The Ad Astra Program:
Man's Job in Space
On March 9, 1955, a red-letter date in the history of space exploration, Walt Disney would air an episode of his television show Disneyland. Titled "Man in Space", the episode would mark the first of three such episodes that focused on topics ranging from simple rocketry to almost fantastical dreams of flying to the Moon or Mars, and even that most primal question...are we alone?
Central to these episodes was both the imagination and near unparalleled expertise of Wernher Von Braun. A German rocket scientist who immigrated to the United States following World War II, he had already enjoyed brief fame with the average American for the publishing of a series of articles by Colliers Magazine, which laid out Von Braun's visions and plans for spaceflight more comprehensively. This media presence would end up capturing the imagination of America and while Von Braun would still find it difficult to get the government on his side, despite the show of support he was receiving from the public, it would not be until that fateful day in October 1957, when the USSR would launch Sputnik, the world's first artificial satellite, that an opportunity would finally open for him.
And the rest is, as they say, history. A history indeed, that was not lost on Thomas Paine in the early days of 1969 in his year as NASA Administrator, as the Apollo program rapidly approached the deadline for fulfilling Kennedys challenge of landing a man on the Moon before the end of the decade, and still the program working through hurdle after hurdle to get it done.
But it was not merely the struggles of Apollo that weighed on his mind. As NASA administrator, as much as it was his job to ensure the ongoing success of Apollo and the recovery from the accident, it was also his job to ensure the future success of Americas space program and to secure its next great project after Apollo, which by July, even before Armstrong's crew had left the launchpad, was feeling the heavy and impending weight of budget cuts and cancellations. This so-called financial noose was in fact what colored the agency's vision for the future, for while they (and as historians might put it, Paine specifically) had grandiose visions of Moon Bases and Mars expeditions, they intended to bring these to fruition on a bed rock of cheap, routine spaceflight.
Beginning in 1965, research and development began for what would become known as the Integrated Program Plan (IPP). In these early years, most focus was on a "space shuttle", space stations in low Earth Orbit, and potential stations and basis centered on the Moon. However, when Thomas Paine was appointed as NASA administrator, in March of 1969, he had much a much more ambitious vision in mind. Spurred on by the successes of Apollo 8 and 9, and with the first landing imminent within the year, Paine had the idea that NASA would be rewarded for winning the race to the Moon.
As such, by May 1969, the IPP had had grown to include a buildup of space infrastructure stretching not merely from LEO to the Moon, but to Mars, to Venus, and even to the farthest reaches of the Solar System. With the Space Shuttle at the backbone of the program, space stations would be constructed not just in LEO, but in geosynchronous orbit, around the Moon and above Mars, and semi-annual flybys of Venus could all be achieved within the coming decade, but that would not be all. Concurrently, driven by the lowered costs of spaceflight the Shuttle would provide, large-scale nuclear-powered shuttles would be constructed as well, giving the efficient and powerful propulsion needed to launch interplanetary probes, establish the Moon Base, and, as the crowning achievement, a manned Mars Landing by 1981, and the first city by 2000. With illustrations from the Marshal Spaceflight Center, the plan would pave the way for America, and truly, humanity as a whole, for years to come.
This, in hindsight almost childish plan for NASA's future would be presented to the Space Task Group (STG), established by President Nixon to oversee NASA's follow on to Apollo, presented by an equally enthusiastic Wernher Von Braun. Von Braun initially was rather skeptical (or as his biography would note, more very cynical) of the idea, as he was already seeing his political weight diminished, and with the Saturn V unlikely to ever be built again, he did not believe that the government would be willing to commit to even a modest proposal, much less one as ambitious as what Pained championed.
However, Paine was not one to merely let it go. In a series of meetings, phone calls, and late-night arguments circling a proverbial drain of mathematics and economic discussions, Paine and Von Braun would eventually come to not only a mutual understanding, but a vision they could both stand behind. Together, they tailored the IPP as it stood into a more presentable state. Gone were the superfluous Venus fly-bys and extraneous space stations in every orbit imaginable, and the focus of the plan instead came to be on the economics first, and the glory second. With the reusability of the Space Shuttle at the fore front, the IPP would go on to establish four key phases.
First would be to get the Shuttle up and running, as it would still form the backbone of the program, using the Saturn rockets as a basis to speed its development. From there, phase 2 would be the first American space station to fly and the first nuclear shuttle would be constructed there, which would be a point from which the program would begin to accelerate as the infrastructure became established. Next would be a return to the Moon (their reasoning being that it was unlikely Apollo would be able to continue concurrently even if the hardware was still in service)and the eventual establishment of a Moon Base. And finally, with sufficient experience with the Moon base established, a Mars project could begin utilizing assets that would be sourced and constructed in space.
And as a final touch of flare, they opted to give the overall plan a more public relations friendly name, something they could tie in as a true successor to Apollo. As such, the newly christened Ad Astra program was born.
While considerably more reasonable, and with substantial economic justification (as each phase could see a substantive reduction in total spending compared to Apollo, and would only need relatively minor increases as each phase begins), it would still unfortunately lead to the pair's disappointment. While the STG was impressed by the presentation and its considerations for funding, many in the group and the greater administration (namely, Nixon himself) did not believe that they were being sincere, and instead took the plan as a way for Von Braun to recover from his fading limelight, and for Paine to establish himself him Washington. As a result, Nixon would opt to create their own version of the program, with the Nuclear shuttle, Moon base, and Mars project completely nixed, and the proposed space station left as a possible follow up to the Space Shuttle, which would become the programs sole focus. This would eventually morph into the STS Program as we know it today.
Left disappointed, Paine was at a total loss, but Von Braun, having become more invested in the program as time went on, had an idea.
While Walt Disney had unfortunately passed away some years prior, Von Braun had developed a close relationship with the producers of Disneyland, and with Walt's brother Roy in particular. Contacting him in late May, Von Braun would successfully lobby Disney to help him and Paine sell Ad Astra to the public, and for Von Braun, much of the month of June was spent at the same production studios where he worked with Walt and the others all those years ago, producing models and presentations. Paine himself would be too busy at NASA to help much with preparations, but he would be present in late June to film his own role as the final presenter, making his (unknown to him at the time) fatal plea for his project.
The program, entitled Man's Job in Space, would air to the public on on July 28th, 1969, days after the return of Apollo 11. The nearly 4 hour long special would be aired in 4 parts throughout the week, and edited versions would be distributed to movie theaters as pre-movie shorts and in some places as a marathon of the entire program. The first two parts would focus on the hardware and actual plan itself, with nearly the entire first episode dedicated to the Space Shuttle. The latter half would end up focusing on the individual impacts Ad Astra would have on the daily lives of Americans, its principle message was that America's, and truly humanity's, next step would not merely be glorified camping trips, but the establishment of outer space as a place for people to work, to build great things, to live and love, and to raise future generations as a multi-planetary species. But more than the lofty rhetoric that colored the program, so too did it delve into the same economic arguments that convinced Von Braun, showing how the legacy of the many billions spent on Apollo could be leveraged to cheapen access to space and how eventually it would become self-sustaining where not only would Earth no longer have to commit its resources, but it would start receiving resources back in return.
The program was received with widespread affection across America, and many critics applauded that it was able to synthesize cold reality with the warm dreams of the future, but its most critical moment was Thomas Paine's sole speaking part as the concluding speaker at the end of the last special, filmed the same night that man first walked on the Moon.
"Hello America. My name is Thomas Paine, and I am the administrator at NASA, its leader if you will. These past four nights, Dr. Von Braun has lead us down a road to our future, and has explained in the best detail what we at NASA hope to accomplish in this latter half of the 20th century.
To close out our broadcast, I wanted to speak to you directly on two matters. First, why the name "Ad Astra"?
Translated from Latin, it means "to the stars". We felt that, as a follow on to Apollo, we could think of no greater phrase, for while a single step by a man was all that was needed to bring us to this moment, to go forward we must all of us together, make this next giant leap to the stars.
Not merely to walk amongst these planets and moons we named after great gods of old, but to count them as our home.
But, before this can happen, we must first face the cold reality. Of politics, economics, our national spirit. So, America, I implore you - reach out to your Congressmen, your Senators and Governors, to our nations highest office. We can do this, and to allow ourselves to be held back and beaten down, is a loss we cannot accept and must be unwilling to entertain.
For we must also remember: we are not the only ones who want to go.
Thank you; Good night, and God Bless you America."
While at the tail end if the final, hour long broadcast, for those that watched it it represented a wake up call and a call to action. But as it was, not many ended up watching. While the broadcasts were well received, by the end of the week most had tuned out, leaving only the proverbial choir to listen. And even news outlets reporting on Paine's plea would not help, and in many ways would hurt him.
President Nixon, already suspicious of Paine and Von Braun's motivations, found the broadcasts to be a direct attack on his administration. Citing concerns over a dereliction of duties, Nixon would ask for Paine's resignation, who, finally defeated, acquiesced. Von Braun meanwhile, would resign from his post a few years later, having long since become disillusioned with the direction of the space program.
While Paine's plea fell effectively on deaf ears in America and doomed his program (as he envisioned it) to never see the light of day, across the Pacific, he did manage to capture a very attentive audience with the USSR, and a trio of chief designers poised to change the course of Soviet space ambitions.
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