184 pounds of Sputnik coverage

Welcome, those of you arriving at Bartography via my What-nik?!? manuscript about Sputnik's effect on one boy (or my posting about the manuscript). Now for a true-life recollection:

"[A]t the appointed moment, Sputnik flew over Coalwood. If it had been God in his chariot that had flown over, I could not have been more impressed. It was awe-inspiring. Sputnik looked like a bright star that moved with such utter purpose that nothing could stop it; and I, in that moment, realized I wanted to be part of the movement into space."

That's Rocket Boys author Homer Hickam, quoted today as part of The New York Times' massive coverage of the 50th anniversary of Sputnik's launch. (The movie that commenter Bruce mentioned the other day, October Sky, is based on Hickam's book and a longtime favorite with my 8-year-old, S.)

The Times isn't the only outlet with a big Sputnik package. Check out Computerworld's Happy Birthday, Sputnik! (Thanks for the Internet) and nifty timeline. But of the two publications, only The Times pointed me to this:

Well, do we?

From today's Philadelphia Inquirer article, "Does U.S. need a new Sputnik?":

Today, amid a fast-shifting global economy, there are cries that once again the United States is behind, as measured by everything from test scores to technological advances. In 1966, one in five U.S. bachelor's degrees was awarded in math or science, according to federal education data; in 2004, that proportion had dropped to one in six.

There are those who argue we need a jolt to the system. Another Sputnik. ...

Sputnik led to a surge in spending on education programs such as the one [profiled scientist Lisa] Klein attended, and that continues today. In the 2004 fiscal year, 13 federal agencies spent $2.8 billion to encourage the pursuit of science and math careers, according to the Government Accountability Office. But there is little coordination among programs, and only half have been formally evaluated, the GAO found.

I'm all for a "jolt to the system," but I wonder whether another one based on federal spending would be just as shortlived. Seems to me that we'd be better off for longer if individual children simply had more opportunities -- that is, time -- to discover what fascinates them, and then to pursue that.

Sputnik, the sequel

The Amazon Bookstore's Blog has an interview with Nick Abadzis, the creator of the graphic novel Laika, about the first Earthling/Russian/dog in space, aboard Sputnik 2. An excerpt:

Amazon.com: Was there anything that didn't make it into the graphic novel because it just didn't fit?

Nick Abadzis: There was quite a bit, actually. I could have done with another hundred pages. But I'd taken a bit of time to write and thumbnail it (which I do at the same time) and when that stage was finished, the publisher and I realized that the 50th anniversary of the Sputnik launches was fast approaching. When I first pitched the idea to Mark Siegel at First Second, neither of us realized that it was so close. It felt like we needed to be a part of that, so I drew it extremely fast--two hundred pages in a little over eight months. It's an understatement to say that it was extremely hard work.

They were there

Since I posted my Sputnik manuscript a couple of weeks ago, I've been watching for reminiscences from folks who remember the original event and for celebrations of the upcoming 50th anniversary.

A pair of posts have caught my eye:

I Remember Sputnik, at Creative Think
"I was in fourth grade in Linworth, Ohio. The school principal came in (during our science period) and announced that he had just received word the Russians had just put up the first satellite. Surprise, confusion, and uncertainty. "Why weren't we first?" everyone wondered."

Book Review: Engineering for Every Kid, at National Space Society
"On October 4, 1957 I, along with millions of other kids was inspired by the launch of the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik I, by the Soviet Union. It seemed miraculous to see that tiny dot of light passing overhead, and realize that it was a machine that engineers had built. I wanted to be a part of that kind of achievement."

Another anniversary

Today marks 49 years and 11 months since the Soviets launched Sputnik. A few years ago, I predicted that major children's book publishers would make a fuss over the golden anniversary of the inauguration of the space race -- maybe not a fuss of Wright-brothers-in-2003 proportions, but something.

Well, I guessed wrong, but not before I'd done a few drafts of the sort of Sputnik picture book I thought my boys might like. A few editors had a look and passed, and once the time remaining until the anniversary date shrank to less than the picture book production cycle, I set my manuscript aside.

Until today, that is. Below, for your watershed-commemoration and reading pleasure, I've posted my full manuscript for What-nik?!? Enjoy, comrades!

What-nik?!?

When I woke up on October 4, 1957, all I could think about was professional wrestling.

[Poster on bedroom wall:

One night only! Friday, October 11! Come see Mr. Spectacular! The Bruiser Brothers! The Masked Whacker! And more!]

When I went to bed that night, all I could think about was Sputnik.

[Family gathered around the radio:

“What-nik?!?”

“He said ‘Sputnik.’”]

We heard about it after dinner. The Russians -- the Russians! -- had launched this ... thing into space, and it was sending back beeping signals.

It was called Sputnik. Sputnik weighed 184 pounds, and it was orbiting around and around the earth. Even over the United States.

[“Hey, 184 -- same as me.”

“Shhh, listen.”

Beep-beep-beep... beep-beep-beep]

Part of me was amazed, and part of me was scared. I wasn't sure which part was bigger.

Amazed because I didn't know anything about satellites or orbits or things that went “beep” in space. My dad knew a little, but he’d never tried to explain it before.

[“What makes Sputnik stay up there? Why doesn't it fly off into space or come crashing down?”

“Um, well... Gravity.”]

I was scared because the Russians were our enemy. We’d always heard that everything in the USA was better than in Russia. But we’d never launched a satellite, and now Russia had.

The worse an enemy is, the more names you have for them. We had a lot of names for the Russians.

[Russia
Soviet Union
Soviets
U.S.S.R.
Russkies
Communists
Commies
Reds
Pinkos]

The Russian leader once bragged, “We will bury you.” And if that wasn't frightening enough, at school we had to practice hiding under our desks in case a Russian bomb ever fell on us.

[“I’m not sure this will help.”]

The next day was Saturday. Instead of playing Mr. Spectacular vs. the Masked Whacker, my friends Ronnie and Dave and I talked about Sputnik.

[“Why don’t we just shoot it down?”

“Because it’s 560 miles up and going 18,000 miles an hour.”

“Do you think it’s got an A-bomb or an H-bomb?”

“Maybe a death ray.”

“Do you think it’s spying on us?”

“We aren't doing anything.”

“What does that ‘beep-beep-beep’ mean, anyway?”

“Someone told me that it’s really ‘deep-beep-beep.’”

“Well, what does it sound like to you?”

“‘Bleep-bleep-bleep.’”]

Most everyone took Sputnik seriously. Some people took it really seriously. My Uncle Earl, for one. My dad tried to be funny.

[“Not only are the blasted Russkies watching us, but you know what they’re gonna do next? Paint the moon red, just to show us they can!”

“Oh, come on. I weigh 184 pounds. How come no one’s scared of me?”]

All weekend, we could hear Sputnik beeping on the radio. We didn't know if it was doing anything else. The Russians said it wasn't, but who believed them?

Politicians told us not to panic. But then they gave us reasons why we should.

[“If the Soviets can launch a Sputnik into orbit, what can’t they do? What can’t they do?”]

I learned everything I could about Sputnik, but even with three TV channels and two newspapers, it wasn't much. At school on Monday, everyone was talking about flying saucers. I tried to set them straight.

[“It’s actually round. Like a beach ball with antennas.”]

Our teachers told us how hard school was in Russia, and that was why they had the first satellite. We got twice as much homework as usual.

My mom went out and bought every science book she could find so that I could catch up with Russian kids.

[“Mom, this is about earthworms.”

“You think rocket scientists don’t need to know about earthworms?”]

I began to worry about Friday’s wrestling matches. Uncle Earl was supposed to take me, but he said Sputnik’s beeps were a secret code, and he wouldn't rest until he’d broken it.

[“Uncle Earl?”

“I’ll be out when I’m finished!”

Beep-beep-beep...

“‘Boo hoo hoo?’”

Beep-beep-beep...

“‘Bwa ha ha?’”]

I heard you could actually see Sputnik before sunrise or after sunset if it passed overhead. So I got up early and ate dinner late so I could watch for it.

Sometimes my friends joined me.

[“I bet we’ll beat ‘em to Mars.”]

Sometimes my dad did.

[“I don’t see why all the fuss. After all...”

“I know, Dad -- you weigh 184 pounds, too.”]

But Sputnik must have been over some other part of the world whenever I was looking.

Friday evening came. Mom was playing bridge. Dad said he had to work late. I sat on the porch to wait for Uncle Earl, just in case.

And then I saw a bright orange glow begin to streak across the sky. It was speeding along, but the sky was so big, it seemed to take forever. At that moment, I wasn’t scared at all. I was just amazed. People had put that streak up there.

[“It’s beautiful. No one told me Sputnik was beautiful.”]

My uncle showed up a few minutes later.

[“Did you break the code?”

“No. It broke me. Let’s go see some rasslin’.”]

Just before the main event, the announcer spoke to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest tonight, joining us all the way from Moscow, Russia, in the U.S.S.R.”

The rest of the crowd booed, but I didn’t. The masked grappler looked familiar. And ridiculous.

“Weighing in at a mighty 184 pounds, it’s... Sputnikolai!”

The boos turned to laughter. Sputnikolai winked at me.

Now I really wasn’t scared.

The End