On the whole, a reevaluation of the role of the First World War in Goddard’s career and in the development of spaceflight in general also seems in order. Although it would be the Second World War that would enable the development of the first vehicle to reach above Earth’s atmosphere, the First World War enabled the emergence of the first major rocketry research and development program motivated, at least on the supply side, by a spaceflight objective. As with the liquid-fuel rocket development led by Wernher von Braun at Peenemünde in Germany during the Second World War, the objective of spaceflight was not embraced by or even known to those that provided the funds to Goddard. It was nonetheless a principal motivation in his initiation of the project. Furthermore, while it was short-lived, Goddard’s wartime research program was a high-profile one. It had the regular attention of and was supported by some of the most powerful people in American military research—Walcott, Stratton, Hale, and Squier. The project had access to top-class facilities and had the interest of multiple branches of the War Department. With an expenditure of $25,000 over roughly eight months—around seventeen times Goddard’s annual salary as head of the Physics Department at Clark—it was an amply funded research-and-development project, given the stage of the technology at the time. The war also led to industry interest in the technology and taught Goddard his first lessons in private partnerships, government bureaucracy, and project management. Interestingly, in Europe, the First World War also seems to have stimulated plans for spaceflight technology development. Hermann Oberth, believing that the liquid-fuel-rocket designs he was working on could win the war by bombarding London, later wrote that he made his first pursuit of serious rocket development when he traveled to the German consulate in Kronstadt—now Brasov, Romania—to have his rocket designs sent to Berlin, only to receive a reply that deemed his idea impractical.74
In America, the imperative of war and the attendant weapons research budgets did allow a pioneer of spaceflight to conduct meaningful experimental work on his spaceflight technology. The potential military application of Goddard’s rocket was even the hook he used when he pitched his story to Worcester’s Evening Gazette after the war. On March 28, 1919, The Evening Gazette provided the first public exposure of his work, taking a distinctly militaristic approach in its first of many stories on Goddard:
INVENTS ROCKET WITH ALTITUDE RANGE 70 MILES
Terrible Engine of War Developed in Worcester by Dr. Robert Goddard, Professor of Physics at Clark, in Laboratory of Worcester Tech, Under Patronage of U.S. War Department.75
It would be through this story, which would be picked up by city newspapers across the country, and the first open publication of his research shortly thereafter, that Goddard removed the veil of secrecy under which he had been working. He did so in order to pursue other types of public support, this time leveraging direct interest in his rockets’ spaceflight applications.
The postwar era was an important transition for Goddard. Although he was back in Worcester and no longer at the center of a major funded research program, his leave from teaching at Clark had been extended through the school year. While much of his time was dedicated to pursuing various military projects, he also had time to strike out in new directions. In particular, in January 1919, he resumed his considerations and calculations for liquid-fuel rockets, which he had effectively suspended in 1909.76 The liquid-fuel rocket would eventually become his driving objective. In early 1919, however, the multiple-charge solid-fuel apparatus remained his focus and, with the profile he had gained from the Evening Gazette article, he decided it was time to go public with his plans. In a letter to Abbot on April 7, Goddard inquired as to the possibility of publishing under Smithsonian auspices an updated version of his original manuscript on the high-altitude solid-fuel rocket.77 Abbot responded that there was still $3,000 remaining from the original $5,000 grant from the Hodgkins Fund and that the Smithsonian would agree to publish the work if Goddard would permit the use of some of those funds to cover the costs.78 The manuscript would be published in the Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, volume 71, number 2, in December 1919 under the title “A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes” and would mark a major turning point in the development of spaceflight. In the meantime, Goddard made his first and last attempt to start a business—again related to his pursuit of military dollars.
The company Industrial Research Laboratories of Worcester was initiated by Goddard along with two partners: Dr. Louis Thompson, a colleague at Clark who had worked on military applications during the war, and Nils Riffolt, Goddard’s graduate student and long-serving machinist. The group had formed the company in May 1919, copurchasing a company car and printing a letterhead. Although Thompson seems to have been the principal motivator, Goddard evidently gave the concern significant attention. In a letter to Abbot in September, Goddard pointed to the company as the reason he had recently been spending only a small amount of time on the multiple-charge device: “The chief reason for this is the time and effort I have expended in helping start the ‘Industrial Research Laboratories’ of Worcester, in which I am one of the partners . . . a demonstration having just been staged at the laboratory for a large arms concern, with which we have already done considerable business.”79 Evidently this “large arms concern” was the Winchester Repeating Arms Company, as Goddard’s diary records numerous instances of conversations with Thompson and Riffolt about a “Winchester proposition” and a visit of the three of them to New Haven in January 1920.80 This visit, which was the last reference to the company in his diaries, also coincided with the increasing publicity that followed Goddard’s Smithsonian publication. It is unclear what role either event played in the company fading from further reference in the diaries. The short-lived relationship again confirms Goddard’s eagerness to be involved with armaments production, as well as his entrepreneurial streak and interest in establishing business partnerships as part of his plans for spaceflight. However, the failure of Industrial Research Laboratories, despite a strong stable of well-connected researchers and directors, is also an early indication of Goddard’s limited ability to execute on his self-directed projects without the assistance and guidance of a patron.81 This inability would come to the fore over the next two years as he struggled to convert the newspaper story of the year—his “moon-going rocket”—into a single instance of funding.
When the Smithsonian published Goddard’s “A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes” in December 1919, the result was a genuine and sustained explosion of interest in spaceflight as the American public began to consider it a real near-term possibility. Although Goddard’s manuscript was highly technical and conservative in its claims, his statements under the heading “Calculation of Minimum Mass Required to Raise One Pound to an ‘Infinite’ Altitude” generated significant publicity. The text that generated the excitement discussed principally the question of how to prove that a payload had reached an effectively “infinite” altitude: “The only reliable procedure would be to send the smallest mass of flash powder possible to the dark surface of the moon when in conjunction (i.e., the ‘new’ moon), in such a way that it would be ignited on impact. The light would then be visible in a powerful telescope.” 82 This idea, buried at the end of the report, was highlighted in the accompanying press release from the Smithsonian. With a Smithsonian publication declaring the possibility of a rocket reaching the Moon, the result was predictably sensational. The Boston Herald’s headline was representative of many:
NEW ROCKET DEVISED BY PROF. GODDARD MAY HIT FACE OF THE MOON: Clark College Professor Has Perfected Invention for Exploring Space—Smithsonian Society Backs It83
On January 12, 1920, headlines of this type appeared in newspapers across the country, from New York to San Francisco. The following day, the excitement was even stronger, with articles now accompanied by spaceflight-themed political cartoons, opinion pieces, and letters.84 Some were more sedate, such as the Newark News, which stated simply ATMOSPHERE EDGE CONDITIONS TO BE STUDIED BY ROCK
ET.85 There was no question, however, which version of the story made better copy—or sold more papers. In an era with often multiple newspapers and multiple editions competing in a single city, exciting headlines and new updates were critical to journalistic success. Goddard’s fantastic story of space travel provided the perfect hook, and the story continued to grow. On January 16, it was announced that Rear Admiral William S. Sims, commander of all U.S. Navy forces in Europe during the war, believed that it was possible that a rocket could reach the Moon as Goddard had described, adding further public credibility to the idea.86 The public discussion of spaceflight soon made rapid strides in the pages of the nation’s dailies. One such example is this meditation, originally from the Cleveland Plain Dealer: “And with this as a beginning who can tell how far we might not shoot in the centuries to come? Mars is the next step, and beyond Mars are untold myriads of worlds to conquer. One obvious difficulty in the way of shooting a star instead of the moon or Mars is that it would require a good many dozens of billions of years for the most active rockets to reach its destination, and the people of the earth might forget all about the experiment before its completion.” 87 Spaceflight was hot off the presses and the nation was enthusiastic about a flight that was expected to occur in the very near future. Goddard’s farsighted vision had stoked a popular demand for space exploration.
Goddard’s first statement after the story broke, however, gives an early indication of his mixed feelings toward the public enthusiasm and his inability to convert this enthusiasm into financial support. He had been very cautious in his claims and had not even begun to enunciate his more ambitious plans and visions of interplanetary travel in the manuscript. He was evidently also somewhat uncertain as to how to react to the public attention he had generated. On January 17, The Pittsburgh Dispatch carried an overtly negative statement from Goddard under the heading NOT A MOON ROCKET: “While popular interest in the successful flight of a rocket from the earth to the moon may be intense, the scientific importance is so negligible that it could not justify the experiment.” 88 In a curious juxtaposition, however, the following day he released a statement that initiated his request for a major fund of $50,000–$100,000. The scale of his funding request—at two to four times the size of his prodigious wartime military grant—shows his ambition. For comparison, the hottest new luxury at the time, a 1919 Model T Ford touring car, now with electric starter, cost only $525.89 Amazingly, even when announcing his intention to raise a fund by popular subscription,90 he continued to downplay expectations:
In the first place too much attention has been concentrated on the proposed flash-powder experiment and too little on the exploration of the atmosphere. My reason for saying this is not because I believe the former is entirely unrealizable. In fact, if I were to speculate boldly instead of timidly I would say that based upon equally sound physical principles is the possibility of obtaining photographs in space by an apparatus guided by photosensitive cells . . . precautions being taken to ensure a sufficiently safe and conspicuous landing on the return. To continue a speculation, however, on matters concerning which there is little experimental data would, of course, be unwise.91
Unwise, perhaps, in the eyes of a fastidiously cautious scientist, but for a person endeavoring to raise funds for a spectacular development, when the press was full of gusto and enthusiasm on the subject, to request a massive public subscription campaign in association with such negative and cautious statements demonstrated more naïveté than wisdom.
Newspapers writers were nonetheless impressively perceptive on how Goddard’s funding request could potentially play out. The Baltimore News immediately saw the potential source from which Goddard’s most significant funds would come: “The sum of $50,000 or $100,000 which Dr. Goddard suggests as necessary to get his rockets in working order is not large, as prices go nowadays. He will hardly get it by popular subscription, but millionaires have financed wilder schemes.”92 The focus on the potential interest of the wealthy in spaceflight would continue in the press for a number of years: “Wanted: A millionaire who is tired of this earth and would like to travel to the moon. There are many who would like to leave the earth, but they haven’t the money to pay the fare.”93 On a more general level, The Bridgeport Telegram, in a witty piece discussing the initial issue of stock for a fictional company, “The Inter-Stellar Rapid Transit Co.,” highlighted the potential legacy value of the endeavor: “Consider the chap who paid a comet discoverer $50,000 recently to act as godfather and namesake for the celestial newcomer.”94 The piece also explicitly recognized the nonmarket, and nonprofit, nature of the early development: “No, ‘Cautious Investor’ and ‘Inexperienced,’ no, this stock will not be for such as you. Stick to your oil and your punctureless tires and new-fangled fast mail pouch catchers and leave Inter-Stellar for those who can afford to invest in notoriety, even honor, without regard to profits.”95 It seemed to observers in the 1920s that intrinsic interests, signaling motives, and private financing would propel forward the exploration of space.
The popular view that private financing and the interests of the wealthy would be the most likely source of support for spaceflight already had cultural momentum prior to the public announcement of Goddard’s ambitions. John Jacob Astor IV, scion and heir to the Astor family fortune, wrote an extensively researched work of spaceflight fiction, A Journey in Other Worlds, in 1894.96 For the first time, an individual with the resources and inclination to invest in spaceflight expressed an eagerness to do so. For the first time, in Astor’s book, the potential role of government support and technical assistance was recognized as a possible enabler for the development of a privately funded spacecraft as part of a public-private partnership: all previous American stories of spaceflight fiction had in fact depicted spaceflight as being achieved by individual will and resources alone. Most importantly though, A Journey in Other Worlds gave the idea of spaceflight a level of social acceptance that it had not previously enjoyed. The very fact that an Astor had written such a book lent the idea credibility. Though reviews outside of New York were more critical, those from within the burgeoning commercial metropolis were positively enthusiastic, with one declaring that “large public attention” had been centered on the book for weeks.97Astor’s well-known book thus helped lay the groundwork for the almost wholly positive public reception that liquid-fuel rocketry pioneer Robert Goddard received when his work and ambitions became known to the world. Indeed, it is fascinating to consider what type of relationship the two men might have developed had John Jacob Astor IV not decided, after helping his wife and others to the lifeboats, to go down with the Titanic in 1912 at the age of forty-eight, and what the combined forces of the Astors, the Guggenheims, and Robert Goddard might have achieved for the development of American rocketry.
The initial public enthusiasm for the Goddard announcement was such that individuals were soon publicly declaring their intentions to travel on Goddard’s rocket. Regular updates and repeats of the story continued through the month, and on February 5, Captain Claude Collins of the New York City Air Police announced that he was volunteering to fly to Mars.98 The story gained widespread media coverage, and when Collins announced that all he requested in return was a $10,000 insurance policy for the benefit of his heirs in the case of accident, the predictable result was an immediate announcement by four others that they would be prepared to take the trip uninsured.99 In total, in the next few years, over a hundred people would volunteer to travel into space on Goddard’s rockets.100 By the end of February, popular enthusiasm and expectations for interplanetary flight had become so great that The Spokesman-Review in Spokane, Washington, felt obliged to try to provide some basic logistical insight into the matter:
THAT FLIGHT TO PLANET MARS—Would Take a Year to Reach the Goal and the Traveler Would Be Hungry.101
Although Goddard enjoyed the flood of publicity, the unending volunteering and lack of funding soon became a source of annoyance to him; he later commented that what he needed
then was “less volunteering and more solid support.”102
Goddard nonetheless actively tried to leverage this enthusiasm into a public subscription campaign. The fact that he chose this funding model, and the details of his ad hoc speaking tour, reveal his limited experience as a public fund-raiser. As recognized by The Baltimore News, the public subscription model had been in steep decline in the early twentieth century, eclipsed by the rise of private philanthropic foundations. Goddard had also long ago recognized the potential for single, wealthy individuals to undertake complicated, expensive engineering projects, as seen in his juvenile short story about a magnetic-levitation train project, in which he wrote of his wealthy protagonist’s ambition, “now, where there are millions, there must surely be a way.”103 Despite this early recognition, as well as his significant connections through the Smithsonian, however, he eschewed a concerted campaign of personal approaches to potential patrons. Instead he placed his appeal to potential wealthy patrons within a general campaign for public subscription. In doing so, he was looking to employ the same model as had been used in Verne’s From the Earth to the Moon and in some of the civic astronomical observatories of the previous century. Appropriately enough, the most publicized of Goddard’s fund-raising speeches, to the Chicago chapter of the American Association of Engineers, was in the city that, over half a century earlier, had built the last of the great civic observatories funded by public subscription.104 In a large hall, five hundred people listened to Goddard lecture on his plans and responded enthusiastically to them, resolving to assist him not by reaching for their wallets but by lobbying the millionaires of Chicago on his behalf.105
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