THE ALL-AMERICAN

Before his selection as an astronaut, Glenn’s two claims to fame in the public eye were setting a supersonic cross-country record for flying from America’s west to east coasts in just three hours, 23 minutes and 8.4 seconds as part of the Navy’s Project

Bullet… and appearing alongside ten-year-old Eddie Hodges to win the CBS television show ‘Name That Tune’.

In the wake of his astronaut career, Glenn’s fame skyrocketed. Not only did he become the first American to orbit the Earth, which, in many minds, actually eclipsed the achievement of Al Shepard, but he enjoyed a highly successful career in politics, serving with distinction for a quarter of a century as a senator and running unsuccessfully for the presidency in the 1984 election. During his final days in the Senate, I wrote to Glenn’s office and was pleasantly surprised to receive a personally – signed black-and-white photograph of the great man, clad in the silver pressure suit that he wore for his five-hour Mercury mission more than three decades earlier. His fame resurfaced in October 1998, when he hurtled into orbit aboard Space Shuttle Discovery, securing yet another record which still stands: at 77, he remains the oldest person ever to journey into space.

To the media, Glenn was a hero from the very day that he and the other members of the Mercury Seven were introduced in April 1959. Freckle-faced, witty, articulate and charismatic, he was described by some journalists as epitomising ‘all-American’ qualities and many were surprised when he did not secure the first American suborbital flight. Others did not buy Glenn’s ‘boy-next-door’ act, including Chris Kraft, who had dealings with him years earlier when working on the Vought Crusader naval fighter. Kraft considered Glenn’s head to be ‘‘up and locked’’ – a tongue-in-cheek reference to the retraction of an aircraft’s landing gear – and, indeed, the astronaut’s politicking to secure MR-3 for himself had even led to a stern reprimand from Bob Gilruth to stop backbiting. After Gilruth’s decision to fly Shepard first, Glenn had complained bitterly that the December 1960 peer vote had turned the selection process into a popularity contest. Glenn felt strongly that his advice, given to his Mercury Seven colleagues about the damaging effect of womanising on their public image, had cost him what he perceived to be his rightful seat on MR-3. ‘‘I didn’t think being an astronaut was a popularity contest,’’ Glenn wrote years later. ‘‘I was wrong about that.’’

By the time he finally flew, in February 1962, Glenn was 40 years old, making him by far the oldest among the Mercury Seven. He had been born in Cambridge, Ohio, on 18 July 1921, although he grew up and received his education in the town of New Concord, studying engineering. Already, as a youth, he had undergone flight training and took the Army Air Corps’ physical examination and passed. However, when no orders materialised, he took the Navy’s physical, which he also passed and was sworn into the Naval Aviation Cadet Program. Initial training at the University of Iowa was followed by preparation at Olathe, Kansas, and finally at Corpus Christi, Texas. It was whilst stationed at the latter base that Glenn learned of his eligibility to apply for the Marine Corps, which he did, winning his wings and lieutenant’s bars in 1943. That same April, he married Annie Castor.

After a year of training, Glenn joined Marine Fighter Squadron 155, flying F-4U combat missions in the Marshall Islands of the South Pacific during the Second World War. He returned to the United States shortly before the end of the conflict to begin test pilot work at Patuxent River, Maryland, evaluating new aircraft. Subsequently, he served as an instructor in advanced flight training at Corpus Christi from 1948-50, completed marine amphibious warfare training and flew 63 combat missions during the Korean conflict. It was whilst in south-east Asia that Glenn shot down three MiGs along the Yalu River, earning himself the nickname ‘MiG Mad Marine’. (He was also tagged ‘Magnet Ass’ for his ability to attract flak.)

Overall, in the Second World War and Korea, he flew 149 combat missions and his chestful of medals proved it: six Distinguished Flying Crosses and an Air Medal with 18 clusters. After Korea, he joined the Navy’s Test Pilot School at Pax River, later serving as project officer for a number of advanced fighters. Whilst serving in this capacity for the F-8U Crusader, in July 1957, he set the transcontinental speed record by flying non-stop from Los Alamitos Naval Air Station in California to Floyd Bennett Field on Long Island. The attempt arose from Glenn’s desire to kill two birds with one stone: running the Crusader’s engines in afterburner at full combat power whilst at high altitude and seizing the Air Force-held transcontinental speed record, which then stood at three hours and 45 minutes.

‘‘We could do the test,’’ he wrote in his memoir, ‘‘and also call attention to the fine plane the Navy had purchased as its frontline fighter.’’ Under the name ‘Project Bullet’ – so-called because the Crusader flew faster than the muzzle velocity of a bullet from a.45-calibre pistol – Glenn volunteered himself as pilot for the attempt. ‘‘The plane flew beautifully,” he wrote of the epic flight on 16 July 1957. Glenn, who beat the previous record by 21 minutes, was awarded another Distinguished Flying Cross. It was in the wake of the flight that he was approached with an invitation to appear on the television quiz show ‘Name That Tune’, alongside Eddie Hodges from Mississippi. The pair won the $25,000 first prize.

Consequently, in the eyes of the public, Glenn was probably the most recognisable when the Mercury Seven were introduced at the Dolley Madison House less than two years later. ‘‘He was already first among equals,’’ wrote Scott Carpenter in his autobiography, co-authored with daughter Kris Stoever, ‘‘the oldest of the seven, with the most military and combat experience, a television celebrity and holder of a transcontinental speed record. He wore old clothes, old cowboy hats and lived next to his dearest friend, Tom Miller, his roommate and wingman from World War II.’’ His purchase, at the height of the sports-car craze, of a tiny $1,400 Prinz, barely big enough for two passengers, looked somewhat comical parked alongside Al Shepard’s brand-new Corvette. By his own admission, Glenn bought it for its great mileage, which got him from his home in Arlington to Langley for less than a dollar. Yet Glenn turned the humour around, one day writing on a classroom blackboard a quote that he had seen in Reader’s Digest: “Definition of a sports car: a hedge against male menopause!’’

Even during the initial press conference, when each astronaut candidate spoke about their lives, their wives, their families and their dreams, Glenn was by far the most eloquent: speaking at length about love of God, family and his desire to serve his country. The others rolled their eyes, but, in Glenn’s mind, it was part and parcel of achieving the goal of being the best of the seven and becoming the first man in space. Indeed, he was so adored by the public and the media that questions were asked of NASA press spokesman Shorty Powers as to why Shepard, not Glenn, had received the coveted Redstone mission. Powers’ response was that, out of the three

final candidates, Shepard was the best, but Glenn remained furious. Only when Gilruth firmly set him in line did he grudgingly abandon his effort to undermine Shepard and train as his backup. For the Marine Corps, however, the reason behind the decision was obvious: NASA was saving ‘the best’ flight, the first orbital flight, for a Marine.