Word: caped
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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This kind of chatter is everyday lingo to thousands of dedicated missilemen who run the unique Spaceport, U.S.A., at Cape Canaveral, Fla. For a tour beyond the guarded gates of missileland, see NATIONAL AFFAIRS, The Rite of Space...
Poking his wobbly way through the scrub, stubble and sand of Florida's Cape Canaveral comes a creature from the ages. The armadillo, his precision-made armor plate intermeshing fluidly, moseys along, oblivious of time. Skittering across his path is another anachronism, the beady-eyed, evil-looking horned lizard, uglier than the sum of the menacing spikes that jut from his body. On trundles the armadillo, scarcely noticing a wide hole in the ground. From the hole run two telephone lines; a few feet away, they connect to a pair of phones lying in a ditch. The armadillo scratches...
THIS is the rite of space that is performed day and night at the Air Force Missile Test Center at Cape Canaveral, the point from which the first U.S. man-possibly the first man in the world -will journey to the moon and beyond. Cape Canaveral is the U.S. Spaceport of the Future, and today it is in full-dress rehearsal-a monumental, $370 million stage where, day and night, civilian and military scientists and technicians work with freshly blueprinted tools over the incredibly complex mechanisms of space travel. With each launching of an Atlas, Jupiter or Thor-though flames...
Wrapped up in Cape Canaveral's future is an organization as complex as a missile itself. It is an industrial cooperative of 15,000 acres, operated for the Air Force by Pan American World Airways and RCA. The facilities are shared by a score of missile contractors (e.g., Convair, Lockheed, General Electric), who use the testing equipment and range for development of their projects for the Army, Navy and Air Force. The man who makes it run is Air Force Major General Donald Yates (West Point '31). Headquartered at Patrick Air Force Base, 18 miles south...
Able, urbane Don Yates has so far kept contractors, military services and unions happy, for the one unifying force at Cape Canaveral is a widespread epidemic of missile fever. In nearby Cocoa Beach, and in towns up and down the coast, missilemen and their families have infected the whole populace with the fever. In motels, bars and restaurants, the prevailing talk is rocketry, its failures and its triumphs. One restaurant is fitting out its roof garden with telescopes; sons of missilemen are shooting their own miniature rockets; a ladies' luncheon club has dubbed itself the Missile Misses...