The diminishing Raisin Brans kept him company until there was no bran, no raisins, no milk, no company left. But not for long because the waiter returned and this time he pulled back the chair next to Christopher at his table.
As Christopher realized that waiters pull out chairs only for guests joining guests, everything turned gleeful. Everything. The waiter pulled back the chair so that Anna would be sitting where she requested after she had come to the entrance to the Castle Harbour Hotel’s dining room and pointed to the table of the man sitting alone and playing with a spoon. “I’m a surprise,” she had then said to the Maitre-d’. She held a purse and some brown file-sized envelopes. “I don’t want to be announced.”
The waiter accommodated all her requests.
First there was a kissing session between Chris and Anna. No words. Then Savannah stared into his eyes. “I had to see you. I was worried about you. You didn’t seem interested in me anymore. I don’t want to lose you, Chris. Please.”
Was that meant as an apology of some sort? ‘Leave it be,’ he told himself. ‘Why put her on the defensive? What would be gained? An argument?’
She gave a quick smile almost as though she heard what he was thinking. “I’m just a messen-juh.” Her southern accent was back in full for this part of the occasion. “I have come to delivah a few pic-juhs of some of my friends that they wanted you to have.” She opened one of the brown envelopes she brought with her, and took out the enclosures which were four 8” X 10” glossy photographs.
“I told them all about you,” she said. The photos were all portraits of instantly recognizable motion picture celebrities and signed with only their first names below their inscriptions wishing him good luck on the moon.
Chris shook his head and asked her, “And just how did they know that—who told them about my obsessional ambition?”
“A little girl told them.”
“You know them?”
“Since I was a very little girl.”
“You were an actress even as a little girl?”
“In a way. I had to get a Screen Actors Guild card to work—so I did, but I didn’t get any real parts.”
“If you didn’t get any parts, what were you doing?”
“I was just an extra in crowd scenes and a couple times I had a line so I was promoted to be a bit player but they ended up cutting out my lines fairly often. That was a while back. I won’t tell you how long, long ago. Marvelous studio. RKO Studios. If you worked there you soon knew everyone on the lot. It became like a home to me. I sure met some good people and I still know them even though we don’t work together now. They’ve stuck to movies and my real break came from television: ‘Gemstone.’”
“So how did you”—and he lifted the photos from the table. “How did you get them to do this now—at this date and to write what they did on these pictures?”
“I asked them.”
“You do know how to keep old friends, don’t you?”
That could have been a dangerous question depending on her answer. “It was good of them; not me. They’re the celebrities.” Good twist for the questioner’s answer.
Then he found himself doing what he didn’t want to have done but he did it. He asked, “You ever hear from Raj Bhavnani?”
She was unbelievable. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders with incredible calm as though it was a question for which she had memorized gestures and words in proof of extreme innocence. “No! Thankfully he disappeared! Poof! Gone! Thankfully!”
Christopher, with renewed self-discipline, changed the subject himself. “And Carl Sanford at NASA! You have a way to the—to the famous and the—relevant. He told me you phoned him! That was very good of you and somehow—just minutes ago I was told that NASA wants me to work on overseeing tracking sites for Project Mercury with General Dynamics Astronautics in San Diego—that’s where they make the booster—the Atlas—and if things go well—maybe I’ll get to work on President Kennedy’s project—the voyage to the moon. Pre-flight work. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes, I do. You see? Of course I know. You can’t get away from me!”
He couldn’t. “I’m a Hollywoodian, you know. I hope you know that San Diego is just 130 miles from Hollywood. See? I had it all figured out. You can drive it in three or so hours.” As for now she would stay in Bermuda as long as his trip there could last even though she didn’t take into consideration that she was risking being AWOL from ‘Gemstone’ if she didn’t check with the Assistant Director. “I have one more thing for you,” she said as she handed him another envelope, this one appearing to have something thick inside.
As he opened it she quickly added, “Don’t get excited. It’s a book, but the author personally inscribed it for you.”
It was “Profiles in Courage” by John F. Kennedy. The inscription read, “To Christopher Straw whose contributions to the New Frontier will some day be material for a new chapter in a similarly titled book.”
“This is incredible! Incredible! Where did you get this?”
“From a President of the United States of America.”
“Anna!”
“No I didn’t! I’m kidding you! He probably wrote the inscription for you when he was at his desk. I got it from Pierre Salinger.”
“President Kennedy’s Press Secretary?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Sans Souci Restaurant in D.C. Lunch. Just up the block from the White House. 17th Street. Does that make some difference?”
“How on earth did you ever work that one out? You had lunch with the President’s Press Secretary? And he gave you this to give to me?”
“It’s amazing that a shy girl who was bawn in Chahlston and who now appears occasionally on television, can get to meet Pierre Salinger. He said to give these to your friend who’s working on space exploration. Now you can put this book next to all your other memory books.”
“I don’t have any memory books. But now I do. Yes, now I do.” And he read every word of the President’s inscription again; this time aloud. Chris added, “That’s it! Not bad! I think we can draw from this that we—us—the United States has a future in space.”
“And the President of the United States has the name and dreams of Christopher Straw, as well he should!”
chorale
THEME FIFTEEN
“GOD SPEED, JOHN GLENN”
BY THIS TIME OF HIS LIFE, Christopher Straw had known and loved many women, knew and admired many men, idolized others, was fascinated by many places and cherished the mission of his life. February of 1962 held the epitomes of all those treasures up to this date: The woman was Anna Lane, the men were seven Astronauts, the idols were those who had become Presidents of the United States, the place was Pad 14 of Florida’s Cape Canaveral, and the mission was the black night sky to be searched.
Ahead was the most importantly awaited rocket launch of the United States: the launch of John Glenn Jr. that he had named “Friendship 7” on a Mercury-Atlas 6 Rocket. It had arrived at Cape Canaveral on August the 27th of 1961 and scheduled for a January, 1962 launch as the first manned U.S. Astronaut’s mission to orbit—not just to up and down—but to orbit the earth a number of times before landing and scheduled Glenn and the capsule to be recovered in the North Atlantic Ocean by the Recovery Forces of 17 search aircraft, 12 helicopters, and 21 ships.
The launch had gone through what could be counted as twelve postponements of “Friendship 7” with accompanying speaker-announcements on Pad 14 that “The launch scheduled for today has been scrubbed.”
It finally came on February the 20th of 1962 with a count-down of T Minus 390 Minutes, plus built-in holds—but not a scrub—to the relief and what had become the tremendous patience of John Glenn who had gone through the countless putting on and off of his spacesuit and check-outs of equip-ment—and to the anxiety of thousands of workers on the Cape who on a daily basis were running out and in and out of their offices a
nd hangers on belief that the launch would be just minutes away, and to thousands of those who came to adjoining Florida areas to the Cape to become observers to history on the outlying sands of Cocoa Beach as they looked toward the Cape.
And there was Christopher Straw who, with others at the Cape, lived through the magic of feeling a high point of four of five senses known to Man all in one moment: the scent, the sound, the feel, and the sight:
There were the scents of the Cape and Pad 14’s Blockhouse and the Pad’s Ready Room and of the Pad’s launching section itself, and the Cape’s Central Control. All of them had a distinctive scent of their own.
There was the sound of the screaming noise—uncontrollably loud—of the liquid oxygen at a temperature of minus 297 degrees Fahrenheit flowing through the pipe lines, causing the pipes to freeze and contract and to emit the sound of a thousand high pitched screams while the rocket appeared as though it was wearing white ghost-like gowns waving in the wind.
The other towers and much of the rest of the Cape heard the screaming noise and knew it was the warning sound before launch.
There was the feel of mosquitos who likely came to bite as many strangers to Florida as they could find.
There was the totally unsuspected sight of a dog that seemed to appear out of nowhere running around the Blockhouse, then running around the Ready Room Shack, probably frightened but seeming in total control of him or herself and not going anywhere near the rocket. More predominant, there was the sight of the massive gantry; the tower as it let go of its embrace of the Atlas, then slowly and sadly moving backwards and to the east so the rocket could be free.
That was followed by the falling back of the umbilical cord that was giving the rocket its energy-juices and the moving away of the thin tower from which the umbilical cord was attached. With the cord’s disconnection, any touch with the Atlas by anything other than the arms of the yellow launcher at its base were gone. The launcher arms were holding the rocket down but would lift up at the right note in the countdown, leaving the rocket free to be launched.
There was the sound of a voice from the Blockhouse. It was Astronaut Scott Carpenter as the communicator talking through the sound system to the active Astronaut Glenn as Carpenter gave one more statement heard by John Glenn prior to the launch:
“God Speed, John Glenn.”
And then there was an unearthly roar that could successfully compete with any rival from thunder if there was any thunder even thinking of holding a competition. It was the roar of the Atlas leaving earth with its cargo of a manned space-craft as its capsule occupied by John Glenn Jr. who was sitting in that space-craft attached to the Atlas that was now taking off from earth in living quarters no bigger than a telephone booth.
Those observing from the Cape and from miles away in Florida were gifted with the sight of the rising Atlas now on its mission.
Four hours, fifty-five minutes and 23 seconds after launch, it was over. The third orbit and re-entry to Earth had been achieved and after recovery of the space capsule by the U.S.S. Destroyer Noa, and then after a short flight by one of the three helicopters who had been waiting, there was the sight of John Glenn emerging from one of the helicopters and walking outside toward its pilot’s cabin so as to shake hands in thanks to the last one in a series of ones who brought him to safety. And there was, to any close observer, the sight of tears of appreciation unshakably masking John Glenn’s eyes.
There were also tears of joy in the eyes of the thousands or millions of those who had watched the launch and recovery on television or at least heard them on radio.
And Scott Carpenter’s call of “God Speed, John Glenn” was heard by Christopher Straw on that golden day and apparently heard by so many millions around the world and particularly heard by God and by John Glenn; the two major figures for whom Scott Carpenter’s message was intended.
THEME SIXTEEN
BACK TO THE SCHOOL ROOM
IT WAS SIMILAR TO THE FIRST DAY of the Fall Semester in 1939 at school but this time Christopher Straw was much older than he was when he prepared his inkwell as a recipient for one of Nancy Benford’s two pig-tails. And now he was not a student but a teacher in front of those in their late teens and a few maybe in their early twenties and all of this was far away from Pennsylvania’s public schools he knew so well. Instead of McConnellsburg Elementary School it was San Diego State College for his first session teaching an evening extension course on the subject of Space Exploration on assignment requested of him by his superiors at NASA and Convair Astronautics as an adjunct to his normal work at Convair Astronautics. It was scheduled for Thursday nights at 6:00 P.M. through 9:00 P.M. with pizza arriving at its conclusion.
The classroom was filled. “The ‘Log-In’ has 34 names on it,” Chris said to his class. “And I’m glad there is that kind of attendance here. Thank you for coming. Since you don’t get any credits for attending this extension course, the only reason you can be here is because you’re interested enough in the subject to spend some evenings of this semester in the subject of these sessions—and that is to your credit—I mean real credit; not to raise your credits for a grade but to raise your questions about the new frontier of space exploration—and that says a lot about you.
“One question before anything else: How many watched the live telecast of the launch of ‘Friendship 7’ last week?”
Close to two-thirds of the class raised their hands.
“Wonderful. You have a real sense of the valuable moments worth watching on television. Anyone here have any questions about it?”
About six or seven hands raised and were slowly joined by six or seven more. Chris nodded. “Yes?” as he pointed to the nearest one; a boy who not only had his hand up but was nodding with fast motions. “Yes. Go ahead. First, what’s your name?”
“Ned. Ned Wilson.”
“Yes—go ahead, Ned.”
“I want to be an Astronaut, Professor Straw. What do I do to become one? I mean I’m serious about this career and it’s my ambition now—after watching John Glenn and what he did. What would you say are my chances?”
Chris nodded again. “Your chances are better than mine and I want to be an Astronaut, too,” Chris said and a number of those in the class laughed. “No. I’m not kidding. I want to be an Astronaut and I wanted to be an Astronaut before there were any Astronauts at all. Your chances are pretty good considering since you, Ned, are a young guy and will have opportunities that are only going to get easier as the years go on. When this program started; the Mercury Astronauts that have now had space flights; Shephard, Grissom and Glenn, had to go through a nightmare of requirements and, frankly, most of the requirements are still holding. You have to have been a test-pilot with a minimum of 1500 hours in flight and have a bachelor’s degree and have been—or in one of the U.S. Armed Services. That’s all according to Scott Carpenter and he adds that you have to be physically fit to perfection. After that basic acceptance then the real tests begin: exercising—Glenn ran five miles a day for a long while only tapering off just before flight for rest purposes prior to the flight. I’m leaving out the study of astronomy. He had to know constellations of the stars—all kinds of absorption in things. A list of those things would take the evening to itemize.”
“Why do you think I could qualify?”
“Ned, I think everyone in his room will probably qualify. It’s because of your ages. Hold old are you?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
“You have a lot of time. Stay well, but look; Deke Slayton is one of the Mercury Seven and last year a heartbeat irregularity was discovered by the medical team that examined him. As I understand it’s like a heart murmur under ordinary conditions but not known if it would be dangerous in space flight, so pretty soon the doctors will see whether or not he’s able to go up. Maybe he can and maybe the Mercury Seven will have only six members while he sits it out. In addition to that kind of thing, I’m leaving out a catalogue of rigid requirements. I repeat; stay well. But ke
ep in mind that the initial qualifications are bound to drop off. Many already will probably drop off when the Glenn flight is fully analyzed.”
A young woman quickly raised her hand to be ahead of the others and she added, “Professor Straw?”
“Yes M’am.”
“I’m Lauri. You said every one of us could become an Astronaut. Do you mean women, too? Can a woman ever become an Astronaut?”
“Not yet. But you can count on that in short time. It’s no secret that the Soviet Union is hinting they’re already training some women to go up into space. If all goes well I’m sure we’ll be sending women up, too.”
Another young woman, without putting up her hand but simply shouted to him said, “Professor Straw, why was John Glenn in his ‘Friendship 7’ capsule going three orbits considered to be so important when last year the Soviet Union had two launches of their Astronauts both going into orbit—and one of the Soviet’s Astronauts went over ten orbits?”
Chris nodded. “Good question. Some minor corrections: first: I appreciate it but you don’t need to call me professor. Call me anything you want. But I’m not a real professor—but that’s kind of you. Second, the Soviet Union doesn’t call space travelers Astronauts. They call them Cosmonauts and we refer to them that way out of courtesy to their work—their space programs—our appreciation of their Cosmonauts. And it was their Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin who last year of 1961 went into orbit—one orbit. He was the first man in the world to travel in orbit. And then around four months later there was Gherman Titov who, as you indicated, was another of their Cosmonauts and he went over ten orbits—in fact he went seventeen orbits. But one great difference between their launches and ours: ‘Friendship 7’ was launched live on television for the entire world to see as it happened—success or failure, just like Alan Shephard and Gus Grissom. Grissom almost lost his life just before recovery of his capsule, ‘Liberty Bell 7,’ and that recovery was seen live in front of the world. Grissom got out safe but the capsule sunk. And you’ll remember that there were four minutes and twenty seconds of Glenn’s flight of ‘Friendship 7’ when we lost voice contact with him from an ionization blackout and those at Central Control were plenty worried that—we weren’t in the know—but we were worried that maybe he was gone. Pretty rough. We had contingencies from the first time there was an Astronaut launched—from Shephard to Grissom to Glenn—including a contingency of a speech by President Kennedy all prepared and rehearsed by him just in case. Pretty rough. It would be in front of the world. You knew our fear if you were watching on television or listening to the radio. That’s the way we operate when it comes to manned flight into space. Our manned launches have been and will be watched and heard by the world as they happen—or at least by those people in nations that have radio for sound or live television for both sound and sight. It’s the difference between closed societies and free societies. I have no idea whether any Soviet—any of their Cosmonauts were launched before Yuri Gagarin and, if there were such launches, were they successes or failures. I don’t know. Do you?”
Raising the Baton Page 13