Category After Apollo?

Almost from the start of his administration, there had been suggestions that President Nixon spell out his views on the future in space in a formal state­ment or speech. As the STG report was submitted, one of the NASA senior staff who had been working with the group, Milt Rosen, observed that “the President is going to make. . . a policy statement on space, and presumably one comparable in importance with the statement of President Kennedy in 1961.”2

It was the need to respond to the STG report that ultimately led to the formal statement of Richard Nixon’s post-Apollo space policy; that pro­nouncement is called here the “Nixon space doctrine.” But the presidential statement, issued only on March 7, 1970, six months after the STG report had been submitted, was hardly the kind of clarion call to leadership in space that President John F. Kennedy had proposed to the Congress and the nation on May 25, 1961.3 Rather, it was carefully balanced between provid­ing a positive but very general vision for future space development and mak­ing it clear that the space program would no longer be treated as it had been during Apollo, as “special,” operating outside the normal process for setting national priorities and based on highly mobilized efforts to achieve chal­lenging goals. In a rather negative way, the Nixon space doctrine was indeed comparable in importance to Kennedy’s 1961 setting of a lunar landing as a national goal, for it set out a framework for making space decisions that not only Richard Nixon, but most subsequent occupants of the White House, have used over the past 40 plus years. The framework put in place by Richard Nixon on March 7, 1970, has thus had a far more lasting impact on national space policy than John Kennedy’s 1961 decision to go to the Moon.

With NASA’s cancelation of two Apollo missions to the Moon, deferral of space station development, and the decision to make the space shuttle the centerpiece of its post-Apollo hopes, the curtain came down on the first act in the drama of setting the content and direction of the post-Apollo space program. NASA Administrator Tom Paine’s hope of getting, in the months following the success of the Apollo 11 lunar landing and the submission of the Space Task Group (STG) report, White House support for a fast-paced space effort in the 1970s had been decisively denied. The Nixon White House in shaping a post-Apollo space effort had decided not to build on the national investment in the capabilities that had made Apollo possible.

In February 1969 Richard Nixon had asked for a "definitive recom­mendation on the direction which the U. S. space program should take in the post-Apollo period." When seven months later he received that recommendation in the form of the STG report, he and especially his policy and budget advisors found it not at all to their liking. NASA, with the active assistance of Vice President Spiro Agnew, had in essence seized control of the STG; none of the other members had fought hard for a different recommendation than one centered on space station and space shuttle development during the 1970s, lead­ing to missions to Mars in the 1980s. Secretary of the Air Force Robert Seamans in both August and September had presented alternatives to that approach, but had not been persistent in his advocacy. Science adviser Lee DuBridge, rather than act as an advocate for the views of his external advisory committee, which favored the space shuttle and

was skeptical about the value of a space station, chose to be a media­tor with respect to his fellow STG members, seeking an outcome that all could accept. Budget Director Robert Mayo decided to deal with space issues in the context of FY1971 budget decisions rather than argue within the STG for a program he thought the president could support. The STG participants from the Atomic Energy Commission and the Department of State had narrower interests that the totality of the post-Apollo program, and thus deferred to NASA’s recommenda­tions.

Even in the aftermath of the triumph of the Apollo 11 lunar landing, the question of the content and pace of the post-Apollo space program had relatively low priority in the Nixon White House, as the president grappled with a recalcitrant economy and a looming budget deficit, not to mention various overseas involvements of higher interest to him. This lack of top-level interest in the future of the space program allowed a junior member of the White House staff, Clay Thomas "Tom" Whitehead, to exercise substantial influence on how the president and his senior advisers responded to the STG report. Although there was significant confusion and competition in roles between the White House policy staff, represented by Whitehead and his boss, Assistant to the President Peter Flanigan, and the Bureau of the Budget staff mem­bers dealing with space issues and their director, Robert Mayo, the two groups were united in their skepticism regarding the value of the kind of post-Apollo space program Paine was so insistently advocating. Their views carried the day with President Nixon, who by most indications was personally in favor of a more ambitious NASA program than his advisers favored. Nixon, apparently reluctantly, came to the conclusion that there was neither the public and political support nor the budget wherewithal to support such space ambitions. As Flanigan commented at the time, there was in the White House in 1969 and early 1970 "a feel­ing that the country had had enough excitement for now"; the result was "a series of negative decisions—no, we won’t do this."1

The March 1970 presidential statement on space was deliberately noncommittal, seeming to echo the STG report by identifying the space station and space shuttle as desirable future developments, but also indicating that they and other NASA proposals would have to compete with other government programs for funding. To optimists like Paine, the statement seemed still to leave the door slightly open for future approval of some version of the STG program, but that was not a realistic reading of White House intent.

All of this was clear to Whitehead, who observed that "no compel­ling reason to push space was ever presented to the White House by

NASA or anyone else." Reflecting in 1971 on his space policy experi­ences, Whitehead suggested that

this Administration has never really faced up to where we are going in Space. NASA, with some help from the Vice President, made a try in 1969 to get the President committed to an "ever-onward-and-upward" post – Apollo program with continued budget growth into the $6-10 billion range. We were successful in holding that off at least temporarily, but we have not developed any theme or consistency in policy. As a result, NASA is both drifting and lobbying for bigger things—without being forced to focus realistically on what it ought to be doing . . . We have cut the NASA budget, but they manage. . . to get a "compromise" of a few hundred million on their shuttle and space station plans. Is the President really going to ignore a billion or so of sunk costs when he gets hit for the really big money in a year or two? . . . There needs to be a sense of direction, both publicly and within NASA. The President’s statement on the seventies in space laid the groundwork, but no one is following up.

Whitehead suggested that "we really ought to decide if we mean to muddle through on space policy for the rest of the President’s term in office" and pointed out the need to answer a crucial question: "What do we expect of a space program?"2 How that question was answered (or not) will be the central focus of the second act of this drama.

Richard Nixon was scheduled to meet with John Ehrlichman and George Shultz on December 1 for an initial discussion of the NASA budget. The issues identified by OMB as requiring presidential decision were: whether to continue lunar exploration through Apollo 17; whether to start space shut­tle development or just begin engine development and defer an airframe commitment; whether to cancel Skylab; and whether to cancel the NERVA (nuclear rocket engine) effort. Other NASA issues would be decided without direct presidential involvement.

P resident-elect Richard Nixon, like most Americans, was thrilled by the December 1968 Apollo 8 mission, the first space flight to leave Earth orbit with humans aboard. Apollo 8 sent Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders into orbit around the Moon on December 24. In his Memoirs, Nixon recalled that on that Christmas Eve, he “was a happy man.” At his retreat on Key Biscayne, Florida, “a wreath hung on the front door and a beautifully trimmed Christmas tree stood in the living room. . . Far out in space Apollo VIII orbited the moon while astronaut Frank Borman read the story of the Creation from the Book of Genesis.[1] Those days were rich with happiness and full of anticipation and hope.”1

The afterglow of the bold Apollo 8 mission was still bright as Richard Milhous Nixon was sworn in as the thirty-seventh president of the United States on January 20, 1969. References to that mission and to space explora­tion in general appeared throughout the new president’s inaugural address:

• “In throwing wide the horizons of space, we have discovered new hori­zons on earth.”

• “We find ourselves rich in goods, but ragged in spirit; reaching with magnificent precision for the moon, but falling into raucous discord on earth.”

• “As we explore the reaches of space, let us go to new worlds together—not as new worlds to be conquered, but as a new adventure to be shared.”

• “Only a few weeks ago we shared the glory of man’s first sight of the world as God sees it, as a single sphere reflecting light in the darkness. As the Apollo astronauts flew over the moon’s grey surface on Christmas Eve, they spoke to us of the beauty of earth.”

• “In that moment of surpassing technological triumph, men turned their thoughts toward home and humanity—seeing in that far perspective that

man’s destiny on earth is not divisible; telling us that however far we reach into the cosmos, our destiny lies not in the stars but on earth itself.”2

As he assumed the presidency, Richard Nixon was well aware that the success of the Apollo 8 mission meant that the United States during his first year in the White House almost surely would achieve the lunar landing goal set by Nixon’s long-time nemesis John F. Kennedy eight years earlier. He also knew that in his first year in office he would face significant space policy decisions, choices that would set the path in space for the United States for the coming decade and beyond. But there was no sense of urgency within the Nixon administration with respect to defining what the United States would do in space after landing on the Moon; the space program was not high on Nixon’s policy agenda. More important in the short run was making sure that the lunar landing program was a success and that Richard Nixon was closely identified with that success.

James Webb had insisted from the early years of Apollo that the undertaking was about much more than landing men on the Moon. Rather, its purpose was “to become preeminent” in all areas of space activity, and to do so “in such a manner that our emerging scientific, technological, and operational competence in space is clearly evident.” To Webb (and John Kennedy), the space program was an instrument of national power, not an enterprise driven by the human desire to explore. In order to make sure that there was enough equipment to achieve the lunar landing goal, NASA ordered 15 Saturn V Moon rockets, 15 lunar landing spacecraft, and 20 command and service module spacecraft. The expectation was that most of this hardware would be necessary to assure Apollo’s success; it seemed likely that a number of attempts would have to be made to achieve the various milestones in the lunar landing program.7

At the peak of the Apollo buildup in fiscal year (FY) 1965, NASA’s bud­get was $5.25 billion; just four years later, the budget had shrunk by some 20 percent, to $3.99 billion, and NASA had only a few approved human space flight missions for the 1970s. Clearly NASA needed new objectives if it were to maintain the skilled workforce assembled for Apollo and other elements of its rapid 1960s buildup and to make use of the facilities and capabilities in which the nation had invested billions of dollars.

Given this lack of future large missions, Webb on August 1, 1968, refused to approve a request to begin procurement of “long-lead-time” items for the Saturn V Moon rocket, beginning the process of shutting down the booster’s production line. This decision was deeply disappointing to Webb. It represented “only the most recent in a series of cutbacks that constitute what may be called a national decision.” To Webb, that decision was “that the United States is not pursuing, for the time being at least, its goal of ‘pre­eminence’ in space.”8

By mid-1968, James Webb was “noticeably very, very tired.” Webb had for some time planned to retire from NASA before the 1968 presidential election. On September 16, 1968, he went to the White House to discuss the timing of his resignation with President Johnson. Given Webb’s unhappiness with

Johnson’s recent lack of support for NASA, it is likely that he made his disap­pointment known to the president. Johnson himself was eager to escape from the burdens of the presidency, and he was not very receptive to Webb’s con­cerns. Somewhat to Webb’s surprise, Johnson immediately accepted Webb’s resignation, effective on Webb’s 62nd birthday, October 7, and sent Webb to the White House press room to announce that action. Asked by a reporter to comment on the status of the space program, Webb responded “I am not satis­fied with the program. I am not satisfied that we as a nation have not been able to go forward to achieve a first position in space.” Commenting on Webb’s departure, The Washington Post noted that he was leaving NASA without its having “a set mission beyond landing on the moon. . . The fading American taste for competition with the Russians in space and the rising competition of other claimants for Federal funds explains NASA’s uncertain estate.” The situ­ation was “hardly his fault,” but for Webb, “it is a bitter pill.”9

After this March 22 meeting, the STG principals would not gather again to discuss the substance of their report for over four months; the next meet­ing took place only on August 4. In the meantime, the STG-related staffs of NASA, DOD, and OST engaged in discussions without reaching a con­sensus. According to Paine, “everybody put forth his own view and listened somewhat impatiently to the other people’s view and the discussions were fairly general and hadn’t really arrived at much of anywhere.”11

The STG decisions to re-label the program options and restructure the report text led to a hurried effort over the next several days to reflect these decisions in the printed text of the STG report in time for it to be presented to the president four days later. NASA’s Wyatt was the key NASA actor in this final revision. What had been Option A was relabeled “Maximum Pace.” The report said that because that option represented “an initial rate of growth of resources which cannot be realized because such budgetary requirements would substantially exceed predicted funding capabilities,” it had “been rejected by the Space Task Group.” What had been Option E was relabeled “Low Level.” The report noted that “the Space Task Group is con­vinced that a decision to phase out manned space flight operations, although painful, is the only way to achieve significant reductions in NASA budgets over the long term.”

The “Conclusions and Recommendations” section of the draft report was moved to the front of the text and set in a different type face than the rest of the 29-page report. The basic recommendation was “that this Nation accept the basic goal of a balanced manned and unmanned space program con­ducted for the benefit of all mankind.” The group noted its conclusion that “a forward-looking space program for the future of this Nation should include continuation of manned space flight activity.” The STG recommended “as a focus for the development of new capability,” that “the United States accept the long-range option or goal of manned planetary exploration with a manned

Mars mission before the end of this century as the first target.” This was a much softer goal than was contained in the program options presented later in the report, and in effect removed issues associated with a decision to send humans to Mars from consideration during the Nixon administration. The rewritten text noted that “schedule and budgetary implications. . . are subject to Presidential choice” and that decisions on what systems to develop and on what schedule would be determined “in a normal annual budget and program review process.” The report proposed that NASA should “develop new systems and technology for space operations with emphasis on the criti­cal factors of: (1) commonality, (2) reusability, and (3) economy, through a program directed initially toward development of a new space transpor­tation capability and space station modules that utilize this capability.” In particular, “should it be decided to develop concurrently the space transpor­tation system and the modular space station, a rise of annual expenditures to approximately $6 billion in 1976 is required.” However, “if the space station and the transportation system were developed in series. . . a lower level of approximately $4-5 billion could be met.”50

In recommending that President Nixon endorse Option II of the STG report, NASA Administrator Tom Paine on September 19, 1969, had also suggested that the president quickly issue a statement announcing that endorsement. Peter Flanigan, the assistant to the president with oversight responsibility for the space program, agreed with Paine, and intended to take the lead in pre­paring such a statement. Although an immediate declaration was opposed by BOB Director Robert Mayo, Flanigan persisted in his effort, asking his assis­tant Tom Whitehead on October 6 to “draft a statement that the President might use, picking Option 2 but providing his flexibility along the lines sug­gested in my memorandum of October 4.” In that memorandum, Flanigan had argued that he did not “believe that the President can delay until the budget review to respond to the Space Task Group report to him” and had proposed a presidential statement saying “that after a review of the Space Task Group’s report. . . we should plan on a Mars landing in the mid-1980s,” without also endorsing the STG recommendation that NASA should first develop a space station and space shuttle during the 1970s. Science adviser Lee DuBridge joined Flanigan in arguing for an earlier statement, saying that “many thousands of people employed in the Space Program, as well as many millions of citizens, are anxiously awaiting an indication of the President’s proposals for the future.”4

Despite the urgings of Flanigan and DuBridge, the White House decided that no immediate presidential space statement was desirable; Mayo’s posi­tion that such a statement should follow and reflect, not guide, FY1971 bud­get decisions prevailed. Given the lack of time pressure, Whitehead did not complete an initial outline of a possible statement until mid-November. In transmitting his draft to Flanigan, Whitehead noted that it was “a compro­mise between strong positive words and the restraint necessary to maintain the President’s flexibility in budgeting.” He alerted Flanigan to the fact that he had “not specifically referred to Option II of the STG,” since “to do so would have the effect of locking us into the spending stream projected for that option as a floor on NASA expectations.” Whitehead suggested that “a draft outline should be sent to the President along with a memo showing what we are and are not letting Paine commit us now to begin spending on.”5

Many of the features of the eventual presidential statement issued in March 1970 were already present in Whitehead’s November 17, 1969, draft, which listed three goals for the nation’s space efforts—exploration, science, and Earth applications. Notable was that exploration was separated from science as an activity “worthwhile in and of itself.” The outline suggested a policy shift “to a continuing program of exploration and application” which would be “a continuing process rather than a series of crash timetables.” Listed among “major program goals and initiatives for the next decade in space” were continued lunar landings “paced at a rate to maximize scien­tific returns”; a “newly designed Experimental Space Station” (This was the orbital workshop soon to be named Skylab); and a “longer lived Space Station Module that will serve both as a near-earth space station and a building block for manned interplanetary travel.” A Mars landing, “perhaps as early as 1986,” would follow. The outline called for efforts to “lower the costs of space launches,” but did not mention the space shuttle. Rather, it sug­gested that “our recently developed rocket technology will provide a reliable launch capability through the next decade,” with continuing research “to make possible even lower costs for launching space payloads in the future.” A final initiative was to “expand international cooperation.” With respect to funding, the outline suggested that the president should say “we will seek to provide a stable level of expenditures to enable steady progress consistent with other pressing national priorities,” but also hold out the hope “to be able to expand our effort in some years and move some accomplishments nearer in time.”6

As the curtain rose on the second act of the drama of post-Apollo deci­sion making, there were a number of changes in its cast of characters, both at the White House and at NASA. The White House framework for mak­ing space policy decisions was changed by creating two new structures—the Domestic Council and the Office of Management and Budget—to over­see the development of policy and budget options for presidential decision. This meant that the heads of those new organizations would inescapably be involved in space-related deliberations. Science adviser Lee DuBridge left; he was replaced by a young engineer from the private sector, Edward E. David, Jr. Tom Whitehead, who as Peter Flanigan’s assistant had been influential in shaping President Nixon’s early space decisions, moved to a new posi­tion within the Executive Office of the President, but still stayed occasion­ally involved in NASA-related issues. There was a proposal to eliminate the National Aeronautics and Space Council and its staff; while this proposal was not acted on, the council staff were not able during 1970-1971 to become significant actors in the policymaking process, although the council’s execu­tive secretary, Bill Anders, became personally involved.

At NASA, Dale Myers, a senior executive from North American Rockwell, where he had been working on the Apollo spacecraft and then space shuttle studies, succeeded George Mueller as associate administrator for manned space flight on January 9, 1970. In that position Myers was in charge not only of the ongoing Apollo and Skylab efforts but also of studies of the space station and space shuttle. Wernher von Braun moved to the agency’s Washington headquarters from his position as director of the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama. In Washington, he would lead the agency’s planning effort; Tom Paine’s hope was that he also could be a “super salesman” for NASA’s ambitious post-Apollo aspirations. Then, after making one last attempt to gain support for such an undertaking, NASA Administrator Paine in August 1970 abruptly resigned to return to private industry. NASA was left with an acting administrator, George Low, as it fought in fall 1970 for approval of its proposals for future programs, par­ticularly the space shuttle. In that struggle, NASA found itself dealing with

a number of individuals new to the post-Apollo decision making process and skeptical of the value to the president and the country of a major commit­ment to developing a new capability for human space flight.

As time for the presidential meeting approached, there were several new inputs into the decision process. One was the OMB paper that Weinberger had requested, putting the staff recommendations in a broader context. The paper compared the employment effects of canceling Skylab, Apollo 17, and NERVA. Job losses if NERVA were canceled were estimated to be 2,600; if Apollo 17 were canceled; 6,000-7,000; if Skylab were canceled, 18,000­20,000, with 9,000 of those job losses coming in California. Science adviser David also weighed in, supporting retention of the Apollo 17 mission. He said that Apollo 17 “is of considerably higher priority” than either Skylab or NERVA and noted that canceling Apollo 17 “would give rise to a consider­able chorus of criticism among the scientific community. In my view, this is the wrong place to cut.”18

Ehrlichman forwarded to President Nixon a memorandum on the employment impact of cuts in the NASA budget that had been pre­pared by Will Kriegsman of Flanigan’s staff, who had taken over most of Whitehead’s responsibilities vis-a-vis NASA. Kriegsman suggested, using the figures in the OMB staff paper, that Skylab not be canceled “because of the employment situation and because we have already invested $1B in the program.” Instead, he proposed, “we should try to save some FY72 money by slipping Skylab’s schedule 6 to 12 months,” and that “we [should] defer the initiation of the Space Shuttle program.” OMB had rec­ommended $133 million to start shuttle engine development; Kriegsman suggested total deferral of this new start. He argued that “the problem with the shuttle is that it will cost $8-$10 B as a minimum over the next 10 years. Neither the economic nor the technical justifications are. . . suf­ficiently defined at this point for us to make such a commitment in the FY1972 budget.” After reading Kriegsman’s memo, Nixon, in a handwrit­ten note on the document’s final point regarding a shuttle commitment, commented “this is persuasive.” That comment likely sealed the shuttle’s fate for FY1972.19

Ed Harper also prepared several background memos to prepare Ehrlichman for his meeting on the NASA budget. Following up on Kriegsman’s memo on aerospace unemployment, Harper told Ehrlichman “the employment fac­tor in the NASA budget decisions is a significant but complicated phenom­enon.” He noted that, while the program that NASA had proposed would “result in a gradual increase in employment throughout 1971,” the OMB recommendation “would result in a sharp decline continuing through calen­dar 1971 for a total cut of 20,000 aerospace employees.” He also noted that while OMB and OST had given retaining the Apollo 17 mission their high­est priority and had given Skylab lower priority, NASA had ranked the lunar mission behind both retaining Skylab and starting the shuttle. His advice to Ehrlichman was “that the optimal budget decisions on the NASA options is to (1) continue Skylab, (2) slip the shuttle engine development, (3) continue with Apollo 17, and (4) cancel NERVA.”20