Video: Astronaut Discusses Science Fiction

I recently travelled down to NASA headquarters in Washington, D.C., to film a presentation by astronaut and U.S. Army Col. Timothy "T.J." Creamer. He was discussing his days onboard the International Space Station with an audience of about 40 people, all of whom follow his tweets from space. My shoot was for a piece being produced for a web site called Rocketboom.

The entire talk was fascinating, but my ears really perked up when he took a moment to discuss science fiction. Consider it: A real, live astronaut. Talking about science fiction. I'm amazed my head didn't explode. Since the bite never made it into the final Rocketboom piece, I got permission to post it here in the Attic. If you'd like to see it in glorious HD, click through to the YouTube page and select the highest resolution.



You know, I've interviewed a lot of famous people, a lot of powerful people, a lot of downright interesting people. And after all this time, I've really learned to keep my cool and remain professional whatever the situation. But standing in front of an astronaut -- and a really friendly, cool one, at that -- was pretty amazing, and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I came real close to becoming a blubbering fanboy. I held it together, but when we walked out of the shoot, I couldn't stop grinning and I'm pretty sure my correspondent was sick of me muttering under my breath, "So cool... so freakin' cool!"

You can check out the Rocketboom piece, which includes a short, but exclusive interview with Colonel Creamer, at rocketboom.com.

NASA broadcasted the entirety of the presentation live on their web site; I'm sure it's still archived there. Find it at NASA.gov.

Moon Man 001 (OK / 1960s / U.K. / 6 inches)

As part of my continuing celebration of the Apollo 11 moon landing, I thought I'd talk a little bit about the one and only toy in my collection with the word "moon" in its name. 

Truth: There's nothing very heroic looking about this British astronaut. He's both roly and poly, and his soft, yellow uniform makes him look like a giant, alien crumpet. He's a far cry from Dan Dare, the preeminent British space hero of the 1950s. 

Some collectors share my point of view, but not all. In fact, one of the collectors I respect the most, a man who helped make me the collector I am today, a man who also happens to be a beefy, tattooed, badass, chopper-riding, multiply-body-pierced, tougher-than-your-average-bear kind of dude, once told me that he absolutely loves the weird, geeky, little astronaut. Clearly it's a demonstration of how collecting is an intensely personal hobby, and each person's collection is governed by their own peculiar taste. We shouldn't judge each other... even if I did think my friend was nuts!

And I'll admit, the Moon Man has a cool action: It walks with a nice "step-over" motion while its head turns back and forth, as if scanning the horizon of an alien planet. Clever, cute, the kind of action that gives a toy some personality. But not enough to make me buy it, right? Right? 

Ah, but how often has it happened to other collectors: You're walking through a toy show, you're surfing through eBay, you're picking through an antique market, when all of a sudden you see that toy you hated so much (and, ahem, so vocally). Only now, with the piece right in front of you, it doesn't look quite so bad. "Hm," you think to yourself, "I never really noticed that before. Or that. Or the way it does that or that or especially that! You know, this toy's actually not that bad."

Which is, of course, what happened to me. I was at the Kane County Toy Show outside of Chicago when I came across a rare, silver variation of the Moon Man. Suddenly, I found myself taking another look, a closer look. I don't know what I saw that transformed the toy in my eyes, and maybe my tastes had just developed over the last few years of collecting different toys, but suddenly I found myself really wanting to take the astronaut home with me. 

My friend was there, and he saw the look in my eye. He of course took the opportunity to pester me about it. But I played it cool; I put the toy back on the table and moved on. He shrugged, thinking he'd misread me after all. I gave him a self-satisfied little grin and said something like, "That's what you get for thinking you can read me, sucka!" Of course, the real reason I put the toy down was that I'd spent all my money for the weekend. A show of willpower isn't tough when you're flat broke! 

Needless to say, I was hooked on the Moon Man. A few months later, a dealer I know had one on eBay, mint-in-box, for a really low starting price. I decided to throw a bid at it, and ended up winning the auction. A few months after that I finally told my friend about it. I think he's just about ready to stop saying "I told you so!"

How The Apollo Missions Redefined Space Toys

In July 20th, 1969, NASA's Apollo 11 mission first landed astronauts on the moon. To commemorate the 40th anniversary of this historic occasion, I asked collector and artist Karl Tate to show off some of the wonderful space toys that were directly inspired by NASA's efforts.

SPACE TOYS IN THE AGE OF SPACE

Article and Photos by Karl Tate

What had been pure fantasy for decades suddenly became reality in the mid-1960s with the dawn of "realistic" space ships. The whimsical lines of Buck Rogers' and Tom Corbett's interplanetary cruisers gave way to straight-sided cylinders, blunt cones, and weird insectoid shapes that were pure functionality and devoid of decoration.

Toy makers worked with reality as best they could. Many of the Sixties-era space toys retained a whiff of the fantasy of space travel, while staying true to the crisp lines of the new breed of space vessels. All these toys are of course derived from the American space program. The political climate would not have allowed Western children to play with representations of Soviet cosmonauts and vehicles!

MOON TRAVELER APOLLO-Z (Nomura, 1967)

This large (12-inches long) tin and plastic toy has bump-and-go action, lights at its front and rear, and clear plastic parts such as a nose cone through which three (somewhat nervous looking) lithographed astronauts can be seen.

But the toy's most remarkable feature is an, ahem, erection maneuver. The toy will stop, rear up at an impressive 45-degree angle, and then extend the command module nose cone away from the body on its own internal rod! This simulates the final operation of the Apollo mission, when the cylindrical Service Module is jettisoned, and the cone-shaped Command Module alone enters the Earth's atmosphere for splashdown and recovery.

Overall the toy is a fine representation of the Apollo spacecraft, with mostly correct proportions and impressive detailing. Even the four clusters of maneuvering rockets on the Service Module are present, molded realistically into clear plastic parts. Despite this attention to engineering accuracy, bright colors in the litho and plastic bring the toy to life.

The name "Apollo-Z" is something of a mystery to me. Apollos were given numeric rather than alphabetic names. The first manned launch (in 1967) was Apollo 7, so perhaps the "Z" represents the addition of a typographic stroke by someone unfamiliar with Arabic numerals.

EAGLE-1 LUNAR MODULE (DSK, 1960s)

This is the largest toy Lunar Module that was produced (7 x 7 x 9.5 inches). Mostly tin with some plastic parts, it came out around 1969 (evident from the references to "Apollo 11" and "Eagle," which were named as the first moon landing mission only in early 1969).

The toy has mystery action, whirling to and fro with the chromed double-dish antenna rotating on top (missing on mine). Lights flash and the front hatch pops open, revealing a chromed spacesuited astronaut. A second astronaut peers from the litho'ed module window.

Plastic landing legs and rocket thrusters complete the buglike craft. While it would never be mistaken for a realistic model, the DSK toy captures the quirky essence of the lunar lander's unique design.

SPACECRAFT APOLLO (Alps, late 1960s)

This tin-and-plastic rendition of the Apollo Command and Service Module is a bit smaller (9 inches) than the Apollo-Z. My example features an orange stripe around its midsection; another version of the toy features a band of red and white checkerboard toward the rear. Both decorations are typical of early NASA concept art for the vehicle.

The toy has a clear blue-plastic nose cone, through which three litho'ed astronauts can be seen in their launch couches. Spacecraft Apollo features bump and go action and flashing light behind the red plastic rocket engine at the rear. An elaborate antenna complex (similar to the AE-35 unit on spaceship Discovery in 2001: A Space Odyssey!) rotates on top.

GRUMMAN LUNAR MODULE CONTRACTOR MODEL (Precision Models, late 1960s)

Made for the Grumman Corporation, manufacturers of the Apollo lunar lander, these contractor models can be seen in NASA films, astronaut portraits, and even theatrical movies of the time. Several issues of these models were produced, to conform to the changing details of the evolving spacecraft.

Every facet of the complex structure is reproduced. The descent stage, with the four landing legs, separates so that the upper stage containing the astronauts can return to the orbiting command module for return to Earth. Composed mostly of plastic, the model features metal legs and struts.

Mine can be dated to the final configuration of the spacecraft but prior to the first moon landing in 1969. Later models included a congratulatory message referring to Apollo 11 on the base.

The model is a bit larger than commercially made plastic kits from Revell and Monogram that were available at the time. About About 7 inches high to top of highest antenna mast. Base is about 10 inches in diameter.

GEMINI SPACE CAPSULE (WES Toys, late Sixties)

This little (7.5 inches) WES toy is a perfect little model of the Gemini, complete with opening hatches and two removable astronauts. Friction driven wheels are the only thing making it a toy and not a replica.

The Gemini was a hot-rod of a space craft, a two seater that was the favorite of the astronauts who flew her. The program was a time-filler until the Apollo moon landing system came on line later in the decade. But Gemini was a proving ground for many crucial techniques, such as space walking, Earth-orbit rendezvous and the long-term space survival that would be needed for a two week lunar voyage.

Shooting Man From Mars (Irwin / 1952 / U.S. / 11 inches)

No vision of the future would be complete without a few space heroes to help keep those planetary colonies safe. With his ray guns, bubble-helmet, and spiffy uniform, the Shooting Man from Mars was the right guy for the job. Never mind his bright, freshly-scrubbed, child-like face -- this was a man of action!

I've always liked this toy; he captures the wide-eyed wonder of Fifties TV space-adventure shows like Tom Corbett: Space Cadet and Space Patrol. The Shooting Man from Mars, despite his violent title, has a naive, gee-wiz quality that often defined children's science fiction during that period. It inspired optimistic dreams about the future, dreams that included rockets to the moon, robot friends, and flying cars. (I'm still waiting for that last one, by the way.)

The Shooting Man from Mars was made of an early, brittle, cellulose plastic. It features a wind-up walking mechanism similar to the pin-walking mechanism found on many early robots. Instead of pins though, it uses two off-center wheels that move in and out of the toy's feet as they rotate. This moves the toy forward while also giving it a slight side-to-side wobble. At the same time, the arms move up and down.

The toy was available in two colors, a reddish orange body with a clear dome, and a much rarer yellow version with a green-tinted dome. Mine, which has a green dome, is a rare variation that probably resulted from someone in the factory not paying attention to which dome they were grabbing. 

The domes themselves were made from a cheap form of acrylic and often "spidered" with age, a process by which thin surface cracks appear vertically across the surface. Finding clean domes isn't difficult, and I'd normally have waited for one without any marks. However, the green dome is so striking, I just had to have it. In this case, aesthetics definitely trumped condition.

A final thought: The Shooting Man from Mars embodies some of the weird ideas that people in the Fifties had about the future. For all the optimism, there was an expectation -- among regular Joes and Jills -- that outer space would be a lot like the Wild West, and that astronauts, like the cowboys before them, would need a nice pair of pistols to defend the orbital homestead from marauding aliens, interstellar bandits, and rocket rustlers. Reality proved very different, though I'd argue no less exciting. We're not getting into fights with aliens, but the exploration and discoveries made by astronauts in space and scientists down on Earth have helped expand our view of the universe, and our place in it. 

Throw in a green bubble helmet and I'd call that just about perfect.