LITTLE ROCK — “Ah, Guenter Wendt. I vonder vere Guenter vent?” -Tom Hanks as Jim Lovell in Apollo 13 WHO CARES if it was really another astronaut, Donn Eisele, who said, as Apollo 7 lifted from the ground, “I vonder vere Guenter vent?” Tom Hanks got the line in the movies. Movies are fantasy, not meant to be taken as historical fact. (If we had a dime for every line uttered by Huey P. Long that some director attributed to Earl, or for every line uttered by Earl that some director attributed to Huey, we’d have enough for a few dozen Cokes. Thank goodness for newspapers and books.)
Only a few people in the space business in the 1960s would have got the joke, anyway. Guenter Wendt (in German, the last name is pronounced Vent) was the last Earthly face that many astronauts saw before the fuel was lit and the windows turned from blue to black.In all great endeavors of man, there are those in the background who do the hard work, the tedious work, who sweat the small stuff, and the big stuff, and are chewed out when things go wrong, and overlooked when things go right, while others get the glory. Think of the backstage crew of an opera, or at a newspaper. Guenter Wendt was one of those millions upon millions. They may have a wrench in their hand and stripes on their shoulders at a Marine supply depot in Afghanistan, or a mouse in their hand at some computer in Washington, D.C., or two hands on a tractor’s steering wheel in Lafayette County, Ark., but they’re the ones who make the world go ’round. And they don’t mind that their names don’t appear in headlines. Not at all. They just do their jobs. Competently. Guenter Wendt was one of them.
The German with the thick accent died this month, at 85. Actually, he was more of an American who happened to have been born in Germany-and who also happened to have fought with the Luftwaffe. He was German when the Second World War II broke, so he fought for his country. Anybody from the southern part of the United States would know about people who fight for their country, even if that country turns out to have been on the wrong side of history. When the war ended with Germany and much of the rest of Europe in ruins, Guenter Wendt, like so many other Germans, decided that Americawould be a good place to start over.
We’re not sure if Guenter Wendt fled to the West as the Soviets moved in from the East, or if one of those American teams looking for the best German engineers and physicists policed him up among the ruins. But the story goes that Mr. Wendt ended up working as a mechanic in St. Louis. Even with all his engineering experience, the American bureaucrats in charge of All Things Paperwork weren’t about to hire a German to work on sensitive U.S. military contracts. In any case, Guenter Wendt became a naturalized citizen in the fifties, and that, as they say, was that. It was the start of a beautiful friendship, as Rick told Captain Renault in Casablanca. Welcome to NASA, Herr Wendt. Excuse us, Mister Wendt.
THOSE WHO knew him best said Guenter Wendt had two things going for him: (1) A sense of humor, and (2) A deadly serious streak. He would trade jokes with the astronauts as he buckled them in for their journeys, but when it came to work, he was all business, all German Gründlichkeit-thoroughness.
“It’s easy to get along with Guenter,” said Pete Conrad. “All you have to do is agree with him.”
Sounds like a few copy editors we could name.
The obits said that Guenter Wendt wasn’t on the launch pad when Apollo 1 caught fire and killed Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffee. A different contractor had the job that year, and Mr. Wendt wasn’t employed by that company. But you can bet that, after that fire, astronauts made sure that Guenter Wendt was on the launch pad from then on out-to check the vitals of the men and ship before takeoff. That is, to do his job. And do it thoroughly, competently. He wouldn’t retire until 1989.
Like so many other millions upon millions who go to work each day and do their jobs competently, he wasn’t in the papers much. He didn’t run for office. He didn’t call attention. He just did his job. And there are lots of astronauts still haunting Houston and the Florida coast who are mighty pleased he did.
In these days of reality TV and celebrity “news” and people who are famous because they’re famous, it’s a pleasure to look back on a life lived, and a job done, competently. RIP, Mister Wendt.
Danke sehr.
Editorial, Pages 22 on 05/22/2010