The Challenger exploded while I was flying to Toronto from NY to do a story about the smart professional Canadian childrens musicians Raffi, and the trio Sharon, Lois & Bram. Went right from airport for lunch with Raffi at a small diner near his office. "What a sad day for your country," he said. "I asked, "what happened?" and he pointed me to the little TV. That night I took Sharon, Lois & Bram to dinner at a trendy Toronto restaurant. We all drank vodka martinis. I was taken by this gesture of authenticity: These were grownups living grown-up lives, who happened to excel at folk music for children. An antidote to Smurfism in the USA.
We had one of those schools where the classroom walls were really just dividers that could be opened/closed to reconfigure the space as needed. On this day, all 3 were open, so we could crowd around one of those TVs strapped to an AV cart, which is now a meme. With Christa McAuliffe onboard, I think my teachers were as excited as we were (even if some of us just welcomed the idea of getting out of class for a bit).
After the explosion, no one really knew what to do. There was a bit of stunned silence before someone decided to keep up appearances, roll the TV away, and get on with business as usual. Sometimes I wonder what the chatter in the teacher's lounge was like that afternoon. It had to have been wild.
I'm sure it was. In my mom's school, where Cheryl McNair was a teacher, no one knew what to do or say. Obviously, she wasn't there, and I don't think she returned for the rest of the year.
Thanks for this, Glenn. I was in Peace Corps and only had nominal contact with news sources. Not until later the next day did I see what had happened. A local newspaper carried the story with that now iconic photograph on the front page. Those photographs of the Challenger exploding against the clear blue sky are simultaneously striking and tragic.
Simultaneously striking and tragic is the best way to describe the best news photos. One of the (many) things I miss about the Newseum in D.C. is the room of Pulitzer Prize winning photographs. I could stay in that room for hours.
What a day. I still remember the faces of family members and friends in the bleachers saying "What happened?" as they looked from the sky to the person next to them. Events like this fry the brain; you can hear a weird sizzle as you try to comprehend.
What a day, indeed. A story I've written and told before is of my father seeing JFK a few moments before he was assassinated in Dallas. He recalled it frequently, but I never knew the real story behind it until after he died, when I found a sheet of paper where he wrote the whole experience down. If you're curious, here it is: https://glenncook.substack.com/p/jfk-dallas-and-my-dad
You're right, of course, that those of us old enough do remember exactly where we were when we heard. That will be one of the defining moments, and memories, of my life. Thanks for the memories.
The start of the second semester of freshman year...I walked into the lounge on our dorm floor to find everyone staring at the TV. I asked what happened. Someone said, "The space shuttle blew up," and I said "yeah right" before turning to actually look at the TV. Spent the rest of the day there.
The Challenger exploded while I was flying to Toronto from NY to do a story about the smart professional Canadian childrens musicians Raffi, and the trio Sharon, Lois & Bram. Went right from airport for lunch with Raffi at a small diner near his office. "What a sad day for your country," he said. "I asked, "what happened?" and he pointed me to the little TV. That night I took Sharon, Lois & Bram to dinner at a trendy Toronto restaurant. We all drank vodka martinis. I was taken by this gesture of authenticity: These were grownups living grown-up lives, who happened to excel at folk music for children. An antidote to Smurfism in the USA.
That’s a great memory, Wayne! Thanks for sharing.
We had one of those schools where the classroom walls were really just dividers that could be opened/closed to reconfigure the space as needed. On this day, all 3 were open, so we could crowd around one of those TVs strapped to an AV cart, which is now a meme. With Christa McAuliffe onboard, I think my teachers were as excited as we were (even if some of us just welcomed the idea of getting out of class for a bit).
After the explosion, no one really knew what to do. There was a bit of stunned silence before someone decided to keep up appearances, roll the TV away, and get on with business as usual. Sometimes I wonder what the chatter in the teacher's lounge was like that afternoon. It had to have been wild.
I'm sure it was. In my mom's school, where Cheryl McNair was a teacher, no one knew what to do or say. Obviously, she wasn't there, and I don't think she returned for the rest of the year.
Thanks for this, Glenn. I was in Peace Corps and only had nominal contact with news sources. Not until later the next day did I see what had happened. A local newspaper carried the story with that now iconic photograph on the front page. Those photographs of the Challenger exploding against the clear blue sky are simultaneously striking and tragic.
Simultaneously striking and tragic is the best way to describe the best news photos. One of the (many) things I miss about the Newseum in D.C. is the room of Pulitzer Prize winning photographs. I could stay in that room for hours.
What a day. I still remember the faces of family members and friends in the bleachers saying "What happened?" as they looked from the sky to the person next to them. Events like this fry the brain; you can hear a weird sizzle as you try to comprehend.
What a day, indeed. A story I've written and told before is of my father seeing JFK a few moments before he was assassinated in Dallas. He recalled it frequently, but I never knew the real story behind it until after he died, when I found a sheet of paper where he wrote the whole experience down. If you're curious, here it is: https://glenncook.substack.com/p/jfk-dallas-and-my-dad
Life is strange, isn't it? I wonder if it was Shiner.
Doubtful, sadly. He was in college and admittedly did not have great taste.
That made me laugh!
Glenn, back then I kept all of your articles. It may be packed away here someplace.
You're right, of course, that those of us old enough do remember exactly where we were when we heard. That will be one of the defining moments, and memories, of my life. Thanks for the memories.
You are more than welcome. Where were you that day?
The start of the second semester of freshman year...I walked into the lounge on our dorm floor to find everyone staring at the TV. I asked what happened. Someone said, "The space shuttle blew up," and I said "yeah right" before turning to actually look at the TV. Spent the rest of the day there.