Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the Senate proceed to S. Res. 377, submitted earlier today. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the resolution be agreed to, the preamble be agreed to, the motion to reconsider be laid on…
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the Senate proceed to S. Res. 377, submitted earlier today.
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the resolution be agreed to, the preamble be agreed to, the motion to reconsider be laid on the table, with no intervening action or debate, and that any statements be printed in the Record.
Mr. President, on behalf of Senator Portman and myself, I am proud to have submitted this bipartisan resolution--joined by 18 Senators, 10 of whom served with John Glenn in the Senate.
Fifty-years ago next week, on the morning of February 20, 1962, John Herschel Glenn, Jr. of Ohio became the first American to orbit the Earth.
I was 9 years old. Like other families around Ohio, I watched him on television at home in Mansfield with my parents and two brothers.
The broadcast also showed John Glenn, Sr. and Clara Glenn, John's parents, watching anxiously.
Across the country, others were listening on transistor radios. In New York City, the subway system broadcast the liftoff and flight progress over loud speakers.
In Grand Central Station, CBS News set up a large 12 foot by 16 foot screen over the main ticket window--by the time of lift-off 10,000 people had packed the terminal.
Like millions of Americans, they watched Walter Cronkite set the scene. Our Nation was in the midst of the Cold War--worried about Russian nuclear aggression, worried about the race into space.
Cronkite would later say that:
It was a time when the intricacies of science were
complicated by deep American doubts and anxieties over where
we stood in the race with Russian science.
With the arms race in a dead heat, space had become the
scoreboard of Cold War competition.
That's why a few years earlier, President Eisenhower launched Project Mercury as the first human spaceflight program in the United States--to put our country on the playing field.
Hundreds of our Nation's bravest and patriotic aviators signed up-- only seven were selected as the original Mercury 7: John Glenn, Jr. of Ohio; M. Scott Carpenter of Colorado; L. Gordon Cooper, Jr. of Oklahoma; Virgil I. ``Gus'' Grissom of Indiana; Walter M. Schirra, Jr. of New Jersey; Alan B. Shepard, Jr. of New Hampshire; and Donald K. ``Deke'' Slayton of Wisconsin.
Glenn later wrote of the original Mercury 7 astronauts, ``The world was at the door of a new age, and we were the people who had been chosen to take the first steps across the threshold.''
And when President Kennedy took office, he continued our Nation's pursuit into space--and race against the Russians.
He said, ``Our leadership in science and industry, our hopes for peace and security . . . require us to solve these mysteries and to solve them for the good of all men.''
Alan Shepard piloted the Freedom 7 in May 1961 and Gus Grissom piloted Liberty Bell 7 in July 1961 to prove that Americans could launch humans into suborbital flight.
But then the Russians successfully launched Yuri Gagarin into orbit around the Earth.
America's response was left to a decorated Marine aviator born in Cambridge, Ohio who grew up a few miles away in New Concord.
On the morning of February 20, 1962, the eyes of the world were on John Glenn, who was tasked with piloting our space program's most dangerous flight at the time.
He would command Friendship 7--named by Glenn and his children, Dave and Lyn, to emphasize our Nation's intentions in space.
But over weeks and months, his mission was scrubbed ten times.
The reasons were varied--from inclement weather to technical problems. Tensions remained high throughout.
Any miscues or failure would undermine national security--along with national pride and the country's psyche.
Finally, at 9:47 a.m. on February 20, 1962, with 70 degree Fahrenheit weather at NASA's Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida, Friendship 7 was blasted off into space.
As the rocket ascended, people cheered. Others cried and prayed--the hopes of an entire nation rested on the shoulders of a single man in a space capsule hurling into an unknown place.
Everything was going as planned--from launch to orbital entry--and once successfully in space, John Glenn became the first American to orbit the Earth.
He would observe three sunrises, three sunsets, and the wonder of the universe in 4 hours and 56 minutes.
But during the flight, problems occurred. The spacecraft's automatic control system malfunctioned, causing Glenn to manually control the capsule.
And he was prepared to do so--benefitting from NASA's vigorous training that included 70 simulated missions and malfunction response training for nearly 200 simulated system failures.
His model of calmness, which I have seen many times over the years in all kinds of situations, would become standard operating procedure for future NASA manned space missions.
And despite having to deal with the malfunctions, Glenn still carried out critical parts of the mission.
He took photographs of the Earth, observed weather on the Earth's surface, and gave constant feedback to flight controllers about his physical responses to the zero-gravity environment.
But earlier in the flight, Glenn saw an indicator light that Friendship 7's heat shield had loosened--threatening his re-entry into Earth.
With its world-class scientists and engineers leading the way--and confident in its flight planning--NASA decided to keep the retrorocket pack attached to secure the heat shield.
As planned, Friendship 7 re-entered the Earth's atmosphere--with Glenn describing the ``fire-ball'' re-entry as one of the most exhilarating parts of the flight.
It is the streak of light that people on Earth could see in the sky.
And in descent, the capsule successfully parachuted and splashed down in the Atlantic Ocean, east of the Grand Turk Island, at 2:43 p.m., Eastern Standard Time. The USS Noa retrieved Friendship 7 and brought Glenn aboard--validating our Nation's pursuit of discovery and ensuring its place in the space race against the Russians. And just as important--the flight of Friendship 7 and the courage of John Glenn inspired generations of new scientists, engineers, and aviators. It launched a new era of science, aerospace, and defense industries, and it showed that our advancements in science--in exploring the unknown-- are not only a national security imperative, they are an economic imperative, too--reaffirming that we have what it takes to out-compete and out-innovate any nation in the world.
After his flight, Glenn received a hero's welcome--decorated with awards and accolades--and honored in ticker-tape parades and magazine profiles. Throughout it all, he remained humbled by his patriotism and his small
town Ohio roots--as a son whose father was a plumber, and whose mother was a schoolteacher. And he remained grounded by his love for his wife, his childhood sweetheart, Annie.
Much has been written about John and Annie. Both are just as in love with each other now in their 90s as they were as children when they met--as John says, in a playpen in New Concord.
He says of Annie, ``that she was part of my life from the time of my first memory.''
It is fitting that in celebrating the 50th anniversary of John Glenn's historic orbit of Earth, we honor his family--Annie and their children, Dave and Lyn who gave public blessing and private prayers and support during his service to our Nation.
I was fortunate to sit with Lyn and Dave and Annie in the Rotunda when John Glenn, with three other astronauts, received the Congressional Gold Medal for his flight aboard Friendship 7.
We also honor the thousands of dedicated and patriotic men and women of NASA's Project Mercury Program.
It took a huge team of people as dedicated as John Glenn, and perhaps as courageous, who ensured the safety and security of their astronauts and preserved the pride of a grateful Nation. John will be in Florida on this weekend to meet with those who were part of that operation--the engineers, the scientists, the technicians--thanking them again for sending him up and bringing him down safely. Their service has inspired generations of future NASA technicians and mission control specialists--from Plum Brook Station in Sandusky, to NASA Glenn in Cleveland, to NASA centers around the country.
At one of the first press conferences of the Mercury 7 astronauts, Glenn said:
This whole project . . . stands with us now like the Wright
Brothers--Ohioans also--stood at Kitty Hawk . . . I think we
stand on the verge of something as big and expansive as that
was 50 years ago.
It is that spirit of discovery, that conviction, duty, and faith that John Glenn embodies and that his flight aboard Friendship 7 symbolizes. It is my honor to submit this bipartisan resolution celebrating such an important national and scientific achievement.
It is also my honor to be accompanied on the floor today by Nicole Smith, who is a fellow from NASA Glenn, an aeronautical engineer, who has done things as varied as having trained cosmonauts to the work she has done in our office, guiding the success of NASA Glenn, one of the best NASA centers in the country.
I am also joined on the floor by Laura Lynch, who has been with my office for 3 years--a Clevelander--who is actually leaving our office for bigger and better things in a couple of weeks. She has been part of this too.
In my last personal moment with this resolution, I remember 40-some years ago--44 years ago, I believe--when John Glenn was not Senator Glenn but still Colonel Glenn. I received my Eagle Scout award in Mansfield earlier in the year, and COL John Glenn came to a dinner with a number of other Eagle Scouts in Mansfield. I have a picture in my office in the Senate Hart Building of me standing there in my Boy Scout uniform with my Eagle Scout pin with John Glenn, and next to that is a picture of John Glenn and me some 38 years later before he walked me down the center aisle to be sworn in to the Senate with the Senator from Rhode Island in January of 2007.
John Glenn is special to our Nation. He is special to my wife Connie and me because of our love for John and Annie and our respect for Dave and Lyn, their children. He has honored our country in so many ways, it is my honor to submit this resolution and I thank my colleagues.
I yield the floor and suggest the absence of a quorum.