DEKE SLAYTON

I'm just a PR guy.  Not glamorous PR, just industrial and tech stuff, for the most part.  But when the Aluminum Association decided we had a good idea to get an astronaut to talk about technology transfer from the space program to earthly uses (like using more aluminum in cars), I got the thrill of my (Star Trek-based) life.

I went on a media tour with Mercury astronaut Donald K. (Deke) Slayton. 

I grew up on Star Trek.  I followed Mercury... then Gemini... then Apollo.  I remember sitting in the car with my family listening on the radio when Neil and Buzz landed on the moon.  I watched the walk the next day on our B&W Sylvania.  Space was the coolest thing ever. 

When I met Deke, he was in cowboy boots and a cowboy shirt, with a great smile and a real southern twang.  Very down to earth.  A good guy.  We started to talk about the Aluminum Association's messages, for his TV and radio interviews, and I learned a couple of things. 

First, just because you can fly a spacecraft, doesn't mean you can pronounce the word "aluminum."  Apparently, it's a real tongue twister.  We spent quite a bit of time trying to break it down.  "Al-loo-min-um."  "Al-loo-min-ee-um?"  "No. al-loo-min-um."  Eventually, I settled for three out of four.  750 ain't bad. 

Second, just because you can fly a spacecraft, doesn't mean you own anything besides cowboy clothes.  So my boss took Deke to a Manhattan men's shop and they picked up some slacks, dress shirts and a nice blue blazer.  He was interview-ready.

As it turns out, Deke never flew during the Mercury missions.  He was one of the "original seven" Mercury astronauts, but there was some sort of hijinks with a late-appearing heart murmur, and he was scrubbed from Mercury.  He was, as you can imagine, pissed.  He later did fly in the Apollo-Soyuz docking mission in '75.  So he got his shot.  A political flight, but better than nothing.

The best story he told me was hard to believe, but I didn't really figure Deke to make it up.  They were in the USSR training for the Apollo-Soyuz mission.  They had done a stint in Houston with the Russians, and now they were at the Soviet space facility.  Very closed in... very tightly controlled (surprise, surprise).  Basically, nothing to do outside of training.  The Americans were put up in a dorm with a common suite area.  Sitting around one night, they complained to themselves about not having any stoppers for the bathtub.  No chance for a good relaxing bath.  The next day, there were stoppers in the tubs.  Hmmm.  It appeared that the cosmodrome had ears.  So they decided to go long.  A few days later they complained that, while their Soviet hosts were treating them really well, and their program was so very professional, it really was a bit boring in the evening with nothing to do.  Boy, they sure would love to be able to shoot some pool in the evenings.  And it was so.  Yes, they came back to the dorm to find a pool table in the suite.  Detente was a beautiful thing.

Marc K.