How it Changed Us

I was at JPL on the morning of January 28, 1986. We were about to attend a press conference on the fabulous Voyager 2 mission’s findings at the planet Uranus. But, before that, we all (scientists and press) gathered to watch the launch of Challenger, mission 51L. We were in an auditorium with a big video projection showing us the launch pad and the countdown.

You all know the story. 70 seconds into the launch, at the words “Go for throttle up”, Challenger exploded, killing 7 astronauts and changing the way we viewed our space program forever.  It also changed the way we viewed shuttle launches. For years, I didn’t start to breathe again until after 70 seconds passed in each launch.

The picture to the left is one that was branded onto our brains. It was unbelievable.  In the auditorium, I stood transfixed, not believing what I saw. Next to me, one of the senior scientists on the Voyager mission broke down in tears. Another one fell to the floor, emotionally unable to even stand up. There was a muffled silence for a long time. People looking at the screen, then each other.  Finally, we started talking to each other about what we just saw. And then, the phones started ringing

Yes, we were at a press office. We had a hundred or so science writer there, and somehow, people got our phone numbers and started calling. Before most of us could pick up our phones, one of the press office people at JPL took the stage and recommended that the best thing we could tell the hordes of people calling US was “No comment”.

And, it was good advice. My phone rang constantly. Two calls were from my editors, but the rest were from reporters around the world, asking ME what I could tell them about the mishap.  I was nearly 3,000 miles away. I saw what they saw. I had no inside information. Hell, I had no way of even expressing words about it for a short time. It was just too sudden, too horrible.

Our whole country, in fact, around the world, people were shocked by this event. It was big. It was relentless. It scared the hell out of people. It also marked a turning point in many people’s feelings about space exploration. NASA was profoundly changed. Those of us who have followed space and astronomy for many years had the story of a lifetime, a difficult one to tell. It happened to people in a science we spent our lives following.

I remember getting a call from a guy at a newspaper in Illinois, who somehow got my number and wanted to know if I had any inside information about whether the CIA was involved. It was outlandish, but perfectly understandable to think something like that. Because, the alternative was to think that NASA made a mistake. Which, as it turned out later, was the truth.

Whenever I think of that day and the days afterward when we were all questioning what happened, I am reminded of something astronaut Gus Grissom said about the dangers of space exploration. “If we die we want people to accept it. We are in a risky business, and we hope that if anything happens to us, it will not delay the program. The conquest of space is worth the risk of life.”

Gus Grissom died in a launch pad accident in 1967, along with Ed White and Roger Chaffee. I think that if Gus had been there on Challenger’s last day, he would have said the same thing. And I think that the Challenger 7 would have been in agreement. They would not have changed their position and outlook on space exploration.

The world has changed a lot in those days. WE have changed. Sometimes I think we have become too afraid to embrace what spaceflight offers us. Something has to change because moving forward and upward is part of the spirit that has moved humans around this planet for millennia. The legacy of the Challenger 7, the Columbia crew, the Apollo 3 and others who died in space exploration tragedies for Russia (the Soviet Union) shouldn’t be wasted. We need to be looking up. And helping others to do the same.

That’s what will help the lost astronauts and cosmonauts rest in peace. And help propel humanity forward.