Robert Holguin - White Sands and Space

 

Space travel used to be a pretty big deal. I mean, it's still a big deal. But back before Sir Richard Branson started talking about space tourism, going in and out of Earth's orbit was newsworthy. People paid attention, especially when it came to the space shuttle.  In the 1980s. this thing was revolutionary. It blew people's minds. It blew my mind. So, imagine when I'm 12 years old, I get a phone call from my uncle and he says, “Hey, you want to go see the Space Shuttle land?” And I was like, “What?” And he's like, “Yeah, the Space Shuttle, it's going to land at White Sands tomorrow. Do you want to go see it land?”

 

My uncle was a state policeman in New Mexico. He was in charge of the governor's security. So, the governor and my uncle were going to see the Space Shuttle land at White Sands Missile Range the next day and they were asking me if I wanted to tag along. So, for a sixth grader who was a big fan of Star Trek, this was a no brainer. Of course, I wanted to see the Space Shuttle. But for my parents, it wasn't quite so clear cut. You see, I wasn't a very good student. 

 

Truth be told, I was a pretty lousy student. [audience laughter] I never did my homework. I always talked in class. I never studied for tests. So, my parents didn't want to reward this kind of behavior by letting me skip school, even if it meant that their son would get to see a spaceship land in the desert. So, I begged, I pleaded, I made promises about changing my ways. And they relented. 

 

So, the next morning on March 29th, 1982, I was on a date with destiny. I was in the backseat of an unmarked police car. My Uncle John was driving. We finally arrived at headquarters at White Sands Missile Range, about two hours north of my hometown there in New Mexico. There was my uncle's boss, Governor Bruce King. If you can imagine, he was a big, boisterous politician. I remember he was wearing a polyester suit and cowboy boots. He was working the room, shaking everyone's hand. He shook my hand. It was a big day for Governor King. This was about the future of space exploration. 

 

Now, back in those days, there was only one space shuttle, the Columbia. It had been in space for seven days. It had a crew of two, and it was supposed to have landed at Edwards Air Force Base. It always landed at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert. But the landing strip there had been rained out. So, the secondary site, an alternate site, was White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. 

 

Now, White Sands wasn't dealing with rain, but it was dealing with wind. Like intense wind, the kind of wind that sent grains of white sand deep into my eye sockets and ear canals, the kind of wind that would make it very difficult for anyone to pilot and glide a 165,000 pounds spacecraft back down to the desert floor. 

 

I remember being fascinated by that particular element. The Space Shuttle would glide back to Earth. No second chances. You had to get it right the first time. So, anyways, we stood there. The hours kept slipping by. The dignitaries had gotten sandblasted off the aluminum bleachers and they had retreated to headquarters. I remember a sinking feeling in my stomach, because I could see the military guys talking to my uncle. They were talking about the wind. They were saying it was just too strong. 

 

And then, finally, several hours later, the official word came on my uncle's radio, “The landing had been canceled. The mission was scrubbed because of the winds.” I remember learning that word that day, scrubbed. And it seemed appropriate, because for a 12-year-old with a NASA vest from Kmart, it felt like my heart had been scrubbed with a wire brush. The guys from NASA said, “Don't worry, they're going to try again tomorrow. They're just going to extend the mission by one day. They'll try to land again tomorrow,” hopefully, it won't be as windy. 

 

On the car ride back home, I was heartbroken. I was silent, because it didn't matter that NASA was going to try again tomorrow, because I knew that my parents weren't going to let me skip school for a second day. So, my uncle dropped me off at home. He said, “Good luck with that.” He knew what was up. [audience laughter] I went in the house, and my parents had already heard the news on the news that the landing had been delayed by one day. Before I could even begin my sales pitch, my dad was like, “Nope, no way. It's not going to happen. You're not missing school again.” Missing school wasn't that big a deal, but remember, I got terrible grades. I'm the one that refused to study. 

 

So, even at 12, I knew this was on me. This was my fault. So, I retreated back to my bedroom, stared at the ceiling and daydreamed about what a landing might have looked like. And then, in the kitchen, I could overhear my sister coming to my defense. She was lobbying on my behalf. And that was an interesting development, because brother-sister relations weren't exactly good back then. [audience laughter] But I heard her say a short speech, something about the historic significance of the event. And then, she said, wrapping it up, “Que gacho,” which translates roughly to how sad. [audience laughter] The shame worked, I suppose, because eventually, my mom came around and then my dad let up and so they let me go. 

 

So, the next day, I was back in that unmarked police car on my way to White Sands Missile Range. When we got to the landing strip, the weather was perfect, and I decided to strike out on my own. That's when I started to notice all of the photographers and all of the cameras and all of the reporters and all the people holding microphones. I started to notice the stages that they had built in the desert with lights hanging from rigging. The world was watching. You could tell the excitement was building. 

 

Then the official word came over the loudspeaker, “The Columbia was coming home.” The photographers trained their lenses to the sky. Everyone started to point. There it was, off in the distance, just a tiny white speck. We heard the thunderous sonic boom, which, again, I thought was thunder. But the shuttle was traveling faster than the speed of sound.

 

As it made its descent, it was flanked by two fighter jets. The Columbia looked nothing like the fighter jets. They were sleek and agile. The Columbia was bulky, and cumbersome and silent as it made its final approach and landed effortlessly in the desert. It whizzed past us, and I broke out my instamatic camera and took some photos. Then I noticed that all of the photographers and reporters that I'd seen earlier were standing way off in the distance, much closer to the shuttle than the rest of us. In fact, they were standing really close to where the astronauts would be standing. 

 

And so, I began to wonder, why are they over there and we're over here? I decided I was just going to walk over there with them. I had no idea that you had to be credentialed to be in that area, or at least an adult. But I just decided to walk right alongside those cool photographers and reporters I'd met earlier. And I walked right into the press conference. 

 

It was a chaotic press conference, if you can imagine, out in the desert floor, two astronauts trying to answer questions. So, I just weaseled my way up front. And before I knew it, I was standing right next to the pilot, Gordon Fullerton. I started snapping pictures [audience laughter] with my little Instamatic. He's trying to answer questions and I decide, “Hey, I want to ask a question.” [audience laughter] So, I chose my moment and then I said-- Now, remember, he's standing right next to me. “Hey, what did it feel like to be in space?” A confused look came over his face. 

 

Remember, Gordon Fullerton had just reentered the Earth's atmosphere. So, he's trying to come to terms with why a 12-year-old is asking him questions. [audience laughter] He didn't answer my question. He just laughed. And that's when NASA security noticed that a 12-year-old [audience laughter] had entered a restricted area. They escorted me right out of the press conference back to where everyone else was standing, far from the action. 

 

I didn't get a quote, but I did get a photo, fairly decent photo of Gordon Fullerton. The Columbia would go on to take part in several missions, but the Columbia would fall off the front page. The missions became routine over the years until February of 2003. That's when the Columbia disintegrated over the skies of Texas. 

 

I was coming to work that day. I was working for a TV station here in El Paso. And the assignment desk called me and told me about what had happened. It was a national tragedy. But to me, it was personal. That same spaceship that I had seen land effortlessly in the desert, just evaporated like a falling star. All seven crew members were killed.

 

I remember going through my old photos of the Columbia to try to show them on the news that night. I remember that day at White Sands, to me signified the space program's ability to adapt, to overcome and come out on top, but not on that day. The Columbia story would end in disaster. 

 

I would have one more opportunity to cover the shuttle program. As the shuttle program was coming to an end, I was a television reporter in Los Angeles, and one of the last surviving shuttles The Endeavour was being turned into a museum piece. But first, they had to get it to the museum. So, the only way to do that was to drive it through the streets of LA, like a $4 billion parade float. 

 

I remember working with a photographer that day. His name was Steve, and he was one of those cool cameramen, just like the ones I had met out in the desert in 1982. He and I couldn't stop. We couldn't stop but laugh at the spectacle of what we were seeing. We were seeing a spaceship cruise through the streets of South Central. But on that day, everybody was celebrating, everybody was happy, everyone cared about the shuttle again. 

 

As the Endeavor passed by, I grabbed a selfie of myself with the Endeavor in the background. It was better than the photos I took of the Columbia. But the idea was the same. Everyone else was watching on TV, but I was right there next to the action and I got my shot.