How did they decide who would stay aboard the spacecraft?
I mean, in the Moon landings of the late 20th century? Three astronauts always approached the Moon, together. Two of whom would set foot on the dusty Moon Herself and experience that searing starlight, that unimaginably cold non-atmosphere, that bizarre leaping lightness. And the third man, the man who must remain aboard the spacecraft to provide vital support to the chosen two and bring them back on board when they were done. How did they decide which ones would step out onto the surface of another planet and which one would not? Surely they were all fit and worthy enough. Did the three astronauts decide among themselves by means of rock-scissors-paper or drawing straws? A dice-roll, or cutting for the high card? Or was it decided in advance who would walk and who would drive, and by whom, and how? Again, I assume they must all have been fit and worthy enough for either role in the spectacle; having come this close together, and all of them having taken the same risky journey.
The easy answer is that Deke Slayton decided. Each astronaut trained for the specific role they took. There was some slight argument about whether Aldrin or Armstrong would be the first on the moon. But in the end Armstrong was the mission commander. Missions were planned down to the minute, and everyone had a role, and trained how to do it. It wasn’t a bunch of guys taking a trip and arguing about who got to do what.
The astronauts were a highly competitive bunch, but all were long term military as well. They understood exactly what was at stake and the rules. They did of course lobby Deke Slayton and push their own interests when it came to crew assignments. But Deke had the final call. He didn’t have to explain his choices to anyone.
I thought there was some consideration of Neil Armstrong’s status as as the first civilian astronaut (naval veteran, but a civilian when he became an astronaut) in his selection to be the first on the moon.
Wow. So one guy got to arbitrarily decide who would and who couldn’t walk on the Moon, and didn’t have to explain it to anyone. And the people involved all accepted his decisions. My reaction…well, it exceeds the boundaries of the Factual Questions category. Thank you, Francis Vaughn, for the comprehensible and credible (albeit rather disheartening) answer.
In the end it was very likely the single best way of doing it.
Deke was a fellow astronaut, albeit grounded for what turned out to be a trivial cause. He knew what was involved, had done the training, and was trusted by everyone.
The alternative would be a committee. That would bring all manner of unwelcome biases and pressure.
What Deke did wasn’t arbitrary. He was trusted to do the job right. If he was not trusted he wouldn’t have been given the job. There are a lot of times in life that the right person for the job beats any other way.
There was also the expectation that after training for one role, you might go to the Moon in a different role later on. That didn’t pan out so well because we ended up cancelling the Apollo project early, and never got off the ground with a follow-on project, but even with the few missions we did fly, three of them did it twice:
Jim Lovell, John Young, and Eugene Cernan are the only three people to have flown to the Moon twice. Young and Cernan each set foot on it during their respective second lunar missions, while Lovell is the only person to have flown to the Moon twice without landing.
So having experience as the Command Module Pilot (the guy who stayed in orbit) would have given you a leg up on the competition for a later flight, had we continued with the program.
Yes, and his skilled, ballsy, calm-headed saving the day with that Gemini flight that spun out of control probably sealed the deal (in Slayton’s mind).
(BTW, a Doper discussion on that about 15 years ago is when I first heard the expression “brass balls”).
I feel the word “arbitrarily” is slightly misleading here. Slayton was as experienced, knowledgeable and impartial an arbiter as they were likely to get. I doubt he selected by flipping a coin or by considering who had brought him the best doughnut that morning.
In Armstrong’s authorized biography First Man, author James Hansen quotes powers that be as saying that Armstrong’s taciturn, publicity-avoiding personality (some called him the “Lunar Lindbergh”) was what they wanted for such an incredibly important role.
I’m reminded of that scene early in Apollo 13 where Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks) is giving a NASA tour to some VIPs when Deke Slayton (Chris Ellis) interrupts to call him aside where he will eventually tell him that he’s been bumped up to be the Apollo 13 prime crew because of Pete Conrad’s ear infection flaring up (IIRC). Lovell interrupts his tour by jokingly saying something like, And here’s Deke Slayton who hands out our assignments, so naturally we kick back some of our paychecks to him.
There is a certain irony here in the fact that Aldrin’s position in the Apollo 11 mission was lunar module pilot (LMP), but in fact it was the commander (Armstrong) who piloted the lander. Despite its name, the LMP role was more analogous to flight engineer in aviation - monitoring systems and giving the commander instrument readings to assist him during flight.
It’s common in military circles that the commander decides something. They take in input from subordinates, experts, etc. But then they decide. And having decided, they may, but need not, explain their rationale as part of laying out who’s going to do what.
A lot of business works the same way. In business, getting obedience rather than self-serving sabotage from your subordinate organization is always much harder than it is in military circles, so there tends to be more of the boss selling the decision to the team than is expected in the military.
I find the idea that the Apollo-era NASA bureaucracy had empowered one person with the final word to be completely as expected. For something of this tiny scale (20-some astronauts) and vast, vast impact, it really needs to be decided by the one lonely person with the metaphorical “buck stops here” sign on their desk.
Armed with lots of input from lots of people including the folks being chosen from.