"Live From Cape Canaveral": Covering the Space Race, From Sputnik to Today by Jay Barbree Page B

Everything was working perfectly, and for ten thousand feet he rode downward before separating from the ejection seat and deploying his main parachute. He opened his helmet’s faceplate as he drifted through puffy white clouds and took deep breaths of the fresh spring air. What a marvelous ride!
    On the ground, two startled peasants and their cow watched the white-helmeted man drift from the heavens. Gagarin hit the ground running. He tumbled and rolled over, jumping to his feet to gather his parachute. The first man in space unhooked his harness and looked up to see a woman and a girl staring at him. The cow decided to keep grazing.
    “Have you come from outer space?” asked the astonished woman.
    “Yes, yes, would you believe it?” the first cosmonaut answered with a wide grin.
    Within months, Yuri Gagarin shared his memories of his historic flight with my colleague Martin Caidin when Caidin was writing cosmonaut Gherman Titov’s book. Titov was Gagarin’s backup, and he orbited Earth a full day. He named his book I Am Eagle .
    The ringing phone was not welcome. Especially at 3:42 A.M .
    I reached for the noisy necessity. “What?” I barked.
    The voice at the other end was soft, polite. “Jay, this is Jerry Jacobs on the desk.”
    “Uh-huh, sorry, Jerry.”
    “Have you heard?”
    “Heard what?”
    “The Russians have put a man in orbit.”
    “You’re kidding.” I sat straight up, rubbing my eyes. “How many orbits?”
    “One,” Jacobs said. “Get on it.”
    “I’m moving, boss.”
    I replaced the phone in its cradle, patted a disturbed young bride of seven months on her derriere, and leapt out of bed. I had only one thought: NASA could have had Alan Shepard up there three weeks ago.
    I hit the on button on the radio. Jo groaned and pulled the covers over her head as excited voices spoke of Yuri Gagarin, of Earth orbit. I splashed water on my face, shaved, quickly brushed my teeth, and while putting most of my clothes on I went out the door. Following the six-minute drive, I was in the office.
    I phoned Colonel John “Shorty” Powers, the spokesman for the Mercury Seven. I wanted to know if the astronauts had a statement, and if NASA had scheduled a news conference.
    “Morning, Shorty,” I said in my most pleasant voice. “Sorry about the hour.”
    He definitely wasn’t a morning person.
    “Morning, my ass,” he growled. “Whatta you want?”
    “The reaction? NASA’s reaction to the Russians orbiting a cosmonaut?”
    “Fuck you, Barbree, we’re asleep here,” he yelled, slamming the phone in my ear.
    I laughed and went on the NBC Radio Network with the following:
    Overnight the Russians put a man into space, and Colonel John Powers, the spokesman for the Mercury Seven Astronauts, tells me “NASA’s asleep.” The space agency will wait to hear about man’s first flight into Earth orbit over eggs and bacon.
    Colonel Powers’s “NASA’s asleep” remark made the same headline in some of the morning papers.
    But more important, it got action, and NASA powers were all over Colonel Powers. “We need a clear-cut statement by the Mercury Seven for the press.”
    Colonel Powers jumped out of bed, and the space agency was talking. The astronauts were allowing they were disappointed, but made certain to offer sincere congratulations to their fellow cosmonauts for a terrific technical feat. And once again John Glenn galloped to NASA’s rescue on his white steed. The seeds of a politician were already sprouting in John. He was honest to a fault, and he knew precisely what to do: be blunt and truthful.
    “They just beat the pants off us, that’s all,” he told the flock of reporters. “There’s no use kidding ourselves about that. But now that the space age has begun, there’s going to be plenty of work for everybody.”
     
    T he question of who was the first human in space would never mean that much. Not really. When Yuri Gagarin went into orbit, the guesswork vanished. But would