Transcript
Lindsey Graham (0:00)
There are more ways than ever to listen to History Daily ad free.
Unknown (0:04)
Listen with Wondry plus in the Wondery.
Lindsey Graham (0:05)
App as a member of Noiser plus at noiser.com or in Apple Podcasts. Or you can get all of History Daily plus other fantastic history podcasts@intohristory.com There are a few days in everyone's lifetime in which you know you'll always remember where you were. For my parents, two of those would be JFK's assassination and the moon landing. For my daughter, maybe it'll be the day when artificial intelligence demonstrates sentience or extraterrestrial life is discovered under the ice of Jupiter's moon Europa. For me, it was 911 and the Challenger disaster. I remember each moment vividly, maybe because in each event some sort of innocence was lost, but also maybe some sort of hubris was laid bare too. No one deserved what happened in those Twin Towers or the space shuttle, but were they preventable? In the case of the Challenger, the answer is probably yes. And on today's Saturday matinee, we're bringing you an episode from my podcast, American Scandal. The Challenger disaster is a scandal because so many saw the evidence of peril, tried hard to bring it to light, but were stymied by the myopia of bureaucracy. I hope you enjoy and while you're listening, be sure to search for and follow American Scandal. We put a link in the show notes to make it easy for you.
Unknown (1:37)
History Daily is sponsored by Audible, whose best of 2024 picks are here. Discover the year's top audiobooks and originals in all your favorite genres, from memoirs and sci fi to mysteries and thrillers. Audible's curated list in every category is the best way to hear 2024's best in audio entertainment, like a stunning new full cast production of George Orwell's 1984 heartfelt memoirs like Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson's lovely one, the year's best fiction, like the Women by Kristin Hannah and Percival Everett's brilliantly subversive title James, or a personal pick of mine, Malcolm Gladwell's latest audiobook, Revenge of the Tipping Point. Find a new favorite and get listening with Audible because there's more to imagine when you listen. Go to audible.com historydaily and discover all the years best waiting for you.
Lindsey Graham (2:26)
Hey prime members, have you heard you can listen to your favorite podcasts ad free? That's good news. With Amazon Music, you have access to the largest catalog of ad free top podcasts included with your prime membership. To start listening, download the Amazon music app for free or go to Amazon.com ADFreePodcasts that's Amazon.com ADFreeP Podcasts to catch up on the latest episodes without the ads. A listener Note this episode contains graphic audio and may not be suitable for all audiences. It's January 28, 1986, at NASA's Kennedy Space center at Cape Canaveral, Florida. June Scobee is standing on the roof of the Launch Control center building with her two adult children by her side. They're here to watch the launch of the space shuttle Challenger. And today is a special occasion for them because June's husband, Dick, is the commander of the mission. Watching her husband fly is nothing new for June. During their 26 years of marriage, Dick has served as a combat pilot, test pilot, astronaut, and today will be his second launch on the Challenger. And it's certainly the coldest. So cold, in fact, that the launch has already been delayed by several hours to clear icicles from the shuttle. Looking around at the family members of the other six Challenger astronauts all huddled together on the roof, June can see a familiar mix of excitement and trepidation on their faces. Over the years, June has learned to accept the danger inherent in Dick's line of work. But still, watching her husband get launched into space by rockets is a uniquely nerve wracking experience. So she's relieved to know that her husband has decided to make this his final mission. The couple recently became grandparents, and she's looking forward to a more peaceful life together. But it's also bittersweet to know that her family's adventures with NASA are coming to a close. So she puts aside her jitters and tries to savor the thrill of seeing one more launch. June wraps her arm around the waist of her son Rich, who is a pilot himself in the Air Force Academy. Just think, Rich, that could be you flying the shuttle someday. That's a decade away, Mom. It's not an easy job to get either. Well, maybe that's for the best. It'll be nice to have all the Scoby men here on Earth for a while. Your father isn't even in space and already I can't wait to have him back. At least we've been blessed with a sunny day. Perfect for launch. Well, the sun is great, but it's awful windy. This must be the coldest day ever for a launch. I'm surprised they're even attempting it. Okay, here we go. June sees a massive burst of white smoke billow from underneath the shuttle as the engines ignite. The sight is electrifying 3, 2, 1. And liftoff. Liftoff of the 25th space shuttle mission. And it is. The roof trembles and the crowd cheers as Challenger slowly rises into the air. The shuttle gains speed and within a minute, it's 30,000ft in the air. June smiles and waves to her husband as the craft rolls to head east over the Atlantic. But then suddenly, a large white light flashes on the distant shuttle. It's unclear what happened, but June can see that there are now two separate trails of smoke in the sky, moving apart in the shape of a letter. The cheers of the crowd give way to a quiet murmur, and the families of the other astronauts make their way over to June. They know she's witnessed launches before, and they want to know if what they're seeing is normal. But June has no answers. She suggests that maybe the flash came from one of the shuttle's rocket boosters as it became detached. But a moment later, the voice on the loudspeaker returns, informing the crowd that there's been a major malfunction. June is stunned into silence. Her children collapse into her arms, and all around her, the families of the astronauts begin to gasp and cry. But June's eyes remain fixed on the sky. She knows that the lives of the astronauts on board are in jeopardy, but she refuses to believe that her husband and his crew are gone. She tells herself they're okay, that they're trained for emergencies like this. She repeats these words out loud, willing them to be true. But somewhere in her heart, June knows that she and the other family members around her are never going to see their loved ones again. From wondering. I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American scandal. When the space shuttle Challenger exploded in January 1986, it wasn't only seen by the people in Cape Canaveral. That morning, millions of people were watching live across the country, including scores of school children who had turned in to see Christa McAuliffe become the first teacher and civilian in space. It had been nearly 20 years since NASA had lost an astronaut during a launch, and stunned viewers were left wondering how a tragedy like this could have happened. In the months long investigation that followed, the public was shocked to learn that the disaster was preventable. Executives at both NASA and the company that manufactured the shuttle's rocket boosters, Morton Thiokol, were aware that problems with the boosters could lead to catastrophic failure. Still, they decided to push ahead with the launch, and the culture of institutional hubris that led to this decision stretched back decades. In the years since the first moon landing, the US Government's ambitions for the space program had changed. They pushed NASA to make flights cheaper, more frequent, and capable of carrying large payloads into orbit, including spy satellites and other military equipment. These pressures led NASA to abandon the modest sized capsules that carried astronauts to the moon on the Apollo missions. And in their place, NASA developed a fleet of space shuttles, Massive space planes capable of making regular trips into orbit and landing back on Earth on a Runway so they could be reused again and again, much like a commercial aircraft. But in order to meet the program's increasing demands, compromises were made in the shuttle's design and construction, making launches considerably more dangerous. And in 1986, the seven astronauts aboard the Challenger paid the ultimate price for those decisions. This is episode one. Bigger, faster, cheaper. It's December 14th, 1972, 14 years before the Challenger explosion. Astronaut Gene Cernan is driving a vehicle called the Lunar rover across the surface of the moon. Cernan is commander of the Apollo 17 mission and the 11th man to set foot on the moon. For the last three days, he's been sitting behind the wheel of this space age dune buggy, surveying the lunar surface and collecting rock samples. Slowly rolling to a stop, Cernan parks the rover. And through the visor of his spacesuit, he takes a moment to enjoy the incredible view. The low slung silver colored mountains framed by the backdrop of endless black space. Getting to be here and experience all of this has been the greatest privilege of Cernan's life. But now it's time to head home. So today's tasks will be the last that Cernan, or perhaps any American will perform on the moon. At least for the foreseeable future. Back on Earth, the excitement people felt when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin first walked on the moon three years ago has given way to apathy and even resentment. The American public and their elected representatives have grown increasingly concerned about the Apollo program's enormous costs. And they're eager to redirect that money toward more pressing issues. As a result, NASA was recently forced to cancel all of its remaining lunar missions. It's a development that's left Cernan heartbroken. So as he exits the rover to perform his final tasks, bouncing around to the back of the vehicle in the moon's low gravity, his heart feels heavy even as his steps feel light. Cernan works to position the rover's video camera, pointing it in the direction of the lunar module, that craft that will carry him back to the command module for the ride back to Earth. He prepares the camera to record the module leaving the moon's surface for the last time. And then beam the video back to Earth. As he aims the camera, Cernan watches his colleague, mission pilot Harrison Schmitt, ascend the ladder into the lunar module. But before he joins Schmidt, Cernan takes the chance to perform one final, more personal act. He drops to one knee and uses the stubby index finger of his glove to carve the letters TDC into the dust. His daughter's initials. With no atmosphere, weather, or wind on the moon, Cernan knows these initials will last decades into the future, waiting patiently for the next moonwalker to find them. But he wonders just how many decades that will be. When the Apollo 17 astronauts returned to Earth. The American space program is at a crossroads. For the first decade of its existence, NASA had enjoyed nearly unlimited federal funding. At its peak, the Apollo program employed 400,000 people and had an annual budget of nearly $30 billion. But that support began to waver soon after Richard Nixon was elected president in 1968. It was no secret that Nixon was bent on undercutting all of John F. Kennedy's most beloved program programs, including the space program, even at the height of its popularity in 1969. So the engineers at NASA began working on a plan to keep space exploration alive. The idea was to curb the cost of manned space travel by making the process more routine and easily repeatable. To this end, they began developing a new type of spacecraft that could be flown over and over again just like a commercial airplane. And to help finance this new space shuttle, NASA turned to private companies and the US Military. They successfully brokered contracts that would fund the future of space exploration in exchange for hauling commercial communications satellites and heavy military equipment into orbit, including spy satellites and eventually space based weapons and defense systems. But NASA quickly realized that these new partnerships came at a cost. To accommodate its commercial and military cargo, the space shuttle needed to be much larger and heavier than any craft NASA had built before. And that meant the rockets that carried the shuttle into orbit would also need to be more powerful and run on a different kind of fuel. Against the strong objections of the shuttle's original designers, NASA transitioned from liquid rocket fuel to the more powerful and dangerous solid fuel. Once this solid fuel was ignited, there was no way to stop it from burning in case something went wrong. It was considered so risky that the rival Soviet space program refused to use it. And to further reduce the weight and cost of the new shuttle, NASA also removed safety equipment from their early designs, including a rocket powered escape system. Finally, in 1975, after these and many other compromises. NASA receives approval for the construction of its first space shuttle. But now they face a new issue over the question of who will fly it. For years, NASA has fielded complaints about the lack of diversity among its astronauts, nearly all of whom have been white male military pilots. But now that the space shuttles are more spacious and capable of accommodating larger crews with more varied science and engineering backgrounds, NASA decides it's time to make some changes. So they launch a new astronaut recruiting effort, hoping to field the largest, most diverse class in the agency's history. And when she hears about it, 27 year old Judy Resnik is eager to apply. Resnick has been an overachiever all her life. She was a math prodigy and one of only three female electrical engineering majors at Carnegie Mellon University, where she graduated at the top of her class. But in the summer of 1977, Resnik finds herself looking for a new direction in life. She's finishing her PhD in electrical engineering and recently divorced. So when an old friend tells her about NASA's new recruiting effort looking specifically for women, Resnik jumps at the chance. She travels to the Johnson Space center in Houston, Texas, where NASA puts her through a rigorous testing process. They measure her mental and physical abilities and gauge her responses to stress. Resnick feels confident she did well. But after two months without hearing anything, Resnick decides she has to stop fantasizing about becoming an astronaut and focus on real life. So when the phone starts ringing in her Southern California apartment on the morning of January 16, 1978, she decides to ignore it. It's 6am and she's preparing to leave for her new job at Xerox. Anyone calling at this hour is probably either a telemarketer or. Or her family back east who always seem to forget she's three time zones behind. Resnik stuffs a work binder into her briefcase and heads to the front door. But when the phone keeps ringing, she hesitates. There could be some sort of family emergency. So she reaches into the kitchen and grabs the phone off the wall. The voice on the other end is one she recognizes. It's George Abbey, NASA's director of flight Operations. He's the man responsible for recruiting and selecting the new class of astronauts. Resnik's heart skips a beat. What Abby says next could either change her life forever or leave her feeling crushed. It seems like Abby might know this, because he gets right to the point. He congratulates Resnik on being selected to the newest class of astronauts. And Resnik is overwhelmed. She manages to Mutter a simple thank you. As her eyes begin to well up, Abby reminds her that she now has a shot at being the first American woman in space. Resnik replies that she doesn't care much about that. She just wants to do her job and be part of the team. But after Resnik hangs up, Abby's words run through her mind. First American woman in space does have a nice ring to it. The same day Judy Resnick gets that phone call, NASA announces to the public its largest and most diverse class of new astronauts, totaling 35 new recruits. In the group are six women, as well as Japanese American engineer Ellison Onizuka and African American physicist Ron McNair. Over the next several weeks, these new recruits are inundated with requests for interviews from reporters. And for Resnik, it feels like something out of a movie. She still can't believe she's going to be an astronaut. But once she travels to Johnson Space center in Houston to begin orientation, it finally starts to feel real. In an office, surrounded by dozens of her fellow recruits, Reznik gets fitted for her first flight suit and helmet. Throughout the process, Reznik is giddy with excitement, but outwardly, she tries to maintain a steely expression. She's well aware that as one of the first women in the program, all eyes will be on her, and she's determined to show she's just as tough and prepared as the men. As the fitting wraps up, the recruits are divided into smaller groups to be given tours of the space center, led by a veteran astronaut. One of the first stops is the mission control room. As Resnick steps inside, she marvels at the room packed with computers, monitors and all sorts of cutting edge technology. Her fellow recruit, Ron McNair, looks even more blown away. God, Judy, can you believe all this? I mean, I've seen it on tv, but there's nothing like really being here. I'm half tempted to just start. Start hitting buttons and see what happens. Well, don't press any big red ones, but yeah, I know what you mean. When I was an engineer at rca, we did some work on the software that runs their rocket and telemetry systems. Getting to see it in action is pretty cool. The tour leader hands headsets to Reznik, McNair and the other recruits, explaining that they're going to listen in to a recording of the final moments of Apollo 1 back in 1967. Resnick shudders because she knows all about Apollo 1. Three astronauts were killed by a fire that broke out inside their capsule on the launch pad. It was the darkest day in NASA's history. Resnick grits her teeth as a technician rolls the tape. Confirm it. Mad Leader. Get in there and help him. As the tape ends, Resnick removes her headset and tries to shield her eyes. When she looks up again, McNair is giving her a look of concern. Hey, you okay? I'm fine. No need to worry about me. Can't believe they made us listen to that. No, I. I think it was good to hear. I mean, we need to know the risks, right? I mean, really know them. If we can't accept them, we shouldn't be here. Man, they didn't even get off the launch pad. Well, NASA's come a long way since then. Things are much safer now. So let's just focus on our jobs and we'll all be fine. Resnik walks ahead of McNair, joining the Tour group as they head out of Mission Control. She looks straight ahead and keeps her chin held high, but as she enters the hallway, she can feel a tear sneaking down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away before any of her colleagues noticed, and Resnik makes sure to maintain a resolute exterior through the rest of the tour. But as the sounds of the astronauts final screams play again in her head, she's forced to admit that while she's excited about becoming an astronaut, she's also scared.
