WHEREVER people could read, watch or hear the news, they followed the epic journey of Apollo 11 with fascination. Most Americans were jubilant, if sometimes at a loss for words. An elderly lady awaiting a flight at Chicago's O'Hare Airport simply stood up and sang America the Beautiful when she learned that the moon landing had succeeded. Said Robert Hutchins, the usually articulate head of the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions in Santa Barbara: "It's marvelous. What else can you say?" Author Paul Goodman, a frequent critic of U.S. institutions, wrote in the New York Times: "It's good to 'waste' money on such a moral and esthetic venture. These are our cathedrals." At Atlanta's Cathedral of St. Philip, the Episcopal priest who married Buzz and Joan Aldrin prayed: "Almighty King of the universe, God of glory, bless Neil, Edwin and Michael, who have ventured into measureless space for the enrichment of knowledge for all mankind."
Around the globe, others shared America's enthusiasm. In Paris, emergency electrical generators were turned on to keep TV tubes glowing through the night. In a crowded bar on Rome's Corso di Francia, one Italian disparaged the Apollo achievement—and was clobbered in a fist-swinging, bottle-throwing brawl. In Japan, Emperor Hirohito canceled a botanical outing in the woods to watch TV. In Germany and in Uruguay, police reported a sharp drop in crime while Eagle was resting on the moon. Said a West Berlin police sergeant: "I wish there were moon landings every night."
Soviet leaders have never played up the race to the moon in their domestic propaganda, and there was no evidence that Russians felt the same chagrin that bothered the U.S. when Sputnik 1 led the way into space. Russian TV provided only limited and delayed coverage of Apollo's flight. But President Nikolai Podgorny wired President Nixon after the splashdown: "Please convey our congratulations and best wishes to the courageous space pilots." Peking, on the other hand, attempted to jam all five of the Voice of America broadcasts in Chinese.
In Eastern Europe, ideology was cast aside. Russia's Luna 15 was virtually ignored, and Yugoslavia's Radio Zagreb pointedly emphasized the contrast between American candor and Soviet secrecy concerning space flights. Czechoslovakia issued special commemorative stamps, and a Hungarian television commentator talked of "amazing tasks" during the moon walk. Poles unveiled a soaring statue at the Cracow sports stadium in honor of Apollo's astronauts. Said Radio Warsaw: "Let them come back happily. Their defeat would be the defeat of all mankind."
Newspapers the world over strove to outdo one another. Never in its history had the New York Times used such large headline type. New Delhi's Statesman and the Montgomery (Ala.) Advertiser put large footsteps on their front pages. São Paulo's O Estado de São Paulo ran Astronaut Neil Armstrong's first words after stepping on the moon in nine languages. Rome's II Messaggero covered three-quarters of its front page with three words: "Luna—Primo Passo."