Category After Apollo?

Another of the influences on the choice of the full capability shuttle was President Nixon’s interest in its ability to launch the most advanced intelli­gence satellites and to carry out innovative national security missions. Those missions included the shuttle launching on demand during a political or military crisis, conducting a single-orbit satellite deployment or rendezvous, or inspecting or even destroying a potentially hostile satellite.

While the president himself may have been attracted by such national security uses, the reality was that support for the shuttle within the military and intelligence community was at best tepid, both at the time the shut­tle decision was made and afterwards. Deputy Secretary of Defense David Packard’s 1971 flexibility on shuttle requirements is suggestive of an ambiva­lent Department of Defense attitude toward the vehicle, and the effort in late 1971 to get a joint NASA-DOD statement to the president in support of the shuttle apparently did not bear fruit. During 1972 Congressional hearings on the shuttle program, DOD and Air Force testimony was supportive but guarded in character; the military took the position that the DOD would commit to depending on the shuttle only after its capabilities and constant availability had been fully demonstrated. During the mid-1970s top-level Department of Defense support for the shuttle ebbed and flowed. At lower levels of the national security community, there was strong opposition to phasing out expendable launch vehicles until the shuttle was demonstrated to be completely reliable. The DOD did agree to pay the costs of a west coast launch site for the shuttle at Vandenberg Air Force Base, since that location was primarily needed for national security launches into polar orbit. In addi­tion, DOD agreed to be responsible for funding the “space tug” to move pay­loads from the shuttle to higher orbits and for covering the costs of separate launch control centers in Houston and Colorado Springs for managing classi­fied shuttle missions. With the urging of Hans Mark, first as Undersecretary and then as Secretary of the Air Force from 1977 to 1981, and for much of that time also director of the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), some national security satellites were redesigned to take advantage of the shuttle’s attributes. When in 1979 President Jimmy Carter considered canceling the shuttle program because of its cost overruns, it was the national security uses of the shuttle, particularly in terms of launching the photo-reconnaissance satellites needed to verify arms control agreements, that convinced the presi­dent to continue the program. Once the Reagan administration took office in 1981, an early action was to confirm as national policy that the shuttle would be “the primary space launch system for both United States military and civilian government missions.”21

This policy declaration represented the high point of the notion of using the shuttle for national security missions. Within the first years of the Reagan administration, Air Force and NRO resistance to total dependence on the shuttle escalated into a conflict that required a presidential decision to resolve. The consequences of total U. S. dependence on the shuttle had been predicted. In the midst of the shuttle debate in 1971, the OMB had warned “for national security purposes, we may not want all our eggs in one basket.” The Air Force and NRO in 1984 won the right to develop an expendable launch vehicle as a backup to the shuttle for the largest national security payloads; this turned out to be the Titan IV booster. In the aftermath of the January 1986 Challenger accident, most national security payloads were removed from the shuttle and expendable launch vehicle production lines were activated; the nearly complete multibillion dollar West Coast launch site for the shuttle was mothballed.

Only ten dedicated national security missions, eight of which were classi­fied, were launched aboard the space shuttle, including eight missions after the 1986 Challenger accident; the payloads for most of those missions had been uniquely designed for shuttle launch. Some of the capabilities relevant to national security uses, such as satellite repair, recovery, and refueling, were demonstrated on other early shuttle missions. But as a national security system, the shuttle had no continuing utility. One historian of national secu­rity space activities cites a Department of Defense 1992 report that set the cost of redesigning military and reconnaissance spacecraft first to launch on the shuttle and then reconfiguring them again to launch on the expen­sive Titan IV expendable launch vehicles after the Challenger accident as “in excess of $20 billion.”22 None of the ten national security shuttle mis­sions required the cross-range capability that had been an original DOD demand, and none of the innovative missions described in the 1969 DOD/ NASA space shuttle report that had influenced Richard Nixon’s support of the NASA shuttle were ever attempted. Rather than provide new capabili­ties used by the national security community, the shuttle turned out to be a multibillion dollar drain on the national security space budget.

To Nixon, “the most exciting event of the first year of my presidency came in July 1969 when an American became the first man to walk on the moon.” Not only was the historic Apollo 11 mission to the Moon personally exciting to the president, it also provided him an ideal vehicle to promote many of the themes he hoped would characterize his time in the White House, par­ticularly America’s global leadership. In addition, by linking himself closely with the message left on the Moon—“We came in peace for all mankind”— Richard Nixon could portray himself as a peacemaker, eager to reduce the tensions that had led to conflict among nations in the years since World War II. To Nixon, the American spirit, as exemplified by the Apollo missions to the moon, was “the most important psychological weapon that could be used in building the generation of peace.” Nixon had decided that the lunar landing “was (a) a necessary shot in the arm to the American body politic, (b) a lift to the spirit of a war-weary people, (c) a boost for technology that was being unfairly derided by environmentalists—and (d), (e), and (f)—that he was going to be an enthusiastic part of it.”3

Project Apollo had in fact been intended from its 1961 approval by President Kennedy to be a large-scale effort in “soft power,” sending a peace­ful but unmistakable signal to the world that the United States, not its Cold War rival the Soviet Union, possessed preeminent technological and organi­zational power, and that the American way of life provided an example other nations should admire and aspire to follow. In his May 25, 1961, address to a joint session of Congress in which he proposed setting as a national goal sending Americans to the Moon, Kennedy had said “if we are to win the battle for men’s minds, the dramatic achievements in space. . . should have made clear to us all. . . the impact of this adventure on the minds of men everywhere who are attempting to make a determination of which road they should take.”4 Although he was extremely reluctant to acknowledge that the Apollo 11 mission would be the culmination of the pledge Kennedy had made eight years earlier, Richard Nixon agreed with Kennedy’s rationale for the lunar landing effort. Even after the dismal events of the 1960s—assas­sinations, urban riots, and seemingly endless U. S. involvement in a war in Southeast Asia—landing Americans on the Moon, thought Nixon, was an achievement that could help both communicate to the rest of the world an extremely positive image of U. S. leadership and power and restore national morale.

Even before going to the White House press room after his meeting with Johnson, James Webb had made a quick call to NASA Deputy Administrator Thomas O. Paine, telling Paine that his resignation was about to be announced and that the president wanted Paine to serve as acting NASA administra­tor. This shift in command marked a new era for NASA; Tom Paine had a markedly different personality than James Webb. Where Webb was a consum­mate Washington insider, skilled in forging political coalitions in support of NASA’s programs but careful not to get out in front of what in his judgment was politically acceptable, Paine was a Washington outsider, naive in politi­cal dealings, ebullient, and a technological visionary. He had been a subma­rine officer during World War II and had a fascination with all things naval. Paine had a doctorate in physical metallurgy from Stanford and had spent his whole professional career with General Electric. Since 1963 he had been the manager of the General Electric “think tank” called TEMPO; there he was exposed to a wide variety of innovative technological ideas in both the civilian and national security sectors. He had had no particular exposure to the space program prior to coming to NASA. Paine had decided that some Washington experience would be good for his career and had put his name on file with the Civil Service Commission as a person interested in a high-level government position; it was there that NASA found him in January 1968 as it searched for a replacement for Deputy Administrator Robert Seamans.10

In his early months as NASA deputy administrator Paine told senior NASA managers that he saw the position of the United States in space “as somewhat analogous to that of the Atlantic Coast of Europe in the 15th century. We have small ships and crude but usable navigational systems and life-support techniques.” The question for the future, he thought, was “how should we structure our efforts to build navigation capability and conduct exploration?” Paine saw NASA as analogous to the Portuguese “Research Institute for Navigation” that had been established in 1418 by Prince Henry

the Navigator. That “maritime NASA” was “probably as significant as the later dramatic and successful Portuguese voyages of discovery,” Paine sug­gested, because “it provided a central focus for the best European cartogra­phers, astronomers, navigators, shipwrights, riggers, gunners, coopers, and other medieval scientists, technologists, and skilled workers.” This empha­sis on maritime technology, he noted, was “the base on which the Spanish and later the British, French, and Dutch empires were founded, spreading European seacoast culture, technology, and languages around the world.” Paine wondered whether the United States could have “an analogous oppor­tunity in space.”11 It would have been hard to conceive of Jim Webb pursu­ing this line of thought.

As Paine took over the direction of the space agency in October 1968, he urged people at NASA to be bolder in their thinking than they had been while Webb was administrator. New in Washington, believing strongly in the historical importance of the space program, and optimistic that he could convince others of that importance, Paine faced the incoming Nixon admin­istration with anticipation, telling a reporter soon after the presidential elec­tion that he would present the new president “with an ambitious agenda for future man-in-space flights.”12

The STG did organize a session to inform interested members of Congress about STG activities. That meeting produced little of substance. James Schlesinger, deputy director of BOB, attended as an alternate for Mayo, and reported that there was talk of “technology, pride, scientific knowledge, and spiritual uplift” and that a “promotional motive” ran “virtually unchecked throughout the meeting.”12

The STG also organized two sessions with a group of “Invited Contributors” to get some sense of public attitudes with respect to the future in space. Science adviser DuBridge in April had suggested that “a detached and unbiased group of well-informed people could cast a consid­erable amount of light” on what kind of space program the nation should undertake. He proposed that a group “that represents the general public” be formed under the auspices of Vice President Agnew. The vice president approved this proposal and told his assistant Jerome Wolff “Let’s go!”13

Of the 31 invitees, 18 attended the first meeting on July 7. One of them was former child movie star Shirley Temple Black; Agnew’s assistant Wolff assured the vice president that “as you suggested, the little girl who sang ‘On the Good Ship Lollypop’ will be with us.”14 Agnew opened the meet­ing, telling the group “it would be ludicrous to say that you are the man in the street and that this is participatory democracy. Your profile is clearly that of America’s intellectual, industrial, civic, and political leadership. But it is accurate to say that you are here to represent the man in the street and your participation reflects the finest tradition of participatory democracy. We are asking you to advise us on policy decisions that we hope the man in the street will be happy to live with for the next decade.” There was a second meeting of the invited contributors on August 1, this time to hear briefings on the potential for enhanced international space cooperation and on Russian space plans. Many of the invited contributors submitted thoughtful letters after these meetings, but there is no evidence that their views had any direct influ­ence on the content of the STG report or its recommendations.15

At 3:00 p. m. on September 15, President Richard Nixon met in the White House Cabinet Room with the members of the STG (with the exception of Glenn Seaborg, who was out of Washington). In transmitting the STG report to the president, Vice President Spiro Agnew commented that “the three options presented in the report provide properly balanced space pro­grams, and that the range of choice provides flexibility in meeting budget­ary constraints.” Agnew suggested that Nixon choose Option II of the STG report, noting that “the cornerstones for any of the program options are two projects—the space station and the space transportation system.”51

As planned, Russ Drew summarized the report and its recommendations. President Nixon responded that “he felt strongly that the Nation should move forward in space,” and that “while the present financial burdens of the country may limit how fast we were able to move at this time, he wanted to be in a position to move faster in the future if circumstances permit.” Nixon “tended to focus on the manned planetary mission” and welcomed the flexibility in the STG options to decide “in a couple of years” whether to undertake a mission to Mars in 1983. The president “liked the approach of the report. He was pleased that it rejected any substantial reduction in space activities and, at the other extreme, did not propose a crash program for a manned Mars landing.” At the conclusion of the meeting President Nixon “stated a very positive personal view with respect to moving ahead” with U. S. space activities.52

The STG report and the NASA input to the STG, “America’s Next Decades in Space,” were released at a September 17 White House press conference attended by Agnew, DuBridge, Seamans, and Paine. Agnew made public his transmittal letter to President Nixon in which he had recommended

Option II. Seamans and DuBridge chose not to go on the public record with respect to their recommendation to the president, and Paine said he had not yet made his recommendation; he did so in a letter to the president on September 19. Like the vice president, Paine in his letter recommended that Nixon select Option II, “a balanced and challenging program.” Ever the optimist, Paine added, “as the nation progresses toward meeting its other needs during the next few years, I would hope that we might be able to reex­amine this and move closer to Option I.”53

One way that Richard Nixon got information was through his daily news summary. After reading a November 26 column titled “Future of Space

Program is Reaching a Critical Point,” Nixon asked Flanigan to accelerate the public release of his statement on the post-Apollo space program. The column had claimed that the “space program was sinking into some kind of political swamp,” absent presidential guidance, with “confusion among scientists and technological communities about the future of the program, and much more dangerous confusion in the government.” It noted that “the political climate was not favorable to any decision” and warned that “the White House had best be prepared for a political hurricane when President Nixon finally decides what to do next.” Nixon on December 2, as he prepared for his December 5 meeting on the NASA budget, suggested to Flanigan that “the week after next might be an appropriate time” to issue the space statement.7

The president’s request set the White House machinery in rapid motion. On December 9, Flanigan told staff secretary Ken Cole, the coordinator of White House activities, that “we are currently preparing an outline of a speech or statement for the President regarding the future space program. It is thought that this will be delivered or released in approximately 10 days.” In turn, Cole suggested to Jeb Magruder, deputy director of the White House Office of Communications, that “it’s not too early to begin drawing up a game plan” for the announcement of the presidential decision. Cole added that “whatever the decision, there will be something there for somebody to stand up and say hurrah for the President.”8

Whitehead sent a revised version of his outline for the space statement to the White House speechwriting office on December 12; that office, headed by Ray Price, would turn the outline into presidential prose. Whitehead had made a few significant changes from the November version of the out­line, reflecting comments made by the Office of Science and Technology (OST) and BOB staffs. The pace of lunar exploration would not only be designed to maximize scientific return but also to be “consistent with the minimum launch rate for safety and reliability.” This addition reflected an ongoing debate between those advocating only one Apollo launch per year and NASA, which thought launches every four or at most every six months were needed to maintain the performance of the launch team. The 1986 date for a human Mars landing was deleted, and not replaced by any target date for when such a mission might occur. In the launch vehicle section of the outline, the just-made budget decision to suspend production of the Saturn V booster was noted, with the comment that production could “be resumed at any time in the future as the need arises.” A sentence was added saying “we will begin to design a space shuttle that will be re-usable to provide fre­quent, reliable, and low-cost launches for a wide range of payloads.” This was a significant step in decoupling the shuttle from its NASA-advocated role as a logistics vehicle for the space station, and reflected the views of OST and its external advisers of the shuttle’s importance as a lower-cost launch vehicle for all U. S. space missions.9

To this point in time, the White House had not shared the outline of the space statement with NASA. On December 16, as the text of the space statement was being prepared in the White House for a planned December 18 release, Whitehead sent the outline to Paine, promising to send him a full draft of the proposed statement “as soon as it is available.” On the same day, Whitehead shared with Paine the high-profile plan for public release of the statement that had been developed by the White House Office of Communications. That plan called for a short speech by the president before the statement was released. Nixon would be accompanied by Vice President Agnew, science adviser DuBridge, and NASA Administrator Paine. As fol­low-up to the release of the statement, a variety of activities were planned, including obtaining “strong endorsement” from the aerospace industry, preparing statements for astronauts to use in public appearances, plac­ing astronauts and Paine on various news shows, giving advance briefings for Congressional space committees, scheduling NASA briefings in both Washington and Houston for space reporters, preparing short speeches for use by supportive members of Congress, and preparing an informa­tion packet for wide distribution “on the application of space technology to earth technology.”10

A first draft of the space statement did not emerge from the speechwrit­ing office until December 17. Given the delay in preparing the statement, its release was postponed until December 23. The draft was distributed for com­ment on December 18 to Agnew, Flanigan, Paine, Whitehead, DuBridge, Mayo, director of the Office of Communications Herb Klein, and National Aeronautics and Space Council Executive Secretary Bill Anders; comments were due on Monday morning, December 22.11

At the start of his administration, President Nixon had established an Advisory Council on Executive Management, headed by industrialist Roy Ash; it soon became known as the Ash Council. That council soon came up with recommendations for reorganizing the Executive Office of the President to better serve Nixon’s interests. It would take until mid-1970 to turn the Ash Council’s recommendations into reality; the dysfunction of the FY1971 budget process was an important influence on confirming to Nixon that a major change in White House organization was needed. Richard Nixon’s goal was to centralize decision making in a few trusted individuals, with himself presiding as the final arbiter of his administration’s actions without getting directly involved with his cabinet members or other top agency officials.

Shultz and Ehrlichman met with President Nixon on the afternoon of December 1. After hearing the OMB recommendation to cancel both Skylab and NERVA, Nixon indicated he was very reluctant to take those actions, with Skylab being a particularly “tough problem.” Nixon suggested slip­ping the NERVA schedule by one year rather than canceling the program, and asked if there was also a way to stretch out the Skylab schedule to avoid terminating the program and thus causing immediate job losses. There is no record of the discussions regarding the space shuttle or Apollo 17 during the meeting.21

Based on this presidential guidance, OMB developed a proposed NASA budget that included $3.3 billion in new budget authority (NASA had requested $3.7 billion) and $3.2 billion in FY1972 outlays (NASA had requested $3.4 billion). Apollo 17, Skylab, and a start on shuttle engine devel­opment remained in the budget, but NERVA was canceled and a start on developing the space shuttle airframe was not approved. Rice called Low on December 7 to communicate this result. Meeting with Low a few days later, Rice said that the major reason for retaining Skylab and thus approving the NASA budget at a higher level than the OMB staff had recommended “was the employment situation in the aerospace industry.” Apollo 17 had been approved “because of the inputs from the scientists.”22

Low wrote President Nixon on December 14, requesting reconsidera­tion of the NASA budget decisions. He offered two reasons for such action. One was “the grave unemployment situation in the aerospace industry.” The other was that “the Soviet challenge in space science and technology threat­ens our hard-earned superiority.” With respect to the former reason, Low argued that a “visible effect” in countering unemployment was possible by 1972 “by adding only the relatively small amounts needed to make a start on the space shuttle airframe.” With respect to the Soviet challenge, adding funds for a start on the airframe would reduce the period during which the Soviet Union would be flying people to space while the United States was not “by a year and permit us to point clearly to the time when the US will again be first in space.” Low was able to meet with OMB Deputy Director Weinberger as he hand-delivered the NASA appeal letter. The meeting “was not a very satisfactory one in that Weinberger received a half a dozen or so phone calls during the course of our discussions, and I was never really able to complete a point.” Low left the meeting with the feeling that “our request for reconsideration on. . . the shuttle would be denied.”23

According to his senior advisor John Ehrlichman, the Apollo astronauts were to Nixon “very wonderful people. There was just not enough the coun­try can do for these guys, and they are doing an enormous amount for the country. . . He would always be enormously stimulated by contact with these folks. And there was an element of hero worship on his part.” Nixon “liked heroes. He thought it was good for this country to have heroes.”5 Apollo 8 commander Frank Borman suggested that the president believed that the Apollo astronauts were “something special—not as individuals so much as for what we represented.” According to veteran Time/Life correspondent Hugh Sidey, whenever Nixon met with one or more of the Apollo astronauts, “the color comes to his face and the bounce to his step.” Sidey suggested that Nixon saw the astronauts as “the sons he never had. . . They are the distill­ers of what Nixon considers to be the best in this country.”6 Nixon saw the Apollo astronauts as exemplars of the best characteristics of Americans and was eager to use them both overseas and in the United States as role models for what humans could achieve with positive intent and sufficient determina­tion. Nixon’s attitude toward the Apollo astronauts led to a judgment on the part of those planning post-Apollo space efforts that he would never accept a proposal to end U. S. human space flights; any future NASA program would have to keep Americans flying in space.

While Nixon may have had positive feelings toward all of the Apollo astro­nauts, he developed a continuing relationship with only one of the group— Frank Borman. The Apollo 8 commander was invited to Nixon’s inaugural; to Borman, the invitation suggested that “Nixon was not only genuinely interested in space, but seemed to have embraced me personally as the space program’s symbolic representative.”7 By the time of the inauguration Borman was already scheduled to go on a three-week European “goodwill” tour. One of the first decisions of the incoming Nixon administration was to give its approval to the trip; Nixon’s secretary of state, William Rogers, later told Borman “we clearly made a wise decision.”

The Apollo 8 crew was invited to the White House on January 30, as the president announced that “it is very appropriate for Colonel Borman to go to Western Europe and to bring. . . not only the greetings of the people of the United States, but to point out what is the fact: that we in America do not consider that this is a monopoly, these great new discoveries that we are making; that we recognize the great contributions that others have made and will make in the future; and that we do want to work together with all peoples on this earth in the high adventure of exploring the new areas of space.” Upon his return to Washington, Borman reported that “space technology in Europe lags behind American achievement by a considerable amount” and suggested that the United States “immediately request an international agency to select a certain number of qualified scientists from different nations of the earth to join our program to participate as scientists/ astronauts in future earth-orbital space stations.” This suggestion interested Richard Nixon; in the months to come he would press his associates to find ways to fly non-U. S. individuals on future U. S. space flights.8

Borman was surprised by “the extent to which Richard Nixon accepted me.” Indeed, until he left NASA and government service in mid-1970, Borman served as Nixon’s “in-house astronaut,” frequently consulted on space policy and personnel issues as well as serving as liaison between the White House and NASA during the Apollo 11 and Apollo 13 missions. Borman in early 1969 and again in fall 1970 might even have become head of NASA if he had been so inclined. With respect to his relationship with President Nixon, Borman recalls that “I liked him, I really did. . . I know he was terribly shy, even ill at ease with people he didn’t know, and when it came to making small talk he was a disaster.” However, “we never had to engage in small talk; at every meeting I had with him, we always discussed important matters on a one-on-one basis. He took advice—and sometimes it was advice that he either didn’t want to hear or that was contrary to what his advisers had told him.” Borman was “sure that he trusted me personally and he trusted my judgment in areas in which he knew I had some knowl – edge.”9

By early 1968, James Webb had grudgingly come to accept the need for NASA to begin to plan for its future. He first commissioned an internal study led by one of NASA’s most senior people, director of NASA’s Langley Research Center Floyd Thompson, and involving other experienced NASA leaders. This “Post-Apollo Advisory Group” reported to Webb in July 1968 that “objectives for manned space flight in earth orbit for the period immedi­ately ahead must focus on deepening our understanding of man’s capabilities and needs in a weightless space environment for extended periods of time.” This advice led inexorably to identifying some form of orbital outpost—a space station—as the most appropriate post-Apollo program. A space station had been part of NASA’s planning even before the lunar landing program was begun, and there had been a number of NASA studies of space station concepts during the 1960s. To serve as the crew transportation vehicle for a space station, the group thought that initially the three-person Apollo command and service modules could be used but, as crew size increased and capabilities for a land landing and spacecraft reuse were developed, a modi­fied Gemini spacecraft launched by an expendable rocket was the appropriate choice to carry later crews to a space station.13

NASA’s Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight George Mueller was not part of the Thompson study team. A hard-charging, bril­liant, tough-minded individual, Mueller since arriving at NASA in September 1963 had become almost autonomous in his management of NASA’s human space flight efforts. He had a different idea with respect to what should be NASA’s top post-Apollo priority. In an August 1968 speech to the British Interplanetary Society, he noted that “the exploitation of space is limited in concept and extent by the very high cost of putting payload in orbit, and the inaccessibility of objects once they have been launched.” This reality, said Mueller, led him to conclude that “the next major thrust in space will be the development of an economical launch vehicle for shuttling between Earth and the installations, such as the orbiting space station, which will soon be operating in space.” Mueller characterized such a vehicle as a “space shuttle.” Over the next three years, Mueller’s idea would become central to NASA’s plans for the future.14

Webb in early 1968 also selected Homer Newell, who had been involved in NASA’s space science activities since the agency’s inception and who at the time headed NASA’s Office of Space Science and Applications, to be the NASA associate administrator, the agency’s number three position. Newell’s primary responsibility was to design and manage what was characterized as an “experiment” in NASA-wide long range planning. Newell organized the planning effort in a very bureaucratic manner. There was little prog­ress during 1968 in achieving an integrated approach to NASA’s long-range plans. The results of the planning experiment, Newell admitted, “were not up to the standards of boldness and imagination expected. . . or worthy of our first decade in space.” NASA had become “so conditioned to retreat over the past two years that an intellectual conservatism pervaded the plan­ning. . . The total effect in terms of forward motion was pedestrian, even timid.” One major issue with respect to the planning experiment was the limited participation of Mueller’s Office of Manned Space Flight. As Newell commented, “the problem with manned space flight was that they were in the habit of going it alone, they wanted to go it alone, and they intended to go it alone.”15