Rocket Girl

by George D. Morgan

  “That's a brilliant idea, Ned.”

  But Kanarek interjected. “What if the vent valve doesn't reclose? It could be a disaster.”

  Ned stared out the window. “Irving is right. This is outside of normal procedure.”

  “We don't have any other option, Ned.”

  The loudspeaker: “Fifteen seconds. Fourteen, thirteen…”

  Ned inhaled and exhaled. “What the hell. Let's try it.”

  Keeping her eyes on the test stand, Mary grabbed the knob labeled “OXYGEN TANK VENT,” and gave it a one-quarter turn. From this distance, and behind the two-foot-thick concrete blockhouse walls, there was no way any of them could have heard the hissing of the vented oxygen vapors. But just as a falling tree in a forest does make a sound even when no one is around to hear it, so too did the vented oxygen.

  But nothing happened—the condor stayed right where it was.

  Richard waded through the crowd and put his arm around his wife. Everyone was quiet.

  At that moment, the automatic pre-launch warning siren began its wail. The addition of the siren to the hissing tank apparently was enough. After a few more seconds, the room filled with enthusiastic cheers, mingled with some disappointed “ohs,” as the giant bird kicked off the concrete, flapped its wings hard, and pulled itself slowly into the sky.

  Ned shouted. “Close the tank!”

  “Done,” said Mary.

  The condor was gaining altitude. Even so, Mary knew the danger was not over; there was still the shock wave.

  “Four…three…two…”

  A quiet beat—then suddenly an intense hurricane of fire, a tornado of flame, roared from the rocket's nozzle at a speed greater than sound. A moment passed, then the shock wave collided with the blockhouse, pounding it like a 9.0 earthquake. Everyone watched the test without much emotion—they had experienced this a hundred times before. It was all very routine—science going about its daily tasks.

  Except for the bird, it was just another day at the office.

  The sudden hissing sound had bothered the condor, and for a few moments she considered taking flight. But her keen eyes saw no evidence of a predator, and so she had remained. But when that discordant wail began, well—that was too much. She kicked her legs and ascended above the cement, climbing skyward. She crooked her head slightly to left, then right. She needed to find water, and began to search her memory for spots she had found in the past. She climbed another hundred feet in elevation, and then some unseen force kicked her hard from behind. It must have been very much like what the coyote had felt when it had been hit earlier that morning by the speeding car—a solid impact that sent the bird spiraling out of control. A mere second later, there was a roar—a roar like nothing she had ever heard—pounding her tiny ears and hammering every cell in her body. The ground was coming up fast, and then she hit, bounced twice, and landed in some scrub grass next to a mound of cactus. She had fallen past the summit of a ridgeline, which helped to dampen the sound. Time passed, and she waited. The sound eventually stopped, and the dry hills returned to solitude.

  A long breath, and the condor once again took flight.

  As she climbed beyond the ridgeline far above the large bell and its concrete compound, the condor began to feel something strange—a feeling she had never had before. A new instinct was kicking in and demanding she find a safe place to build a nest. This puzzled her, though she could not deny the power of the urge.

  But first she needed water. There was a place she had visited once before—a cool, breezy spot with a year-round spring in the mountains about twenty miles northwest. The water there would be sweet and plentiful, and there would be many rocky outcrops on which to build a safe home. The California condor flapped her left wing, dipped her right, and banked for a wide turn. She caught an energetic thermal and glided on.

  It took me several years to convince myself this book could be written. As memoirs go, it was full of potential bear traps and land mines. How does one write a memoir about a person who should have been famous, but wasn't? A person for whom there was no historical record to sift through. A person who did everything they could to bury their accomplishments and legacy, like pirates burying booty on some desert island, then burning the map. There came a day when I decided there was only one way a memoir like that could be written: as my own journey and adventure in search for that hidden treasure.

  There is wide disagreement in the Sherman family over why Mary was not allowed to attend school for several years. In fact, they seem to disagree on a lot of family-history details. My mother often told the story of how the State of North Dakota gave her a horse so she could get across the river to attend school, yet one Sherman-family descendent claims there was no river to cross at all. That was only one of many muddy research details I had to wade through during this project.

  The genre of this book is what is referred to in English writing courses as creative nonfiction. In creative nonfiction, the story is true but the writer must be “creative,” that is, they must use dramatic license to invent some details in order to make the work readable. This story is true, but many details had to be invented. Unless otherwise cited, the dialogue between the characters, especially the NAA employees, is invented, though the situations during which that dialogue occurs were actual events. For example, the conversation between Mary, Bill Webber, and Toru Shimizu about simultaneous nonlinear equations really happened, but none of the dialogue was recorded at the time. I pieced together plausible dialogue based on my recollections of many conversations with Mr. Webber and Mr. Kanarek, and the memories and suggestions they expressed to me.

  Many details of the story of hydyne, and the early space program in general, have been poorly recorded or not recorded at all. General Medaris was a real person, and his working relationship with Wernher von Braun, along with his responsibilities over the Redstone program, are fairly well documented. But the actual mechanics of how the propellant contract was presented to North American were not made available to me by NAA's current corporate descendent: Boeing. Therefore, the character of Colonel Wilkins (invented) and his meeting with Tom Meyers (the actual NAA engineering manager) are invented. The incident with the rocket punching through the Berlin police station was a real event, but the names of the police officers involved could not be found, so I had no choice but to invent both of them. The accident at Santa Susanna involving two technicians inhaling pentaborane and having to inchworm their way to the blockhouse really happened, but Boeing would not release their names, so I had to come up with a couple of names for the sake of the story. Several minor characters are based on real people, but their names have been changed, too (e.g., Nick Toby). The dialogue for Private John M. Galione was inspired by Mary Nahas's story about her father's exploits, The Heroic Journey of Private Galione, but there is no record of the actual conversations in the German wilderness. Also, the story of the California condor taking shade beneath the bell of a rocket during the final countdown to its test firing is true, but its place in time has been altered somewhat for the sake of storytelling.

  I hope no one will judge this work harshly for such inventions. Without some creative liberties, the legacy and contributions of Mary Sherman Morgan, as well as the other NAA employees mentioned in this book, would have been lost to history forever.

  This is an imperfect book. It's imperfect because it relates a chapter of history that has not been well recorded. There are many gaps in the narrative that might be filled someday, and I look forward to that happening. Boeing could have been of more help, but, for the most part, they chose not to participate. Joel Landau at Rocketdyne's photo and video department stepped up to the plate and provided several much-needed archival photographs, for which I am very appreciative. Despite the many barriers, the main goal has been achieved: to perform research into the subject matter and create a book that, like my play from 2008, might jog more facts into the open at some future time.

  I want to thank my professors at California Stat
e University, Channel Islands, and University of California, Riverside, for their contributions to my belated creative-writing degree, a degree I did not seriously pursue when I should have (something about turning 50 made me want to get out of my easy chair and do something). Each one of these instructors has contributed in some way toward making me a better writer, and in toto bringing me to a place where I could finally bring into the light of day my mother's long-buried accomplishments. These professors, in no particular order, are Julia Balén, Joan Peters, Sean Carswell, Bob Mayberry, Andrea Marzell, Jacquelyn Kilpatrick, Ray Singer, Renny Christopher, Julie Barmazel, Luda Popenhagen, and Greg Kamei from Cal State Channel Islands, and Joshua Malkin, Deanne Stillman, William Rabkin, and Charles Evered from the University of California, Riverside.

  I would like to thank all of those who helped with the research: my brother, Stephen Morgan, and my sisters, Ruth Fichter, Monica Weber, and Karen Newe. They helped by providing needed documents and photographs from family history, along with details of stories and events related to them by our mother and other family members. Monica and Karen pitched in to do some interviews when it became apparent I would not have time to do them all myself. Dorothy Sherman Hegstad provided information no one else seemed to have, including a Sherman family genealogy. A big thank-you to Duane Ashby for writing my mother's Wikipedia page.

  Friends, colleagues, and former coworkers of my parents were very supportive with historical details: Dan Ruttle, Walter Unterberg, Joe Friedman, Don Jenkins, Bill Wagner, and Irving Kanarek. A special shout-out to Bill Vietinghoff, who pulled some strings and arranged for me to tour the Santa Susanna Field Laboratory just two weeks shy of the manuscript's due date.

  The book would never have come about without the stage play, and so I would like to thank Shirley Marneus, Brian Brophy, and all my friends at TACIT for their many efforts and contributions. The book also owes its existence to my tireless agent, Deborah Ritchken of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

  Neither the play nor the book would exist were it not for three individuals: my wife, Lisa, who has been so supportive, my father, G. Richard Morgan, who regaled me endlessly with stories from his aerospace golden years, and Bill Webber, one of my mother's favorite and closest colleagues at North American Aviation. Their enthusiasm for this project never wavered.

  Mary Sherman's high-school graduation photo, May 1940. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Richard and Mary Morgan's wedding day, July 29, 1951. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Mary was interested in many facets of science, including geology. Here she is holding a quartz crystal she dug up in the Mojave Desert. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Richard and Mary with their firstborn son and future biographer, George. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Burro-ing through the Yosemite wilderness. The author and his younger brother, Stephen, ride tandem. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Mary (center) holds her first-place bridge trophy. One of many. The standing onlooker is her proud husband, Richard. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  Mary at her desk at North American Aviation. Note the mechanical calculator at the right. Courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  One of the Redstone main engines powered by hydyne. Courtesy of Rocketdyne.

  Redstone engine undergoing a horizontal hot-fire test at the Santa Susana Field Laboratory. Courtesy of Rocketdyne.

  The Redstone/Jupiter C rocket with Explorer 1 satellite leaves the launchpad, powered by liquid oxygen and hydyne, January 31, 1958. Courtesy of NASA.

  A local paper, the Huntsville Times, proudly announces the achievement of America's first satellite. Courtesy of NASA/Marshall Space Flight Center.

  The Explorer 1 post-launch press conference included some theatrics. William Pickering (left), James van Allen (center), and Wernher von Braun (right). Courtesy of NASA.

  The author with Irving Kanarek. Courtesy of the author.

  Bill Webber (left) and Bill Vietinghoff (right). Courtesy of the author.

  Scene from the November 2008 Caltech production of Rocket Girl. Left to right: David Seal (Tom Meyers), Cliff Chang (Bill Webber), Hui Ying Wen (various roles), Jon Napolitano (Joe Friedman), Meg Rosenberg (various roles), Christina Kondos (Mary Sherman Morgan), Kevin Welch (Irving Kanarek), Garrett Lewis (Don Jenkins), and Todd Brun (Colonel Wilkins). Courtesy of the author.

  Caltech president Jean-Lou Chameau; G. Richard Morgan; the actor who played him—Jim Carnesky; Bill Webber; the actor who played him—Cliff Chang; and the director, Brian Brophy. Courtesy of the author.

  CHAPTER 1: THIS IS A STORY

  1. Robert S. Kraemer, Rocketdyne: Powering Humans into Space (Reston, VA: AIAA, 2005). Quote is from the liner notes.

  2. Walter Unterberg, interview with the author, August 10, 2004.

  CHAPTER 2: PRAIRIE GIRL

  1. First quoted by H. G. Wells, made famous by President Woodrow Wilson. Wikipedia, s.v. “The War to End War,” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_war_to_end_all_wars.

  CHAPTER 3: THE RAKETENFLUGPLATZ

  1. Bob Ward, Dr. Space: The Life of Wernher von Braun (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), p. 12.

  2. Michael J. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer of Space, Engineer of War (New York: Vintage Books, 2007), p. 47.

  3. Erik Bergaust, Wernher von Braun (New York: Cobb/Dunlop, 1976), p. 40.

  CHAPTER 5: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

  1. Mary's 1974 employment application, courtesy of G. Richard Morgan.

  CHAPTER 6: “MOTHER DOES NOT ABIDE PHOTOGRAPHY”

  1. Michael J. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer of Space, Engineer of War (New York: Vintage Books, 2007), p. 70.

  2. Ibid. and Bob Ward, Dr. Space: The Life of Wernher von Braun (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), p. 19.

  3. Unlike rockets, fighter aircraft were forbidden under the Versailles Treaty. Neufeld, Von Braun, p. 74.

  4. Project Paperclip. Ward, Dr. Space, p. 59.

  5. Neufeld, Von Braun, p. 71.

  6. Ward, Dr. Space, p. 17.

  7. Neufeld, Von Braun, pp. 74, 81.

  CHAPTER 7: THE GREAT ESCAPE

  1. Bob Ward, Dr. Space: The Life of Wernher von Braun (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2005), p. 17.

  2. Michael J. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer of Space, Engineer of War (New York: Vintage Press, 2007), pp. 82–85.

  3. Wikipedia, s.v. “Kummersdorf,” last modified May 9, 2012, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kummersdorf.

  4. Neufeld, Von Braun, pp. 110–12.

  5. Ibid.

  6. James J. Harford, Korolev: How One Man Masterminded the Soviet Drive to Beat America to the Moon (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1997), p. 49.

  7. Ibid., p. 50.

  8. Ibid.

  9. “Gulag: Soviet Forced Labor Camps and the Struggle for Freedom,” Center for History and New Media, George Mason University, http://gulaghistory.org/nps/onlineexhibit/stalin/work.php (accessed April 11, 2013).

  10. Stanislaw J. Kowalski, “Kolyma: The Land of Gold and Death,” ch. 7, http://www.aerobiologicalengineering.com/wxk116/sjk/kolyma7.htm (accessed April 30, 2013).

  11. According to a 1974 job application (courtesy of G. Richard Morgan), Mary graduated from Ray High School on May 31, 1940.

  12. George Richard Morgan and Elaine Sofio, interview with the author, March 23, 2002.

  CHAPTER 8: A LITTLE OF THIS, A LITTLE OF THAT

  1. Sister Mary Nadine Mathias, Sisters of Notre Dame, e-mail to the author, September 20, 2012.

  2. Ibid.

  CHAPTER 9: AN ODD NUMBER

  1. Letter from Mary to the adoptive mother in 1944, six weeks after the birth of her daughter in Philadelphia. Ruth's birthdate is April 13, 1944; her adoptive parents, Dudley Irving Hibbard and Mary Grace Hibbard, were from Huron, Ohio. This information was obtained from a Probate Court paper “Adoption of Mary G. Sherman” signed by Judge John W. Baxter and dated June 8, 1946, in possession of author.

  2. “JoanFarley1946,” “I Und
erstand Mother, I Just Want to Know What Happened,” Adoption.com Adoption Forums, originally posted March 30, 2008, http://forums.adoption.com/making-contact-communicating/330379-i-understand-mother-i-just-want-know-what-happened.html (accessed April 19, 2013).

  3. “Sherry Nelson,” “Saint Vincent's Home,” Ancestry.com Message Boards, originally posted December 17, 2002, http://boards.ancestry.com/thread.aspx?mv=flat&m=1940&p=localities.northam.usa.states.pennsylvania.counties.philadelphia (accessed April 19, 2013).

  4. This is the only version of this letter the author has found. Mary Hibbard gave it to her adopted daughter, Ruth Hibbard, at some point. Ruth eventually married a Mr. Fichter, and she kept the letter all these years. When I came out of the woodwork, Ruth sent me a thick folder of family documents, including a copy of the letter.

  5. St. Vincent's allowed unwed birth mothers to pay for some of their expenses by working in the hospital for a period of time after giving birth.

  6. Apparently, Mary was expecting a visit from her brother Vernon Sherman. This is odd since she was in Philadelphia at the time, and he, presumably, was still in North Dakota. However, since the war was still on, Vernon may have been stationed at a military base nearby.

  CHAPTER 10: HIDDEN FORTRESS

  1. Mary Nahas, The Heroic Journey of Private Galione (North Carolina: Mary's Designs, 2012), p. 53.

  2. Ibid.

  3. “World War 2 Weapons: German Machine Guns; MG-42,” http://ww2weapons1.tripod.com/worldwar2/id15.html.

  4. Erik Bergaust, Wernher von Braun (New York: Cobb/Dunlop, 1976), pp. 89–91.

  5. Ibid., p. 91. Bergaust places the number of relocated German engineers at 500. However, in his book The Nazi Rocketeers (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2007), Dennis Piszkiewicz sets the number at 400 (see pp. 190, 191).