![]() Let's look at that elevation view of the whole setup, Space Shuttle and all, one more time, and this time we're going to need to try and understand what we're looking at. The place is deeply complicated, so get ready, ok? On where everything sits in relation to everything else. We'd better get some kind of handle on where we are. ![]() There's lots going on in this image, and we're going to talk about it, but first we'd better get our bearings. Once they got close, I ran over to the elevator, ground level on the FSS, and went up to what appears to be perhaps the 240 or maybe the 260 foot platform elevation level and walked over to the southeast corner where I could get a good angle looking down at the OMBUU now almost in contact with the RSS, and grabbed this frame. ![]() It just was, and that was that.Īlmost there. Nobody else on that whole pad was given official permission to just wander around, snapping pictures of Unimaginable Wonders of the World. It was so far beyond belief that I still, to this day, have trouble understanding my insanely good luck in being able to do this. From this one, they flew to the fucking MOON, and from this one, they would fly the fucking Space Shuttle! It was almost more than I could bear. Here's a guy who's been released from work for the next hour or two by his boss, with a camera in his hands, and a whole fucking launch pad to explore and take pictures of. Maybe stop and think about that for a bit. The tiller was in my hands, and I could steer in any direction I wanted to. Once my boss, Dick Walls (who was like a second father to me, and who I will never be able to thank enough, and who caused my entire life to take a radical turn for the better) allowed me to leave the field trailer when things were slow (which was surprisingly often), I became the captain of my own vessel. It was great! One of the very best parts of my whole goddamned multi-year experience out there. I'm permitted, so please take your fucking scowl down the road somewhere, 'cause I'm not gonna stop doing what I'm fucking permitted to do. ![]() The fucking permit gave me full photographic access to anything and anywhere I could get to with the badge (which itself had clearance for a surprisingly broad range of locations, almost all of which I had no official reason to be visiting) I was wearing. On the permit it said "restricted and unrestricted areas." In plain English, that means: The Whole Goddamned Space Center. I had a fucking NASA-issued camera permit. ![]() The camera was a kind of get-out-of-jail-free card, and also served as my hall pass for going to an awful lot of out-of-the-way places that you might not ordinarily be expected, or even allowed, to go, and I employed that shit to the fullest, every chance I got. Top right photograph is Wade Ivey (owner of Ivey Steel) and Rink Chiles (Ivey Steel ironworker general foreman, both facing away from the camera) and a gentleman who's name eludes me who worked for Olson Electric.Īnd, despite all the dislike for the camera I was carrying around, and disapproval of what I was doing with it coming from all quarters, it was really cool being able to wander around all over those towers with that camera and grab shots, in case anybody is wondering what that might have been like. Space Shuttle Launch Complex 39-B Construction Photos ![]()
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