Free Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight by Jay Barbree

X-15 assignments with his fingers crossed that he wasn’t too late to join Glenn and the ranks of the astronauts.

    John and Annie Glenn are honored with a parade in their hometown of New Concord, Ohio. (NASA)
    Meanwhile the word went out from NASA. It’s a long way to the moon. Keep the astronauts flying. Next in line Deke Slayton said, “Let’s go.”
    But there were rumblings. There was a rumor about Deke’s heart.
    Presidential science advisor Jerome Wiesner, without a doubt the biggest hard-ass in the Kennedy administration, was at it again. The chief meddler spoke with the NASA boss. “Jim,” he told Webb. “The White House has heard about Slayton’s heart irregularity, and sending him into orbit could be a terrible mistake.”
    “How,” Webb quickly asked? “He’s been cleared by the flight surgeons and he’s been flying … hell, he’s been test-flying with this irregularity for years. What’s the problem?”
    “I know,” Wiesner agreed. “But if something should go wrong, anything, and the word got out that Slayton had an erratic heart, who do you think they would blame?”
    “The president,” Webb agreed.
    “That’s right, Jim. Take Slayton off the flight.”
    Webb nodded.
    Deke had idiopathic paroxysmal atrial fibrillation, a disturbance of the rhythm in the heart’s muscle fibers in the upper chambers. The NASA chief called for a medical panel to review the facts. The panel agreed with Wiesner. The job of telling Deke was handed to his friend, flight surgeon Bill Douglas.
    “Goddamn it, Bill, those sons-a-bitches can’t do this to me,” Deke shouted. “No one was concerned about this during selection. Hell, I’ve been flying the hottest jets out there—no big thing.”
    “I know,” Douglas agreed, “But it’s all about appearances. If something should go wrong, reporters would have JFK’s ass.”
    “Instead it’s my ass.”
    “Right! There’s more bad news,” the flight surgeon told him.
    “What the hell now?”
    “I know the rules call for the backup pilot to slip into the seat of an astronaut unable to make a mission,” Douglas said, “but Wally won’t be going.”
    “Why the hell not?”
    “Bob Gilruth decided Scott Carpenter, Glenn’s backup, has more time in the Mercury simulator than Schirra, so Carpenter will be going.”
    Deke turned away disgusted. NASA gave him a few minutes with reporters who had gathered. Deke did what was expected of him. He put the best face possible on possibly the worst news of his life. He took one for the team, then got the hell out of Dodge.
    *   *   *
    In the coming weeks Deke waged a fierce battle to return to flight status, and his fellow Mercury Seven astronauts rallied round him.
    John Glenn stepped forward. “We’re a team,” he told the others. “Deke’s still part of our team and we must give him his pride back.”
    “Yeah, man,” Gus Grissom agreed.
    “Let’s make him chief astronaut,” said Gordo Cooper, “but we’ll have to hurry.”
    “Why’s that?” Wally Schirra asked.
    “The word is they’re bringing in a general to take charge of us,” Cooper told them.
    “Like hell they are,” Shepard, the future admiral, snapped.
    “Let’s take a vote and stand firm,” Scott Carpenter suggested.
    They all agreed that standing together would work, and they went to see the boss. “We have three recommendations for chief astronaut,” John Glenn told NASA administrator James Webb. “Deke Slayton, Deke Slayton, and Deke Slayton.”
    Webb smiled. The message was clear. He turned a thumbs-up, and Deke became chief astronaut.
    *   *   *
    Alan Shepard said it was like turning a switch. Deke’s pride was back and first on his list was a new group of astronauts for the Gemini and Apollo projects.
    Deke began reading applications and was pleased one was from Neil Armstrong. He smiled. He was going to have the horses he needed to ride to the moon.

Ready for launch, Neil Armstrong’s X-15 hangs beneath