GODSPEED, FRANK BORMAN
By Rachel Trinder, ESQ.
Rachel Trinder, aviation and space attorney extraordinaire, shares some aerospace memories on Christmas Eve
Fifty-five years ago, this Christmas Eve, the world was treated to a truly magical event when Col. Frank Borman and his Apollo 8 colleagues read to the world from Genesis while circling the moon. Today we tend to take space activities for granted, and movies have made space seem far more accessible than it is in reality. But for those of us who lived through that extraordinary adventure in 1968, the experience was spellbinding, a ray of hope in a world that had suffered massive unrest and violence, including widespread rioting, the devastation of the Vietnam war, the Warsaw Pact’s invasion of then-Czechoslovakia, and the cruel assassinations of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Senator Robert F. Kennedy.
As a child then, whose mother had just died after a long, crushing illness, God was not my favorite personage. Indeed, that Christmas season seemed unwaveringly bleak. We were poor, and life felt very grim. We had very little support – and certainly no grief counseling – and the finality of death seemed to be pervasive.
And then, quite literally out of the blue – or the darkness of space – came Frank and his colleagues.
The fact that humans for the first time were circling the moon was itself a stunning technological achievement, a happening of almost mythical proportions. Human space ventures had begun only a few years before with the 1961 earth orbit of Yuri Gagarin, followed by brief forays below and into the earth’s orbit by America’s Mercury 7 astronauts. There also were devastating failures, including the terrible launch pad fire that killed Virgil “Gus” Grissom, Roger Chaffee, and Frank Borman’s good friend, Ed White. But humans circling the moon? The very thought of it was almost inconceivable, yet there they were, beaming pictures and voices to us from a quarter million miles away.
It was an extraordinary achievement in every respect, and Frank’s role in it, along with that of his teammates, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders, was in my view as impressive a feat of daring as humans have ever undertaken. With the Cold War and the U.S.-Soviet space race in high gear, and U.S. fears rampant that the Soviets were close to launching their own moon mission, Frank answered the call to duty by agreeing to lead an unexpected early attempt at a crewed lunar flight – one that would launch in a mere four months. Not only had no nation ever attempted a crewed lunar orbital flight, but the highly truncated time frame for achieving success placed burdens on Col. Borman and his crew of unparalleled proportions.
Among other obstacles, the mission’s Saturn V booster had never flown with humans aboard, and its most recent test had suffered near-catastrophic problems. Success also required the development of extensive new procedures and the resolution of significant engineering and navigational challenges never previously encountered. As Jerry Lederer, then NASA’s safety chief, commented, the mission would involve “risks of great magnitude and probably risks that have not been foreseen. Apollo 8 has 5,600,000 parts and 1,500,000 million systems, sub-systems, and assemblies. Even if all functioned with 99.99 percent reliability, we could expect 5,600 defects.” Crew member Bill Anders estimated the chances of the crew returning alive at a mere thirty percent.
Remarkably, the mission was a stunning success, experiencing relatively few technical hiccups. It changed our world, not least because of the crew’s captivating photograph of “Earthrise” (taken by Anders), the first time that humans had seen the earth from such a distance. Now we could see our beautiful blue and green planet hung in the darkness like a jewel, and somehow, at least to me, the images, and words the crew beamed to us brought hope.
Years later I had the privilege of sharing with Col. Borman how inspirational he had been to me. It wasn’t just because of his leading the mission and that Christmas Eve reading, but because he had so readily stepped into the breach, the extreme challenges and risks notwithstanding. While those of us who were Star Trek fans became very familiar with the phrase, “where no man has gone before,” the fact is that Col. Borman and his crew quite literally did that, leaving the earth’s relatively safe environment headed for an unknown celestial body, the first time that humans had ever ventured so far and deep into space. Today, in the 2020s, aviation and space are becoming increasingly intertwined. In the 1960s, they were and were thought of as separate regimes. In effect Frank and his crew represented the beginning of the melding of the two, and Frank had the perfect background to begin those adventures, having been a test pilot as well as a West Point instructor in thermodynamics and fluid mechanics.
But Frank’s key strength was his character, and perhaps what impressed me most was his unwavering commitment to “duty, honor, country,” qualities not surprising for a West Point man, but embodied in Frank as well as anyone. He was the ultimate no-nonsense, take responsibility person, with integrity critical above all. Years later he was kind enough to sign for me the iconic “suiting up” photo taken as the Apollo 8 crew were preparing to launch. If ever a day seems overwhelming to me, all I have to do is look at that image for inspiration. Surely nothing in my life could ever be more daunting than leading the first ever mission of humankind beyond our planet, and under the most challenging and risky circumstances. But like everything else, Frank took on that task unflinchingly.
That was in fact his approach throughout his life, not least when asked to head up the investigation of how and why his fellow astronauts assigned to Apollo 1 had died in that ghastly launch pad fire. He dutifully took on that grim task – including spending many hours in the charred cockpit where his friends had died – and through his investigation and the resulting changes, made it possible for the Apollo program to go ahead. We are all familiar with the extraordinary achievements of Apollo 11 and the first Moon Landing, and nothing can or should detract from it. But to lead the first effort to extend the reach of humankind beyond our planet represented daring and courage deeply worthy of our ongoing respect and admiration. In the words of Neil Armstrong, it was an enormously bold decision, and catapulted the U.S. space program to its 1969 lunar landing success.
Some may feel less kindly towards Col. Borman because of the actions he took while at Eastern Airlines in the 1970s and 80s as part of the effort to save the airline. Nothing said here detracts from the pain that employees and others may have experienced due to those events. But anyone who knew the real Frank Borman knew that he did what he felt he had to do in order to save the company and employee jobs. Indeed, a hallmark of his character was his willingness to take on the really hard tasks that almost certainly would result in heavy criticism regardless of what actions he took.
While his public life may be the stuff of legends, Frank’s heart was always deeply devoted to his private life with his wife Susan, for and to whom he had a lifelong love and commitment, and a marriage that lasted more than 70 years until her death in 2021 and produced two much-loved children. Under Frank’s tough exterior was not only a heart of gold, but a man who experienced very deep feelings and was capable of learning from his mistakes. In today’s “let it all hang out” world, his firm control over his feelings in public while reserving his private life to his family and close friends may seem very old-fashioned, but I. for one, admired him so much for the way he managed his emotions and focused on the task at hand.
In the latter stages of his life, when Susan was suffering from Alzheimer’s, he was as devoted to her as he was when she was young and in her prime. Once, after I had told him how inspirational he was to me, he shared with me the grim reality of caring for a loved one with that terrible disease, where there is no hope of recovery or even a final word of recognition, and he thanked me for cheering him up. I still tear up when I think of that, grateful that I was able to make even a tiny contribution to a man who had impacted my life so much and so positively.
So, when Col. Borman died on November 7, aged 95, we lost a truly remarkable man, an aviation and space pioneer, and a very great American. Did he know how much we appreciated him and his extraordinary contribution to our lives? Did we do enough to thank him and to celebrate him while he was alive? And are we doing enough for the last two surviving members of the Apollo 8 crew? Probably not. We live in a world that seems increasingly focused on hate and dissatisfaction, when no doubt we would all be better off if we looked at “Earthrise” more often, marveled at our amazing planet and appreciated it more – and treated it and our fellow humans better.
So, this Christmas Eve I, for one, will be thinking of Frank and his amazing Apollo 8 crew of the extraordinary lives they have led, and of their many meaningful contributions to us, not just in terms of aviation and space, but to the quality of our lives and our ability to appreciate our good fortune. Thank you, dear Frank, for all that you gave us, and Godspeed on your journey through eternity with your beloved Susan.
Rachel B. Trinder
President and CEO
Trinder Aviation & Aerospace Advocacy, PLLC
1455 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W.
Suite 400
Washington, D.C. 20004
Tel: 703-927-5667
