Highways Into Space: A first-hand account of the beginnings of the human space program Read Free Page B

on the kitchen table and he got pretty good at all kinds of repairs. Throughout our careers and into retirement, Bill is the Lunney go-to brother if you want something fixed. But, we all live a thousand miles apart. Jerry, on the other hand, came near to serious bodily harm from Dad for some of his driving antics, such as losing the car. That was a father-son “interrogation for the age” and it got even more memorable as Jerry “lost” the car several more times, each time he was out late with his buddies. Dad could not comprehend how one of his own flesh and blood could do this.
    Our parents had a common division of roles for family administration. Dad was in charge of the big D for all around discipline; he was project management and operations for the work to keep our facilities – house, yard and cars – in order; he provided training and direction to our small work force; he certainly assured quality; he provided encouragement to our sports endeavors and our progress in school. And, he provided example constantly. When he left us with a job, he came back later with a clear idea about how much should have been accomplished. We either got a nod for okay, or a frown and a suggestion that meant “increase your productivity.”
     

     
    MOM AND DAD
     
    Dad also had a continuing series of projects at his work at Niverts where he worked, after the mines, from about 1951 on. Niverts was a company that gradually became a metal supply and fabrication company, from an early beginning in the junk car parts business. These projects ranged from taking down a high smokestack, building retainer walls, designing and constructing a warehouse and learning to weld aluminum before it was a common technique. Dad always displayed a sense of pride in doing any of these jobs well and he had little patience for fellow workers who could not organize an implementation as well as he did. He usually did things in his head and knew what would work and how strong to make it. Dad was also big on sports, loved his Phillies and Eagles. He always encouraged us to play ball and do well. When we were of the age, he came home one night with three different baseball gloves – fielder, first baseman and catcher – probably far more than he could afford. And those gloves smelled just the way I imagined a new leather glove would. We learned to “perform” on projects and to “play” with spirit.
    Dad and Mom were always so proud of my opportunity to be part of the manned space program. They probably did not appreciate how much their example flowed through all of their children’s accomplishments and would downplay it, when we pointed out that connection.
    Two of Dad’s projects stand out as examples. In the summer of 1951, we were newly living at the old family homestead on River Street in Old Forge. The house sat up on a hill – overlooking a cemetery on the East Side and with an elevation drop of about thirty feet to River Street on the North Side. Under a thin covering of soil barely enough for grass, the hill was made of layers of rock gradually sloping down from the house to the street. Dad wanted a garage down near the street and its location would be such that there would be a forty to fifty feet run of driveway, running east towards the cemetery, climbing about ten feet in elevation above River Street. Nearest to the street was the beginning of a driveway of about twenty feet in length. The job was to excavate a volume about twenty-five feet in length, twelve feet in width with a rock shelf about two feet high on the side where our house was and tapering to about the right elevation on the street side of the driveway. The tools were wedges and sledgehammers. The workers were three. There was plenty of room to dump the fill in the low spots. The job took all summer and Dad approved, and was probably even proud of us for the job.
    Then, one Saturday, Dad came home with sections of a garage on a flat bed. It took a few more adult friends to