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Christa McAuliffe, Dick Scobee, Elison Onizuka, Greg Jarvis, Judy Resnik, Mike Smith, NASA, Ron McNair, Space Shuttle Challenger
I wrote this three years ago on my previous blogsite at Blogger. I’m reposting it in observance of the day 25 years ago when we lost the Space Shuttle Challenger and all seven astronaut crew members on board.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
“OBVIOUSLY A MAJOR MALFUNCTION”
In the din and dynamics of campaign literature hitting our mailboxes and candidate calls ringing our phones on this night before the BIG FLORIDA PRIMARY, I’m taking a moment or two to reflect on something else remarkable about Monday.
It was seventy-three seconds after lift-off, on January 28, 1986, the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded, killing its entire seven member crew, which included a high school teacher, the first private citizen to fly aboard the craft.
I was working with NASA as a public information officer attached to the press site at Kennedy Space Center. My job that morning — deliver pre-launch commentary at the communication console inside Launch Control at the Cape.
I began my shift at the microphone at about the time the tanking operations got underway. Millions of pounds of pressurized hypergolic fuels were being pumped into the behemoth at Launch Pad 39-B as the seven astronauts breakfasted before suiting up for the big event. I would continue the launch commentary until the astronauts arrived at the launch pad. Mission control in Houston would pick up the commentary once the shuttle cleared the tower at lift off.
It was cold in the pre-dawn hours. It was still dark when I left my home bundled in a winter coat. I could see my breath — unusual for Florida.
When I arrived at the LCC (Launch Control Center), NASA Public Affairs news chief Hugh Harris was already seated at the communications console, headset on. I slid into the chair beside him and opened my 3-ring binder containing the launch sequence that I would be talking to.
“No anomalies” he advised me in NASA-speak, meaning everything was proceeding normally. I took over the mic, offering comments as the launch team hit significant milestones in the countdown sequence. And so it went as the clock ticked forward toward an 11:38 a.m. liftoff.
The suited-up astronauts began to leave their crew quarters in the Operations and Checkout “O and C” building, about three miles away. NASA and media video cameras were trained at the exit way where they would do the “walk-out”, waving at the cameras and an assemblage of cheering workers as they made their way into the silver Airstream “Astrovan” for the ride to the launch pad.
As they approached the tv cameras, I keyed the mic. Here’s my voice describing the astronauts’ walkout:
Little did I know those words would be heard thousands of times in the aftermath of the shuttle explosion, as TV news programs replayed the last moments we saw the Challenger Seven alive.
There was concern among the Launch Control team about the cold temperatures at the launch pad. A team was sent to break up the ice build-up under the shuttle. An infrared camera focused on the aft field joint of the right Solid Rocket Booster revealed the temperature at only 8°F. Discussion centered on concerns continued throughout the morning outside of our comm loop. Ultimately, the fateful decision was made to proceed, and the clock ran steadily for launch.
Finally, we hit the T-minus ten second mark. “Ten…nine…eight…seven…six… we have main engine start”. The excitement was palpable. “Four, three…two…one…and lift-off! Lift-off of the 25th Space Shuttle mission and it has cleared the tower!”
I swiveled around to the glass wall behind me and watched Challenger rise from the pad. As she climbed, a gorgeous billowy white column rose underneath her, twin rockets and main engines brilliantly glowing like blinding sunlight against a cold and cloudless blue sky.
At 68 seconds, the CAPCOM told the crew they were “Go at throttle up”. Commander Dick Scobee confirmed the call. “Roger, go at throttle up.” It was the last communication we would hear from Challenger.
About 73 seconds into the climb, at 48,000 feet over the steely blue Atlantic, Challenger broke apart. The gorgeous contrail split into a Y shape, my first clue that something had gone awry.
As quickly, I saw a single rocket spiral outward, unattached from the mother ship. Fireworks-like smoke and streamers burst forth from the center, tendrils turning a sickly orange color as gravity pulled them earthward. We were witnessing a catastrophe.
I don’t think I breathed. I knew what we were watching was the awful death of seven of our own. The room went silent, except for a few systems managers trying to make sense of their frozen computer screens. Data flow from the shuttle had ceased.
“Flight controllers here looking very carefully at the situation,” reported public affairs officer Steve Nesbitt in Houston. “Obviously a major malfunction. We have no downlink.” After a pause, Nesbitt said, “We have a report from the Flight Dynamics Officer that the vehicle has exploded.”
Contingency procedures were ordered into effect at Launch and Mission Control centers, including locking the doors, shutting down telephone communications with the outside world, and following checklists that ensured that the relevant data were correctly recorded and preserved. All materials including my three-ring binder and my purse were embargoed. Nothing would be carried out until thoroughly examined.
Hugh Harris stepped away to consult with NASA’s Public Affairs director. My console headset crackled. Keying the closed loop button, I answered the call. It was the White House. “The President would like to speak to the nation,” said the voice at the other end. “We’d like some assistance in crafting a statement.”

Pres. Reagan and staff watch TV coverage of Space Shuttle Challenger seach and recovery activity off Florida's coast.
The President and his staff reacted to the news as they watched it on a television in the Oval Office Dining room. In this room, the president may have casual meals alone or with staff and catch the news on television or discuss White House policy. Because this room is usually furnished with a small television, it is often here that the president first sees news events being reported from around the world.
A short time later, President Ronald Reagan appeared on TV monitors worldwide, offering words of condolence and comfort.
In his address to the nation, President Ronald Reagan stated:
“Today is a day for mourning…a national loss…The members of the Challenger crew were pioneers…
The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave. The Challenger crew was pulling us into the future…
“There’s a coincidence today. On this day 390 years ago, the great explorer Sir Francis Drake died aboard ship off the coast of Panama. In his lifetime the great frontiers were the oceans, and a historian later said,
‘He lived by the sea, died on it, and was buried in it.’
“Well, today we can say of the Challenger crew: Their dedication was, like Drake’s, complete.”
The days and weeks following the accident went by in a blur of media frenzy and ocean salvage operations. Eventually, I was asked to work with the president’s appointed Rogers Commission, tasked with investigating the accident. My job was to document the entire investigation and author a narrative of it, which was subsequently published in a book titled “The Historical Summary of the 51-L Data and Design Analysis Task Force.”
In the immortal words of President Ronald Reagan:
“The crew of the space shuttle Challenger honored us by the manner in which they lived their lives. We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved good-bye and ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ to ‘touch the face of God.’”
To view another excellent video of that day, click here.*****
Posted by Andrea Shea King at 1/29/2008 01:20:00 AM
9 comments:
- Anonymous said…
- WOW
- 7:10 AM, January 29, 2008
- David Kyle said…
- Andrea, You certainly have had your share of difficult times. I know you made a difference.
Dave Kyle
- 4:52 PM, January 29, 2008
- Exurban Jon said…
- That morning, I was 50 miles away in a Navy classroom in Orlando. I had seen the last launch up close and was bummed I couldn’t go to this one as well. Five minutes before our lunch break, a CPO poked in his head and said, “the shuttle just blew up.” Actually, most of us laughed because the thought was ridiculous. Sophisticated, modern rockets didn’t just “blow up” – at least not in our class’ 19 years watching flawless launches on TV. When we looked at his stunned face we realized it was no joke.
They let us out of class and we all stood there staring at the spiraling smoke trails far to the east. It took about an hour and a half for the wind to blow it all away.
- 6:18 PM, February 01, 2008
- Thank you for your service. (I wish I could tell everyone who’s worked at NASA that.)
- 6:52 PM, January 28, 2009
- Oh wow. I was a senior in high school and our entire class was watching. We Wyoming kids were so excited because our teachers were so excited. It took a while for it all to sink in as to what happened that day. However, I can tell you that many of my classmates are teachers now . . . some who hadn’t even thought of that profession. I wonder if that day was part of what made the difference?
- 9:58 PM, January 28, 2009
- CJ said…
- Andrea, I was in Jr. High School in jacksonville, FL when this happened. I remember our teacher taking us out to watch the launch trail and being very confused when the single plume turned into many. Our teacher quickly ushered us back inside the classroom. She had a strange demeanor for the rest of class. I didn’t find out exactly what happened until that night.
- 10:27 PM, January 28, 2009
bill7tx said…
- My wife was there, on the beach south of Canaveral, watching with her father and her sister. Her mother had died during heart surgery the week before, and they had gone to watch the launch to try to get out from under the grief for a little while. It didn’t work out that way. I was in a meeting in Dallas, and we took a break to watch the launch. I will never forget the sick feeling when the shuttle blew up.
It must have been even more terrible for you.
- 10:48 PM, January 28, 2009
- What was NASA thinking, launching a shuttle on one of the very rare cold mornings in Florida? Up here in the North, we know that any machine is much more likely to fail when it is cold. What a waste.
- 7:16 PM, January 29, 2009
Greybeard said…
- Ahh Mike, those questions have been asked over, and over, and… This is another of those days where you remember EXACTLY what was going on in your life-
My 3 year old son had suffered from ear infections all his life. We finally got sick of him being sick and the operation to insert drainage tubes in his ears was scheduled early that morning. He was groggy when we left “same-day-surgery” and beginning to wake up when we got home and turned on the TV, just in time to see the “Y” Andrea refers to. It was stressful trying to deal with a rightfully fussy child while listening to the news of this catastrophe.
Several months later I attended the birthday party of my former helicopter student. His Mother, with a sly smile, said “I have someone I want you to meet”, and took me across the room by the hand. In front of the gentleman she wanted to introduce me to she said, “I figured one pilot would have plenty to say to another”.
I knew something was up, and asked “So, what do you pilot?”
“A mini-sub”.
And I proceeded to talk for most of the evening with the guy NASA hired to pick the pieces off the ocean floor.No one gets outta life alive.
Those that take huge risks sometimes leave us far too soon…
But bless ‘em for taking the risk, so that the rest of us might learn. - 2:23 PM, January 30, 2009

Photoshopped by Politico





