Fighting for Space

by Amy Shira Teitel

  Janey was nervous. She and Jerrie hadn’t had a chance to compare testimonies, and Janey wondered whether if they overlapped at all in their statements it could hurt their cause. As the two pilots quickly conferred in the hallway, Congressman Victor Anfuso joined them and explained how the hearing would go. Jerrie would testify first, then Janey, then the floor would be open to questions. In a quick, whispered conversation, Jerrie admitted to Victor that she was scared to death. She’d landed an unpowered plane blind, survived internment in Ecuador, endured heartache, and proven her physical and psychological fitness, but part of her was still the tongue-tied little girl who hated public speaking.

  The crowd drifted into the hearing room. Victor showed the other ten subcommittee members to their seats along one wall. All told, nine of the group were men, eight of them war veterans, and the two women were both a generation older than Jerrie and Janey. The press and other observers filed into the benches along the other three walls. Surrounded by spectators, the witness table faced the subcommittee and was the unquestioned center of attention. Looking around as she took her seat at the small table, Jerrie realized there was standing room only. Behind them, John Glenn’s portrait hung on the wall.

  “This meeting will come to order.” Victor spoke loudly enough to quell the chattering crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we meet this morning to consider the very important problem of determining to the satisfaction of this committee what are the basic qualifications required for the selection and training of astronauts.” He continued, “We are particularly concerned that the talents required should not be prejudged or prequalified by the fact that these talents happened to be possessed by men or women. Rather, we are deeply concerned that all human resources be utilized.”

  These opening words quieted some of Janey’s concerns. It sounded to her like Victor might be willing to consider the women as pilots, not female pilots, looking objectively at the merits they could bring to the space program. Victor reminded the subcommittee that NASA had a number of women working behind the scenes, laid out the day’s schedule, and then called on Jerrie.

  Jerrie looked down at the annotated copy of her testimony. Slashes indicated a pause. She’d noted which words to emphasize, where to smile, and worked in material from previous speeches she knew could get a laugh from her audience. She took a steadying breath.

  “Thank you, Mr. Chairman, honorable Members of Congress.” Almost as though she were watching from the outside, Jerrie noticed there was no waver in her voice. She sounded calm, measured, and articulate. “Our purpose in appearing before you is single and simple: We hope that you ladies and gentlemen will, after these hearings and due consideration, help implement the inclusion of qualified women in the US manned space program.” She was the lead witness, she explained, because she had been the first woman Dr. Randy Lovelace had invited to take the astronaut medical tests, and she alone had completed the advanced testing phases. “Early last summer I was sworn in as a NASA consultant,” she added to her list of credentials, unbothered that a curious journalist could make a simple phone call and uncover that her swearing-in ceremony had never happened. “After a group of twelve other women had passed the Mercury astronaut tests, I was sort of drafted to be spokesman for all thirteen of us.” The whole group, she said, couldn’t be in Washington because no funds had been available to cover their travel costs, so she introduced them all, including Jerri Sloan, who’d withdrawn her name from contention, through short biographies. Pens scratched furiously in the viewing gallery. The elusive women the press had obliquely been mentioning for months now had names.

  Jerrie summarized her story for the subcommittee. She emphasized women’s resilience to radiation, their tolerance for monotony, and the overall ease of launching a smaller astronaut into space. Then there was the matter of national pride. “No nation has yet sent a human female into space,” she said. “We offer you thirteen woman pilot volunteers.” With that, Jerrie ended her prepared remarks. She couldn’t fathom what the subcommittee was thinking, whether they were interested or just being courteous.

  “Miss Cobb,” Victor addressed her, “that was an excellent statement. I think that we can safely say at this time that the whole purpose of space exploration is to someday colonize these other planets and I don’t see how we can do that without women.” The room laughed as he turned his focus to Janey. “Mrs. Hart, it is a real pleasure to welcome you here. Besides being the wife of a very distinguished senator, you are also the mother of eight children—four boys and four girls—is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” Janey replied. “I couldn’t help but notice that you call upon me immediately after you referred to colonizing space.”

  “That’s why I did it.” Victor chuckled.

  Unfazed, Janey began her testimony. “The subject at hand is certainly one of my favorite ones.” She left no doubt as to her passion. “I am not arguing that women be admitted to space merely so that they won’t feel discriminated against, I am arguing that they be admitted because they have a very real contribution to make.” Janey knew it was these kinds of statements that earned women condescending smiles and humoring winks, but she also knew that progress only came when women had a chance to prove themselves.

  “A hundred years ago, it was quite inconceivable that women should serve as hospital attendants…it was somehow indecent for a woman to be among all those soldiers, wounded or not. Well, the rest of the story is altogether familiar to you. The women were insistent. There was a shortage of men to do the job. And finally it was agreed to allow some women to try it, provided they were middle-aged and ugly—ugly women presumably having more strength of character.” A woman in space, Janey said, was no more preposterous than a woman in a field hospital during the Civil War. Waiting for a manpower shortage before tapping into the contribution women had to offer was ridiculous, and it dissuaded young women from pursuing an education. “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?” But at the same time, as a mother of eight, Janey certainly understood the importance of raising children. If a woman wanted to marry and become a homemaker, that was her choice, but to force women into marriage as a career when their aptitudes might lie elsewhere was simply wrong. “Our affluent society has provided so many household aids that the intelligent, energetic housewife can find many hours to devote to other useful purposes. Let’s face it: for many women the PTA just is not enough.” She went on to recount the same story Jerrie had told about their testing, urging the subcommittee to consider reinstating their research program.

  “I don’t want to be the Susan B. Anthony of the space age,” Janey said as she finished her statement. “I just think we would be making a serious mistake if we assumed that women just have no contribution to make to space exploration.”

  The floor now open to questions, Victor asked Janey whether she felt flying in space would inspire other women to follow in her footsteps. She replied that it would. “Would you go so far, Mrs. Hart, to say that anything man can do, woman can do better?”

  “No, sir, I would not,” Janey replied, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone.

  Jerrie stepped in to walk the subcommittee through the tests the women had passed, using pictures to illustrate exactly what they’d done. But Victor had done his homework on NASA’s astronaut requirements and knew the agency demanded more qualifications than just passing a series of medical checks. He knew there was a reason they were grounded, but he wanted to see what Jerrie had to say.

  “Miss Cobb, what do you think are the minimum qualifications for an astronaut?”

  “I could not answer the minimum qualifications for an astronaut because I am not qualified,” she answered.

  “Is it because one of the requirements is that the astronauts be also engineers?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t think that is it at all. There are many women engineers. It is the jet test pilot experience that makes it imp
ossible for a woman to meet the qualifications,” Jerrie answered, pleased to have reached the heart of the issue.

  “Are any of your women test pilots?” Victor pressed.

  “Some of us have worked as test pilots but it is impossible for a woman in this country to be a jet test pilot.”

  “Do you feel it is essential to have been a test pilot before you could qualify as an astronaut?” Congressman Joseph Karth from Minnesota asked.

  “I personally do not feel it is essential at all,” Jerrie said. “An astronaut must pilot a spacecraft—not test jet fighters. If you total the flying hours of this group of women pilots you will find the women averaged four thousand five hundred hours each, which is more than the men astronauts have.”

  “There is a considerable difference between straight flying—commercial or private—and test piloting, isn’t there?” Joseph continued his line of questioning.

  “I suggest there is an ‘equivalent experience’ in flying that may be even more important in piloting spacecraft,” Jerrie replied. “What counts is flawless judgment, fast reaction, and the ability to transmit that to the proper control of the craft.” She went on to explain how, though the Mercury astronauts had 1,500 hours apiece in jets, the women had upward of 10,000 hours in propeller planes. “Pilots with thousands of hours of flying time would not have lived so long without coping with emergencies calling for microsecond reaction—” Jerrie hadn’t finished making her point when the door opened.

  “May I interrupt to welcome Miss Jacqueline Cochran who has just arrived?” Victor cut across her. “We will proceed with her testimony after Miss Cobb and Mrs. Hart.”

  Jackie wasn’t the least bit sorry about her late arrival. It was the same as making a judge wait after a race while she touched up her lipstick—a quiet way to make an impact. As she moved to take her seat, she took in the scene: the subcommittee in one long row facing the witness table where Jerrie, in her seat next to Janey, had kicked off her shoes and now sat with her stockinged feet on the floor crossed at the ankles.

  The questions resumed. It was stated for the record that Jerrie was neither an engineer nor a jet test pilot, but she implored the subcommittee to see that she had a lot to offer the space program regardless. She told the subcommittee that while women were barred from astronaut testing and training, there was a clinic called “Chimp College” in New Mexico where doctors were training chimpanzees for space missions, one of which was a female named Glenda. If a female chimp could train alongside males, why couldn’t female humans train with men? This led the conversation to the issue of the cancelled Pensacola testing.

  “I notice, Mrs. Hart,” Congressman Ken Hechler addressed himself to Janey, “you used the phrase ‘somehow the program was cancelled.’ Could you explain this a little bit? What were you informed about the program?”

  “As to why it was cancelled?” she began. “I have no idea, sir. That is one of the mysteries of the past year.” It was the only way she could express it.

  “We will get the answer to that question tomorrow from NASA,” Victor said. “This committee has the assurances that NASA wished to cooperate and is cooperating. I indicated in my earlier statement that these hearings are helpful. And I know that you don’t want to criticize any branch of the government. You just want answers.”

  “I would like very much to work with NASA,” Jerrie confirmed.

  It was then that Congressman James Corman from California asked Jerrie if she knew where Irene Leverton was. “I have an address in Los Angeles. I believe it is Santa Monica.”

  “Is she one of your constituents?” Victor turned to ask his colleague.

  “Yes,” Congressman Corman answered. “I thought she might be back here for these hearings and I wanted to meet her.”

  “I wish she could have been,” Jerrie answered, without offering any explanation as to why neither Irene nor any of the other pilots was present.

  Congressman James G. Fulton of Pennsylvania, a Republican and longtime friend of Lyndon Johnson’s who shared in the vice president’s love of space, spoke next.

  “Did it strike the women that the reason the tests were cancelled was because the men thought the women were too successful?” James’s congressional counterparts didn’t try to hide their disdain. He wasn’t highly respected among his colleagues, so much so that it wasn’t uncommon for his peers to vote against an issue because James spoke out in favor of it. Now, his question asked in favor of the Lovelace women was answered only with laughter.

  “Miss Cobb, you showed a little bit of resentment toward Glenda out in this test center,” Congressman Joe Waggoner asked. “You do not feel any resentment about the female monkeys in the cancer clinic, do you?”

  Again, the room laughed at the comparison, but Jerrie didn’t give them the satisfaction of showing her anger. “I think there is place for both,” she said.

  The questions went on, and Congressman Joe Waggoner put the key question to Jerrie. “Do you think that we ought to sacrifice anything in the way of accomplishment in time with regard to our lunar landings and other space activities, or to go into this program to the extent that we would put a woman in space at the expense of slowing down another program?” Operating under the assumption that a women’s program would have to be distinct from the regular astronauts’ training, the congressman was putting Jerrie in the very position she didn’t want to be. He was forcing her to answer which she valued more: her desire to be the first woman in space or her desire to see the United States reach the Moon before the Soviets.

  “No, sir,” she replied. “I don’t think you have to start a whole new program for women,” she said. She just wanted the women to have what she viewed as a fair chance at proving themselves with the opportunity of training for a real mission if they were deemed ready.

  There was no resolution when the hearing took a brief recess.

  * * *

  “The committee will come to order,” Victor reconvened the hearing. “I have the honor and privilege of welcoming Miss Jacqueline Cochran who, without a question, is the foremost woman pilot in the world, and who holds more national and international speed, distance, and altitude records than any other living person.” He turned to Jackie. “Do you have a prepared statement?”

  “I do, Mr. Chairman,” Jackie replied. She held a copy of her statement in a large, double-spaced font, just as she had done during her congressional campaign. “I only heard, Mr. Chairman, on Thursday, when I was out west, that I was going to be requested to come before your committee, and I had no opportunity to prepare very much of anything.” Victor didn’t mention he’d already read her statement, nor did she say she’d sent it to NASA, Randy Lovelace, and a handful of other key decision-makers.

  “I do not believe that there has been any intentional or actual discrimination against women in the astronaut program to date,” she began, adding that she, an accomplished test pilot with ample jet flight experience and a strong desire to fly in space, had never once felt discriminated against. She stated her long-held belief that manned spaceflight was of such national urgency that it was natural that men should fly first; they were the ones in the country who were “experienced, competent and qualified to meet possible emergencies in a new environment.” To that end, the decision on whether women should fly came down to the question of whether they would hamper NASA’s ongoing programs. But either way, the existing pool of women was too small. A proper testing program should be large enough to establish norms for future generations.

  When Jackie finished, Victor opened the questions. “Does any woman to your knowledge meet those specifications that you, yourself, have laid out?”

  “I don’t think anyone could make such a statement,” Jackie answered before drawing a comparison with the WASPs as the only benchmark she had. “The sad part of the program was, our attrition rate was very high due to marriage. I don’t know the exact figure. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 percent. They flew every type of aircraft the nation
had, just as successfully. In fact, their fatality rate was only slightly under that for cadets.” The WASPs were great pilots, but they didn’t necessarily stay devoted to their careers. It was the same with commercial aviation, she explained. “Airlines spend $50,00027 average to check a pilot out on a 707 or Convair 880,” she offered as an example. “That is expensive if you lose them through marriage.” No one interjected to point out that many of the Lovelace women were married, nor that Jackie had learned to fly at Floyd’s suggestion. The subcommittee instead remained focused on NASA’s astronaut criteria.

  “I would like to ascertain whether you, in your opinion, feel it is a reasonable requirement that NASA has laid down that you be a test pilot before you be considered as one of the astronauts in the space program?” Congressman Karth asked.

  “If you want my own honest personal opinion—”

  “Your personal opinion.”

  “I don’t think so, no,” Jackie said. “Apart from technical training, you learn as you go along. I have learned a great deal. I know about the practical side of flying, shall we say, and the way planes are rigged.”

  “Would you say that a program to train selected American women as astronauts, apart from our present astronaut program activities, in order to launch a woman pilot into space before the Soviet Union, is a worthwhile national objective?” Victor inquired next.