On July
8, 2011, I was at the Kennedy Space Center covering the final Space Shuttle launch,
STS-135, for the Aero-News Network. By that time, president Obama’s
cancellation of all NASA human spaceflight, had been over-ridden by the
Congress and spaceflight engineers had begun to develop the Space Launch System,
or SLS, in spite of Obama’s poison pen effort. I’d seen that coming and as the
owner of a model rocket manufacturing company, Dr. Zooch Rockets, and thus designed
a concept version of the SLS. It was slated to go into sales in just a few
months. For that reason, I’d already constructed two prototypes and even test-flew
one. The second prototype I packed up and took with me to STS-135 for display at
my spot in the press building at KSC.
Considering
that STS-135 was end of the Shuttle program and the beginning of a “gap”
between U.S. astronauts being launched aboard U.S. rockets- the event drew
plenty of attention. In those days the press was always divided between the “hardcores”
who actually know spaceflight and the “meatpuppets” who are simply reporters that
some network assigned to cover the event. The meatpuppets normally just stand
in front of a camera and read from a piece of paper. Arriving at STS-135 I was
only in the press room long enough to say hello to some of the hardcores, plant
my model of the SLS at the spot I claimed as mine, and head out to have a look
around. Soon the meatpuppet storm began. In short order media from all over the
world were squeezing into the press room or setting up shop, some doing so in
assorted EZ-up tents outside. One of the hardcores looked around the room and
she quietly said,
“I wish
they’d all go away and just let us, who cover these things, cover it.”
Then she
pointed with her finger toward individuals standing nearby, as if she were able
to select people and said,
“You can
stay, you can stay, you can stay…”
She
pointed at me and paused for a second.
“Hey,” I
quipped, “I was at X-Prize with you… I have cred’.”
“Yeah,”
she smirked, “you can stay.”
Whew.
There was
a carnival atmosphere around the open ground beyond the press building. NASA
contractors large and small had set up display tents also large and small. One
of the largest belonged to Lockheed Martin which was contracted to build the
Orion spacecraft. I went in a chatted briefly about Orion with one of their
people. I mentioned my model rocket company, and he said that his son was just
getting into model rocketry.
“I have
something you may wanna see,” I said in the hope of perhaps gaining a new model
rocket customer.
Dashing
back to press building I fetched my SLS model and returned to the LockMart
tent. He looked at it,
“I have
someone who would be interested in this,” he said as he walked a short distance
away and tapped on the shoulder of a man in a gray business suit.
The two
of them returned and I handed the model SLS to the man. He examined it
carefully.
“This is
it!” he half whispered never taking his eyes off the model, “This is the SLS,
they’ve never given us a model of it.”
He asked
if he could borrow it for a while? He told me that he had several network TV
interviews to do and he’s like to use it.
“Sure!” I
replied gleefully.
With that
he and his group of minions left as he carefully carried the model.
"Who was
that?” I asked the guy from LockMart.
“That,”
he replied with a wide smile, “is John Karas, the Vice
President and General Manager of Human Space Flight for Lockheed Martin.”
Holy
shit.
It turned
out that STS-135 took place so close to the Obama rift that no one had yet
produced a model of the SLS… but me. So, Mr. Karas arrived at KSC nearly empty handed, but really wanting to talk about the SLS.
“Anyone
who makes Mr. Karas smile like that,” the fellow from LockMart said happily, “gets
some swag.”
I ended
up with a ball cap, some pens and a few trinkets to take home and give to my
kids. We stood there for a long time and talked model rockets, and I explained
that I’d started my company to keep busy while I raised my two daughters. Although
I’m a successful author, it was tough to write books when you cannot sit and
focus quietly for hours on end. Because as a parent, you never get to do that. After about 40 minutes Mr. Karas and his minions returned.
“Thank
you so much,” he said as he extended his arms to return to model to me, “I love
this rocket.”
“Well,” I
replied, now knowing who I was actually speaking to, “you can have it.”
“Really?”
he exclaimed.
“Yeah, it’s
one of two identical prototypes. I have another one just like it on my work
bench at home.”
Pulling
back the model he admired it again, took a deep breath, turned to his minions
and ordered, “Let’s get this man something!”
Suggestions
came popping up- a pass to a test firing- an invitation to a dinner event, and
on and on.
“Let’s
give him an Orion model!” someone shouted.
“That’s
it!” Mr. Karas ordered as he pointed to the minions, “Get him one of those
Orion models!”
Less than
a minute lapsed before one of the minions showed up carrying a square cardboard
box. Packed in custom foam rubber was one of the newest, museum quality, 2011
Orion models. I took it back to the press room and got the attention of the other hardcores.
“Guess
what I just got from John Karas?” I said as I held the box above my head.
“You dog!
You got a model!” several of them guessed before I opened the box and showed it
off.
Indeed. It
flew home with me, never out of my reach, destine for display in my office.
Today,
the flight version of the Orion is very different from my model. But I see it
in the same light of the early Apollo era photos where NASA people as shown
posed with a Lunar Module or Command Service Module that always looks nothing
like the final product. I pondered those models when I was a kid. Now those
models are worth thousands of dollars. Yet to me, this one not only connects me
with my childhood ponderings, but it reminds me of the day I made John Karas
very happy.
