Look to the Skies
From our house, wedged between woods and wetlands, we don’t see much sky.
Too many trees close together. Except in midwinter, when the leaves go. On a clear winter’s night, we can see the stars overhead and, sometimes, the moon across the swamp. Not exactly a vista, but enough to make us feel small, enough to fill us with wonder at the vastness of the universe.
New Hampshire is not Big Sky Country, but it’s no slouch when it comes to stargazing. In fact, one of our own led the way into the vastness. In 1961, Derry native Alan Shepard piloted the Freedom 7 beyond the pull of Earth’s gravity to become the first American in space! The trip was short: 116 miles up then straight home, no dilly-dally, 15 minutes from launch to splashdown. History was made. The nation cheered! New Hampshire nodded modestly: “Ayuh, that’s our boy.”
Ten years later, Shepard walked on the moon. It takes a lot to excite a Yankee, but the man walked on the moon! Shepard’s accomplishments excited Ted Asselin of Warren, who hatched an idea that seemed both whimsical and impractical. But with ingenuity, stick-to-itiveness and support from family, friends and the community (most of it), he followed through.
Have you been to Warren?
If so, you will have noticed a pointy-topped metal object smack in the middle of the village, bright white with black trim and with “USA” in red lettering. More than 70 feet tall, it towers over the gazebo and is slightly taller than the church steeple. It is a rocket — a genuine Redstone Jupiter-C rocket, just like the one that propelled Shepard into space in 1961.
What the heck?
Ted Asselin first laid eyes on Redstones while stationed at the Redstone Arsenal in Alabama. Originally built to carry warheads, some — like Shepard’s — were repurposed for the space program. With a shelf life of five years, the old ones ended up at the arsenal — doing nothing, with nowhere to go.
Asselin thought a Redstone would be a fine way to honor New Hampshire’s first astronaut. And why not plunk it in Warren, as good a place as any?
Town officials agreed, so long as it didn’t cost taxpayers anything. Asselin agreed to pay for transport. The Army agreed to let a Redstone go. For free! Asselin and a couple of buddies borrowed a tractor-trailer and drove south to fetch it.
The 1,300-mile return trip was challenging. Asselin and crew got lost a few times. Police frequently pulled them over to ask “What is that?” In Ohio, sticklahs levied a hefty fine for transporting a missile without a permit. Eventually, Asselin, his crew and the missile made it to Concord, where the truck broke down on Main Street and had to be towed to the statehouse for a reception with Gov. Walter Peterson and other dignitaries.
Meanwhile in Warren, word came in that the missile would soon be crossing the town line, so a welcoming committee jumped into their vehicles and raced to meet it and escort it home. Unfortunately, the “missile” turned out to be a pumper truck from Wentworth.
It was then, Asselin later wrote, “I knew … I had indeed been correct in bringing America’s space program a little closer to Warren!”
Ted Asselin died on June 19, 2013, age 81, fondly remembered for his many accomplishments, including the unlikely rehoming of a Redstone Rocket in Warren, New Hampshire. “Ayuh,” we say modestly, “that’s our boy.”
The Warren Historical Society’s display of space memorabilia includes a letter from Alan Shepard.
