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Baby Step. But even with the hero out of sight, the voluntary hero-making mechanisms of the U.S. worked at full blast. A newly built school in Deerfield, Ill., was named for Shepard. A greeting card went on sale in Boston for admirers to send to the astronaut. Mayor Wagner of New York promised him the greatest ticker-tape welcome in New York's littered history. Mayor Poulson of Los Angeles immediately tried to outbid Wagner. A bar in Fort Wayne, Ind., treated its customers to champagne. Senators, judges, professors and generals burst into praise for Shepard. Said First Lady Jackie Kennedy: "I think it's wonderful." Senator Styles Bridges of New Hampshire was loudly proud that Shepard came from his state. The people of Derry, N.H., the astronaut's home town, organized their biggest parade ever. Marines, Navy, Air Force, and National Guard units marched in review. Planes zoomed overhead and showered confetti on the main street, schools were closed, and one overenthusiastic patriot suggested renaming Derry "Space-town, U.S.A." In Washington President Kennedy announced that the astronaut would get NASA's Distinguished Service Medal. When Shepard's handsome wife Louise heard what her husband had achieved, she beamed with pride and joy. "This is just a baby step," she said, "compared to what we will see."
Some of the celebrations were silly, some were self-serving, but U.S. prestige and self-confidence had made a real gain. The free world rang with praise. Official Iron Curtain comments were contemptuous, but many Russians seemed privately pleased. U.S. newsmen at a Moscow reception were warmly congratulated by their Russian colleagues.
From Japan to Britain, radios had reported the gathering tension at Canaveral, the blast-off and the brief, successful flight. Congratulatory messages poured in from the world's capitals. Few foreigners shared the cool scorn of the Parisian who growled: "The Americans are crazy, and the Russians are crazy, too." Nor did anyone west of the Iron Curtain echo Radio Prague, which called Shepard's flight "scientifically primitive." In Europe and the U.S. most space spectators agreed with Leonard J. Carter, secretary of the British Interplanetary Society: "The Americans had the right way of doing it. Unlike the Russians, they allowed us all to take part in the fantastic adventure. I was pretty well right up there in the capsule with him."
Brave Dreams Again. Even in the first flush of worldwide praise, U.S. spacemen did not deceive themselves. They still have a universe to conquer. The Russians are far in front of them, and even if Project Mercury puts a manned capsule into true orbit by the end of 1961 (a hopeful schedule that few scientists take seriously), there is always a chance that the Russians will make an even more spectacular shot.*
But Shepard's flight was nevertheless a great U.S. gain, a shot in the arm for U.S. enthusiasts. U.S. spacemen, and the businessmen, engineers, Congressmen and assorted civilians who support them, are once again dreaming brave dreams. Daring and hopeful projects are making the rounds: there is confident talk of nuclear rockets that will penetrate far into space, giant, solid-propellant boosters to lift great weights off the earth and permit manned flights far beyond the known world.