Posted on 01/28/2020 8:26:25 AM PST by Buttons12
At 11:38 a.m. EST, on January 28, 1986, the space shuttle Challenger lifts off from Cape Canaveral, Florida, and Christa McAuliffe is on her way to becoming the first ordinary U.S. civilian to travel into space. McAuliffe, a 37-year-old high school social studies teacher from New Hampshire, won a competition that earned her a place among the seven-member crew of the Challenger. She underwent months of shuttle training but then, beginning January 23, was forced to wait six long days as the Challenger‘s launch countdown was repeatedly delayed because of weather and technical problems. Finally, on January 28, the shuttle lifted off.
Seventy-three seconds later, hundreds on the ground, including Christa’s family, stared in disbelief as the shuttle broke up in a forking plume of smoke and fire. Millions more watched the wrenching tragedy unfold on live television. There were no survivors.
(Excerpt) Read more at history.com ...
I remember it all too well.
Horrible day. Horrible event.
I got the chance to meet Dr. Ronald McNair, South Carolina’s own astronaut. He visited my high school in SC shortly before going into training for the mission. I remember him being very humble and gracious towards us teenagers. We were in our science class watching the launch to cheer him on. As soon as the explosion happened, even our male science teacher started crying.
I stayed outside and was listening to a tape in the car and when my dad came back out he said, "Hey, did you hear the space shuttle blew up?" My dad was always a practical joker and seeing what kind of tall tales he could sell so I dismissed it. I dropped dad off at home, picked up my friend and we went to the lake. We slapped the puck around for about five minutes when we both agreed that it was just too damn cold. Our spit was quite literally freezing before it hit the ground. We decided that outdoor hockey was a bridge too far on this day. We got back in the car to warm up, turned the radio on and heard the news.
I was born after the Kennedy assassination, and always heard people talking about remembering where they were when they heard the news.
Up to that date, I always wondered what kind of event would leave that kind of impression. After that date, I knew.
I remember seeing this take place in front of a “wall of televisions” on display in a department store - all tuned to the same broadcast. A group of people had gathered to watch, and we all stood there in stunned silence for at least half an hour.
To this day the leftist educationals whom we entrust our children to every day continue to hammer into their heads the belief that the U.S. is a racist, sexist, homophobic country. Do the individuals in the picture in post #4 look to anyone of sound mind like they represent a racist, sexist, homophobic country?
The Season 3 premiere of the Netflix series “GLOW” starts on that day as the characters are watching the shuttle launch.
Yep, working for a Investment firm at the time, it came across the "ticker tape" machine, like an AP or Dow Jones news feed. The most traumatic "remember where I was" event, especially as a New Yorker was no doubt the 9/11 WTC attack.
I was 24 years old and working at a stone quarry blacktop plant. It was a frigid winter day and we were working on the massive asphalt tanks that fed the plant mixer. We went to scale house and watched what happened on a 24” portable TV. It was surreal.
Gave us one of Ronald Reagan’s best speeches ever.
I worked in a support center for a software product that was used by both NASA and Morton Thiokol (manufacturers of the solid rockets that blew up) at the time. I recall the “all hands meeting” so we could talk over how to handle the situation. One of my least fun days working there.
Only eclipsed when I was working for a different company who occupied 8 floors of the South Tower of the WTC in September, 2001.
I was stationed at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi.
Many people on the base had family working with NASA or support contractors in Huston. And all the people on the meteorological side of the base provided critical forecasting and the instructors on the electronics school often had connections as well.
Pretty much the whole base paused and was watching the launch.
I had just arrived at Ft Polk, LA. Was standing in the dayroom with the head shed watching the launch.
When it exploded all of us just kinda looked at each other at first trying to understand what we all just saw.
Will never forget it.
Boy, do I remember that day. I had resigned a job and was in the process of cleaning out my desk, and while radios were banned in the office I had a little transistor AM radio, and having nothing to lose I turned it on. Soon most of the department including our boss was gathered around listening to the news reports. Pre-internet days of course...
I was in Madison, Wisconsin, working in the state government bureaucracy in a research role. One receptionist in our group was sick at home and phoned in, suggesting that people turn on a radio to catch the news. She also commented that rescue helicopters were heading out to pick up survivors. I lived nearby and went home at lunch to watch the television coverage. Once the video was seen the absurdity of “picking up the survivors” was clearly apparent.
Later that day I rode with the Wisconsin Secretary of Transportation and his staff to a long scheduled public presentation on a transportation project in Waukesha. We set up the room, tested the microphones, and set out stacks of handouts for the public, and waited for the pubic to show up. No one did. They were all glued to their televisions watching the Challenger disaster’s aftermath. We waited 30 minutes, still no one showed, so we packed up and went to an upscale restaurant nearby. When I saw the menu - I knew there was nothing on it that would meet the reimbursement schedules for travel expenses. Someone at the table nudged me and pointed out how great it was to travel with the Secretary. He always picked up the tab and none of the usual spending constraints applied. So we enjoyed an upscale meal in a nearly empty restaurant. The few patrons who were there were mostly crowded into the bar area where a single television was located.
I was in the wardroom of a USN destroyer and someone said turn on the TV.
Damn. I remember the launches starting to get less and less press.
On my way to the dentist at LAFB in AZ.
News came over the radio.
I, too, worked as a stock-broker at that time, in Vancouver, B.C.
What I recall was the savage jest from the New York floor traders, “What does NASA stand for? - Need Another Seven Astronauts.”
That was within minutes. The sheer callousness stuck in my mind forever.
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