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| Buzz Aldrin: Venturing Forward | Sep '09 |
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| By Clayton Moore |
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 | | Courtesy of National Air and Space Museum | | | Today, Buzz Aldrin’s life-preserving spacesuit from his historic mission resides in the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. His moon boots, however, remain on the lunar surface. | |
A man isn't defined by numbers. Yet sometimes they serve as a useful guide to the accomplishments one bold explorer might achieve during his short time on Earth and beyond.
Consider, for example, the number of Americans who have flown to the moon. The average man on the street might be hard-pressed to name the figure even in this data-rich day and age. Just 24 people have orbited our nearest planetary neighbor. Imagine—fewer people have flown to the moon than fill the typical high school classroom today.
Half as many have actually walked on the lunar surface—only12 extraordinary astronauts. It took the efforts of hundreds of thousands of dedicated scientists, engineers and astronauts to put a man on the moon and return him safely as President John F. Kennedy intended.
Delving into the relatively short history of the U.S. space program always brings to the surface three unforgettable lunar explorers. Because of the importance of their mission to all mankind, their names weren't even inscribed on their official mission patches. But the whole world knows Cmdr. Neil Armstrong, Command Module Pilot Michael Collins and Lunar Module Pilot Edwin Aldrin, Jr.—the crew of Apollo 11.
Granted, calling the name "Edwin" would probably not elicit much of a response from the guy widely considered to have the coolest name of all the astronauts. You can call him "Buzz."
Astoundingly, walking on the moon barely tops the very long list of successes and challenges that have defined Buzz Aldrin's life as a pilot, military man, scientist, astronaut and one of the country's most forward-thinking futurists.
Keep crunching the numbers and a remarkable portrait appears.
Two is the number of Russian-built MiG fighters that Aldrin shot down during more than 60 air combat missions he flew in the Korean War. Aldrin has also been to space not once, but twice, the first time as the pilot of Gemini 12, the very last mission for that program. His lowest point probably came when he was three miles beneath the surface of the ocean, exploring the watery grave of the HMS Titanic.
Along the way, the former astronaut has rubbed elbows with movie stars, driven more than 100 miles per hour in the Toyota Grand Prix, invented new ways for man to go back to space, rapped with Snoop Dogg, and earned the moniker he trademarked for use in his business ventures: "Buzz Aldrin, Rocket Hero™."
 | | Courtesy National Aeronautics and Space Admin | | | One of the most famous images of Buzz Aldrin in history is this image called the “visor shot” in which photographer Neil Armstrong and the American flag are reflected in Aldrin’s helmet. | |
The number of books he's written? A bookshelf's worth, including two novels, two children's books, his 1973 autobiography Return To Earth, which altered widely-held impressions of the astronaut corps, and his riveting new memoir Magnificent Desolation, which reveals his unique perspective on the U.S. space program, his personal struggles and his perspective on the anniversary of Apollo 11's historic achievement.
Child of the Moon
Given his parentage, it's no surprise that Buzz Aldrin would grow up to be an aviator and a gifted scientist, although his academic beginnings were humble. The future moonwalker was born on Jan. 20, 1930, in a small hospital in Montclair, N.J.
In a twist of fate, the future astronaut's mother was named Marion Gladys Moon, a fact Aldrin would later obscure during his early years with NASA for fear he might be perceived as trying to procure favored status. The daughter of a Methodist minister, Aldrin's mother was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman with an independent streak that unfortunately came with a predisposition towards depression.
Wielding significant influence over Aldrin's future was his father, Edwin Eugene Aldrin, Sr., a career military man whose duty had included serving as an aide to Gen. Billy Mitchell and acting as inspector general of the 13th Air Force in the South Pacific. The family patriarch had more than a passing interest in the science of flight, having been acquainted with aviation pioneers like Orville Wright, Gen. Jimmy Doolittle and the renown rocket scientist Robert Goddard.
In July 1929, the elder Aldrin became the civilian aviation manager for Standard Oil Company. He was one of the country's first flying executives. When the Hindenburg exploded on May 6, 1937, at the nearby Lakehurst Naval Air Station, young Aldrin impressed his friends by recalling that his father had flown on the airship and predicted its demise.
 | | Courtesy National Aeronautics and Space Admin | | | This official astronaut portrait of Buzz Aldrin, taken on Jan. 9, 1967, shows both the genial charm and physicality of Apollo 11’s lunar module pilot. | |
It was Aldrin's older sister Fay Ann, born just a year and a half before her little brother, who would give him his famous nickname. Unable to articulate the word "brother," Fay Ann's rendering of the word came out "Buzzer," and eventually Aldrin stuck with the famous shortened version, "Buzz."
Aldrin took his first airplane ride when he was just two years old, his father flying young Buzz and the family's housekeeper, Alice, to Florida in Standard Oil's Lockheed Vega.
"Airplanes were always all around me as part of my father's involvement," Aldrin said. "My father knew all of these early aviators, and I was a teenager during the progress of aviation during World War II. I was quite intrigued with the capabilities of airplanes, and I definitely wanted to fly from an early age."
As a boy, he showed an early interest in all things mechanical, designing mouse cages and other contraptions and doing the things that boys do—scrapping with friends, watching serial reels of "The Lone Ranger" at the local theater and collecting rocks. Though initially an average student, Aldrin became a dedicated scholar as he reached junior high school. Soon his natural athleticism began to appear as well, and his strong interest in sports like swimming, pole vaulting and team activities heightened an innate competitiveness that would serve him well in his military career.
In 1946, he graduated from Montclair High School. Though his father pressed his son to attend the Naval Academy, Aldrin set his sights on the elite U.S. Military Academy after being impressed by a young cadet. After sitting for his exams, he was accepted to West Point, where he arrived on July 1, 1947.
MiG fighter
Aldrin embraced both the rigors and the regimental order of military life. At the end of his plebe year, Aldrin ranked first in his class, and he found the educational system at the academy was a good fit for his personality and skills.
However, he continued to struggle to earn his father's approval. When he graduated third in his class in June 1951, his father inquired which cadets had placed ahead of his son. Father and son also briefly disagreed about Aldrin's future direction—his father encouraged him to apply for the prestigious Rhodes Scholarship, and while Aldrin did interview for the program, he wasn't enthused and was relieved when he wasn't accepted.
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | The last of the Gemini missions would also be one of its most successful thanks to the efforts of its crew. From left, pilot Buzz Aldrin and command pilot Jim Lovell. | |
Instead, Aldrin joined the Air Force, and because he had earned a Bachelor of Science degree already, was commissioned as a second lieutenant. He accomplished his flight training at Bartow Air Force Base in Florida, and his parents were at Brian Air Force base in Texas when their 21-year-old son earned his wings as a fighter pilot. With his father lobbying Aldrin to focus on multi-engine aircraft, Buzz arranged for one of his instructors to take his father up in a T-33 trainer in order to demonstrate the thrill and dexterity of the new jet aircraft.
"I wasn't enamored with being in control of a lumbering bomber going in a straight line," Aldrin said. "It wasn't exactly the path my father would have suggested, but I wanted the maneuverability and the aggressiveness that I could possess in a fighter jet. It was clear when I was going through pilot training that the careers of fighter pilots attracted me, and I wanted to actively pursue air combat."
On Dec. 26, 1952, Aldrin arrived at Suwon Air Base 20 miles south of Seoul, South Korea, to join the 16th Fighter Squadron of the 51st Interceptor Wing. Their mission was to regularly patrol the air all the way north to the Yalu River, an enemy-infested parcel that the pilots respectfully called "MiG Alley" for its formidable concentration of Soviet-built MiG 15 fighters. Aldrin flew 66 missions over the war zone in North American Aviation's F-86 Sabre, a transonic fighter jet that put its pilots at a disadvantage due to the MiG's ability to fly 2,000 feet higher.
In what Aldrin calls, "A rather inglorious engagement," the pilot had his first combat encounter with a MiG on May 14, 1953. While flying south of the Yalu River, Aldrin surprised an enemy combatant, downing the MiG and forcing its pilot to eject. Aldrin achieved his first bit of fame soon after when frames from his gun camera appeared in the June 8, 1953, issue of Life magazine. For his actions, Aldrin was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.
If his first encounter with the enemy was somewhat uneventful, his next dogfight more than made up for it. On June 7, 1953, Aldrin was flying a mission supporting Sabre jets from the 39th "Yellow Tail" Squadron, which were a faster model than Aldrin's F-86E. Suddenly alone north of the Yalu, Aldrin pushed his aircraft to nearly Mach 1, jumping on a MiG on the tail of the Tigers. As he relates in the accompanying excerpt from his new book, Aldrin found himself braced in a risky "scissors" maneuver with the enemy jet:
"It may look like an aerial ballet but it is deadly serious," he wrote in Return to Earth. "I had the feeling I had a tiger by the tail and couldn't let go."
For downing the second MiG, the Air Force presented the young pilot with an Oak Leaf Cluster. Aldrin had one more clash with a MiG before a cease-fire was negotiated in July 1953, but the enemy plane was out of range, and he spent the rest of his time in Korea flying escort missions down the country's coast.
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | In November 1966, Buzz Aldrin took a record spacewalk of two hours and 20 minutes, tethered to the capsule of the Gemini 12 spacecraft during the last of the Gemini missions. | |
Dr. Rendezvous
Returning briefly to America, Aldrin was assigned to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada as a gunnery instructor, completed officer candidate school and briefly assisted the dean of the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. On Dec. 29, 1954, he married Joan Archer, a tall, smart and talented actress he had been seeing for some time. Joan accompanied her husband as he spent the next three years in Bitburg, Germany, assigned to the 36th Fighter Day Wing. While the newlyweds were there, they had their first son, Mike, soon to be followed by siblings Janice and Andrew.
In Germany, Aldrin flew F-100 Super Sabres while supporting the Air Force's efforts to fight the Cold War. Aldrin was on alert in a plane loaded with nuclear weapons on Oct. 4, 1957, when a small satellite called Sputnik kicked off the space race.
Aldrin's keen interest in the science of flight eventually led him to the academic world, a decision that would radically impact his career during the 1960s. He decided to apply to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, was accepted, and in June 1959, he moved his growing family to Cambridge. At the university, Aldrin methodically chose a field of study he knew would be applicable to the nascent field of astronautics.
"I really exerted my own career choice then," Aldrin said. "It's what brought me into further education at MIT and led me to choosing a very specific subject for my thesis. That decision eventually led me to my career as an astronaut."
His thesis was titled "Line of Sight Guidance Techniques for Manned Orbital Rendezvous" and focused on the techniques necessary for human-guided rendezvous between space vehicles. While he was researching it, a Russian cosmonaut named Yuri Gagarin became the first human to orbit the earth in April 1961.
"MIT was known for their expertise in guidance, navigation and astronomical knowledge of orbits in space," Aldrin said. "I felt that this science was an extension of maneuvering spacecraft. Intercepting something in space is a real challenge. I knew how to do it in the air, but doing it in space is very complex and technical. I thought maybe I could help boil it down to the essentials and have a human being truly participate and not just be a slave to what a computer says that guidance should be."
Although he experienced some resistance from his thesis committee, Aldrin earned his Doctorate of Science degree from MIT in 1963. He dedicated his thesis to, "The crew of this country's present and future space programs. If only I could join them in their exciting endeavors!"
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | Three of the most famous astronauts in history pose for their official NASA portrait: Cmdr. Neil Armstrong, Command Module Pilot Michael Collins and Lunar Module Pilot Buzz Aldrin. | |
"I wanted to pursue this very exciting career field at NASA, but it looked like I was excluded from it because I wasn't trained as a test pilot," Aldrin said. "Fortunately, I managed to work my way around it."
He soon got his wish. After applying to enter NASA with the second group of astronaut candidates (along with his good friend Ed White, who was later killed in the fire of Apollo 1, and test pilot Neil Armstrong), Maj. Buzz Aldrin was selected to join the third group of astronauts and was the first one with an earned doctorate. The newest 14 astronauts were announced to the public on Oct. 17, 1963.
Conceived as the intermediate step between the Mercury and Apollo program, Project Gemini ultimately flew 12 successful missions, including two unmanned test flights.
An unfortunate accident moved Aldrin up the ladder of the Gemini Program when the original Gemini 9 prime crew members—Elliot See and Charles Bassett—were killed when their T-38 Talon crashed at Lambert Field in 1966. Because Aldrin was slotted for the back-up crew for Gemini 9A (alongside fellow astronaut Jim Lovell), this tragedy moved him up the sequence to become a member of the prime crew for Gemini 12, the last of the Gemini missions.
Because of his academic achievements, Aldrin was pegged by some team members as "Dr. Rendezvous," although it wasn't always meant as a compliment. After improvising an exercise that coordinated a rendezvous maneuver during the flight of Gemini 9A, Aldrin was confirmed as pilot for Gemini 12. The highlight of the mission was a planned spacewalk that became a coup for a program that had experienced difficulty demonstrating the effectiveness of extra-vehicular activity (EVA).
Recalling the mission, Aldrin says that he had to literally and figuratively submerged himself in preparations, traveling to Baltimore to test revolutionary underwater training techniques that later became standard mission training for astronauts preparing to walk in space.
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | On July 16, 1969, a Saturn V rocket loaded with more than 2,000 tons of liquid oxygen and hydrogen propellant launched Apollo 11 on its historic journey toward the moon. | |
"It wasn't like I announced, 'Hey, let's take the suit and go swimming,'" Aldrin said. "Fortunately, other experts had been looking at it, and my experience as a diver convinced me of its validity and the ways in which it might help. I was in a swimming pool when Gemini 11 lifted off, which continued to have difficulty with EVA operations. So my training solidified a method of instruction that turned out to be pretty significant to my own mission."
On Nov. 11, 1966, Lovell and Aldrin blasted off on the 18th manned American spaceflight. Their four-day mission encompassed many scientific experiments as well as three spacewalks that demonstrated once and for all that EVA was feasible.
Aldrin also had the chance to demonstrate his command of rendezvous science when the guidance radar required to dock with the Agena target vehicle went down. Aldrin, who came prepared, calculated the coordinates in his head with only a little help from his trusty Pickett slide rule.
The highlights of the flight were Aldrin's tethered spacewalks, an event he says helped prepare him for walking on the moon.
"One contributes to the other," he said. "We had to support the human being separately from the aircraft in order to float around in close proximity. We had to figure out ways to support the person outside the spacecraft, which is essential if you're going to travel away from the craft on the surface of another object like the moon or an asteroid. We also had to be self-contained with very reliable life support equipment, communications and cooling methods. There are a lot of needs that have to be met in order to operate efficiently for several hours outside of a spacecraft."
He achieved a record success for an EVA experience, staying outside the capsule for two hours and 20 minutes, during which he photographed stars and drank in the spectacle before him. "Here I was in my own dream world, a world removed from the world as I knew it," Aldrin recalled in Return To Earth. "My heart rate was slow and I was not at all tired. For me, rest was a waste. I felt that if I went to sleep or even closed my eyes for longer than a blink I might wake up and it would be over."
By the time the mission ended, Aldrin had set the record for EVA with a total of five hours and 26 minutes in space. On Nov. 15, Gemini 12 splashed down successfully in the Atlantic, and the crew returned to Cape Canaveral to celebrate the end of the program.
The next NASA program would make Aldrin one of the most celebrated astronauts on Earth and give him the ride of his life.
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | Neil Armstrong took this photograph of Buzz Aldrin in the interior of the Eagle lunar module on July 20, 1969, the day they landed on the moon. | |
Magnificent Desolation
Writing about Buzz Aldrin's journey to the moon is a feat unto itself, and one that has been chronicled in hundreds of books and films as well as Aldrin's two autobiographies and the fantastic British documentary "In The Shadow of the Moon," in which Aldrin reflects again on what it was like to land on the lunar surface.
The simple facts will always be in the history books, beginning with President John F. Kennedy's dramatic speech on May 25, 1961, in which he said, "I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal—before this decade is out—of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to Earth."
On Monday, Jan. 6, 1969, the three men selected to crew Apollo 11 were called into the office of original Mercury Seven astronaut Deke Slayton, who was then serving as the director of flight crew operations. "You're it," Slayton said. With those two words, Aldrin was on his way to the moon.
The crew endured thousands of hours of training and preparation, which were at times so exhausting that Aldrin once found himself forced to check the compass on his T-38 to see if he was heading for Houston or Cape Canaveral. Aldrin gives enormous credit to the hundreds of thousands of people that made his flight possible.
"The team that sent us to the moon was unparalleled in its youth, vigor, attention to detail and depth of training," Aldrin said. "They were totally absorbed in their assistance of a crew that was as far away as you can get. It wasn't just the guys in the control room, but also in facilities throughout the world where they checked out the details of any problem that might crop up. The number 400,000 people has been mentioned a lot, but that doesn't take into account all the people of America and all the people of the world who were sharing in our achievements. It was absolutely a marvel."
One of the points of contention that has received superfluous attention over the years was NASA's selection of which astronaut would go first.
"I wasn't that anxious to be a member of the crew that took most of the plaudits for being the first to step on the surface of the moon," Aldrin said, "but there are positions and points of view that have to be presented. That's what I was doing while NASA was trying to make up its mind about who would go out first, because they really didn't know who was going. I felt I needed to share my thoughts about the training and workload the two of us had to undertake in order to carry out our assignments successfully. I wasn't looking for any more attention and would just as soon have been on a later flight. Now that these events have come to pass, I wouldn't trade what happened to me for anything in the world."
On July 16, 1969, Aldrin, Armstrong and Collins were launched from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on top of Apollo 11's Saturn V rocket. On July 20, Armstrong and Aldrin became the first men on the moon, with Cmdr. Armstrong famously making the first step on another world.
While the whole planet is aware of their impressive feat, sometimes the details of history get overwhelmed by the larger story. Many of those stories have thankfully been captured by Aldrin in Magnificent Desolation.
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | Buzz Aldrin salutes shortly after he and Armstrong planted this American flag, which Aldrin still believes is the best-looking flag of the six that were placed during the Apollo missions. | |
In the book, he reveals that he didn't find out until 15 years later that he wasn't NASA's first choice to pilot the lunar module—Apollo 8 Cmdr. Frank Borman was offered to head up the first lunar landing and turned it down.
At just after 4:00 Eastern Time on July 20, 1969—after narrowly avoiding a dangerous boulder field and landing with less than 20 seconds worth of fuel remaining—the Eagle lunar module touched down on the moon. While Armstrong is often cited as having spoken the first words from the moon with his declaration, "Houston, Tranquility base here. The Eagle has landed," it was Aldrin, focusing on his technical responsibilities, who first broadcast, "Contact light! Okay, engine stop."
In a rare show of emotion, Aldrin and Armstrong took a minute to shake hands and congratulate each other on a job well done. During their first hours on the lunar terrain, Aldrin, a man of strong faith, quietly received communion by using a home communion kit given to him by his pastor.
Less than 15 minutes after Armstrong took his "giant leap for mankind," Aldrin was out of the hatch being photographed by his crewmate and reminding himself not to lock the door on the Eagle, which wasn't equipped with an external handle.
The burden of being first is heavy, but the responsibility for a successful EVA was shared by these two men, alone on the moon for the first time. During their technical debriefing, Armstrong remarked, "The two-man operation is good because all the help that each man can give the other one is money in the bank."
Full of goosebumps and excitement, Aldrin was able to later laugh about his other first.
"Neil might have been the first man to step on the moon, but I was the first to pee in his pants on the moon," he wrote in Return to Earth. "I was, of course, linked up with the urine-collecting device, but it was a unique feeling."
Aldrin was mesmerized with the vastness before him. Pausing to get his bearings, Aldrin made his famous impromptu description of what he saw before him: "Beautiful. Beautiful, magnificent desolation."
"The view that we occupied was just utter desolation—lifeless, with shades of grey and a black sky, no air at all," Aldrin remembered. "I will grant you that we had great visibility, but there was nothing to see except the horizon curving away and our jewel of a planet, high in the sky, where everyone else resided except for the three of us at that very moment. Think of the thousands and millions of years that the moon has been sterile there, with no living object sharing its desolation, and then there we were."
Soon Aldrin set off bounding across the moon's surface weighing just 60 pounds, compared to an earth weight with all his gear of more than 300 pounds. For all the physical activity, the astronaut's heart rate never rose above 125 beats per minute.
"I don't think there is such a thing as running," he told NASA on July 31, 1969. "It's a lope, and it's very hard to just walk. You break into this lope very soon as you begin to speed up."
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | The Apollo 11 astronauts spent 21 days in quarantine in Houston, Texas,where Buzz Aldrin finally got to speak to his wife, Joan, on July 27, 1969. | |
After a few hours on the lunar surface, the two astronauts were preparing to leave when Armstrong asked, "Hey Buzz. Did you forget something?" In his haste, Aldrin nearly forgotten to leave behind an important reminder of their journey—a small pouch containing a patch from Apollo 1, two medals recognizing the first Russian cosmonauts, a tiny silicon disc etched with goodwill messages from around the world and a gold pin representing the olive branch of peace.
The lift-off from the moon was tense for the entire Apollo 11 team but particularly so for Aldrin, who was responsible for reconnecting Eagle with the Columbia command module. The astronauts had also found upon their return to the Eagle that a circuit breaker switch that armed the engine had broken off. After a serious huddle at Mission Control, Aldrin simply pushed the circuit breaker back into place with a felt-tip pen. Today, the broken switch and the pen remain two of Aldrin's prized possessions.
"Yes, it's a piece of 'absconded-with' government property," Aldrin said. "Commanders have symbolically been given the hand controller of their spacecraft after it returns, but of course, we left the lunar module in orbit around the moon."
As Apollo 11 prepared to leave the moon, Aldrin's sense of humor remained intact as he said, upon being cleared for takeoff, "Roger. Understood. We're number one on the runway," catching Mission Control off-guard.
"You know, the definition of humor is to take a normal situation, throw in an absurdity and then act as if it's normal," Aldrin said. "When you're able to do that twice in the same sentence, you've really accomplished something. To say that we were number one on the runway ... Well, there wasn't anybody else up there and there sure as hell was no runway."
Two hours later, they reconnected with Michael Collins in Columbia, and three days later, Apollo 11 returned safely to Earth, just as Kennedy had envisioned.
On the last night before landing, the astronauts made one final live television broadcast. Aldrin shared his thoughts with a world that eagerly awaited their brave return.
 | | Courtesy of the U.S. Air Force | | | Lending his expertise to today’s military, here Aldrin pilots an A-10 Thunderbolt II simulator while Capt. Kory Klismith, a pilot in the 25th Fighter Squadron, observes. | |
"We've come to the conclusion that this has been far more than three men on a voyage to the moon," Aldrin said. "It's more than the efforts of a government and industry team—more, even, than the efforts of one nation. We feel that this stands as a symbol of the insatiable curiosity of all mankind to explore the unknown."
For all the wonder they experienced, Armstrong and Aldrin had the enormous responsibility of making sure the first moon landing was a safe one, and they were both busy and serious about their encounter. Aldrin later described his attitude to interviewers Douglas MacKinnon and Joseph Baldanza in their book Footprints. "When I went, I was very concerned about doing the right thing while I was there and not making a spectacle of it," he said. "That's the difference between being on the first mission and being on another one."
Unfortunately, Aldrin was about to find that he had more than one rough landing in store for him.
The aftermath
The crew of Apollo 11 returned home to smothering, worldwide attention. Fortunately, NASA policy dictated the astronauts spend 21 days in quarantined isolation at NASA's Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston, where someone hung a sign on the door that read "Please don't feed the animals." It not only gave the astronauts time to reflect on their achievements, but also gave them time to mentally prepare for the overwhelming public roles about to be thrust upon them.
For two years, NASA paraded the Apollo 11 astronauts in front the public to highlight the space agency's achievements, ranging from ticker tape parades to a party at the Houston Astrodome hosted by Frank Sinatra and an address in front of a joint session of Congress, where Aldrin said, "This should give all of us hope and inspiration to overcome some of the more difficult problems here on Earth. The Apollo lesson is that national goals can be met where there is a strong enough will to do so."
Soon, Aldrin was forced to decide what was next, and the change wasn't easy for him.
"Of course the first landing was going to attract a lot of attention worldwide," Aldrin said. "That wasn't exactly what I was looking for after the flight—to be ensnared in public appearances and sharing and speeches and reports for the rest of my life. It was a transition that was rather challenging and not made easy by other circumstances."
 | | Courtesy NASA | | | Aldrin has continued to educate himself about both the triumphs and tragedies of spaceflight, listening here to the presentation by the Columbia accident investigation board regarding the loss of that space shuttle. | |
In February 1970, he was approached by Gen. Jimmy Doolittle (a friend of his father's) to serve on the board of directors for the Mutual of Omaha insurance company. In April, he was present for the infamous launch of Apollo 13, and with Neil Armstrong, he went to the home of Blanch Lovell, Jim Lovell's mother, to comfort her during the crisis.
On Jan. 14, 1971, Aldrin announced that he was leaving NASA to serve as commandant at the U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base in California, although his first choice was a position at the U.S. Air Force Academy that had slipped through his fingers.
It was around this time that personal problems began to plague the former military aviator. The lack of rigorous structure that he formerly enjoyed during missions contributed to a depression that began to take its toll on his health, career and marriage. In March 1972, Aldrin retired from active military duty after logging countless flight hours and nearly 300 hours in space.
In 1973, Aldrin published an autobiography, Return to Earth, which came as a wake-up call to a public that had put astronauts on a pedestal since Mercury Seven. In it, Aldrin chronicled his space exploits and also revealed his struggle with clinical depression and marital infidelity.
"I don't know that Return to Earth shocked people all that much," Aldrin said. "I don't regret at all writing it, but I thought at the time it was a complete description of the problems with which I was dealing. I found that wasn't the case. The threat of alcoholism and depression go hand in hand."
In late 1974, Aldrin started divorce proceedings, and his father died of a heart attack at the end of the year. By the following year, his autobiography was slated for development as an ABC television movie. Aldrin, meanwhile, had admitted himself to a treatment center on Aug. 7, 1975.
One of his few visitors was Academy Award-winning actor Cliff Robertson, who portrayed Aldrin in the movie adaptation that aired in May 1976. "I told the producers that I'd like to meet the man, but they wouldn't say where he was," Robertson said. "When I arrived at the treatment center, I realized he was there for medical reasons. The first time I ever saw this man who had walked on the moon, he was weaving a leather purse. It was a bit of?a shock."
While making the film, Robertson and Aldrin became friends, bonding over their love of aviation and the resolute spirit they have in common.
 | | Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum | | | Every five years, the crew of Apollo 11 reassembles to meet with the President of the United States, most recently during the 35th Anniversary of their flight. From left Michael Collins, President George W. Bush, Neil Armstrong & Buzz Aldrin. | |
"I did as much delving into his personal life as I could," Robertson said. "He was very cooperative and open. Buzz is extremely bright, and he has overcome a lot of obstacles in his life. As you would expect from a man of his educational background, he doesn't assume anything, and he's a stickler for details. I tried to bring his intensity and forbearance to the screen, and the movie was very well-received."
As they became friends, Robertson would take the former astronaut on flights in one of his 1930's era de Havilland Tiger Moths, which was a new experience for the veteran pilot.
"He had never flown an open-cockpit aircraft because all of his experience had been in jets," Robertson recalled. "He said it was a lot different than flying those F-86 Sabres or a T-38. We were in this old bird trying to land against a crosswind, but if you can land one of these birds, you can land anything. Buzz flew it, but he never landed it because he didn't want to hurt my airplane. He's very considerate."
There were still some bumps in the road as Aldrin continued to struggle with his demons and direction in life. In 1975, he stumbled into a brief second marriage with interior decorator Beverly Van Ziles and even worked as a Cadillac salesman in Beverly Hills for a short time in 1977. But by the end of the decade, he had embraced sobriety and had started to think about men going back to the moon and far beyond.
"I've grown from the challenges of life before and after going to the moon and benefited significantly from putting my life back together again," Aldrin said. "These weren't miscues or mistakes. It was just a hard progression from a very structured life into an unstructured one. I became a much more functional person than I might have been had I not gone through this process of recovery."
The further adventures of Buzz Aldrin
 | | Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum | | | In 1997, some of the former Apollo astronauts toured the new Apollo/Saturn V Center at the Kennedy Space Center. From left are Lois Aldrin, Buzz Aldrin, Apollo 9 pilot Russell Schweickart, Apollo 17 Cmdr. Gene Cernan,and Apollo 10 Cmdr. Thomas Stafford. | |
By 1982, Aldrin's outlook had improved significantly, and he started demonstrating the scientific prowess that had earned him so much success. Two years later, he published an editorial in the Los Angeles Times titled "Let's Return to the moon for Good." He began working on a concept now known as the "Aldrin Cycler" in which a spacecraft would cycle from the Earth to Mars on a recurring basis.
"I think it does have an application—not immediately, but I was trying to make use of flyby opportunities at Mars to drop people off and pick them up," Aldrin said. "It's not the best way to start out, but eventually it could be a good way to take people there in a short transit time and return them safely."
1988 was another big year for Aldrin, as the former astronaut legally changed his name to "Buzz," founded his private company Starcraft Enterprises, and on Valentine's Day, married Lois Driggs Cannon of Arizona, who would come to improve Aldrin's perspective on just about everything. "She's a vivacious Mighty Mouse," Aldrin said. "In traveling with her, we've made great acquaintances in all walks of life in cities around the world. If it were just me, I would have been focusing on technical issues and space-oriented people. At the same time, I've been able to expose Lois to the wider world in a way that has broadened her experience as well."
Every so often, Aldrin reunites with his crewmates of Apollo 11, most publicly at a reunion at the White House every five years, but their relationship remains coolly professional.
"We travel on different pathways," Aldrin said. "It's not by my choice, but they seem to want to do individual events and operate in their own directions."
In the past two decades, Aldrin has found plenty of adventures to pursue on his own. He published two novels with science fiction author John Barnes—Encounter at Tiber and The Return. In 1996, he became part of a joint expedition to venture 12,500 feet below the surface of the ocean to explore the wreck of the Titanic, and in 1998, he journeyed to the North Pole on a Russian nuclear icebreaker with broadcaster Hugh Downs.
He's gone on no less than six zero-gravity flights to help promote space tourism, participated in celebrity skiing events, driven Grand Prix racers at Long Beach, and flew an F-16 with the 22nd Fighter Squadron in Germany. This winter Aldrin, a long-time member of New York's famous Explorers' Club, may join an expedition to drive to the South Pole.
 | | Courtesy of Random House | | | At the age of 79, Aldrin shows no signs of slowing down, publishing a second volume of his memoirs this year and continuing to champion man’s exploration of space. | |
"I think doing these things contributes to the rounding out of a person who is curious and wants to share in every chance that is available and promote these opportunities for others," Aldrin said. "That's just a few of the reasons I jump at the adventures that are offered to me."
Aldrin has chosen to be one of the most visible Apollo astronauts, which has led to an unmistakable presence in the world of pop culture as well. The popular animated character Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story was named after Aldrin by fans at Pixar, and he's the model for the "Moonman" character made even more famous by the early days of MTV.
Aldrin has also played himself in numerous television and film appearances, including In The Shadow of the Moon, The Simpsons, NUMB3RS, the animated film Fly Me to the Moon, an episode of Punky Brewster dealing with the Challenger explosion, and as part of a bizarre engagement on the comedy series Ali G where Aldrin rose to the occasion, matching wits with improvisational comedian Sacha Baron Cohen.
Of course, being a public figure isn't always fun and games, as Aldrin found out in 2002 when he was provoked outside of a Beverly Hills hotel by filmmaker Bart Sibrel, who claimed Aldrin's moon landing was a hoax. After a tirade of insults, Aldrin reared back and punched his offender. No charges were filed, but video of the incident prompted a fresh wave of support for the then 72-year-old Aldrin.
More recently, Aldrin crossed a bold new frontier when he recorded, of all things, a rap single called "Rocket Experience" with producer Quincy Jones to benefit the SpaceShare Foundation. A video for the song has become one of the most popular items on Will Ferrell's video Web site "Funny or Die."
"When things get serious, sometimes it helps to come up with something that makes you chuckle," Aldrin said. "That was kind of my motivation in taking a serious position—my desire to tell people what space is all about—and doing a rap song that combines my experiences with help from some experts like Snoop Dogg and Talib Kweli. We had a lot of fun making it. It takes people out of their normal environment by sharing space with rap and rap with space."
All of Aldrin's adventures are driven by an innate desire to explore the world, a trait he believes is unique to the human experience.
"It's curiosity that leads to new and greater achievements," he said. "I think the inventiveness of our physical capabilities and our technical achievements in space, in the oceans, under the oceans, on the surface and in the air are all indicative of our progress as human beings."
Venturing forward
In more serious venues, Aldrin has been a tremendous proponent of future space endeavors, and in Magnificent Desolation, he not only looks back on his own rocket experiences but also lays out his vision for the future of spaceflight.
"Magnificent Desolation is for people who are curious about the inner actions of a person who came along at the right time to be given wonderful opportunities and then deals with the toll that they exacted on his life," Aldrin says. "It's a celebration of events in the past, but it's also a celebration of the promises our future can bring to us. America took the world to the moon in the past, and America can take the world to Mars at some point in the future."
 | | Courtesy of Random House | | | For the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11, Aldrin has reflected on his experiences in space in a new memoir, Magnificent Desolation, which is named after his first impressions of the moon. | |
Aldrin is serious about promoting mankind's journey to further points in the galaxy. In 2002, he was appointed to the Commission on the Future of the U.S. Aerospace Industry by President George W. Bush and later founded the SpaceShare Foundation, an organization intended to advance efforts toward civilian space travel, as well as Starcraft Boosters, a rocket design firm.
More recently, Aldrin has been a vocal critic of NASA's plans to scuttle the space shuttle and replace it with the booster-powered Orion spacecraft.
"I think the American people have felt the progress of coming back from space to land on a runway in the Space Shuttle, and I would like to think we would not want to go backwards for the next 20 years, landing in the ocean with a parachute," Aldrin said. "Taking people to space in a capsule, just because it's the least expensive way, may not be furthering the national interests of progress."
The former astronaut also thinks there are more efficient ways to return to the moon than NASA's current plans, which would find Americans on the surface in 2020, right around the same time China expects to make its landing.
"I think with our nation's capability and other nations' interest in going back to the moon, we don't need to repeat the activity again," Aldrin said. "We do have the experience, and there's no reason we can't cooperate and assist other nations in reaching the moon while putting our resources into traveling further and for longer durations. If we do these things, we can reach out to Phobos, one of the Martian moons, settle it and use its capabilities to explore Mars. That would lead to the next big step, which is establishing a growing settlement on the planet Mars. Historically, that's a big, big deal. I think it could be very inspiring to the country."
Aldrin has long been a proponent of civilian-led efforts to return to space, such as the Ansari X Prize, which challenged competitors to put the first civilian vehicle into orbit, and the Google Lunar X Prize, a $30-million competition to put a robot on the moon.
"There are limitations as to what the government can do in sharing the experiences leading up to space flight," Aldrin said. "The private sector seems to be the best way to begin. The expenses involved may be better accomplished by the entrepreneurship of the private sector. At the same time, there are certainly limits on the return on investment for the entrepreneur. Therefore, I think we need a significant improvement in the partnership between government and the private sector."
 | | Photo By Paul Lips | | | In January 2007, Aldrin attended the annual Living Legends of Aviation event in Los Angeles, Calif., alongside other aviation luminaries like Bob Hoover, Chuck Yeager and Cliff Robertson. | |
For the very near future, Aldrin will join with others around in the world in celebrating the 40th anniversary of his own historic mission to the moon. In addition to a tour of Europe, Aldrin will attend events at the Kennedy Space Center in Houston, the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., and the USS Hornet Museum in Alameda, Calif. Following the anniversary, Buzz and Lois will celebrate the 40th anniversary of Aldrin's long quarantine, this time in the French Riviera.
"It's nice to pioneer anything new and be recognized as a part of that effort," Aldrin said. "The entire space program was doing just that in our early years. We were doing new and different things on each mission, and they all contributed to the wealth of knowledge and experience that we needed in order to make that first landing."
Aldrin will also use the upcoming attention to focus the world on the exciting business of space exploration, an enterprise that has engaged him for most of his life.
"I think we need that enthusiasm about space more than ever," Aldrin said. "It's not a ho-hum business, and it's one in which I'm pretty experienced. This is the spirit of the past trying to project a rejuvenation of progressive activities for the future." Over time, the phrase that has come to be most associated with Aldrin carries the most weight in his own life.
"'Magnificent desolation' has come to mean, for me, the magnificence of human achievement and progress," he said. "We have journeyed far and occupied, if only briefly, that object in the sky that we've been looking at for hundreds of thousands of years. That's the magnificence that we achieved together."
Asked what message he would like to send to his well-wishers around the world 40 years after he walked on the moon, Buzz Aldrin pauses and considers the question, trying to sum up a life he never could have imagined.
"I've always like the combination of the two words—venturing outward," Aldrin said. "That's really what exemplifies curiosity—getting out of your own mind. If you're dwelling on your own misfortunes, you need to venture outward on your personal journey. The world needs to venture outward to satisfy our curiosity, our need to achieve and learn more about our place in this magnificent universe."
An excerpt from Magnificent Desolation
Before Buzz Aldrin became one of America's most famous astronauts, he was a second lieutenant assigned to the 16th Fighter Squadron of the 51st Interceptor Wing at Suwon Air Base south of Seoul, South Korea.
In this thrilling excerpt from his new book, Magnificent Desolation, Aldrin describes his second encounter with a Soviet-built MiG-15 as the young jet fighter flying an F-86 Sabre clashed with an enemy pilot in head-to-head air combat.
Just then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a fighter jet angled across my sight from right to left, climbing towards the Tigers. The plane was not one of ours. I tried to remain calm, knowing that if he kept going, he'd fly right into my gun sight. But if I didn't get him, he'd be on the Tigers' tail. Not good.
I pulled back on my controls, trying to slow down before he saw me, but I was too late. The MiG pilot spotted me and banked hard in my direction; he was coming after me. I quickly realized as I saw him turn that as fast as I was moving, I was going to fly right past him, and then the faster, lighter MiG would be sweeping around behind me, precisely where I didn't want him to be. My only hope of avoiding being hit was a high-G right turn that would send me cutting across him as he banked to the left. It was a dangerous move that pilots called a "scissors," in which two opposing aircraft keep crossing back and forth, each trying to turn more sharply than the other, hoping to get the advantage.
The MiG and I ripped through one set of scissor turns and banked so steeply on our sides that our wing tips nearly pointed straight down towards the ground. In my peripheral vision, I saw the enemy runway flash by, then trees and green fields below. But I had no time for sight-seeing. The MiG pilot had rolled off to avoid a high ridge below us. This was my chance. It might be my only chance, since I was flying so close to the enemy base. Enemy anti-aircraft fire filled the air around us.
I tried to fire, but the aiming dot on my gun sights jammed, probably due to the violent twists and turns I'd been putting the plane through. With my left wing tip still pointing towards the Earth, I used my plane's nose as a sight and pressed hard on my trigger, firing a short burst from my .50 caliber machine guns. I saw something spark on the MiG. I rolled off my wing back to a position parallel to the ground, and slammed the throttle of the F-86 wide open so I could shoot across the ridge behind him. I saw the MiG in front of me, in a steep right turn. One of us was going down. I fired while he was still climbing and saw the tracers sparking across his wing. Don't let him go! Smoke billowed from his wing. The MiG rolled out of the turn and dove. As he did, I fired two more rapid bursts of ammunition. The enemy plane's nose came up as my shots struck and his plane looked as though it was momentarily suspended in the air as he stalled out.
I saw the canopy over his head pop open and the flash of his ejection flare. The pilot sailed out of the plane and was gone.
Reprinted from the book Magnificent Desolation by Buzz Aldrin with Ken Abraham. Copyright © 2009 by Buzz Aldrin with Ken Abraham. Published by Harmony Books, a division of Random House, Inc.
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