The countdown resumed, and at 9:47 in the morning local time, the clock reached zero. The Atlas’s engine roared to life, thrust built up, and the rocket lifted off the launch pad. “The clock is operating. We’re under way,” John called from the cockpit. From their separate vantage points, Jerrie and Jackie cheered along with the gathered crowd as the Atlas and John disappeared into the sky, each wishing it were her inside that cramped spacecraft.
John’s flight lasted three orbits. An erroneous light indicating that his landing bag was deployed forced mission controllers to bring him home four orbits earlier than planned. Nevertheless, when John splashed down not far from the Dominican Republic after four hours, fifty-five minutes, and twenty-three seconds in space, he was a hero. The mission was lauded as a stunning success. Celebratory letters poured into both NASA and the White House, including a note from Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev. “If our countries pool their efforts—scientific, technical and material—to explore outer space,” the Soviet premier wrote, “this could be very beneficial to the advance of science and would be acclaimed by all people who would like to see scientific achievements benefit man and not be used for ‘cold war’ purpose and the arms race.”
Lyndon had long been a proponent for space being a common goal for all mankind. Jack, too, fostered the goal of having space be something peaceful rather than an element of competition. Now, in light of Khrushchev’s call for a cooperative program, there was some question about sending the vice president to Moscow for a meeting to see how true that sentiment really was.
* * *
Two days after John became the first American in orbit, Jerrie was in Los Angeles giving a keynote speech at the First Women’s Space Symposium conference. The organizers were thrilled to have a purported NASA consultant as their featured speaker, especially since Jackie couldn’t make it owing to a scheduling conflict. NASA was less pleased. The space agency had warned the conference organizers that speaking in a commercial venue could jeopardize Jerrie’s role with NASA, but neither the organizers nor Jerrie seemed to care. She stood proudly on stage, assuming as she spoke that she was the voice of all the Lovelace women.
“In this new and exciting space age in which we are now living, there is space for women,” she began. “During the past eighteen months, twenty-five highly experienced women pilots have taken the astronaut physical examinations at the Lovelace Foundation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The results have proven the fact—women are physically and emotionally capable of withstanding the stresses of spaceflight.” She went on to say that both sexes have much to offer as humanity explores space, and that there should be no competition as the two work together hand in hand. The competition, she said, was with the Soviet Union.
“Just a couple of months ago I spoke with Russia’s leading space medicine expert, Professor Yzadosky, who told me quite frankly that his country was training female cosmonauts. For several years Russian scientists have stated that they would use Mongolian women in space—these are a small, hardy race used to living at high altitudes in the Mongolian mountains with less oxygen.” She used this as a rallying cry to try to drum up public support: America could score a propaganda victory in space by launching the first woman. “Let us go forward, then—there is space for women!”
Jerrie’s speech had the crowd fired up and excited, but her words were at odds with the speaker who spoke immediately after her. Dr. Edward C. Welsh, NASA’s executive secretary, painted a very different picture in his talk titled “Space: The Essential Business.”
“For decades to come, none but a small percentage of the people of the Earth will become travelers in space,” Edward began, qualifying this statement by saying that in fact only a fraction of the population had even flown in an airplane. “But, hundreds of millions of individuals have helped, directly or indirectly, to build the aircraft and airports and all the other essentials to air travel.” It was the same with spaceflight. Though the astronauts were the most visible part of the space program, it took thousands of men and women working behind the scenes to put one astronaut into orbit. “It is disturbing to some that we do not have Astro-Eves as well as Astro-nauts,” he said. “Be assured that we will have both in the near future. However, that is not the area in which we have a shortage—and thus it does not make much difference to our space leadership efforts whether a large number or only a small number of women go into training to become Astro-Eves, just so long as they are not drawn away from the educational, research, and other technical work where we need more competence, not less.”
Edward’s remarks echoed NASA’s stance that women had an important role to play in space, just not the role in the cockpit. At least, not yet. But the media remained focused on Jerrie and the astronaut tests she said she’d passed. Journalists described her as “the attractive 31-year-old astronaut aspirant,” and “America’s first woman astronaut trainee.” Articles erroneously placed her in the control tower when John Glenn was launched and quoted her as affirming that the United States “has the capability and the women to accomplish the first scientific feat of putting a woman in space—now.” Reports failed to mention that the medical testing was an experimental and private program, and Jerrie did nothing to correct the stories that reached the American public.
* * *
Two weeks later, Jim Webb sat under bright studio lights with Senator Kenneth Keating. The nation’s interest in space remained strong, and the senator wanted to bring Jim’s own words to television and radio viewers throughout the country.
“We are going to have to institute training programs for others,” Jim said of the need for more astronauts in advance of any Apollo missions. “You know we have a very active flight program. We’ll be flying every sixty or ninety days now for some time. We have a two-man spaceship that we’ll be flying in a year or so. Then we have the three-man Apollo which will come after that. So we will be training more astronauts. But these seven that we have already trained are going to make the flights right ahead of us.”
“When will these other astronauts be called in for training?” Senator Keating wanted to know.
“It’s a little too early for me to say. In about three weeks, we’ll make some announcements as to the program.”
Then Kenneth brought up what had crossed just about every American’s mind at least once in the last month. “You know, I want to go up into space. Are the physical requirements for space flight going to be reduced so that a fellow like you and me can go up?”
“I think the best way I could answer that is that no man ought to go in space before he is well trained for it,” Jim began. “You see, you’ve got to subject yourself to large g’s and centrifuge operations, and you have to go through an extensive program. So I say there’s no actual physical limitation that training can’t overcome, but you wouldn’t go through this expensive training unless you had a real reason to go there.” For Jim, the reason to train anyone for the g-loads and stresses of space was Apollo, and the official call for more astronauts went out in a press release a week later on March 11, 1962.
For its second group, NASA wanted approximately ten additional men with the same background and qualifications, augmenting rather than diversifying its astronaut corps. The call that went out was for experienced American jet test pilots with engineering training who were younger than thirty-five and stood shorter than six feet, owing to the dimension of the Apollo spacecraft. The only change was that applicants didn’t have to be actively flying with the military. NASA would now accept civilians, though the requirement of jet flight experience meant even civilian applicants would have to have military flying experience. NASA also relaxed its medical requirements. Having successfully launched four missions without any astronauts suffering ill effects, the agency was now looking for outstanding piloting skill more than physical fitness.
Adding to its astronaut corps was just the most visible element of NASA’s growth, but the agency, on the whole, was growing. To keep Apollo on track, Jim asked
the Space Council to grant it priority as soon as the Mercury program ended. It did, then passed the recommendation on to President Jack Kennedy.
Apollo’s priority was just one of the space issues LBJ was juggling. He was still investigating the idea of a joint mission with the Soviet Union on behalf of the president; Jack had pushed his Soviet counterpart to discuss their countries working together in space, saying that “the asks are so challenging, the costs so great, and the risks to the brave men who engage in space exploration so grave, that we must in all good conscience try even the possibility of sharing these tasks and costs and of minimizing these risks.” A less exciting but no less important goal, Lyndon was helping plan America’s satellite programs. He was also dealing with letters and memos about Mercury astronaut Deke Slayton’s flight status in light of a recently uncovered atrial fibrillation. For the man who had earmarked space as the way to boost his career, it was becoming little more than a headache. Through his lingering foul mood, Lyndon increasingly caught up on issues through brief memos from George Reedy and often signed letters without reading them in full.
* * *
Back in Oklahoma City with Aero Design in the spring, Jerrie redoubled her efforts on her Washington campaign as best she could from a distance. Unable to duplicate herself, she did the next best thing: she recruited Janey Hart.
Janey had been outraged when she learned of the Pensacola tests’ cancellation. She saw it as discrimination on the basis of sex, plain and simple, part of a larger systemic bias that was keeping women out of so many aspects of American life. Janey saw no reason why the navy or NASA or whoever was behind this cancellation should want to deny them the jet time and simulator training they wanted. And the enemy, as far as Janey could tell, was Jim Webb. Jim held the whole of NASA in his hands. She knew that if they could get him to say yes, women would join the astronaut corps straight away. But as it was, he seemed unwilling to change his stance on women, preferring to pat them on the head in a patronizing “we’ll take care of you little ladies later” sort of way to just get rid of them. In light of such gender bias, Janey relished the chance to take on Washington.
Together, Jerrie and Janey developed a strategy. Through a two-pronged attack, they would surround Jim and force him to give a definitive answer: would NASA fast-track a female astronaut program, yes or no? Jerrie would continue working the public angle, keeping their story in the press in the hope that taxpayers would put pressure on NASA and the Space Council to fly a woman. Janey would work from the inside, soliciting support from congressmen and senators by leveraging her secret weapon: her husband. Senator Philip Hart from Michigan was a liberal democrat, a longtime friend and supporter of Lyndon’s, and an early recruit to Jack Kennedy’s inner circle after he’d begun his presidential campaign. Being a senator’s wife, Janey also knew how Washington worked and who really got things done. Instead of reaching out to the vice president directly for a meeting, she got in touch with Elizabeth Carpenter.
Liz was a former newswoman whom Lady Bird had hired as her assistant back when Lyndon was a senator. She had taken on increasingly important roles in the Johnson camp over the years and was now one of the few women working in the vice president’s inner circle. Lyndon felt women were inherently trustworthy, but at the same time believed the highest office a woman could hold was that of a secretary, making Liz one of the highest-ranking women close to the vice president. Though Janey had never met Liz, they’d operated in the same Washington circles for years, and the senator’s wife had an innate sense she could trust the vice president’s employee. She’d heard Liz speak a number of times at meetings and on the radio as the press secretary for Lady Bird and Lyndon Johnson, and she knew they shared a similar political agenda. Most importantly, Janey knew Liz was passionate about extending opportunities for women.
Janey told Liz Jerrie’s story. She told her how Jerrie had gone through three phases of testing—medical, psychological, and simulations at Pensacola. She told her how Jerrie had then helped more women take the same medical tests, how the successful dozen had been scheduled to go to Pensacola, but the rug had been whipped out from under them. Liz was sympathetic. The two women discussed how chimps were flying in space without engineering backgrounds or jet experience, and that surely the space agency could therefore see fit to send a woman to score a first over the Soviet Union. Liz couldn’t promise Janey that LBJ would consent to meet with her and Jerrie, but she agreed to speak with him about them.
* * *
“Mr. Vice President: Bill Welsh, Senator Hart’s Administrative Assistant, called me and asked whether it would be possible for you to see Mrs. Hart and Miss Cobb on March 15th or 16th. Bill sent me a memorandum which is attached and self-explanatory.” The request, another of George Reedy’s summary notes, landed on the vice president’s desk on March 8.
Leafing through the attached memorandum, Lyndon familiarized himself with the issue. “Background: Twenty-Five carefully screened women pilots tested at Lovelace Clinic…twelve passed the same tests as the astronaut of the Mercury Project…Lovelace Foundation bears the expense and is willing to finance per diem and transportation for the twelve on further research…” It went on to explain that the “further research” needed to happen at Pensacola under the Navy or at Wright-Patterson under the US Air Force, in either case with NASA approval. “At this time,” Lyndon went on reading, “Mr. Webb’s attitude is negative. We urge that the program be moved forward. It has merit from scientific and research points of view and would be of propaganda value at home and abroad. Last week the President said: ‘The only area in which Russia excels is in the use of women.’”
Lyndon figured he ought to at least hear the women out. He consented to meet them.
The same day Lyndon got up to speed on Jerrie’s campaign to go to space, Jerrie wrote Jackie another letter. She was still bothered by how they’d left things in Florida and couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t made her intentions on the matter of women in space clear, so she reiterated her standpoint. “I still feel that it is important for the United States to continue the research testing on women’s reactions to various stresses,” she wrote, “and to put the first woman in space.” For good measure, she sent a copy to Floyd.
Meanwhile, in Washington, the press had got wind that Janey was seeking an audience with the vice president in an attempt to fly in space, and she quickly made headlines. “Senate Wife Could Be First Woman in Space” proclaimed Washington’s Sunday Star just days later. The article described Janey as one of twelve still-unnamed women who had “passed all the grueling physical tests which Col. John Glenn and the other six Mercury Astronauts completed as a first step toward their historic missions.” She was labeled “dynamic” by the press and her campaign “aggressive” as reports said she was seeking a congressional hearing wherein she and Jerrie could present a scientific breakdown of their case. Adding to the furor herself, Janey wrote letters to several members of the US House and Senate space committees, inclosing a copy of Jerrie’s “Space for Women” speech, and wrote a letter to Congress that she released to the press.
The renewed media attention inspired a slew of women to write to the vice president in defense of the female astronaut hopefuls. Mrs. Catherine Smith urged Lyndon to “let the women, who are willing, have a chance to help in the Progress of our Country.” After hearing Janey speak at the New Century Club, Mrs. George B. Ward told the vice president that “the intelligence, patriotism, initiative and creative ability of women is our most wasted resource in this country.” Miss Sue Ann Winkelman was very shocked to learn that “future space flights were planned but none concerning female astronauts. I disapprove of this plan very whole-heartedly; and I agree one-hundred percent with Jerrie Cobb and Jane Hart when they say that unless we do something very soon, Russia will be the one to put the first woman in space.” Rachel D. Jones asked, “Why not a Spacewoman?” Mrs. Howard F. White urged Lyndon to “give serious consideration to Mrs. P. A. Hart’s proposal
to incorporate women into the Space Program.” Thirteen-year-old Fritzi Mann asked what she should study to become an astronaut. Fourteen-year-old Carole Glad asked the vice president, simply, if there was “a future for women in space and when?”
LBJ—or at least his office—sent replies to every letter. The girls were encouraged to study math and science and to speak with their counselors about college classes, provided they understood that no one could predict when women would be chosen as astronauts. The replies maintained that astronaut selection was not based on “sex, color, creed or other extraneous factors” but rather on the special requirements of the job, the principal factor being technical training—high-performance jet and experimental aircraft experience—in addition to the physical, emotional, and mental standards. “When women who meet all the requirements apply,” the form letter from LBJ’s office told the women, “then they will get equal opportunities with men for these important jobs in the future.”
For every woman imploring Lyndon to open space to women, there was a man unwilling to see this change. An anonymous “A. Bachelor” scrawled a quick note on hotel stationery that made its way to the vice president. “I have just seen in the newspaper that a sen. is going to blast his wife into outer space. This is a hell of a way to get rid of one’s wife. It’s getting bad enough with women being the way they are, it’s getting so a man can’t go anywhere without having a woman hanging around. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them I just want to put them back in their place in the home where she belongs. I know that your judgement on this will be sound. I had this feeling when I voted for you. I will be looking for your answer in the newspaper.”
The Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library
Fighting for Space Page 29