Ed Buckbee: Rocket man Wernher von Braun was the consummate communicator

Buckbee.jpgEd Buckbee, who worked for Wernher von Braun in the NASA public affairs office, said von Braun carefully thought out how to deliver a message to his many audiences, from the president to the public at large.

HUNTSVILLE, Alabama -- The physics acumen and engineering savvy required to ready a craft for early manned spaceflight were the calling cards that won Wernher von Braun the privilege of being a leader in America's fledgling space program. But his unwavering dedication and unmatched genius didn't stop there. He played a tandem role that both experience and time have proven to be equally important.

Rocket scientist von Braun was a consummate communicator, embracing nuance and semantics. He carefully considered how to deliver a message to his many audiences, from the executive branch of government to the public at large.

Starting with the basics, the German-born scientist asked that his name be pronounced using dictates from American English. That was a first step in relating to American audiences and we were more than happy to oblige. I don't think he knew that the President's secret service went another step and assigned him an American-style nickname - Rocket Man. If he did know, I bet he liked it.

He also was quick to convey that his mission was your mission. Everything was a team effort. A note from von Braun might include, "P.S. - Remember you are on the critical path." In other words, the manner in which a task was completed could impact the success or failure of a mission and mean the life or death of an astronaut.

Von Braun shot straight and the press believed him. He answered media questions without using technical jargon. Add good looks, a European accent and an engaging manner and the U.S. space program press corps had a media darling. That sometimes wasn't so sweet, however, when von Braun was in the company of his superiors. He always had at least two individuals immediately above him in the chain of command; the director of manned spaceflight and the NASA administrator. To prevent ruffled feathers, we encouraged friends in the press to spread questions to others and von Braun was also quick to encourage comment from throughout a panel.

His speaking schedule was continuous and he rarely missed an opportunity to promote the space program. One such engagement took us to McAlester, Okla., for a speech at the request of Speaker of the U. S. House of Representatives Carl Albert. The official greeting party met us and we immediately went into a press conference. The standard questions ensued, "Are we going to beat the Russians to the moon? Couldn't this money be better spent on something here in Oklahoma? What do you think about UFO's?" He answered clearly, concisely and pleasantly, as if he had never been asked these questions before.

Afterward, we loaded into a big limo and joined a speeding caravan through downtown McAlester. As we sped past the courthouse, von Braun observed, "These high-speed, police-escorted motorcades are the most hazardous part of my job." We arrived safely at the local high school and entered a non-air-conditioned gymnasium, filled to capacity. Von Braun was taken to the speaker's platform and treated to the standard fare, fried chicken and peas. In turn, he provided autographs - lots of them. From the beginning of his career to when he became quite prominent, he never understood the demand for his autograph. Autographs were for movie stars, not rocket scientists.

Von Braun gave the heartland speech that evening in Oklahoma, reminding the audience that Americans had always been explorers and pioneers. If Americans want to continue as world leaders, they must establish a leadership role in space. He commended the local congressman for his great leadership in Washington and his invaluable contributions to the nation's space program. At the close of his speech, the audience gave von Braun a standing ovation, named him, "Chief- Fire-Arrows-To-The-Moon," and gave him a beautiful, full-length Indian headdress. Donning the headdress, von Braun posed for pictures, said goodbye to everyone, climbed in the limo and returned to the airport with the high-speed police escort.

Von Braun had a fascination for machines and man-in-the-loop technology. He loved to fly aircraft, drive weird machines and be challenged by sophisticated simulators. It became well known in the space community if you had a new prototype vehicle that could float, fly or had wheels and you wanted to sell it to NASA, bring it to Huntsville. If von Braun sat in the driver's seat, it was almost a sure thing: NASA would buy it.

We went through a period in the '60s when an incredible number of aerospace companies appeared at Marshall Space Flight Center's entrance with new prototypes for von Braun to test. He drove moon buggies of all sizes and shapes, flew airplanes that looked too big to be in the sky and rode on river barges that resembled blimp hangars. I must say, most of the vendors were successful in selling their machines to NASA. Von Braun loved innovation and he had a lot of fun serving as the pilot and test driver.

Static test firings were von Braun's favorite show and tell. At first, we placed special guests in the dark and drab blockhousewhere they could observe the firing, protected behind portals of several layers of glass and thick concrete walls.

Although quite close to the firing, they could neither hear the sound nor feel the heat and vibration of the firing. Von Braun didn't like it. The whole point of the demonstration was lost. He suggested having them observe from an open bunker, what became known as "Heimburg Hill," (named after the director of the test laboratory, Karl Heimburg). The bunker had a roof and a concrete wall with a slit for viewing and open in the back. It was sometimes affectionately referred to as the "cow shed." The next time we had a firing, the VIPs were not only impressed, some were scared out of their wits.

But suddenly, we had a flood of Washington politicians coming to Huntsville to witness one of "von Braun's fire and smoke shows." Standing 2,000 yards away in the "cow shed," first-timers watched a giant rocket ignite, generating 32 million horsepower, felt the ground shake and experienced vibration hitting their chest like a hammer and heat flashing directly upon their faces. It was a crowd pleaser and one of the best communication tools in von Braun's arsenal and President John F. Kennedy was one of those impressed.

In 1972, while I was driving von Braun to the airport, a CBS-TV reporter conducted an interview. Asked by the reporter, would he like to go in space, he commented, "I'd love to." Being a pilot, he understood spaceflight was the next step in the challenge. I think he planned to fly as a scientist aboard the space shuttle, deeming it safe for other non-astronauts.

The fact that he, a non-astronaut, could safely fly in space, would set the stage for the president of the United States - the leader of the free world - to address the world from space. Unfortunately, events did not unfold in time and von Braun was taken from us in 1977 at the relatively young age of 65.

One of von Braun's NASA headquarters colleagues, Alan Lovelace, said it well, "In the tradition of Newton and Einstein, he was a dreamer pursing visions, and at the same time a creative genius. He was a 20th century Columbus who pushed back the new frontiers of outer space with efforts that enabled his adopted country to achieve a pre-eminence in space exploration."

Ed Buckbee began working for Wernher von Braun in the NASA public affairs office in 1961.