Everyone recognizes that the Apollo 11
flight was a gigantic scientific success, but less known
is that the lunar flight was a big boost for the political
standing of the United States. In fact, the government
specifically targeted the Third World for a massive public
relations campaign.
At the time, July 1969, worldwide television links did not
exist. There were networks in Latin America, but these did
not receive signals from the United States. Washington
officials wanted to make sure that all of Latin America
witnessed the moon landing.
The officials took a big chance. Had the Apollo 11 mission
been a disaster, most of the world would be watching. As
it turned out, even a life-long communist cheered the
landing.
I happened to be in Venezuela in 1969. I remember spending
an oppressively hot day at the new Maracaibo airport that
was nothing more than a concrete runway and a 6-by-10-foot
shed. The airport would not go into service for six months
more. But U.S. Air Force pilots received permission to
land there.
The strip now is called La Chinita International Airport.
When I was there, we thought the perfect name would be
Downtown Hades. At 235 feet elevation, with a bright blue,
cloudless tropical sky and blistering heat, we few
reporters huddled in the shadow of the hut.
The new airport certainly was needed because the older
airport closer to the Venezuelan city was the scene of a
major passenger jet disaster four months earlier. The
cause was an over-optimistic airline pilot, an overweight
Viasa aircraft, a short runway and the blistering heat.
We were awaiting the arrival of two U.S. C-130 Hercules
aircraft that were carrying the satellite station that
would connect Latin American television to the United
States for the first time. After the first craft landed,
the pilot provided wind and weather information to his
colleagues who arrived about 20 minutes later.
The cargo was among many that the U.S. government was
distributing throughout the world to make sure live
coverage of the moon landing was broadly available even in
places with lagging technology.
Two weeks later just before noon July 16 my wife, Sharon,
and I were standing among many Venezuelans on the sidewalk
in front of the U.S. Centro Venezolano-Americano cultural
center in the Las Mercedes sector of Caracas. Center
workers had wheeled a cart and television set to the front
door for all to see the Apollo 11 liftoff.
Their reaction may sound like a cliché, but the spectators
expressed shock that the Saturn V rocket took off
from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida at exactly the
time officials had set. Venezuelans are as blasé about
exact time as are Costa Ricans.
Four days later the entire staff of the English-language
Daily Journal in Caracas huddled in the newsroom in the
black and white light of a television. I had purchased a
bottle of scotch to celebrate the landing or to ease my
pain if something went wrong.
The landing was slick with Neil Armstrong and lunar module
pilot Buzz Aldrin putting the craft where the landing had
been planned. My wife was especially pleased because she
had worked on creating the trainer for the lunar module.
As Armstrong made his giant leap for mankind, I cracked
open the bottle. Someone produced a stack of those little
conical paper cups used at water fountains, and the entire
staff, mostly Venezuelans, joined in a toast.
The employees who worked in the printing department of the
daily newspaper were refugees from Spain who had battled
unsuccessfully the forces of Francisco Franco along with
the Spanish government, communists, anarchists and union
members. The work force maintained its military hierarchy.
The Linotype operator known as Don Victor was the
sergeant. Everyone else deferred to him even though some
workers were already the second generation.
We wondered how an avowed leftist would react to the great
success of the capitalistic United States. Don Victor
stood up, summoned the office boy, gave him a wad of cash
and sent him scurrying to buy yet another bottle of
scotch.
Coincidentally, today, the Cinco de Julio, is Venezuelan
Independence Day, marking the decision in 1811 to cut
links with the Spanish crown. With the situation
deteriorating in the country every day, I often wonder how
my fellow workers have faired. Certainly they do not work
at the newspaper. The Daily Journal folded in 2008 after
circulation plunged from 20,000 to 1,000 a day and despite
becoming an ally of President Hugo Chávez.
The newspaper has an impressive legacy because hundreds of
U.S., Latin American and European newspeople worked there
since its start in 1945 and added foreign experience and
understanding to their resumes. In fact, A.M. Costa Rica
continues that tradition.
Published in A.M. Costa Rica July 5, 2019.
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