d

National Aeronautics and Space AdministrationOffice of External RelationsHistory DivisionWashington, DC 20546

Robert C. S

PROJECT APOLLO: The Tough Decisions 

I-38949 Seamans BookCVR.Fin 4/26/05 3:31 PM Page 1

NASA SP-2005-4537

Robert C. Seamans, Jr.

PROJECT APOLLO

The Tough Decisions

Monographs in Aerospace History

Number 37 

National Aeronautics and Space Administration

Office of External Relations

History Division

Washington, DC

2005
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Seamans, Robert C.

Project Apollo: the tough decisions / Robert C. Seamans, Jr.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

1. Project Apollo (U.S). 2. Manned space flight 3. Space flight to the moon. 

I. Title.

TL789.8.U6A581653 2005

629.45’4’0973—dc22 2005003682

ii

On the cover: A Saturn rocket figuratively reaches for the Moon.
List of Figures

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Chapter 1: Introduction

Chapter 2: Eisenhower’s Legacy

Chapter 3: The Kennedy Challenge

Chapter 4: Johnson’s Solid Support

Chapter 5: NASA Management

Chapter 6: The Grand Finale

Chapter 7: The Aftermath

Appendix 1

Appendix 2

Appendix 3

About the Author

Acronyms and Abbreviations

NASA Monographs in Aerospace History Series

Index

iii

iv

vii

ix

1

5

11

57

83

107

117

127

131

139

143

145

149

151

Table of Contents
iv

List of Figures

Page 13 Figure 1 Results of a study commissioned on 6 January 1961 and chaired by George

Low. These findings were available on 7 February 1961.

Page 14 Figure 2 NASA Management Triad in the office of James E. Webb (center). He and Dr.

Robert C. Seamans, Jr. (right), listen as Dr. Hugh Dryden (left) has the floor.

(NASA Image Number 66-H-93)

Page 15 Figure 3 Sergey P. Korolev, founder of the Soviet space program, shown here in July

1954 with a dog that had just returned to Earth after a lob to an altitude of

100 kilometers on an R-1d rocket. 

Page 21 Figure 4 President John F. Kennedy congratulates astronaut Alan B. Shepard, Jr., the

first American in space, on his historic 5 May 1961 ride in the Freedom 7

spacecraft and presents him with the NASA Distinguished Service Award.

(NASA Image Number 1961ADM-13)

Page 22 Figure 5 Formation of USSR and U.S. space teams.

Page 24 Figure 6 Launch of Friendship 7 on 20 February 1962 for the first American manned

orbital spaceflight. John Glenn was on his way to becoming the first U.S. astronaut to orbit Earth. (NASA Image Number 62PC-0011)

Page 29 Figure 7 An offshore launch facility, from the Fleming study.

Page 30 Figure 8 A Vertical Assembly Building, from the Fleming study.

Page 31 Figure 9 A potential launch site, from the Fleming study. (Declassified on 28 February

2005 by Norm Weinberg, NASA Headquarters.)

Page 32 Figure 10 Layout of Launch Complex 39, from the Fleming study.

Page 41 Figure 11 The author’s sons, Toby (right) and Joe inside one of the treads of the massive

vehicle transporter (crawler) at Cape Canaveral on the day after the launching

of Gemini 3, 23 March 1965.

Page 50 Figure 12 Three cosmonauts: Gagarin, the first in space; Tereshkova, the first woman;

and Leonov, the first outside a capsule.

Page 52 Figure 13 Dr. Wernher von Braun explains the Saturn I with its hydrogen upper stage to

President John F. Kennedy. NASA Associate Administrator Robert Seamans is

to the left of von Braun. President Kennedy gave his approval to proceed with

this launch vehicle at his first budget meeting with the Agency on 12 March

1961. (NASA Image Number 64P-0145)

Page 61 Figure 14 On 3 June 1965, Edward H. White II became the first American to step outside his spacecraft and let go, effectively setting himself adrift in the zero gravity of space. For 23 minutes, White floated and maneuvered himself around the

Gemini spacecraft while logging 6,500 miles during his orbital stroll. (NASA

Image Number 565-30431)

Page 63 Figure 15 This photo of the Gemini 7 spacecraft was taken through the hatch window of

the Gemini 6 spacecraft during rendezvous. (NASA Image Number S65-

63221)

Page 69 Figure 16 An aerial view of the Launch Complex 39 area shows the Vehicle Assembly

Building (center), with the Launch Control Center on its right. On the west

side (lower end) are (left to right) the Orbiter Processing Facility, Process

Control Center, and Operations Support Building. To the east (upper end) are

Launchpads 39A (right) and 39B (just above the VAB). The crawlerway
stretches between the VAB and the launchpads toward the Atlantic Ocean,

seen beyond them. (NASA Image Number 99PP-1213)

Page 70 Figure 17 The Apollo Saturn V 500F Facilities Test Vehicle, after conducting the VAB

stacking operations, rolls out of the VAB on its way to Pad 39A to perform

crawler, Launch Umbilical Tower, and pad operations. (NASA Image Number

67-H-1187)

Page 79 Figure 18 On 9 November 1967, Apollo 4, the test flight of the Apollo/Saturn V space

vehicle, was launched from Kennedy Space Center Launch Complex 39. This

was an unmanned test flight intended to prove that the complex Saturn V

rocket could perform its requirements. (NASA Image Number 67-60629)

Page 89 Figure 19 NASA organization during the last days of the Eisenhower administration, 17

January 1961.

Page 90 Figure 20 NASA organization as revised to conduct the manned lunar landing, 1

November 1961.

Page 91 Figure 21 NASA organization as revised to strengthen Apollo and other project management teams, 1 November 1963.

Page 92 Figure 22 NASA organization following the consolidation of general management, 2

January 1966.

Page 93 Figure 23 NASA procurement procedures.

Page 95 Figure 24 Congressional budget history, NASA FY 1962.

Page 97 Figure 25 Gemini master launch schedule on 10 December 1965, with Gemini 7 in orbit

and Gemini 6 about to be launched. Five additional Gemini missions

remained.

Page 98 Figure 26 This chart shows a hypothetical mission experiencing major delay. This type of

chart was used to focus management on unfavorable project trends. 

Page 99 Figure 27 Trend chart for Gemini’s 12 launches as of 31 October 1966, 11 days before the

completion of the program.

Page 100 Figure 28 The Project Approval Document for the Apollo spacecraft, 18 December 1961.

Page 101 Figure 29 Project Approval Documents for the Apollo Program.

Page 102 Figure 30 Management organization for Apollo Program.

Page 103 Figure 31 Manpower requirements during the advancing phases of a program.

Page 104 Figure 32 Apollo Review Procedures, the essential milestones.

Page 109 Figure 33 This view of the rising Earth greeted the Apollo 8 astronauts as they came from

behind the Moon after the lunar orbit insertion burn. (NASA Image Number

68-HC-870)

Page 112 Figure 34 Astronaut Edwin E. “Buzz” Aldrin, Jr., Lunar Module pilot of the first lunar

landing mission, poses for a photograph beside the deployed United States flag

during an Apollo 11 extravehicular activity (EVA) on the lunar surface. (NASA

Image Number AS11-40-5875)

Page 114 Figure 35 President Richard M. Nixon welcomes the Apollo 11 astronauts aboard the

USS Hornet, prime recovery ship for the historic Apollo 11 lunar landing mission, in the central Pacific recovery area. (Left to right) Neil A. Armstrong,

INTRODUCTION v
commander; Michael Collins, Command Module pilot; and Buzz Aldrin,

Lunar Module pilot, are confined to the Mobile Quarantine Facility (MQF).

(NASA Image Number S69-21365)

Page 118 Figure 36 Comparison of the Soviet and U.S. manned launches during the period from

1961 through 1970.

Page 119 Figure 37 N-1 on the pad with its umbilical tower, along with the umbilical arms that

provided ready access.

Page 120 Figure 38 Comparison of the Soviet N-1 with the U.S. Saturn V.

Page 121 Figure 39 A photograph of the Soviet Lunar Lander and Return Vehicle taken at the

Moscow Aviation Institute on 28 November 1989. The occasion was a visit by

three Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) professors—Lawrence

Young (left center), Jack Kerrebrock (the photographer), and Edward Crawley

(not pictured). 

Page 122 Figure 40 Soviet disaster: the N-1 explodes.

Page 123 Figure 41 The Lunar Rover provided the astronauts with an opportunity to explore the

landing area to distances of 10 miles. This capability was available for the final

three lunar missions. (NASA Image Number AS17-147-22526)

vi
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS vii

Gene, my bride, has been patient with me for many years, 63 to be exact. In the past, I’ve traveled

extensively, and even when home, I’ve had deadlines to meet and weekend activities to attend. So last

January, in retirement, I asked my daughters whether it was fair to embark on another major endeavor.

I explained why I wanted again to put pencil to paper. They thought I should, but only if their mother was

sympathetic. Gene was not just enthusiastic; she was supportive from then until now, even when I disappeared behind closed doors for countless hours. 

My output on foolscap is illegible to most, but somehow Julie Cleary, my associate, was able to interpret and transcribe the contents. There were, of course, rewrites and additions, and then a table of contents,

an index, and footnotes—this last the greatest hurdle of all. The final copy is a testament to her perseverance and skill. 

I also want to recognize Marie Doherty and the members of the Media Services Department in the

Draper Laboratory for their assistance with three key illustrations. 

This opus could not have been published without the full support of NASA’s History Division, and in

particular Steve Garber, with whom I’d worked previously on my book Aiming at Targets (NASA SP-4106,

1996). Now, as in the past, his professionalism, his calm demeanor, and his can-do attitude made this publication become a reality. 

Special thanks also go to Nadine Andreassen, Steven Dick, Giny Cheong, Annette Lin, and Mike

Peacock of the History Division for all their help.

Dr. Asif Siddiqi, an expert in Russian space history, also contributed a great deal by reviewing the manuscript. Thanks also to the various peer reviewers who provided much useful feedback.

Special thanks also go to the fine professionals in the NASA Headquarters Printing and Design office.

Lisa Jirousek carefully edited the manuscript, Tatiana Floyd laid it out, Jeffrey McLean and Henry Spencer

handled the printing, and Steve Johnson and Gregory Treese oversaw the whole effort. My hat is off to all

of these people for their expert contributions.

Acknowledgments

Robert C. Seamans, Jr., has written a uniquely comprehensive report of the Apollo Manned Lunar

Landing Program. It goes well beyond the normal reporting that we have seen of the events leading

to and results achieved in that major national space program. Bob Seamans has relied on his very personal involvement, responsibility, and experience during his long tenure in the top leadership of the National

Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), first as an Associate Administrator and then as the Agency’s

Deputy Administrator, from less than two years after NASA was formed until January 1968, to present a

detailed timeline of the key elements of NASA’s extensive analyses, decisions, activities, capabilities, and

responsibilities that led to the creation of the program and its outstanding success. In fact, this manuscript

presents the most detailed and specific assembly of personal and archival records to identify the comments,

events, meetings, decisions, and actions taken in the initiation and conduct of the program. This detailed

report demonstrates NASA’s broad capabilities and, despite his unassuming presentation, also shows Bob

Seamans’s strong contributions. Both of those demonstrated characteristics have always been clear to all of

us who worked in NASA.

The report reviews the major Mercury and then Gemini precursors for the Apollo mission program and

its development and mission sequence. But, very importantly, it describes the major and often complex deliberations that encouraged inputs from the broad range of informed internal Agency individuals in order to

arrive at the resulting actions taken; it recognizes differences among their various views, including even sensitivities within the leadership of the Agency, and it acknowledges NASA’s relationships with the President

and key executive branch personnel, as well as the very important and often complex relationships with

members of Congress. The process of writing this book was searching and comprehensive. The achievement

of the world’s first manned lunar landings, after the earlier Mercury and Gemini programs played catch-up

to match the Soviet Union’s advanced position, clearly established the United States’ preeminence in space.

Early in the book, Bob describes an extended meeting in the White House in which the President’s views and

those of Mr. Webb were seriously discussed. Bob tells how, through Apollo’s lunar landing, NASA clearly

met both President Kennedy’s goal to overcome the Soviets’ leadership image and James Webb’s goal to use

Apollo as a major part of his program to demonstrate U.S. technological preeminence.

FOREWORD ix

Foreword
Apparent throughout this report is the outstanding competence and capability of the NASA organization in its Centers and Headquarters. The Agency’s leadership was clearly committed to providing the budget and other requirements to achieve the clearly defined program goals. The major progress in establishing

the mission flight system elements and facility infrastructure was started under NASA’s first Administrator,

Keith Glennan, well before the Apollo mission was defined. This report shows the major new capabilities that

were required in this still-new organization to achieve this objective—operational Field Centers; entirely new

facility capabilities; the technology development and equipment base; the organizational strengths, including

the integrated management systems; and overall in-house competence in all of the necessary areas even while

the Agency relied heavily on significant outside contractor and university capabilities to implement many of

the required functions. Ultimate responsibility always remained within the NASA organization. The lunar

landing was an outstanding achievement that met all its goals.

A clear requirement in achieving this success was establishing the fully integrated management structure

and leadership for the various elements of the program. That task obviously received major attention from

NASA’s top leadership, with strong emphasis on management clearly enunciated by Administrator James

Webb. His focus on management was always very clear to me, especially when he said to me, “How do I

make a technical man like you understand the importance of management?” He then made me a special

advisory Assistant to the Administrator while I was still serving in my technical program roles. In this new

position, I analyzed the need for changes in procedures and functional alignments in Headquarters. I was

then appointed the Associate Administrator for Organization and Management, combining the various

Agency management functions, as Bob Seamans describes. But, well before that, with the initiation of the

Apollo program, there was the need to integrate the activities of the Centers and bring strong in-house

NASA people together into the newly established Office of Manned Space Flight. The need to identify a

strong leader was urgent. During extensive consideration by Webb, Hugh Dryden, and Seamans of various

possible candidates for that position, Bob Seamans suggested and then recruited Brainerd Holmes of RCA

as that leader. When he left, George Mueller was identified by Bob Seamans and was the clear leader of Apollo

through its mission achievement. As the program proceeded and as conditions changed, it is apparent throughout this report that there was a continuing emphasis on management and its changing requirements. 

Clearly indicated throughout this report are the very important free and open discussions and objective

analysis of perceived issues, concerns, and alternative approaches, including various mission concepts,

among all of the competent technical and management members of the internal staff, even if those discussions might indicate differences of opinion regarding planned approaches. This interchange was certainly

strongly encouraged and pursued by Bob Seamans. The most dramatic example of that open view and the

examination of alternative approaches and suggestions was the result of Bob Seamans’s actions in responding

to the persistent recommendations from John Houbolt that a lunar orbit rendezvous approach was superior to

the then-preferred direct lunar landing flight plans even after extensive analyses had led to that preference.

Bob’s willingness to consider recommendations that clashed with previously approved plans led to further

examination and decision in favor of what became John’s very successful lunar orbit approach for the mission. This process succeeded in spite of the repeated pessimism of President Kennedy’s Science Advisor about

the concept and even his pessimism about the lunar landing mission more generally.

Yes, there were tragic and painful events during this period of great progress, and these are also

described in Bob’s report. Certainly, the assassination of President Kennedy on 22 November 1963, only six

days after he had visited the launch facilities and walked around the Saturn I launch vehicle, was devastating to the entire United States, including all of us who had been involved in fulfilling his commitment to

spaceflight goals. Bob Seamans’s discussion of that terrible event and of his meeting and correspondence

with Jacqueline Kennedy shortly after the funeral service depicts one of the warmest, most emotional situations imaginable. That period will never be forgotten. In addition, Bob reports comprehensively on the

Apollo fire during ground testing in January 1967 in which Gus Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chaffee

were killed. It was a shocking and demoralizing hit to all of us in the space program and to the nation at large.

President Johnson’s decision to allow NASA to investigate the accident internally led to a quick, thorough, very

solid report that produced the explanation for the accident and identified ready solutions in its operations. Bob

Seamans reviews that entire situation in depth, but the recollection of that terrible event is still painful.

x PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
xi

All of this very detailed information, upbeat as well as terrible, is conveyed by Bob Seamans in his factual presentation of the sequence of major activities involved and is amplified by his personal and professional anecdotes. This is truly a unique and important record of the Apollo program’s achievements and the

United States’ demonstrated capability and technological preeminence. I hope this capability will be

advanced broadly as we move forward with innovative and beneficial aeronautics, space exploration, space

science, and applications activities. This book adds substantially to our knowledge base about the Apollo

program’s conduct and accomplishments and provides a firm path for further progress.

As one who worked closely with Robert C. Seamans during those challenging years, even though I was not

directly responsible for any Apollo activities, I must add that I benefited and learned greatly from that association. And I have especially appreciated the warm friendship that developed then and has continued since.

—Harold B. Finger, NASA Associate Administrator, Office of Organization and Management, 1967–69

FOREWORD

T

his monograph presents the history of the

manned space program during the time I was

the general manager, from 1 September 1960

to 5 January 1968. I’ve outlined chronologically

and in detail the steps taken from the early Mercury

days, through the operational tests conducted with

Gemini, to the qualification of Apollo, all against a

backdrop of Soviet missions. A chapter on NASA

management during my tenure follows. Then, in the

final two chapters, the U.S. manned circumlunar

and lunar landing missions are compared with

Soviet attempts. I’ve also included a few thoughts

on President Bush’s Vision for Space Exploration.

Throughout, I have tried to describe the key technical, operational, and management milestones and

how key issues in each phase of the space program

were resolved. 

There was a subtler area that I had to face,

namely, NASA’s relationship with the executive

branch, Congress, and the public at large.

Appointed officials must always remember that the

President won his position through a national election; his appointees must support his decisions. The

only alternative is resignation. Under questioning

before Congress, the President’s policies, programs,

and budgets must be defined and their rationale

explained. However, if an appointee is asked

whether an item in the President’s program was

requested at that budget level by an agency such as

NASA, it is fair to answer in the negative, which

might result in larger dollar amounts for the agency

for that item. However, there isn’t much slack, and

it only occurs during congressional hearings. The

executive branch looks askance at any suspicion of

an appointee’s volunteering one’s own views, and

my testimony at times bordered on insubordination.

The most sensitive hearing occurred before a

House committee on 14 April 1961, just after

Gagarin’s flight. A transcript of the exchange

appears later in the chapter. It took place with

INTRODUCTION 1

Chapter 1:

INTRODUCTION
Congressman David King and was about a possible

lunar landing by the Union of Soviet Socialist

Republics (USSR) in 1967 and our capability to compete. This matter was under consideration throughout the government at that time, and my job was to

stay in the background, not get out in front. The

President had to be allowed time to do his fact finding and make his policy decisions unencumbered by

the testimony of junior officials. I was skirting close

to the margin. 

At NASA, our role was to carry out the

President’s agenda for a manned lunar landing

within the decade. However, this agenda was questioned in a rapid-fire discourse with the President in

November 1962. When asked by the President

whether NASA’s top priority was the lunar landing,

Jim Webb (then NASA’s Administrator) answered

no, and when questioned further, Webb said that

NASA’s prime objective was preeminence in space

(see chapter 3). This dichotomy of views lurked in

the background throughout the decade. In the

crunch, both Kennedy and Johnson were squeezing

the national budgets in order to fund NASA’s principal objective, the lunar landing. At its peak, the

Apollo Program accounted for 32 percent of the

federal research and development (R&D) budget.1

Despite his assertion, Jim Webb actually fully supported the lunar goal and used that goal to circumvent major budget revisions by Congress. On many

occasions, he would staunchly tell congressional

committees that if the budget were reduced by even

a small amount, the option for a lunar landing

within the decade would be lost. 

Success or failure was more difficult for NASA

to obfuscate than for most agencies of government.

Press coverage was always present at the launch

pad, particularly for manned missions. In the early

days, liftoff was a matter of probability, at times

followed by a major explosion and the destruction

of both the vehicle and the pad. Mercury-Redstone

once had an electronic liftoff. The capsule and

booster went through the entire 15-minute mission

firing its escape rocket and executing several

pyrotechnic maneuvers. In the end, the parachute

dropped around the rocket’s carcass while it was

still upright on the pad. Photographs of the

sequence were both hilarious and damaging to

NASA’s image and morale. That was a failure clear

to behold. NASA required some manner of measuring performance and progress that didn’t rely

entirely on what the eye could perceive. Ultimately,

the project teams agreed that success was not just

the opposite of calamity, but rather the achievement

of all stated objectives. The general manager

became the arbiter. In the early sixties, the success

level was around 55 percent for all manned and

unmanned missions. By the mid-sixties, the success

level rose to 80 percent.2

NASA often had to deal with failure. In some

cases, most objectives were achieved and there was

little flack within the administration, on Capitol

Hill, or from the media. However, the Apollo fire in

January 1967 caused a major eruption, and rightly

so. The President had to decide whether to establish

a presidential commission or to allow NASA to

investigate itself. If the investigation was in-house,

there would be suspicions of a cover-up; however, a

commission takes longer to establish and get up to

speed. Usually, a commission has sessions that are

open to the public and the press. Presidential commissions often deliberate for over a year. President

Johnson took the heat and allowed NASA to conduct its own accident review. Slightly over two

months’ time was required, and the findings and

recommendations were precise and hard-hitting. 

While the investigation was in play, the accident review board was cloistered with its major

effort at Cape Canaveral. There were no press

releases from the board with conjecture, which is

often proven incorrect. But the President, Congress,

and the media required an impartial and continuing

assessment of the board’s progress. My job involved

periodic visits to the Cape to listen to the board’s

deliberation, to probe a bit, and to review the data.

On the return flight to Washington, I compared

notes with my assistant, Dave Williamson, and prepared a report for Mr. Webb. If acceptable to him,

the report would be relayed in sequence to the

2 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

1. Frederick C. Durant III, Between Sputnik and the Shuttle, New Perspectives on American Astronautics (San Diego, CA: American

Astronautical Society, 1981), p. 165.

2. NASA illustration, Space Flight Record (15 March 1966) NASA image number AD66-845.
President, Congress, and the press. My first report

was printed in its entirety by the New York Times,

but the media weren’t happy campers. 

In the detailed discussion of the accident in

chapter 4, I note that Mr. Webb and I disagreed on

how much information should be forthcoming at

congressional hearings. He felt that there were reasons for secrecy, partly because of our understanding with the President, partly to protect the accident

review board, and partly to avoid legal and potential lawsuits. I couldn’t disagree, but I thought he

was zealous in the extreme. This sensitive matter

was an unsettling undercurrent when testifying

before Congress. Even more troublesome were

background meetings with the press; they didn’t

always remain off the record. On one occasion,

Julian Scheer, who was in charge of NASA’s public

affairs, asked me to join him for a luncheon with a

few well-known reporters. I knew them and agreed.

I was asked why the hatch wasn’t immediately

opened and the astronauts saved. The answer was

straightforward: the hatch opened inward, and with

the pressure rise in the capsule, there was a 4-ton

force holding it shut. Several days later, stories

appeared in the press citing a “high-ranking NASA

official.” According to the press, the astronauts

could be seen attempting to claw their way to safety

and being unable to escape because of a bad design.

NASA had attempted to provide useful background; the press had not followed the rules; and I

was left to hang, turning slowly in the wind. As you

can imagine, this further exacerbated my relations

with Jim Webb. I realized that Jim was right about

keeping things confidential. It wasn’t until my experience as Administrator of the Energy Research and

Development Agency that I fully appreciated Jim’s

leadership at NASA. 

INTRODUCTION 3

NASA was nearly two years old when I

became Associate Administrator and general manager. Under the leadership of

Administrator T. Keith Glennan and his deputy,

Hugh Dryden, much had been accomplished since

the Agency’s establishment in 1958. The former

National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

(NACA) had been welded together with the Jet

Propulsion Laboratory of the California Institute

of Technology, the Army Redstone Arsenal

research and development team under Wernher

von Braun, and parts of the Naval Research

Laboratory. A more complete discussion of NASA’s

Centers is included in chapter 5. 

NASA programs were providing interesting

and useful results with a research and development

Chapter 2: 

EISENHOWER’S LEGACY

budget that had grown in three years from $300

million to nearly $1 billion. The Echo balloon

could be seen overhead on clear nights, and the

Television Infrared Observation Satellite (TIROS)

was in orbit, providing useful information for the

Weather Bureau. 

Seven astronauts had been recruited and

trained, and they were prepared to orbit Earth.

Technicians and engineers were at Cape Canaveral

preparing the Mercury capsule, the Redstone and

Atlas boosters, and the launch facilities for 90-

minute flights around the world. The capsule could

weigh no more than 4,400 pounds with either of

the two boosters, and only one, the Atlas, had the

power necessary for a complete orbit.1 Plans had

been discussed at an industry conference in August

EISENHOWER’S LEGACY 5

1. Wernher von Braun and Frederick J. Ordway, History of Rocketry and Space Travel (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company,

1975), p. 212.
for an Apollo Program to include manned circumlunar flights. 

During the fall, the final Eisenhower budget

was in preparation. NASA’s budget request to the

Bureau of the Budget (BoB)—now the Office of

Management and Budget, or OMB—was a little

over $1.4 billion. This figure had been whittled to

$1.109 billion by Maurice Stans, head of the BoB,

and his team.2 Keith elected to try one more time

for an increase, and he took me along. He first

asked for an Administrator’s discretionary fund of

$50 million. Maury didn’t give Keith time to

explain. He just said, “You’ve got to be kidding.

What else have you in mind?” Keith then discussed

the need for a $10-million line item for an experimental communication satellite, despite the fact

that NASA already had the Echo balloon in orbit

for communications. The balloon served as a giant

100-foot-diameter reflector in space. Maury wasn’t

impressed. He said that was up to the communications industry. Keith explained that industry had no

means for orbiting satellites. Maury responded that

NASA could include $10 million in its budget as a

reimbursable item. NASA could place the communication industry’s satellites in orbit on a payback

basis. And that’s where the discussion ended. 

Labor Complications at Cape

Canaveral, November–December

1960

In early November, I received a frantic call from

Marshall Space Flight Center (MSFC) Director

Wernher von Braun. There was a potentially serious

labor problem at Cape Canaveral. Complex 37 was

under construction for the Saturn I then in development at Huntsville. However, the interface between

the complex and the Saturn I team had to remain

flexible, so there wasn’t time to send the final 5 

to 10 percent of the construction out for sealed bids

by contractors with unionized labor. The two

unions involved were the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, IBEW, and the United

Association of Plumbers and Journeymen. I called

the presidents of both unions and asked if Wernher

and I could meet with them together to discuss construction at Cape Canaveral. It was agreed, and on

a sunny mid-November day, we headed to IBEW

headquarters. The reception area and boardroom

would have done justice to corporate America—

thick carpet, large conference table, and comfortable leather chairs. After my brief introduction,

Wernher gave a careful, logical, and somewhat

impassioned talk about the importance of a tight

schedule for the development of large boosters in

the United States. He used a few graphics to explain

why government personnel were required to finish

off the construction of the launch facilities, 90 to 95

percent of which would have been completed by

unionized firms. They seemed to understand but

said that they were a democratic organization and

they would appreciate our talking to the locals in

Florida. Several days later, we were in a union hall,

talking to the locals. As before, I went first. Early

on, Wernher said, “NASA wouldn’t be able to

honor its commitment to the President if . . . .” At

that point, he was cut off by a local voice yelling,

“What president?” Wernher replied, “President

Eisenhower.” The response was an emphatic

“Thank God we’re rid of that son of a bitch.” The

meeting ended with my saying that we would proceed with government employees and hope we’d

have the unions’ support. 

We had government employees work on the construction; the union struck; and on Thanksgiving

afternoon, I was being called on the carpet at Keith

Glennan’s apartment. Secretary of Labor James P.

Mitchell had called Keith and wanted to know why

NASA was trying to spoil Eisenhower’s labor record

his last few months in office. We agreed to mediation, ate crow, and agreed to hire a labor counselor

at NASA Headquarters to keep us from future

labor errors. However, government workers did

complete the construction of the Saturn I launch

complex, the one that President Kennedy would

later visit during his last week in office. 

Eisenhower and Lunar Exploration

After Kennedy’s election, President Eisenhower

held a cabinet meeting on 20 December, and space

exploration was on the docket. Keith went first and

discussed the NASA fiscal year (FY) 1962 budget

submission to Congress. Little discussion followed.

6 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

2. Jane Van Nimmen and Leonard C. Bruno, with Robert L. Rosholt, Table 4.11, “Funding NASA’s Program FY 1962,” in NASA

Historical Data Book, Volume I: NASA Resources 1958–1968 (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4012, 1988), p. 138. 
Then Dr. Kistiakowski, the President’s science advisor, followed with a presentation of his committee’s

study on making a manned lunar landing. All were

attentive. When he said it was difficult to determine

costs, heads nodded. But he went on to say that estimates ranged from $26 to $38 billion. The room

was filled with sighs, and someone volunteered, “If

we let scientists explore the Moon, then before you

know it they’ll want funds to explore the planets.”

Everybody laughed. Eisenhower ended this part of

his meeting with a rhetorical question: “Can anybody tell me what is the best space program for $1

billion?” Walking from the cabinet room, I realized

why Maury Stans was adamant that there would be

no additions to NASA’s budget in FY 1962. 

Space Exploration Council

On 5 January 1961, the Space Exploration

Council held a full-day session to discuss a program

for manned lunar landing. George Low, Program

Chief for Manned Space Flight, introduced the subject by outlining the guidelines of the program. His

stated objective was a lunar landing and safe return

at the earliest practical date, regardless of cost. The

establishment of a lunar base was the secondary

goal. In his view, consideration should be given to

using a number of Saturn launch vehicles with rendezvous in Earth orbit, as well as to a direct

approach with a single Nova-type vehicle (a vehicle

capable of both a manned lunar landing and a safe

return). He recommended holding the schedule for

the Saturn I unchanged but changing the Saturn II’s

first flight from July 1965 to April 1964. In his

study he assumed a spacecraft weight of 8,000

pounds.3

Following Low’s presentation, Wernher von

Braun outlined Marshall Space Flight Center’s

plans, which were based on more modest funding.

He stated that the lunar program should do the following things:

• Use building blocks from the present

spaceflight program

• Possess flexibility in case of technical

mishaps or breakthroughs

• Be adaptable for rapid expansion if the need

arises

• Fit into the time and economy framework

of the nation

• Be attractive to the general public and the

military4 

Then Max Faget, representing the Space Task

Group (which became the Manned Spacecraft

Center in Houston), stated Apollo’s objectives: 

• On-board capability to maneuver in deep

space

• Ability to perform rendezvous missions

• Capability for outer space (hyperbolic)

reentry with landing at a predetermined

location 

• Ability to terminate at any time with safe

crew return.5

The presentations were not coordinated prior

to the meeting. There were a wide variety of schedules presented, and the conference room was awash

with billion-dollar estimates. There was certainty

on one issue: NASA’s leadership had taken a giant

intellectual step since the industry conference of

July 1961. Then, NASA’s planning goal for the

decade, based on the earlier Goett Study (chaired by

Harry Goett, Director of Goddard Space Flight

Center), was circumlunar flight. The Goett

Committee felt that there would be too many imponderables in a manned lunar landing to warrant 

further investigation in the near term. However, now

there was clear consensus that NASA should proceed

with the lunar landing planning and that George

Low should be its chief honcho. Before the meeting

ended, Keith Glennan warned that Eisenhower 

hadn’t approved the mission. His admonishment

was certainly an understatement. But for Keith,

EISENHOWER’S LEGACY 7

3. George M. Low, presentation to Space Exploration Council, 15 January 1961, in A Program for Manned Lunar Landing, folder

7020, NASA Space Exploration Program Council (SEPC), NASA Headquarters Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC. 

4. George C. Marshall Space Flight Center, presentation to the NASA Space Exploration Council, 5 January 1961, in Lunar

Transportation Systems, folder 7020, NASA SEPC, NASA Headquarters Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC.

5. Max Faget, George C. Marshall Space Flight Center, presentation to the NASA Space Exploration Council, undated, folder 7020,

NASA SEPC, NASA Headquarters Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC.
President Eisenhower would have recommended to

Congress that no further manned space mission

should be in the works until Mercury was completed

and evaluated.

The instructions for the manned lunar landing

task group under George Low’s direction were dated

6 January 1961. The principal items requested of the

group follow: 

It is the task of this group to prepare a position paper for use in presenting the NASA

FY62 budget to Congress. The paper should

answer the question “What is NASA’s

Manned Lunar Landing Program?” 

The Program for FY62 is defined in the

budget for FY62 and in our plans for the

conduct of the program utilizing these funds.

The task group must put these individual

pieces together into a complete but tersely

worded statement of the NASA Lunar

Program for FY62. 

Since a single year’s program cannot stand

alone it is obvious that the Congress will be

interested in what we plan to accomplish in

the following years. This information is summarized in the Ten Year Plan. We do not

have enough data to decide at this time

whether we will attempt manned landing by

direct flight or by rendezvous techniques. 

Finally, the paper must answer the question,

“How much is it going to cost to land a man

on the moon and how long is it going to

take?” We must answer this question for

both the rendezvous and the direct

approach.6

Abe Silverstein, Director of the Office of Space

Flight Programs, and I attended the first meeting of

the Lunar Landing group on 9 January. Questions

arose and were clarified. A summary of those is listed

below:

• We must not assume that a decision has

been made to land a man on the moon.

• However, development of the scientific

and technical capability for manned lunar

landing is a prime NASA goal but it is not

the only goal. 

• In paragraph 5 of the January 6 instructions it is not intended that we develop

specific dates and costs. This is not possible at this time. The position paper must

spell out what our answer should be to the

question. 

• We must present a positive rendezvous

program. This program will be pursued in

order to develop a manned spacecraft

capability in near space, regardless of

whether it is needed for manned lunar

landing. 

• Our approach should be positive. We

should state that we are doing the things

that must be done to determine whether

manned lunar landing is possible.7

Keith Glennan’s Last Day

Jack Kennedy’s inauguration was on 20

January; since Keith Glennan would be leaving

NASA as Eisenhower left office, he had to wrap up

his affairs at NASA on the 19th. He had a busy day

and put the capstone on much unfinished business.

One such item was Ranger, along with Surveyor;

both were handled by the Jet Propulsion

Laboratory, NASA’s Center for unmanned lunar

and planetary missions. Ranger, a lunar photographic probe, was already under development.

Photographs were to be transmitted from Ranger as

it approached and crashed on the lunar surface.

Surveyor’s role was quite the opposite; it was to

land softly on the Moon and analyze surface conditions after impact. By 19 January, the source evaluations were ready for the Administrator’s presentation. Keith gamely held off his return to Cleveland

for the source selection. Hughes Aircraft won the

Surveyor contract. The data from Surveyor would

be crucial to the design of the manned Lunar

Lander. During the day, Keith also documented

8 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

6. George Low, “Instructions to Manned Lunar Landing Task Group,” 6 January 1961, folder 7020, NASA SEPC, NASA

Headquarters Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC.

7. George Low, “Further Instructions to the Manned Lunar Landing Task Group,” 9 January 1961, folder 7020, NASA SEPC, NASA

Headquarters Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC.
those projects he had authorized.8 In each case, he

listed limitations, requirements, and understandings

relating to technical parameters experiments and

management, as well as magnitude and type of

resource allocation. Among the projects were 16

scientific satellites and probes, 2 meteorological

satellites, 3 nonactive communication satellites, 

7 lunar and planetary missions, 2 manned spacecraft,

4 launch vehicle developments, 2 rocket engine

developments, and 5 nuclear projects for power or

propulsion. The two rocket engines were the F-1,

which was kerosene-fueled with a thrust of 1.5 million pounds, and the J-2, hydrogen-fueled with a

thrust of 200,000 pounds. These engines were central to the success of the Saturn vehicles. Of course,

the great success of Mercury in the Kennedy years

was due to the planning and product development in

Eisenhower’s administration. In two and a half years,

NASA was up and away with a space program that

provided a solid foundation for the years to come. 

Keith was due for a good change of pace, but it

wouldn’t start for at least 24 hours. After a glass of

sherry to toast his performance, Keith left for his

apartment and then the drive home to Ohio.

Unfortunately, there was a blizzard of major proportions. Keith reached his apartment, gathered up

his remaining luggage, and started driving. After

struggling for a few hours and gaining only a few

miles, he headed to a friend’s house for emergency

lodging. He then returned home to family, friends,

and his beloved Case Institute the following day. 

The Wiesner Ad Hoc Committee

on Missiles and Space

During the interval between Kennedy’s election

and his inauguration, a sword of Damocles hung

over NASA. Jerry Wiesner chaired the incoming

administration’s committee on missiles and space.

Alarming rumors, which we thought were probably

inaccurate, kept appearing in journals and newspapers. Such ideas as a merger of NASA and the 

military or a transfer of manned spaceflight to the

military, along with hints about the incompetence

of NASA leadership, were quite unnerving. The

actual report by the ad hoc Committee on Space,

dated 10 January 1961 (appearing 10 days before

the inauguration) was fairly reasonable, although I

bristled a bit at the time.

The report noted, quite rightly, that space

exploration had captured the imagination of the

peoples of the world. It was important to maintain

American preeminence in space—the prestige of the

United States was on the line. The report again correctly pointed out that the inability of U.S. rockets

to lift large payloads into space seriously limited

our program. But then, in the section on Man-inSpace, the report stated that by placing a high priority on the Mercury Project, we had strengthened

the popular view of its importance as compared

with the “acquisition of knowledge and the enrichment of human life.”9 It’s true that the public

became more excited by the selection of our astronauts than by Dr. Van Allen’s discovery of the radiation belts around Earth, but that was caused more

by the human interest than by the contents of

NASA’s public releases. 

The report then expressed great concern about

the possible failure of Mercury and the resulting

possible loss of life. The new administration would

have to take the blame for the death of an astronaut. The report went on to say that the Man-inSpace program appeared unsound and that the new

administration should be prepared to modify it

drastically or cancel it. Above all, it recommended

that Mercury be downgraded and project advertising stopped.

The report went on to say that the difficulties

and delays endured by the program had resulted

from insufficient planning and direction caused by

a lack of “a strong scientific personality in the top

echelons.”10 Not only had this lack affected NASA’s

operations, but there were also far too few outstanding scientists and engineers deeply committed

to the space field in general. Strengthening NASA’s

EISENHOWER’S LEGACY 9

8. T. Keith Glennan, “Authorized Development Projects,” 19 January 1961 memorandum, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC

247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

9. Wiesner Committee, “Report to the President-Elect of the Ad Hoc Committee on Space,” 10 January 1961, reprinted in Exploring

the Unknown: Selected Documents in the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program Volume I: Organizing for Exploration, ed. John

M. Logsdon, Linda J. Lear, Jannelle Warren-Findley, Ray A. Williamson, and Dwayne A. Day (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4407,

1995), p. 422.

10. Ibid., p. 421.
top management would encourage more talented

personnel to participate. 

However, in the same report, there was the

already-mentioned acknowledgment that the United

States was operating at a disadvantage because our

boosters had limited capability compared to those of

the Soviets. The Saturn booster was endorsed, along

with the Centaur rocket and the F-1 engine—all part

of Glennan’s legacy. The report had another strong

plug for the past scientific: “In the three years since

space exploration began, experiments with satellites

and deep space probes have provided a wealth of

new scientific results of great significance. In spite of

the limitations in our capability of lifting heavy payloads, we now hold a position of leadership in space 

science.”11 Not too bad for a bunch of dimwits! 

Finally, the report laid out application possibilities for communication, meteorology, and further 

scientific investigation in keeping with NASA’s existing plans. It stressed the need for wider participation

by university and industrial scientists. So NASA’s

number-one issue in the Kennedy administration was

going to be “where goeth man in space?”12 

During this period of anxiety, there was much

excitement as the inaugural activities went into high

gear. A blizzard made it difficult to get to evening

events the night before. Our daughter was undaunted, walking out the front door of our house in an

evening gown with appropriate slippers and no

overshoes. We arrived late at Constitution Hall for

the concert, minutes after the President-elect’s

departure. My parents arrived at 4:00 a.m. By

chance, they were on a plane from Boston with

Cardinal Cushing, who was officiating at the

swearing in and whose entourage included 45 nuns.

When landing in Washington became impossible,

they were diverted to New York and took a train to

Washington. The day itself was sunny and cold, and

an exuberant crowd was full of confidence in the

new leadership.

10 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

11. Ibid., p. 420.

12. Ibid., p. 420.
Ham Gets a Sporty Ride

E

leven days after the inauguration, Ham, a

chimpanzee, was strapped down in Mercury

Redstone (MR-2), ready for liftoff. The first

launch of Mercury had occurred on the 19th of the

previous December. The mission was unmanned

and used a Redstone launch vehicle and a boilerplate capsule. The results were sufficiently successful for a chimpanzee but not a human to board

MR-2. Six chimpanzees were at the Cape, accompanied by 20 medical specialists and animal handlers from Holloman Air Force Base. At liftoff,

Ham was pronounced stable, working his levers

perfectly to avoid the punishment that came from

inattention. At waist level, there was a dashboard

with two lights and two levers. Ham knew well

how to stay comfortable by avoiding the electrical

shocks that followed errors. Each operation of his

Chapter 3:

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE

right-hand lever, cued by a white light, postponed a

shock for 15 seconds. At the same time, Ham had

to press a left-hand lever within 5 seconds of the

flashing of a blue light every 2 minutes. During the

flight, Ham achieved a perfect score with his left

hand and made only two mistakes out of 50

prompts with his right. He did receive two mild

shocks for his mistakes, but he also received banana

pellets for his left-handed performances. The cockpit photos showed a surprising amount of dust and

debris during weightlessness. 

The Redstone Launch vehicle accelerated the

capsule to too high a velocity at cutoff (5,857 miles

per hour instead of 4,400 mph), so Ham experienced 14.7 g’s rather than 12 g’s on reentry, and he

landed in the Atlantic 132 miles beyond the planned

impact point. Because of leaks in the capsule, the

capsule had 800 pounds of water at pickup.

However, when deposited on the USS Donner, Ham

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 11
12 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

appeared in good condition and readily ate an apple

and half an orange. Could human beings have done

as well?1

A manned lunar landing task group was established on 6 January 1961 as a result of the many

questions that arose at the Exploration Council as

noted in chapter 2. The report by the Manned Lunar

Landing group was submitted to the Associate

Administrator on 7 February 1961. The findings of

this group were remarkably prescient and most

important to NASA in the months that followed.

The group found that no inventions or breakthroughs were believed to be required to ensure safe

manned lunar flight. It went on to say that booster

capability could be acquired either by a number of

Saturn C-2 launches followed by rendezvous and

docking or by Nova, a launch vehicle larger than the

Saturn. The group found that rendezvous techniques

could allow a lunar landing in significantly less time

than the other two options. 

The group’s report stated that Mercury would

have most of the on-board systems required in the

future. They expected that many of the systems for

lunar landing would be outgrowths of this effort.

The need for special guidance and navigation in

lunar approach, orbit, and landing was omitted by

the group members, but they did stress the importance of the F-1, J-2, and RL10 rocket engines for the

development of the Saturn and Nova launch vehicles.

From a biological standpoint, the group recommended that studies be accelerated on the effects of

weightlessness and radiation. It noted that these environmental conditions would become increasingly

important as astronauts extended their time in orbit

and as missions moved farther from Earth and the

protective shielding of Earth’s atmosphere and the

magnetically induced Van Allen radiation belts. 

The Apollo A using the Saturn C-1 would allow

multimanned orbital flights in 1965. The advanced,

long-duration Apollo B launched by the Saturn C-2

would provide the capability for circumlunar and

lunar orbital missions in 1967. 

The group felt that the manned lunar landing

could occur as early as 1968 and as late as 1971.

Whether it would be early or late hinged on the viability of rendezvous operations. Rendezvous operations obviated the need for the super booster called

Nova, which the group estimated would require an

extra one to two years. Hence, the manned lunar

landing was bracketed between 1968 and 1969

when using rendezvous maneuvers, or between

1970 and 1971 if direct ascent with a single launch

vehicle was the chosen mode. The mission, spacecraft, launch vehicle, and dates are shown in figure

1. Fortunately, Nova was not required. 

The cost estimates were low, with $3 billion for

the spacecraft and $4 billion for the launch vehicle

—a total of $7 billion. However, much was omitted,

including the Gemini missions, and the estimated

cost of facilities and operations was considerably

less than what was actually required. Notwithstanding, the report by George Low and his group

was most valuable in the meetings with the President

and Congress that were soon to follow. 

James E. Webb Takes Charge of

NASA

James E. Webb was nominated as the

Administrator of NASA in early February 1961,

and needless to say, I was most anxious for a meeting in order to find out whether I would soon be

departing. At our first discussion, he emphasized

leadership and asked my views on the effectiveness

of Sears Roebuck’s dispersed management versus

Montgomery Ward’s hierarchical organization.

Fortunately, it was a subject I’d studied at Columbia’s

advanced management program the previous summer, so I felt pretty comfortable in my exchange of

ideas. Jim asked both Hugh Dryden and me to

remain at NASA, and over time, we became known

as the Triad—each of us had different skills and

responsibilities, but we convened (figure 2) to make

key decisions that were usually unanimous.

Jim was sworn in on 12 February 1961, and,

soon thereafter, a meeting was arranged with the

new Director for the Bureau of the Budget, Dave

Bell. The previous administration had reduced our

budget by $300 million, so we decided to request an

additional $190 million for manned-flight-related

projects and $10 million for communication satel1. Loyd S. Swenson, Jr., James M. Grimwood, and Charles C. Alexander, This New Ocean: A History of Project Mercury

(Washington, DC: NASA History Series, 1989), p. 310.
THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 13

Figure 1. Results of a study commissioned on 6 January 1961 and chaired by George Low. These findings were available on 7 February 1961.

lites. Dave Bell told us that the President was most

interested in space exploration and planned to get

his mind around the issues in connection with the

next fiscal year’s budget, that of FY 1963. Mr.

Webb demurred, saying that the issues couldn’t

wait, and so a session took place with the President,

the Vice President, their staff, and the Director of

BoB on 22 March.

First Meeting with President

Kennedy

As was the custom, the Director of BoB started

the meeting by advising the President that additional funding should await the review of the following year’s requirements. Mr. Webb then said

that I would present NASA’s request. The President

asked how long it would take; when Jim responded

that it would be 30 minutes, the President said that

he had only 15. The phone then rang, and the

President had an extended conversation with the

Speaker of the House. Ultimately, I had an opportunity to summarize our recommendations. The

President looked at me and said, “That was very

good; I would like your views in writing tomorrow.” I wrote the memo that evening, hand-delivered it to Jim Webb the following morning, and

then joined my family in Mt. Tremblant, Canada,

for a weekend of skiing. The memo was forwarded

by Jim Webb and contained these requests:

The funding rates of five projects were discussed at the NASA-BoB conference with the

Vice President and the President on March

22, 1961. An agenda prepared prior to the

meeting summarized the objectives of these

projects and indicated in each case the effect

of the funding rate on the schedule. The multimanned orbital laboratory is contingent upon

the Saturn C-1 which is adequately funded,

and a new spacecraft for which NASA recommends an increase from $29.5 to $77.2

million. This increase starts an accelerated

program leading to multi-manned orbital

flights in 1965 rather than 1967. 

The multi-manned circumlunar flight

requires the Saturn C-2 and a spacecraft

which will evolve from the design of the
14 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 2. NASA Management Triad in the office of James E. Webb (center). He and Dr. Robert C. Seamans, Jr. (right), listen as Dr.

Hugh Dryden (left) has the floor. (NASA Image Number 66-H-93)
THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 15

orbital spacecraft. The recommended $73

million increase in FY 1962 funding for the

Saturn C-2 leads to the completion of the

Saturn development in 1966, and manned

circumlunar flight in 1967 rather than 1969. 

A manned lunar landing requires a new

launch vehicle with capabilities beyond

Saturn. This vehicle, called Nova, is still

under study. It would use a first-stage cluster

of the 1.5 million pound thrust, chemically

fueled engines, which we have under development. We are requesting $10.3 million

additional over the present FY1962 budget

to accelerate the engine development. The

first manned lunar landing depends upon

this chemical engine as well as on the orbital

and circumlunar programs and can be

achieved in 1970 rather than 1973.2

Notice that the dates in this memo were consistent with those in George Low’s working group on

lunar landing. Also included in the request was

Centaur, which, with Atlas as the first stage, would

send unmanned probes to soft-land on the Moon.

The Centaur RL10 liquid-hydrogen engines were

also to be used in the Saturn I upper stage. Of the

total $200 million requested, the President decided

to support communication satellites with $10 million and propulsion projects with $115.7 million,

but the money would not support the multimanned

orbiting laboratory.3

A New Ball Game

Sergei Korolev was the prime mover of the

Soviet space program from its inception until his

death in 1966. Originally an aeronautical engineer,

he was imprisoned in the late 1930s after being

accused of sabotage. Stalin, not noted for his receptivity to challenging ideas, banished Korolev to a

forced labor camp in Siberia, where he languished

until the Soviets were desperate for engineers in

World War II. A special camp was established just

outside Moscow, and Korolev was moved there. He

performed so well that he was eventually released.

At the war’s end, he was sent to Peenemünde to

obtain engineers, technical information, and equipment related to the German V-2 development.

Later, he convinced Chairman Khrushchev to support a few satellite launches using the Soviet ballistic missile program. Sputnik was an instant success

that opened the way for Korolev and his team to

embark on a broad-scale space endeavor. Korolev

struck again on 12 April 1961 (see figure 3), when

Yuri Gagarin orbited Earth and landed safely to

tremendous acclaim in the Soviet Union and around

the world. Our Congress went berserk, and President

2. Robert C. Seamans to James E. Webb, 23 March 1961, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and

Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

3. Table 4.13, “Funding NASA Program in FY1962,” in NASA Historical Data Book, p. 138.

Figure 3. Sergey P. Korolev, founder of the Soviet space program,

shown here in July 1954 with a dog that had just returned to Earth

after a lob to an altitude of 100 kilometers on an R-1d rocket.

(Source: http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2002-

000163.html)
16 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Kennedy was distressed. The following day, Mr.

Webb and Dr. Dryden were called before the House

Authorization Committee on Space and Aeronautics

in the Caucus room. Jim and Hugh were pressed for

bolder action and parried the thrust of the committee members in admirable fashion. The day after, it

was back to the Manned Space Subcommittee for

George Low and myself. The hearing was held in 

the old committee chambers. George began his testimony but was interrupted by Congressman David

King of Utah:

MR. KING: May I make a comment there

and then, and then, if you will, carry on. I

understand the Russians have indicated at

various times that their goal is to get a man on

the Moon and return safely by 1967, the 50th

anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution. Now

specifically I would like to know, yes or no,

are we making that a specific target date to try

to equal or surpass their achievement?

DR. SEAMANS: As I indicated in earlier testimony this morning, our dates are for a circumlunar flight in 1967 and a target date for

the manned lunar landing in 1969 or 1970. 

MR. KING: That of course—then that outlines the issue very squarely. As things are

now programmed we have lost. The score

will be three to nothing for the Russians. I

would like to make it clear for the record

that I personally—and I am not a technical

man, I am speaking just as a Congressman,

trying to do what I can for the country—that

I would favor any such program, regardless

of the cost, that would put us definitely in

the race to reach the Moon first. I think anything short of that will be doing an injustice

to our country. Let me just ask this final

question. Do you think it would be conceivably possible, by increasing appropriations,

by marshaling our manpower and resources

and everything else we have available, to

meet this target date of, let us say, 1967? 

DR. SEAMANS: This is really a very major

undertaking. To compress the program by 3

years means that greatly increased funding

would be required for the interval of time

between now and 1967. I certainly cannot

state that this is an impossible objective. If it

comes down to a matter of national policy, 

I would be the first to review it wholeheartedly and see what it would take to do the

job. My estimate at this moment is that the

goal may very well be achievable. That is the

best answer I can give you at present. 

MR. KING: I think that is a very significant

statement and I am very grateful to get it . . . .4

There followed an exchange with a Republican

member of the committee (J. Edgar Chenoweth of

Colorado) and a final question by the committee’s

chairman, Congressman George Miller (Democrat): 

MR. CHENOWETH: I understood from

your last answer to Mr. King that you

thought it could be done. That impression

will go out. I think you have to be very careful what you tell this committee because

there will be those who will say, “All right,

lets boost up our appropriation, double it,

treble it. The most important thing is to put

a man on the Moon.” I don’t know that it is.

I doubt it. But some feel that way. I think it

is a high policy decision to be made and to be

made shortly. I think it is important you

word your answers carefully here, because

the wrong interpretations may be placed

upon them not only by this committee but by

those who will read stories that will go out. 

DR. SEAMANS: I disagree on one point you

touched upon earlier. I feel this committee is

a most important forum for discussion of

this issue. I believe there are other important

forums. I agree this is a most important

national issue. 

MR. CHENOWETH: The question is whether

it is of such great importance that we can

afford to neglect other programs that perhaps

may involve a change of our whole fiscal program in order to accomplish this one objective.

Is it that important, in your opinion? 

DR. SEAMANS: Obviously I cannot answer

that question. 

4. House Committee on Science and Astronautics and Subcommittees Nos. 1, 3, and 4, Hearings, 87th Cong., 14 April 1961.
THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 17

MR. CHENOWETH: It is a decision to be

made at a higher level. 

DR. SEAMANS: I think it is a decision to be

made by the people of the United States. 

MR. CHENOWETH: How will they make it?

DR. SEAMANS: Through the Congress and

through the President. It is a matter of national

importance to have specific objectives for

our space effort. 

MR. CHENOWETH: I disagree. The people

of this country do not have the technical

knowledge on this subject that you have.

When you talk about placing a man on the

Moon, they don’t know what you are talking

about. They don’t know what expenditure is

involved, nor the scientific and research

work that has to be done. We can’t expect

them to make that decision. 

MR. MILLER: Is this not our responsibility

as the representatives of the people . . . . 5

When the hearing was over, George Low and I

faced a barrage of reporters and a battery of TV

cameras as we left the building. I felt there might be

a concern about my performance and headed

directly to Mr. Webb’s office, where Nina Scrivener,

his secretary, listened thoughtfully to my message:

“Tell Mr. Webb I did the best I could, but the White

House may be quite unhappy.” I knew it was

unwise for an underling to get out ahead of the

President. I found out later that Ken O’Donnell, the

President’s political advisor, wrote a strongly worded

letter to Mr. Webb about my performance, but in

his return letter dated 21 April, Jim supported me.

He noted, “My judgment from the record and my

personal experience with the committee is that our

group, particularly Dr. Seamans has done a splendid job for this administration. Dr. Seamans bore

the brunt of discussions as to our relations with the

Bureau of the Budget and the President. From a

reading of the testimony I believe Seamans has done

an exceptionally fine job.”6 Keith Glennan wasn’t

so kind. He wrote, “I think an unfortunate statement by Bob Seamans before a congressional committee gave the newspapers and through them the

public, the idea that this flight [lunar landing] was

to be accomplished by late 1967.”

A Call to the Vice President 

On 20 April, President Kennedy wrote Vice

President Johnson a memorandum in which he asked:

1. Do we have a chance of beating the

Soviets by putting a laboratory in space,

or by a trip around the moon, or by 

a rocket to land on the moon, or by a

rocket to go to the moon and back with

a man? Is there any other space program

which promises dramatic results in which

we could win? 

2. How much additional would it cost?

3. Are we working 24 hours a day on existing programs? If no, why not? If not, will

you make recommendations to me as to

how work can be speeded up.

4. In building large boosters should we put

our emphasis on nuclear, chemical, or liquid fuel, or a combination of these three?

5. Are we making maximum effort? Are we

achieving necessary results? 

I have asked Jim Webb, Dr. Wiesner, Secretary

McNamara and other responsible officials to cooperate with you fully. I would appreciate a report on

this at the earliest possible moment.7

The Whirlwind Week of 2 May

1961

The week started with reasonable assurance

that in a few days, NASA was going to be tested in

the eyes of the world by Alan Shepard’s Mercury

flight. And then, if that was successful, NASA was

going to embark on a lunar program even before

5. House Committee on Science and Astronautics and Subcommittees Nos. 1, 3, and 4, Hearings, 87th Cong., 14 April 1961.

6. James Webb to Ken O’Donnell, 21 April 1961, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special

Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

7. President John F. Kennedy to Vice President Lyndon Johnson, 20 April 1961, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247,

Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.
18 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

the United States had sent an astronaut to orbit

Earth. If that happened, there would be a clear need

for an in-depth investigation of all the steps that

would have to be taken and of the costs and time

that would be involved. On 2 May, I sent a memorandum to the directors of the four program offices

establishing an ad hoc task group for this study. Bill

Fleming, my program assistant, was to head the

study, and the individuals assigned to the study

were to be on a full-time basis for the duration of

the effort. 

Friday, 5 May 1961, Mercury

Redstone (MR-3), Alan Shepard

Later in the week, all eyes were on Alan

Shepard at Cape Canaveral. Jerry Wiesner, in his

interregnum report, had alerted the Kennedy

administration that if they weren’t careful, they’d

own the Mercury project. The hour of truth had

arrived. Should NASA be allowed to launch the

MR3 with Alan Shepard aboard? The mission had

been carefully and responsibly reviewed by a White

House committee chaired by Donald Hornig. His

committee was favorably impressed with NASA’s

planning and testing. But supposing the launch was

a disaster, especially following Gagarin’s achievement? Ed Welsh, secretary of the Space Council,

joined me on Friday, 5 May, to follow the mission

on an in-house circuit. At that time, there was

small, obscure room in NASA Headquarters, across

from the White House, where the voice of the

Mission Director was piped in. Ed confirmed that

there was much concern about possible failure, but

he had raised the question, what if we succeed?

Anyway, it was now a “go.” Hugh Dryden was at

the Cape as NASA’s senior observer. He had been

close to the Mercury program since inception and

was clearly the person to have on hand in the event

of unexpected contingencies. 

Freedom 7 roared off at 10:34 and started its

climb. The ride was smooth and the voice communication clear for the first 45 seconds. Buffeting

started in the transonic zone and became severe

about 90 seconds into the flight at maximum

dynamic pressure. Alan’s head was bouncing so

hard that he couldn’t read the flight instruments.

The maximum g forces occurred after 2 minutes,

and the engines cut off 22 seconds later. Alan was

traveling 5,134 mph, the desired speed. He had

been traveling face-forward when, at 3 minutes into

the flight, the capsule automatically turned completely around in preparation for reentry. Now it

was time for the most important task, determining

whether a human could control the capsule. He

switched onto manual control one axis at a time.

He first used his right grip backward to tilt his heatshield downward 34 degrees for reentry. Later, he

was pleased to find that he could control the spacecraft’s movement about all three axes—roll, pitch,

and yaw—and the fuel use was similar to what he

had experienced with the Mercury trainer. When

the retrorockets fired at the appropriate time, it

provided what astronauts later described as a

“comforting kick in the ass.”

As Freedom 7 approached the atmosphere, the

0.05-g light came on, and the acceleration rapidly

built up to a peak of 11.6 g’s. As the spacecraft

entered the atmosphere, the drogue chute first

opened at 21,000 feet; the main chute followed at

10,000. The recovery forces were standing by for

pickup. Alan felt that the thud at impact was comparable to that of a carrier landing. After landing,

the chutes were released, with the capsule listing 60

degrees to starboard. The rescue helicopter was

soon overhead, and Alan was taken aboard the carrier Lake Champlain 11 minutes after landing. Ed

Welsh and I did a few war whoops in our cubicle,

shook hands, and gave thanks for all those involved

in the flight’s success. 

Upon examination, doctors found that Alan

had suffered no ill effects, and, as he reported himself, weightlessness was “quite pleasant.” A half

hour into his free-dictation report, Alan was summoned to the bridge deck for a call from President

Kennedy. Kennedy had followed the flight closely via

television and was now offering his congratulations. 

There was mostly worldwide acclaim, but chagrin in Moscow, where Premier Nikita Khrushchev

asked why the “up and down” flight of Shepard

gained such extensive media publicity even though

Gagarin had long since orbited the world.8

8. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, pp. 352–357.
Big Doings at the Pentagon

On Saturday, Hugh Dryden was still at Cape

Canaveral awaiting Alan’s arrival and debriefing.

Jim Webb, Abraham Hyatt (Director of Plans and

Program Evaluation), and I arrived in Bob

McNamara’s office at the Pentagon. Bob had

Roswell Gilpatric, his deputy, and John Rubel, head

of space research and development in the

Department of Defense (DOD), with him. The Vice

President had turned to NASA and DOD to help

answer the President’s request for recommendations

on U.S. space policy and direction. The Vice

President said that NASA and DOD would have

most of the action, so the administration needed

our views on whether there was any space program

that promised dramatic results that we could

achieve before the Soviets. 

McNamara greeted us crisply. Once seated, he

suggested that we lay our cards on the table, and he

asked Jim to go first. As per our plan, Jim first recommended that NASA proceed with a manned

lunar landing mission. It was our view that the

Soviets could conduct a manned orbital laboratory

or a circumlunar mission with means already available. However, McNamara questioned our views

and suggested a planetary trip to Mars. I found his

suggestion horrifying and pointed out that we had

neither the technology nor the physiological understanding to proceed with such a mission. The discussion recognized the previous day’s achievement

by Alan Shepard and noted that the highly favorable

media response resulted from the mission’s being carried out completely in the open. It had become obvious that national prestige should be recognized as

one of four valid reasons for space undertakings. The

other three reasons were scientific investigation,

commercial value, and national security. From this

meeting resulted a report to the Vice President that

recommended a $626-million add-on for FY 1962,

of which $549 million was for NASA.9 The line

items for NASA funding included the following:

• Apollo for multimanned orbital laboratory

• Nova, a large launch vehicle, for manned

lunar landing

• Scientific experiments in space

• Satellite communications

• Meteorological satellites

• Nuclear rocket developments

The major share of the funding recommendation was earmarked for Apollo and Nova. To quote

from the report:

To achieve the goal of landing [a person] on

the moon and returning him to earth in the

latter part of the current decade requires

immediate initiation of an accelerated 

program of spacecraft development. The

program designated Project Apollo includes

initial flights of a multi-manned orbiting laboratory to qualify the spacecraft and manned

flights around the moon before attempting

the difficult lunar landing. 

The advanced goal of manned landing on the

moon also requires the development of a

launch vehicle (Nova) with a first stage

thrust of about six times that of the largest

vehicle now under development (Saturn I)

[Nova was never started; however the Saturn

V had nearly five times the thrust of the

Saturn I under development].10

In addition to the specifics in the report, there

was a general section on the need for close cooperation and coordination between NASA and DOD.

In particular, the report noted the importance of the

manned lunar landing in the context of a total

national effort. 

The future of our efforts in space is going to

depend on much more than this year’s appropriations or tomorrow’s new idea. It is going to depend

in large measure upon the extent to which this

country is able to establish and to direct an integrated national space program. To quote further

from the report:

We recommend that our National Space Plan

include the objective of manned lunar exploTHE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 19

9. Table 4.13, NASA Historical Data Book, p. 138.

10. James E. Webb and Robert McNamara, “Recommndations for Our National Space Program: Changes, Policies, Goals,” report

to Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson, 8 May 1961.
ration before the end of this decade. It is our

belief that manned exploration to the vicinity

of and on the surface of the moon represents

a major area in which international competition for achievement in space will be conducted. The orbiting of machines is not the

same as the orbiting or landing of man. It is

man, not merely machines, in space that capture the imagination of the world . . . .

The establishment of this major objective has

many implications. It will cost a great deal of

money. It will require large efforts for a long

time. It requires parallel and supporting

undertakings which are also costly and complex. Thus for example, the RANGER and

SURVEYOR unmanned probes and the technology associated with them must be undertaken and must succeed to provide the data,

the techniques and the experience without

which manned lunar exploration cannot be

undertaken. 

The Soviets have announced lunar landing as

a major objective of their program. They

may have begun to plan for such an effort

years ago. They may have undertaken important first steps which we have not begun. 

It may be argued, therefore, that we undertake such an objective with several strikes

against us. We cannot avoid announcing not

only our general goals but many of our specific plans, and our successes and failures

along the way. Our cards are and will be face

up—theirs are face down. 

Despite these considerations we recommend

proceeding toward this objective. We are

uncertain of Soviet intentions, plans or status. Their plans, whatever they may be, are

not more certain of success than ours. Just as

we accelerated our ICBM11 program we have

accelerated and are passing the Soviets in

important areas in space technology. If we

set our sights on this difficult objective we

may surpass them here as well. Accepting the

goal gives us a chance. Finally, even if the

Soviets get there first, as they may, and as

some think they will, it is better for us to get

there second than not at all. In any event we

will have mastered the technology. If we fail

to accept this challenge it may be interpreted

as a lack of national vigor and capacity to

respond.12

The DOD had already prepared a draft report

for submission to the Vice President. John Rubel

and I were given the job of editing the report and

bringing it into concert with the Saturday meeting.

We worked together well into the evening, when

Jim Webb arrived after escorting Alan Shepard’s

parents to their hotel. Jim, John, and I completed

the final editing at 2:00 Monday morning. John and

I reviewed the retyped copy and brought it to

McNamara and Webb for signature on Monday

morning, prior to the 9:00 a.m. ceremony at the

White House honoring Alan Shepard.

A Hero’s Welcome

Following receipt of his honors at the White

House (see figure 4), Alan Shepard was sped in a

motorcade to the Capitol, where he addressed a

joint session of Congress. There followed a special

reception and luncheon, hosted by Vice President

Johnson, at the State Department. Near the end of

lunch, the Vice President stood to toast Alan and

his family and then left to meet with the President

before leaving for Vietnam. In his hand was the

envelope containing the McNamara-Webb report

completed earlier that morning. 

A Special Message to Congress

At this juncture in the space program, it is interesting to compare the derivation of the USSR and

U.S. programs. Both derived considerable strength

from the German effort at Peenemünde, the USSR

from Korolev’s hiring of technical personnel and

collectors of data and hardware and the United

States from the capture of Dr. von Braun and his

management team. The von Braun team became the

Army’s Ballistic Missile Agency of the Redstone

Arsenal prior to its transfer to NASA. Other ingredients transferred to NASA were the laboratories of

20 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

11. Intercontinental ballistic missile.

12. Webb and McNamara.
the NACA, the Jet Propulsion Laboratory of the

California Institute of Technology, and the Navy’s

Vanguard team. Figure 5 shows how these diverse

groups had coalesced by 1961. 

Under Korolev, the Soviets had orbited the

satellite Sputnik, a dog, and the cosmonaut Yuri

Gagarin. They had also photographed the far side

of the Moon. The United States had launched

Explorer, a weather satellite, the Echo balloon, and

Alan Shepard into suborbital flight. 

Several days prior to 24 May, when President

Kennedy was to address a joint session of Congress,

Jim Webb received a copy of that part of the speech

related to space. Sure enough, the President was

recommending a manned lunar landing and safe

return, but in 1967. Jim called Ted Sorensen, the

President’s speechwriter, to request a change of

date. The country should operate in the open, he

said, but shouldn’t make such a bold commitment

in terms of time. The compromise with the White

House was “within the decade.” Excerpts from the

President’s speech follow:

Since early in my term, our efforts in space

have been under review. With the advice of

the Vice President, who is Chairman of the

National Space Council, we have examined

where we are strong and where we are not.

Now it is the time to take longer strides—time

for a great new American enterprise—time for

this nation to take a clearly leading role in

space achievement, which in many ways may

hold the key to our future on earth.

Recognizing the head start obtained by the

Soviets with their large rocket engines, which

gives them many months of lead-time, and

recognizing the likelihood that they will

exploit this lead for some time to come in

still more impressive successes, we nevertheless are required to make new efforts on our

own. For while we cannot guarantee that we

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 21

Figure 4. President John F. Kennedy congratulates astronaut Alan B. Shepard, Jr., the first American in space, on his historic 5 May 1961 ride

in the Freedom 7 spacecraft and presents him with the NASA Distinguished Service Award. (NASA Image Number 1961ADM-13, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2000-001659.html)
shall one day be first, we can guarantee that

any failure to make this effort will make us

last. We take an additional risk by making it

in full view of the world, but as shown by the

feat of astronaut Shepard, this very risk

enhances our stature when we are successful.

But this is not merely a race. Space is open to

us now; and our eagerness to share its meaning is not governed by the efforts of others.

We go into space because whatever mankind

must undertake, free men must fully share. 

First, I believe that this nation should commit

itself to achieving the goal, before this decade

is out, of landing a man on the Moon and

returning him safely to earth. No single space

project in this period will be more impressive

to mankind, or more important for the longrange exploration of space, and none will be

so difficult or expensive to accomplish. Now

this is a choice which this country must make,

and I am confident that under the leadership

of the Space Committees of the Congress, and

the Appropriating Committees, that you will

consider the matter carefully. 

It is a most important decision that we make

as a nation. But all of you have lived through

the last four years and have seen the significance of space and the adventures in space,

and no one can predict with certainty what the

ultimate meaning will be of mastery of space. 

I believe we should go to the Moon. But I

think every citizen of this country as well as

the Members of Congress should consider the

matter carefully in making their judgment, to

which we have given attention over many

weeks and months, because it is a heavy burden, and there is no sense in agreeing or

desiring that the United States take an affirmative position in outer space, unless we are

22 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 5. Formation of USSR and U.S. space teams.
prepared to do the work and bear the burden

to make it successful.13

At the time Kennedy was delivering his address

to Congress, Mr. Webb and I were meeting with Joe

Charyk, Under Secretary of the Air Force. NASA

was about to assume a tremendous responsibility,

but the orbiting of John Glenn was still to be

accomplished. And the Air Force was questioning

our use of the Atlas booster. General Bernard

Schriever, who had successfully directed the development of ICBMs, was concerned about whether

the thin-skinned (0.010-inch) Atlas (see figure 6)

could support the Mercury capsule—if it failed,

would our nuclear deterrent remain credible? Of

course, if the Atlas failed or if a decision was made

not to use the Atlas, John Glenn would not achieve

orbit and there would be no U.S. manned flight

until another launch vehicle became available. I

remember attending a detailed briefing on the structural integrity of the Atlas nose section with and

without strengthening. The analysis convinced me

that it was safe to proceed with the mission if a

bellyband was sweated around the nose cone. 

Joe Charyk concurred. Ultimately, four manned

Mercury capsules were successfully launched by the

strengthened launch vehicle. But while we were still

in the throes of Mercury, we had to start facing the

many daunting challenges of President Kennedy’s

new mandate. 

Aiming at the Moon

Now that the President had recommended a

major national effort to land man on the Moon

within the decade, major decisions had to be made

in a short period of time: 

1. How was the mission to be managed?

2. How much of the effort would be performed by NASA? By other government

agencies? By industry? By universities and

other nonprofits?

3. What were the long poles in the tent?

That is, what projects required immediate

attention?

4. How were we to resolve a large number

of technical issues?

One of the keys to the success of this daunting

program was NASA’s internal management. NASA

had four program offices when Keith Glennan 

was Administrator. They were Advanced Research

Technology (headed by Ira Abbott), Life Sciences

(Clark T. Brandt), Launch Vehicle (Don R. Ostrander),

and Space Flight Programs (Abe Silverstein). Each of

the research and flight centers reported to one of these

program directors (see figure 19).

Each program office had its own budgeting and

cost controlling, as well as its own research centers. 

It was decided to shift the entire project and 

program responsibility for NASA to the Associate

Administrator. The shift of personnel from Silverstein

to me followed. For the next seven years, project

approval documents spelling out objectives, costs,

and schedules were issued by this office and signed

by the Associate Administrator (me) for all NASA

activities. A fuller account of NASA management

during this period is given in chapter 5. Second,

much of NASA’s effort required close coordination

with the DOD. A NASA-DOD board had been

established in the Eisenhower administration with

Hugh Dryden and Harold Brown as cochairmen.

The board was called the Aeronautics and

Astronautics Coordinating Board, or AACB. In the

spring of 1961, I became the NASA cochair and

Rubel the DOD one; both of us were closer to dayto-day management issues than our predecessors. 

The most critical decision was the appointment

of the Apollo manager. Discussions were held with

the Air Force regarding Bernard “Bennie” Schriever

and with the Navy regarding Levering Smith, who

directed the Polaris and Poseidon submarinelaunched ballistic missile programs. Levering was

disappointed that he was still a captain. We succeeded

in getting Levering promoted from captain to rear

admiral, but not in acquiring him as a NASA manager. 

While Dr. Dryden was away, Jim Webb and I

had a conversation with Wernher von Braun about

the possibility of his directing the lunar landing program. When Dryden returned, Webb asked me to

try the idea on him for size, and his answer was,

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 23

13. “Special Message to Congress on Urgent National Needs,” 25 May 1961, Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States,

John F. Kennedy, January 20–December 31, 1961 (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1962).
24 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 6. Launch of Friendship 7 on 20 February 1962 for the first American manned orbital spaceflight. John Glenn was on his way

to becoming the first U.S. astronaut to orbit Earth. (NASA Image Number 62PC-0011)
“You and Jim can do what you want, but I’ll retire

if he’s given the job.” I suggested Brainerd Holmes.

I had known him at Radio Corporation of America

(RCA), where he had been in charge of the Ballistic

Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS). It was a

complex, high-technology project with large-scale

construction in Scotland, northern Greenland, and

Fairbanks, Alaska. I had a conversation with

Brainerd’s boss, Art Malcarney, Executive Vice

President for Defense Affairs, and he reluctantly

helped us arrange a meeting with Brainerd at the

Metropolitan Club. Jim Webb and I attended, and

thanks to Webb’s great salesmanship, Brainerd

accepted the position a week later and took the

reins in October.

Extensive Planning

The period between the President’s recommendations to Congress in May 1961 and the arrival of

Brainerd Holmes in October 1961 involved extensive

planning as NASA initiated its greatly expanded program. Three of the efforts were carried out by

Center-Headquarters committees established by the

Associate Administrator; one was a product of

Langley Research Center, and one was conducted

jointly with the Department of Defense. These committees and their studies are listed below:

• “Various Vehicle Systems for the Manned

Lunar Landing Mission,” completed 10

June 1961. A study initiated on 21 May

1961 and chaired by Bruce Lundin. 

• “A Feasible Approach for an Early

Manned Lunar Landing,” completed 16

June 1961. A study initiated on 2 May

1961 and chaired by William Fleming. 

• “Earth Orbital Rendezvous for an Early

Manned Lunar Landing,” completed

August 1961. A study initiated on 20 June

1961 and chaired by Donald Heaton. 

• “Manned Lunar Landing Through Use of

Lunar Orbit Rendezvous,” completed 31

October 1961. A Langley Research Center

report by John Houbolt. 

• “Large Launch Vehicles Including Rendezvous,” completed 24 September 1962. A

joint DOD-NASA study initiated on 23 June

1961 and chaired by Nicholas Golovin

(NASA) and Lawrence Kavanau (DOD). 

During May, June, and July, when the first two

studies (Lundin and Fleming) were under way, there

were three Saturn launch vehicles under consideration. The two-stage Saturn I having eight H-1 engines

in its first stage and six RL-10 engines in its second

stage was of use only for Earth-orbiting payloads.

The advanced Saturn had two configurations:

the C-2, for which NASA had contracted, and the

C-3, a more powerful configuration. Both versions

were in design and had similar first and third stages.

The first stage in each used two F-1 engines, and the

third stage in each was similar to the Saturn I second stage. However, the second stage of the C-2

used two J-2 hydrogen-oxygen engines with a total

thrust of 400,000 pounds. The second stage of the

C-3, with four J-2 engines, had a total thrust of

800,000 pounds.

“Various Vehicle Systems for the Manned

Lunar Landing Mission,” a Study Chaired by

Bruce Lundin, 10 June 1961

The report of this committee first discusses the

use of the launch vehicle, at that time undergoing

design, and the use of rendezvous in both Earth and

lunar orbit. Then there is an outline of the pros and

cons of the following options:

I. Earth rendezvous with Saturn C-2s 

II. Earth rendezvous with Saturn C-3s

III. Lunar rendezvous with Saturn C-3s

The report states in conclusion that the committee strongly recommends the second alternative.

Excerpts from the report follow:

In response to the request of the Associate

Administrator on May 25, 1961, a study has

been undertaken to assess a wide variety of

systems for accomplishing a manned lunar

landing in the 1967–70 time period. This

study has, as directed, placed primary emphasis on the launch vehicle portions of the 

[systems, including] vehicle sizes, types and

staging. In addition a number of variations

on the use of rendezvous to add flexibility

and improve energy management in the lunar

mission have been considered. The results of

this study are the subject of this report. 

Mission staging by rendezvous has been the

subject of much investigation at Marshall,

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 25
Langley, Ames, Lewis, and JPL. The work

has concerned itself with analytical and simulator studies of orbital mechanics, and control and guidance problems as applied to

rendezvous. Such critical questions as launch

timing, and automatic and piloted guidance

of the vehicles to a rendezvous have been

carefully analyzed. Orbital refueling as well

as attachment of self-contained modules

have been considered. 

Because the use of rendezvous permits the

accomplishment of a given mission in a number of different ways employing different

launch vehicles, the various groups working

on rendezvous have arrived at a number of

different concepts for accomplishing the

lunar landing mission. The assumptions

made by the different groups with regard to

such parameters as return weight, specific

impulse, etc. were however, consistent to the

extent that meaningful comparisons can be

made between the different concepts. 

The vehicles considered were restricted to

those employing engines presently under

development. These vehicles are:

a. Saturn C-2 which has the capability

of placing about 45,000 pounds in

earth orbit and 15,000 pounds in an

escape trajectory;

b. Saturn C-3 which has the capability

of placing about 110,000 pounds in

earth orbit and 35,000 pounds in an

escape trajectory. 

Lunar [Orbit] Rendezvous

A concept in which a rendezvous is made in

lunar orbit possesses basic advantages in

terms of energy management and thus

launch vehicle requirements. This approach

involves placing the complete spacecraft in

orbit about the moon at a relatively low altitude. One or two of the three-man crew then

descends to the lunar surface; after landing

the capsule performs a rendezvous with that

portion of the spacecraft which remained in

lunar orbit. The lunar capsule is, of course,

left behind on the return trip of the spacecraft to earth. 

The basic advantage of the system is that the

propellant required for the lunar landing and

take-off is reduced which in turn translates

into a reduction in the amount of weight

which must be put into a lunar escape trajectory. The escape weight saving achieved is

related to the fraction of the spacecraft

weight which is retained in lunar orbit. The

actual weight saving which can be realistically achieved by this method can only be

determined after detailed consideration of

the design and integration of the complete

spacecraft. Calculations suggest, however,

that the amount of weight which must be put

into an escape trajectory for a given reentry

vehicle weight might be reduced by a factor

of two by use of the lunar rendezvous technique. The earth booster requirement might

therefore be reduced to one C-3 with lunar

rendezvous or two to three C-3’s with earth

rendezvous. [I had already received a letter

advocating this approach from John

Houbolt dated 19 May 1961.] 

Advantages and Disadvantages Peculiar

to Methods Considered

I. Earth Rendezvous with C-2’s (5–7 vehicles required)

a. Advantages

1. Fast reliability build up due to higher firing rate

2. Assured launch capability from

shore bases

b. Disadvantages

1. Large number of vehicles required

2. Long time maintenance in orbit and

long exposure to space hazards (up 

to six months with present AMR,

Atlantic Mission Range, pad planning.

II. Earth Rendezvous with C-3’s (2–3 vehicles required)

a. Advantages

1. Only 1 or 2 rendezvous operations

required—simpler, less maintenance,

26 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
and exposure time compared to C-2

vehicles systems. 

2. Vehicle has single shot lunar orbit

mission capability.

3. Could possibly launch from AMR

b. Disadvantages

1. Requires a new second stage compared to the C-2.

III. Lunar rendezvous with C-3 (1 vehicle

required)

a. Advantages

1. Energy, and thus vehicle size, potentially reducible by the order of 50%. 

2. Direct monitoring of landing operation possible from orbiter. (Wide

band communication available to

enhance monitoring). 

b. Disadvantages

1. A non fail-safe rendezvous

2. Does not have effective assistance

from surface tracking and communication networks for the rendezvous

maneuver. 

3. No growth potential for increased

mission requirements. 

Of the various orbital operations considered,

the use of rendezvous in earth orbit by two

or three Saturn C-3 vehicles (depending on

estimated payload requirements) was strongly

favored. This preference stemmed largely

from the small number of orbital operations

required and the fact that the C-3 is considered an efficient vehicle of large and future

growth.14

It’s interesting to note that as early as 10 June

1961, a Headquarters-Center study group made

such a strong representation for Lunar Orbit

Rendezvous but then rejected the mode out of hand

because there could be no backup in case of failure

to rendezvous. There could be other single-point

failures, such as a propulsion explosion when lifting

off the lunar surface. It would take another year for

this mode to become accepted in NASA and still

more months before the White House allowed

NASA to proceed. John Houbolt’s concept took a

long time aborning. 

“A Feasible Approach for an Early Manned

Lunar Landing,” a Study Chaired by Bill

Fleming, 16 June 1961

The study was to be accomplished as rapidly as

possible and in no more than four weeks. Excerpts

from the terms of reference follow: 

There is hereby established an Ad Hoc Task

Group that has the immediate responsibility

for determining for NASA in detail a feasible

and complete approach to the accomplishment of an early manned lunar landing 

mission. This study should result in the following information:

1. Identification of all tasks associated

with the mission.

2. Identification of the interdependent

time phasing of the tasks.

3. Identification of areas requiring considerable technological advancements

from the present state-of-the-art.

4. Identification of task for which multiple approach solutions are advisable to

insure accomplishment. 

5. Identification of important action and

decision points in the mission plan. 

6. Provision of a refined estimate by task

and by fiscal year of the dollar

resources required for the mission. 

7. Provision of refined estimates of in-house

manpower requirements by task and by

fiscal year. 

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 27

14. Committee chaired by Bruce Lundin, “Various Vehicle Systems for the Manned Lunar Landing Mission,” report to Robert C.

Seamans, Jr., NASA Associate Administrator, 10 June 1961. 
8. Establishment of tentative in-house

and contractor task assignments accompanying the dollar and manpower

resources requirements.

The following gross programmatic guidelines

shall serve as a starting base for the study:

1. Manned lunar landing target date—

1967—determine if feasible. 

2. Intermediate missions of multi-manned

orbital satellites and manned circumlunar missions are desirable at the earliest possible time.

3. The nature of man’s mission on the

moon as it affects the study shall be

determined by the Task Group, i.e., the

time he is to spend on the moon’s surface and the tasks that he shall perform

while there.

4. In establishing the mission plan, evaluate use of the Saturn C-2 as compared

to an alternate launch vehicle having a

higher thrust first stage and C-2 upper

stage components. 

5. The mission plan should include parallel development of liquid and solid

propulsion leading to a Nova Vehicle

and should indicate when the decision

should be made on the final Nova configuration. 

6. Nuclear powered launch vehicles shall

not be considered for use in the first

manned lunar landing mission. 

7. The flight test program should be laid

out with adequate launchings to meet

the needs of the program considering

the reliabilities involved. 

8. Alternate approaches should be provided in critical areas.15

Bill Fleming submitted his 510-page, comprehensive report entitled “A Feasible Approach

for an Early Manned Lunar Landing” the week

following the submission of the Lundin study.

The report did not attempt to find the optimum

configuration; rather, it attempted to include all

facets of the lunar landing missions, such as

spacecraft, launch vehicles, ground support, life

and space sciences, and the recruiting and training of astronauts.

For the purpose of this study, a direct flight to

the lunar surface using a Nova launch vehicle was

assumed. Intermediate-size vehicles were also

assumed within the configuration 1 or 2 (C-1 or C2) category. Configurations 1 and 2 were sized for

orbital and circumlunar flights, respectively. 

The Sequenced Milestone System, SMS, was

used to determine critical areas from a timing and

reliability standpoint and to obtain budgetary 

estimates including the overall total cost. The categories established in the study were the development, fabrication, and testing of all flight hardware;

the facilities required for testing and launching the

vehicles; the selection and training of the astronauts;

the conduct of satellite missions for obtaining necessary environmental data for the lunar mission,

especially on the level of radiation en route to the

Moon; and the surface conditions on the Moon. 

Twelve hundred tasks were specified, and the

timing, manpower, and cost were estimated for

each. It was determined that land acquisition and

facility construction were the “long poles in the

tent.” The report noted that it was essential to determine the location of all major facilities as soon as

possible and to conduct land acquisition, architectural designs, and construction as rapidly as possible.

During the first six months, according to the

study, NASA had to accomplish the following:

a. Assign program management and

system responsibility.

b. Obtain reentry heating data for the

design of Apollo. 

c. Get the contract for Apollo and the

C-3 first and second stages.

d. Establish flight crew make-up, selection techniques, and training plan. 

28 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

15. Bill Fleming, “A Feasible Approach for an Early Manned Lunar Landing,” 16 June 1961. 
e. Accelerate the F-1 engine funding. 

f. Initiate construction of a wide variety

of facilities. These include a new center for spacecraft development and

astronaut training, a launch facility

with a vertical assembly building, and

antennae for ground tracking and

communication. Construction had to

be hit hard and soon. 

The study was based on having facilities far

enough off shore to minimize noise and provide

safety for those on shore; it also included a vertical

assembly building with launching pads over a mile

away (see figures 7 and 8). Consideration was given to

noise levels in inhabited areas for both Cumberland

and Merritt Islands (see figures 9 and 10).

The Fleming report listed three caveats for

accomplishing this mission within a six-year period:

immediate funding, no major catastrophes, and

relief from labor slowdowns. 

The study concluded that a manned lunar landing was feasible in the 1967 time period but that

major management decisions and actions were

required in the first six months. The total cost was

estimated to be $12 billion. Critical data were needed

on the amount of solar-radiation protection

required for the astronauts and on the lunar surface’s characteristics.

Mercury Moves Ahead

During the planning and buildup for Apollo,

NASA, and particularly the Space Task Group, had

to keep focused on all the details of the Mercury

Program. Three flights remained in 1961, one of

which was manned. Gus Grissom was scheduled for

a Mercury Redstone in July. This mission was followed by an unmanned single-orbit test of the

Mercury Atlas in September, and a three-orbit mission was scheduled in October with the chimpanzee

Enos in the driver’s seat. 

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 29

Figure 7. An offshore launch facility, from the Fleming study.
nearly 40 years until it was rescued by entrepreneurs who put it on display.16 

Korolev Scores Again

Two weeks after Gus Grissom’s suborbital

flight, Soviet cosmonaut Gherman S. Titov became

the first space explorer to stay in orbit over 24

hours. The flight of Vostok II, four months after

Gagarin’s famous first endeavor, showed us that the

Soviets were in earnest and moving toward major

accomplishments in space. Korolev was the mastermind of a progressive program that was pressing

ahead on all fronts. At this early stage, we didn’t

know his name or background, but we knew that

the Soviet space program was managed skillfully

and with imagination.

Wednesday, 13 September 1961,

One Orbit Unmanned, MA-4

The Mercury capsule was launched by an Atlas

booster, hence the mission was designated “MA”.

The first launching took place on 13 September

Friday, 21 July 1961, MR-4, Virgil

T. “Gus” Grissom

Gus Grissom and his backup, John Glenn,

along with Shepard, had undergone refresher centrifuge training in April, so they were all set for the

g forces to be experienced during liftoff and reentry

on their next Mercury Redstone missions. Gus and

John went back to work right after Alan’s flight.

The astronauts exercised themselves and the

Mercury systems in the simulated high-altitude

chamber. Medical data were obtained as they

checked the communications, practiced using the

manual controls, and simulated complete missions.

Each astronaut completed over 100 simulated

flights before Gus’s flight on 21 July. 

Egress from the capsule had required the

removal of a bulkhead, followed by a climb

through the antenna compartment—difficult for a

healthy astronaut, but precarious for an injured

one. For this reason, a side hatch was developed

with 70 bolts, each with a detonating fuse. When a

pin was removed in the cockpit, a fist force of 5 or

6 pounds would open the hatch. In addition, the

two 10-inch side windows were replaced by a single

trapezoidal window, giving the astronauts nearly 30

degrees of forward vision—up, down, and sideways. Originally, Mercury was going to have a

periscope, but no windows; however, the astronauts

rebelled at being “Spam in a can.” Now they truly

could be Earth and sky observers. 

Shepard’s flight had been overloaded with tests

of manual control. Grissom’s 10 weightless minutes

were to be spent with as much visual observation as

possible. There were weather holds on the 18th and

19th, and even on the 21st conditions weren’t ideal,

but liftoff occurred at 7:20 a.m. The flights went

according to plan until Liberty Bell 7 was afloat following reentry. How it happened is still the subject

of speculation, but the hatch blew off as the rescue

helicopter approached. The capsule started taking

on water as Gus attempted to fasten the helicopter

cable. The capsule became too heavy for the helicopter to lift, and Gus started to submerge. On the

third try, he was barely able to grab the collar and

be pulled to safety. The valve on his suit had not

been turned off, so it had filled with water, but Gus

was okay. Liberty Bell 7 lay on the ocean floor for

30 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 8. A Vertical Assembly Building, from the Fleming study.

16. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 367.
Figure 9. A potential launch site, from the Fleming study. (Declassified on 28 February 2005 by Norm Weinberg, NASA Headquarters.)

1961. The so-called “thin skin” Atlas had a modified nose section to better carry the capsule weight.

The flight proceeded through maximum dynamic

pressure after 52 seconds of flight. All systems were

go, and a peak velocity of 17,600 mph was reached.

The maximum acceleration was 7.6 g’s. The orbit

was slightly lower than planned, but acceptable, so

the flight continued. During the flight, simulated

crewmen placed on board the craft continued to

“breathe” oxygen and produce moisture and carbon dioxide. High oxygen usage was reported early,

and the tracking station in Zanzibar reported that

only 30 percent of the primary supply was left. The

retrorockets were fired in the vicinity of Hawaii, the

drogue and main parachutes opened at the appropriate altitudes, and the destroyer Decatur made

the recovery. The cause for the excessive use of oxygen was discovered. Vibration caused a flow-rate

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 31

handle to become dislodged from detent. A new

emergency-rate handle with positive latching was

devised for later missions.The mission was judged a

complete success.17

Saturday, 7 October 1961, MA-5,

Three-Orbit Chimpanzee Mission 

Some questioned the need for another test mission prior to manned orbital flight. By this time, the

Soviets had achieved their second manned orbital

success with cosmonaut Titov. Wouldn’t the United

States look ridiculous with still another chimp at

the controls? The Space Task Group team, headed

by Bob Gilruth, was adamant: we had to stick to

our plan and not be rushed. There was a fairly long

list of modifications required as a result of MA-4,

17. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 398.
By October’s End–In Progress or

Completed 

Two of the major Apollo studies were complete. The study teams were composed of

Headquarters and field personnel and were needed

to establish goals and priorities during the interregnum before the Headquarters program directors

were on hand and a new organizational structure

could be erected. Other complete actions included

the following:

1. Initiation of contractor design studies

for Mercury II (later Gemini). This

spacecraft would be launched by Titan

II and carry two astronauts. 

2. Completion in September of studies to

determine the Apollo launch site. The

NASA-DOD team was chaired by

and the new trapezoidal window had not been 

tested at orbital speeds. Enos the chimpanzee would

arrive with his own metal-plastic pressure coach

that was connected to the suit circuit of the regular

environmental control system.

The mission plans approximated as nearly as

possible those of the upcoming first manned flight.

Orbital insertion took place at an altitude of 100

miles, 480 miles from the Cape. The capsule would

travel around the world at 17,000 miles per hour

and, after 4 hours and 32 minutes, would fire its

retrorockets over the Pacific. On reentry, the outside temperatures would reach 1,260° F on the capsule’s section, 2,000°F on the antenna housing, and

3,000°F on the heatshield. Enos and his chariot performed according to plan until a yaw reaction jet

malfunction, and the flight was terminated successfully after the second orbit.18

32 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

18. Ibid., p. 398.

Figure 10. Layout of Launch Complex 39, from the Fleming study.
General L. I. Davis, commander of the

Atlantic Missile Range, and Dr. Kurt

Debus, director of NASA activities at

Cape Canaveral. Six sites were reviewed.

Cumberland Island, Georgia, and

Merritt Island, across the Indian River

from Cape Canaveral, were the serious

contenders. The ad hoc group recommended Merritt Island because of its

proximity to the Air Force facilities at

Cape Canaveral. 

3. Initiation of a NASA-DOD large launch

vehicle study. In order to conduct large

launch vehicle developments of maximum benefit to both NASA and DOD, a

comprehensive study was initiated on 23

June 1961. This study was co-chaired by

Dr. Lawrence Kavanau from DOD and

Dr. Nicholas Golovin of NASA. The ad

hoc group examined solid and liquid

propulsion, launch vehicles that ranged

in size from the Titan series to Nova-type

monsters. The group also examined rendezvous options. 

4. Completion in July of further rendezvous studies for manned lunar landing. These studies were conducted by

the ad hoc group chaired by Colonel

Donald Heaton. The report confirmed

that by using rendezvous in Earth

orbit, the United States could achieve

lunar landing at least one year earlier

than by a direct ascent to the Moon

using a Nova vehicle. However, as

many as three launches of the Saturn

C-3 might be required, as opposed to

only two with still another version of

the Saturn, the C-4. The C-4 had four

F-1 engines in the first stage rather

than two. The report also contained a

list of major management decisions

and actions required during the first six

months of the program. 

5. Launch of the first stage of Saturn 

I on 27 October 1961. The first Saturn

SA-1 was static-tested at Huntsville,

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 33

19. Arnold S. Levine, Managing NASA in the Apollo Era (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4102, 1982), pp. 318–320.

Alabama, in May 1961 and then

shipped to the launch site at Cape

Canaveral. The 162-foot carrier weighed

nearly one million pounds. Its eight H-1

engines lifted its payload of sand on 27

October 1961 and traveled 200 miles

downrange. More than 500 different

measurements were recorded, and the

flight was deemed flawless. 

6. Authorization by Congress of 425

excepted positions, raised from 290.

Excepted positions didn’t come under

the aegis of the civil service. Individuals

in these positions were hired and fired

at the pleasure of the Administration.19

It was obvious from the start that NASA’s

Apollo Program would require a substantial

increase in manpower, but as a matter of policy, the

major increase should come from the support of

other governmental agencies, industry, and universities. Industrial teams would be selected by procurement procedures, which, although somewhat

standardized, would be refined for the purposes of

NASA’s programs. Specifically, there would not be a

source selection team, but a source evaluation

team—the Triad of Webb, Dryden, and Seamans

would make the final decision (see figure 2). A variety of incentive arrangements were tested as the

program evolved and expanded. University participation would normally result from grants, but there

were exceptions—for example, in the development of

Apollo guidance and navigation, the Massachusetts

Institute of Technology operated on a cost-plus contract. One key area had to be the direct responsibility of the government, namely, land acquisition and

construction of facilities. NASA had minimal internal capability, and time didn’t permit the evolution

of such a capability. One day, Mr. Webb came into

my office unannounced and ready for travel. He

wanted me to join him on an important mission. As

we settled into his black limousine (actually a black

Checker cab), he explained that we were headed to

the office of Lieutenant General William F. Cassidy,

commander of the Corps of Engineers. The Army

Corps of Engineers builds all manner of dams,

waterways, and buildings, and we were hoping to
possibilities floated to Washington, they became

nonstarters. Water became the way to go, but what

type of vessels should be used? Roll-on, roll-off-type

barges had many advantages and were selected. With

relatively low draft, vessels from Marshall could

reach the Gulf of Mexico by traveling on sections of

the Tennessee, Ohio, and Mississippi Rivers.

Similarly, Houston, with a waterway to Galveston,

is nearly on the Gulf; once there, cargo can readily

be shipped to Cape Canaveral. 

Our next-door neighbor, Marvin Coles, was the

chief lobbyist for the Maritime Industries of

America. I came home one evening after testifying

on issues of transportation to find him practically

on my doorstep. To paraphrase, he said, “I hope

you’re not going to start a U.S. trip to the Moon by

using foreign shipping.” My rejoinder was, “How

about helping our country find suitable shipping

rather than getting in a swivet over what we might

do?” He did, and our needs were satisfied. The 

second stage of Saturn I and the nearly identical third

stage of Saturn V were manufactured by McDonnell

Douglas in Santa Monica, California. Three stages

could be shipped by sea, as was necessary for the second stage of the Saturn V manufactured by North

American Aviation (NAA), also in California.

However, an enterprising small company, Aero

Spacelines, perhaps hearing of Huntsville’s efforts,

modified a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser into the most

unlikely vehicle imaginable. The cargo area of the

fuselage was doubled in volume, giving the plane its

informal name, “the pregnant guppy.” NASA was

all for the use of the plane if it could be certified by

the Federal Aviation Administration. One day, I was

asked to approve a voucher for a small amount. 

The company had run out of assets and, for lack of

fuel, couldn’t complete the required testing. NASA

approved the funds, the license was obtained, and

the “pregnant guppy” provided years of service. 

First-Stage Construction Site 

About that time, we selected Houston as the

location for the Manned Spacecraft Center. I

received a call from Wernher von Braun about a 45-

acre building in the outskirts of New Orleans. The

Michoud Plant was on property fronting the

Mississippi River. The building had been used by

Higgins for shipbuilding during World War II and

by Chrysler for making tank engines during the

Korean War, and it was currently idle. After further

enlist their support for land acquisition and construction of facilities. As I remember, the meeting

was relatively short; we explained our mission and

its needs, and General Cassidy assured us that the

Corps could satisfy our requirements and wouldn’t

require approval for extra billets (manpower openings). Their performance was truly remarkable.

Manned Spacecraft Center

Each of the three lunar landing studies emphasized the requirement for early construction of facilities if the 1967 date was to be achieved. And, of

course, the construction couldn’t commence without

a decision on those facilities’ locations and requirements. The location of the launch facilities on

Merritt Island had already been discussed. Also mentioned was the need for a manned spaceflight center

to match the launch vehicle establishment under

Wernher von Braun in Huntsville, Alabama. The

Space Task Group was managing the Mercury

Project and would serve as the nucleus for all

manned spacecraft development, astronaut training,

and space operations. NASA’s Langley Research

Center had spawned the Space Task Group, but

growth in the Tidewater region of Virginia was limited by several factors, such as the lack of available

land, local personnel, technology base, and university support. NASA needs and political benefits led

to Houston, Texas. The districts of Tiger Teague,

chairman of NASA’s authorization committee, and

Albert Thomas, chairman of our appropriation

subcommittee, shared Houston and its environs. In

addition, the land for the new center was donated to

NASA as an additional come-on. Rice University

would be close by, an important part of the total

package.

Shipment of Launch Vehicles and

Spacecraft

One of the important issues facing NASA was

the means for shipping the large, heavy, and somewhat delicate stages of the boosters and spacecraft

modules. The Marshall Center examined the feasibility of dirigibles lashed together with the space

hardware hanging in between. They even looked

into the possibility of acquiring Lakehurst, New

Jersey, where dirigibles used to land before World

War II. Another avenue Marshall investigated was

the development of special aircraft. When these

34 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
investigation by the Marshall team, along with

Chrysler and Boeing, the contractors for the first

stages of the Saturn I and the Saturn V, respectively,

all agreed that there was room for the fabrication of

both booster stages. However, there was a need for

additions to the structure. The Corps of Engineers

built a high bay area for static testing and constructed

a partition separating the contractor manufacturing

areas with one portal between them called

Checkpoint Charlie. Both the engineering and manufacturing space required extensive rehabilitation.

The washrooms were not only segregated between

blacks and whites, but I also found, on an inspection tour, that the doorways were significantly narrower for blacks. Needless to say, all facilities were

henceforth integrated.

Mississippi Test Facility 

Just across the Pearl River from Louisiana was

ideal property for static testing of all Saturn I and

Saturn V stages, as well as test stands for the F-1 and

J-2 engines. This large tract of land in Mississippi

had about 600 inhabitants who had lived there for

generations. When the Corps started acquiring the

land by eminent domain, questions arose as to where

the inhabitants could move and still trap muskrats,

their primary livelihood. Throughout its properties,

NASA attempted to preserve the native habitat. On

Merritt Island, where the government acquired

55,000 acres, many of the orange groves were

maintained and leased back to the former owners.

Before every launching, a special whistle warned the

birdlife of the upcoming earsplitting noise. Many

eagles’ nests in the area are still active. Wherever possible, NASA maintained the land it acquired for both

human use and natural habitat. 

Kennedy’s Spaceflight Center

However, the largest structure of all was the

Vertical Assembly Building (VAB), which was to be

constructed on Merritt Island, close to Cape

Canaveral. The building could house four Saturn V

vehicles at any one time, and each could exit the

building by a separate set of doors. The Saturn V

stood 360 feet tall, and when it was mounted on its

transportation, along with the umbilical tower, well

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 35

20. Charles Murray and Catherine Bly Cox, Apollo: The Race to the Moon, New York: Simon & Schuster, July 1989), p. 319.

over 400 feet of height was required. The central

section of the building was 525 feet tall and covered

8 acres. It was mounted on 4,225 piles, each driven

to a depth of 150 to 190 feet. A new type of vibrating pile driver was used facilitating penetration into

sandy soil.20 Three architecture teams were used for

the total facility, which, in addition to the main section,

had a low bay area and the launch control centers.

Although the VAB was the largest building by

volume in the world, there was nothing nearby to

make it appear so. Also, when you stood on the

roof, it didn’t appear high because the roof lines

extended so far that they blended with the land and

sea out to the natural horizon. But take the elevator

to the 52nd floor and walk across the catwalk just

under the roof, and vertigo could suddenly take

hold. Visitors always remembered their trip to the

52nd floor and their view downward of large

rocket structures and diminutive people.

Important program milestones had recently

been achieved. Many more were pending. Brainerd

Holmes arrived amidst plenty of activity. Office

space for him and his staff would be required in the

District of Columbia. It was already decided that

the Office of Manned Spaceflight (OMSF), of necessity, had to be close to the rest of NASA Headquarters

and to Congress. Accommodations for Brainerd’s

office were found near George Washington University. 

The development plan for Mercury II became

available for Brainerd’s review in November. The primary purpose of Mercury II was to gain experience

with orbital maneuvers, including the rendezvous

and docking with the unmanned test vehicle,

Agena. An appropriate award was offered for an

appropriate name for Mercury II. “Gemini,” referring to the heavenly twins Castor and Pollux, won

the special award of a bottle of Old Fitzgerald

hands down.

National Headquarters

Reorganization

On 1 November, NASA announced a major

Headquarters reorganization with five new program offices. The new offices (see figure 20) were

Manned Space Flight, under D. Brainerd Holmes;
the booster to these engines as soon as

possible. (John didn’t know we were

about to approve the C-5.)

3. Establish the concept of using a C-3

and lunar rendezvous to accomplish

the manned lunar landing as a firm

program. (I was trying my best, but

controversial decisions of this type cannot be made by decree. The next step

was to bring this message to Brainerd

in such a manner that he’d respond

positively to the concept of rendezvous

in orbit around the Moon.) 

John not only wrote me a letter, but, with two

others, he also wrote a comprehensive, 97-page

report entitled “Manned Lunar Landing Through

the Use of Lunar Orbit Rendezvous.” It was dated

31 December 1961 and gave a thorough outline of

his rendezvous research at Langley Research Center.

In addition, John had made a most favorable

impression when I visited Langley five days after

my swearing-in. He had explained the orbital

maneuvers and noted the 50-percent savings in

weight. The biggest stumbling block in people’s

minds was the absolute requirement for a successful

rendezvous in lunar orbit. This maneuver seemed

quite manageable to me as a result of my experience

at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT)

and the Radio Corporation of America (RCA). At

MIT, I directed projects on airborne missiles; at

RCA, the DOD SAtellite INTerceptor project,

SAINT. Obviously there was some risk in this portion of the mission, but the overall trip to the Moon

and back was loaded with risk, and its totality had

to be minimized.

Obtaining Systems Capability

As can be readily seen from John Houbolt’s

concerns, the Apollo Program office had an acute

need for a systems capability. This need for an ability

to conceive and define quantifiably all the elements

required to complete the mission was manifested

early on, and we attempted to recruit an in-house systems team within the Office of Manned Spaceflight.

Fortunately, through the good services of Mervin

Kelley, special consultant to Jim Webb, this effort

Space Sciences, under Homer Newell; Space

Applications, under Morton Stoller; Advanced

Research and Technology, under Ira Abbott; and

Tracking and Data Acquisition, under Edmond

Buckley. These program offices and their field 

installations reported directly to the Associate

Administrator. There was one general manager for

all NASA research, development, fabrication, and

operations. He was called the Associate Administrator. That was my job from 1 September 1960 to 5

January 1968. With this arrangement, I was able to

work directly with Bob Gilruth as he moved the

Space Task Group to Houston and with Kurt Debus

as he formed a new Center at the Cape. I also spent

time with Wernher von Braun at Huntsville as he

transformed his Army-type arsenal into a projecttype institution. Up until 1963, the Johnson Center

was still dotted around Houston. At the Cape,

launch and administrative buildings were under

construction, and at all three Centers, major contracts were under negotiation. It was a time of flux

as sound procedures were being formulated for the

difficult operations ahead. 

John Houbolt, Spokesman for

Lunar Orbit Rendezvous

On 15 November, I received another letter from

John Houbolt.21 I had received his first letter on 19

May 1961, even before Kennedy had delivered his

special message to Congress. Houbolt acknowledged that contacting me was “unorthodox” and

that I might feel I was “dealing with a crank.” As a

matter of fact, my first impulse upon receiving his

letters was to call Tommy Thompson, Director of

the Langley Research Center, and ask him to get

John off my back. However, I saw great merit in

lunar orbit rendezvous, the mode of operation so

strongly proposed by John. In his second letter,

after considerable fulminating about the rocket

engines and launch vehicles under development,

John recommended the following steps: 

1. Get a manned rendezvous experiment

going with Mercury MK II (soon to be

called Gemini).

2. Firm up the engine program suggested

in his letter and attachment, converting

36 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

21. John Houbolt to Robert C. Seamans, 15 November 1961, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and

Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.
yielded Joseph Shea (later to become the Apollo

chief systems engineer) and a contract laboratory,

Bellcom. Merv had been the director of AT&T’s

Bell Laboratories. He helped open the door to

James Fisk, the then-director. I visited the Bell Labs,

explained our needs and deficiencies to Jim, and

proposed the establishment of a system laboratory

in Washington, similar to but smaller than Sandia,

their laboratory set up for the Atomic Energy

Commission (AEC). Jim was by no means overjoyed

at the thought because some of his key personnel

would be required to establish the enterprise. He also

recognized that Apollo might have a lifespan of little more than a decade. He said that any hires

would become permanent members of the Bell

Laboratories, not to be let go if Bellcom’s contract

was terminated. Hence, they would hire only topgrade personnel. I agreed and said that’s what was

needed, but I also recognized that Bellcom would be

slow at the starting gate. When formed and

manned, the Bellcom group provided top-grade

analytical capability that supported system integration at both Headquarters and the Centers. 

After receiving his doctorate, Joe Shea had

become a member of the Bell Laboratories; more

recently, Joe had been responsible for the intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) guidance for the

Titan program at AC Spark Plug. After Joe’s swearing-in as the Apollo chief systems engineer, he and

Brainerd came to my office. He claims my instructions were to “sell lunar orbit rendezvous” to the

manned flight organization. This was not an easy

assignment because most members of von Braun’s

Marshall Center and Gilruth’s Manned Spacecraft

Center (then the Space Task Group) had taken a

strong stand for either Earth orbit rendezvous or

direct ascent. Joe’s quest took him into the inner circles of the flight centers in Houston and Huntsville

and, ultimately, the White House, and his efforts

were eventually crowned with success. NASA did

utilize lunar orbit rendezvous to achieve a manned

lunar landing within the decade, and, in my view,

that mode of operation was the only road to success. But while this key decision was in the balance,

NASA achieved a manned orbital flight when John

Glenn climbed aboard Friendship 7 for the second

time on 20 February. He was followed several

months later by Scott Carpenter.

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 37

Tuesday, 20 February 1962, 

MA-6, John Glenn’s Orbital Mission

Even before 20 February, John Glenn experienced the sometime vagaries of countdowns. On 27

January, the first countdown for MA-6 commenced, and after a series of holds, the flight was

scrubbed. John had been lying on his couch for over

4 hours. During this time, his courageous wife

Annie had been at home with her family, and members of the press corps outside were salivating while

awaiting news of the flight. Was it to be a grand

success with a happy wife or a fatal failure with a

family in mourning? Either way, the media were

there in eager anticipation. 

While this act was in play, Vice President

Lyndon Johnson, who was also chairman of the

Space Council, was in a limousine nearby, wanting

to appear on the scene and bolster Annie’s confidence. What might have been a touching scenario

was not to be. She didn’t want counseling. As soon

as John Glenn emerged from the gantry tower, he

was advised of the stalemate. Would he please call

Annie and tell her that she must welcome the Vice

President? His reply was direct: “If Annie doesn’t

want to see the Vice President, she doesn’t have to.” 

On 20 February, the biosensors were installed

on John at 5:00 a.m., and he was soon on the way

to the launchpad. By 7:00 a.m., the hatch was

bolted in place, and he commented that the 

weather was breaking up. At 8:05, the time was T

minus 60 minutes. After a series of small holds, it

became T minus 22 minutes at 8:58 a.m. By then,

John Glenn and the blockhouse and Control Center

crews were joined by about 50,000 “birdwatchers”

on local beaches and an estimated 100 million

viewers via TV sets. At 9:47, Friendship 7 was up

and away and John’s pulse reached 110 beats per

minute. Telemetered signals indicated that the Atlas

and spacecraft were performing perfectly. At the

maximum dynamic pressure, max-q, John reported,

“It’s a little bumpy around here.” Five minutes after

liftoff, Friendship 7 was “through the gates,” and,

according to Goddard’s computers, conditions were

good enough for nearly 100 orbits. Glenn found

that he could move about and see well, but he

quipped, “I’d like a glass capsule.” Weightlessness
Thursday, 24 May 1962, MA-7, 

Scott Carpenter 

At 3:45 a.m., Scott and his team boarded his

land transportation for a slow ride to Aurora 7. The

countdown was flawless, with three 15-minute

holds solely to wait for ground fog to disperse.

During the holds, Scott chatted with his wife, Rene,

and their four children. Liftoff and orbital entry

were completely nominal, leading Chris Kraft to

comment that MA-7 was the most successful flight

to date. Scott enjoyed his capsule maneuvers, 

photographing surface objects over Woomera,

Australia, and airglow phenomena. On six occasions, he accidentally activated the high-thrust control jets. So by the end of two orbits, his control fuel

was down to 40 percent. He was advised to use his

fuel sparingly. So on the final orbit, he went

through a long period of drifting. He let the capsule

slowly roll until it was close to retrofire. The tracking site at Hawaii instructed Scott to start his preretrofire countdown. He advised ground control

that he was somewhat behind, as he had spent some

time testing his hypothesis about the snowflake particles that John Glenn had seen. Then, as he

attempted to lock up his 34-degree nose up and 0-

degree yaw, he was in trouble. The automatic control failed. He hurriedly went to fly-by-wire and felt

that he was in alignment when he heard Alan

Shepard’s voice from California asking whether he

had bypassed the automatic retro-attitude switch.

Carpenter quickly acted on this timely reminder.

About 3 seconds after Shepard’s call of “Mark! Fire

one,” the first rocket ignited, followed by the second and third. Actually, Aurora 7 was yawed 25

degrees to the flightpath, causing a 175-mile overshoot of the landing. The retrorockets were fired 3

seconds late and provided excess power, which

accounted for another 75 miles over target. After

landing, Scott noticed some water on his tape

recorder, and his capsule had a continued list. He

had at least an hour’s wait, so he decided to abandon ship. Not wanting to open the hatch for fear of

sinking, he wormed his way upward through the

throat of the spacecraft. To keep cool, he left his

suit hose attached and struggled with the life raft,

survival kit, and kinked hose before getting his head

outside. He was able to disembark, deploy his life

raft, and enjoy the presence of the sea bass and

gulls until aircraft arrived and two frogmen

appeared beside him. They later reported that Scott

has its advantages: if his attention was drawn to the

panel switches, he’d leave his camera suspended

near his head until he could return to taking photos.

Within range of the Australian tracking station, he

reported feeling fine, seeing bright lights (Perth),

and being excited about the “shortest day of his

life” (108 minutes from sunrise to sunrise).

Then, when he was over Mexico, he notified

the station that a yaw reaction jet was giving him

trouble. He had to live with the problem for the rest

of the mission by shifting to manual control or just

allowing the capsule to drift so that he could save

his fuel supplies. Later in the mission, a more serious problem appeared to a ground controller: the

heatshield had become unlocked and was held in

place only by the straps of the retro package.

During the remainder of the flight, a debate continued over whether to jettison the retrorockets after

their firing and run the risk of disengaging the heatshield or to leave them on, thereby securing the

heatshield until g forces kept it in place but running

the risk of damaging the heatshield as reentry heat

destroyed the rockets. Christopher Kraft and

Walter Williams decided to keep the retro pack in

place. (Walter Williams was the mission controller

on the early Mercury flights. Christopher Kraft

assumed this responsibility later in the program.)

The retros were fired as Friendship 7 approached

the California coast. “Boy, it feels like I’m going

halfway back to Hawaii,” Glenn exclaimed. As the

capsule decelerated and the temperature outside the

capsule increased, there was a real fireball outside.

Was it the heatshield disintegrating? And then, after

passing peak g’s, the spacecraft started oscillating

wildly and the fuel in the damping control became

low. However, the drogue opened at 28,000 feet, and

all was well. John and Friendship 7 were retrieved by

Noa, a destroyer, and later transferred to the carrier

Randolph. The recovery team described John’s condition as hot; sweating profusely; fatigued; lucid, but

not loquacious; thirsty, not hungry. John Glenn was

safe and sound.22

The President, Jim Webb, and other dignitaries

welcomed John when he returned to the Cape. My

wife Gene and I were happy to be in the large, welcoming crowd, although we were almost overrun

by the media, who were ever straining to close in on

America’s latest hero. 

38 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

22. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 423.
appeared “smiling, happy, and not at all tired.”

After 3 hours, Scott was picked up by an HSS-2

helicopter, which first dunked him in the water

before putting him aboard the destroyer Pierce. He

cut a hole in his socks and proceeded to pace

around the deck as the water drained and he talked

about his flight. He received the traditional congratulatory call from the President. Scott apologized to him for not aiming more precisely.23

Saturn V Defined and Approved

for Development

On 25 January 1962, NASA established a standard configuration for Saturn and approved its

development program, with Marshall Space Flight

Center having responsibility for all three stages using

the F-1 and J-2 engines. There were many potential

roadblocks that might have derailed the development

of the Saturn. Examples include the combustion

instability of the F-1 engines and the intractable difficulty of moving the Apollo/Saturn from the Vertical

Assembly Building to the launchpad. 

In June 1962, NASA announced that the

Advanced Saturn had shown considerable growth.

The three-stage Saturn booster was originally contracted as the C-2 configuration of Saturn, with

Boeing developing the first stage with two F-2

engines, North American the second stage with

two J-2 engines, and Douglas the third stage with

six RL-10 engines. In the final version, the number

of first- and second-stage engines had grown from

two to five and the third stage had given up the six

RL-10 engines that produced 90,000 pounds of

thrust for one 200,000-pound-thrust J-2 engine.

When lifting off the pad, the five F-1 kerosene-oxygen engines provided 7.5 million pounds of thrust,

and the second-stage burn with hydrogen-oxygen

J-2 engines drove Saturn toward orbit with a 1-

million-pound thrust.24 When I was reviewing this

transformation with Abe Hyatt, Director of Plans

and Evaluation, he asked me whether we should

rebid the three contracts because such major

changes had been made in the specifications. My

answer was, “Not on your life.”

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 39

23. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 447.

24. Wernher von Braun and Frederick I. Ordway III, History of Rocketry and Space Travel (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell

Company, 1966, p. 170.

Assembling Indoors

The concept of assembling the Apollo/Saturn

indoors had great appeal. Construction on the

launchpad had been fraught with difficulty. During

heavy winds or rain, tarpaulins were dropped

around the vehicle for protection against sand and

water. And of course, when lightning was striking,

there was no assurance that the vehicle would be

spared. For this reason, as early as the spring of

1961, plans were approved for a Vertical Assembly

Building in which the rocket stages and the Apollo

spacecraft would be mated and checked out. Before

the VAB was built, launch crews performed their

checkout in blockhouses of reinforced concrete

adjacent to the pad because analog instruments

were utilized and their readout had to be near the

vehicle. In the new concept, the on-board instruments might be analog or digital, but conversion to

digital would be 100 percent. The RCA computers

for this purpose were located in the structure supporting the vehicle and moved with the vehicle

from the VAB to the launchpad. The same monitors

were used in Launch Control whether the vehicle

was in assembly or preparing for launch. During

the final 2 minutes before liftoff, the checkout

became automatic, surveying all 70,000 instruments to be certain all parts of the vehicle and supporting equipment were within tolerance. 

Transportation at a Crawl

But how was the vehicle to be transported?

Clearly by rail. However, detailed work on transportation design showed that the combined weight

of the vehicle and its supporting structure was too

heavy for the steel wheels. Flats would develop

overnight, even with all the wheels the design could

muster. Next, a review with the Navy led to the

conclusion that there was no way to float the

assembly in a stable fashion. Our plans for a VAB

were nearly scrapped when word came of crawlers

used to transport huge draglines in the open pit

mines of Appalachia. Although skeptical, a team

from the Cape visited an installation. When they

asked for a demonstration, they were told to climb
support NASA’s position that “this development

should be pursued with the highest priority . . .

lunar orbit rendezvous offers the chance of earliest

accomplishment of manned lunar landing. It is

quite likely that the pacing item for any rendezvous

approach is the development of the launch vehicle,

hence the high degree of urgency recommended.”29 

The report then went on to recommend the

Nova vehicle with twice the capability of the Saturn

V: “Since it is by no means certain that the development of rendezvous operations will advance rapidly

enough to provide earliest accomplishment of

manned lunar landing, it is recommended that the

direct ascent capability be developed on a concurrent basis.”30 The report recommended Nova, but

lunar orbit rendezvous had been approved by

NASA and, tacitly, by the White House three

months earlier. Nova, the mother of all vehicles,

was hard to kill. NASA believed that rendezvous

could be readily achieved, and it was. Nova was no

longer actively pursued. Hence, a major part of the

Kavanau-Golovin report that related to very large

solids and a 1.5-million-pound hydrogen-oxygen

engine became irrelevant. 

However, there were three other elements in the

report that were most significant, two with which

NASA readily agreed and one on the controversial

list: 1) automatic checkout, 2) redundancy, and 3)

number of flights to man-rate. The report stated

that automatic checkout and countdown must be

advanced for two reasons: first, to reduce the

prelaunch time; and second, to enhance reliability.

This observation was certainly true and will be discussed more fully later. The second was for redundancy and specifically for engine out capability. The

second Saturn V launching achieved orbit even

through two of its five J-2 engines flamed out during the boost phase.

However, the report recommended an excessive

number of flights for man rating. Note the followthe ladder and come aboard. Getting impatient,

they asked when the crawler would start, only to be

told that they had been moving for 5 to 10 minutes.

What’s more, the crawler had automatic leveling

precise enough to keep the vehicle vertical within

better than a foot at the top of the capsule 380 feet

from the base. Figure 11 shows my sons, Joe and

Toby, inside one of the four cars. The individual

treads weigh several tons. To ensure success, the

roadbeds to the pads had to be excavated 6 feet and

filled and rolled with appropriate gravel.25

Large Launch Vehicles

Later in 1962 (on 24 September, to be exact),

Golovin and Kavanau, cochairmen of the NASADOD Large Launch Vehicle Planning Group, 

submitted the group’s final report.26 The results culminated from major efforts by elements of both

organizations. The report recommended “a minimum modification version of the Titan II ballistic

missile for the Gemini program.”27 Nearly concurrent with this recommendation was a DOD-NASA

agreement recognizing Gemini as a NASA project.

The agreement spelled out a Gemini Program

Planning Committee to be chaired by the Associate

Administrator of NASA and the Under Secretary of

the Air Force.28 This relationship was most fortuitous as longitudinal vibrations of Titan (called the

POGO effect, after the movement of a pogo stick)

gave visibility and prominence to all hands.

The report also recommended that the Saturn I

of NASA be continued but that a Titan III launch

vehicle be developed in parallel, thereby providing

DOD with a vehicle of similar capability to Saturn

I, but with a combination of liquid storables and

solids, a launch vehicle more rapidly available in

times of crisis. 

NASA had approved the Saturn V three months

prior to this NASA-DOD report. The report did

40 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

25. Murray and Cox, Apollo, The Race to the Moon, pp. 98–99.

26. Nicholas Golovin and Lawrence Kavanau, “Large Launch Vehicles Including Rendezvous,” NASA-DOD report by The Planning

Group, 24 September 1962, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT

Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

27. Golovin and Kavanau, chap. III, section 1. 

28. W. Fred Boone, NASA Office of Defense Affairs, the First Five Years (NASA, 1970), p. 84.

29. Golovin and Kavanau, chap. II, section 3.

30. Ibid., chap. II, section 5.
THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 41

Figure 11. The author’s sons, Toby (right) and Joe inside one of the treads of the massive vehicle transporter (crawler) at Cape

Canaveral on the day after the launching of Gemini 3, 23 March 1965.
another key maneuver. On 11 August, Andrian

Nikolayev had completed nearly four days in orbit

aboard Vostok 3, but that wasn’t all. Vostok 4 was

launched the next day with Andrian’s fellow cosmonaut, Pavel Popovich, at the controls. He maneuvered Vostok 4 within 4 miles of his companion.32 I

can remember that Aviation Week carried the story

soon after it occurred, and there was much speculation as to Soviet intentions. Were they conducting

this dual maneuver to gain experience for their own

exploration, or were these tests a prelude for Soviet

inspection and possible interception of U.S. satellites?

The United States had the unmanned project called

SAINT, but orbital tests had not been initiated.

Wednesday, 3 October 1962,

Sigma 7, MA-8, Walter Schirra

When Wally Schirra buckled himself into his

couch and smiled as he saw an automobile ignition

key hanging from a safety latch, his flight plans

were much more modest than the Soviets’. If all

went well, he would be approved for six orbits. The

launch phase had a few surprises. Early in the flight,

there was an unexpected roll, which stopped just

short of the abort condition. Then the booster

engine cut off several seconds early, and the escape

tower soon sped away, spreading a spotty film on

his window. The sustainer engine seemed to burn

on and on, although in actuality, it cut off only 10

seconds late. By a small margin, Wally sped faster

and higher than any other Mercury pilot. 

Temperature control in both cabin and suit had

proven difficult in previous missions, and now,

according to Position 4 on his controls, the cabin

was starting to overheat. Wally wasn’t too concerned, comparing his condition to that of mowing

his lawn in Texas on a summer’s day. However, on

his own, he started increasing the knob position a

half mark at a time and then waiting 10 minutes to

observe the result. By the time he reached Position

8, he was starting to feel cool. Ground control suggested that he go back to 3.5, but he selected 7.5, and

there the setting stayed, and he felt comfortable. 

The astronauts had no difficulty in using the

horizon by day and the stars by night for control42 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

31. Golovin and Kavanau, chap. III, section 3.

32. House Committee on Science and Astronautics, Astronautical and Aeronautical Events of 1962: Report of the National

Aeronautics and Space Administration (1963).

ing quotation: “From an examination of the results

of the calculation of mission success data analyzed

by the large launch vehicle group, it was found that

it would take two to three years of flight test and

about 25 to 60 launchings to man rate a Saturn I or

Saturn V using the reliability growth estimate of

this study.”31 The cost alone ruled out such a prodigious number of test launch vehicles. Additionally,

the tests are meaningless unless the whole system is

scrutinized, as there are many interactions between

the spacecraft launch vehicle and the ground environment. The resolution of this issue took place in

1963 and finally gave NASA policies, procedures,

and schedules that led to the achievement of

President Kennedy’s goal. However, the management of manned spaceflight changed hands before

this final action was taken.

Nuclear Testing Before the Ban,

September 1962

I was a sidebar participant in a meeting between

the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) chairman,

Glenn Seaborg, and President Kennedy at the White

House in September 1962. There was about to be a

worldwide moratorium on atmospheric testing of

nuclear weapons. The AEC had nine such tests that

it felt were essential. The question on numbers was

discussed in some detail, and the President finally

agreed to five, not nine. The AEC was bounded by

a completion date prior to the treaty date, but when

could they start? The test could not be run while

Mercury 8 (Sigma 7) was in orbit; the radiation

level would be too high for communications and

for Wally Schirra’s health. He was scheduled to

launch on 3 October. Everyone turned to me and

asked, “Can you meet the scheduled date?” My

answer was, “I guess we better.” The President

closed by saying, “NASA has the October 3rd date

and Glenn can test five of his toys.” 

Saturday and Sunday, 11–12

August 1962, Vostoks 3 and 4,

Nikolayev and Popovich 

By the time Wally Schirra was prepared for

launch aboard Sigma 7, the Soviets had performed
ling pitch above or below the horizon. The capsule

had to be correctly nosed up for a good reentry.

Similarly, roll could be readily brought to horizontal before reentry, but zero yaw was more difficult

to achieve, as Scott Carpenter had found in Aurora

7. Wally experimented, using ground cues, star patterns, and even the Moon. Night was the most difficult. He found that the correct retrofire attitude

placed the planet Jupiter on the upper right of his

window, the constellation Grus in a bit from the left

side, and the star Fomalhart at the top center. 

As the flight continued, he relaxed by powering

down and coasting along. He chatted with fellow

astronauts as he traveled over various ground and

ship stations, and then it was time for the checklist

in preparation for his return. When he came into

range of the Pacific command ship, he found he

still had 78 percent of his control fuel left. Shepard

asked how he stood on his checklist. Complete except

for arming the rocket squibs, Wally responded. Soon

thereafter, the three retrorockets fired in sequence,

and he started his descent. He termed his return to

the atmosphere as “thrilling.” He said that Earth’s

surface really began to brighten, and most surprising,

the “bear” he rode felt as stable as an airplane. Nine

hours and 54 minutes after launch, he was hoisted

aboard the USS Kearsarge. He received congratulatory messages from the President, the Vice

President, and his wife Josephina. In the colloquial,

it truly was a storybook flight.33

Winner of the Final Round—Lunar

Orbit Rendezvous

Charles Murray and Catherine Cox’s Apollo:

The Race to the Moon engagingly relates Joe Shea’s

adventure with the two NASA Centers, MSFC and

the Manned Spacecraft Center (MSC).34 Joe visited

Huntsville, home of von Braun’s Marshall Space

Flight Center, and came away with several good

additions to his systems engineering team but a negative response to lunar orbit rendezvous (LOR).

In Houston, home of Gilruth’s Manned

Spacecraft Center, Joe found kindred spirits for

LOR but a negative response to helping him with

the systems engineering. So he next hired Chance

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 43

Vought Corporation to review Houston’s weight

estimates. Then, one fateful day, after a series of

meetings, the Gilruth team spent 6 hours briefing

von Braun and his associates. At the end, there was

silence, and John Palp, North American’s Apollo

manager, was quoted as saying, “I’d like to hear

what son of a bitch thinks LOR isn’t the right thing

to do.”35 Actually, there was still another round of

meetings, during which the von Braun team presented its recommendations for Earth Orbit

Rendezvous in a 6-hour session. At the end of the

day, Wernher rose, complimented his own people,

and said that the Lunar Orbit Rendezvous offered

the highest confidence for successful achievement

within the decade. He pointed out that the separation of capsules for lunar landing and reentry into

Earth’s atmosphere was bound to simplify the

development of the system. 

But this was not the end of the story. Brainerd

Holmes and his team presented their findings to the

Triad (Dryden, Webb, and Seamans), who enthusiastically concurred. A press conference was scheduled for two weeks hence. However, NASA was not

to say that a decision had been reached because the

President’s science advisor was adamantly opposed

to LOR—in fact, Jerry Wiesner was never convinced that it was the correct method. Arguments

took place at the White House and on an extended

trip by the President and Vice President to various

NASA manned flight centers. At Marshall, in their

large vehicle assembly building, the argument blossomed in front of the nearby press, held at bay

behind a rope barrier but within earshot. It wasn’t

until 24 October 1962 that Jim Webb wrote Jerry

that NASA was going ahead with LOR. On 7

November 1962, a press conference was held confirming the decision and announcing that the

Grumman Aviation Corporation had been chosen

to build the Lunar Lander.

Why Spend Billions?

There’s been much conjecture about President

Kennedy’s motivation when he addressed Congress

and recommended a lunar landing and safe return

within the decade. Was he a true space cadet fantasizing about a lunar mission from Earth? Or was he

33. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 472.

34. Murray and Cox, Apollo: The Race to the Moon, pp. 124–128, 133–143.

35. Ibid, pp. 113–120.
Dryden, and I were on the other side when the

President arrived. He quickly got to the point:

. . . PRESIDENT KENNEDY: So it’s your

view that with the four hundred forty million

. . . you’d probably, . . . your judgment is you

won’t really save any time, is that correct?

JAMES WEBB: In the lunar landing I doubt

very much if we’d save time. You can schedule it, you can go through the PERT system.

Bob Seamans will say yes we . . . we will very

likely save from four to six months. But from

a general overall look at how these big programs run I doubt if we’d save very much

time. Now Bob, I think you ought to say

your own views because you are the operating head of this operation. 

ROBERT SEAMANS: I think I agree with

you Jim, that you can schedule six months

earlier but you have to understand what

these dates really are. These are dates for the

internal management of the projects. They

have to be dates that people believe are realistic. I mean, you have to have a fighting

chance to achieve these dates but they’re by no

means dates that you can absolutely guarantee

at this time, because this is a development program, and you are learning as you go along

and if you crank up too much of a crash program and you start running into trouble, it

can take more time to un-sort the difficulties

than if it is a better paced program. 

JAMES WEBB: A better way to state what I

was trying to state. I think we can do in an

orderly way what we have scheduled. I think

the other will provide quite a series of crises.

. . . PRESIDENT KENNEDY: . . . Do you

think this program is the top priority of the

agency? 

JAMES WEBB: No sir I do not. I think it is

one of the top priority programs . . . .

PRESIDENT KENNEDY: Jim, I think it is

the top priority, I think we ought to have that

impressed with the scientific importance of learning

more about our universe particularly our own solar

system? Some have suggested that he felt the need

for a major effort so that the Soviets would agree to

negotiate a joint program. My meetings with the

President at the White House on 21 November

1962 and during his visit to Cape Canaveral on 16

November 1963 showed me that he had one

straightforward goal, and it wasn’t any of the

above. He wanted the United States to conduct a

major, readily discernable mission in space prior to

an equivalent Soviet Union achievement. The

Soviets, thanks to Khrushchev’s opportunism and

Korolev’s mastery of Soviet technology, had embarrassed the United States again and again with cleverly devised and well-conceived forays into space.

Were we, as they claimed, a degenerating civilization and they the wave of the future? Kennedy

wanted to prove it wasn’t so. 

A meeting with President Kennedy at the White

House resulted from the interesting recommendation made by Brainerd Holmes for a supplemental

appropriation of $440 million for Apollo. Brainerd

had first approached me, stating that a supplement

of this magnitude would permit a lunar landing one

year earlier, namely, in 1966. I couldn’t believe him.

In 1961, we had increased Eisenhower’s budget

request for FY 1962 to $1.8 billion (an increase of

more than $670 million); the following year, to 3.7

billion.36 I was certain that Congress would look

askance and that even if the additional funds were

available, getting them wouldn’t land us on the

Moon earlier. I said no but agreed to a meeting with

Webb and Dryden, who both also said no. But

Brainerd had jump-started the Apollo Program, had

generated great esprit de corps, and was considered

“good copy” by the media. Soon after we turned

down Brainerd’s recommendations, an article

appeared in Time magazine describing an upheaval

at NASA: Brainerd and Jim Webb were locked in

deadly combat, one of them might have to go, and it

wasn’t necessarily Brainerd. Such articles can quickly

lead to White House interest, and this one did. 

The Kennedy Library recently released tapes of

the 21 November meeting. David Bell, director of

OMB, and Jerry Wiesner were on one side of the

table, and Brainerd Holmes, Jim Webb, Hugh

44 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

36. Table 4.4, “Requests, Authorization, Appropriations, Obligations and Disbursements,” p. 131, and table 4.13, “Funding NASA’s

Program FY1962,” p. 138, both in NASA Historical Data Book.
very clear. Some of these other programs can

slip six months, or nine months and nothing

strategic is going to happen, it’s gonna . . . .

But this is important for political reasons,

international political reasons. This is,

whether we like it or not, in a sense a race. If

we get second to the Moon its nice but its

like being second any time. So that if we’re

second by six months, because we didn’t give

it the kind of priority, then of course that

would be very serious. So I think we have to

take the view that this is the top priority with us.

JAMES WEBB: But the environment of space

is where you are going to operate the Apollo

and where you are going to do the landing. 

PRESIDENT KENNEDY: The science . . . .

Going to the moon is the top priority project

now there are a lot of related scientific information and developments that will come

from that which are important. But the

whole thrust of the agency in my opinion is

the lunar program. The rest of it can wait six

or nine months . . . .

JAMES WEBB: Why can’t it be tied to preeminence in space which are your own . . . .

PRESIDENT KENNEDY: Because, by God,

we keep, we’ve been telling everybody we’re

preeminent in space for five years and

nobody believes it because they [the Soviets]

have the booster and the satellite . . . . We’re

not going to settle the four hundred million

this morning. I want to take a look closely at

what Dave Bell . . . but I do think we ought

to get it, you know really clear that the policy ought to be that this is the top priority

program of the agency, and one of the two

things, except for defense, the top priority of

the United States Government. I think that is

the position we ought to take. Now, this may

not change anything about that schedule but

at least we ought to be clear, otherwise we

shouldn’t be spending this kind of money

because I’m not that interested in space. I

think it’s good, I think we ought to know

about it, we’re ready to spend reasonable

amounts of money. But we’re talking about

these fantastic expenditures which wreck our

budget and all these other domestic programs and the only justification for it in my

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 45

opinion to do it in this time or fashion is

because we hope to beat them and demonstrate that starting behind, as we did by a

couple of years, by God, we passed them. 

JAMES WEBB: I’d like to have more time to

talk about that because there is a wide public sentiment coming along this country for

preeminence in space. 

PRESIDENT KENNEDY: We do have to

talk about this. Because I think if this affects

in any way our sort of allocation of resources

and all the rest, then it is a substantive question and I think we’ve got to get it clarified.

I’d like to have you tell me in a brief . . . you

write me a letter, your views. I’m not sure that

we’re far apart. I think all these programs

which contribute to the lunar program, are,

come within, or contribute significantly or

really in a sense, let’s put it this way, are essential, put it that way . . . are essential to the

success of the lunar program, are justified.

Those that are not essential to the lunar 

program, that help contribute over a broad

spectrum to our preeminence in space, are

secondary. That’s my feeling. 

. . . ROBERT SEAMANS: Could I state my

view on this? I believe that we proceeded on

Mercury, and we’re now proceeding on

Gemini and Apollo as the number one program in NASA. It has a DX priority. Nothing

else has a DX priority. 

JAMES WEBB: And recommended four

point seven billion funds for it for 1964!

ROBERT SEAMANS: At the same time,

when you say something has top priority, in

my view it doesn’t mean that you completely

emasculate everything else if you run into

budget problems on the Apollo and Gemini.

Because you could very rapidly completely

eliminate your meteorological program, your

communications program and so on. If you

took that to too great of an extreme . . . .

JAMES WEBB: And the advanced technology

on which military power is going to be based. 

HUGH DRYDEN: Mr. President, I think this

is an issue. Suppose Apollo has an overrun of
international activity, with extensive summary and

conclusions sections. 

I came right to the point in the second paragraph of my nine-page letter: “The objective of our

national space program is to become pre-eminent 

in all important aspects of this endeavor and to 

conduct the program in such a manner that our

emerging scientific, technological, and operational

competence in space is clearly evident.”38

I then followed with paragraphs that detailed

what we had to do to become preeminent in space

science, advanced technology, and large-scale operations. I commented on the Apollo Program and

noted that the program would commence with

orbital maneuvers and culminate with the one-week

trip to the lunar surface. I further stated that for the

next five to six years, there would be significant

events by which the world would judge the competence of the United States in space. 

The summary recognized that in the views of

Mr. Webb, Dr. Dryden, and myself, the manned

lunar landing, although of highest national priority,

would not by itself create the preeminent position

we sought. It stated that our future interests in

terms of having an adequate scientific and technological base for future space activities demanded

that we provide a well-balanced program in all

areas, including those not already related to the

manned lunar landing. 

When the draft was complete, I called Jim at

home. He sometimes had severe migraine

headaches, and it’s not surprising that one occurred

at this time. We conferred in his home, with the

pages of my text spread across one end of his dining room table. He made few changes until the final

summary and conclusions. At that point, he started

writing quickly around margins and between lines.

For example, he added the following paragraph:

In aeronautical and space research, we now

have a program under way that will insure

that we are covering the essential areas of the

unknown. Perhaps of one thing only can we

five hundred million dollars, to reprogram

five hundred million dollars for the rest of

the space program would just throw the

whole thing away. And I think this is the

worry in Jim’s mind about top priority. 

PRESIDENT KENNEDY: Listen, I think in

the letter you ought to mention how the

other programs which the agency is carrying

out tie into the lunar program, and what

their connection is, and how essential they

are to the target dates we’re talking about,

and if they are only indirectly related, what

their contribution is to the general and specific things in space. Thank you very much.

Kennedy gets up to leave the room.37

President Kennedy and Webb obviously had

some difficulty in coming to grips with the other’s

point of view. The President ultimately recognized

that much of NASA’s scientific investigation was

essential to Apollo. But Jim Webb never agreed

with the President that “everything we do ought to

really be tied into getting onto the moon ahead of

the Russians.” Jim asked, “Why can’t it [our goal]

be tied to preeminence in space?” The President

replied that scientists may believe that the two are

connected, but not the people of the world who

know only that the Soviet Union has the biggest

rockets. But the President’s bottom line was

absolutely clear. He stated that Apollo was NASA’s

top priority, important for international and political reasons. He added that except for defense, it

was, along with one other, the top priority of the

U.S. government. 

Driving back to NASA Headquarters, I was

wondering how Jim’s views and those of the

President could be brought into concert. Hugh

interrupted my thoughts when he said he’d like to

prepare the first draft. Later, I received Hugh’s version, only a page and a half long and quite general

in nature. I attempted a different version, considerably more extensive, with separate sections for

manned lunar landing, space science, advanced

research technology, university participation, and

46 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

37. Transcript of “Presidential Meeting on Supplemental Appropriations for NASA, November 21, 1962,” John F. Kennedy

Presidential Library, Boston, MA. 

38. James E. Webb to President Kennedy, 30 November 1962, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.
be certain, that the ability to go into space

and return at will, increases the likelihood of

new basic knowledge, on the order of the

theory that led to nuclear fission.

I felt that this statement was a bit of a stretch

and wondered about Jerry Wiesner’s reaction. In

addition, Jim put in a plug for the 1964 budget

($6.6 billion), and in the end, he bowed low by saying that if the President felt we should go for the

supplemental in 1963, we would give our best

effort to its adoption. And it was signed, “With

much respect, believe me. Sincerely, James E. Webb,

Administrator.” The full text of the letter is printed

at the end of this book in appendix 2.

1962: Progress, 1963: Objective

I believe that the letter was an all-encompassing summary of policy and programs as viewed by

NASA management in the Kennedy years.

Remarkably, there was no further discussion of

these issues until President Kennedy visited Cape

Canaveral a year later. Whether from agreement,

exhaustion, or diversion, President Kennedy gave

tacit approval to NASA’s programs and policies by

not engaging with us in further discussions on the

questions of NASA’s top priority. Preeminence in

space on all fronts was our goal; landing men on

the Moon within the decade was the top (DX) priority. We were riding two horses.

The year 1962 might be termed the year of the

mission or perhaps the year of the spacecraft. After

considerable angst between NASA and the White

House, Mr. Webb announced the decision that

NASA would utilize Lunar Orbit Rendezvous as a

means for transporting men to the Moon and back.

The development of the Apollo capsule with its

supporting service module was well under way at

North American Aviation, and Grumman had initiated the design of the Lunar Module for descent to

and ascent from the lunar surface. Rendezvous

with the Apollo capsule, with its Earth-reentry

capability, was obviously essential.

As NASA took stock in 1963, there were three

manned Mercury orbital flights to their credit. In

addition to John Glenn, Scott Carpenter and Wally

Schirra had successfully orbited, and only one flight

remained—or would there be two? Faith 7

(Mercury 9) was scheduled for May 1963 with

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 47

Gordon Cooper at the helm. The objective of

Mercury 9 was to extend the time in orbit from 6

hours to a day, a result already achieved 21 months

earlier by cosmonaut Titov in Vostok 2.

Thursday, 9 May 1963, Faith 7

(MA-9), Gordon Cooper

Liftoff occurred at 8:00 a.m. Sixty seconds

upward, Gordo felt the oscillation of max-q and the

rate gyroscopes were giving readings from pin to

pin caused by the violent oscillations of the spacecraft. The flight smoothed, and at 3 minutes, the

cabin pressure was automatically sealed. Cooper

reported, “Faith 7 is all go.” For the next 2 minutes,

the Atlas sustainer rocket performed perfectly, and

at Mission Control, Schirra reported, “Smack dab

in the middle of the go plot.” “Beautiful,” Cooper

replied, “working like advertised.” From Guaymas,

Mexico, after one orbit, Grissom announced, “Go

for seven orbits.” As Cooper raced over the launch

site, Schirra complained, “You son of a gun, I’m

still higher and faster, but I have an idea you’re

going to go farther.” It was an auspicious start. 

By the third orbit, Cooper had checked his 11

planned experiments. He prepared to eject a 6-inch

sphere with a xenon strobe light. Cooper kicked the

switch but couldn’t see the flashing light in the dusk

or nighttime. However, he did spot the beacon on

the fourth orbit at sunset, and on the fifth and sixth

orbits, he also saw it flashing. 

He ate some bite-sized brownies and fruitcake,

kept up with his exercises, took oral temperature

and blood-pressure readings, and produced urine

samples periodically. The highest priority experiments were the aeromedical.

At the seventh orbit, he was pursuing radiation

experiments and transferring urine samples between

tanks. The hypodermic syringes were unwieldy and

leaked. He placed a message on the tape, “The liquid

has to be forced through the piping.” 

After 10 hours, Cooper was officially informed

that he was to go for 17 orbits. The flight had

become routine. He spent his last orbit before a rest

period having a supper of powdered roast beef

mush and some water. He took pictures of India

and Tibet, then prepared for a power-down so that

he could drift and dream. He was advised by the
goals. Why risk a mission of several days on a

Mercury spacecraft when Gemini was designed for

missions of two weeks or more? Gemini was behind

schedule and needed more focus by the Manned

Spacecraft Center, so why divert attention to a questionable objective? Admittedly, Gemini flights were

still several years away, but that was all the more

reason to emphasize this successor effort.39

Returning to Headquarters, I found events of

importance happening in rapid succession. Jim

Webb asked me if I’d care to participate in a reception for Gordo following the ticker-tape parade in

New York. I demurred because I had an appointment that day with George Mueller from

Thompson Ramo Woldridge (TRW). I had met him

before at TRW, but now I was going to explore the

possibility of his assuming a senior position at

NASA. It was a good meeting but without specifics.

He seemed interested in joining NASA in a key

position, and I thought he’d be a potential replacement for Brainerd Holmes, who had already

demonstrated poor judgment in pressing the case

for supplemental appropriation. However, the jury

was still out on his long-term reliability.

Not long thereafter, a luncheon was held in the

elegant reception facilities of the State Department.

Many individuals were congratulated for their contributions to the success of NASA’s Mercury program. It was a love-fest for all but Brainerd Holmes.

He called me afterward in high dudgeon because

although he ran manned space flight, his name 

hadn’t been mentioned. Well, I thought it would

have been better if he had been recognized, but 

I wasn’t in charge of naming honorees. I pointed

out that there were individuals like Francis W.

Reichelderfer, head of the Weather Bureau, whom

NASA wanted to recognize, rather than always patting itself on the back. He said, “Well, I’m certainly

not going to Mr. Webb’s lawn party.” (Mr. Webb

had invited many of those attending the luncheon

for an informal outdoor reception at his house.) I

suggested that Brainerd rethink his priorities, and

he did appear, but he had already stepped beyond

the bounds. His ego had done him in. He had been

out of line in going public on the need for a supplemental, as already discussed. I was concerned about

the impact of his present actions on the organization, so I met with Hugh and Jim. We decided that

telemetry command ship Rose Knot Victor near

Pitcairn Island to “settle down for a long rest.”

Sometime later, he did relax and fall into a sound

sleep; he awoke after an hour, and for the next 6

hours, he napped, took pictures, and taped reports. 

On the 16th orbit, Cooper took zodiacal light

photographs for University of Minnesota scientists

and snapped horizon-definition imprints around

the clock for MIT researchers. This latter information was needed for the design of the Apollo guidance and navigation system. On orbits 17 and 18, he

took infrared weather photographs of good quality.

He resumed the Geiger counter measurements for

radiation and continued his aeromedical duties.

On the 21st orbit, a short circuit occurred in a

buss bar serving the 250-volt main inverter. The

automatic control system was without power.

Cooper noticed that the carbon dioxide level was

rising in the cabin and in his suit. As he said to the

ground controller, “Things are beginning to stack

up a little.” He completed his checkout and prepared for a manual landing. Glenn gave him the 10-

second countdown, and the retrorockets were fired

on the mark. Glenn reported, “Right on the old

gazoo. It’s been a real fine flight. Real beautiful.

Have a cool reentry.” And that he did. 

Cooper landed 4 miles from the Kearsarge. As

an Air Force officer, he requested permission to be

hoisted aboard the Navy’s carrier. He next went

through arduous medical, technical, and operational debriefings aboard ship and back at the

Manned Space Center. He had lost 7 pounds, but

after drinking a few gallons of water, he was fine

mentally and physically. Cooper proved that man is

a pretty good backup for all the equipment on the

spacecraft.

My wife Gene was unavailable, so I took my 10-

year-old daughter May with me to the Cape for

Cooper’s triumphant return to Titusville. There was

a parade in which May and I rode with Cooper and

his wife in an open phaeton. However, at the press

conference, all was not sweetness and light. Were we

planning a Mercury 10 mission? This possibility had

never been presented to me in detail, but I was dead

set against it. We had jury-rigged our way with

Mercury and had successfully completed our stated

48 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

39. Swenson, Grimwood, and Alexander, This New Ocean, p. 495.
we’d had enough, and Jim called Art Malcarney,

Brainerd’s former boss, who immediately offered to

help Brainerd if we felt his role at NASA was irretrievable. We did, and later that day, I advised

Brainerd that it was time for him to resign. He didn’t

question the decision and was glad Art Malcarney

would help him back into the industrial world. He

resigned on 12 June 1963. In his two years at

NASA, Brainerd had placed NASA’s manned space

program on a fast track, and he returned to a successful career in industry. 

Sunday, 16 June 1963, Vostok 6,

Valentina Tereshkova

On 14 June, Valeriy Bykovskiy went into orbit

aboard Vostok 5 for nearly five days. Then, two

days later, on Vostok 6, Valentina Tereshkova

became the first woman to orbit Earth. Korolev had

a way of informing us that we still had strong competition. Tereshkova is shown in figure 12, along

with Yuri Gagarin and Aleksey Leonov. The United

States didn’t send a woman into orbit until the

Shuttle program, over 20 years later.40

George Mueller up to Bat

George Low and Joe Shea had been loyal, competent members of Brainerd’s Headquarters team. It

was essential to keep them involved during the

interregnum until Brainerd’s replacement was in

office, and thereafter as well. I had become deeply

concerned about the slow pace of the Saturn I’s

development. There had been four completely satisfactory launches of the Saturn I first stage. Why

hadn’t more significant missions been planned to

capitalize on that success? Or, as members of the

press were unkind enough to ask, why were we

spending hundreds of thousands of dollars placing

Canaveral sand and water into space? A review of

the launch schedule was definitely in order. I

worked closely with George and Joe on this and

other issues. 

On a personal note, my brother-in-law, Caleb

Loring, and I owned a series of boats together. Since

joining NASA, I had little time for sailing, but we

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 49

had planned to race our yawl, Serene, from

Marblehead to Halifax, Nova Scotia, early in July.

The race takes two to three days, and then, after

reprovisioning, the return to the Maine coast

requires another four to five days. I’d wondered

about leaving NASA in its somewhat perilous state,

but Jim Webb had convinced me that we all need

rest and relaxation (R&R), and the race had been

planned with others months before. And so it happened; we left Nova Scotia in thick fog that lasted

until we approached Rocque Island, off the Maine

coast, on a sunny morning. We were soon spotted

by the crew aboard a fleet of yachts who hailed us

and said that Mr. Webb awaited my phone call.

(Ship-to-ship communications could be picked up

by anybody tuned to the particular frequency, and

the responses were also on an open circuit.) One of

the motor-sailors in the fleet had a high-powered

radio telephone, so I climbed aboard and called

Washington. Jim had left a phone number to call so

that when we discussed George Mueller, we had, in

effect, a private line. Jim told me that he and Hugh

had interviewed George Mueller and felt he was

qualified to manage the manned space program. I

readily agreed. George Mueller was sworn in as

Holmes’s successor on 23 July.

After George arrived, he soon realized that

Headquarters was thinly staffed with competent

senior managers. He arrived with a list of six or

seven officers with whom he had previously

worked. Key was Major General Samuel Phillips,

who had managed the Minuteman development

under General Bernard Schriever. He was extremely

competent, and I wasn’t certain that the Air Force

could or would spare this talent. However, assignment of military personnel to NASA was recognized by Congress as desirable and was permitted

for limited numbers in congressional legislation.

General Bozo McKee had been Vice Chief of Staff

under General LeMay, and he was now on Jim

Webb’s staff. George’s recommendation was

reviewed by Bozo and Jim. They readily agreed, and

thanks to Bozo, the transfers soon took place. It

was a tremendously important benefit to NASA. 

It can be said that George was not a person to

accept past decisions as a given. In particular, he

decide to review the flight schedule, tasking two old

40. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1963: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4004, 1964),

p. 244.
50 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 12. Three cosmonauts: Gagarin, the first in space; Tereshkova, the first woman; and Leonov, the first to perform an extravehicular activity.
THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 51

hands, John Disher and Del Tischler—the first

knowledgeable in spacecraft, the second in rockets

and launch vehicles. George wanted an unbiased,

fresh look. Two weeks later, George was appalled

by their findings. They estimated a late 1971 date

with a launch within the decade only at unacceptable risk. They immediately came to my office for a

similar briefing. When it was over, I took George

aside and told him to bury the Disher-Tischler

review and create a new program with an acceptable outcome. George was prepared to put forth a

radical plan for this purpose. The plan was managerial as well as procedural, and it took into

account Congress’s reduction of the President’s

1964 request from $5.7 billion to $5.1 billion.41

We were perilously close to losing control of

the program, which placed George in the driver’s

seat. First, he insisted that the three major Centers

in Houston, in Huntsville, and at the Cape should

report directly to him. Second, internal to this

group, George was the chief executive officer and

chairman of the board. The Gemini director, Chuck

Mathews; Apollo director, Sam Phillips; and Apollo

Application director, E. Z. Grays, all reported to

him. At their management reviews, he was the

board chairman, with Gilruth, von Braun, and

Debus as board members. The project directors

were in the Centers. For example, Joe Shea moved

to Houston, where he became director of the

Apollo capsule and the Lunar Module. There

would be no counterparting. Sam Phillips didn’t

have an Apollo capsule staff person in his office; he

worked directly with Joe Shea, as can be seen in figure 30. Each program director had five staff officers, as did the project directors. These were

responsible for program control, systems engineering, test, reliability and quality, and flight operations. The two staffs worked closely together.

Reductions in the budget included eliminating four

Saturn I manned orbital missions. And, of course,

the Nova vehicle was no longer required. But these

reductions alone would be insufficient to control

the budget and to achieve a landing within the

decade.

A step-by-step approach adding elements in

sequential flights coupled with repeated flights of

the final configuration would not, according to

George, build reliability into the system. The best

opportunity for reliability and success would come

from careful design, redundancy where possible,

component quality control, and systems testing. I

agreed. As the stages were assembled one by one

and then coupled with the spacecraft, the system

would be checked out by the same instruments,

monitors, and people that would be responsible for

the go-ahead on launch day. Finally, on launch day,

in the 2-minute period prior to ignition, all key

items would be automatically checked to be certain

that the readings were within prescribed tolerances.

With this procedure, it is only sensible to plan on

success. If the first stage is going to do its job, have

the second included, and so on, until an all-up systems test is achieved on the first attempt. I was present at Launch Control when Saturn V was launched

the first time. Not only did all launch systems perform flawlessly, but Apollo and the service module

did also. The Lunar Lander was not yet available,

but it would have been included if checked out. 

Now, George created quite a stir with his

revised program. Words like impossible, reckless,

incredulous, harebrained, and nonsense could be

heard behind the scenes. After announcing the plan

to the manned spaceflight team, George followed

up immediately with detailed schedules. George

didn’t sell; he dictated—and without his direction,

Apollo would not have succeeded. 

Kennedy’s Last Visit to the Cape

One evening in mid-November 1963, just

before leaving my office, I received a call telling me

that President Kennedy was thinking of a trip to

Cape Canaveral. The White House is always careful never to be too explicit about a presidential trip.

Following this, I received a call from Major General

Chester V. Clifton, military aide to the President,

who gave me more details. He said that the

President wanted to get a feel for how we were progressing and that he would have about 2 hours.

What did we recommend? 

Julian Scheer, NASA’s public affairs officer,

came down to my office, and several of us sketched

a map on the blackboard indicating where the

President might land, what he might see up close,

and what he might fly over. Naturally, we kept Jim

41. Table 4.4, “Requests, Authorization, Appropriations, Obligations and Disbursements,” p. 131, and table 4.13, “Funding NASA’s

Program FY1962,” both in NASA Historical Data Book.
Jim and General Davis. They drove by the various

complexes rather slowly. We joined them inside the

blockhouse at Complex 37, where a Saturn launch

vehicle was soon to be tested. There was about a

15-minute briefing there with all kinds of models.

The President seemed quite interested in what

George Mueller had to say. When the briefing was

over, he stood up and went over to the models. He

expressed amazement that the models were all to

the same scale, because the Mercury launch vehicle

was completely dwarfed by the Saturn V. This may

have been the first time he fully realized the dimensions of future NASA projects. 

We then went out to the pad where the Saturn

SA-5 (the fifth Saturn I) was undergoing tests.

Figure 13 shows President Kennedy with Dr. von

Braun, discussing the Saturn and its dimensions.

Before leaving, President Kennedy wanted to walk

Webb informed. We felt that the President couldn’t

cover it all without the use of a helicopter because

a couple of bridges connecting the Cape with

Merritt Island were not yet completed. I called

General Clifton back, and there ensued a series of

phone calls and discussions of other opportunities

for the President while at the Cape, among them a

review of the Navy’s Polaris missiles. 

The next morning, 16 November 1963, the

President flew from Palm Beach to the Cape, where

he was greeted by Major General Leighton I. “Lee”

Davis and Dr. Debus, the respective heads of military and NASA operations at the Cape, as well as

by Jim Webb and me. He was accompanied by

Senator George A. Smathers of Florida, a good

friend of his. The President said, with a smile, “I’m

surprised to see you all here so early on a Saturday

morning.” Then he stepped into an open car with

52 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 13. Dr. Wernher von Braun explains the Saturn I with its hydrogen upper stage to President John F. Kennedy. NASA

Associate Administrator Robert Seamans is to the left of von Braun. President Kennedy gave his approval to proceed with this

launch vehicle at his first budget meeting with the Agency on 12 March 1961. (NASA Image Number 64P-0145, also available at

http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/ GPN-2000-001843.html)
over and stand right underneath the Saturn. This

evidently had come up for discussion with the

Secret Service the previous day. They hadn’t wanted

him to get too close to the rocket. But no matter

what anybody thought, President Kennedy was

going to go and stand under the Saturn. “Now,” he

said, “this will be the largest payload that man has

ever put into orbit? Is that right?”

“Yes,” we said, “that’s right.” 

He said, “That is very, very significant.”

I then climbed into the President’s helicopter,

which had been flown down from Washington on a

transport plane for his use. My job was to sit with

him as we flew over the new construction area on

Merritt Island and to point out the future locations

of such things as the Vertical Assembly Building

and the launchpads (Complex 39). At the time,

1,800 pilings had been driven into the sand to support the assembly building. Afterwards, we flew

about 50 miles offshore to watch a live test of a

Polaris missile. Admiral I. J. Gallatin, who was in

charge of the Polaris program, described what the

President was about to see, which led to a discussion of the whole concept of nuclear submarines, a

classified matter about which the President was

clearly interested and knowledgeable. We landed on

the deck of a waiting ship. The President hopped

out vigorously. In honor of his visit, he was presented with a Navy jacket, which, as a naval hero

of World War II, he happily put on. He was obviously enjoying himself. 

Then, as planned, President Kennedy gave the

order to fire the missile. There was a countdown . . .

then a hold! I could feel the tension in the Navy 

personnel there, and I also noticed a couple of 

Air Force and Army men winking at each other. 

The President stood watching with binoculars.

Fortunately, another Polaris missile was on hand,

and the launch was shifted to the backup. When the

missile breached the water, we could see that it had

“Beat Army” printed on its side. We got back in the

helicopter, and the President wore his Navy jacket

for the rest of the trip. 

On the way back, he brought up the matter of

the Saturn SA-5. “Now, I’m not sure I have the facts

straight on this,” he said. “Will you tell me about it

again?” I explained (among other things) that the

usable payload was 19,000 pounds, but that we

actually would have 38,000 pounds in orbit. 

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 53

“What is the Soviet capability?” President

Kennedy asked. I told him that their payload

weighed less than 10,000 pounds. “That’s very

important,” he said. “Now be sure that the press

really understands that this vehicle has greater capability than the Soviets’. In particular . . . ,” he said,

mentioning one reporter by name. Just before we

landed, he called General Clifton and said, “Will you

be sure that Dr. Seamans has a chance to explain 

to . . .” (here he mentioned the reporter’s name again). 

We got off the helicopter and walked quickly

over to the President’s plane. He shook hands with

Jim and the others, then turned back to me and

said, “Now you won’t forget to do this, will you?”

I said I would be sure to talk to the reporter. “In

addition,” he said, “I wish you’d get on the press

plane we have down here and tell the reporters

about the payload.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I’ll do that.”

Six days later, on Friday, 22 November, I was

holding a meeting in my office when I got a call

from Nina Scrivener, Jim Webb’s secretary. She said,

“Something dreadful has happened in Dallas. You’d

better come on up to Jim’s office.” 

“You mean the President’s been hurt?”

She said, “It may be worse than that.”

I closed down the meeting very quickly, then called

Gene. “Watch the news,” I said. “ I don’t think we’re

going to be having that NASA gathering tonight.”

Jim Webb had three televisions in his office so

that he could have all three networks going at once

and flip on the sound of the one he wanted to hear.

We sat there watching all three networks. Finally,

Walter Cronkite came on and said that the President

had died. Gene arrived at the office a little later to

distribute the food we had planned to serve at dinner. 

We had scheduled our regular monthly program

review for the following day. I argued strenuously

that we ought to go ahead with the meeting, that

President Kennedy had given the Apollo Program a

DX priority and that he would have wanted us to

press ahead. As a result, we were probably the only

federal government organization doing business that

day. When the review was over, Jim turned to Hugh

and said, “I’m going over to the White House. Do

you and Bob want to come along?”
National Cemetery and I have the Cape. I

don’t care what people say. I want that

flame, and I wanted his name on just that

one booster, the one that would put us ahead

of the Russians . . . that’s all I wanted. 

I’m going to bring up my son. I want him to

grow up to be a good boy. I have no better

dream for him. I want John-John to be a fine

young man. He’s so interested in planes;

maybe he’ll be an astronaut or just plain

John Kennedy fixing planes on the ground.43

President Kennedy’s assassination had a profound impact on the peoples of the world, particularly on those working closely with him in the 

government. Those responsible for launching the

Saturn SA-5, which he had observed and commented on during his inspection in November,

wanted some way to express their gratitude for his

interest and their grief for his loss. Rumors were

rampant that special markings would be placed on

the Saturn, which led to the implementation of special security provisions. In the aftermath of the successful launching, while still in the blockhouse, we

all felt such an emotional upwelling that there was

a near-unanimous request for a call to Mrs.

Kennedy. I felt, perhaps wrongly, that such a call

would be upsetting for her, and I suggested instead

that I carry the sentiments of those involved in the

launch back to her in person. 

When I returned to Washington, I contacted

Walter Sohier, NASA’s General Counsel and a

friend of the Kennedys’. He didn’t think Mrs.

Kennedy would be interested in a visit, so imagine

his surprise when he and I were invited for tea the

following afternoon! Mrs. Kennedy was very gracious, sat patiently as I explained the circumstances

of our being there, brought in her children (both

recovering from chicken pox), and sent us away

exhilarated by our encounter. 

My letter to her of 7 February 1964, which 

follows below, is self-explanatory, but her response

of 14 March was unexpected and is deserving of

comment. Following her husband’s death, Mrs.

Kennedy had had little time in which to move out

of the White House into a house on N Street, 

The three of us and our spouses stood in line in

the East Room, where the President was lying in

state. Everyone wore black. The casket was closed

and draped with a flag, with a Marine standing at

attention by its side. There was immense grief on

every face, and many significant symbols, such as

the Great Seal of the United States of America over

the door, were draped in black. There were no flowers, no music, only the murmur of hushed voices

and the shuffle of feet. It was the saddest place and

the saddest time of our lives. 

A year after Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’s

death in 1994, the Boston Globe carried a verbatim transcript of the interview she gave Teddy

White soon after President Kennedy’s assassination. Teddy White was a well-known historian and

author of the book series The Making of the

President. Life magazine requested the interview,

and Mrs. Kennedy agreed, provided that Teddy

White was the interviewer. He was contacted late

in the afternoon in Cambridge and was rushed to

the Kennedy compound in Hyannis. Life was

holding the presses for the article, and so directly

after the interview, Teddy dictated the article in

Mrs. Kennedy’s presence. The article featured her

vision of her husband’s administration as Camelot

and omitted her rather extensive discussion of the

space program. 

Here are excerpts from the transcript, which

appeared first in the Globe on 28 May 1995:

McNamara changed the name at the Cape

[Canaveral].42 Jack was so interested in the

Saturn Booster. All I wanted was Jack’s name

signed on the side of the nose of the booster

somehow where no one would even notice.

McNamara said that wasn’t dignified. But

then he changed the name of the Cape itself

so that everything that goes to the sky, goes

from there. 

But I can’t see changing the name of something like Sixth Avenue [in New York City].

I don’t want to go out on a Kennedy

Driveway to a Kennedy Airport to visit a

Kennedy School. And besides, I’ve got everything I want; I have that flame in Arlington

54 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

42. Geographic names cannot readily be changed, but Mrs. Kennedy received her wish. NASA’s launch facility at the Cape is now

called the John F. Kennedy Space Center.

43. Transcript of Teddy White’s interview with Jacqueline Kennedy, Boston Globe (28 May 1995).
in Georgetown, loaned to her by a friend.

Remarkably, she started immediately to reply to 

the huge number of people who had attended the

funeral service or offered their condolences in other

ways. My wife Gene was among the many who volunteered their assistance. Hence, Mrs. Kennedy’s

personal response to my visit and letter is truly

remarkable. First, my letter:

February 7, 1964

Mrs. John F. Kennedy

Washington, D.C.

Dear Mrs. Kennedy:

Thank you for the pleasant visit you afforded

us Monday evening. It meant a great deal to

me to be able to tell you about the recent

Saturn launch from the John F. Kennedy

Space Center.

The accompanying detailed engineering

model of the actual Saturn launched on

January 29th is presented to you with appreciation from all of us. It was utilized by Dr.

Wernher von Braun and the staff of the

George C. Marshall Space Flight Center which

has responsibility for the Saturn development. 

Having seen young John’s interest in space

toys, and having barely escaped from your

home with the other model that I brought, I

am also sending some fairly sturdy launch

vehicle models for his enjoyment.

Sincerely, 

Robert C. Seamans, Jr.

Assoc. Administrator44

THE KENNEDY CHALLENGE 55

44. Robert C. Seamans to Jacqueline Kennedy, 7 February 1964, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

45. Jacqueline Kennedy to Robert C. Seamans, 14 March 1964, Robert Channing Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

Following is her reply:

Mrs. John F. Kennedy

March 14, 1964

Dear Dr. Seamans,

I do thank you for that most precious model

of the Saturn—the one that Wernher von

Braun and everyone worked on—(I could

not believe my eyes when Walter Sohier

brought it). 

John had a fleeting happy look at it—and

then I sent it to Archives—to go in Jack’s

library. 

Your thoughtfulness has touched me so

much—that you would wish to come—and

tell me about the Saturn booster—and think

of calling me from the blockhouse when it

was going off. All I care about is that people

still remember what Jack did—and you were

always thinking of him. 

Then when you came and saw John—it was

so kind of you to see how a little boy who

had grown up so close to a father who

always had exciting new plane and rocket

models in his office to show him—who took

him on his most cherished plane and helicopter rides—would still care so much about all

those things—and feel so cut off now that

they are no longer a part of his life. 

Those “heavy duty” models that you sent him

are his joy—taken apart and put together constantly—I do thank you more than I can say,

for your thoughtfulness to him and to me—

Sincerely, 

Jacqueline Kennedy45

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 57

Communications for Mission

Control

Starting with Gemini 4, NASA controlled

manned orbital missions from Mission

Control in the Manned Spacecraft Center in

Houston, Texas. Up until then, the network had

consisted of 12 ground stations and several ships.

At each station, there was a full complement of

communicators, doctors, and engineers to work

with the capsule crew overhead. This duplication

was necessitated by the fact that there was no wideband communication back and forth through the

network and, hence, to the spacecraft. President

Kennedy’s first supplemental in 1961 contained

$10 million for communication satellites, and $50

million was added to the second supplemental. In

the fall of 1961, a sole-source contract was negotiated with Hughes Aircraft for a small, spinning,

geosynchronous satellite. Keith had acquainted me

Chapter 4:

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT

with its proposal on my second day at NASA when

he took me to lunch at the White House mess. Now

that the funds were available, Hughes’s concept,

called Syncom, would be put to the test.

Incidentally, the $10 million was used for a lower

altitude satellite called Relay under contract to

RCA. We also had an agreement with AT&T to

launch its satellite, Telstar, on a reimbursable basis.

However, both Relay and Telstar would require 20

to 25 satellites to obtain world coverage. The second launch of Hughes’s small, spinning, synchronous satellite was successful and was adopted by

Intellsat, an international communication agency,

and Comsat, Intellsat’s agent for its first prototype.

Comsat adopted the Syncom concept and contracted with Hughes Aircraft for Early Bird, the

heart of the first satellite communication system to

be commercialized. And Comsat’s first major contract for communication services was with NASA.

With three geosynchronous Early Birds spaced
around the equator, NASA was provided with continuous worldwide broadband communications

throughout the Gemini and Apollo Programs. 

International Business Machines’

360-75 Computer

Bob Gilruth, the head of the Manned Space

Center, came to Washington to inform

Headquarters that Mission Control had insufficient

computer capacity for lunar operations. The only

solution, he maintained, was to buy five

International Business Machines (IBM) 360-75

computers for $60 million. At least three other

companies had mainframe computers—Sperry,

Control Data, and RCA—and if we went solesource to IBM, those companies would probably

complain to the Government Accounting Office

(GAO). This action could lead to a GAO investigation, with a delay in entering negotiations with IBM

or possibly an upset with a requirement for open

biding. Bob explained that IBM claimed that it had

already spent $10 million of its own funds on programming efforts for NASA. We asked Bob if the

computers were catalog items. He thought so and

believed that the company had already sold a few,

but that was insufficient rationale for a sole-source

contract. 

Jim Webb stepped into the breach. In the course

of one week, the CEOs of all four contractors were

invited to NASA Headquarters on separate days.

They could bring whomever they wished. The situation was explained to each. NASA wanted a fixedprice contract for any computer that would satisfy

its operational needs. The delivery date would have

to be specified, with penalties for late delivery. Each

contractor was free to spend whatever time they

needed at the Manned Spacecraft Center to learn

NASA’s requirements. Both RCA and Sperry bowed

out, saying they’d like to be considered for the

peripherals. Control Data spent a month at Houston

before advising NASA that it was in no position to

bid. So IBM received $60 million for five 360-75s,

and the contract was upheld.

Gemini Shake-Up 

Originally, Jim Chamberlain had directed

Gemini, back in the days when it was still Mercury

II. During his tenure, the configuration evolved into

a two-man spacecraft with a flight capability of up

to two weeks. Jim commenced the negotiations

with McDonnell, but he became obsessed with the

use of Gemini for the manned lunar landing mission. His actions created sufficient diversion at the

Manned Spacecraft Center that he was replaced,

and Chuck Mathews took charge of the project. 

George Mueller inherited the Gemini Program

that was to be run by NASA and McDonnell

Aircraft in the same fashion as Mercury. On average, Mercury flights took place every five months.

With 12 flights planned (two unmanned), it would

take five years to complete the program, or stated

differently, commencing in 1964, Gemini would not

be complete until 1969—hardly in time to be of

assistance to Apollo if flights occurred at the same

pace as those of Mercury. Examination of Mercury

procedures showed George that each capsule was

built in St. Louis by McDonnell and tested there by

NASA. The capsules were then shipped to Cape

Canaveral, where another team of McDonnell and

NASA employees tore them down for inspection

and returned them after reassembly. The launch

team didn’t want to be responsible for an unfamiliar or nonworking spacecraft. George decreed that

one team would assemble and inspect the capsule in

St. Louis, move with the capsule to the Cape, reinspect for shipping damage, mate the capsule with

the Titan launch vehicle, and assist in the launch.

There was nearly a year’s gap between Gemini 1

and 2, but after that, Gemini launches occurred

about every two months. Gemini 12, the final

flight, took place on 11 November 1966, well in

time to provide lessons learned for the Apollo

Program. 

George Mueller brought a new style to NASA,

but he also inherited personnel who were willing

and able to follow his lead. This capability was certainly manifested in Charles “Chuck” Mathews, a

former member of the research staff with whom I’d

worked in days of yore. The purpose of Gemini was

to gain operational experience by using Mercurylike assets. The team at McDonnell Aircraft moved

smartly into the new scaled-up Gemini configuration, which had a shape and heatshield similar to

those of Mercury. However, Titan II could place

nearly 9,000 pounds into orbit compared to the

Atlas. Mercury could weigh only 4,400 pounds.

The expansion in size and weight allowed Gemini

to have considerably greater capability than its

predecessor Mercury.

58 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Tuesday, 23 March 1965, Gemini

3, Virgil Grissom and John Young

On the initial flight launch, Mission Control

was still in the Mercury building at Cape

Canaveral, and the world tracking stations were

also the same as before. With President Johnson in

the White House, Vice President Hubert H.

Humphrey became the Chairman of the Space

Council. Just before leaving for the Gemini 3

launch, I found out that the Vice President was

going to attend with one of his sons. Mr. Webb was

strongly opposed to his presence. He felt that there

were risks in every space mission and that the Vice

President could be placed in an awkward position

of major media exposure with insufficient knowledge of the subject. 

However, Humphrey was an easy VIP to escort.

He said he didn’t want special privileges for his son,

so I arranged for him to be with my sons, Toby and

Joe, at the media briefing. The Vice President and I

were in Mission Control. We were seated on a balcony overlooking the professionals at their consoles. There were world charts on the wall showing

different orbits and Gemini’s progress. Chris Kraft

was the Mission Director. Humphrey had trained as

a pharmacist in his earlier days, so he was particularly interested in the medical testing of the astronauts

and the instruments they carried on their bodies. 

After liftoff, I walked the Vice President onto the

floor of Mission Control to meet Chris Kraft and his

team. In introducing Chris, I said, “Can you imagine

naming someone Christopher Columbus Kraft?” 

The Vice President responded, “Can you imagine parents naming a son Hubert Horatio

Humphrey?” A good time was had by all on the

floor of Mission Control. Then there was a hiatus

of a few hours before a scheduled press conference

following the successful reentry and recovery of the

two astronauts, Gus Grissom and John Young. 

I escorted the Vice President to the briefing,

which, after a successful three-orbit flight of 4

hours and 53 minutes, would be quite pro forma.

However, the old warrior was somewhat overwhelmed at the media’s size and interest. As we

approached the main tent, large, portable generators were throbbing, and as we entered, we were

illuminated by many flashbulbs. I started the press

conference by welcoming everyone to the successful

initiation of the Gemini Program. I introduced the

Vice President, who spoke briefly, and then it was

on to the flight particulars. Questions were easily

handled, and soon it was goodbye to the Vice

President and his son. 

I stayed at the Cape for the debriefing when the

astronauts returned to the Cape the next morning.

That morning, by sheer chance, Ranger 9 was

plowing into the Moon, and the lunar photographs

were displayed live on morning TV. Ranger had

been such a trying project for NASA’s Jet

Propulsion Laboratory (JPL). There had been a

series of launch vehicle and spacecraft failures. For

example, it was a glorious night in Washington,

with a full Moon, when Ranger 6 approached the

lunar surface with high expectations. Unfortunately,

a relay failed to function, the cameras weren’t initiated, and no photographs of the Moon were taken. 

The resulting publicity was most unfavorable

to JPL. A thorough investigation was conducted,

and a variety of equipment and procedural changes

were recommended and executed. The final three

Ranger missions were entirely successful, so I was

most happy for JPL when I viewed Ranger’s final

detailed lunar photography on a Holiday Inn TV set. 

Soon thereafter, I received a phone call advising

me of the awards ceremony to take place at the

White House in a few days. I was to receive the

NASA Distinguished Medal along with Grissom

and Young. Whom did I wish to attend? I obviously

suggested my wife Gene, our five children, and my

mother and father, as well as Gene’s sister Romey

and her husband Caleb. I heard later that I had

overreached a bit, but they all were invited, and all

came except for our daughter Kathy and her husband Lou. They had been at Cape Canaveral to see

the Gemini launching and had stopped by my motel

at 6:00 a.m., but by then I was long gone. They had

left no message as to their whereabouts. 

I was, of course, both surprised and pleased to

be one of the three honorees at the White House

ceremony. After the formal awards, the media

asked for photographs of the astronauts, their families, and President and Mrs. Johnson. As the

Youngs were returning to their seats, Mr. Webb

stood up and said, “Don’t forget the Seamanses.”

So we trooped up and had our time in the Sun with

the Johnsons. Toby, Joe, and May were quite grown

up, but Dan was only six and looked quite startled

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 59
by the klieg lights. The photos of us all in our local

papers had the small boy in the foreground, erroneously identified in the caption as the son of John

Young. As Mother said when she sent the clipping,

“Doesn’t he look a lot like Daniel?” And, of course,

he was.

The media loved the astronauts. They were

fun, skilled, adventuresome heroes, but Jim Webb

thought that others also were making major contributions and should share in the glory. For that

reason, Gene and I flew to New York with the

astronauts, their wives, and Vice President

Humphrey. Unfortunately, ticker tape gets pretty

soggy on a rainy day, but we drove up Broadway

in open cars for an awards ceremony at City Hall.

This event was followed by a meeting with U

Thant at the United Nations, a lunch with Mayor

Wagner, and a gala reception at the Waldorf. I

believe I shook hands with several thousand people, and my tennis elbow was none the worse.

With perhaps a little arm-twisting, Jim Webb got

his wish to have other professionals honored alongside the astronauts, and I was the beneficiary. 

Five days before the Gemini 3 mission, Aleksey

Leonov had stepped outside of Voskhod 2 for the

first extravehicular activity (EVA). One of the principal reasons for Gemini was to gain experience

with EVA. If the Lunar Lander successfully conducted a rendezvous with the lunar orbit capsule

but couldn’t dock for mechanical or other reasons,

the crew who had landed on the Moon could transfer to the return capsule by EVA. The Gemini team

advised me that they were prepared to conduct an

extravehicular experiment and asked whether I

could visit Houston to review their effort.1

Thursday, 3 June 1965, Gemini 4,

James McDivitt and Edward White II

During my visit, I had an opportunity to experiment with the handheld maneuver unit, which had

four small jets several feet apart and aimed in the

same direction. There was no combustion; rather,

gas forced from the jets provided the thrust. Aiming

the jets in one direction, the astronauts would move

in the opposite. The testing at Houston was done

on an air-supported, friction-free platform, obviously

in only two dimensions. Even a neophyte like me

could maneuver about quite naturally and easily. I

returned to Washington prepared to recommend

the EVA test on Gemini 4. Hugh Dryden was quite

opposed. He felt that the experiment was juryrigged in fast response to the Soviets. I wrote a careful memo to Jim stating that we entailed risk every

time we sent astronauts into orbit and that there

should be an attempt to accomplish as much as possible on each mission. I added that I felt that the

team in Houston, including the astronauts, had the

necessary equipment and were well prepared for its

use. The memo came back to me as “approved.” 

Gemini 4 was a great success, achieving all

objectives and providing photos of Ed White outside the capsule. These photos can still be seen

today in public displays. Ed was able to maneuver

with the handheld unit to the extent of his tether

(see figure 14). After 10 minutes, when asked to

reenter the capsule, Ed was lollygagging a bit while

expounding upon the sensational view. He then

found it more difficult to move himself and his equipment into the capsule than expected, but finally the

capsule was secure and repressurized. The astronauts failed to conduct stationkeeping and rendezvous activities with the second stage of the

launch vehicle, but they executed prescribed inplane and out-of-plane maneuvers, as well as 11

small experiments. Mr. Webb and I picked up Ed

and Jim at the airport prior to the briefing and

awards ceremony at the Manned Spacecraft Center.

He invited them to sit with him in the backseat so

that he could let them know that their attitude had

been too carefree and undisciplined during the

EVA. He was obviously displeased. However, all

was forgiven at the Center briefing and, later, at the

Rose Garden ceremony with the President. The mission also successfully demonstrated the new mission

control capability at the Manned Spacecraft Center. 2

The Oval Office and the LBJ Ranch

One day in late August, I had just played tennis

and was in the shower when Gene pulled the curtain aside and said that the President was on the

phone. I picked up the phone while dripping water

60 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

1. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini 3 Flight,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).

2. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini 4 Flight,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).
zero with his forefinger, he asked, “What do you

think is most important to me?” And then he gave

the emphatic answer, “It’s peace, Seamans, it’s

peace!” I began to see the light. Politicians love to

include astronauts in community and even worldwide events. We had Gemini 5 in orbit with Pete

Conrad and Gordo Cooper aboard. But the President

didn’t tip his hand. He said, “I want you to call 

within the hour and tell me that Jim Webb will at my

ranch in Texas to go to church this Sunday morning

with me and Dean [Rusk].” I told him that Jim was

having a well-deserved weekend in North Carolina

with his family. His response was clear: “Jim is the

best damn administrator in Washington; tell me

within the hour he’ll be there.” Fortunately, I reached

Jim, who said he’d be there, but he wanted me to be

there as well. When I called the President and told

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 61

on the carpet. The White House operator said,

“Just a minute, the President.” 

On he came: “Good morning, Bob, I just wondered if you would care to visit me today on my

birthday?”

I answered, “Yes, sir.” I arrived at the White

House for our noon meeting but didn’t enter the

Oval Office until an hour later. When I entered, the

President was reading the news on his ticker tape

and finally turned to me. 

“Seamans, sit over there.” He then proceeded

to say, “Seamans, you guys at NASA are good with

your science and know how to work the Hill, but

for me you’re a great big zero.” As he made a large

Figure 14. On 3 June 1965, Edward H. White II became the first American to step outside his spacecraft and let go, effectively 

setting himself adrift in the zero gravity of space. For 23 minutes, White floated and maneuvered himself around the Gemini spacecraft while logging 6,500 miles during his orbital stroll. (NASA Image Number 565-30431, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/

ABSTRACTS/GPN-2000-001181.html)
him Jim’s wish, he said, “Why, of course, Bob, come

too and bring your family.” I thanked him and said

that only Jim and I would be present. 

Saturday, 21 August 1965,

Gemini 5, Gordon Cooper and

Charles “Pete” Conrad, Jr.

We arrived at Johnson’s ranch Saturday evening

and had a meeting with the President and his press

secretary, Bill Moyer. The President discussed his

plans for the astronauts to visit Greece, Turkey, and

several African countries. He then had Bill Moyer

read his press release for Sunday morning and asked

for comments. After some discussion, we concurred,

and Sunday morning before church, the President sat

outdoors with the media present and called the astronauts to congratulate them on their eight-day trip. He

also advised them of their upcoming goodwill trip. 

Gemini was in orbit for nearly eight days, the

longest duration manned flight to date. During the

flight, the astronauts completed a wide variety of

medical and observational experiments. Six were for

the Department of Defense. A Radar Evaluation Pad

was ejected for radar checks, and for the first time, a

fuel cell was used as the source of electrical power.3

Mission 76: Saturday, 4

December 1965, Gemini 7, and

Wednesday, 15 December 1965,

Gemini 6

The 76 mission involved two spacecraft. Gemini

7 was scheduled for 14 days in orbit, with Frank

Borman and Jim Lovell as crew. Originally, Tom

Stafford and Wally Schirra were to rendezvous and

dock with an Agena unmanned capsule. When the

Agena failed to get into orbit, the mission was

scrubbed and replaced with a mission for rendezvous

with Gemini 7 instead. Since Titan II had only one

launchpad, only one week instead of the usual two

months was available to clear the pad after Gemini

7’s liftoff and refit the facility for Gemini 6. Time had

to be allowed for erecting the launch vehicle, mating

it with the capsule, and checking out the assembly.

The schedule for the launchpad was programmed

hour by hour, night and day, for the full week. I

reviewed the plans, and they appeared tight but feasible. Frank Borman and Jim Lovell lifted off on 4

December and had been in orbit eight days when, on

Sunday morning, 12 December, engine ignition

commenced and, within a second, was turned off.

No one understood the reason why. It turned out

that a plug that was supposed to open at liftoff fell

off a few seconds early due to the engine vibration.

President Johnson called Jim Webb an hour later and

said that he was very disturbed by the failure. When

Mr. Webb called me, I said that the President should

be very proud of the cool heads that didn’t panic. At

ignition, all pyrotechnics are armed for separations,

the umbilical arms are separated from the vehicle,

and the fuel and oxidizer are flowing. An explosion

might occur. The crew could have ejected. Instead,

they worked with the ground crew and followed

planned procedures, and there was still a chance for

a successful mission. 

Gemini 6, with Wally Schirra in command and

Tom Stafford as pilot, was successfully launched on

15 December. They conducted their orbital maneuvers step by step. After 5 hours and 15 minutes,

Gemini 6 was slightly below and 37 miles behind

Gemini 7. Tom Stafford flew Gemini 6 to within 2

feet of Gemini 7 and then proceeded to inspect

Gemini 7 from all directions (see figure 15). Gemini

7 then did the maneuvering. All hands took turns

controlling the vehicles, and then the spacecraft

were parked 30 miles apart so that all could sleep.

Much valuable data information came from what

became known as Mission 76. Foremost were the

medical information from the 14 days in flight and

the orbital experience of rendezvous and formation

flying. Many awards were made and were rightly

deserved by the astronauts, Deke Slayton, and the

facility technicians. (Deke was one of the first seven

astronauts; he was grounded by a heart defect and

became the astronauts’ manager.) However, actual

docking was still to be achieved.4

The Loss of Hugh Dryden

On 2 December 1965, Hugh Dryden died after

a protracted battle with cancer. President Johnson

said, “The death of Dr. Dryden is a deep personal

loss. No soldier ever performed his duty with more

bravery and no statesman ever charted new courses

62 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

3. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini 5 Flight,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).

4. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini VII/Gemini VI-Long Duration Rendezvous Missions,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967). 
with more dedication.” Vice President Humphrey

was most prescient when he noted, “We shall miss

him [Dr. Dryden] sorely as we plot our course for

the decade ahead.”5 I had known Hugh since 1948,

when he was the director of the NACA and I was

appointed to the Subcommittee on Stability and

Control. Our subcommittee had sufficient controversy that we met with Hugh on occasion. He was

a master at resolving contentious issues. 

At NASA, I briefed him many times and gratefully received his wise counsel, both technical and

political. When the Instrumentation Laboratory

obtained the contract for Apollo’s guidance and control, I received a letter from Dr. Charles Stark “Doc”

Draper advising me that he always observed firsthand the performance of his developments, whether

in submarines, surface ships, bombers, or fighters. So

he wanted me to know that he was ready and eager

for a spaceflight. Doc was for many years the head of

MIT’s Department of Aeronautics and Astronautics

and the director of its Instrumentation Laboratory. I

knew that as much as we would appreciate his

hands-on advice, the rules for flight were stringent,

and he didn’t qualify. At the next meeting with

Webb and Dryden, I read Doc’s letter. Jim Webb

was ecstatic: “I’m going to show the President the

letter this afternoon. The letter shows how some

scientists truly believe in manned spaceflight.”

However, Hugh piped up, “Before you go, have

you considered all the implications? One in 20 applications for astronaut duty is accepted. Many fail for

medical reasons. Doc is 30 years older than most

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 63

Figure 15. This photo of the Gemini 7 spacecraft was taken through the hatch window of the Gemini 6 spacecraft during rendezvous.

(NASA Image Number S65-63221)

5. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1965: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4006, 1966), pp.

534–535.
astronauts.” Jim reluctantly reined in his enthusiasm.

Hugh had saved NASA from an embarrassing incident. Hugh was a wise, moderating influence on

many occasions.

Soon after Hugh’s death, I received an interim

appointment as Deputy Administrator, and I was

sworn in on 21 December. Then, on 2 January 1966,

changes in the organizational structure were

announced. The Office of the Administrator would

now include the Administrator, Jim Webb; the

Deputy, me; the Associate, also me; the Associate

Deputy, Willis Shapley; and the Executive Secretary,

Colonel Lawrence Vogel. Larry Vogel became

responsible for channeling and scheduling work

within the office. Willis Shapley became the principal

assistant to both Jim Webb and me. I became Mr.

Webb’s alter ego at the same time that I continued to

be the general manager of all NASA operations.

Fortunately, George Mueller, Homer Newell, Mac

Adams, and Edmund Buckley continued as managers

of their respective programs. I was confirmed by the

Senate on 29 January 1966 and was sworn in again

by Jim Webb in the presence of the Vice President.

Also on that date, Mr. Webb and Mr. McNamara

signed a Memorandum of Understanding for a joint

Manned Space Flight Policy Committee to be

chaired by John Foster, Director of Research and

Exploration for the Department of Defense, and

me. These arrangements superseded the NASADOD Gemini understanding of 21 January 1963.

My plate was getting fuller, and I would have less

time in the future to follow individual projects

actively. I truly missed Hugh Dryden.

Wednesday, 16 March 1966,

Gemini 8, Neil Armstrong and

David Scott

Gemini 8 was most significant, most fraught

with danger, and most skillfully managed. Rendezvous and docking were, of course, key to the success

of the Apollo lunar landing mission. Without a successful rendezvous, the two astronauts who landed

on the Moon would not be able to return to Earth.

During the preparation phase for Gemini 8, I spent

time in Houston and had an opportunity to ride

with Neil Armstrong in the rendezvous and docking

simulator. The Gemini simulator in which we were

inserted could yaw, pitch, and roll as well as translate three dimensionally. Neil negotiated the final

stages of rendezvous and then successfully docked

with the target. When asked to try my skills, I

demurred—better not to risk damage to a key facility. I was impressed and waited for 16 March with

eager anticipation. 

The Agena lifted off from Cape Canaveral on

schedule at 10 a.m. eastern standard time (EST), followed as planned by Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott

aboard Gemini 8 at 11:41. They performed a coplanar change of half a degree and a series of apogee

and perigee adjustments, finally achieving a radar

lock on the Agena when the Gemini was 158 miles

astern. They achieved a visual sighting at 76 miles, 4

hours and 40 minutes into the flight. The Gemini

was brought within 60 to 80 feet of the Agena for a

visual inspection. All appeared in good order. Neil

Armstrong then prepared for final alignment and

docking. He closed to within 2 feet of the docking

adapter. He was over the eastern Pacific, in communication with the tracking and communication ship

Rose Knot Victor below. Docking was approved,

and the Gemini proceeded toward the Agena at 0.75

mph until the Agena-Gemini was latched together.

The time was 6:15 p.m.6

Soon after this historic moment, I left home

elated to attend the Goddard dinner where 1,500 of

the aerospace fraternity would be dining and celebrating this most recent success. Imagine my surprise when, upon arriving at the hotel, I was

whisked away to a private room. I was told that the

Gemini had had to separate from the Agena and

was spinning at an uncontrolled rate. I mistakenly

decided to attend the dinner as planned. I should

have returned to my office, but I did arrange for

continued surreptitious updates. In the course of

the dinner, I first told the crowd that the Gemini

spacecraft was in a perilous state. Some thought I

was joking, but then there was stunned silence.

Later, I could announce that Gemini was de-spun

and that an emergency recovery would be made in

the Pacific, 500 miles east of Okinawa. The

destroyer USS Mason and two C-54 aircraft were

converging on the area. 

64 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

6. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini VIII—Rendezvous and Docking Missions,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).
It was agreed that the Vice President would

deliver his speech and I would give him the high

sign when the astronauts were safe. The Vice

President was noted for his gift of speech, but even

he was fading when I finally gave him the okay sign.

The Gemini had been spotted by an aircraft. Of

course, pickup remained, and Jim Webb felt that I had

taken undue risk in making the announcement. But

the guests left reassured after an agonizing dinner. 

The Gemini landed at 10:22 EST, and Pararescue

men dropped from a plane 13 minutes later. The

flight crew was picked up by the Mason early the

next morning at 1:28 EST, and 9 minutes later, the

spacecraft was aboard. The destroyer docked in

Okinawa 18 hours later. Ultimately, five aircraft were

involved in the rescue. 

Although the mission was nearly a disaster,

there were many significant achievements:

• The first successful simultaneous countdown and launch of two vehicles on the

same day at the precise minutes planned 

• The successful retrieval of spacecraft and

astronauts in a secondary landing area

required for the first time

• The first docking and maneuvering of two

vehicles in space

Tape analysis showed that the errant yaw

thruster had spun the capsule after separation from

the Agena at nearly one revolution per second. Neil

and Dave successfully diagnosed their predicament,

turned off all thrusters, and utilized the reentry control system to de-spin. During the emergency period,

as the crew members were undocking, they had the

presence of mind to leave the Agena responsive to

ground command and with the tape data intact so

that readout on the ground was possible—extremely

important for the accident review team. In addition

to the astronauts, many others deserved great credit.

Special commendation was given at the postflight

news conference to General Huston on behalf of the

DOD recovery team; to Admiral Persons, commander of Task Force 130, to which the USS Mason

was assigned; and to the three Pararescue men who

attached the floating collar around the Gemini. 

Friday, 3 June 1966, Gemini 9,

Thomas Stafford and Eugene Cernan

Tom Stafford was in command of the Gemini 

9 mission, and Gene Cernan was the pilot. Theirs

was the hard-luck mission, but through no fault of

their own. As in Gemini 8, the Agena was to depart 

an hour and a half ahead of the astronauts. Unfortunately, only 2 minutes into its flight, all contact

with the target vehicle ceased. Shortly thereafter,

George Mueller announced that the Augmented

Target Docking Adapter (ATDA) would be used by

Gemini 9 for rendezvous trials. 

The ATDA liftoff on Atlas proceeded on schedule, but the guidance system update couldn’t be

transferred through the ground equipment to the

spacecraft. When two other attempts failed, the

flight was scrubbed and rescheduled for 3 June, two

days hence. On the third, all systems were go, liftoff

was nominal, and the spacecraft was soon in orbit.

After a series of orbital corrections, the astronauts

were in sight of the adapter. To their dismay, the

shroud on the nose of the ATDA had not separated.

Stafford reported that both the clamshells of the nose

cone were still on but were open wide. It looked like

an angry alligator. After close-proximity inspection

and two additional rendezvous approaches, the

crew was tired and put off EVA, the second objective of the mission, until the morrow. 

Gene Kranz, the Mission Control Flight

Director who later became famous for controlling

the return of the crippled Apollo 13 and his watch

cry of “failure is not an option,” was advised by the

astronauts that they were ready for depressurized

action. The word was “go” from the tracking station at Carnarvon. This activity took place between

Canton Island and Hawaii, culminating in an open

hatch with Cernan standing and prepared to egress.

He gradually worked his way to the adapter section

with the “snake” (umbilical) all over him. He then

reloaded the EVA camera and turned on the EVA

lights for nighttime operations. Back at the adapter

area, he began to plug into the Astronaut Maneuver

Unit. He started noting fogging in his helmet visor.

As he proceeded, Stafford commented that Cernan

was finding his work four to five times more difficult than in ground test, so Stafford and Cernan

evaluated the situation after sunrise and felt that the

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 65
fogging constituted a flight safety hazard. The

experimental maneuver unit was scrubbed. By resting, Cernan gained back 25 percent of his vision,

but as he began to retrieve equipment, the fogging

grew worse again. The flight plan called for photographs at sunset, but Stafford decided to bring

Cernan back into the spacecraft. Cabin repressurization occurred without incident. Gemini 9 landed

less than 2 miles from the USS Wasp. At the news

briefing two weeks after the flight, it was noted that

the liftoff and reentry were flawless. It was stressed

that the Gemini Program was experimental and that

on each flight, an attempt was made to advance our

understanding of space operations to the maximum

extent possible. Clearly, much experience was still

needed before Apollo. 

The Gemini Program concluded with three successful missions. The three were similar in objectives

and operations, and each helped clear uncertainties,

especially difficulties encountered in astronaut activities external to the capsule. The question of why

EVA was so much more strenuous in space then in

preflight training would ultimately be answered and

the trouble corrected.7

Monday, 18 July 1966, 

Gemini 10, John Young and

Michael Collins

The Agena was launched from Complex 14 by

the Atlas booster at 3:40 p.m. EST, and John Young

and Mike Collins were to follow at 5:20 p.m. within

a 37-second window. Gemini 10 lifted off exactly as

planned. Through a series of orbital maneuvers, the

astronauts brought their spacecraft within 40 feet of

the Agena and were given a “go” for docking from

the Coastal Sentry tracking ship. John executed the

docking maneuver with precision, and the Agena

pulled the nose in to make a rigid connection

between the two vehicles. 

Using the primary propulsion system of the

Agena, Collins conducted a series of three maneuvers. In the first, the Gemini was driven forward at

one g for 1 minute and 24 seconds. This thrust

increased the apogee of the orbit to 412 nautical

miles, a record for manned flight and one that provided a magnificent view of the Middle East. After

two more Agena burns, the orbit was a little over

200 nautical miles in altitude. 

The EVA lasted for 50 minutes. After depressurization of the capsule, Mike first stood up in the

cockpit and gazed with wonder as the world sped

underneath him. He then used the maneuver unit to visit

the Agena and collect a data package fastened there. 

The astronauts returned to Earth after three days,

within 3.4 miles of the intended landing point. They

were retrieved by the recovery ship USS Guadalcanal.

At the awards ceremony, I noted that Gemini was

proving to be much more than a two-man Mercury. I

said that Gemini had given us the ability to change

orbits, inspect other spacecraft, rendezvous and dock,

and use Agena as a switch engine in space.8

Monday, 12 September 1966,

Gemini 11, Charles “Pete” Conrad,

Jr., and Richard Gordon, Jr.

Gemini 11, with Pete Conrad and Dick Gordon,

performed a most difficult maneuver, namely, to rendezvous and dock with the Agena on their first orbit.

The Atlas-Agena had lifted off at 8:05:02 a.m. EST,

and Gemini 11’s liftoff had to be at 9:42:26. Their

window was only 2 seconds. Although successful,

Pete said he wasted 2 or 3 percent of his fuel fussing

around and getting used to seeing the bright Agena

when he couldn’t see his instruments. He said he

fumbled around trying to find his glasses. Later, with

his sunglasses, he had no trouble reading the instruments and tracking the Agena. 

The following day, the Gemini-Agena configuration reached an apogee of 742 nautical miles and, in

the ensuing orbits, performed a series of photogenic

experiments of terrain, weather, and airglow horizon.

Afterward, they used the Agena to return to a nearly

circular orbit at 160 nautical miles of altitude. 

The astronauts achieved the greatest total time

in extravehicular activity, a total of over 2.5 hours.

However, Gordon experienced overheating and

fatigue, as had others in previous missions. After

opening the hatch, he set up a camera, received an

experimental data package, and attached a tether to

the Agena docking bar. This phase of EVA was ter66 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

7. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini IX-Rendezvous Missions,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).

8. Ibid.
minated because of pilot fatigue and the fact that

perspiration was gathering in the pilot’s right eye

and impairing his vision. 

However, the astronauts were able to conduct a

tethered exercise with Gemini and Agena roped

together and rotating at 55 degrees per minute.

Although very small, this was the first artificial

gravity achieved in space. 

Retrofire occurred over Canton Island, and the

landing point was achieved automatically for the

first time. Splashdown happened within 1.5 miles

of the USS Guam. At the press conference, General

Davis, commander of the Atlantic Missile Range,

praised the precise landing and noted that recovery

was becoming an easy assignment. George Mueller

had opened the press conference by listing the many

major accomplishments of Gemini 11. Bob Gilruth

found the results with the tether to be fascinating

but closed by emphasizing the hard work that had

gone into preparing for extravehicular operations—

and the fact that, as yet, this effort had not yielded

satisfactory solutions.9

Friday, 11 November 1966,

Gemini 12, Jim Lovell and 

Buzz Aldrin

On 11 November 1966, with Jim Lovell and

Buzz Aldrin aboard, Gemini 12 lifted off from the

Cape within half a second of its prescribed time in

hot pursuit of Agena. The astronauts followed a

series of maneuvers in order to rendezvous on the

third orbit. They achieved an early lockon at 235

miles, but as they approached the Agena, the radar

failed, and the rendezvous took place using backup

visual procedures. Docking and a variety of orbital

maneuvers took place with and without Agena, but

the primary emphasis was on Buzz Aldrin and his

extravehicular performance. The first day, he spent

2 hours and 29 minutes in standup activities; on the

second day, 2 hours and 8 minutes; and on the third

day, 51 minutes while standing in the open cockpit.

During the EVA, Buzz utilized portable handrails,

foot restraints, and waist tethers. This latter system

consisted of two tethers attached to the astronaut’s

parachute harness. The tethers were hooked to

rings, for example, on the Agena docking cone and

on a telescoping handrail. Aldrin said, “With this

system, I could ignore the motion of my body and

devote my full effort to the task at hand.” He also

found that the underwater simulation of EVA had

provided his most helpful training. 

On the fourth day, retrofire was initiated over

Canton Island; 34.5 minutes later, the flotation collar was attached, and the two astronauts were

choppered to the flight dock of the USS Wasp.

At the postrecovery news conference, there

were two themes: first, a mutual exchange of congratulations among all individuals and organizations involved in the program, including the media;

second, the lessons learned of value to the achievement of lunar landing. These lessons were outlined

by Bob Gilruth in terms of how to maneuver with

precision, to rendezvous, to dock, to work outside in

a hard vacuum, and to recover with precise landings. 

Deke Slayton pointed out that the transition to

Apollo was already occurring. All crews had been

transferred to the lunar program except the crew of

Gemini 12. Chris Kraft stressed the operational

skills that had been built up by both ground and

flight crews and added that the Gemini flight-control teams were being phased into the ultimate

lunar mission. Dr. Charles Berry, the astronauts’

many-talented flight surgeon, said that proof that

man can really operate in the space environment

was one of Gemini’s milestones.10

Gemini Farewell

A week later, on 23 November 1966, there was

a Gemini 12 pilots’ news conference, followed by a

Gemini awards ceremony. Jim Webb and I made the

presentations. There were many deserving of recognition, but none more so then George Mueller, who

had revitalized the mission soon after his arrival,

and Chuck Mathews, the day-to-day manager.

Others included the two most recent astronauts,

Jim Lovell and Buzz Aldrin, as well as William

Bergen, president of the Martin Company; David

Lewis, president of McDonnell Aircraft Corporation; and James S. McDonnell, McDonnell Aircraft

Corporation’s executive officer. Mr. McDonnell seldom missed a Mercury or Gemini launching. He

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 67

9. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini XI-Mission-High Altitude, Tethered Flight,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).

10. Ivan D. Ertel, “Gemini XII-Flight and Gemini Program Summary,” in Gemini Program (Houston, TX: NASA, 1967).
would jog on the beach in the early morning, and

after every flight, he would announce over the loudspeaker at one of his factories, “This is Mac calling;

you’ve done it again. You’ve achieved another great

success. Congratulations!” Morale at McDonnell

was high because of the caliber of its employees, the

great interest of Mr. Mac, and the frequent visits of

the participating astronauts. Many other industry

and government leaders received special awards;

recipients included Major General Vincent G.

Huston for his significant contribution in directing

the efforts of the Eastern Test Range of USAF, in providing critical launch and operations support, and in

directing the total efforts of the DOD operational

support for the Gemini Program. Others recognized

were the senior officers of the companies manufacturing the Agena and the Titan. It was a great day. As

we listened to the Gemini accomplishments, I said,

“Don’t forget that there is much hard work ahead

before we achieve our national goal of preeminence

in space.” Little did I know what lay ahead before a

successful lunar landing and a safe return. 

The rapid pace of manned test and flight missions

abated somewhat following the completion of the

Gemini flights and the program’s awards ceremony.

Reflection on the Apollo Program at this time would

have shown progress in many quarters, including 

the Saturn I, Saturn IB, the F-1 engine, and the

unmanned Surveyor and Lunar Orbiter programs.

Saturn I 

The 10 Saturn I development flights started

during President Kennedy’s administration were

completed in 1965. In September 1964, a boilerplate

capsule, service module, and second stage elements

weighing 37,000 pounds were placed in Earth orbit.

The final three Saturns were used to launch Pegasus,

a large spacecraft used to measure the size and number of micrometeorites in near-Earth orbit.11

Saturn IB

The second stage of Saturn I, with its six 15,000-

pound RL10 engines, was replaced by the SIVb

stage, which had a single J-2 liquid-hydrogen-fueled

engine with a thrust of 200,000 pounds. The Saturn

IB, as it was designated, was launched successfully

twice in 1966. In August of 1966, 55,000 pounds of

material was placed in Earth orbit.12

The F-1 Engine

The F-1 engine development that started in the

Eisenhower era was an act of faith. Its 1.5 million

pounds of thrust was an order of magnitude greater

than the thrust of the existing engines used in ballistic missiles. The fuel and oxidizer pumps were

driven by 55,000-horsepower engines, and the

engine itself produced 160 million horsepower at

ignition. The F-1 was a brute, and it was nearly

impossible to tame. Blowups occurred, apparently

at random, during its 3.5-minute burn. Its development was more an art than a science. The work was

frustrating and didn’t lend itself to mathematical

analysis. In order to achieve consistency in the testing, bomblets were developed to upset the burning

pattern. Then, if the engine was stable, the burning

would recover in milliseconds. With this tool, holes

in the injection plate for the oxidizer and fuel could

be rearranged and quickly tested. Baffles of various

dimensions could be introduced to determine their

effectiveness. Finally, stability was achieved by moving the burn closer to the mouth of the nozzle, resulting in a loss in efficiency of only a few percent. The

F-1 passed its flight-rating test on 8 March 1965.13

Saturn V

Of course, each of these giant engines had to

function in close proximity to its four neighbors. A

first-stage, full-duration test of the Saturn V was

first achieved on a stand at Marshall Space Flight

Center on 5 August 1965.

Similarly, tests were being run on the Saturn V

second stage with its five J-2 liquid-oxygen, liquidhydrogen engines. There were difficulties with the

embrittlement of the hydrogen tank at its very low,

cryogenically cooled temperature. In-house material

scientists at Marshall resolved the issue, and the

first successful full-duration firing occurred at the

North American flight test stand on 9 August 1965. 

68 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

11. Von Braun and Ordway, History of Rocketry and Space Travel, p. 167.

12. Ibid., p. 172.

13. Murray and Cox, Apollo: The Race to the Moon, pp. 144–151.
The third stage of Saturn V was, by plan, similar to the second stage of the Saturn IB. However,

for the lunar mission, this stage had to be ignited 

to complete the insertion into Earth orbit and then

reignited for the extra thrust required for lunar 

passage. On 20 August 1965, the J-2 engine was

ignited for 3 minutes, and then, after a 30-minute

shutdown, it was reignited for the 4-minute burn

that would later take the astronauts away from

Earth and toward the Moon.14

In November 1963, when President Kennedy

inspected Merritt Island from his helicopter, there

wasn’t much to see. The 4,800 pilings were still

being driven through the sand to the bedrock

below. Less than three years later, the Vertical

Assembly Building was complete (see figure 16)

and Saturn V was being fabricated. The first rollout of a full-fledged Saturn V mounted on the

crawler transporter took place at a formal ceremony

on 25 May 1966. At the appointed time, the doors

opened, and the tremendous assemblage of hardware

traveled forward at 5 mph. Apollo/Saturn V on the

move (figure 17) was a deeply moving sight. With

the 52-story VAB in the background, the crawler

delivered the Saturn V to the launchpad erect,

standing two-thirds the height of the Washington

Monument. The congressional delegation, the

guests, the press, and the NASA team were

dwarfed physically and emotionally by such a

majestic creation. The trip to the Moon was

becoming a reality. 

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 69

Figure 16. An aerial view of the Launch Complex 39 area shows the Vehicle Assembly Building (center), with the Launch Control

Center on its right. On the west side (lower end) are (left to right) the Orbiter Processing Facility, Process Control Center, and

Operations Support Building. To the east (upper end) are Launchpads 39A (right) and 39B (just above the VAB). The crawlerway

stretches between the VAB and the launchpads toward the Atlantic Ocean, seen beyond them. (NASA Image 99PP-1213, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2000-000855.html)

14. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1965: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4006, 1966).
70 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 17. The Apollo Saturn V 500F Facilities Test Vehicle, after conducting the VAB stacking operations, rolls out of the VAB on its

way to Pad 39A to perform crawler, Launch Umbilical Tower, and pad operations. (NASA Image Number 67-H-1187.)
Surveyor—-Unmanned Lunar

Landing

As Jerry Wiesner said at the special meeting with

President Kennedy in November 1962, “Jim [Webb]

may not understand this, but we don’t know a damn

thing about the surface of the Moon.” The point was

well taken even though Jim did know. Tommy Gold,

a professor at Cornell University, had a theory that

the continuous barrage of meteors and micrometeors

on the lunar surface had created not only voluminous craters, but also fine dust, into which a lunar

lander might sink out of sight. If the truth be known,

there was much we didn’t know—and that was a

good reason for exploration. However, to land there,

we had to know something about the bearing

strength of the surface. 

Keith Glennan’s last official act at NASA was

to select Hughes Aircraft for the development of

Surveyor. Initially conceived for unmanned exploration, the craft had become essential to accomplishing the lunar landing. But progress at Hughes

was slow and a matter of deepening concern. It was

decided that I should bait the bear and visit Pat

Hyland, Hughes’ chief executive officer. 

In early 1966, I invited him to breakfast at a

hotel near the Los Angeles International Airport. I

came armed with two alternatives. One was a contract amendment that provided an incentive fee for

Hughes. If they achieved a successful lunar landing

prior to a given date, there was a bonus, and if there

was a delay, there was a penalty that was increasingly stiff as the weeks increased. I also had a letter

that laid out, in detail, specific errors in omission

and commission by Hughes in the management of

the Surveyor program. After pleasantries and a

plate of scrambled eggs, I showed Pat the letter and

the contract amendment and asked him which he’d

like to receive (or like least to receive). He said he’d

be happy to sign the contract document. I was at

Mission Control in Houston for the launching of

Gemini 9. 

When the Agena failed, Gemini 9’s launch was

scrubbed because Agena would not be available for

rendezvous and docking. So I headed for JPL in

Pasadena, California. 

In the early morning (2:00 a.m.) of 2 June

1966, I was seated on the balcony of Mission

Control at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, anticipating the landing of Surveyor. Pat Hyland was several

rows behind. The atmosphere was palpable.

Surveyor appeared healthy, responding correctly to

instructions. Finally it made its landing, to great

cheering; then it took the first photograph from the

Moon, inspiring protracted cheering. And I heard

Pat say over the din, “How’s that for a crippled program?” And at last, we had the answer from the

returning photographs. There was dust on the lunar

surface, perhaps an inch deep. It appeared that the

lunar surface would support a manned lunar landing.

Surveyor’s 850-pound weight, was lifted into

Earth’s orbit by an Atlas-Agena. There were two

more lunar landings, each in a designated area. The

data from Surveyor were essential to the design of

the Apollo lander, challenging to geophysicists, and

awe-inspiring to the public.15

Lunar Orbiter for Mapping the

Moon

The Fleming report of 1961 called for five

Surveyor A landers and a series of Surveyor B

orbiters, later called Lunar Orbiters. The objective of

the latter was nearly complete mapping of the Moon

and the location of landing sites. JPL was responsible

for unmanned lunar and planetary missions, and

hence, it was assumed, this laboratory would be in

charge of both Surveyors A and B. However, its plate

was full, and, somewhat related, NASA was experiencing difficulty renegotiating the contract with the

California Institute of Technology, Caltech for short.

JPL was and is an integral arm of Caltech. Both are

located in Pasadena, California. It’s not uncommon

for the government to contract with a university for

the management of a laboratory. The former AEC,

now part of the Department of Energy, has a contract

with the University of California for managing the

Los Alamos and Lawrence Livermore National

Laboratories, as well as one with the University of

Chicago for managing Argonne. This type of

arrangement provides more flexibility in personnel

management than the civil service and can provide

intellectual stimulus from university faculty.

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 71

15. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1966: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4007, 1967), pp.

203–205.
However, the monitoring of large contracts with the

laboratory is more difficult than with a government

center, and the fee paid to the university can be excessive, or appear to be, when an agency is obtaining

congressional approval. JPL is a Federally Funded

Research and Development Center (FFRDC).

Further discussion of this type of management

appears later in the book. 

Since time was wasting, I reviewed the situation

with Jim Webb and initiated discussions with

Tommy Thompson, Director of NASA’s Langley

Research Center in Virginia. I asked them to investigate the transfer of the project to that Center’s aegis.

The technical team there was eager for the opportunity and appeared to have the necessary procurement

and management skills. Langley then prepared a procurement plan, which I approved. The plan called for

Langley to manage the project and team with a cross

section of Langley and other NASA personnel. When

Mr. Webb, Dr. Dryden, and I met with the evaluation

team, the selection of contractors centered almost

entirely on the technology, and a clear winner was

not obvious. It was decided that I would hold hearings separately with each of the competitors. Hughes

Aircraft proposed a rotating spacecraft similar to

Syncom, its communication satellite. This design

simplified the craft’s stabilization but required higher

sensitivity film. Boeing provided a stable platform

aligned with the lunar vertical, so photographic

requirements were less stringent than they might

have been. In this design, each photograph was

scanned into strips, lines, and finally dots. Each dot

was digitized into a number on the gray scale from 0

(white) to 60 (black). The reconstituted photograph

had more than adequate resolution. Since the main

thrust of the mission was photographic, Boeing

received the contract. The contract for five Lunar

Orbiters was incentivized, with the contractor fee

based on schedule and performance. Payments for

the work had to be periodical. At one point, in order

to avoid causing a renegotiation, NASA increased its

payment to Boeing by $10 million. The reprogramming required congressional approval. Congress

assented, the program held, and all five missions

were successful. Both NASA and Boeing benefited

from the incentive arrangement.

On 10 August 1966, Lunar Orbiter I was

launched by an Atlas-Agena and headed for the

Moon, where photographs of the lunar surface

were obtained for 17 days. The high-resolution

photography was disappointing, but the mediumresolution camera returned good images, though not 

of the quality we’d anticipated. The photos would

cover a 3,000-mile strip around the equator while

concentrating on nine potential landing areas. On 

6 November, Lunar Orbiter II was launched; it provided 20 days of consistently high-quality photographs,

including pictures of 13 potential landing sites.16

Having viewed a fair number of overhead

crater photos, I asked how difficult it would be to

obtain a few oblique shots of the lunar surface. The

answer was “No problem; what would you like?” I

suggested an interesting moonscape at an angle 10

degrees below the horizon. A few days later, I

couldn’t believe the result: on my desk was an

image of the crater Copernicus, one of the great pictures of the 20th century. The photograph showed

a pile of debris 1,000 feet tall in the center of the

crater, with a flat, pockmarked surface around the

debris and the 10,000-foot crater wall.

I was headed for Boston in a few hours to give

a talk at the American Institute of Aeronautics and

Astronautics’ (AIAA) Third Annual Meeting and

Technical Display. I asked for a slide of the picture

and received it as I boarded the plane. When the

photograph of Copernicus appeared in the auditorium later that afternoon, there was first stunned

silence and then strenuous applause. What I said

made little difference. I’ve had a copy of this photograph on my study wall ever since.

There were three more Lunar Orbiters, all successful. From the images taken by these orbiters,

maps covering nearly 100 percent of the lunar surface were produced. As of year’s end 1966, NASA

was rapidly filling the squares on the PERT charts

in the Fleming Committee’s report of 16 June 1961.

The committee that Fleming chaired studied every

task that could be foreseen at the start of the

manned lunar landing program. Each task was represented on the chart by a square. Many of these

tasks were now complete, but much lay ahead.

72 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

16. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1966: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4007, 1967),

pp. 262–265.
Organizational Issues

Toward the end of 1966, Willis Shapley and I

had several command performances with Jim. He

wasn’t satisfied with NASA’s organizational arrangements. It wasn’t clear to us exactly why. In part, he

felt that too much hinged on himself and me. Stated

another way, he wanted to establish an organization

that would outlast us and would carry NASA solidly

into the future. I was concerned that radical changes

would take time to accommodate, just as we were

reaching the end of the decade, the time when we had

hoped to achieve our lunar landing goal. 

Jim Webb liked to receive information from a

variety of sources. He sometimes called this “selfpolicing.” He did rely heavily on Hugh Dryden and

me, but he also surrounded himself with consultants of high caliber, and he often invited senior corporate officers for a discussion of the world scene.

There was one occasion when Mervin Kelley, one of

Jim’s consultants, was convinced that the Draper

Laboratory could not develop the guidance and

control for Apollo. He felt that the laboratory was

too theoretical and could not design hardware that

would withstand the rigors of lunar missions.

Fortunately, I was brought into the discussion and

was able to enumerate many of the Draper Lab’s

successful developments. 

I was not always enamored with some of Jim’s

creations, such as a secretariat. Documents emanating from both the Field Centers and Headquarters

were categorized by the secretariat and distributed

accordingly. I didn’t believe that clerks understood

the nuances of NASA’s programs sufficiently to

make such distributions. Also, metaphorically

speaking, the turn of a key could isolate individuals

from parts of a program without their knowledge,

as happened to me later in the program.

A contract with General Electric (GE) also generated questions of intent. In February of 1962,

NASA announced that GE had been selected for a

supporting role in Apollo to provide safety analysis

of the total space vehicle and to develop and operate a checkout system for Launch Control. Jim felt

that this GE assignment would provide greater visibility of NASA’s progress. 

In actuality, the contract gave GE a major role

in designing the hardware and software for Launch

Control at the Cape, but their safety effort was secondary. GE had technical staff at Grumman, at

North American, and in Houston. Their job was to

look for designs and flight hardware that might create hazards for the astronauts. At North American,

the GE engineers were often labeled as spies and

were provided with trailers far from the Apollo

effort. It was a difficult assignment for GE and not

very productive. 

Jim left for Princeton in December to give a

series of lectures on modern management. He had a

lot to say there about the Triad’s advantages, one of

his favorite hallmarks. When Jim returned, I invited

him to lunch for a discussion of his and my views

on organization. By dessert, he said that he needed

my views in writing. My draft response dated 15

December 1966 outlined in detail what I had presented at lunch. I recommended a new Office of

Management for all functions related to NASA’s

resources, i.e., financial operations, facilities, and

manpower. 

Harold B. Finger started his career at NACA’s

Lewis Research Center as an aeronautical research

scientist in 1944. When NASA was formed, he was

transferred to NASA Headquarters to become the

chief of the Nuclear Engine Program. During the

late fifties and early sixties, NASA and the Atomic

Energy Commission (AEC) established joint projects for both engine and electrical power development. Harry was responsible for all these activities,

which necessitated his wearing several hats. He was

the manager of the joint AEC-NASA Nuclear

Propulsion Office formed in 1960; he also served as

NASA’s Director of Nuclear Systems, and in June

1965, he became the head of a new AEC division

for the development of electrical power for space

vehicles. The isotope electrical power units were

especially important to NASA on missions to the

outer planets, at great distances from the Sun,

where solar power became less effective. Harry had

many constituents, and he satisfied them all. By 6

January 1961, Harry was asked to head a NASA

team for the analysis of procedural revisions and

functional alignments within NASA Headquarters

and to review, in more depth, the specific options I

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 73
had suggested in my discussions with Jim Webb. A

more detailed discussion on this appears in the next

chapter on NASA management. 

The Apollo Fire

Instead of the glorious day that was anticipated, 27 January 1967 was a tragic day for NASA.

Mr. Webb had invited the senior executives from

both the Gemini Program and the Apollo Program

to Washington to attend a White House ceremony,

as well as a special dinner for the group. 

The White House affair started formally with

the signing of an international treaty. Representatives from 62 nations were involved in London,

Moscow, and Washington, DC. Secretary of State

Dean Rusk signed for the United States in the presence of Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin,

British Ambassador Dean, U.S. Ambassador to the

United Nations (UN) Arthur Goldberg, and

President Johnson. The President described the treaty

as the “first firm step toward keeping outer space

free for ever from the implements of war.”17 After an

exchange of pleasantries with our Apollo executives,

I headed for home, where I was having a small dinner in honor of my old boss from MIT, Doc Draper.

As I walked in the front door, I heard my wife Gene

say, “Here comes Bobby now.” It was George Low

on the phone, and his first words were, “They’re all

dead.” He was extremely upset, and I was having

difficulty in understanding him. I asked George,

“Who’s dead?” Gradually, or so it seemed, I learned

that a fire had started during the testing of Apollo

204 (later known as Apollo 1) and that the three

astronauts on board were dead. Those three were

Gus Grissom, of Mercury and Gemini fame; Ed

White, the first U.S. astronaut to experience extravehicular activities; and Roger Chaffee, gaining experience for what would have been his first spaceflight.

As I absorbed the devastating news, I realized that I

must immediately leave for my office, and I told

George that I would call him in a half hour for a

more complete report. I then asked Gene to take

over as host of the dinner and tell the guests of the

accident only as they were departing. 

Back in my office, I soon learned that a fullscale test of the Apollo system had been under way

when the fire started. Not only were the astronauts

enclosed in the capsule in communication with

Launch Control, but the worldwide Apollo net was

also involved. Once the fire started, the pressure

inside the capsule increased, so the hatch could not

be opened. Ultimately, the capsule burst and the

flames scorched the outside, but fortunately, the fire

did not spread to the surrounding structure. 

My first job was to communicate with Jim

Webb and George Mueller and to ensure that all

senior individuals were notified. While I was talking to Bob McNamara’s assistant, the operator cut

in with an emergency call; it was Peter Hackes of

the National Broadcasting Company (NBC). He

asked me to come immediately to the studio to

explain the fatal fire. He said that the country was

in near panic. I explained that I couldn’t, that I was

busy making important arrangements, and that the

cause of the fire was still unknown. Jim Webb was

busy gaining acceptance from the President and

Congress for a NASA investigation. George Mueller

was gathering detailed information about the fire

and preparing a list of individuals to serve on the

accident review board. Following the Gemini 8

near-accident with Armstrong and Scott aboard, I

had revised the manual to be followed when accidents occurred. NASA had dealt with fatal aircraft

accidents in the previous five years, but none

involving space activities. I drew up and signed the

instructions for the review board and caught a few

hours’ sleep before proceeding to Langley Field

early the next morning to pick up Tommy

Thompson, Director of the Langley Research Center.

We then headed for Cape Canaveral, where he was

to become the chairman of the review board. 

As soon as we arrived, we met with Apollo

Program Manager Sam Phillips, Joe Shea, and Kurt

Debus (the Director of Kennedy Space Center). I

asked for a brief status report and then brought them

up to date on the plans for the accident review board.

I advised them that all hardware and software utilized in the Apollo 204 test had been impounded,

and its release for inspection and testing was the sole

responsibility of the board. I provided them with a

list of the board members and told them that we

were attempting to shield the board from direct

inquiry by the media. While I was there, the media

requested an interview directly with me. I notified the

74 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

17. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1967: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4008, 1968),

p. 23.
TV and press that time didn’t permit a press conference. The release made at the time of my departure

stated that a board had been established to review

the circumstances surrounding the accident, to establish probable cause, and to review the corrective

action and recommendations being developed by the

program office, Field Centers, and contractors

involved. The board was required to document its

findings, determinations, and recommendations and

to submit a final report to the Administrator, not to

be released without his approval. 

All three astronauts were buried with full military honors—Gus Grissom and Roger Chaffee at

Arlington Cemetery, and Ed White at West Point.

The President, Jim Webb, and my wife Gene were at

Arlington, along with many others; I accompanied

Mrs. Johnson and the Vice President to the service in

the chapel at West Point. I met Ed’s father, told him

how much his son contributed to the space effort,

and apologized for allowing the fire to take place. 

The President, Congress, and the media wouldn’t

sit still for an extended period without any information on the board’s progress. The barely acceptable

solution required me to visit with the board weekly, listen to their progress report, and then draw my

own conclusions. While flying back to Washington,

I’d write my own findings and submit the result to

Jim Webb. If acceptable to him, the report would 

be transmitted in sequence to the President, then to 

the House and Senate space committees, and, ultimately, to the media. 

My Reports on the Progress of

the Accident Review Board

My first report, dated 3 February 1967, stated

that full advantage was being taken of the extensive

taped data from the test, as well as records made

prior to the accident. The report noted that the

spacecraft was still mated to the unfueled launch

vehicle at the pad. The report went on, “The capsule will be disassembled so that experts in many

technical and scientific areas can work with the

physical evidence, and an undamaged and nearly

identical spacecraft will be used to establish the

condition prior to the accident.”18

The report contained a timeline of the events

following the crew’s detection of the fire. At

6:31:03, pilot Chaffee reported that a fire existed.

One second later, the inertial navigation gave an

indication of crew movement. The cabin temperature began to rise after 2 seconds, and senior pilot

White reported the fire after 6 seconds. At the same

time, the pressure started to increase and a large

amount of astronaut motion was detected. Nine

seconds after the first indication, pilot Chaffee

reported a bad fire. There was no further intelligible communication. After 14 seconds, the pressure

and temperature of the astronauts’ suits commenced to fluctuate and the signal was lost. Soon

thereafter, the pressure in the cabin doubled and the

capsule skin ruptured. The cause of death was

asphyxiation due to smoke inhalation. My first

report was printed verbatim in the New York

Times, five days after my trip to the Cape.19

My second report, dated 14 February, commented on the board’s structure and procedures.

“Approximately 5,000 scientists, engineers and

technicians are involved in the investigation. 21

panels have been established to conduct the inquiry.

No single element is touched or removed for analysis without full board approval to ensure there is no

impact on the on-going studies. All three space suits

were burned through and Gus Grissom received the

greatest exposure. The cause of the fire has not been

determined.”20

Prior to the completion of the board’s report,

the press was relatively kind to NASA. Business

Week stated, “No previous frontier has ever been

crossed without loss of life. It was not to be

expected that space, the most perilous frontier of

them all could be conquered without sacrifice.” The

Washington Evening Star found that “second

guessers are wondering whether we should be going

to the moon at all. From any rational point of view,

the only thing to do is carry on.” However, Los

Angeles Times editor Marvin Miles accused NASA

of “shortsightedness and trying to hide its negligence.” But Technology Week responded, “Its [sic]

our impression the agency is trying valiantly to

come up with just such information (why the hatch

could not be opened).”21

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 75

18. Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA, and New

York Times (5 February 1967): B13.

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1967: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4008, 1968),

pp. 57, 64–71.
I prepared the third and last report for Mr.

Webb based on my visit to the Cape on 25

February. The board expressed the view that the

experience in tests and in flights prior to the accident suggested that the probability of fire was low.

Neither the crew nor the development and test personnel considered the risk of fire to be high. The

board did not recommend changing the pure-oxygen system or the planned cabin pressure.22

Monday, 27 February 1967,

Senate Hearing

In testimony before the Senate Committee on

Aeronautical and Space Science on 27 February,

George Mueller outlined an extensive program of

redesign and testing, as well as a number of procedural changes. Specifics included an escape hatch

that could be opened in 2 seconds, a search for new

and less flammable materials for the cabin and

spacesuits, and a review of emergency procedures.

He guaranteed that all improvements and changes

would be incorporated into an advanced version of

the Block II Apollo spacecraft. During the question

period, Senator Mondale asked about a report on

the performance of North American Aviation. Mr.

Webb referred the question to George Mueller and

Sam Phillips in turn. Neither one had knowledge of

such a report, although a NASA tiger team had

investigated North American and had found faulty

workmanship, spotty organization, and other deficiencies. Sam had reported the results to me at the

previous December status review. I wondered to

myself if Senator Mondale had seen the findings

and recommendations of our study. So I explained

that from time to time, NASA had onsite reviews of

contractor progress and that the information

Senator Mondale was referencing might be in this

category. When the session was over, Jim Webb told

me to return to Headquarters with him and our

General Counsel, Paul Dembling. Jim’s “limo” was

a Checker cab painted black with a window

between the driver and the backseat occupants.

Once aboard, Jim quickly cranked up the window

and lacerated me in no uncertain terms. These hearings weren’t the love-fests we normally had had

with Congress in the past. Millions of dollars could

be riding on the outcome, and under no circumstances should information be volunteered. I said I

believed that Senator Mondale was using a set of

transparencies used by the tiger team in their presentation. Jim cut me off almost before I’d finished

the sentence. The lecture continued until we left the

car. As I was recovering my equilibrium, Paul came

into my office holding a thick document. The first

two words on the first page were “This report.”

Sure enough, the report was a bound copy of all the

transparencies used by the tiger team when it

reported on its review of North American. The first

page merely explained the circumstances for the

investigation. I should have taken this document

into Jim, but my instant reaction was for Paul to do

the honors so that I could sit in my office, catch my

breath, and review the situation. 

World Travel

I’d planned an extensive NASA trip around the

world prior to the Apollo fire. Was it appropriate 

to be traveling around the world at this time? Jim

Webb felt that Gene and I should still go. So the first 

stop was Paris to attend the Advisory Group for

Aerospace Research and Development (AGARD),

a North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) scientific and technical meeting. Then it was off to Kenya,

with a plane change in Rome, where we were joined

by Professor Luigi Brolio, who headed the San

Marco project, a joint U.S.-Italian project for launching a satellite from the Indian Ocean near the equator. The United States was providing the boosters; the

Italians, everything else, including the platforms and

the satellite. When we arrived at the airport in Rome,

it was a mass of cables. Joseph Stalin’s daughter had

just asked for asylum in the United States; she had

left India and was on her way to New York. Later in

the day, we changed planes in Nairobi for Mombasa

on the coast. It was 11 March, and we celebrated

Gene’s birthday there. The next day, an Arab drove

us in a Jeep along the coast to Campa Basa, the

Italian base camp. Rubber boats took us to the two

Italian platforms in the Indian Ocean, where we

inspected their preparation for a satellite launch and

enjoyed a delicious lunch outdoors near the equator.

The next stop, in Bombay, India, provided me with

an opportunity to visit the Tata Research Institute, a

rocket-development site, and a nuclear facility. We

76 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

22. Ibid.
then had a lovely day in New Delhi with old friends

Galen and Ann Stone. He was in charge of our

embassy when Stalin’s daughter knocked on the

door. On 17 March, we arrived at Honeysuckle

Creek Tracking Station near Canberra, Australia.

The then-newest member of NASA’s 16-station network for Apollo missions was dedicated by the

Australian Prime Minister, Henry Holt, and me, with

an assist from Ed Buckley, the NASA Associate

Administrator for Tracking and Data Acquisition.

Vice President Humphrey cabled his congratulations

to the Prime Minister, and then the two had an 

animated conversation. 

Saturday, 15 April 1967, Final

Report on Apollo 204 Fire

The Apollo 204 review board final report was

submitted to Mr. Webb on 5 April 1967. The board

identified the conditions that had led to the disaster

as follows:

1. A sealed cabin, pressurized with a highpressure oxygen atmosphere

2. Extensive combustible material in the

cabin

3. Vulnerable wiring

4. Inadequate provision for escape or rescue

This report provided 21 recommendations,

including the following:

1. Review of life-support system

2. Investigation of effective ways to control and extinguish cabin fire

3. Severe restrictions on combustible

material

4. Reduction in time required for astronauts to egress in emergency

5. Continued study of two-gas cabin

atmosphere

6. Full-scale mock-up tests23

The accident review board, under Tommy

Thompson, with astronaut Frank Borman as 

the spokesman, performed a wonderful service for

NASA. Their conclusions and recommendations

were sound and inclusive. Frank was articulate as

he presented the information and answered questions. In particular, he said that if the findings were

followed, he would have no problem stepping into

the capsule himself. 

From my own standpoint, I didn’t feel that

NASA and its contractors required major surgery.

Obviously management and procedures can be

improved, but faulty administration didn’t cause

the loss of Apollo 204. Rather, it was an error in

engineering judgment, and we were all guilty.

Astronauts should never have been subjected to

14.7 pounds per square inch, or psi (sea-level pressure) of pure oxygen. Once a fire starts under this

condition, it cannot be suppressed. Before the fire,

NASA tested all aspects of the equipment to be used

in flight. There were tests for vibration, temperature, and pressure. Rocket motors were fired many

times, as were each of the Saturn I and Saturn V

stages. But NASA never tested a boilerplate capsule

for fire. We would have been horrified by the result,

the fire would have been so intense. However, at the

partial pressure of oxygen as we find it in the

atmosphere at sea level (3.5 psi), the burn rate is the

same for a single gas as for multiple gases, as found

in nature.

A single-gas system was selected for good reasons. Number one was simplicity. Only one system

of tanks and controls was required to feed oxygen

into the capsule and the astronauts’ pressurized

suits. Also, there was no concern about rapid pressure changes of nitrogen, which can lead to physiological problems including the bends. So pure

oxygen was used with great success in both

Mercury and Gemini capsules, and on the basis of

this experience, NASA continued the same practice in Apollo. The mistake was not in the use of

pure oxygen, but in filling the capsule and astronauts

with pure oxygen at sea-level pressure. If the oxygen

had been maintained at 3.5 psi while the nitrogen

had been bled out as the Apollo went into orbit, fire

could have been contained and extinguished. 

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 77

23. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1967: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4008, 1968), 

p. 23.
North American Aviation (NAA) fell from

grace as a result of the fire. In our congressional

hearings, it became known that a NASA tiger team

had censured them for sloppy workmanship. They

countered with their early recommendation for a

two-gas system. It’s true that North American had

recommended a two-gas system; however, NASA

maintained its single-gas position for the reasons

mentioned in the previous paragraphs. NAA was

selected as the contractor for the Apollo capsule

and service module even though Martin Marietta

was scored higher by the source evaluation board.

At the meeting after the board’s presentation, Bob

Gilruth met with Jim Webb and the other members

of the Triad. He expressed concern that Martin

hadn’t had any aircraft experience for years and

Apollo was to be flown by the astronauts. We then

listed recent NAA aircraft experience. There were

many, with the X-15 heading the list. The X-15 had

had many successful flights, both inside and outside

the atmosphere, at speeds up to 7,000 mph. After

Bob left the room, we examined Martin’s strengths

and determined that they excelled in areas not as

key to the success of Apollo as North American’s

high-speed flight capability. Hugh Dryden prepared a handwritten list of all aircraft developed

and produced by North American. I kept his note

in my files, and it became a most useful document

during our congressional hearings when the reason

for our selection was coming into question. NASA

was exonerated from selection complicity, but our

ability to manage was still in question and had to

be proven again. 

Sunday, 23 April 1967, Soyuz I,

Vladimir Komarov’s Fatal Flight

On 23 April, the USSR launched its Soyuz I

spacecraft with a single cosmonaut, Vladimir

Komarov, in control. After completing his mission,

Komarov attempted to reenter the atmosphere, but

failed when he was unable to control his spacecraft.

On the 18th orbit, after successful braking for reentry, the parachute lines apparently became snarled

and the “spacecraft descended at great speed.”

Komarov was buried in the Kremlin Wall. President

Johnson, Vice President Humphrey, Mr. Webb, and

our astronauts all sent messages of sympathy to the

Soviet Union.24 

Tuesday, 9 May 1967, Senate

Hearing Program and Contractual

Changes

Jim Webb, George Mueller, and I appeared

before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and

Space Sciences on 9 May 1967. Mr. Webb noted that

arrangements for some of the prime Apollo companies were being realigned. NASA had negotiated a

strong incentive contract with North American for

the fabrication, testing, and delivery of Block II

spacecraft and had expanded Boeing’s responsibilities to include integration of all elements in the

Apollo/Saturn stack. These included the three stages

of Saturn V, the instrument unit, the Lunar Lander,

and the Apollo capsule and service module. I commented on the schedule, saying that landing before

1970 remained possible. George Mueller discussed in

detail NASA’s response to the Apollo review board.

For the time being at least, George testified that a single-gas system would continue to be utilized. All

other recommendations of the board would be followed, and in addition, a new Office of Flight Safety

was being established to evaluate safety provisions

and monitor test operations. The officer in charge

would report directly to George. 

Thursday, 9 November 1967,

First Flight of Saturn V

Thursday, 9 November, was the day planned to

determine in dramatic fashion the validity of all-up

systems testing. Four flights of Saturn I were allocated to tests of its first stage before the second

stage was included. All four flights were completely

successful, and the option to move Saturn I’s development ahead faster was delayed two years. How

different the first Saturn V flight test was. On the

launchpad were the three stages of Saturn V, the

Saturn instrument package, the Apollo capsule, and

its service module. There was the whole enchilada

except the lunar excursion module (LEM). A press

conference was held outdoors the day before the

launch, with Kurt Debus and me officiating. We faced

over 1,000 members of the media with the Saturn V

steaming behind us. The remarkable backdrop was

awesome. At the press conference, I explained that in

addition to testing all three stages of the Saturn V, we

were using the service module rocket engine to take

78 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

24. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1967: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4008, 1968),

pp. 101–102.
JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 79

Figure 18. On 9 November 1967, Apollo 4, the test flight of the Apollo/Saturn V space vehicle, was launched from Kennedy Space

Center Launch Complex 39. This was an unmanned test flight intended to prove that the complex Saturn V rocket could perform

its requirements. (NASA Image Number 67-60629, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2000-000044.html)
80 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

the capsule to a higher altitude and drive it back

into the atmosphere at near-lunar-reentry velocity.

With such a large press corps, including Soviet and

other foreign correspondents, there were bound to

be tough questions—and there were. Weren’t we

taking too big a risk with all-up testing? If the first

stage exploded, could the astronauts escape? Afterwards, I apologized to Kurt Debus for the press conference ordeal. Don’t, he said; a free press is essential

to democracy. He added that during World War II in

Nazi Germany, he had had no information on the

war’s progress except what was spoon-fed by Joseph

Goebbels. Kurt continued, “I really believed the news

Goebbels propagated.”

The countdown to the Saturn’s launch proceeded

without a hitch; all seated in the viewing stands

heard the tremendous pent-up energy suddenly

being released when the Saturn V reached the position shown in figure 18. Saturn V was just nearly

clearing the tower, and the sound was just reaching

the viewing stand. The sight and sound were truly

awesome. The sound was heard by the ear as lots of

noise crackling and popping, and by the body as a

rumbling vibration. Dr. William Donn of Columbia

University found the Saturn V blastoff to be one of

the loudest natural or manmade noises in history,

excepting nuclear detonations.

Early indications from the first Saturn V flight

(also called the Apollo 4 mission) were all favorable.

Later, analyses of the data showed that the thrusts of

all the engines were well within tolerances and that

the capsule approached Earth’s atmosphere at close to

the nominal 7 degrees below the horizon and at a

speed of 24,900 miles per hour. 25

The Command Module landed near Hawaii

and was picked up successfully by the USS

Bennington 2.25 hours after splashdown. The rocket motors, the structure, the controls, the instrumentation, the guidance, and the heatshield all had

been completely successful. The members of

NASA’s highly professional rocket team, headed by

Wernher von Braun, were astounded, and George

Mueller was vindicated for his bold planning and

execution. 

Sam Phillips was moved to say that he was

tremendously impressed with the smooth teamwork

exhibited. Werner von Braun said that no single

event since the formation of the Marshall Space

Flight Center in 1960 equaled that day’s launch in

significance. Jim Webb praised the devotion and

quality workmanship of the 300,000 men and

women working on the Apollo Program. And

President Johnson said, “The whole world could

see the awesome sight of the first launch of what is

now the largest rocket ever flown. This launching

symbolizes the power this nation is harnessing for

the peaceful exploration of space.”

As Jim Webb said, well over a quarter of a million individuals were responsible for the Apollo

mission and the flights to follow. And within this

team were many leaders from universities, industry,

and the government. Those in NASA with major

management responsibilities who deserve great

credit obviously include the following: 

• Keith Glennan, who formed NASA and

pushed it hard 

• Jim Webb, who kept an umbrella over our

heads even in stormy times

• Hugh Dryden, a respected scientist who

understood the machinations of government 

• George Mueller, who brought new ideas

and experienced personnel to NASA with

steely-eyed precision

• Joe Shea, who shifted John Houbolt’s

lunar orbit rendezvous onto the front

burner and then managed the spacecraft

development 

• George Low, who started early in the program and stayed late, holding many key

assignments 

• Sam Phillips, former project leader of the

Minuteman ICBM, whose experience in

juggling many balls was essential to success 

• Abe Silverstein, who helped get Apollo off

to a fast start and provided assistance in his

director’s role at Lewis Research Center

• Tommy Thompson, who spawned the

Space Task Group and chaired the Apollo

accident review board

24. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1967: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4008, 1968),

pp. 339–341.
• Eberhard Ress, the general manager who

made Wernher von Braun’s visions come

true 

• Rocco Petrone, who was responsible for

the zero stage of Apollo, the massive

ground facilities at Kennedy Space Center

• Edmund Buckley, who provided the necessary world communication network for

tracking and data acquisition

And the leaders of the three Apollo Centers:

• Wernher von Braun, Director of Marshall

Space Flight Center

• Bob Gilruth, Director of the Manned

Spacecraft Center

• Kurt Debus, Director of John F. Kennedy

Space Center

All of these people had to deal with many difficult issues. 

This is an important but incomplete list of

those who had major management responsibilities

for manned spaceflight in the 1960s. There was also

a large cadre of scientists and engineers who jumped

into the breach on many occasions. I especially

would like to mention Max Faget and John Houbolt.

Max Faget’s spacecraft designs, with their blunt

bodies forward, brought our astronauts successfully

through flaming reentries and back to Earth.

Without John’s persistence and creativity, we would

not have selected the lunar orbit rendezvous mode

for the lunar landing and we would not have successfully landed on the Moon. I was extremely fortunate to work with such talented individuals.

When I arrived at NASA, Mercury was front and

center, and our objective, as President Eisenhower

indicated at a Cabinet meeting, was to accomplish

as much as possible for $1 billion. And Keith

Glennan, the first Administrator, did an excellent

job with these funds, laying the groundwork for

what was to follow.

When the Soviets threw down the gauntlet for

the fifth time with the Gagarin flight, President

Kennedy accepted the challenge and NASA

embarked on Apollo, a most ambitious program.

As general manager of NASA for seven years, I had

overall responsibility for all aspects of NASA

research and project planning, development, and

flight operations, both manned and unmanned. In

this monograph, I have attempted to outline the

steps that NASA took to advance manned spaceflight during my tenure. Important though the

unmanned programs for science, meteorology, and

communications were, I included in this monograph only those unmanned projects directly relevant to the Apollo landing. The following chapter

describes NASA’s organization and the tools that I

used as general manager of NASA from 1

September 1960 to January 1968. 

JOHNSON’S SOLID SUPPORT 81

NASA MANAGEMENT 83

NASA was formed from a number of separate

entities, and hence was a hybrid organization. Four of its Centers were formerly the

action arms of the National Advisory Committee for

Aeronautics, one was central to development at the

Army’s Redstone Arsenal, one grew from a Navy

research team, and one was a nonprofit organization

managed by the California Institute of Technology. A

diagram of their antecedents is shown in figure 5 (see

chapter 3), along with the Soviet counterpart. Each

of these teams had a nucleus of highly qualified leaders

supported by strong scientific and technical personnel.

Langley Research Center was the original

NACA laboratory formed in 1915. Its pilotless aircraft division assumed responsibility for the Mercury

program in NASA’s first six months of operation.

The so-called Space Task Group became 1,000

Chapter 5:

NASA MANAGEMENT

strong at Langley before transferring to Houston,

Texas, to become the Manned Spacecraft Center,

ultimately renamed Johnson Space Center. 

Originally, flight operations were conducted at

Cape Canaveral on a project-by-project basis, with

the responsibilities vested in the Space Task Group

for Mercury, Marshall Space Flight Center for

Saturn, and JPL and Goddard Space Flight Center

for the unmanned satellites and probes. The coordination of the resulting projects with the management of the Air Force Atlantic Missile Range

became too unwieldy, especially when the Mercury

program was joined by the addition of Gemini and

then Apollo. So in 1961, the total Cape effort was

integrated under a single director and became

known as the Space Flight Center until later, when

it became the John F. Kennedy Space Center. 
NACA-Derived Centers

The four Centers derived from the NACA were

the already-mentioned Langley Research Center in

Hampton, Virginia, as well as Ames Research Center

in Moffett Field, California; Lewis Research Center

in Cleveland, Ohio (now called Glenn Research

Center); and Dryden Flight Research Center in

Edwards, California. Langley was more general-purpose and project-oriented, Ames concentrated on

supersonic flight, Lewis concentrated on propulsion,

and Dryden was for flight-testing. 

At the time NASA was formed, the NACA was

devoted almost entirely to aeronautics—astronautical studies were not encouraged. Its Centers were

strictly for research and testing, with a wide variety

of supporting wind tunnels and other test facilities.

These Centers were recognized as preeminent in

their fields by both the military and industry. Topgrade personnel were attracted to, and retained by,

these Centers because of the importance of their

research and the second-to-none tools available for

aeronautical studies. Their charter was to support

military and commercial aviation. The decision to

conduct specific studies was entirely the responsibility of the Centers and NACA management.

Suggestions to conduct the efforts on a reimbursable

basis were always quashed for fear of NACA’s

becoming a “job shop” and thereby losing control.

However, both the military and industry provided

wind tunnel models, test equipment, and, on many

occasions, full-scale aircraft for research and test purposes. For example, the X-15 aircraft was financed

by the Air Force in consultation with the NACA; it

was designed and built by North American Aviation

under contract to the Air Force; and the flight

research was the responsibility of the NACA. 

When NASA was formed, the role of the

NACA Centers was expanded to include aerospace

research and, in some cases, actual project responsibility—for example, the Mercury Space Task

Group and the unmanned Lunar Orbiter, both at

Langley, and the Agena launch vehicles at Lewis.

The research funding for aeronautics was carried as

a line item in the budget, as was some of the funding for aerospace studies. However, there was also

a supporting research and technology subline item

for each manned and unmanned space project.

These funds were distributed throughout NASA. 

I remember Hugh Dryden’s admonition to me:

“Don’t let them include the supporting research as

a lump-sum line item, it’s much too easy for the

Congress to dissect and eliminate.”

When technical problems arose in the management of major projects, it was most advantageous to

have available research personnel at both the

research and the flight Centers. This was the case in

a major way after the Apollo fire; individuals truly

knowledgeable and coming from a wide variety 

of fields could be immediately deployed to the accident review committee conducting this investigation. In times of crisis, a strictly project organization

must reach out to other organizations, usually on

contract. Then, if the investigating consulting firm’s

conclusion differs from that of the contractor that

experienced the accident, whom does the government believe? When conducting advanced technical

efforts, it’s imperative to maintain in-house technical

skills of a high order. But high-grade technical personnel cannot be stockpiled. They must be given real

rabbits to chase or they will lose their cutting edge

and eventually seek other employment.

The Centers for Unmanned Missions

Goddard Space Flight Center

The Goddard Space Flight Center was an offshoot of the Vanguard Project that was managed by

the Naval Research Laboratory. The Center had

primary responsibility for geophysical and solar

research, astronautical observatories, and applications such as meteorological and communication

satellites. This Center also was responsible for the

tracking and communication stations for nearEarth manned and unmanned vehicles. Harry Goett

was its first Director. He and his boss, Abe

Silverstein, Associate Administrator for Space

Programs, attracted an excellent team that managed

a wide variety of unmanned space vehicles and

even, for a time, the Space Task Group at Langley.

Jet Propulsion Laboratory

The Jet Propulsion Laboratory operated under

the aegis of the California Institute of Technology on

contract with NASA. In the lingo of today, JPL

comes under the rubric of Federally Funded Research

and Development Center, or FFRDC. See chapter 4

for an earlier discussion of this type or organization.

JPL was responsible for all unmanned lunar

and planetary vehicles, including the already84 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
discussed Ranger and Surveyor programs, as well as

Mariner and Voyager, in addition to the Deep Space

Network. JPL had a great deal more flexibility in its

personnel management than the other NASA

Centers. Most other NASA employees were civil

servants. However, NASA was allowed to hire a

certain number of employees to fill excepted positions at the discretion of the Administrator. This

permitted prompt hiring of exceptional candidates

who could later be folded into government civil

service positions at the appropriate level. And many

of NASA’s senior personnel, such as the Associate

Administrators, continued as excepted employees

throughout their tenure. 

Two major issues festered amongst the NASACaltech-JPL threesome, one internal to JPL and the

other primarily with Caltech. The contract with

Caltech expired in 1963. Caltech was receiving a

substantial fee, and for what purpose? Caltech’s primary responsibility was selecting the JPL Director,

certainly not a major budget drain. Lee Dubridge,

president of Caltech, said that the fee compensated

for the risk to his institution if there were major

accidents. On the positive side, he said that JPL, by

receiving its funds through Caltech, was given the

aura of a premier institution. And, he added, hiring

key personnel was facilitated by joint appointments

at JPL and Caltech, although there were only a few

of these. It was hard to justify the fee; as a result,

Congress, and especially the chairman of our appropriation subcommittee, tried to restrain or eliminate

funding for JPL. The impasse was partially resolved

by transferring the responsibility for the Lunar

Orbiter to Langley. This improved NASA’s negotiating leverage with Caltech and resulted in a fee

reduction. Then we hardballed the subcommittee

chairman, Albert Thomas, by coupling the funding

for the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston (his

district) with the funding for JPL. 

Difficulties in the management of JPL were

much easier to address. Bill Pickering, the Director,

was a talented leader, but not strong on administration. For example, when the Ranger spacecraft was

undergoing final vacuum tests, new components

would be introduced as flight articles without

authorization. Although the components might

have improved performance, other parts of the

spacecraft might have been adversely affected by

their inclusion. After discussion and prodding, Al

Luedecke became the manager of the Laboratory.

He’d had similar responsibilities in the Atomic

Energy Commission. From then on, the discipline in

the Laboratory was materially improved. 

I’m afraid I was on JPL’s most wanted list—that

is, most wanted to leave—for pressing hard for

organizational changes, but thanks to all concerned, JPL has conducted outstanding scientific

investigations of our planets and their moons in the

last quarter century. 

The Centers for Manned Spaceflight 

Marshall Space Flight Center

Marshall Space Flight Center has a strong 

heritage that dates back to World War II. Wernher

von Braun worked at Peenemünde, the center on 

the Baltic where the Germans developed their

“vengeance” weapons, the V-1 and the V-2. The V-2

was a ballistic missile that attacked targets at supersonic speed. Means didn’t exist for defense against it,

but fortunately, they weren’t available until near the

war’s end. Wernher and his team managed to circumvent the Gestapo and were later captured by the

United States. This group, which included many of

the top leadership, fled to Bavaria, bringing with

them reports and drawings. After their capture by the

United States, they were whisked to the White Sands

Proving Ground as prisoners of war. Over time, they

became U.S. citizens, were joined by their families,

and became managers of the research and development programs at the Army Redstone Arsenal. Prior

to leaving White Sands, they converted captured 

V-2 weapons into sounding rockets. At the Redstone

Arsenal, they developed newer, more advanced missiles. Their Redstone missile launched Alan Shepard

and Gus Grissom into suborbital flight. Prior to that,

they launched the JPL-built Explorer 1, the first U.S.

satellite, into orbit. For a more detailed account of

their exodus from Peenemünde, see pages 114

through 118 of History of Rocketry and Space Travel

by Wernher von Braun and Frederick Ordway III.

Wernher and his team had trouble letting go of

projects. Arsenal types by experience, they developed, constructed, tested, and launched vehicles

with precision, but they had limited skill in contracting with industry for these capabilities. At one

point, they recommended canceling the contract

with General Dynamics for the Centaur booster. A

Headquarters command decision immediately

transferred the responsibility of Centaur to Lewis

Research Center. Since then, the Centaur has

NASA MANAGEMENT 85
become a reliable workhorse providing propulsion

for many important missions. 

Real progress was made when Bob Young from

Aerojet Corporation joined Wernher and established a project office for each of the major projects

under Marshall’s control. Bob had a project director for the F-1 and J-2 rocket engines, each of the

two stages of Saturn I, the first and second stages of

Saturn V, and the instrument module. The third

stage of Saturn V was similar to the second stage of

Saturn I, and the project management was shared.

A contract was responsible for the design, fabrication, and testing of each unit. Also, as previously

mentioned, Boeing was responsible not only for the

first stage of Saturn V, but also for integrating all

three stages of the Saturn V vehicle and, in turn, the

Apollo and the Lunar Lander. 

Manned Spacecraft Center

The Manned Spacecraft Center, now the

Lyndon Johnson Space Center, was transported

from Tidewater, Virginia, to the lowlands of

Houston. Water transportation for low-draft craft

was available from the Center to Galveston Bay. At

the time of acquisition, this attribute was included

as a requirement, but its use was never exercised. At

the time of President Kennedy’s visit in December of

1962, the Center existed in rental space throughout

Houston. However, by the time Gemini missions

began, the Center was in full swing on acreage contributed by the city fathers.

Mission Control was the nexus of the Center.

That’s where the astronauts and mission hardware

came together with the worldwide tracking and

communication network. There were a variety of

flight simulators that could be introduced to add

realism to rendezvous and lunar landing operations.

In addition to running regular missions, a wide

assortment of adverse situations could be introduced

to educate and test the skills of all participants. 

This Center was home for the astronauts. Their

training started here. Their medical testing and

physical fitness programs were conducted at the

Center, as were a wide variety of special simulators

for docking with other craft and conducting extravehicular activities. This latter type of testing and training is most accurately simulated under water. Today,

the Center has a pool large enough to test major 

sections of the International Space Station. 

Kennedy Space Center 

The launch facilities at the Cape, now incorporated into the John F. Kennedy Space Center, were

responsible for what was often called the zero stage.

This Center interfaced in many ways with the vehicles to be launched. The vehicles had to be mounted

on the launchpad, either from the start, when under

assembly, or, in the case of Apollo/Saturn V, after

being assembled in the VAB and transported on the

crawler to the pad. There were hold-down clamps

used for 3 or 4 seconds to be certain that the appropriate thrust was obtained and swingback arms disconnecting electrical and hydraulic connections.

Near the pad were liquid-hydrogen and -oxygen

tanks to keep topping off the vehicle tanks that

were continually evaporating and emitting gas into

the atmosphere. 

There was much coordination required with

the Air Force’s missile range. The most critical area

was range safety. If a vehicle veered off toward a

populated area such as Miami, it had to be immediately destroyed. But with the astronauts aboard,

time was needed for their escape. With Mercury

and Apollo, the escape rocket pulled the capsule

clear of a potential accident, but with Gemini, there

was a seat-ejection system—the capsule remained

attached to the launch vehicle. In all cases, parachutes brought the astronauts back to Earth. 

Lessons Learned at the Centers

NASA gained experience with two types of center organization: civil service centers and JPL, an

FFRDC. In making a comparison between the two

forms, it must be recognized that when government

resources are used, the government is accountable

for the expenditures. For this reason, functions such

as procurement, launch, and flight operations

should remain under direct NASA control.

As has already been mentioned, the use of

excepted positions alleviated the difficulty of hiring

key personnel, but many were later rolled into the

civil service. However, cutbacks in civil service personnel were much more difficult. Firing an individual requires extensive liturgical-type proceedings

with the individual, all under the oversight of the

Civil Service Commission. A reduction in force

(RIF) is more manageable, but in that instance, jobs

are eliminated, not individuals. When a job is no

86 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
longer required, the individual holding the job may

have seniority over another individual and take

over his or her billet. To defeat this difficulty,

Marshall Space Flight Center is reported to have

developed a special personnel computer program to

release specific individuals. Their scheme may be

apocryphal, but it was believable to those who have

dealt with management issues in the government.

The FFRDC provided much greater personnel flexibility, including the possibility of higher salaries for

those carrying greater responsibility, although their

salaries and total numbers do come under congressional scrutiny. However, FFRDCs have limitations.

The government must take overall responsibility for

procurement, including second- as well as first-tier

contracts. What would be a large prime contract for

a civil service center becomes a second-tier in an

FFRDC. Surveyor, the lunar soft-lander, was one

such contract. Hughes Aircraft held the contract

with JPL. But when serious delays occurred and

costs escalated, NASA didn’t have direct control of

this project even though it was of great consequence

to the Apollo manned lunar landing. The situation

deteriorated, and ultimately, NASA’s senior management had to take strenuous action. 

NASA Program Offices 

NASA program offices were of necessity in

Washington, DC. They had to be close to NASA’s

functional and administrative offices, as well as the

executive office and Congress. Much of the congressional testimony was provided by program personnel. The nature of the program offices must reflect

the contemporary responsibilities of the Agency.

There shouldn’t be too many program offices; their

assignments shouldn’t overlap any more than necessary; and project execution should, wherever possible, be conducted by their assigned Centers. 

In 1967, there were three program offices,

namely, Advanced Research and Technology,

Manned Space Flight, and Space Science and

Applications. The application projects included

meteorology and communications, which were at

one time separate from space science activities, but

the projects were assigned to Goddard Space Flight

Center, as were many of the space science projects.

Priorities between science and applications were a

potential source of conflict at the Center when it

reported to two different program offices. 

The communication and tracking projects were

combined into a program office without line

responsibility. The office had no control of any

Center, but it did have direct responsibility for all

surface networks. The antennas ranged from small

to medium for Earth orbiting, as well as manned

and unmanned vehicles, to large 220-foot antennas

for manned lunar missions and distant unmanned

planetary probes. Both Goddard and JPL had project assignments for these activities.

Keeping the Trains on Track

As discussed earlier, an attempt was made to

obtain systems capability in the Manned Space

Flight program office. For a variety of reasons,

NASA was unsuccessful in recruiting sufficient

numbers of individuals in this high-priced and

scarce field. The Bell Laboratories of AT&T established a small subsidiary, Bellcom, to assist in this

area, but there was an alternative long-term solution: independent, nonprofit corporations could be

established for this purpose. Examples included the

Aerospace Corporation to assist the Air Force’s missile and space commands and the MITRE

Corporation for support of Air Force ground capabilities. Other DOD and non-DOD agencies had

similar arrangements. These Federal Contracted

Research Centers (FCRCs) conducted much of the

planning, engineering, and monitoring, but the contracting was handled directly by the matching 

government entity. In Jim Webb’s mind, the use of 

a for-profit entity provided highly desirable flexibility, hence the use of Bellcom, a subsidiary of

AT&T’s Bell Laboratories. Although most of the

technical personnel had to be hired, the internal

administration was transferred in part from the Bell

Laboratories, and there was always wise advice

available at the Bell central headquarters. Finally,

there was no NASA commitment or responsibility

for the future. Of course, using a for-profit can lead

to conflicts if the corporation is also bidding for

hardware contracts in the same area where the

company is providing systems advice. Conflicts of

interest, or their appearance, can be ameliorated by

exclusion clauses, but major corporations are reluctant to be so constrained. Since AT&T was not an

aerospace corporation, no conflict developed, but

caution was still required by both parties. 

NASA MANAGEMENT 87
Day-to-Day Chores

During the six and a half years when I was general manager, I had a variety of chores that would

have to be executed regardless of the Agency’s organizational structure. The mail alone was a huge production. An executive in my office would determine

who in the organization might need to see a piece of

mail before I did. By the time a letter got to my desk,

it might be in a big folder attached to memos from

two dozen people in the organization, all of whom

had ideas about how I should respond. Then, when

my draft response had been written by me or by my

assistant, there might be others I would want to

review the response before it went out, so it might be

recirculated with an endorsement attached, and each

person would initial his approval.

I’m a great believer in face-to-face communication. That is one reason why I held project status

reviews once a month for all NASA activities needing attention. It’s also why I spent one quarter to

one third of my time on the road, traveling to

NASA Centers, contractor facilities, other government agencies, and foreign countries. 

But the spoken word can be misunderstood, and

sometimes all involved in an issue or project cannot

be reached simultaneously. As a consequence, information systems and procedures are a necessity.

Contained in this section are graphic samples of the

systems and procedures used to manage NASA’s

programs during the time I was general manager. 

Organizational Charts 

The first clues about the interrelationships

between individuals in an institution are provided

by organizational charts, sometimes called wiring

diagrams. A chart attempts to show who works for

whom. From the standpoint of any individual, it

provides an answer to the question, “Whom do I

have to satisfy to remain on the job, to obtain a

raise, or to be promoted?” Organizational charts

also provide information in the large. How are

projects, programs, and functions interrelated

under the warm embrace of general management?

Methods for management consumed a lot of Jim

Webb’s time and interest. In my first conversation

with him, as I mentioned earlier, he asked me about

my views on Montgomery Ward’s mode of operation versus that of Sears Roebuck. The NASA that

Jim inherited was nearly hierarchical, definitely in

the Montgomery Ward mold (see figure 19). The

Center Directors reported to the program directors,

who in turn reported to the general manager

(Associate Administrator) and, through him, to the

Administrator. There were functional officers and

staff, but authority flowed in a straight-downward

chain of command from the general manager to the

program offices to the project offices in the Centers.

Incidentally, Doc Draper’s Instrumentation Laboratory, where I spent my first professional years, was

purely hierarchical even with individual projects

having many of their own functional units. 

After extensive discussion internally and with

outside advisors such as Simon Ramo, Rube Mettler,

and Art Malcarney, the organization was decentralized on 1 November 1961, more along the lines 

of Sears Roebuck (see figure 20). Note that the nine

Center Directors and the five program directors

reported to the Associate Administrator. Program

resource allocations were authorized by the

Associate Administrator with the support of the

respective program director. The management activities of the Center Directors were also supervised by

the Associate Administrator, with the assistance of

the Director of the Administrative Office. This structure was introduced to provide more flexibility in the

assignment of projects to the Field Centers and to

provide the core management (the Triad) with

greater visibility and control (see figure 2 in chapter

3). Note that the Center Directors became “twohatted”; that is, in addition to satisfying the Triad

that they were running a “taut ship,” they also had

to satisfy the program directors who were providing

their project assignments and project resources.

I attended Keith Glennan’s last management

retreat, held in October 1960. Jim Webb held a similar retreat in Luray, Virginia, soon after he became

Administrator. However, he felt that the setting

could be subject to congressional criticism and that

the retreat kept key managers out of touch with

their organizations for too long. Henceforth,

retreats were held at NASA centers. This had the

added virtue of providing managers with an opportunity to become more familiar with other parts of

the organization. At one such meeting, held at the

Langley Research Center in 1963, the manned

spacecraft team of Holmes, von Braun, Gilruth, and

Debus strongly objected to the organizational structure implemented in November 1961. Mr. Webb

was so displeased by this confrontation that retreats

88 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
NASA MANAGEMENT 89

Figure 19. NASA organization during the last days of the Eisenhower administration, 17 January 1961. (Source: Jane van Nimmen

and Leonard C. Bruno with Robert L. Rosholt, NASA Historical Data Book, Volume 1: NASA Resources 1958–1968 (Washington,

DC: NASA SP-4012, 1988), p. 608.)
90 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 20. NASA organization as revised to conduct the manned lunar landing, 1 November 1961. (Source: Jane van Nimmen and

Leonard C. Bruno with Robert L. Rosholt, NASA Historical Data Book, Volume 1: NASA Resources 1958–1968 (Washington, DC:

NASA SP-4012, 1988), p. 609.)
NASA MANAGEMENT 91

were forever abandoned; however, soon thereafter,

on the recommendations of many, including myself,

there was a return to a more hierarchical organization (see figure 21). It should be noted, however, that

the program offices and the Administrative Office

continued to report to the Associate Administrator,

thus maintaining their strong central role. 

Soon after I became Deputy Administrator on

21 December 1965, NASA’s functional offices

(those reporting to the Administrator and those

reporting to the Associate Administrator) were

folded together, and all reported to the Office of the

Administrator. This arrangement was discussed

rather extensively at my Senate nomination hearing

on 28 January 1966. The fourth organization chart

(see figure 22) shows diagrammatically the changes

that were made in and around the Office of the

Administrator. Jim Webb was not happy with this

arrangement and continued to prod me and Willis

Shapley for improvements; meanwhile, he introduced changes, such as a secretariat for the control

of communications. I prepared a detailed, 18-page

“eyes only” memorandum on the subject dated 16

December 1966. My recommendations apparently

didn’t satisfy Jim Webb’s restless spirit, and they

became less relevant to him in the wake of the

Apollo 204 disaster.

In January 1966, when Harry Finger and his

committees started reviewing the functional offices

reporting to the Administrator, there were 12, ranging from General Counsel to Public, Defense,

Legislative, and International Affairs. Many dealt

with resources, including Personnel, Programming,

Budgeting, Management Systems, Industry Affairs,

University Affairs, Institutional Development, and

Technology Utilization. Much discussion took place

before a decision was reached to consolidate most 

of these resource functions into the Office of Organization and Management. Recently, in conversation

with Harry Finger, who took over the function in

Figure 21.NASA organization as revised to strengthen Apollo and other project management teams, 1 November 1963. (Source: Jane

van Nimmen and Leonard C. Bruno with Robert L. Rosholt, NASA Historical Data Book, Volume 1: NASA Resources 1958–1968

(Washington, DC: NASA SP-4012, 1988), p. 610.)
92 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

March of 1967, he told me of his many meetings on

the subject with Jim Webb. Jim finally asked him 

if he felt comfortable taking on this broad management role. He answered that he felt somewhat

uneasy. When Jim asked why, Harry answered,

“Because you’re so involved in them.” Jim said,

“No, I want you to handle them.”

Procurement

The preceding organization charts might imply

that all decisions at NASA were made by the Administrator. Obviously, this would be an impossibility.

Organization charts can only partially reveal the

extent of decentralization within an organization. 

In an organization, many functions must be

performed—some in administration, some in programming and budgeting. Which officers are

involved in establishing new top-level positions, in

hiring personnel, in solving adjustments, in promotions, in disciplinary actions? How are audits conducted? How are safety and security inspected and

ensured? How are grants made to universities?

“Who,” “which,” and “how” can be defined by

writing detailed job descriptions, and much NASA

time was expended in this process. 

For myself, I’ve found that flow charts (figure

23) are much easier to comprehend. NASA projects

were managed primarily at the Field Centers. The

project manager at the Center prepared the procurement plan, an extensive document, which then

passed through the Center Director and the program

director, before a review by the procurement officer

at Headquarters. Prior to 1966, final approval was

given by the Associate Administrator. Afterward,

plans came to the Office of the Administrator. 

Once a plan was approved, the project manager

prepared a request for proposal (RFP), which, if

approved, was released by the Headquarters procurement office. The source evaluation board

named in the procurement plan had both line and

staff members, picked for their individual expertise,

who participated in the evaluation. Their effort

started when the RFP went out to the contractors.

Figure 22. NASA organization following the consolidation of general management, 2 January 1966. (Source: Linda Ezell, NASA

Historical Data Book, Volume 2: Programs and Projects, 1958–1968 (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4012, 1988), p. 617.)
Prior to the submission of proposals, the board had

to establish the basis to be used for scoring them.

During the process, strict rules were enforced

regarding communication with the contractors. If a

contactor asked for clarification, all contractors

were informed of the answer. If onsite inspection of

one contractor was desired, all contractors were

inspected. I fenced myself off from the evaluation so

that I could remain immune from questioning by

Congress or the media until the final day when the

selection was made. 

Once the team had prepared its findings, Webb,

Dryden, and I would sit at the head of a table and the

team would make its presentation. If the project was

something coming out of Marshall, Wernher von

Braun would be there watching, though he would

have no say in the meeting. Our procurement people

would be there as well. Webb used such meetings as

a way of educating NASA, as well as a way of looking for hidden agendas. If anybody was trying to

steer the project toward a particular contractor for

whatever reason, we would try to smoke it out. 

Afterward, the three of us would go into Webb’s

office with our chief procurement person, Ernest W.

Brackett, and with Wernher (or his counterpart from

the interested Center). “Okay,” Webb would say,

“we’ve heard the results of the source evaluation

board, now we’d like to hear from you, Wernher.

What wasn’t considered? Is there anything that was

left out that you feel is important?” When he and

Ernie Brackett had their say, they would leave, and

the three of us were left with the decision.

As the junior person, I always went first,

“Okay, Seamans, how do you look at this?” We

would discuss it back, forth, and sideways, as Hugh

and Jim advanced their views too. Finally Webb

would say, “Okay, whom do you think we ought to

pick, Bob?” I would tell him and why. Then Hugh

would have his turn. If Hugh concurred with me,

Jim usually agreed, and then the decision was made.

Otherwise, there would be further discussion until

an agreement was reached. In a few cases, more

information was requested. The morning following

a decision, Webb’s executive secretary would have

prepared a one-page decision paper saying that the

Administrator of NASA had selected, say, North

American Aviation for negotiation for the second

stage of Saturn and giving reasons for the selection.

All three of us would sign it. The press release

would be based on this document, but the document itself was kept on file at NASA in case there

was ever a congressional investigation. 

When an agency like NASA procures buildings

and other facilities, the contractors are provided

NASA MANAGEMENT 93

Figure 23. NASA procurement procedures. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections,

MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
with specifications and designs in the request for

quotation (RFQ), and sealed fixed-price bids must

be submitted by the contractors. The low bidder is

selected if deemed competent, and a fixed-price

contract is signed before work commences. The

Army Corps of Engineers oversaw all of NASA’s

major construction on a sealed-bid basis. Most of

the work for which NASA contracted directly was

for research and development, where fixed-price

contracts are not suitable. There must be pricing

flexibility to accommodate unexpected factors.

Hence, contractors were selected for negotiation.

They were given a letter contract to commence

work in anticipation of a definitive contract later. It

was common practice to negotiate cost plus fixed

fees. When there was a cost overrun, the government covered the contractor’s extra expense, but

the fee from which the contractor derived profit

remained constant. 

NASA started experimenting with incentive

and award fees soon after Jim Webb became its

Administrator. When the incentive is tied to cost,

the contractor shares the cost of overruns with the

government (the contractor’s fee decreases). If cost

savings occur, the contractor’s fee is increased in

proportion. Incentives can be related to schedules

and performance as well as to cost. However, it’s

important not to allow the incentive arrangements

to be overly complex, because then the government

can lose control. The contract can so circumscribe

the contractor’s actions that the government cannot

make needed contractual changes without it

appearing to be a “golden handshake” (to let the

contractor off the hook). Award fees are preferable

in such circumstances. The award is made by the

government against criteria agreed upon in

advance. Such arrangements place highly desirable

constraints on both the government and the contractor. A large percentage of NASA’s Apollo business was conducted on either an incentive or an

award-fees basis. 

Budgeting

The budget is key to all government programs,

and for that reason, the budget process is both

important and time-consuming (see figure 24). There

are periods when an agency must focus on three

budgets. While using the budgetary resources provided in a given year, say fiscal year 1961 (FY61), the

agency may be presenting the administration’s

request to Congress for FY62 and simultaneously

negotiating the FY63 budget with the Office of

Management and Budget and, ultimately, with the

President. (The federal budget for any fiscal year currently runs from October 1 of the previous calendar

year to September 30 of the year in question, but in

the 1960s it ran from July 1 to June 30.) 

On the day the new budget was released, the

media attacked. All over Washington, correspondents nosed into the different agencies to find out

what was important in each budget. We always had

a press conference, which I conducted. As many as

a hundred correspondents would be present. There

might be TV reporters if the subject was sexy

enough. I would run through what was novel in the

budget, a process that might take 2 hours. Then

there were questions. 

I got a fair amount of scar tissue (figuratively

speaking) from my years in government, and a fair

amount of that came from the media. The intense

media interest in the space program was a shock to

me. I liked working with many members of the

press. I understood that I could get gored, but I

tried my best to have a good relationship with

them. Most of them were pretty interesting people

and fun to chat with, but I had to be very careful. 

Bill Hines, the syndicated columnist who had

called me “Moon czar,” was particularly brutal to

NASA. He would stand up and fire questions at us

in a nasty, incisive way. Why were we so plodding?

Why weren’t we moving faster? Why weren’t we

more imaginative? When I came home Thursday

nights, Gene would not let me read his syndicated

articles until after dinner. Or, if they were too

derogatory, she served me a martini first, which

helped some. 

I remember asking John Finney of the New York

Times, “Why can’t you do a positive, upbeat kind of

story on NASA once in awhile?” His answer was,

“Okay, I write a good article, and if I’m lucky it will

be on page 33. If I write something controversial, I

have a chance of getting it on page 1. It’s as simple as

that. I’m paid by what page I get my articles on.” 

History of NASA’s 1962 Fiscal

Year Budget 

NASA’s FY62 budget (see figure 24) was complicated by the changes that occurred starting with

the Eisenhower submission, followed in March by a

94 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
NASA MANAGEMENT 95

Figure 24. Congressional budget history, NASA FY 1962. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and

Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
supplemental request to cover an expanded launch

vehicle effort, and then a major budgetary expansion

in May to initiate Kennedy’s goal of manned lunar

landing within the decade. NASA’s total submission

(budget request) is shown in the first column of 

figure 24. Notice that the submission covers three

categories of activity. Two of these, “Research and

Development” and “Construction of Facilities,” are

so-called “no-year” items; that is, the moneys can

be expended over several years. Money in “Salaries

and Expenses” is one-year money; it doesn’t carry

over to subsequent years. 

The House and Senate receive a budget request

in the form of voluminous reports. They commence

committee hearings once their staffs have digested

the material. The House, with over five times as

many members, breaks its space committee into

subcommittees in order to take a finer grained view

of NASA plans and estimates. The markup of a bill

takes place in a closed session and is then reported

out to the appropriate congressional body, where

open debate takes place on the floor of the House

and Senate with the committee chairmen as protagonists and the committee members in a supporting

role. I have had the unusual experience of sitting on

the floor of the Senate assisting Senator Kerr in such

a debate. I have also spent time outside the House

Chamber and in the House Gallery, making myself

available for questioning. Once the House and

Senate bills have been approved, negotiation between

the two bodies proceeds, culminating with closed

sessions of the conference committee made up of the

senior members of the two authorization committees. 

But even after the President has signed an

authorization bill, it doesn’t provide dollars. First it

must survive the appropriation process. Appropriation is similar to authorization, but its emphasis is

cost. A new laboratory might be included in the cost

of facilities, but if Congressman Albert Thomas,

Chairman of the Independent Agencies Appropriation Subcommittee, were presiding, he might want to

know why the cost covered special clean-air filters

and other high-cost items. The committee might, as a

result of these issues, reduce the estimated cost per

square foot of the authorized building. Ultimately, an

appropriation bill is negotiated and passed by both

houses of Congress. However, even after a bill is

signed by the President, the Office of Management

and Budget holds the purse strings and may not

release all funds to the agency. 

There have been many instances when the

appropriation bill has not been passed by the start

of the fiscal year. In such cases, Congress passes a

continuing resolution, which permits an agency like

NASA to continue its existing programs, but not to

initiate new projects. Finally, within limits prescribed in the authorization bill, the agency is given

the opportunity to reprogram funds from one line

item to another. The reprogramming has to be formally reported to Congress. 

Scheduling

Anyone who has ever remodeled a home recognizes that the effort requires an interleaving of 

contractors. A delay by one has a domino effect on

the others. Many separate schedules determine the

final outcome. 

Figure 25 is a Level 1 chart showing the actual

launch dates of the six Gemini missions to date

(filled-in arrows), as well as the scheduled launch

dates of the remaining six missions (open arrows).

Note that Gemini 6 and 7 were both planned for

December 1965, within 10 days of one another. The

“76” mission, as it came to be called, has already

been discussed earlier in this book. 

NASA also used Level 2 and Level 3 charts,

which showed in greater, and still greater, detail the

sequencing of the many work packages that had to

be completed in order to achieve a launch. Such

charts are essential for those with hands-on responsibility, but they do not reveal whether a project is

staying on track or whether, as happens most often,

deadlines are “slipping” (constantly being moved

toward a later date). Such slippages usually result in

escalating costs. 

To stay alert to and (hopefully) prevent slippages, I developed and implemented “trend charts”

(see figure 26) like the one drawn for a hypothetical

mission. If, on 1 January 1961, a launch had been

scheduled for November 1963, and if that launch

had stayed on schedule throughout the reporting

periods in 1962 and 1963, progress would be

shown as a straight, horizontal line labeled

“IDEAL.” If, instead, the project kept slipping its

deadlines such that the launch did not occur until

some time in 1965, its trend would have followed a

jagged line like the one labeled “ACTUAL.” Note

96 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
NASA MANAGEMENT 97

Figure 25. Gemini master launch schedule on 10 December 1965, with Gemini 7 in orbit and Gemini 6 about to be launched. Five

additional Gemini missions remained. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections,

MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
that in this hypothetical case, the schedule held

pretty well until March 1963, when a nearly dayfor-day slippage began to occur, ultimately delaying

the launch nearly two years.

The trend chart for the complete Gemini

Program of 12 launches dated 31 October 1966 is

shown in figure 27. Originally, the program was to

be completed by June of 1963. However, after

negotiations with McDonnell Douglas were complete and the contract was definitized, the final

launch was scheduled for early 1967. It is a tribute

to George Mueller and the entire Gemini government-industry team that the 12 launches were completed ahead of schedule. 

Project Approval 

When DeMarquis “D.” Wyatt became the director of the Office of Programs at NASA, we agreed

to use as simple a system as possible to release

research, development, and facility funding. 

We attempted to keep each Project Approval

Document (PAD) less than a page in length and to

use the same format for each document, one of my

pet idiosyncrasies. The PAD included the project

number, program, project name, and purpose. It

also included the “level of effort” (budgetary limits)

in thousands of dollars. Finally, a project might

have a variety of special stipulations. An example is

shown in figure 28.

98 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 26. This chart shows a hypothetical mission experiencing major delay. This type of chart was used to focus management on

unfavorable project trends. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT

Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
I don’t know how many hundreds of PADs D.

Wyatt and I signed, but the 72 PADs related 

to Apollo are contained in figure 29. PADs were the

basis for the monthly status reviews that I held 

with each of the program directors. These reviews 

included an updating of costs, schedules, and performance, with emphasis on areas where deficiencies

existed. The approval documents and the agenda for

their monthly review resulted from interaction

between D. Wyatt’s office and the control group in

each program office. 

There were two regularly scheduled Headquarters sessions each month. I chaired the Project

Status Reviews and Jim Webb the Program Review.

I’m a strong believer in management oversight and

correction on a monthly basis. On a quarterly time

scale, details can be blurred between meetings, and it

may become too late to head off impending disaster.

I also believe that key line personnel must be present, as well as representation from the functional

offices. When the meeting was on manned spaceflight issues, either George Mueller or the Gemini

and Apollo directors, Chuck Mathews and Sam

Phillips, were present. Prior to the meeting, I had a

session with D. Wyatt and his program office to

review the agenda and the critical areas that needed

discussion. Soon after the meeting, the action items

would be documented, signed by me, and sent to

the appropriate managers.

The purpose of the Program Reviews was to

bring Mr. Webb and NASA’s leadership up to date

on NASA’s entire effort. The sessions consumed an

entire Saturday and were repeated on Mondays for

other government agencies. These meetings also

NASA MANAGEMENT 99

Figure 27. Trend chart for Gemini’s 12 launches as of 31 October 1966, 11 days before the completion of the program. (Source:

Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
100 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 28. Project Approval Document (PAD) for the Apollo spacecraft, 18 December 1961. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr.,

papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
NASA MANAGEMENT 101

Figure 29. Project Approval Documents for the Apollo Program. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
provided Jim with an opportunity to educate NASA

on his expectations, and he was voluble and not

bashful. Sometimes I’d receive a call with the

words, “I don’t know what he’s talking about.” I

hope my response was helpful, but I would always

add, “In the future, you better listen carefully.” 

Apollo Management

This section includes a discussion of the organizational evolution during the sixties. When George

Mueller became the Associate Administrator 

of Manned Space Flight, the Apollo and Saturn

project offices soon became two-hatted, as shown

in figure 30. 

Lieutenant General Samuel Phillips was

assigned to NASA to serve as the director of the

Apollo Program Office at the request of George

Mueller, Associate Administrator for Manned

Space Flight. The project directors (Apollo, Saturn

I/IB, Saturn V, and Launch Operations) all reported

to Sam Phillips on Apollo matters. Each had five

functional offices for program control, systems

engineering, test, reliability-quality, and flight operations. These functional offices communicated

directly with each other, but decisions at each

Center were made by the project directors.

Meanwhile, it was the responsibility of the Center

Directors (in Texas, Alabama, and Florida) to provide an appropriate institutional environment for

the projects. Their duties included the allocation of

personnel. Also, the Center Directors had Apollo

Program input through George Mueller. When Sam

Phillips reported to George periodically, the Center

Directors were present, serving as members of his

Apollo Board of Directors.

I never attended George’s Apollo reviews, just

as Jim Webb never sat in on my Project Status

Reviews. However, their timing and brutal detail

102 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 30. Management organization for the Apollo Program. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
NASA MANAGEMENT 103

Figure 31. Manpower requirements during the advancing phases of a program. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247,

Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)

were well known. All of his key players were hardworking, with extensive responsibilities, but George

was indomitable. He didn’t believe in weekends. He

often called for meetings on Sundays, and many

times the material presented was nicknamed “pasteurized.” That is, the information was so extensive

that late on a weekend, the participants’ ability to

absorb was waning, and the charts were merely

“past your eyes.” But not to George. Even at day’s

end, he was direct and incisive. 

It was a privilege for me to know the individual

members of George’s council. They attended both

Headquarters Project and Program Reviews, but in

addition, I was often with them while traveling,

exercising, or visiting in their homes. George lived

next door and made excellent dry martinis. Joe

Shea was an excellent tennis player, and we climbed

many fences into locked tennis courts to play before

sunrise. I nearly broke my hip skateboarding on

George’s cement driveway. Bob Gilruth and I loved

boats. He built his in a shed next to his house.

Wernher loved the outdoors and his houseboat on

the Tennessee River. His daughter went to the

Cathedral School and joined us at mealtime on

occasion. I often shared the podium with Kurt

Debus at the Cape. Sam Phillips was quiet, conscientious, and persevering. I was fortunate to work

with him, first at NASA and later when we both

held critical responsibilities in the Air Force. 

The five functions described previously—program control, systems engineering, testing, reliability

and quality, and flight operations—permitted

NASA to have centralized management at

Headquarters for overall control of the Apollo

Program. Sam Phillips was its arbiter, decisionmaker, and spokesman. However, the information

he received and the actions he disseminated were

distributed among Headquarters and the Field

Centers. In this way, key decision-makers at

Headquarters availed themselves of the technical
competence and knowledge at the Centers, and the

project directors in the Centers were kept current

on Headquarters activities. Aaron Cohen tells of an

early assignment at the Johnson Space Center. Joe

Shea, the Apollo project director, put him in charge

of the Interface Control Documents (ICDs). Joe

then escorted Aaron to Marshall Space Flight

Center to meet Wernher von Braun. Joe advised

Wernher of Aaron’s responsibilities and Wernher

asked, “What are ICDs?” When informed, Wernher

bought in, and Aaron estimates that he eventually

negotiated over 1,000 such documents. 

The management of Apollo was clearly 

disciplined and distributed. There was no large central authority issuing detailed instructions. Rather,

there were interface documents that were continually updated to correspond with developments at

the Centers. Final development cannot take place

without the interfaces, and interfaces require

knowledge of the developed hardware. Progress can

only take place in an iterative fashion with strong

Center participation. 

It’s also important to keep in mind the progress

of Apollo in the large picture. Figure 31 is a stylized

representation of the phasing experienced in such

large projects. Prior to President Kennedy’s ringing

endorsement, there was a series of discussions and

studies internal and external to NASA. Once NASA

received its mandate for the manned lunar landing,

it expanded its workforce, as did other government

agencies. But the largest increase in manpower was

contracted to industry. Apollo started with preliminary designs and the breadboarding of hardware.

By the middle of the decade, designs were well

along and the fabrication of hardware was rapidly

advancing. Prototype hardware was needed for

thorough testing of performance in high-stress environments. This ringing out of the hardware was

coupled with the extensive planning that was

required for operational testing, first on the ground

and ultimately in space. Of course, Apollo had several flight missions prior to the lunar landing. The

first vehicle test was followed by manned flights in

Earth orbit and around the Moon before the Apollo

Program achieved the ultimate goal of lunar landing.

By the time the goal was reached, the total manpower

on Apollo was greatly reduced, but funds were still

required for wrapping up the program. 

Each major Apollo project passed through a

review and approval process (see figures 31 and

32), making its way progressively through definition, design, manufacture, and flight operations.

The key reviews were design certification and

flight-readiness. During the former, results of all

major tests were described and discussed. Such tests

included static-engine and stage firing, vacuum testing on spacecraft, and electrical tests of checkout

104 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 32. Apollo Review Procedures, the essential milestones. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
equipment. The flight-readiness reviews were allencompassing and included presentation of the

results of operational tests of the ground, ship, and

airborne network, along with Launch Control,

Mission Control, and the flight hardware. If a few

items were outstanding, they would have to be

cleared before the time of the launch. Sam Phillips

was the chairman of the committees overseeing all

key project reviews and approvals. 

Saturn I was developed in the then-normal

fashion, with four flight tests of the first stage

before testing of the second stage. When George

Mueller became the Associate Administrator for

Manned Space Flight, he introduced NASA to “allup” system testing. When the Apollo/Saturn V was

launched for the first time in December 1967, all

three launch vehicle stages were operational, as

were the spacecraft and service module. All worked

satisfactorily. Such success could not have been

achieved without the extensive testing that culminated in a completed flight-readiness review. 

Soon after the first Saturn V launch, I retired

from my official capacity, and I was sworn in as a

NASA consultant on 5 January 1968, the day following my retirement. From then on, I used the

consultant’s offices and only participated in management decisions on the few occasions when I was

asked. I did review with Sam Phillips the design

changes being made to the Apollo capsule to

improve fire protection. I also spent time with Gene

Emme, the NASA historian, on my exit interview.

Finally, I participated in the UN conference on

“Peaceful Uses of Space.” Jim Webb was also there

and told me of the plan to circumnavigate the

Moon on the first manned Saturn V mission. 

INTRODUCTION 105

THE GRAND FINALE 107

At the start of 1968, NASA was rapidly converging on its goal of a manned lunar landing within the decade. Actually, success was

only 19 months away—from January 1968 to July

1969. Prior to the landing, there would be two

unmanned spaceflights and four manned flights. 

Monday, 22 January 1968, Apollo

5, Unmanned

Apollo 5 was launched on 22 January 1968

with the primary objective of testing the lunar

descent propulsion; the ascent propulsion, including restarting capability; the spacecraft structure;

the instrumentation and control; and the second

stage of the Saturn IB. After separation from the

Saturn booster, the Lunar Module was in an elliptical orbit and proceeded with a test of the descent

Chapter 6:

THE GRAND FINALE

stage. The planned 39-second burn only lasted 4

seconds due to a computer program glitch. The

ground controller shifted to an alternate plan and

tested the descent stage first with a 26-second burn

at 10-percent thrust and, finally, a 7-second blast at

maximum thrust. Later, each stage was put through

its paces, ending with an ascent-stage firing of over

6 minutes. 

The descent engine was throttleable, like that of

an automobile—the only rocket motor with this

capability, which was necessary for a soft-landing

on the lunar surface. Ignition of the ascent engine

was essential to recovery; there was no redundancy.

For this reason, hypergolic fuel was utilized—ignition occurred without the need for a separate firing

source. In an abort, this stage had to ignite and fire

even while the descent stage was still providing

thrust. During the test, the so-called “fire in the
hole” was successful. The flight was judged satisfactory, and the Lunar Lander was declared ready

for manned flight.1

Thursday, 4 April 1968, Apollo 6,

Unmanned

The second and final unmanned launch of

Apollo occurred on 4 April 1968. The Apollo 6 was

the second launch of the Saturn V. The first stage

functioned as planned, but two of the second-stage

J-2 engines shut down prematurely. To compensate,

the remaining three engines automatically burned

longer, as did the single J-2 engine in the third stage.

The compensation was nearly perfect; however, it

left the Apollo in a somewhat elliptical rather than

circular orbit. 

The third stage failed to reignite, so the Apollo

capsule and service modules separated from the

staging; then, by firing the service module, an altitude of nearly 14,000 miles was achieved at apogee.

From there, a reentry speed of 22,400 mph was

achieved, rather than the planned 25,000 mph.

Although only four of the five flight objectives were

achieved, the flight demonstrated a remarkable

redundancy when two of the five J-2 engines flamed

out, both on the same side of the rocket. If the

engines had been on opposite sides, there wouldn’t

have been the imbalance that tended to topple the

structure. When all the data were analyzed, the tests,

coupled with the 100-percent success of the previous

flights, were judged complete and the Apollo and

Saturn V were judged ready for manned flight.2

In mid-August of 1968, I attended a U.N. conference on “Exploration and Peaceful Uses of Outer

Space.” The conference took place in Vienna, amidst

the best coffee houses and chocolate in the world. I

presented a paper at a panel on management issues

related to manned space exploration. I was also chairman of the full-fledged assembly where each of the 74

nations participating could have five representatives

present. The night before this session, the Soviet

Army entered Czechoslovakia. The staff secretary for

the morning meeting was a Soviet colonel, and a

Czech professor was presenting a paper. I received a

message from U Thant, Secretary of the U.N., to close

the session if any political shenanigans occurred.

Specifically, I was to say “meeting adjourned” and

slam down the gavel. 

Jim Webb was also at the meeting and was concerned about the recently announced “Intersputnik”

that would be established by the Soviets and other

Socialist countries to compete with Intelsat, the western satellite communication network with over 100

member nations. However, he invited me to his room

at the Intercontinental Hotel to tell me of his recent

telephone calls from Tom Paine, NASA’s Deputy

Administrator at that time. Tom proposed a circumlunar flight for the next Apollo mission. He advised

Jim that there were indications of an early Soviet

manned mission to the Moon, and the Lunar

Module was not ready for a 1968 mission as previously planned. However, all the necessary elements

were ready for manned circumlunar flight. When

asked for my views, I first thought of the caveat that

I wasn’t up to date on NASA readiness. Then I said

that at first blush, such a mission in 1968 seemed at

the edge of the envelope. But I ended my comments

with a reminder of my thoughts on EVA prior to the

Gemini 4 mission. NASA should go when ready and

also should attempt to accomplish as much as possible on each mission. 

Friday, 11 October 1968; Apollo

7; Wally Schirra, Don Eisele, and

Walter Cunningham

The first manned flight of Apollo occurred in

October 1968 between the 11th and the 22nd.

Wally Schirra was the commander, with Don Eisele

and Walter Cunningham completing the three-man

crew. The Apollo 7 spacecraft weighed 36,500

pounds and was carefully redesigned for safety. The

two-piece hatch was replaced with a single one that

was quick-opening. Also, there were extensive material substitutions to reduce flammability. All flight

objectives were achieved. The service module engine

was fired eight times, including the de-orbit burn.

Although the crew was kept busy with time-consuming maintenance in addition to their regular

duties, there was still time for photographs of

Hurricane Gladys over the Gulf of Mexico and a

long plume of air pollution over the United States.

108 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

1. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1968: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4010, 1969), p. 13.

2. Ibid., p. 77.
There were also five live TV broadcasts with both

outside photography and in-capsule gymnastics and

commentary. In one, the astronauts displayed a sign

bearing greetings from “the lovely Apollo room high

above everything.” The astronauts won honorary

membership in the American Federation of Television

and Radio Artists. The astronauts were recovered by

the USS Essex after circling Earth 163 times.3

Saturday, 26 October 1968,

Soyuz 3

The Soviets launched Soyuz 3 from Baikonur

Cosmodrome with a “powerful rocket booster” on

26 October, four days after the landing of Apollo 7.

The Soviets conducted a variety of scientific, technical, and biological experiments; transmitted TV pictures; and conducted a rendezvous with Soyuz 2.

Clearly, the Soviets had recovered from Komarov’s

fatal accident and were proceeding aggressively with

their manned space effort.4 

Saturday, 21 December 1968;

Apollo 8; Frank Borman, Jim

Lovell, and Bill Anders

Sometime in early December, I received an invitation to fly in a visitors’ plane from Washington,

DC, to the Cape, for the launch of Apollo 8, with

Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders aboard. 

On 19 December, two days before Apollo 8’s

liftoff, I received a call from Mel Laird. Presidentelect Nixon had introduced his cabinet nominees,

including Mel Laird as Secretary of Defense, at the

Pierre Hotel in New York. From that TV program,

I recognized his name, but I was surprised when he

asked me for lunch the following day at the

THE GRAND FINALE 109

3. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1968: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4010, 1969), 

p. 250.

4. Ibid., p. 264.

Figure 33. This view of the rising Earth greeted the Apollo 8 astronauts as they came from behind the Moon after the lunar orbit

insertion burn. (NASA Image Number 68-HC-870, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2001-000009.html)
Carleton Hotel in Washington. Could I join him at

noon? The answer was yes, provided that I could

get to National Airport by 4:00 p.m. I was met on

arrival by Bill Baroody, Mel’s assistant, who introduced me to a gigantic organizational chart of the

Department of Defense. Mel arrived quite late,

explaining that he had been meeting at the

Pentagon with Clark Clifford, who would soon be

giving Mel the key to the establishment. After much

discussion and a good lunch, Mel asked me to join

his team as Secretary of the Air Force. I was aghast.

It wasn’t possible. Gene was in the hospital; we 

had just bought a new house in Cambridge, etc.

However, I agreed not to say no until the following

week. I headed for the airport. To my surprise and

subsequent pleasure, I was seated next to Jack

Benny. We had a great conversation, which centered

on the space program, as well as his concern for the

health of Bob Hope. Actually, Bob Hope outlasted

Jack Benny by several decades.

The next morning, 21 December, Apollo 8 lifted

off from Cape Canaveral. The viewing stand was

over a mile from the pad. Hence, the sound from

Apollo took time to reach those sitting there holding their breath. First, however, a voice blared,

“Ignition,” followed, seconds later, by “Liftoff.”

Just as the sound of the five engines was surrounding us, Apollo was clearing its umbilical tower, as in

previous Saturn V launchings. It’s hard to describe

the sound. It was overwhelming—it wasn’t just

heard; it was felt overall, from the low-frequency

rumbles to the high-pitched crackling. This monster

passed safely through maximum g’s, where the

dynamic air pressure was greatest, to first-stage

shutdown and second-stage ignition, amidst much

cheering. And then we watched intently until the

Apollo 8 spacecraft disappeared from our view. 

Nearly 3 hours after liftoff, the third-stage

engine was fired, sending Apollo 8 on its translunar

passage. Earth’s gravity would slow Apollo on its

lunar trajectory until lunar gravity exceeded Earth’s

pull; then, Apollo would accelerate as the Moon

appeared to increase in size and resolution of detail.

Only small corrections in speed were required en

route: first, an increased speed of 24 feet per second

(fps); then, a reduction of 2 fps to make the Moon’s

closest approach an altitude of 60 miles. 

On Christmas Eve, the service module was

burned for 4 minutes and 2 seconds, giving Apollo

an apolune of 194 miles and perilune of 69 miles.

The orbit was later circularized at 70 miles. Back

home, with Gene hospitalized, our children were

preparing for Santa’s arrival both at home and near

Gene’s hospital bed. There was time, however, to

listen to the crew read from the first chapter of

Genesis and then wish all of us “Good night, good

luck, a merry Christmas, and God bless all of you—

all of you on the good Earth.” 

There were five TV transmissions from Apollo 8:

some of Earth at 139,000 miles, some from

201,000 miles while en route to the Moon, and

then some of the lunar surface “like dirty beach

sand” of prospective landing sites, as well as of

mountainous areas. But the most spectacular image

appeared as Apollo 8 came from behind the Moon

and the astronauts saw the blue Earth appearing to

rise above the lunar horizon. Each astronaut

grabbed for a Hasablat camera and one of them

took the photograph (see figure 33) we have all seen

many times. The beautiful but small spaceship,

Earth, is there in its entirety, in sharp contrast to the

desolate, dead lunar surface. This photograph is a

graphic reminder, for all to admire, of the treasure

we inhabit. If Apollo 8 inspires us to conserve our

planet, it is worth many times the cost of man’s

lunar travels.5

Tuesday, 14 January 1969, 

Soyuz 4/Wednesday, 15 January

1969, Soyuz 5

In mid-January, we had another sharp reminder

that the Soviets were not just treading water. Soyuz

4 was launched on 14 January 1969 and Soyuz 5 on

15 January. After the cosmonauts conducted a variety of experiments, they performed a rendezvous

and then manually docked, but with no hatch

between them. Two cosmonauts in Soyuz 5 put on

their “special” spacesuits with a new “regenerative

life-support system,” left their spacecraft, and

joined the cosmonaut in Soyuz 4. The Soviets

demonstrated, in their words, “the world’s first

experimental cosmic station.” Regardless of the

hype, they had demonstrated the first transfer

110 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

5. Ibid., p. 318.
between spacecraft; they clearly weren’t backing

away from space exploration and, most probably, a

manned lunar mission.6

Monday, 3 March 1969; 

Apollo 9; Jim McDivitt, Dave Scott,

and Rusty Schweickart

On 3 March 1969, Jim McDivitt, Dave Scott,

and Rusty Schweickart went through a series of

complex maneuvers with Apollo 9. It was the first

test of the Lunar Module with astronauts in space.

The astronauts first flew in the Command Module

for several days, performing housekeeping and separating from the third stage to redock cheek to jowl

with the Lunar Module. On the third day, Jim and

Rusty entered the Lunar Module using the onboard hatches. They conducted the first test of the

lunar descent stage and returned to the Command

Module. Rusty then spent 37 minutes outside the

capsule using selected hand- and footholds to reach

the Lunar Module and return. 

On the fifth day, Rusty and Jim reentered the

Lunar Module. They separated from the Command

Module, which backed 3 miles away from the Lunar

Module using the control-system thrusters. The

Lunar Module then went through a simulated Moon

landing, using the ascent rocket to separate from the

Command Module by over 100 miles. After 6.5

hours of “time on the Moon,” the ascent stage fired

its engines, separating from the descent stage, and

returned the astronauts to the Command Module for

docking and return to Earth. Apollo 9 landed 

within sight of the USS Guadalcanal for pickup by

helicopter. The first test of a manned Lunar Module

was most successful, achieving all major objectives.

NASA was now ready for lunar landing operations.

President Nixon congratulated the crew and said that

the mission showed “what man can do when they

bring to any task the best of man’s mind and heart.”7

While Apollo 9 was under way, I received a

telephone call from Mel Laird. By then, I was the

Secretary of the Air Force. He told me the President

had two candidates for the next Administrator of

NASA, and one of them, a Democrat, was Tom

Paine. He asked for my recommendation. I quickly

answered that if the President wished to ensure a

safe landing on the Moon within the decade, he’d

nominate Tom as the Administrator. Tom’s nomination was announced the following day (5 March).

Jim Webb’s strategy for ensuring NASA’s continuity

had prevailed. Jim was so political that he couldn’t

have survived in the Nixon administration for

many days. By resigning in the Johnson administration, he cleared the way for Tom Paine. 

Sunday, 18 May 1969; Apollo 10;

Tom Stafford, John Young, and

Gene Cernan

The Apollo 10 spacecraft lifted off Pad B of

Complex 29 on 18 May 1969. Tom Stafford was the

commander, John Young the Command Module

pilot, and Gene Cernan the Lunar Module pilot. The

flight went by the book, with minimal corrections

required during the translunar voyage. The crew provided 72 minutes of color TV footage of Earth as it

receded behind them. The first lunar orbit had an

apolune of 196 miles and a perilune of 69 miles.

When nearly circularized, the orbit was close to 69

miles above the lunar surface. During translunar

flight to and from the Moon, as well as orbital

maneuvers around the Moon and the descent and

ascent to the lunar surface, the astronauts were

almost completely dependent on the guidance system

developed by Dr. Draper’s Instrumentation Laboratory

at MIT. Velocity adjustments of a few miles per hour

(mph) in the correct direction when traveling up to

25,000 mph were essential and truly remarkable. 

The next phase of the Apollo 10 mission called

for Tom Stafford and Gene Cernan to separate the

Lunar Module, Snoopy, from the Command

Module, Charlie Brown, using the control-system

thrusters. The descent engines then lowered the speed

so that the lander’s altitude was reduced to nearly 9

miles, its lowest point in orbit. The crew had no difficulty identifying landmarks. As Stafford said, “It

looks as though all you have to do is put your test

wheel down and we’re there. The craters look flat

and smooth on the bottom. It should be real easy.”

After separation from the descent stage, the ascent

stage went into a violent oscillation, which provoked

some unprintable expletives. But Tom took over

THE GRAND FINALE 111

6. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1968: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4014, 1970), p. 11.

7. Ibid., p. 62.
manual control and achieved the proper attitude.

Rendezvous and docking were achieved without incident. On the return leg, there was more live color TV

footage of both Earth and the Moon. On the eighth

day, Charlie Brown landed, precisely on schedule, 3

to 4 miles from the recovery ship, USS Princeton. On

NBC’s Meet the Press, Tom Paine said that if the July

lunar landing succeeded, there would be enough

hardware for nine additional flights (this was later

reduced to seven). He went on to say that it would

take those flights and many more before men really

began to understand Earth’s twin planet.8

Wednesday, 16 July, 1969;

Apollo 11; Neil Armstrong, Buzz

Aldrin, and Mike Collins

Apollo 11 was scheduled for liftoff from Cape

Canaveral’s Launch Complex 39, Pad A, at 9:32 a.m.

EDT. Gene, our son Joe, and I arrived at the Cape the

afternoon before. Flying with us to and from the

Cape was Alexander de Seversky, the noted aircraft

designer. The Jetstar arrived in time for us to have

dinner in Cocoa Beach with Jim Webb and President

Johnson. The dinner was most cordial, with toasts

for Jim Webb’s leadership and President Johnson’s

unflagging support. The next day, liftoff occurred on

schedule, and the flight proceeded in a sequence

nearly identical to that of Apollo 10. On the quartermillion-mile journey to the Moon, there were four

TV broadcasts, with the longest lasting 96 minutes.

The transmission was of excellent color, resolution,

and general quality. The live pictures showed the

interiors of the Command Module, Columbia, and

the Lunar Lander, Eagle. Viewers could observe

Earth, the Moon, and the opening of the hatch

between the spacecraft modules, as well as housekeeping and food preparation. The lunar orbit was

circularized at 75.6 miles of altitude. 

112 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 34. Astronaut Edwin E. “Buzz” Aldrin, Lunar Module pilot of the first lunar landing mission, poses for a photograph beside

the deployed United States flag during an Apollo 11 extravehicular activity (EVA) on the lunar surface. (NASA Image Number

AS11-40-5875, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ ABSTRACTS/GPN-2001-000012.html)

8. Ibid., p. 142.
I had returned to Washington, DC, after the

launch and then returned to Mission Control in

Houston for the landing. The Eagle was separated

from Columbia over the far side of the Moon and

descended to 9.9 miles from the surface, at which

point powered descent commenced. The location

was 4.6 miles downrange of the planned location,

so the landing point was significantly shifted. The

feeling was tense in the control and also behind the

glass where the handful of guests were located. It

was soon noted that the Eagle was headed for the

center of a crater containing boulders measuring 5

to 10 feet in length. Consequently, Neil raced

beyond the crater by hand-controlling attitude and

making throttle adjustments with the engine. Neil

could extend the flight by 60 seconds before fuel

shortage would require an abort. The clock was closing on zero when dust and shadows appeared in the

foreground and suddenly Neil announced, “Houston,

Tranquility Base here—the Eagle has landed.” 

Mission Control replied, “Roger, Tranquility.

We copy you on the ground; you got a bunch of

guys about to turn blue. We’re breathing again,

thanks a lot.” The time was 4:18 p.m. EDT, 20 July. 

Two hours after landing, the crew requested a

walk on the Moon right away rather than 4.5 hours

later, as originally planned. Doc Draper, Jackie

Cochran (the famous aviatrix), and I went out for a

quick bite, returning just after the postlanding

checks. Shortly thereafter, Neil opened the hatch

and descended Eagle’s ladder. As at least one-fifth

of the world watched, he reached the lunar surface

while saying, “One small step for a man, one giant

leap for mankind.” 

Back in May 1961, Bill Fleming’s committee had

this to say about what should happen when a person

first stood on the Moon: “Very little study has gone

into precisely what operations would take place on

the Moon or how they would be executed.” In the

interim, an extensive list of experiments was assembled. Neil first checked the surface and found that

his foot’s indentation was only a fraction of an inch.

The Lunar Lander only penetrated 3 to 4 inches, the

descent engine had not formed a crater, and the

engine bell was about 1 foot above the surface. Our

Moon is a solid structure.

Neil next filmed Buzz’s descent onto the Moon,

and the two together unveiled a plaque while reading its inscription: “Here men from planet Earth

first set foot on the Moon July 1969 A.D. We came

in peace for all mankind.” Neil placed a camera a

distance from the lander to photograph liftoff while

Buzz experimented with movement in the low gravity—walking, running, leaping, and making twofooted kangaroo hops. He said that his agility was

better than expected. Next, he deployed a solarwind composition experiment and, with Neil,

planted a pole with a 3-by-5-foot American flag

(see figure 34). After saluting the flag, they phoned

President Nixon. The President said, “As you talk

to us from the Sea of Tranquility, it inspires us to

redouble our efforts to bring peace and tranquility

to Earth.” The astronauts saluted the President and

said it was an honor to represent the United States

and the world. 

Bulk samples of the lunar surface were then collected, and seismic equipment and a laser reflector

were deployed. The astronauts then took two bore

samples and picked up 20 pounds of “discretely

selected material.” After further photography, the

EVA was completed; the astronauts returned to the

lander, closed the hatch, and enjoyed 7 hours of

rest. Apollo 11 returned to Earth by the same route

as Apollo 10. Landing occurred in the Pacific, 15

miles from the USS Hornet, with the President and

Tom Paine heading the welcoming committee (see

figure 35). However, handshakes were not possible.

There was concern that lunar pathogens might

infect Earth and that Earth microorganisms might

contaminate the lunar samples. So two-way biological barriers were created, one to protect the lunar

samples and the other to protect life here on Earth.

The lunar rocks then were flown immediately to the

Lunar Receiving Laboratory in Houston. The three

astronauts could talk and wave to the President

from their “mobile quarantine facility,” but there

were no pats on the back.9

An estimated one million people viewed the

Apollo liftoff from the Florida coast, including over

3,000 accredited press and TV commentators, and

their interest held through the lunar landing and

return. Congratulatory messages were printed in

newspapers around the world. Tom Wicker of the

THE GRAND FINALE 113

9. Ibid., pp. 209–227.
New York Times wrote about the Apollo 11 launch

in a laudatory article on 17 July 1969:

One could hardly watch the magnificent spectacle of the liftoff, let alone contemplate the

feats of human ingenuity that made it possible, as well as the courage and skill of the flyers, without some reflection upon the meaning

of the event . . . . The temptation is strong to

fall back upon lyricism. The poetry of the

thing has yet to find its expression in any of

the earnest, proficient, Americans who have

ventured away from the Earth; yet, the stunning beauty of man’s most marvelous creation, as it rose in its majesty toward the

unknown, toward the future, could be

matched only by the profound sense of having been present at an end to something and

therefore necessarily at a beginning.10

Dignitaries such as Soviet Premier Kosygin and

Great Britain’s Queen Elizabeth sent their warmest

congratulations to the President. It was a giant,

worldwide love-fest with only a few discordant

voices. Historian Arnold Toynbee issued his views:

“If we are going to go on behaving on Earth as we

have behaved here so far, then a landing on the

moon will have to be written off as one more shocking misuse of mankind’s slender surplus product.”11

Many overseas intellectuals concurred with Toynbee.

Regret was expressed in Swedish newspapers that

America’s feats of discovery were not matched by

efforts toward the tremendous task of eliminating

starvation on Earth. 

114 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 35. President Richard M. Nixon welcomes the Apollo 11 astronauts aboard the USS Hornet, prime recovery ship for the historic Apollo 11 lunar landing mission, in the central Pacific recovery area. (Left to right) Neil A. Armstrong, commander; Michael

Collins, Command Module pilot; and Buzz Aldrin, Lunar Module pilot, are confined to the Mobile Quarantine Facility (MQF).(NASA

Image Number S69-21365, also available at http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2001-000007.html)

10. Ibid., p. 228.

11. Ibid., p. 22.
The lunar program was initiated by President

Kennedy with no such lofty ideas and goals in

mind. The United States had landed man on the

Moon, and at the very same time, the unmanned

Soviet Luna 15 had apparently landed in the Sea

of Crises and was no longer transmitting.

Presumably it had crash-landed. In 1961, in a special address before Congress, President Kennedy

spoke these words: “Now it is time to take longer

strides—time for a great new American enterprise—time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement.”12 There was no

question in the eyes of the world. This goal was

achieved in July 1969.

What happened to the ongoing manned space

efforts in both the USSR and the United States is

summarized in the next and final chapter. 

THE GRAND FINALE 115

12. “Special Message to Congress on Urgent National Needs,” 25 May 1961, Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States, John

F. Kennedy, January 20–December 31, 1961 (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1962).

THE AFTERMATH 117

After the astronauts were welcomed aboard

the Hornet by President Nixon and Tom

Paine, they were brought to Houston aboard

their biological laboratory, checked for pathogens,

released, and greeted by family, friends, associates

in Houston, and the world at large. An elegant testimonial was tendered to them by the President in

Los Angeles. All the place settings were transported

from the White House. I flew out one day and back

the next with the Joint Chiefs. I played more bridge

in two days then I had since college. At the dinner,

the dais was quite high, but I was just able to shake

hands with Neil, Buzz, and Mike and congratulate

them on a job extremely well done. Of course, the

mission wasn’t complete until the doctors were finished examining the astronauts. The engineers analyzed the glitches, such as the computer overload

on landing. (The rendezvous radar was accidentally

left on, thereby feeding excessive signals to the

computer.) And scientists were provided with the

Chapter 7:

THE AFTERMATH

sample returns and other lunar data (130 laboratories, one-third of them overseas, participated in the

analysis of the lunar specimens). 

Was There a Space Race?

Was there truly a space competition between the

Soviet Union and the United States? The accompanying chart (figure 36) shows the manned launches

during the period from 1961 through 1970. The

three Soviet spacecraft on the left start with Vostok,

then Voskhod, and finally Soyuz, the latter still in use

today. On the right side are the U.S. manned capsules, Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo. To gain a mental picture of the competition, note that the first

orbital mission, for example, was flown by Vostok,

followed almost a year later by Mercury. Up until the

end of 1968, the Soviets were in the lead with six

firsts to the United States’ one. 
But were the Soviets planning to land on the

Moon? You bet! At the time of our lunar landing,

the United States had been tracking the USSR N-1

booster development with overhead satellite photography for several years. The photos first showed

a large building under construction with rails in and

out. The rails came from their industrial area and

led to an emerging large launchpad. Sometime later,

the photos caught sight of the vehicle proceeding

horizontally to the launchpad. The Soviets always

waited to erect their vehicles until they reached the

pad. The booster was never given a name, just the

designation N-1. Figure 37 shows the N-1 on the

pad with its umbilical tower, along with the umbilical arms that provided ready access. The proportions of N-1 can be seen in figure 38 in comparison

with those of the Saturn V. The two vehicles are of

comparable height and weight. A vehicle of this size

could be used to launch a space station, as the

United States did in 1973 with Skylab, but the most

likely purpose was for lunar exploration. 

It’s my understanding that the Russians planned

to explore the Moon with the lander and then rendezvous and dock with the Soyuz in a maneuver

similar to the crew transfer practiced by Soyuz 3 and

4 in mid-January 1969. A rendezvous also would

have occurred earlier, in Earth orbit. The N-1 would

ferry the Earth-escape rockets, lunar propulsion systems, and lunar lander into orbit, followed by the

cosmonauts aboard the Soyuz, who would rendezvous and dock with their lunar chariot. 

The plans for a lunar landing were denied by

the Russians until the fall of the Soviet Union.

During that uncertain period, three professors from

MIT’s Department of Aeronautics and Astronautics

were visiting aerospace facilities in Moscow in 1989.

As they were passing the doorway into a laboratory,

they spotted interesting hardware. “Can we go in?”

they asked. There was a shrug, so in they went, and

they soon spotted a capsule mounted on top of a

bell-shaped configuration. A sign in Russian said

118 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 36. Comparison of the Soviet and U.S. manned launches during the period from 1961 through 1970. (Source: Robert C.

Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
“lunar lander,” which was recognized by the

Americans. “Can we photograph?” Another shrug.

The photo taken by Jack Kerrebrock (figure 39)

shows the ascent capsule with the lander underneath,

with Professor Larry Young in front, examining it

and quizzing the professors’ Russian counterparts. 

The Soviets played for a checkmate up until the

safe return of Apollo 11 with Armstrong, Aldrin,

and Collins aboard. Even with Frank Borman celebrating the Fourth of July at the U.S. embassy in

Moscow, the attempt to launch the N-1 the night of

3 July was completely unknown except to a small

circle of senior government officers, and key military and launch personnel at the cosmodrome.

The explosion just after liftoff was devastating

(figure 40). Havoc was wreaked over a wide area.

A Russian student at a seminar I was conducting

at MIT volunteered that his father had been in an

engineering building several miles away at the

time and had been thrown to the floor amidst a

multitude of glass shards. 

But there was still one more move on the chessboard. All systems were “go” for an unmanned sample return vehicle, Luna 15 to be launched at the

same time as Apollo 11. The two vehicles actually

orbited the Moon at the same time, but the Soviets

were uncertain about the landing topography. The

descent of Luna 15 was delayed 18 hours before it

received approval to descend; then Luna 15 was to

land 6 minutes after Armstrong and Aldrin left the

Moon. However, with several minutes left before

landing, all signals from Luna 15 abruptly terminated. Later, it was determined that the vehicle hit a

mountain peak. The Soviets’ checkmate would have

occurred if the U.S. astronauts had been unsuccessful and the Soviets had collected a lunar sample.

How foolhardy the United States would have

appeared, with the Soviets displaying their Moon

rocks, if the astronauts had been killed or left forever

in space. In actuality, the news release from Tass (the

Soviet news agency) said, “Luna 15’s record program had been completed and the spacecraft had

reached the moon in the preset area.”1

Our Knowledge of the Soviet

Space Program

As was said in the report to the Vice President

signed by McNamara and Webb on 8 May 1961,

“Our cards are and will remain up, and theirs are

face-down.” How prophetic was this statement!

Our intelligence was severely limited. We knew

that there was a single individual directing the

Soviets’ space effort. Occasionally, our intelligence

included fragmentary conversations intercepted

when he called his office from his car, but to my

knowledge, no substantive information was

received from these intercepts. Not until after his

death did his name and background become common knowledge. At that time, he was honored and

THE AFTERMATH 119

Figure 37. N-1 on the pad with its umbilical tower, along with

the umbilical arms that provided ready access. (Available at

http://grin.hq.nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2002-000188.html)

1. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1969: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4014, 1970), 

p. 236.
We checked the veracity of their releases against 

the dates and ephemera (apogee, perigee, inclination) of space objects stored by the Air Force in

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. The Air Force 

was tracking about 4,500 orbital objects.2 NASA

would be informed when a new object came over

the horizon, as well as if and when it left orbit and

reentered the atmosphere. In this way, the existence

of each Soviet mission could be verified, but the

intent was a matter of speculation. The inclusion in

the text of each Soviet flight in the correct chronological order provides the same understanding of

Soviet plans that was available to NASA. For example, as has already been discussed, the Soviet launch

of two manned spacecraft a day apart and the subsequent rendezvous could be construed as either

part of a lunar or a military maneuver. However,

when these things were coupled with the crew

120 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

buried in the Kremlin Wall. Our only solid Central

Intelligence Agency (CIA) information came from

the Corona satellite photography. We observed the

construction of the Soviets’ large launch vehicle

assembly building with rails leading to an underdeveloped area. Later, a launch area materialized,

and on one fortuitous occasion, a large vehicle was

spotted ready for the launchpad. After the fact,

photographs showed the devastation from an

explosion on the pad and then a second soon after

liftoff. But we had no direct evidence of their lunar

program until the visit of three MIT faculty to

their Moscow Aviation Institute space laboratory

in December 1989 (see figure 39).

However, the Soviets publicly announced each

of their flights after the fact. So we knew the names

of the cosmonauts, dates, and stated results. 

2. Dwayne A. Day, “The Secret at Complex J,” Air Force Magazine (July 2004): 72.

Figure 38. Comparison of the Soviet N-1 with the U.S. Saturn V. (Source: Robert C. Seamans, Jr., papers, MC 247, Institute Archives

and Special Collections, MIT Libraries, Cambridge, MA.)
THE AFTERMATH 121

Figure 39. A photograph of the Soviet Lunar Lander and Return Vehicle taken at the Moscow Aviation Institute on 28 November

1989. The occasion was a visit by three Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) professors—Lawrence Young (left center), Jack

Kerrebrock (the photographer), and Edward Crawley (not pictured). 
transfer in later flights and the appearance of a

large booster, it became clear to NASA that the

Soviets were preparing for manned lunar missions. 

Why the Soviet Success and Then

Disaster? 

Why the Soviets failed is still a matter of speculation. I would list the following as possible reasons:

Sergei Korolev died on the operating table with

a burst appendix in January 1966. His stature placed

him in the Kremlin Wall with numerous honors. He

was under wraps throughout his gulag years and

the period when he directed the Soviet space effort.

He was respected for his consummate skill and

feared because of his relationship with Khrushchev

and other high-ranking officials. He knew how to

run their space program, and he had the chits to

achieve his goals. The prevailing view of their fire

drill in July 1969 after his death is that it was a desperate gamble.

The Soviets were lacking the technology available to the United States. They had started the ‘60s

clearly ahead, with boilerplate ballistic missiles capable of lifting large payloads into orbit. Korolev

played his cards extremely well, but by the end of the

decade, the Soviets had no high-impulse rockets for

their upper stages. Thanks to wise decisions by Abe

Silverstein in Keith Glennan’s era, oxygen-hydrogen

engines were available for Saturn I and Saturn V. To

compensate, the Soviets required one-third more

thrust at liftoff, and they didn’t have a large engine

like the F-1. For that reason, their first stage had to

harness 30 rocket motors. 

Moreover, the silicon chip was just beginning to

revolutionize the electronics industry in the United

States. At the Draper Laboratory, for example, the

question arose whether guidance and control for

Apollo were to be restricted to printed circuitry.

Doc Draper wanted to take advantage of Texas

Instruments’ latest developments, and he did. 

During the assembly of the Apollo/Saturn in the

Vertical Assembly Building, the instruments on the

vehicles read out to monitors in Launch Control

just as they did during checkout and prior to

launch. Then, in the final 2 minutes prior to liftoff,

the signals were automatically sequenced. If any

reading was out of tolerance, there would be a hold

and the fault would be investigated. Finally, the

United States would never have succeeded with

Apollo if we’d plodded through 20 to 30 flights of

Saturn I and Saturn V to achieve man rating. The

funding wouldn’t have been available. All-up systems testing was essential, and the checkout capability was a strong contributor to NASA’s success. 

What Was Next for Apollo?

After Apollo 11, there were eight more lunar

voyages planned and funded, but Apollo 13’s lunar

landing was scrubbed because of a severe power

loss in transit to the Moon. The crew’s return was

the greatest display of heroics and skill of any

NASA mission. In addition, the Nixon administration canceled two missions for cost reasons. The

remaining five successful lunar landings conducted

important studies aided, in the final three missions,

by a lunar buggy (see figure 41) with a 15-mile roving radius. This flexibility, plus the increased precision of the landings, led to important discoveries,

including the finding of material dating from near

122 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Figure 40. Soviet disaster: the N-1 explodes
the time of the Earth-Moon marriage four billion

years ago. 

There were two other uses of the Apollo hardware: Skylab and Apollo-Soyuz. The third stage of

Saturn V became Skylab: instead of fuel, oxidizer,

and rocket engines, the stage carried a habitat, a

research laboratory, and extensive solar paddles for

power. Placed in orbit by the first two stages of the

Saturn V, Skylab was 118 feet long and 22 feet in

diameter, and it weighed about 200,000 pounds.

When Skylab arrived in orbit on 14 May 1973, it

required intensive care. The temperature awning was

torn off, and some of the solar panels had been badly

damaged; others had fallen off.3 While ground control kept changing Skylab’s attitude to minimize solar

heating, the crew of Charles Conrad, Paul Weitz, and

Joseph Kerwin prepared for its resuscitation. On 25

May 1973, they rendezvoused with Skylab and performed miracles. A cable was cut to permit the existing solar panels to deploy. Then, with sufficient

power, they entered the extrawarm cabin and

deployed a large parasol through a hole in the craft’s

skin. When it was opened, necessary solar shade was

provided. The crew stayed aboard for 28 days. The

second crew of Alan Bean, Jack Lousma, and Owen

Garriott vacationed aboard for 59.5 days, arriving

on 28 July. Gerald Carr, William Pogue, and Edward

Gibson had an 84-day visit from 16 November 1973

to 8 February 1974. 

THE AFTERMATH 123

3. Astronautics and Aeronautics, 1969: Chronology of Science, Technology, and Policy (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4018, 1975), 

pp. 142–152.

Figure 41. The Lunar Rover provided the astronauts with an opportunity to explore the landing area to distances of 10 miles. This

capability was available for the final three lunar missions. (NASA Image Number AS17-147-22526, also available at http://grin.hq.

nasa.gov/ABSTRACTS/GPN-2000-001139.html)
Inside the laboratory, 270 scientific and technical investigations covering the fields of space

physics, stellar and galactic astronomy, solar

physics, bioscience, and space medicine were

planned. About a hundred principal investigators

participated. The solar observations were conducted

with the aid of seven solar telescopes. Six of these

recorded on film, and the seventh relied on the

transmission of photoelectric data. These telescopes

made available 195,000 exposures of the Sun and its

corona to land-based astronomers. By any measure,

Skylab was a great success. If the Saturn I had not

been canceled, Skylab could have been more permanent, perhaps serving as the focal point for the present space laboratory. Unfortunately, in 1979,

approximately a year prior to the beginning of

Shuttle operations, the atmosphere’s upper reaches

slowed Skylab until it fell to Earth in a fiery ball.

There was still one more Apollo mission—the

linking of Apollo and Soyuz 19 in July of 1975. This

primarily political venture was agreed to by

President Nixon and Soviet Premier Aleksei Kosygin

in 1972. Planning and equipping the Apollo and

Soyuz for the mission took visits to the Cosmodrome in Russia and the Manned Spacecraft Center

in Houston. The United States constructed the docking module, which permitted the astronauts and cosmonauts to meet directly, without extravehicular

activity. The two-man Soyuz was launched approximately 7.5 hours ahead of Tom Stafford, Deke

Slayton, and Vance Brand in Apollo. Rendezvous

and docking took place after the 29th orbit of

Soyuz.4 When Tom Stafford greeted the cosmonauts,

he did so in Russian. One of the Russians muttered,

“I wish I’d thought of doing that.” (Tom had been

taking Russian lessons for nearly a year.) After two

days of joint activities and three to complete a list of

experiments, Apollo returned to Earth, and the

Apollo days were over.

Final Thoughts

Following the Apollo era, I would call Patsy

Webb, Jim Webb’s wife, and ask about his health

and arrange a visit, if possible, whenever I returned

to Washington. He fought Parkinson’s with

courage. Sometimes he would be wheeled in by an

attendant; sometimes he would be on his electric

scooter. Often he had a patch over one eye to avoid

seeing double. Whether it was the Dopamine he

took ahead of time to gain strength in his body or

his interest in the conversations, I never knew—but

invariably, he’d walk me to the door when I left.

Sometimes he’d give me an article or a book to

read, and he’d ask for my evaluation of the contents. Other times, he’d probe me with questions

like, “What do you hope to accomplish before you

kick the bucket?” But although he never asked me

why I had resigned from NASA in 1967, I think he

knew and agreed. We had become incompatible, and

our mutual trust of six years had disappeared. Pages

143 to 150 of my autobiography Aiming at Targets

discuss my relationship with Jim after the fire. 

Often he’d ask the question, “We thought we

were building a space capability for years to come.

Why didn’t it happen?” Part of the answer was the

cost. I once heard President Johnson’s Director of

Management and Budget being interviewed on public radio. He was explaining the budget during

President Johnson’s final two years in office. The

country was mired in Vietnam, and the Great

Society was getting in gear, both with attendant

increased costs. And in addition, the President

refused to increase taxes. So where did he look for

relief? Obviously, the space program. At first he

tried to talk the President into a cancellation of the

lunar objective. Johnson said he owed it to

President Kennedy to complete. But the Soviets

appeared out of the race, so why not wait a few

years, he argued. Johnson insisted that the lunar

landing occur within the decade. There was still one

moderate-size expenditure for the Office of

Management and Budget, OMB, to strike, namely,

Apollo Applications. Starting in the mid-sixties,

considerable thought and effort went into future

planning under this rubric. George Mueller had the

action, and he had selected E. Z. Grey to mount the

studies. The Apollo/Saturn capability could have

been used separately or in tandem for a wide variety of missions including large orbiting spacecraft

for geophysics and astronomy, a permanent space

station, a modest base on the Moon, and large

unmanned payloads to the planets. 

At the same time that Congress was pressing us

for our plans, the OMB was picking our pockets for

the benefit of other national goals. President Nixon

124 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

4. Ibid., pp. 131–137.
finally supported the concept of reusability in the

form of the Shuttle. The five approved vehicles were

to be the basis for 500 missions. After 20 years,

missions have been flown, but only three Shuttles

remain, and the International Space Station is only

one-third complete. Over the years, bold new ventures have been suggested, including manned bases

on the Moon and manned landing on Mars. There

are many unfulfilled dreams of such missions still in

the minds of those who participated in Apollo;

however, the Saturn V would be extremely costly to

resurrect. The Shuttle cannot carry large enough

payloads for many of President George W. Bush’s

initiatives. The Shuttle is currently reserved for the

Space Station and will be retired from service when

the Station is complete. 

A National Vision for Space

Exploration

During the time I was organizing my thoughts on

the Apollo Program, a 40-year-old relic of the past,

President Bush announced the Vision for Space

Exploration, a space program 20 to 30 years into the

future. His goal includes sustained and affordable

human and robotic projects to explore the solar system and beyond. Human presence would start with

a return to the Moon as early as 2015 but no later

than 2020. The lunar missions can have immediate

significance, for example, to serve as astronomical

outposts, and they are also part of the preparation for

human exploration of Mars and other destinations.

Judging from the past, the technology and our

national needs and objectives will be altered before

the vision’s completion. So the project is difficult to

appraise because not only is it in its infancy, but the

first step hasn’t been authorized by Congress yet. 

So what can be said at this time? The overall

concept makes sense. The Vision is considered a journey, not a destination. The attempt will be made to

develop modules such as the Crew Exploration

Vehicle, which can be used on many types of missions. Not much has been revealed about the launch

vehicle for Earth escape. Is a large vehicle contemplated, or will a series of launches followed by rendezvous and docking put the mission in play?

Nuclear propulsion and power are planned for the

longer journeys. The high specific impulse that can

be provided by nuclear propulsion is desirable for

long distances. The time for long-duration travel can

be halved (most important for manned flight), but

will the use of nuclear fuel be acceptable to the U.S.

public and the world community? 

The plan wisely encompasses both manned and

robotic missions. Thorough investigation of lunar

and planetary pathways by robots must be a prerequisite to manned excursions. And long-duration

stay times on the lunar and Martian surfaces by

robotic missions must precede man’s adventure to

these distant locales. 

So the concept of the Vision for Space Exploration appears sound, but what will be learned and

what will be gained? And how will the Vision be

managed? A competent team is now reviewing and

planning the future, but will they be able to overcome the vicissitudes of changing political agendas? 

At the time of Apollo, NASA had a 10-year plan

that was updated annually for Congress. Perhaps

President Bush’s space journey can be viewed as a 30-

year plan made up of a series of defined objectives

important in their own right. Then the congressional

approvals could be directed toward short-term objectives in a long-term framework. Perhaps more stable

budget requirements would result. 

Might some new approach or technology be

conceived to greatly reduce the cost? Perhaps

President Bush’s initiative will trigger such an

enabling concept. Certainly man can be remarkably

creative, and if true needs arise, I believe man will

find solutions. 

THE AFTERMATH 125

Transmittal Letter with Report Attached from NASA Administrator

James E. Webb to President John F. Kennedy, 23 March 1961

George Low, chief of Manned Space Flight, conducted a manned space study during the last two weeks of the

Eisenhower administration and the early weeks of the Kennedy administration. The results are summarized in figure

1, which shows that with increased funding, three manned crews could orbit Earth in 1965; circle the Moon in 1967,

using Saturn vehicles; and land on the Moon as early as 1970, using a Nova vehicle. 

In order to conduct these missions at these earlier dates, increased annual funding was required, although the

total funding might remain the same. I associated the increased budget request for fiscal year 1962 with the earlier flight dates recommended by George Low when I ad-libbed my summary at the end of our meeting with the

President. He was well aware of the USSR’s tremendous advantage in weight-lifting capability, so my summary hit a

responsive chord. He liked the summary and asked for it in writing the following day. I put pencil to paper that evening.

The typed result, along with Mr. Webb’s letter of transmittal, was sent to the President on 23 March 1961, the day

after our meeting. 

March 23, 1961

MEMORANDUM for the President 

The attached memorandum prepared by our Associate Administrator, Dr. Seamans, responds 

to your request of yesterday that he furnish you and the Vice President with certain information concerning NASA’s plans. 

Original signed by 

James E. Webb

Administrator

APPENDIX 1 127

Appendix 1
Attachment

March 23, 1961 

MEMORANDUM

To: The Administrator

From: Associate Administrator

Subject: Recommended increases in FY62 Funding for Launch Vehicles and Manned Space Exploration.

The funding rates of five projects were discussed at the NASA-BOB conference with the Vice President

and the President on March 22, 1961. An agenda prepared prior to the meeting summarized the objectives

of these projects and indicated in each case the effect of the funding rate on the schedule. The projects are

listed below along with a tabulation of the current and recommended funding rates for FY1962.

Current Recommended 

Funding New Funding Net

Project Rate Rate Change

Centaur $53.9 $80.9 +$27.0

Saturn C-2 $20.0 $98.0 +$78.0

Prototype Engine for

Nuclear Rocket $13.5 $41.0 +$27.5

Nova Type (F-1) Engine $33.4 $43.7 +$10.3

Multi-manned Orbital

Laboratory $29.5 $77.2 +$47.7

$150.3 $340.8 $190.5

128 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
The FY 1962 increase in these key areas as discussed by NASA would amount to $190.5 million out of

the total increase of $303.6 million proposed as a revised NASA budget. 

The multi-manned orbital laboratory is contingent upon the Saturn C-1 which is adequately funded, and

a new spacecraft for which NASA recommends an increase from $29.5 to $77.2. This increase starts an

accelerated program leading to multi-manned orbital flights in 1965 rather than 1967. 

The multi-manned circumlunar flight requires the Saturn C-2 and a spacecraft which will evolve from

the design of the orbital spacecraft. The recommended $73 million increase in FY1962 funding for the

Saturn C-2 leads to the completion of the Saturn development in 1966, and manned circumlunar flight in

1967 rather than in 1969. 

A manned lunar landing requires a new launch vehicle with capabilities beyond Saturn. This vehicle,

called NOVA, is still under study. It would use a first-stage cluster of the 1.5 million pound thrust, chemically fueled engines which we have under development. We are requesting $10.3 million additional over the

present FY 1962 budget to accelerate the engine development. The first manned lunar landings depend upon

this chemical engine as well as on the orbital and circumlunar programs and can be achieved in 1970 rather

than 1973.

Subsequent lunar base operations or manned planetary explorations depend upon having a nuclear

rocket to provide the much heavier payloads required for such missions. We recommend a FY 1962 increase

for the development of a prototype flight nuclear engine. An acceleration of $27.5 million in NASA funds

matched by an AEC increase of $17.0 million will permit initial flight tests in early 1967 instead of 1968.

Further development of this type engine for use in an upper stage of the Nova will provide a payload weight

capability nearly double that of an all chemically-fueled vehicle. 

Increase to the level now proposed for the Centaur, Saturn, large chemical-engine, nuclear engine, and

multi-manned spacecraft will increase the rate of closure on the USSR’s lead in weight lifting capability and

significantly advance our manned exploration of space beyond Project Mercury. 

Robert C. Seamans, Jr.

Associate Administrator 

APPENDIX 1 129

APPENDIX 2 131

James E. Webb’s Letter to President Kennedy of 30 November 1962,

Requested by the President at Our Meeting on 21 November 1962

The discussion with President Kennedy on 1 November revolved around the issue of a $400-million supplemental request for fiscal year 1963. Brainerd Holmes recommended the supplemental as a means for advancing the

lunar landing date from 1967 to 1966. Mr. Webb, Dr. Dryden, and I were strongly opposed. In 1961, we had gained

approval from Congress for an FY 1962 budget increase from $1.1 billion to $1.8 billion, and Congress had appropriated $3.7 billion for FY 1963. In our view, Congress would balk at a still further increase, and we didn’t feel that

NASA could efficiently sustain still further growth.

At the meeting, the President championed the possibility of the earlier lunar landing. When he understood the

political consequence of the supplemental, he pressed hard for a reprogramming of funds from nonlunar missions.

The debate that ensued centered on this issue. The President argued that the manned lunar landing was one of the

two highest priority nondefense projects of his administration. He felt that other efforts at NASA were useful but

could be delayed. Jim Webb argued that many of the scientific and technical programs, although not directly managed by Brainerd Holmes, provided essential design information for the manned lunar landing. He also noted that

other programs were important in their own right. Some were time-sensitive, some were joint efforts with other

nations, and some were related to DOD and other government agencies. 

So at first, President Kennedy argued that the manned lunar landing was the highest priority of NASA’s missions, and Mr. Webb argued that NASA’s goal was preeminence in space. As the meeting proceeded, the President

conceded that there might be scientific and technical efforts providing essential data for the lunar mission, and Mr.

Webb conceded only that NASA was already proceeding at flank speed and couldn’t accelerate the lunar mission

further. At the meeting’s end, the President said, “Maybe we’re not too far apart; write me a summary of your views

on NASA’s priorities.” The extensive letter responding to the President’s request summarizes NASA’s manned lunar

effort, discusses related and unrelated activities, and contains a bit of NASA’s fundamental creed. For example, in

the section “Advanced Research and Technology,” the last sentence in the first paragraph reads, “The philosophy of

Appendix 2
132 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

providing for an intellectual activity of research and an interlocking cycle of application must be a cornerstone of our

National Space Program.”

The letter achieved its purpose. There was no further discussion of supplementals and reprogramming to

achieve a lunar landing at an earlier date. Most important, “preeminence in space” became NASA’s watchword.

NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

OFFICE OF THE ADMINISTRATOR

November 30, 1962

The President 

The White House

Dear Mr. President:

At the close of our meeting on November 21, concerning possible acceleration of the manned lunar

landing program, you requested that I describe for you the priority of this program in our over-all civilian

space effort. This letter has been prepared by Dr. Dryden, Dr. Seamans, and myself to express our views on

this vital question.

The objective of our national space program is to become pre-eminent in all important aspects of this

endeavor and to conduct the program in such a manner that our emerging scientific, technological, and

operational competence in space is clearly evident. 

To be pre-eminent in space, we must conduct scientific investigations on a broad front. We must concurrently investigate geophysical phenomena about the earth, analyze the sun’s radiation and its effect on

earth, explore the moon and the planets, make measurements in interplanetary space, and conduct astronomical measurements.

To be pre-eminent in space, we must also have an advancing technology that permits increasingly large

payloads to orbit the earth and to travel to the moon and the planets. We must substantially improve our

propulsion capabilities, must provide methods for delivering large amounts of internal power, must develop

instruments and life support systems that operate for extended periods, and must learn to transmit large

quantities of data over long distances.

To be pre-eminent in operations in space, we must be able to launch our vehicles at prescribed times.

We must develop the capability to place payloads in exact orbits. We must maneuver in space and ren-
APPENDIX 2 133

dezvous with cooperative spacecraft and, for knowledge of the military potentials, with uncooperative

spacecraft. We must develop techniques for landing on the moon and the planets, and for re-entry into the

earth’s atmosphere at increasingly high velocities. Finally, we must learn the process of fabrication, inspection, assembly, and check-out that will provide vehicles with life expectancies in space measured in years

rather than months. Improved reliability is required for astronaut safety, long duration scientific measurements, and for economical meteorological and communications systems.

In order to carry out this program, we must continually up-rate the competence of Government research

and flight centers, industry, and universities, to implement their special assignments and to work together

effectively toward common goals. We also must have effective working relationships with many foreign

countries in order to track and acquire data from our space vehicles and to carry out research projects of

mutual interest and to utilize satellites for weather forecasting and world-wide communications.

Manned Lunar Landing Program

NASA has many flight missions, each directed toward an important aspect of our national objective.

The manned lunar landing program requires for its successful completion many, though not all, of these

flight missions. Consequently, the manned lunar landing program provides currently a natural focus for the

development of national capability in space and, in addition, will provide a clear demonstration to the world

of our accomplishments in space. The program is the largest single effort within NASA, constituting threefourths of our budget, and is being executed with the utmost urgency. All major activities of NASA, both in

headquarters and in the field, are involved in this effort, either partially or full time.

In order to reach the moon, we are developing a launch vehicle with a payload capability 85 times that

of the present Atlas booster. We are developing flexible manned spacecraft capable of sustaining a crew of

three for periods up to 14 days. Technology is being advanced in the areas of guidance and navigation, reentry, life support, and structures—in short, almost all elements of booster and spacecraft technology.

The lunar program is an extrapolation of our Mercury experience. The Gemini spacecraft will provide

the answers to many important technological problems before the first Apollo flights. The Apollo program

will commence with earth orbital maneuvers and culminate with the one-week trip to and from the lunar

surface. For the next five to six years there will be many significant events by which the world will judge the

competence of the United States in space.

The many diverse elements of the program are now being scheduled in the proper sequence to achieve

this objective and to emphasize the major milestones as we pass them. For the years ahead, each of these

tasks must be carried out on a priority basis.

Although the manned lunar landing requires major scientific and technological effort, it does not encompass all space science and technology, nor does it provide funds to support direct applications in meteorological and communications systems. Also, university research and many of our international projects are

not phased with the manned lunar program, although they are extremely important to our future competence and posture in the world community.

Space Science

As already indicated, space science includes the following distinct areas: geophysics, solar physics, lunar

and planetary science, interplanetary science, astronomy, and space biosciences.

At present, by comparison with the published information from the Soviet Union, the United States clearly leads in geophysics, solar physics, and interplanetary science. Even here, however, it must be recognized that
134 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

the Russians have within the past year launched a major series of geophysical satellites, the results of which

could materially alter the balance. In astronomy, we are in a period of preparation for significant advances,

using the Orbiting Astronomical Observatory which is now under development. It is not known how far the

Russian plans have progressed in this important area. In space biosciences and lunar and planetary science, the

Russians enjoy a definite lead at the present time. It is therefore essential that we push forward with our own

programs in each of these important scientific areas in order to retrieve or maintain our lead, and to be able to

identify those areas, unknown at this time, where an added push can make a significant breakthrough.

A broad-based space science program provides necessary support to the achievement of manned space

flight leading to lunar landing. The successful launch and recovery of manned orbiting spacecraft in Project

Mercury depended on knowledge of the pressure, temperature, density, and composition of the high atmosphere obtained from the nation’s previous scientific rocket and satellite program. Considerably more space

science data are required for the Gemini and Apollo projects. At higher altitudes than Mercury, the spacecraft will approach the radiation belt through which man will travel to reach the moon. Intense radiation in

this belt is a major hazard to the crew. Information on the radiation belt will determine the shielding requirements and the parking orbit that must be used on the way to the moon.

Once outside the radiation belt, on a flight to the moon, a manned spacecraft will be exposed to bursts

of high speed protons released from time to time from flares on the sun. These bursts do not penetrate below

the radiation belt because they are deflected by the earth’s magnetic field, but they are highly dangerous to

man in interplanetary space.

The approach and safe landing of manned spacecraft on the moon will depend on more precise information on lunar gravity and topography. In addition, knowledge of the bearing strength and roughness of

the landing site is of crucial importance, lest the landing module topple or sink into the lunar surface.

Many of the data required for support of the manned lunar landing effort have already been obtained,

but as indicated above there are many crucial pieces of information still unknown. It is unfortunate that the

scientific program of the past decade was not sufficiently broad and vigorous to have provided us with most

of these data. We can learn a lesson from this situation, however, and proceed now with a vigorous and

broad scientific program not only to provide vital support to the manned lunar landing, but also to cover

our future requirements for the continued development of manned flight in space, for the further exploration

of space, and for future applications of space knowledge and technology to practical uses.

Advanced Research and Technology

The history of modern technology has clearly shown that pre-eminence in a given field of endeavor

requires a balance between major projects which apply the technology, on the one hand, and research which

sustains it on the other. The major projects owe their support and continuing progress to the intellectual

activities of the sustaining research. These intellectual activities in turn derive fresh vigor and motivation

from the projects. The philosophy of providing for an intellectual activity of research and an interlocking

cycle of application must be a cornerstone of our National Space Program.

The research and technology information which was established by the NASA and its predecessor, the

NACA, has formed the foundation for this nation’s pre-eminence in aeronautics, as exemplified by our military weapons systems, our world market in civil jet airliners, and the unmatched manned flight within the

atmosphere represented by the X-l5. More recently, research effort of this type has brought the TFX concept to fruition and similar work will lead to a supersonic transport which will enter a highly competitive

world market. The concept and design of these vehicles and their related propulsion, controls, and structures were based on basic and applied research accomplished years ahead. Government research laboratories, universities, and industrial research organizations were necessarily brought to bear over a period of

many years prior to the appearance before the public of actual devices or equipment.
These same research and technological manpower and laboratory resources of the nation have formed

a basis for the U.S. thrust toward pre-eminence in space during the last four years. The launch vehicles,

spacecraft, and associated systems including rocket engines, reaction control systems, onboard power generation, instrumentation and equipment for communications, television and the measurement of the space

environment itself have been possible in this time period only because of past research and technological

effort. Project Mercury could not have moved as rapidly or as successfully without the information provided by years of NACA and later NASA research in providing a base of technology for safe re-entry heat

shields, practical control mechanisms, and life support systems.

It is clear that a pre-eminence in space in the future is dependent upon an advanced research and technology program which harnesses the nation’s intellectual and inventive genius and directs it along selective paths.

It is clear that we cannot afford to develop hardware for every approach but rather that we must select

approaches that show the greatest promise of payoff toward the objectives of our nation’s space goals. Our

research on environmental effects is strongly focused on the meteoroid problem in order to provide information for the design of structures that will insure their integrity through space missions. Our research program

on materials must concentrate on those materials that not only provide meteoroid protection but also may

withstand the extremely high temperatures which exist during re-entry as well as the extremely low temperatures of cryogenic fuels within the vehicle structure. Our research program in propulsion must explore the

concepts of nuclear propulsion for early 1970 applications and the even more advanced electrical propulsion systems that may become operational in the mid-1970’s. A high degree of selectivity must be and is exercised in all areas of research and advanced technology to ensure that we are working on the major items that

contribute to the nation’s goals that make up an over-all pre-eminence in space exploration. Research and technology must precede and pace these established goals or a stagnation of progress in space will inevitably result.

Space Applications

The manned lunar landing program does not include our satellite applications activities. There are two

such program areas under way and supported separately: meteorological satellites and communications

satellites. The meteorological satellite program has developed the TIROS system, which has already successfully orbited six spacecraft and which has provided the foundation for the joint NASA-Weather Bureau planning for the national operational meteorological satellite system. This system will center on the use of the

Nimbus satellite which is presently under development, with an initial research and development flight

expected at the end of 1963. The meteorological satellite developments have formed an important position

for this nation in international discussions of peaceful uses of space technology for world benefits.

NASA has under way a research and development effort directed toward the early realization of a practical communication satellite system. In this area, NASA is working with the Department of Defense on the

Syncom (stationary, 24-hour orbit, communications satellite) project in which the Department of Defense is

providing ground station support for NASA’s spacecraft development; and with commercial interests, for

example, AT&T on the Telstar project. The recent “Communications Satellite Act of 1962” makes NASA

responsible for advice to and cooperation with the new Communications Satellite Corporation, as well as

for launching operations for the research and/or operational needs of the Corporation. The details of such

procedures will have to be defined after the establishment of the Corporation. It is clear, however, that this

tremendously important application of space technology will be dependent on NASA’s support for early

development and implementation.

University Participation

In our space program, the university is the principal institution devoted to and designed for the production, extension, and communication of new scientific and technical knowledge. In doing its job, the university intimately relates the training of people to the knowledge acquisition process of research. Further, they

APPENDIX 2 135
are the only institutions which produce more trained people. Thus, not only do they yield fundamental

knowledge, but they are the sources of the scientific and technical manpower needed generally for NASA to

meet its program objectives.

In addition to the direct support of the space program and the training of new technical and scientific

personnel, the university is uniquely qualified to bring to bear the thinking of multidisciplinary groups on

the present-day problems of economic, political, and social growth. In this regard, NASA is encouraging the

universities to work with local industrial, labor, and governmental leaders to develop ways and means

through which the tools developed in the space program can also be utilized by the local leaders in working on their own growth problems. This program is in its infancy, but offers great promise in the working

out of new ways through which economic growth can be generated by the spin-off from our space and related research and technology.

International Activity

The National Space Program also serves as the base for international projects of significant technical

and political value. The peaceful purposes of these projects have been of importance in opening the way for

overseas tracking and data acquisition sites necessary for manned flight and other programs which, in many

cases, would otherwise have been unobtainable. Geographic areas of special scientific significance have been

opened to cooperative sounding rocket ventures of immediate technical value. These programs have opened

channels for the introduction of new instrumentation and experiments reflecting the special competence and

talent of foreign scientists. The cooperation of other countries—indispensable to the ultimate achievement

of communication satellite systems and the allocation of needed radio frequencies—has been obtained in the

form of overseas ground terminals contributed by those countries. International exploitation and enhancement of the meteorological experiments through the synchronized participation of some 35 foreign nations

represent another by-product of the applications program and one of particular interest to the less developed nations, including the neutrals, and even certain of the Soviet bloc satellite nations.

These international activities do not in most cases require special funding; indeed, they have brought

participation resulting in modest savings. Nevertheless, this program of technical and political value can be

maintained only as an extension of the underlying on-going programs, many of which are not considered

part of the manned lunar landing program, but of importance to space science and direct applications.

Summary and Conclusion

In summarizing the views which are held by Dr. Dryden, Dr. Seamans, and myself, and which have guided

our joint efforts to develop the National Space Program, I would emphasize that the manned lunar landing

program, although of highest national priority, will not by itself create the pre-eminent position we seek. The

present interest of the United States in terms of our scientific posture and increasing prestige, and our future

interest in terms of having an adequate scientific and technological base for space activities beyond the manned

lunar landing, demand that we pursue an adequate, well-balanced space program in all areas, including those

not directly related to the manned lunar landing. We strongly believe that the United States will gain tangible

benefits from such a total accumulation of basic scientific and technological data as well as from the greatly

increased strength of our educational institutions. For these reasons, we believe it would not be in the nation’s

long-range interest to cancel or drastically curtail on-going space science and technology development programs in order to increase the funding of the manned lunar landing program in fiscal year 1963.

The fiscal year 1963 budget for major hardware development and flight missions not part of the manned

lunar landing program, as well as the university program, totals $400 million. This is the amount which the

manned space flight program is short. Cancellation of this effort would eliminate all nuclear developments, our

international sounding rocket projects, the joint U.S.-Italian San Marcos project recently signed by Vice

136 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
President Johnson, all of our planetary and astronomical flights, and the communication and meteorological

satellites. It should be realized that savings to the Government from this cancellation would be a small fraction

of this total since considerable effort has already been expended in fiscal year 1963. However, even if the full

amount could be realized, we would strongly recommend against this action.

In aeronautical and space research, we now have a program under way that will insure that we are covering the essential areas of the “unknown.” Perhaps of one thing only can we be certain; that the ability to

go into space and return at will increases the likelihood of new basic knowledge on the order of the theory

that led to nuclear fission. 

Finally, we believe that a supplemental appropriation for fiscal year 1963 is not nearly so important as to

obtain for fiscal year 1964 the funds needed for the continued vigorous prosecution of the manned lunar landing program ($4.6 billion) and for the continuing development of our program in space science ($670 million),

advanced research and technology ($263 million), space application ($185 million), and advanced manned

flight including nuclear propulsion ($485 million). The funds already appropriated permit us to maintain a

driving, vigorous program in the manned space flight area aimed at a target date of late 1967 for the lunar

landing. We are concerned that the efforts required to pass a supplemental bill through the Congress, coupled

with Congressional reaction to the practice of deficiency spending, could adversely affect our appropriations

for fiscal year 1964 and subsequent years, and permit critics to focus on such items as charges that “overruns

stem from poor management” instead of on the tremendous progress we have made and are making.

As you know, we have supplied the Bureau of the Budget complete information on the work that can

be accomplished at various budgetary levels running from $5.2 billion to $6.6 billion for fiscal year 1964.

We have also supplied the Bureau of the Budget with carefully worked out schedules showing that approval

by you and the Congress of a 1964 level of funding of $6.2 billion together with careful husbanding and

management of the $3.7 billion appropriated for 1963 would permit maintenance of the target dates necessary for the various milestones required for a final target date for the lunar landing of late 1967. The jump

from $3.7 billion for 1963 to $6.2 billion for 1964 is undoubtedly going to raise more questions than the

previous year jump from $1.8 billion to $3.7 billion.

If your budget for 1964 supports our request for $6.2 billion for NASA, we feel reasonably confident

we can work with the committees and leaders of Congress in such a way as to secure their endorsement of

your recommendation and the incident appropriations. To have moved in two years from President

Eisenhower’s appropriation request for 1962 of $1.1 billion to the approval of your own request for $1.8

billion, then for $3.7 billion for 1963 and on to $6.2 billion for 1964 would represent a great accomplishment for your administration. We see a risk that this will be lost sight of in charges that the costs are skyrocketing, the program is not under control, and so forth, if we request a supplemental in fiscal year 1963.

However, if it is your feeling that additional funds should be provided through a supplemental appropriation request for 1963 rather than to make the main fight for the level of support of the program on the

basis of the $6.2 billion request for 1964, we will give our best effort to an effective presentation and effective use of any funds provided to speed up the manned lunar program.

With much respect, believe me

Sincerely yours,

James E. Webb

Administrator

APPENDIX 2 137

Summary of My Eyes-Only Draft Memorandum to Mr. Webb, 

15 December 1966

The subject of this memo was NASA management. The first paragraph states, “In considering your questions

relating to my views on organization as contained in your draft memo of 11/16/66, I found it helpful to start thinking of individual relationships, then to analyze organizational structure and communications in general, before reviewing specific changes that might improve NASA’s effectiveness.” The 14-page discourse rationalized the need for a

new Associate Administrator for Management and Administration. Ultimately, the function was named the Office for

Organization and Management. How these ideas were combined with those of Jim Webb and Harry Finger is discussed on pages 73, 91, and 92 of the text. The responsibilities of the proposed Associate Administrator are summarized below in an attachment to the 15 December memorandum. 

Management and Administration

The Administrator, Deputy Administrator, Associate Deputy Administrator, the four Associate

Administrators, and the Assistant Administrators will look to this office for support, advice, evaluation, and

direct action where specified in matters related to the internal administration of the agency. The functions

to be grouped in this office are indicated below. Seven main groups are now envisaged within the new office,

with the tentative names and functions listed below. 

1. The Resource Administration

a. Budget—perform all budget functions (see list below); support AA’s in their functions with colocated staffs; and support the new administrator for Program Planning and Analysis in the

Office of the Administrator on budget and related matters.

APPENDIX 3 139

Appendix 3
Formulation and review of budget estimates and operating plans 

Preparation of BOB and Congressional submissions

Development and review of operating plans and 506’s and relative documents 

Review resource implications of Program Approval Documents

Monitoring and review of recurring financial and program reports 

Conduct financial operations

Liaison and point of contact on budgeting and programming matters with BOB and

Congressional committees

b. Systems—develop and supervise all agency-wide management, information, and control systems

(see list below); support AA’s in their functions, with co-located staffs where appropriate; and support and be responsive to the needs of the new administrator for Program Planning and Analysis

in the Office of the Administrator. 

Programming

Budgeting

Accounting

Manpower

Documentation

Agency Reports

Other information and control systems

2. Manpower and Personnel—perform manpower and personnel functions (see list below); support AA’s

with co-located staffs if necessary and appropriate.

Manpower planning, review, allocations, and controls

Personnel planning and operations

Training

Health

Related functions

3. Industry Affairs—responsible for:

Procurement

Labor relations

Inventions and contributions

4. Institutional Development and Support—responsible for:

Facilities management

Transportation and logistics

Property and supply

Security

Safety

140 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Occupational medicine

Technical support (reliability and quality assurance)

5. Compliance and Appraisal—responsible for: 

Technical and general evaluations 

Audit 

Inspections

6. Headquarters and Administration

7. Management Analysis

APPENDIX 3 141

Dr. Robert C. Seamans, Jr., was born on 30 October 1918 in Salem, Massachusetts. He earned a bachelor of science degree in engineering at Harvard University in 1939, a master of science degree in

aeronautics at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) in 1942, and a doctor of science degree

in instrumentation from MIT in 1951. 

From 1941 to 1955, he held teaching and project positions at MIT, during which time he worked on

aeronautical problems, including instrumentation and control of airplanes and missiles. Dr. Seamans joined

RCA in 1955 as manager of the Airborne Systems Laboratory and chief systems engineer of the Airborne

Systems Department. From 1948 to 1958, Dr. Seamans also served on technical committees of NASA’s predecessor organization, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics. 

In 1960, Dr. Seamans joined NASA as Associate Administrator, part of the top management “Triad”

with Hugh Dryden and James Webb. In 1965, he became Deputy Administrator, retaining many of the 

general management-type responsibilities of the Associate Administrator and also serving as Acting Administrator. In January 1968, he resigned from NASA to become a visiting professor at MIT. 

He was named Secretary of the United States Air Force in 1969, serving until 1973. Dr. Seamans was

also president of the National Academy of Engineering from May 1973 to December 1974, when he became

the first administrator of the new Energy Research and Development Administration. He returned to MIT

in 1977, becoming dean of its School of Engineering in 1978. He has served on many prestigious blue ribbon commissions since then.

Dr. Seamans and his wife, Eugenia A. “Gene” Merrill, have 5 children and 12 grandchildren. 

To learn more about Robert C. Seamans, Jr., see his autobiography, Aiming at Targets (NASA SP-4106, 1996).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 143

About the Author

145

AACB Aeronautics and Astronautics Coordinating Board

AAS American Astronautical Society

AEC Atomic Energy Commission

AGARD Advisory Group for Aerospace Research & Development

AIAA American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics

AMR Atlantic Mission Range

ATDA Augmented Target Docking Adapter

BMEWS Ballistic Missile Early Warning System

BoB Bureau of the Budget (now the Office of Management and Budget)

C-1, C-2 configurations for the Nova launch vehicle

C-2, C-3 Saturn configurations

Caltech California Institute of Technology

CEV Crew Exploration Vehicle

CIA Central Intelligence Agency

DOD Department of Defense

DX label for a high-priority program

EST eastern standard time

EVA extravehicular activity

FCRC Federal Contracted Research Center

FFRDC Federally Funded Research and Development Center

fps feet per second

FY fiscal year

GAO Government Accounting Office

GE General Electric

ACRONYMS AND ABBREVIATIONS

Acronyms and Abbreviations
146 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

HSS-2 type of helicopter

IBEW International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers

IBM International Business Machines

ICBM intercontinental ballistic missile

ICD Interface Control Documents

ISS International Space Station

JPL Jet Propulsion Laboratory

LEM lunar excursion module

LOR lunar orbit rendezvous

MA Mercury capsule with Atlas booster

max-q maximum dynamic pressure

MIT Massachusetts Institute of Technology

mph miles per hour

MQF Mobile Quarantine Facility

MR Mercury Redstone rocket (usually with number, e.g., MR-3)

MSC Manned Spacecraft Center

MSFC Marshall Space Flight Center

NAA North American Aviation

NACA National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

NASA National Aeronautics and Space Administration

NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation

NBC National Broadcasting Company

OMB Office of Management and Budget

OMSF Office of Manned Spaceflight

Acronyms and Abbreviations (cont.)
147

PAD Project Approval Document

POGO effect longitudinal vibrations (as in the movement of a pogo stick)

psi pounds per square inch

R&D research and development

R&R rest and relaxation

RCA Radio Corporation of America

RFP request for proposal

RFQ request for quotation

RIF reduction in force

SAINT SAtellite INTerceptor

SEPC Space Exploration Program Council

SMS Sequenced Milestone System

TIROS Television Infrared Observation Satellite Program

TRW Thompson Ramo Woldridge

UN United Nations

USSR Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

V-1, V-2 German “vengeance” weapons

VAB Vertical Assembly Building

ACRONYMS AND ABBREVIATIONS

Acronyms and Abbreviations (cont.)

NASA MONOGRAPHS IN AEROSPACE HISTORY SERIES 149

All monographs except the first one are available by sending a self-addressed 9-by-12-inch envelope for

each monograph with appropriate postage for 15 ounces to the NASA History Division, Room CO72,

Washington, DC 20546. A complete listing of all NASA History Series publications is available at 

http://history.nasa.gov/series95.html on the World Wide Web. In addition, a number of monographs and

other History Series publications are available online from the same URL. 

Launius, Roger D., and Aaron K. Gillette, compilers. Toward a History of the Space Shuttle: An Annotated

Bibliography. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 1, 1992. Out of print.

Launius, Roger D., and J. D. Hunley, compilers. An Annotated Bibliography of the Apollo Program.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 2, 1994. 

Launius, Roger D. Apollo: A Retrospective Analysis. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 3, 1994. 

Hansen, James R. Enchanted Rendezvous: John C. Houbolt and the Genesis of the Lunar-Orbit Rendezvous

Concept. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 4, 1995. 

Gorn, Michael H. Hugh L. Dryden’s Career in Aviation and Space. Monographs in Aerospace History, No.

5, 1996. 

Powers, Sheryll Goecke. Women in Flight Research at NASA Dryden Flight Research Center from 1946 to

1995. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 6, 1997. 

Portree, David S. F., and Robert C. Trevino. Walking to Olympus: An EVA Chronology. Monographs in

Aerospace History, No. 7, 1997. 

Logsdon, John M., moderator. Legislative Origins of the National Aeronautics and Space Act of 1958:

Proceedings of an Oral History Workshop. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 8, 1998. 

Rumerman, Judy A., compiler. U.S. Human Spaceflight, A Record of Achievement 1961–1998. Monographs

in Aerospace History, No. 9, 1998. 

Portree, David S. F. NASA’s Origins and the Dawn of the Space Age. Monographs in Aerospace History, No.

10, 1998. 

Logsdon, John M. Together in Orbit: The Origins of International Cooperation in the Space Station.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 11, 1998. 

Phillips, W. Hewitt. Journey in Aeronautical Research: A Career at NASA Langley Research Center.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 12, 1998. 

Braslow, Albert L. A History of Suction-Type Laminar-Flow Control with Emphasis on Flight Research.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 13, 1999. 

Logsdon, John M., moderator. Managing the Moon Program: Lessons Learned From Apollo. Monographs

in Aerospace History, No. 14, 1999. 

Perminov, V. G. The Difficult Road to Mars: A Brief History of Mars Exploration in the Soviet Union.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 15, 1999. 

NASA Monographs in Aerospace History Series
150 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS

Tucker, Tom. Touchdown: The Development of Propulsion Controlled Aircraft at NASA Dryden.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 16, 1999. 

Maisel, Martin, Demo J. Giulanetti, and Daniel C. Dugan, The History of the XV-15 Tilt Rotor Research

Aircraft: From Concept to Flight. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 17, 2000 (NASA SP-2000-4517). 

Jenkins, Dennis R. Hypersonics Before the Shuttle: A Concise History of the X-15 Research Airplane.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 18, 2000 (NASA SP-2000-4518). 

Chambers, Joseph R. Partners in Freedom: Contributions of the Langley Research Center to U.S. Military

Aircraft of the 1990s. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 19, 2000 (NASA SP-2000-4519). 

Waltman, Gene L. Black Magic and Gremlins: Analog Flight Simulations at NASA’s Flight Research Center.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 20, 2000 (NASA SP-2000-4520). 

Portree, David S. F. Humans to Mars: Fifty Years of Mission Planning, 1950–2000. Monographs in

Aerospace History, No. 21, 2001 (NASA SP-2001-4521). 

Thompson, Milton O., with J. D. Hunley. Flight Research: Problems Encountered and What They Should

Teach Us. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 22, 2001 (NASA SP-2001-4522). 

Tucker, Tom. The Eclipse Project. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 23, 2001 (NASA SP-2001-4523). 

Siddiqi, Asif A. Deep Space Chronicle: A Chronology of Deep Space and Planetary Probes, 1958–2000.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 24, 2002 (NASA SP-2002-4524). 

Merlin, Peter W. Mach 3+: NASA/USAF YF-12 Flight Research, 1969–1979. Monographs in Aerospace

History, No. 25, 2001 (NASA SP-2001-4525). 

Anderson, Seth B. Memoirs of an Aeronautical Engineer: Flight Tests at Ames Research Center: 1940–1970.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 26, 2002 (NASA SP-2002-4526). 

Renstrom, Arthur G. Wilbur and Orville Wright: A Bibliography Commemorating the One-Hundredth

Anniversary of the First Powered Flight on December 17, 1903. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 27,

2002 (NASA SP-2002-4527). 

Chambers, Joseph R. Concept to Reality: Contributions of the NASA Langley Research Center to U.S. Civil

Aircraft of the 1990s. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 29, 2003 (NASA SP-2003-4529). 

Peebles, Curtis, editor. The Spoken Word: Recollections of Dryden History, The Early Years. Monographs

in Aerospace History, No. 30, 2003 (NASA SP-2003-4530). 

Jenkins, Dennis R., Tony Landis, and Jay Miller. American X-Vehicles: An Inventory—X-1 to X-50.

Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 31, 2003 (NASA SP-2003-4531). 

Renstrom, Arthur G. Wilbur and Orville Wright Chronology. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 32,

2003 (NASA SP-2003-4532).

Bowles, Mark D., and Robert S. Arrighi. NASA’s Nuclear Frontier: The Plum Brook Reactor Facility,

1941–2002. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 33, 2004 (NASA SP-2004-4533).

McCurdy, Howard E. Low-Cost Innovation in Spaceflight: The Near Earth Asteroid Rendezvous (NEAR)

Shoemaker Mission. Monographs in Aerospace History, No. 36, 2005 (NASA SP-2005-4536).
151

Abbott, Ira H., 23, 36

AC Spark Plug, 37

Adams, Dr. Mac C., 64

Advisory Group for Aerospace Research and

Development (AGARD), 76

Aerojet Corporation, 86

Agena, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 71

Agena-Gemini, 64

Agency of Redstone Arsenal, 20

Aiming at Targets, 124

Air Force Atlantic Missile Range, 83

Aldrin, Edwin E. “Buzz,” 67, 112–113, 115, 118,

119

American Federation of Television and Radio

Artists, 109

American Institute of Aeronautics and

Astronautics (AIAA), 72

Ames Research Center, 84

Anders, William, 109

Apollo

Apollo A, 12, 13

Apollo B, 12,13

Apollo 5, 107

Apollo 6, 108

Apollo 7, 108

Apollo 8, 109

Apollo 9, 111

Apollo 10, 111

Apollo 11, 112

Apollo 13, 65

Apollo: The Race to the Moon, 43

Appropriation Committees, 22

Armstrong, Neil, 64, 74, 112–113, 115, 118, 119

Army Corps of Engineers, 33–34, 35, 94

Army Redstone Arsenal, 5, 83, 85

AT&T Bell Laboratories, 37, 57, 87

Atlantic Missile Range, 33

Atlas, 58

Atlas Launch Vehicle, 5, 13, 23

Atlas-Agena, 66, 71, 72

Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), 37, 42, 71, 73, 85

Augmented Target Docking Adapter (ATDA), 65

Aurora 7, 38

Baikonur Cosmodrome, 109

Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS), 25

Baroody, William, 110

Bean, Alan, 123

Bell, David, 13

BellCom, 37, 87

Benny, Jack, 110

Bergen, William, 67

Berry, Dr. Charles, 67

Boeing 377 Stratocruiser, 34

Boeing Corporation, 35, 39, 72, 86

Bolshevik Revolution, 16

Borman, Frank F., 62, 77, 109, 119

Brackett, Ernest W., 89

Brand, Vincent, 124

Brandt, Clark T., 23

INDEX

Index
Brolio, Professor Luigi, 76

Brown, Harold, 23

Buckley, Edmund, 64, 77, 81

Bureau of the Budget (BoB), 6, 12, 13

Bush, President George W., 1, 125

Business Week, 75

Bykovskiy, Valeriy, 49

California Institute of Technology (Caltech), 21,

71, 83, 84, 85

Cape Canaveral, 5, 6, 18

Carpenter, Rene, 38

Carpenter, Scott M., 37, 38–39, 43, 47

Carr, Gerald, 123

Case Institute, 9

Cassidy, Lieutenant General William F., 33, 34

Centaur, 85

Centaur upper stage, 10, 15

Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 120

Cernan, Eugene A., 65–66, 111–112

Chafee, Roger B., 74–75

Chairman of the Space Council, 21

Chamberlain, James, 58

Chance-Vought Corporation, 43

Charlie Brown, 111–112

Charyk, Joseph, 23

Checkpoint Charlie, 35

Chenoweth, Congressman J. Edgar, 16, 17

Clark, Clifford, 110

Clifton, Major General Chester V., 51–52, 53

Coastal Sentry, 66

Cochran, Jackie, 113

Cohen, Aaron, 104

Coles, Marvin, 34

Collins, Michael, 66, 112–113, 115, 118, 119

Columbia, 112, 113

Columbia University, 12

Command Module, 111

Complex 37, 6, 52

Complex 39, 53

Comstar, 57

Conrad, Charles “Pete,” 61, 62, 66–67, 123

Constitution Hall, 10

Cooper, Gordon L., 47–48, 61

Copernicus, 72

Cornell University, 70

Cox, Catherine, 43

Crawler, 39–40

Crew Exploration Vehicle, 125

Cumberland Island, 29, 33

Cunningham, Walter, 108–109

Cushing, Cardinal Richard James, 10

Davis, Major General Leighton I., 33, 51

de Seversky, Alexander, 112

Debus, Dr. Kurt H., 31, 36, 51, 74–80, 81, 88,

103

152 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Deep Space Network, 85

DeMarquis, Wyatt D., 98–99

Dembling, Paul F., 76

Department of Defense (DOD), 19, 20, 25, 40, 87

Disher, John H., 51

Dobrynin, Anatoly, 74

Donn, Dr. William, 80

Draper, Dr. Charles Stark, 63, 74, 111, 113

Draper Laboratory, 73

Dryden, Hugh L., 5, 14, 16, 18, 23, 33, 44, 46,

48, 53, 60, 62–63, 64, 72, 73, 78, 80, 84, 93

Dryden Flight Research Center, 84

Eagle, 112, 113

Early Bird, 57–58

Earth Orbit Rendezvous, 37, 43

Echo balloon, 6

Eisele, Donald, 108–109

Eisenhower, President Dwight D., 6 , 7, 81

Enos, 32

Extravehicular activity (EVA), 60, 65, 66, 67, 113

Faget, Dr. Maxime A., 7, 81

Faith 7, 47–48

Federal Aviation Administration, 34

Federally Contracted Research Center (FCRC), 87

Federally Funded Research and Development

Center (FFRDC), 72, 84, 86, 87

Finger, Harold B., 73–74, 91

Finney, John, 94

Fisk, James, 37

Fleming, William, 18, 25, 27, 28, 113

Fleming Committee, 72

Foster, John, 64, 74

Friendship 7, 24, 37–38

Gagarin, Yuri, 1, 18, 21, 22, 30, 49, 81

Gallatin, Admiral I. J., 53

Garriot, Owen, 123

Gemini, 58

Gemini 1, 58

Gemini 2, 58

Gemini 3, 59, 60

Gemini 4, 57, 60

Gemini 5, 61, 62

Gemini 6, 63

Gemini 7, 63

Gemini 8, 64, 65, 74

Gemini 9, 65, 71

Gemini 10, 66

Gemini 11, 66–67

Gemini 12, 67

Gemini-Agena, 66–67

General Accounting Office (GAO), 58

General Dynamics, 85

General Electric, 73

George Washington University, 35

Gibson, Edward, 123

Gilpatrick, Roswell, 19

Gilruth, Dr. Robert, 22, 31, 36, 43, 51, 57, 67,

78, 81, 88

Glenn, Annie, 37

Glenn, John H., 23, 30, 37–38, 47

Glenn Research Center, 84

Glennan, T. Keith, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 17, 23, 57, 71,

80, 81, 88

INDEX 153
Goddard Space Flight Center, 7, 83, 84, 87

Goebbels, Joseph, 80

Goett, Dr. Harold, 7, 84

Gold, Thomas, 70

Goldberg, Arthur, 74

Golovin, Dr. Nicholas, 25, 33, 40

Gordon, Richard, 66–67

Gray, E. Z., 51

Grissom, Virgil “Gus,” 29, 30, 59, 74–75, 85

Grumman Aviation Corporation, 43, 47, 73

Hackes, Peter, 74

Ham, 11

Heaton, Colonel David, 25, 33

Hine, William, 94

History of Rocketry and Space Travel, 85

Holloman Air Force Base, 11

Holmes, D. Brainerd, 25, 35, 37, 43, 44, 48–49, 88

Holt, Henry, 77

Hope, Bob, 110

Hornig, Donald, 18, 20

Houbolt, Dr. John, 25, 26, 27, 36, 81

House Committee on Space and Aeronautics, 16

Hughes Aircraft, 8, 57, 71, 72

Humphrey, Hubert H., 59, 62

Huston, Major General Vincent G., 65, 68

Hyatt, Abraham, 19, 39

Hyland, Patrick, 71

Intelsat, 57

Intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM), 20, 37

Interface Control Documents, 104

International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers

(IBEW), 6

International Business Machines, 58

Jet Propulsion Laboratory 5, 8, 21, 59, 71, 72, 83,

84–85, 86, 87

John F. Kennedy Space Center, 83, 86

Johnson, Lyndon B., 2, 37, 59, 60–62, 65, 74, 75,

80, 112, 124

Kavanau, Dr. Lawrence, 25, 33, 40

Kelley, Marvin, 36, 73

Kennedy, President John F., 2, 8, 9, 17, 18, 21, 36,

42, 43, 44–46, 47, 51–54, 57, 69, 81, 86, 96,

104, 115, 124

Kennedy Onassis, Jacqueline B., 54–55

Kerrebrock, Jack, 118

Kerwin, Joseph, 123

Khrushchev, Premiere Nikita, 18, 122

King, Congressman David, 2, 16

Kistiakowski, Dr. George, 7

Komarov, Vladimir, 78, 109

Korolev, Sergei P., 15, 20, 22, 30, 49, 122

Kosygin, Soviet Premiere Aleksei, 114, 124

Kraft, Christopher, 38, 59, 67

Kranz, Gene, 65

Kremlin, 120, 122

Kronkite, Walter, 53

Laird, Mel, 109–110, 11

154 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Langley Research Center, 25, 34, 36, 72, 83, 84, 88

LeMay, General Curtis E., 49

Leonov, Aleskey, 49, 50

Lewis, David, 67

Lewis Research Center, 73, 84, 85

Liberty Bell 7, 30

Loring, Caleb, 49

Los Angeles Times, 75

Lousma, Jack, 123

Lovell, James A., 62, 67, 109

Low, George M., 7, 8, 12, 15, 17, 49, 74, 80

Luedecke, Alvin R., 85

Luna 15, 115, 119

Lunar Lander, 51, 60, 78, 86, 108, 113

Lunar Landing Group, 8

Lunar Module, 51, 110

Lunar Orbit Rendezvous, 26, 36–37, 40, 43, 47

Lunar Orbiter, 68, 71, 72, 85

Lunar Orbiter I, 72

Lunar Orbiter II, 72

Lundin, Bruce, 25

Lyndon Johnson Space Center, 36, 83, 86, 104

Malcarney, Arthur, 25, 49, 88

Management “Triad” of Webb, Seamans, and

Dryden, 14, 33, 43, 73, 78, 88

Manned Lunar Landing, 8

Manned mission and launch dates, 13

Manned Space Subcommittee, 16

Manned Spacecraft Center 7, 34, 37, 43, 48, 57,

83, 85, 86

Marshall Space Flight Center 6, 7, 34, 37, 39, 68,

80, 85–86, 87, 104

Martin Corporation, 67

Martin Marietta Company, 78

Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 33, 36, 48,

118

Mathews, Charles “Chuck,” 51, 58, 67, 99

McDivitt, James A., 60

McDonnell, James S., 67–68

McDonnell Douglas Corporation, 34, 58, 98

McKee, William “Bozo,” 49

McNamara, Robert, 17, 19, 20, 21, 64, 119

Meet the Press, 112

Mercury, 5, 9, 13, 17, 23

Mercury Atlas 

MA-4, 30

MA-5, 35

MA-6, 37

MA-7, 38

MA-8, 42

MA-9, 47

Mercury II (Gemini), 58

Mercury Redstone 

MR-2, 11

MR-3, 18

MR-4, 30

Merritt Island, 29, 33–34, 35, 53, 69

Mettler, Rube, 88

Michoud Plant, 34

Miles, Marvin, 75

Miller, Congressman George, 17

Minnesota, University of, 48

INDEX 155
Mission 76, 62

Mission Control, 86, 105, 113

Mississippi Test Facility, 35

Mitchell, James P., 6

MITRE Corporation, 87

Mondale, Walter F., 76

Montgomery Ward, 12

Moyer, William, 62

Mt. Tremblant, 13

Mueller, George, 48, 49–51, 52, 58, 64, 65, 67,

74, 76, 78, 80, 98, 99, 102, 103, 105

Murray, Charles, 43

NASA Distinguished Medal of Honor, 59

NASA Program Offices

Advanced Research and Technology, 87

Manned Space Flight, 87

Space Science and Applications, 87

NASA-DOD Large Launch Vehicle Planning

Group, 40–41

National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

(NACA), 5, 21, 73, 83, 84

National Broadcast Company (NBC), 74

National Space Plan, 19

Naval Research Laboratory, 84

New York Times, 114

Newell, Homer E., 36, 74

Nikolayev, Andrian, 42

Nixon, President Richard M., 109, 113, 115, 122,

124

North American Aviation Corporation, 34, 39, 47,

73, 76, 78

North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 76

Nova launch vehicle, 7, 12, 13, 15, 28, 33, 40, 51

Nuclear Engine Program, 73

Nuclear Propulsion Office, 73

O’Donnell, Kenneth, 17

Office of Management and Budget (OMB), 6, 124

Office of Manned Spaceflight (OMSF), 35, 36

Office of Programs, 98

Office of Space Flight Programs, 8

Ordway III, Frederick, 5, 39, 68, 85

Organizational charts, 88

Ostrander, Donald R., 23

Paine, Thomas, 108, 111, 112, 113, 115

Palp, John, 43

Peenemünde, 15, 20, 85

Persons, Admiral, 65

Petrone, Dr. Rocco, 81

Phillips, Major General Samuel, 49, 51, 74, 76,

80, 99, 102, 103, 105

Pickering, William, 85

POGO effect, 40

Pogue, William, 123

Polaris Program, 53

Popovich, Pavel, 43

Pregnant Guppy, 34

Project Approval Document (PAD), 98–99

Radio Corporation of American (RCA), 25, 36,

57, 58

156 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Ramo, Simon, 88

Ranger, 8, 20, 59, 85

Redstone Launch Vehicle, 5, 11

Reduction in Force (RIF), 86

Relay, 57

“Report: A Feasible Approach for an Early

Manned Lunar Landing,” 25, 28

“Report: Earth Orbital Rendezvous for an Early

Manned Lunar Landing,” 25

“Report: Large Launch Vehicles Including

Rendezvous,” 25

Request for Proposal (RFP), 92

Request for Quotation (RFQ), 94

Ress, Eberhard, 81

Rice University, 34

Rocket engine

F-1, 9, 10, 12, 25, 29, 35, 39, 68, 86

H-1, 25–33

J2, 9, 12, 25, 35, 39, 40, 68, 69, 86

RL10, 12, 15, 25, 35 

Rubel, John, 19, 20, 23

Rusk, Dean, 61, 74

Sandia National Laboratory, 37

Satellite Interceptor Project (SAINT), 36, 42

Saturn

design configuration C-1, 12, 13, 28

design configuration C-2, 7, 12, 13, 15, 25, 

26, 27, 28, 35

design configuration C-3, 25, 26, 27, 28, 33, 

35

design configuration C-4, 33

design configuration C-5, 36

Saturn I (1–4: only first stage; 5–10: both first 

and second stages), 34, 35, 68, 86, 105, 108

Saturn I (5, first with second stage), 52–54, 86

Saturn IB, 68, 69, 107

Saturn launch vehicle, 7, 9, 10, 15

Saturn V, 34, 35, 39–40, 69, 78, 79, 80, 86, 

108, 120

Scheer, Julian, 3, 51

Schirra, Josephina, 43

Schirra, Walter M., 42–43, 47, 62, 108–109

Schriever, Major General Bernard, 23, 49

Schweickart, Rusty, 111

Scott, David R., 11, 64, 74

Scrivener, Nina, 17

Seaborg, Glenn, 42

Seamans, Gene, 38, 55, 60, 74, 75, 76, 94, 110,

112

Seamans, Joseph, 40, 41, 112

Seamans, Toby, 40, 41

Sears Roebuck, 12

Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space

Science, 76, 78

Sequenced Milestone System (SIMS), 28

Shapley, Willis H., 64, 73, 91

Shea, Joseph F., 37, 43, 49, 51, 74, 80, 103, 104

Shepard, Alan B., 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 30, 38, 42, 85

Silverstein, Abe, 8, 23, 80, 84

Skylab, 118, 123

Slayton, Donald K. “Deke,” 6, 67, 124

Smathers, Senator George A., 52

Smith, Admiral Levering, 23

Snoopy, 111–112

Sohier, Walter, 54

Sorensen, Ted, 21

INDEX 157
Soviet Union, 20, 21, 30

Soyuz

Soyuz 1, 78

Soyuz 2, 109

Soyuz 3, 109

Soyuz 4, 110

Soyuz 5, 110

Space Committee of the Congress, 22

Space Exploration Council (SEC), 7, 12

Space Task Group, 7, 29, 34, 37, 43, 84

Sperry Control Data, 58

Stafford, Thomas P., 62, 65–66, 111–112, 124

Stans, Maurice, 6, 7

Stoller, Morton, 36

Stone, Ann, 77

Stone, Galen, 77

Surveyor, 68, 70, 71

Syncom, 57

Teague, Olin E. “Tiger,” 34

Technology Week, 75

Television Infrared Observatory (TIROS), 5

Telstar, 57

Tereshkova, Valentina, 49

Thant, U, 60, 108

Thomas, Albert, 34, 85, 96

Thompson, Thomas, 36, 72, 74, 77, 80

Thompson Ramo Woldridge (TRW), 48

Tischler, Adelbert O., 51

Titan

Titan II, 40, 58, 62

Titan III, 40

Titan Program, 37

Titov, Gherman S., 30–31

Toynbee, Arnold, 114

United Association of Plumbers and Journeymen, 6

USS Bennington, 80

USS Decatur, 31

USS Donner, 11

USS Essex, 109

USS Guadacanal, 66

USS Guam, 67

USS Hornet, 113, 117

USS Kearsarge, 43, 48

USS Lake Champlain, 18

USS Mason, 64–65

USS Noa, 38

USS Pierce, 39

USS Princeton, 112

USS Randolph, 38

USS Rose Knot Victor, 48, 64

USS Wasp, 65, 67

V2 rocket, 15

Van Allen, Dr. James, 9

Vanguard, 21, 84

Vertical Assembly Building (VAB), 35, 39, 53, 69,

86

Vietnam War, 20

Vision for Space Exploration, 125

158 PROJECT APOLLO | THE TOUGH DECISIONS
Vogel, Colonel Lawrence, 64

von Braun, Wernher, 6, 7, 20, 22, 23, 34, 36, 43,

51, 52, 80, 81, 85, 86, 88, 93, 103, 104

Voskhod 2, 60

Vostok

Vostok 2, 30

Vostok 3, 42–43

Vostok 4, 42–43

Vostok 5, 49

Vostok 6, 49

Walsh, Edward, 18

Washington Evening Star, 75

Webb, James E., 2, 3, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 20, 21,

23, 25, 33, 36, 38, 43, 44–46, 48–49, 51, 52,

53, 58, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 67, 70, 72, 73,

75, 76, 78, 80, 87, 88, 91, 92, 93, 94, 99,

102, 103, 105, 108, 111, 112, 119, 124

Webb, Patsy, 124

Weitz, Peter, 123

White, Edward H. “Teddy,” 54, 60, 74–75

White House, 18, 21, 27

White Sands Proving Ground, 85

Wicker, Thomas, 113

Wiesner, Jerome B., 9, 17, 18, 43, 44, 47, 70

Wiesner Ad Hoc Committee on Missiles and

Space, 9

Williams, Walter, 38

Williamson, David, 2

World War II, 15, 80, 85

Young, John W., 59, 66, 111–112

Young, Professor Lawrence, 118

Young, Robert, 86

Zanzibar, 31

INDEX 159
d

National Aeronautics and Space AdministrationOffice of External RelationsHistory DivisionWashington, DC 20546

Robert C. S

PROJECT APOLLO: The Tough Decisions 

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