CATHEDRALS IN THE SKY

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. Sao Paulo's O Estado de Sao 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."

Special editions came off presses from Taiwan to Fleet Street like confetti. Records for circulation, promotion, mass staffing, and words written were broken everywhere. At week's end the Miami News delivered to its readers a staggering 16-page, 33,000-word narrative describing the Apollo 11 mission. In New York, the Times devoted 18 pages to moon news. Even with a press run increased by 75,000, the Times literally disappeared from newsstands Monday morning--some copies going for upwards of $1 on the black market. Both the New York Post and Daily News datelined landing-day issues "Moonday, July 21."

Almost alone in the world, the main land Chinese press virtually ignored the moon landing, though one Hong Kong Communist daily headlined: THE AMERICAN PEOPLE PRAY: GOD GIVE ME A PIECE OF BREAD, DON'T GIVE ME THE MOON. On the other hand, Italy's Paese Sera, the unofficial Communist evening paper, devoted twelve pages to Apollo and ran a complimentary picture of Richard Nixon. In Paris, even the Communist paper L'Humanite called the moon walk a "dream from the depths of time realized"--although it managed to keep the words United States and American off its front page.

As with any overwhelming event, the fallout was widespread and sometimes offbeat. Scores of children born last week were named "Apollo" or "Moon," "Tranquillity" or "Luna." The Siam Motor Works offered scholarships from primary school through university for the Thai children born nearest the exact moments of lunar landing and splashdown. The Berlin Zoo christened three wildcat cubs born during the moon walk Neil, Buzz and Mike. For a "moon happening" in Vienna, a bakery produced a 300-lb., 6-ft. cake decorated with marzipan craters.

Bits of Franglais

Parisians complained that it took longer for them to place calls to friends in the provinces than for President Nixon to reach the astronauts on the moon. It took no time whatever, though, for new bits of Franglais to crop up, such as "Voila la go." Trader Vic's restaurants around the U.S. and in London served a tiny American flag in every cocktail; Harolds Club in Reno offered Moonshots of vodka and apple juice served in a glass shaped like Apollo's command and service module.

Other entrepreneurs hastened to make the most of the moon shine. One Los Angeles breadmaker placed a TV commercial extolling "Helms--the bread on the moon." A New York supermarket chain ran a picture of the moon--"238,000 miles from Waldbaum's"--and beneath it advertised extra-large cantaloupes at three for 89-c-. A Long Island harness-racing track accompanied a picture of an astronaut stepping off the base of an LM mockup with the advice: "Hey, finish it later--Roosevelt Raceway opens tomorrow night." TWA and Pan Am eagerly accepted a spurt of new applications for the first commercial flights to the moon; one recent booking was made by California's Governor Ronald Reagan. Medals, pennants and assorted trinkets suddenly developed a moon motif--and found hordes of eager customers.

Bitter Message

What disenchantment there was continued to come mainly from the young and the blacks. In Los Angeles, David Walzer, 13, spoke condescendingly of his elders' enthusiasm: "When they grew up, they didn't even have jet planes. It's a more amazing concept to them." Said Gary Newton, 19, a sophomore at Maine's Colby College: "The astronauts' achievement was great, but I'm sorry that our country doesn't put as much money into solving the problems of war, poverty and sickness." Outside the Manned Space Center, black demonstrators carried the bitter message: "Good luck from the hungry children of Houston."

Some complaints were more sentimental. For centuries, the Japanese have celebrated the annual Night of the Full Moon by composing haiku. In Tokyo, one poetaster objected: "Now that the poesy of it is all gone, what can one do --commit hara-kiri?" In Vietnamese legend, the moon is represented by Hang-Nga, a beautiful maiden; "Now she is no longer a virgin," a Saigon intellectual lamented. Tel Aviv's Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren offered a 20th century amendment to a 12th century Hebrew prayer on the eve of the new moon. For 800 years, it has read: "As I dance in front of you and yet cannot touch you, so all my enemies should be unable to harm me." The rabbi suggested that the line be changed to: "As I dance in front of you and yet do not touch you ..."

For all the carping, San Francisco's Mayor Joseph Alioto probably spoke for everyone except the most stubborn critics of the U.S., both at home and abroad, when he composed these lines for an ecumenical service in Grace Cathedral, atop Nob Hill:

It is fitting that this nation mobilized its wealth and its technology for a lunar landing. Our nation, to remain vital, must expand the horizons of knowledge and discovery. At the same time, she must continue to expand the horizons of hope for all Americans so that each may live with dignity and justice. There are 22 million poor who don't ask for the moon; just for a decent home, a decent job, a decent school and a decent neighborhood. The moon walk is a majestic milestone of man's quest for the stars, and it is a dramatic reminder of how far we have yet to go in the heavens as well as here on earth.

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