Tag Archives: Robert Gilruth

Display the Apollo 1 Spacecraft

The U.S. House of Representative recently approved plans to mint coins commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing approaching in July 2019. This is a worthy gesture.

There is, of course, another waypoint in the history of human spaceflight approaching in a few days: The fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo 1 fire that claimed the lives of Gus Grissom and his crewmates Edward White and Roger Chaffee. Lawmakers have so far failed to act on a proposal for an Apollo 1 memorial at Arlington National Cemetery, where Grissom and Chaffee are interred. (It is hard to believe that after all these years no proper monument has been erected at Arlington.)

An Apollo 1 exhibit is said to be in the works at Cape Canaveral, Florida, but NASA has otherwise been silent about any plans to honor the memory of Grissom and his crew as January 27 approaches. This is unfortunate.

I and others have long advocated the dignified public display of the Apollo 1 command module as a symbol of the crews’ sacrifice and as a reminder that spaceflight is risky, that the United States conducts space exploration in front of the entire world—the triumphs as well as the tragedies. Others have correctly noted that NASA has offered largely empty gestures in honoring the Apollo 1 crew.

The NASA veteran James Oberg argued a decade ago that these “make believe” remembrances represent nothing less than a “cultural failure.” This needed to be said.

The space agency must now do what it should have done long ago: Honor the Apollo 1 crew with an appropriate display of the spacecraft that is accessible to all.

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Following the Apollo 204 (Apollo 1) fire investigation, the command module and heat shield (background) are prepared for shipment from the Kennedy Space Center to the NASA facility at Langley, Va., where it remains to this day. (Source: NASA)

 

The USS Arizona still entombs the remains of its crew, but has been displayed with dignity at Pearl Harbor for decades. It is among the top historical sites in the nation. One can attend a performance at Ford’s Theater in Washington, DC. We need to accord the same honor to the Apollo 1 crew, and remind all who work to send humans into space that they must always be mindful of the what the early NASA pioneer Robert Gilruth called our “precious human cargo.”

Indeed, the display of another Grissom spacecraft—his recovered Liberty Bell 7—is inspiring a new generation of space enthusiasts. I recently viewed Grissom’s Mercury spacecraft at the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, where it is on loan. Salvaged in 1999, Grissom’s Mercury spacecraft was beautifully restored by the Kansas Cosmosphere after thirty-eight years at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

One museum visitor I met marveled how Gus Grissom ever managed to thrust himself out a small hatch opening as his ship filled with water when his hatch blew unexpectedly. Seeing Liberty Bell 7 for them selves made a profound impression on those who likely were just learning the story of Gus Grissom’s historic flight.

A similar display of the Apollo 1 command module would also teach valuable lessons about Grissom’s courage and selflessness—character traits in short supply these days.

Here’s hoping at long last that NASA does right by the memory of Virgil I. “Gus” Grissom and his Apollo crewmates on the fiftieth anniversary of their ultimate sacrifice.

–George Leopold is the author of Calculated Risk: The Supersonic Life and Time of Gus Grissom from Purdue University Press.

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Apollo 1: The Crew of a New Machine

Fifty years ago on this date the crew of the first manned American Apollo mission was announced. Gus Grissom was named commander of the three-man crew that included Ed White, the nation’s first spacewalker, and rookie Roger Chaffee. Grissom and Chaffee were both Purdue University engineering graduates.

For Grissom, the first human to fly twice in space, the prized assignment meant he was on schedule to become the first to fly a third mission. As the Apollo program gained momentum, Grissom also was positioned to be among the first—perhaps the first, some thought—to walk on the moon.

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Robert Gilruth, right, director of NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center, introduces the crew of the first manned Apollo flight on March 21, 1966. From left, Roger Chaffee, Ed White and commander Gus Grissom. (NASA)

Walt Cunningham, a member of the Apollo 1 backup crew, noted in his insider account of Project Apollo, The All-American Boys: “Among the milestones of a test pilot’s career are those rare first flights of a brand-new aircraft design (or spacecraft), and now Gus would be logging two in a little over two years.”[1]

Grissom and his crew soon discovered the heightened risks that accompanied the prestige of making the first flight of a new machine. The early version of the Apollo crew cabin was a mess. From March 1966 to January 1967, Grissom and his crew along with backup commander Wally Schirra struggled mightily to make the ship flightworthy. Schirra told Grissom the day before a fatal test to “get out” of the spacecraft if he sensed any problems. Grissom noted Schirra’s warning but chose to press on.

The crew of Apollo 1 never got off the ground, dying tragically and unnecessarily in a launch pad fire on the evening of January 27. 1967, during what was considered a “routine” test. Design decisions made in the early 1960s such as using a 100-percent cabin atmosphere had doomed the first Apollo crew.

Today it seems counterintuitive, but at the time nearly everyone at NASA realized the United States would never have reached the moon by the end of the 1960s if not for the Apollo 1 disaster. The early American space program was divided between everything that occurred before and after what came to be known simply as “The Fire.” The truth was no one really knew how to reach the moon. The bitter lessons of the fire and the crew’s sacrifice shook the space agency to its core; NASA somehow righted itself, ensuring that Grissom and his crew did not die in vain. Twelve humans walked on the moon between 1969 and 1971.

Gus Grissom’s inestimable role in Apollo, Gemini and Project Mercury is central to understanding the Space Race and the Cold War struggle between the U.S. and the former Soviet Union. Grissom was an astronaut and a Cold Warrior. We tell his story in the forthcoming biography, Calculated Risk: The Supersonic Life and Times of Gus Grissom.

Unlike today’s media creations, Gus Grissom was an authentic hero, a man judged not by his words alone but by his deeds. He shunned the limelight and labored mostly behind the scenes to help America reach another world.

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[1] Walter Cunningham, The All-American Boys, updated iBooks paperback edition, 2004, pp. 64-65.