Riding Rockets

John Fabian, Goosecreek, TX, Major, USAF, age 38

Dale Gardner, Fairmont, MN, Lieutenant, USN, age 29

R. Michael Mullane, Wichita Falls, TX, Captain, USAF, age 32

Ellison Onizuka, Kealakekua, Kona, HI, Captain, USAF, age 31

Robert Stewart, Washington, D.C., Major, U.S. Army, age 35

Civilian Mission Specialist Astronauts

Anna Fisher, New York City, NY, age 28

Terry Hart, Pittsburgh, PA, age 31

Steven Hawley, Ottawa, KS, age 26

Jeffrey Hoffman, Brooklyn, NY, age 33

Shannon Lucid, Shanghai, China, age 35

Ronald McNair, Lake City, SC, age 27

George “Pinky” Nelson, Charles City, IA, age 27

Judith Resnik, Akron, OH, age 28

Sally Ride, Los Angeles, CA, age 26

Margaret “Rhea” Seddon, Murfreesboro, TN, age 30

Kathryn Sullivan, Paterson, NJ, age 26

Norman Thagard, Marianna, FL, age 34

James “Ox” van Hoften, Fresno, CA, age 33

Actually, I was standing with thirty-four other astronautcandidates. Our group, ultimately to be known as the TFNGs or Thirty-Five New Guys, became the first to have the suffixcandidate added to our astronaut titles. Until the TFNG handle stuck, we would be known as Ascans. (A later class would call themselves Ashos forAstronaut Hopefuls. ) NASA had learned the hard way that the titleastronaut by itself had some significant cachet. In one of the Apollo-era astronaut groups, a disillusioned scientist had quit the program before ever flying into space and had written a book critical of the agency. Since his official title had been astronaut, his publisher had been able to legitimately promote the book with the impressive astronaut byline. Now NASA was hedging its bets with our group. For two years we would be candidates on probation with the agency. If one of us decided to quit and go public with some grievance, NASA would be able to dismiss us as nothing more than a candidate, not a real astronaut. Personally, I felt the titling was an exercise in semantics. In my mind you weren’t an astronaut until you rode a rocket, regardless of what a NASA press release might say.

Dr. Chris Kraft, the JSC director, welcomed us. As a teenager I had seen his picture inLife magazine articles about the Apollo program. Now, he was welcoming me into the NASA family.Pinch me, I ordered my guardian angel.

A NASA public relations officer began to read each of our names and an audience of NASA employees applauded. There were fifteen pilot astronauts. I was one of twenty mission specialist (MS) astronauts. MSes would not be at the stick and throttle controls of the shuttle. In fact, most of us were not pilots. Our responsibilities would include operating the robot arm, performing experiments, and doing spacewalks. As the name implied, we would be the specialists for the orbit activities of the mission.

As the role call neared the “Ms,” my heart was trying to make like an alien and explode out of my chest. I still couldn’t believe this was for real. When he got to it, I expected the announcer to pause on my name, look bewildered, consult with Chris Kraft, and then say, “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s a mistake on this list. You can scratch R. Michael Mullane. He’s a typo. He couldn’t count backward by 7s.” Then, two burly security guards would grab me by the elbows and escort me to the main gate.

But the announcer read my name without hesitation. He didn’t stumble. He didn’t consult Dr. Kraft. He read it like I wassupposed to be on the list.It’s truly official now, I thought. I had to believe it. I was a new astronaut…candidate.

The diversity of America was represented on that stage. There was a mother of three (Shannon Lucid), two astronauts of the Jewish faith (Jeff Hoffman and Judy Resnik), and one Buddhist (El Onizuka). There were Catholics and Protestants, atheists and fundamentalists. Truth be known, there were probably gay astronauts among us. The group included three African Americans, one Asian American, and six females. Every press camera was focused on this rainbow coalition, particularly the females. I could have mooned the press corps and I would not have been noticed. The white TFNG males were invisible.

Another first was the political diversity of the group. Military pilots, the mainstay of prior astronaut selections, were almost always politically conservative. They were highly educated, self-reliant, critical thinkers who scorned the “everybody’s a victim” ethos of liberalism. But the reign of the right ended with the large number of civilian astronauts standing on that stage. Among their ranks were people who had probably protested the Vietnam War, who thought Ted Kennedy’s likeness should be on Mount Rushmore, who had marched for gay rights, abortion rights, civil rights, and animal rights. For the first time in history, the astronaut title was being bestowed on tree-huggers, dolphin-friendly fish eaters, vegetarians, and subscribers to theNew York Times.