Riding Rockets

In early 1985, NASA HQ announced Senator Jake Garn would fly on STS-51D. The astronaut grapevine said Garn didn’t so much as request a flight, as specify to NASA which flight he would take. Supposedly he required a flight in early 1985 to ensure minimum conflict with his senatorial duties and his reelection campaign. We also heard that four other politicians, hearing of Garn’s assignment, immediately asked NASA for their own flights, and NASA HQ had requested JSC to start looking at reducing the number of MSes on missions to accommodate them and the growing list of other passengers. It was a kick in the balls and ovaries to astronaut morale. A disgusted Steve Hawley suggested that all of us should walk out on a strike and refuse to fly any missions until HQ desisted in their efforts to give MS seats to part-timers. What an image that comment conjured—astronauts walking a picket line in front of the JSC gate chanting, “Hell no, we won’t go!”

Garn was a rarity in Congress—he had actually done something in his life besides lawyering. In that, he should be cheered. He was a former navy pilot and brigadier general in the Utah Air Guard. When he reported to JSC for his eat/sleep/toilet training, he came across as easygoing and approachable. With his military aviation background he had no trouble fitting in. Nobody feared he would have a mental breakdown in space or do something dumb in the cockpit that might threaten a crew or the mission. He had a lot to recommend him to our ranks, except that he hadn’t paid the dues to get there—a lifetime of brutal work and fierce competition. Of course we treated him with respect, but our displeasure was evident in subtle rebellions. Before he arrived at JSC a sign-up sheet briefly appeared on the astronaut office bulletin board for people who wanted to take an eight-week course to become a senator. When his mission was delayed for several weeks, the office jokers spun this sarcastic entertainment:

Question from the press for Senator Garn: “Senator, how do you feel about your mission being delayed?”

Senator Garn: “I’m terribly disappointed since I’ve trained forhours for the flight.”

During his mission Garn suffered one of the more legendary cases of space sickness. There were whispers he was virtually incapacitated for several days. (A flight surgeon would later tell me they jokingly adopted the “Garn Unit” as a measure of quantifying nausea among astronauts.) But his illness pointed to another danger of flying non–mission essential passengers of any ilk aboard the shuttle: If they had a serious health problem, the mission might have to be terminated early. It could happen. While NASA’s prelaunch physicals were thorough, they could easily miss a ballooning aneurysm or a plaqued-up artery or a kidney stone. If a mission ended early due to a serious medical problem, it would mean the enormous risk the crew took to get in space, not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars of launch costs, would be for naught. Another crew might have to risk their lives to repeat the mission and NASA might have to burn another pile of money. While mission termination for health reasons was a possibility with any crewmember, it was anecessary risk for all mission-essential crewmembers. Not so with a passenger.