Charles Watkinson, former director of Purdue University Press, launched this project. Charles took a chance on a first-time author, ably pointing me in the right direction until his departure to greener pastures (the University of Michigan Press) in 2014. Charles embodies the “gentleman and scholar” ideal.
Charles’s successor, Peter Froehlich, has been equally encouraging since taking the reins at Purdue University Press in 2015. Peter and his able staff saw this project through to completion. Special thanks go to editor Katherine Purple, who repeatedly saved me from myself. Editors do the unglamorous work of untangling prose and helping authors tell their stories in ways that are accessible to a broad audience. Beloved American classics such as To Kill a Mockingbird, we have recently discovered, would have been far less appreciated without the steady hand of a wise book editor.
As this project took shape, I was struck by a deep and abiding affection for Gus Grissom. He connected on a visceral level with average Americans in a way the other astronauts, placed as they were on pedestals, could not. Gus was the everyman. Americans rooted for him. Among the reasons were his humble beginnings along with his determination and willingness to size up situations and take risks. Gus’s youngest brother, Lowell, gives greater meaning to the phrase “brotherly love.” Lowell has kept the memory of his big brother alive through the decades. He was gracious with his time and straightforward in discussing the meaning of his brother’s life and deeds. Gus would be proud of his kid brother.
Few researchers know more about the career of Virgil Grissom than Rick Boos. As a student in the 1960s, Rick corresponded with the astronaut in the heyday of American spaceflight. Those letters from Grissom had a profound effect on Rick, who made it his life’s work to document the astronaut’s contributions and correct the misconceptions about his career. Rick willingly shared his years of research, particularly the controversial ending of Grissom’s Mercury spaceflight and profound tragedy that killed the crew of Apollo 1. Rick and I talked for hours; I have done my level best to accurately convey the results of his extensive research. I am in Rick’s debt.
To the present day, we continue to ponder the watershed events of the 1960s, especially the remarkable early days of human spaceflight. The families of the men who challenged the vacuum of space also were key actors in mankind’s greatest adventure. Kris Stoever, the erudite daughter of Malcolm Scott Carpenter and coauthor of her father’s memoir, For Spacious Skies, was a treasure trove of institutional memory about the American space program and its toll on the astronauts’ families. While many of us watched it unfold on television, Kris was on the other side of the camera, caught in the unsparing glare of astronaut celebrity. She saw and recorded it all, passing along my queries to her ailing mother, Rene Price Carpenter. Kris’s guidance was indispensable.
Those who crossed paths with Gus Grissom at Purdue, the Air Force, and NASA, folks with a sense of history and Gus’s place in it, graciously provided reminisces, anecdotes, and photos tucked away in dusty albums. I thank them all.
The human beings who journeyed to another world and walked on the moon are like no other creatures on Earth. These men possess an utterly unique perspective on our place in the universe. Several helped with this project, honoring the memory of their fallen comrade Gus Grissom. Thanks especially to Alan Bean, who gave up precious time at the easel painting his memories of walking on the lunar surface to talk about Grissom. Thanks also to Walt Cunningham, Tom Stafford, and Al Worden. John Young’s 2012 memoir was indispensable in my research.
The staff of the NASA History Office in Washington, DC, also provided yeoman service. John Norberg supplied invaluable guidance and helped me avoid gimbal lock. The documentary filmmaker David Sington provided inspiration.
Ellen Seefelt, my wife and companion of thirty-five years, has endured the writer’s life since we decamped from the Midwest a week after our honeymoon to New York City. There, she supported me while I studied journalism. Over the intervening years, Ellen prodded me to come up with a book idea that would synthesize a lifelong interest in space exploration. It turned out to be the life of Gus Grissom. As we walked the dog each day, she listened to my latest travails and was unfailing in her encouragement. Without her love, support, and understanding, this project would never have left the ground.