Press Release

NASA Propulsion Guru Robert Sackheim Reflects on Past, Looks to Future

By SpaceRef Editor
July 7, 2003
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40 YEARS LATER, NASA PROPULSION GURU ROBERT SACKHEIM
WOULDN’T TRADE HIS CHOSEN PROFESSION FOR ANYTHING

There is nothing small about Bob Sackheim. And even less that is ordinary.

Contemplating his desk-stacked high with engineering texts, vehicle
schematics, scale models of various spacecraft, and other paraphernalia
befitting the office of a leading NASA space propulsion engineer-one
imagines the ease with which even the hardiest civil servant could disappear
beneath all that paperwork.

But Sackheim isn’t your typical civil servant. The assistant center director
and chief engineer for space propulsion at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight
Center in Huntsville, Ala., Sackheim is a burly, ruddy-cheeked,
6-foot-4-inch force of nature, whose cliff-like brow crashes down,
alarmingly, as he ponders the clutter of books and papers.

“I’d clean it up,” he says, and suddenly that rocky brow lifts once more. He
breaks into a self-deprecating chuckle. “But then I’d never be able to find
anything.”

He sits, and the jumble, not the man, is diminished. He grins, waves at the
mess. “Here it is-the upshot of 40 years’ obsession with space propulsion.”

The upshot is far greater than that. From his office at the Marshall Center,
Robert L. Sackheim supervises all NASA space propulsion research and
development activities-from Space Shuttle propulsion elements and
conventional rockets, to innovative kerosene and liquid oxygen engines
intended to launch next-generation spacecraft to orbit, to alternative
propulsion technologies meant to carry them deep into the Solar System and
beyond. In the 1980s, he wrote the book-in fact, the entire curriculum-on
spacecraft design for the University of California in Los Angeles, and he
continues to teach aerospace engineering classes today, at the University of
Alabama in Huntsville. He has authored more than 150 technical papers and
contributed to four books on rocket propulsion. He holds eight patents in
spacecraft propulsion and control systems technologies.

In the 40-plus-year history of the Marshall Center, Sackheim is only its
third employee ever to be elected to the prestigious National Academy of
Engineering, for his contributions to space and missile propulsion
technology and programs, and he holds a slew of other awards and accolades
from NASA, from the U.S. academic and aerospace communities, and from
organizations and colleagues worldwide.

One doesn’t come this far without accruing a lot of paperwork. And a lot of
stories.

The call of the engineer

Perhaps the least romantic of Sackheim’s tales is the manner in which he
caught the space bug that would shape the course of his life. No Hollywood
clichés here. No open field, no telescope, no small boy with a Heinlein
paperback in hand and visions of Mars in his head-Sackheim is a native of
New York City, where the vast starscape was dimmed by the bright lights of
the Big Apple. And by the time the Soviet Union rocked the world by
launching Sputnik in 1957, Sackheim was a sophomore at the University of
Virginia in Charlottesville, where he was too busy pursuing a chemical
engineering degree-the most promising new field of that period, he
remembers-to take much notice of the coming space race.

But like many of his classmates, Sackheim’s education keyed on his Reserve
Officer’s Training Corps (ROTC) scholarship. In 1961, after obtaining his
master’s degree in chemical engineering from Columbia University in New
York, Sackheim was commissioned as a lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force,
assigned to the Air Force Research and Development Launch Crew stationed in
Complex 15 at Cape Canaveral, Fla.

When Sackheim reported for duty, his whole life took an abrupt turn-straight
upward.

“I had a job all lined once I finished my four year stint,” he says. “Union
Carbide in Charleston, W.Va., a great job. But once I arrived at Cape
Canaveral, everything changed. I realized what I was being tasked to do, and
I just flipped. It was tremendous. I remember working 36 hours straight
once, early on-loading and launching a Titan II rocket. After that, I never
strayed [from this field] again.”

During his years at the Cape, Sackheim served as chief of the Titan II
Propulsion Section. He also became integrally involved in Gemini, the
successor to the Mercury manned space program. Sackheim led development and
flight-testing of Gemini propulsion systems, preparing to send America’s
second wave of astronauts into space.

In 1964, at the end of his tour of duty, he left the Air Force-without
complaint. “If you stayed in, it was because you wanted to be a professional
soldier,” Sackheim says. “I wanted to be a professional engineer. No match.”

Taking up Kennedy’s challenge

By that time, the call of space-and President Kennedy’s challenge to the
nation to put an American on the Moon by decade’s end-had seized him
irrevocably. The Union Carbide job was ancient history. Sackheim went to
work for Space Technology Laboratories (STL), a small but rapidly expanding
company in Redondo Beach, Calif.

But Sackheim decided to leave the human element of spaceflight-and the
furious, high-profile work of the Apollo program to land Americans on the
Moon-to others. His primary fascination remained the hardware and propulsion
systems necessary to hurl tons of metal into the sky and across the empty
gulfs of space. Let others ponder matters of payloads and destinations; for
him, the key element of Kennedy’s challenge was the vessel. The means of
flight.

“I was 28 years old, and there I was, project manager for Mariner’s Mars
Propulsion Subsystem,” Sackheim recalls, still marveling. The Mariner
program was a perfect fit. Intended to bolster national interest in
America’s spaceflight endeavors, Mariner was NASA’s first effort to launch
automated probes to Mars. Mariner 4, launched in November 1964, obtained and
transmitted the first-ever close-range images of Mars in July 1965. Mariners
6 and 7, launched just weeks apart in early 1969, scrutinized the Red
Planet’s atmospheric composition, pressure, density and temperature-laying
the groundwork for research necessary to enable future missions, including
potential crewed voyages being planned by NASA and its partners today.

Sackheim’s contributions led to quick advancement within the organization-by
now called TRW Corp. and burgeoning into an international leader in the
automotive, aviation and aerospace industries-including senior management
roles in TRW’s product engineering department and hardware engineering
laboratory.

Rescuing NASA’s voice in the sky

TRW and NASA were fortunate as well, especially in April 1983 during STS-6,
the first flight of Space Shuttle Challenger. Its primary payload, Tracking
and Data Relay Satellite 1, or TDRS-1, was a unique new asset, a
high-powered communications satellite intended to permit easier
communication between NASA and its orbiting hardware, including the Shuttle
itself. Its successful deployment would nix the Agency’s reliance on
multiple, low-orbit communication satellites and relay stations around the
world.

But when TDRS-1 was deployed, a motor failed during its climb to
geosynchronous orbit, sending the $100 million craft into a fearsome
spin-180 revolutions per second and 9,000 miles short of its mark.

Sackheim spent the next 45 days of his life figuring out how to first get
the satellite to stop spinning, and then to proceed to its correct position
in geosynchronous orbit-22,500 miles up. “It was quite a challenge,” he
says, “getting a signal to the satellite to override its sequence and gain
control, then stopping the spin without draining the thermal batteries or
causing the thrusters to overheat.” He and his team worked around the clock,
even after others suggested they give up the satellite for lost.

They solved the problem, and guided TDRS-1 into its proper orbit. “Twenty
years later, that satellite is still working,” Sackheim says proudly.

Sackheim later served TRW as propulsion manager for the Orbital Maneuvering
Vehicle project, begun in 1986 and intended to yield a short-range “space
tugboat” that would ferry payloads to and from the Space Shuttle and
orbiting satellites. His last role at TRW-from 1993 to 1999-was manager of
the propulsion systems center in TRW’s Space and Technology Division, where
he was responsible for design, development and testing of high energy
chemical lasers, materials technologies, and combustion and fluid system
products.

Inspiring the next generation of explorers

During those years, Sackheim also created and taught a professional-level
propulsion engineering course on spacecraft design and propulsion for UCLA’s
respected aerospace engineering program.

“I enjoy teaching,” he says. “One of the best ways to learn something is to
teach. And I’m delighted that UCLA is still offering that class today.”
Taught by one of Sackheim’s former students, as a matter of fact-a legacy
that offers him the same deep sense of accomplishment he gets from his own
individual achievements in the field.

“When you get to a certain age, what else is there?” he says. “When I think
of all the things that were done for me by my own mentors and teachers over
the years, all the people who guided and coached me, I have to give
something back.

“Teaching, passing on knowledge, is an immensely rewarding way to do that,”
he adds.

Joining the NASA team

Most engineers would have been content to retire after 35 years with the
same company and so many academic and industry achievements under his belt.
But in 1999, a former colleague at TRW named Art Stephenson, who had just
been tapped to assume the directorship of the Marshall Space Flight Center,
approached Sackheim about coming to work for him in “Rocket
City”-Huntsville, Ala., home to the nation’s original rocket research think
tank and still a key leader in NASA’s space propulsion R&D.

Sackheim took him up on the offer. He and his wife of 40 years, Babette,
moved from California to Huntsville, where Sackheim joined the Marshall
Center as assistant director and chief engineer for space propulsion.

The chief draw, even 35 years after his initial romance with rocket
propulsion, was the work.

“It was the chance to have an impact on things I felt were important to the
country and to the space program,” he says. “A chance to try to regain the
momentum we had in the 1960s, to restore that excitement to the culture.
Yeah, there are days when I beat my head against the wall. But I haven’t
given up. I can’t.”

Sharing NASA’s spaceflight mission

Today, Sackheim still balances practical research and his NASA duties with
teaching and writing about his chosen occupation.

“People are leaving the profession,” he says, “and we’re not doing enough to
replace them, to stimulate science and technology training at the student
level. We’ve got to rekindle young people’s interest. We’ve got to be
inspirational.” He continues the effort himself-holding forth on the subject
of aerospace propulsion each semester at the University of Alabama in
Huntsville. He is also co-authoring a new book on designing launch vehicles
and space transportation systems, which he expects to see published in 2004.

When it comes to rekindling that same interest among older Americans,
Sackheim brusquely dismisses the jaded criticisms of naysayers and media
pundits, pointing out the marvels the Agency has accomplished in the past
four decades.

“Go back to the Apollo era, point out its astonishing success, and people
will invariably say we’ll never accomplish anything like that again,”
Sackheim says. “Why not? Why can’t we? Look at the International Space
Station. It’s one of the modern marvels of engineering. Built all over the
world, integrated for the first time in space-and it all works. People are
up there living in it, 250 miles above the Earth’s surface. We ought to be
celebrating that!”

That cliff-like brow drops again, brooding. Sackheim is no political slouch;
after years of budget wrangling, he knows the arguments for exploring space
will never be as indisputable as the mathematical laws that prove the
feasibility of doing so. He sighs, waves out his window at the monolithic
test facilities and assembly structures that rise from the foliage across
the Marshall campus. Some of them verified the capability of the Saturn V
rocket engines that lifted men to the Moon. Others were used to integrate
propulsion elements of the fledgling Space Shuttle prior to its inaugural
leap to orbit.

“This country has always progressed in direct relationship to the technology
advances that have forged the way-steam engines, railroads, automobiles,
airplanes,” Sackheim says. “We need to reclaim the visionary courage to
continue the course, to take the necessary steps to propel us forward the
way those previous technologies have done. Pioneering is part of our genetic
makeup. We need to open up the space frontier, rediscover the romance of
exploration for the sake of the planet.

“When people tell me there’s no need to spend further dollars on research,
when they say propulsion is a mature technology, I tell them the first
person to say that was the caveman who invented the wheel,” he says.

And suddenly, that ruddy-cheeked young engineer-the one who looked around
Complex 15 at Cape Canaveral in 1964 and saw the future-is back.

“Just look around,” he says. “Look how far we’ve come since then.”

To learn more about NASA’s Marshall Center and its propulsion initiatives,
visit: http://www.msfc.nasa.gov

SpaceRef staff editor.