times of Gus Grissom.
Joe informed me he had seen the book listed on Amazon, and was curious to know whether I had used his photos, which he had mailed to me last winter.
Indeed, we did, I informed Joe. He seemed very pleased.
Joe’s kindness in entrusting his precious photos of Gus Grissom to a complete stranger illustrates the high regard for my subject held among his peers and colleagues. There in a photo album in Connecticut was a small part of Gus Grissom’s story, and Joe Dreyer wanted to be sure that anyone interested in the early days of spaceflight saw these images of two young men in their flight suits learning to control a flying machine.
Some of Joe’s photos are posted below.
A few weeks back, I was invited to participate in the Gus Grissom Classic, an annual golf tournament sponsored by a Purdue University alumni group in Jasper, Indiana. (Purdue University Press published my biography of Grissom, who graduated from Purdue with an engineering degree in 1950.) There, I met four McDonnell Douglas engineers who worked closely with Grissom and the other Mercury and Gemini astronauts during the heyday of the Space Race in the early 1960s.
The foursome—Dean Purdy, Earl Robb, Jerry Roberts and Bob Schepp—represent much of the institutional memory of the early days of manned spaceflight. They figured out ways to make those magnificent early machines fly in space and bring back their precious human cargoes in one piece. These engineers did things that had never been done before, like sending the original space computer into orbit on Gus Grissom’s Gemini 3 flight, the first space voyage in which astronauts actually steered their spacecraft.
At some point, perhaps in an expanded edition of Calculated Risk, I will include some of the amazing, funny, harrowing stories these four men were kind enough to share. Several of the McDonnell engineers’ wives also attended the event in Indiana. They too had stories to tell about frenzied lives at Cape Canaveral and St. Louis in the 1960s when husbands did not come home until a test was completed. Twenty-four hour shifts were common in those days, and the wives assumed nearly all the parental duties.
Still, they understood the magnitude of what their engineer husbands were attempting. Unlike many of the astronauts, the McDonnell engineers remain married to the same woman.
Theirs is a great generation, and I am indebted to them for sharing their stories about Gus Grissom and the dawn of human space exploration.
Click here for more on the careers of Purdy, Robb, Roberts, Schepp and the rest of “The Mercury 6.”