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Jul 05, 2023

Locals share memories of Challenger shuttle disaster

It has been 30 years since the nation was horrified while watching the

It has been 30 years since the nation was horrified while watching the Challenger space shuttle explode in the sky shortly after launch, killing all seven crew members on board, including a civilian teacher from New Hampshire named Christa McAuliffe.

The emotional day is tattooed in the minds of many who remember where they were and whom they were with when the Challenger went down. We asked people to share their memories of one of the worst disasters in the country's history and how they were affected:

Mick Carlon, Centerville

It's hard to believe that it was 30 years ago. A television was wheeled into my journalism classroom at Barnstable High School. A second-year teacher, I thought it would be a valuable exercise to have my young reporters cover the launch of the first teacher in space. One young lady in the class had even gone to elementary school in Concord, New Hampshire, and although she had not had Christa McAuliffe as a teacher, she had known her.

Being adolescents, my students enjoyed joining in with the countdown. And then the launch. And then the plumes of white smoke. "Is that supposed to happen?" one boy asked. "I don't think so," I replied. As we watched the tragedy unfold, several students, including the young lady from Concord, began to cry.

"Do we still have to write the assignment?" another boy asked.

"Not today," I said.

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Karen K. Gilligan, Yarmouth Port

I vividly remember the Challenger explosion on Jan. 28, 1986. I was a teacher but had taken that year off to be with my son, who was in kindergarten. The morning of Jan. 28, I volunteered in my daughter's third-grade classroom. Starting to drive home, the radio on, I heard the news. At home I called my husband and all I remember saying was, "The Challenger, the Challenger, it ..."

I perhaps had more interest in this shuttle flight than many people. I had applied to be the teacher in space and had followed Christa's selection and training. Michael McCaffrey, the superintendent of Dennis-Yarmouth Regional School District, had to sign my application. He said I was the only one applying from our district and he hadn't heard of anyone else on the Cape. Considering such a wonderful, literally once-in-a-lifetime, opportunity, I was very, very surprised.

Christa and I were both teachers, but what made me feel close to her was that we both had two children: My daughter was in third grade, as was her son. My son was in kindergarten, as was her daughter. I was excited for her son and his class planning their trip to watch the launch. I understood the longing of a 5-year-old when it was reported all she wanted was her mommy to come home.

The explosion and the loss impacted me then and impacts me still when I think of Christa's children as mine achieve milestones. The goal of having a teacher in space was to me inspiring and exciting, an example of America at its best.

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Carolyn Barnes, Centerville

In 1986, I was an employee of New Hampshire Public Television located at the University of New Hampshire. Christa McAuliffe had come to our studios to tape a video that was part of her application process to the NASA program. I was in charge of meeting her and escorting her to the studio.

It is to my everlasting sadness that I had been so preoccupied with my busy day that I had little recollection of her arrival. My boss remarked after watching the taping what an outstanding candidate Christa would make. "There is something special about her," she said.

Later, when she was chosen, I spoke of my regret at having missed so much of her visit. "Don't worry," my boss said, "you’ll get another chance because she has agreed to do her first post-flight interview with us."

A bank was approached to underwrite the cost of producing that interview, but the bank president said to our development director, "OK, Linda, we will pledge the money, but you know, someday, one of those things isn't going to come back."

On the day of her flight I was very nervous for some reason. The staff had gathered in a studio to watch the liftoff. I stayed for just a few seconds and went back to my office. I was on the phone with a viewer who was asking about a program schedule when I looked up to see a stream of my colleagues passing by my desk in silence, distress and disbelief. I didn't ask what had happened but told the caller to please call back later as something terrible had just happened and I couldn't talk.

The station offices and studios were in almost complete silence for the remainder of the day.

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Paul Schrader, Sandwich

At the time of the Challenger disaster, our family was living in Friendswood, Texas, just a few miles from the Johnson Space Center. Friendswood was home to many astronauts, engineers, scientists and other space technicians. They were our neighbors and friends. The Challenger "Teacher in Space" program was extra special to us, as one of the district's teachers was a finalist and one of our children had been in her class.

In the time leading up to the launch, all the finalists attended a gathering at the mayor's home. My wife and I had the pleasure of meeting Christa McAuliffe and the other candidates. Christa and I quickly learned that we had some connections, as we were both from New England, she taught in the same school as my brother-in law-and lived in the same town as my aunt. We had a wonderful conversation.

I shall never forget the moments after the launch and explosion. The Challenger disaster deeply touched the community of Friendswood. It was a momentous loss for all people, but especially for our NASA community.

We mourned the terrible losses, but we came together and a local artist, Laurie Whitehead, created a wonderful painting, "And Touched the Face of God," some of the words used by President Reagan in his tribute to the seven members of the Challenger crew.

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Leigh B. Smith, Vineyard Haven

I have strong memories of the Challenger explosion, as I had the privilege of meeting astronaut Ron McNair, lost that day, when he had completed a successful flight aboard that spaceship in 1984.

McNair, who rose from poverty in South Carolina to graduate from MIT to become the second African-American astronaut in the space program, was married to the cousin of a colleague of mine at a New Jersey school and visited with us after the February 1984 flight on the same ill-fated spaceship. What excitement there had been at our school that day, and how thrilling for me to have a snapshot showing me meeting him.

My colleague had been able to go to witness the launch on Jan. 28, 1986, and we knew what a special day that was for her -- but little did we know what would transpire. I was working with a parent volunteer in the school library when we received the awful news; not something I will ever forget.

When President Reagan addressed the nation later on TV, pictures were shown of the large crowd attending the takeoff and then the horror on all faces as realization came that something had gone terribly wrong.

Most people were particularly aware of the teacher Christa McAuliffe, who had bravely made the flight and directed efforts toward bringing attention to the youngest Americans of the possibilities of space exploration. My own personal thoughts were of Ron McNair, who had left behind a lovely wife, Cheryl, and a very young son and daughter in Houston.

The crew of the space shuttle Challenger is seen in this 1986 file photo released by NASA. From left to right: Ellison Onizuka, Mike Smith, Christa McAuliffe, Dick Scobee, Greg Jarvis, Ron McNair and Judy Resnick. All seven crew members died in the shuttle explosion, which was blamed on faulty O-rings in the booster rockets.

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Lucinda Bourke-McKay, Mashpee

It was my husband's birthday, Jan. 28, and he had a day off, so we were enjoying time with our infant son, Michael, and listening to the launch at our home in Mashpee. We went to turn on the television to see it, and it was apparent after 73 seconds something had gone horribly wrong.

David, my husband, and I were aghast; not just as onlookers, he genuinely knew "The Teacher in Space."

Dave went to Marian High School in Framingham with Christa Corrigan back then, and he worked the same after-school job with her and her future husband, Steve McAuliffe, at a local laundry. (She was a year older, and fun to work with.)

It was very exciting to learn just a few days before the launch that it was indeed his former work mate and school alum who was making the first voyage ever into space as a payload specialist and teacher. Before this he didn't make the connection, it was just a teacher from New Hampshire. The extreme media coverage before the launch presented a background story and told about her time in Framingham, her childhood home. That is when he realized he knew her quite well from his teen years.

Launch day, tragedy. It was shattering to see her dreams and those of all the other astronauts end so violently. The repeated showing of the explosion was so difficult to watch, and until the collapse of the twin towers on 9/11, it was one of the most horrifying images in recent US history to many of us.

It was one birthday he would rather forget.

Rest in peace, Christa Corrigan McAuliffe and the Challenger crew. We will remember your service and contributions, not that fateful moment in 1986.

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Frances Ferguson, East Falmouth

How well I remember where I was on that day. At the time I was living on the Space Coast in Satellite Beach, Florida. My next-door neighbor was in mission control at Kennedy Space Center. To watch the shot I only had to go out my front door.

The whole neighborhood was outside in their yards with portable radios listening to the countdown and we all shouted out loud in unison: 10, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …liftoff! We all yelled together as we watched Challenger head for space.

And then, the horrible explosion and our tears of disbelief. You see, this was very personal to us. We saw the astronauts daily as they practiced in their T15's across our skies, we saw them in the local stores and the base exchange in their flight suits. They were family and now they were gone. To us it was a family tragedy, not just a national one.

We grieved deeply and their memory will always be a part of our lives. I have no pictures to share with anyone, only the ones my eyes took and my heart will always remember.

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Albert R. DiCarlo, Centerville

Jan. 28, 1986, was a very busy day at Barnstable High. First semester had ended, and a number of school secretaries were using the computer lab to manually key course grades in preparation for printing report cards. I had walked across the hall to the school library to watch the Challenger launch on TV and witnessed the disaster with many students and staff.

While I was watching and listening to announcers and mission control comment on the events, one of the secretaries, Pat, crossed to the library to get me, as her computer had locked up. We went back to the lab and checked on her problem computer. I did not point out the problem to Pat, as I did not want to upset her. We reset the computer and I went back to the library to watch the events.

Within a few minutes, Pat returned and said her computer problem had reoccurred. When we viewed the problem the second time, I asked Pat to look at the name of the student whose grades she was attempting to key. The student's name was "McAuliffe." Pat and I were both amazed at what we called a coincidence.

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Sue Larsen, South Chatham

My husband and I were vacationing in Fort Lauderdale at that time. The day of the launch was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. We had the TV on watching the preliminary preparations -- the smiling astronauts as they left their dressing quarters for the launching pad, their entry into the space capsule. How exciting it was. How happy they were.

After the countdown, which was uninterrupted, it was time for "blast off." The cameras now focused on all the people who had assembled there. They had come from all over the world to witness the historic launch. Everyone, of course, was looking up to follow the path of the rocket. The cameras then found Christa McAuliffe's parents among the spectators, who were smiling with happy pride.

On the outside chance that we would be able to witness the rocket as it climbed higher in the sky, we went into the backyard to see if that was possible. It was not. We went back inside to continue to watch the coverage on TV.

The cameras by then were showing the pieces of the rocket on a downward flight. That is when I dissolved into tears.

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Catherine Alekna, Orleans

I pulled out a journal that was hiding in an old desk and would like to share an excerpt from Jan. 28, 1986:

"I witnessed a tragedy today that is so hard to comprehend. Our 25th space shuttle, Challenger, exploded in the air killing all seven people aboard. One was a teacher, Christa McAuliffe, that was selected among 11,000 applicants. If I gained anything from this (something I think she would want) it helped me to see that life is too short to worry about what might happen and to go forward and take a chance. Sometimes it doesn't work out the way you expect but at least you give it a try."

That was 30 years ago. I was in my early 20s and struggling with the apprehension of opening my own business. Three months later I opened Kid & Kaboodle and today it is a thriving, successful operation thanks to my many loyal customers, hard work and the lesson from a tragedy that will hopefully inspire others.

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Mary DeGon, Mashpee

I was a nurse working in the intensive-care unit of Symmes Hospital in Arlington on Jan. 28, 1986. Staff who were able to take a break went to an empty room to watch the Challenger liftoff on TV. We were excited, feeling that Christa McAuliffe was representing all of us.

As I stood in the doorway and viewed the explosion, it felt like time stood still. In that moment it seemed that all the background noise in the busy ICU came to a stop. After a second or two, I became aware again of the sounds of respirators and cardiac monitors.

I still remember today how difficult it was to go back to my patient care, be strong and act as if everything was OK. I had to wait until the end of my shift before I could break down. I remember crying as I was driving home. That day still lives on in my memory.

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Jim Boutilier, Mashpee

The day of this horrendous event always will be in my memory, because I had to deliver this bad news to an assembled audience. We were at the magnificent Hotel Del Coronado in San Diego.

Grossman's Lumber & Building Supplies, Western Division, was holding its annual managers meeting. As vice president of human resources, I was master of ceremony, and while one of the main sessions was in process I learned of the disaster.

At the next break in the meeting I had to inform the audience of this terrible news, and as the attendees sat in complete shock, I asked for moments of silent prayer.

Zoom all the way in to read Cape Cod Times coverage from 1986

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Mary McDermott, Orleans

The day of the Challenger tragedy, I was working at Orleans Town Hall. I heard someone say, "That sends a chill down my spine" and was alarmed. I went out into the hall to find out what had happened. Another employee came out of an office where there was a radio, shaking his head in disbelief. By now, I was terrified that the U.S. was under attack or the threat of attack.

I went into the office that had the radio and was told that the shuttle had exploded. My only question was, "Christa?" A co-worker nodded sadly.

My relief that we were not being attacked was dwarfed by my shock that such a thing could happen, especially to the first "teacher in space," and by a profound sorrow that I'm sure will always be shared by all of us who remember that terrible day.

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Mike Hirschman, Brewster

I compare the explosion of the Challenger, NASA space shuttle tragedy on Jan. 28,1986, to that of President Reagan and President Kennedy being shot and the horrific tragedy of 9/11: Everybody knew where they were when these disasters took place.

On that date, I was living in northern New Jersey, working in Manhattan, and I was on a business trip to Chicago. On that day I was doing a due diligence audit on a corporation that owned shopping centers that the company I worked for was looking to purchase. We all took a break (four of us) to go downstairs to the bar/restaurant in the high-rise corporate building to watch the liftoff of the Challenger.

I distinctly remember watching the liftoff … and shortly after a minute, I knew there was a problem. We all looked at each other with dismay and disbelief. It looked like the vehicle completely broke into pieces and disintegrated. At the time, I did not fully understand what actually occurred.

Shortly thereafter, the television reporters explained what happened and I remember a sad, empty feeling in my stomach that I will never forget. The sadness I felt for these seven people was unimaginable. It has been reported that almost 20 percent of Americans saw the disaster live and almost 90 percent of Americans knew of the tragedy within one hour of its occurrence, and this was before social media. I remember there was a 32-month hiatus of the space program after the incident, and I was happy about that. The term "O-rings" will never leave my memory as that was determined to be the cause of the explosion. May the seven "astronauts" rest in peace.

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Mary Chris Kenney, East Falmouth

I was living and working in Framingham, the hometown and college town of Christa McAuliffe. The Middlesex News was following her story right from the start of her selection to be the first civilian, a teacher, in space. My son was 4 and we shared this exciting news together with his nursery school.

On Jan. 28, 1986, all the TVs in the Jordan Marsh showroom were turned on to watch the Challenger's launch, especially because of Christa, and finally it was happening after so many postponements. The camera caught all the families' faces full of hope, then confusion as they, like us, weren't sure of what we saw explode. We kept thinking that we saw a parachute. When the grim fact was revealed, the shock sank into our afternoon, making any concentration on work impossible. I was faced with the task of having to tell my son that what he saw on the TV really happened. Our local library in the Saxonville section of Framingham was renamed for Christa McAuliffe.

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Terance Dunn, South Dennis

It is hard to believe it has been 30 years since the Challenger tragedy. It was an event that affected me in a very personal way, with the sadness of learning about the deaths of these courageous astronauts and professionally as a teacher of elementary-age children having taught space science/astronomy for my 40-year career.

After the tragedy I wanted to do something to honor the legacy of the Challenger Seven astronauts. I was fortunate enough to accept a sabbatical to teach and share their memory in a newly formed Challenger Center for Space Science Education. Working with middle school children I was able to guide them through a simulated mission to recover Comet Halley as members of a shuttle crew. I am happy to say that all 180 missions were successful!

When I returned to my classroom I was able to introduce a similar program to the second-graders of our school. A month of interdisciplinary learning based on the theme of astronaut training and the space shuttle culminated in a seven-person crew participating in their own mission to secure basic survival needs at the International Space Station. It is a program that is still in existence to this day at my former school.

Christa McAuliffe's mother, Grace Corrigan, visited our school twice and was so impressive to the children in conveying Christa's message of "Reach for the Stars." The school-age children of today will be the space colonizers of tomorrow.

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Denise Maddocks, Brewster

My husband, Jim, and I were visiting my grandmother in Jensen Beach, Florida. The day before the launch we scouted out a perfect viewing location along the Indian River. We drove there just before liftoff and sat on the hood of our car, waiting. We saw the Challenger streak into the sky and then a flash of fire and then smoke.

We were confused because everything except the smoke seemed to disappear. I got in the car and turned on the radio. I screamed to the others, "Something is wrong." We listened as the stunned announcer described the chaos. For the rest of the day, that puff of smoke remained in an otherwise crystal-clear sky.

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Charlotte Soucy, Cataumet

The Challenger disaster shook me to the core. I watched it live on my television at home. The fact that I worked in a school system made it hit closer to home as we all identified with Christa McAuliffe, who was a teacher from New Hampshire, and schools were focused on the event.

TV news programs had built up the flight with great anticipation. We watched the astronauts smiling as they headed for the shuttle. Shortly after the launch, they were gone. It rattled me and stayed with me for months.

On the day after the event, I took pen to paper and wrote a poem about my shock. Part of it reads:

"But now, when earthly tragedy has struck

I shrink back in horror and fear.

The bright success and promise

Has faded in a millisecond.

"Our American heroes -- our astronauts

and one teacher --

Braved the challenge

And died in an instant.

"Great beings, giving up their lives

For the great cause of scientific exploration.

Perhaps because we all watched them vanish

Even as the smiles of awe were

pressed upon our lips,

"As the wonder in our eyes turned

to horror on our faces.

In our shock and sadness

We beg God for an answer

to our question ‘Why?’"

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Hugh Blair-Smith, Dennis

I’d been working at MIT on the space shuttle onboard computer system from around 1970 through 1980, and was part of a Cambridge startup computer company in 1986. A colleague's wife called to tell us of the disaster. Having no TV in the office, we hurried over to a nearby Burger King and watched the TV screens there as the networks ran the tape over and over.

The explosion itself didn't look significant, since it could have been the normal staging when the solid-fuel rockets burned out, but they weren't burned out. They left two wildly corkscrewing paths, and the hushed voice of the NASA public relations officer repeated the sum total of official knowledge at that time: "Clearly, there has been a major malfunction."

The loss of Christa McAuliffe was wrenching because it was our first effort to open space travel to people who weren't integral parts of the space establishment. But it had a modest, though oddly beneficial, effect on the Cold War: As I relate in my new book,"Left Brains for the Right Stuff: Computers, Space, and History," the Soviets had been racking their brains for years trying to figure out what sort of a secret strategic weapon the shuttle was, and the presence and loss of such a thoroughly civilian figure must have made them doubt their premise.

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Kate Armstrong, Centerville

As an avid space program supporter, I was glued to the TV that morning, watching the liftoff. When it was clear there had been a catastrophic malfunction I immediately picked up the landline house phone to alert my parents on the West Coast in British Columbia. "Wake up! Turn TV on! Disaster! NASA shuttle!! OH MY GOD!" and hung up. I have no idea why, but I also put the stereo on … played David Bowie's album "Space Oddity" over and over. Also kept the TV on watching the news coverage. I kept the Cape Cod Times that came out the next day.

When NASA was looking for another teacher in space, I actually wrote, saying although I was not a teacher, I was a woman postal worker and would go up as a fascinated supporter of the space program. They did reply, "Thank you for your interest in the NASA space program."

The disaster was awful, yet with science and exploration there is risk in discovery.

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Joanne Holcomb, East Falmouth

On Jan. 26, 1986, I was in my fourth year as an English teacher at Lawrence School in Falmouth. We had televisions set up in some classrooms and several in the cafeteria. I had lunch duty that day. The cafeteria, as always with grades 7 and 8, was noisy, but on this day kids and staff were excited to see the Challenger, with teacher Christa McAuliffe, as it took off. Kids were cheering and staff members were clapping as the space shuttle rose. But quickly my colleagues' faces turned eerie and pained. Soon after the kids' voices quieted. Students looked at us and wanted to know what was wrong. We couldn't believe what we saw, and we didn't know how to explain it.

It was a tragedy before our eyes. I will always remember the strange quiet in that cafeteria, where I stood, and the faces of my colleagues and our students.

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Jan Potter, Eastham

Certain events are indelibly etched in our minds. Sadly, the Challenger disaster is one of those. It was the most beautiful, clear day in Florida. The country was excited with the anticipation of the first teacher to fly into space. As a high school English teacher I, too, was excited as my students and I awaited liftoff. You could almost feel the collective emotions.

Then, suddenly, in little more than a minute, reality hit when all of us watched in disbelief as the Challenger exploded in the sky. It was silence … utter silence … and then only gasps from all of us as we tried to fathom what had just occurred. How do you even begin to explain to teenagers the fragility of it all? You just can't. What I remember most of all that day was Christa McAuliffe's parents’ faces stunned beyond belief. We all saw that picture again and again and again. We all grieved collectively that day. We grieved for these seven brave astronauts; we grieved for their families; we grieved for a loss of innocence.

Yes, the Challenger disaster on Jan. 28, 1986, like JFK's assassination, like 9/11, like the Boston Marathon bombing, is a sad, significant event in which we all remember just what we were doing and where we were. On each of those anniversaries, like so many others, we take pause and pay respect to them.

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Betsy McIntyre, Osterville

On the morning of Jan. 28, 1986, I had gone to visit my parents, Anne Reid and Delton Crosby Hall, of Parker Road, Osterville. I was a nurse at Cape Cod Hospital and worked the 3-11 p.m. shift. On a day off I would often join Mom and Dad for lunch and wine.

On this fateful day, whatever game show was on TV was interrupted to show the launch of Challenger. We marveled as the seven brave souls were thrust up into a clear blue sky.

In a matter of seconds, admiration turned to shock as it became very evident that the Challenger had exploded.

We watched as vapors and smoke spiraled off into space and it became obvious that no one could have survived the blast.

Our own faces reflected the dismay and grief that washed over the faces of family and friends who had just watched the demise of their loved ones.

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Rita Soulia, South Dennis

Back in the mid-‘60s and early ‘70s, I, along with other moms and dads, coached the St. Jeremiah Catholic Church's girls softball and basketball teams in Framingham. Christa played both of those sports and was the captain of the softball team. She was a great pitcher.

In the ‘80s, I moved to Sagamore Beach and began teaching at Riverview School in East Sandwich. I had many newspaper clippings of Christa posted on bulletin boards so students and staff were well aware of my knowing Christa.

At around 11:30 a.m. on the day of the launch there was a knock at my classroom door and the former executive director came in and told me "big disaster."

I was shocked and just didn't believe it at first. Because I had known her, it made it that much harder to digest what happened.

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Joan Aucoin, Chatham

My alarm went off at 6 a.m. Hugging the covers to hear the local news and weather, the morning was cold even on Long Island, New York. As I dressed for work, teaching child development at West Hempstead High School, I put the "Today" show on, now filled with live visuals on the historic Challenger liftoff rescheduled for Jan. 28.

There had been some weather issues at Cape Canaveral. It was very cold in Florida, too. I thought to myself, do they have to lift off today? It's too cold for the spectators to enjoy.

On to school to proctor midterm exams, and midsemester teachers luncheon at our favorite coffee shop on Hempstead Avenue. How very proud and excited to cheer for Christa McAuliffe , a teacher soon to be out into the universe representing every teacher in America.

My aunt and uncle were vacationing on Melbourne Beach, ready to snap some photos of the space shuttle breaking the surly bonds of Earth and out among the stars. How horrific that their snapshots shared later in the spring showed the tragic breakup of the Challenger.

Our waitress interrupted our luncheon with tragic news. We literally huddled around a TV set and wept in silence. Our brave young men and women and teacher Christa, now falling to earth with remnants of the shuttle. A very sad day.

My father had supported our family with his work at Grumman Aircraft, now Northrop Grumman, which has just been awarded a huge military contract with a plant on the Space Coast. Dad's last project before retiring was working on the LEM, lunar excursion module. Space has always been a much-heralded frontier for our family.

When I think of those lost, I am reminded of the quote from "Romeo and Juliet" as

spoken by Robert Kennedy on the loss of his brother. It is on a plaque in the Hyannis JFK Museum: It is our heroes that light up the night sky, "that all the world will be in love with night!"

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Theresa Mitchell (Barbo), Yarmouth Port

In January 1986 I was a news reporter for New Hampshire Public Radio (WEVO) as well as a weekend news anchor at WEEI in Boston. My original assignment was for WEVO to cover the launch from the auditorium at Concord High School where Mrs. McAuliffe taught. The media were put on the right side of the auditorium and all students and faculty were on the left as you faced the stage, where a giant television sat atop one of those AV carts. All the major Boston television stations were there along with a lot of radio and print outlets.

Christa's students then came in with horns and decorations and to me it resembled a typical teen New Year's Eve party. I remember the senior administrators and some faculty were seated in the upper sections looking down on the auditorium.

Seconds after the launch itself, all seemed normal. The kids were screaming their heads off with joy, and the teachers and staff appeared pridefully immersed in the moment. And the journalists were fairly calm; after all, this wasn't the first shuttle launch and the NASA procedures seemed routine to those of us coming of age in newsrooms in the ‘80s. We had seen dozens of these.

But I do remember thinking, ‘There's an awful lot of smoke,’ and something just didn't seem right. So far no one in the audience (teachers, staff and journalists) seemed to notice, so I thought it was just me.

Then it wasn't just me any longer.

And this I’ll never forget: "Shut up," screamed a man from the upper rafters. I think it might have been the principal. "Can't you see something's wrong?"

It was then that everyone quieted down, and faces were glazed in disbelief.

Then came the moment everyone remembers from that NASA spokesman: "Obviously a major malfunction." That proved to be the understatement of the decade, didn't it?

I thought, "I gotta get outta here and find a phone," so I scrambled out of my seat and headed up the aisle past this one male television reporter from Boston who couldn't take his eyes off that TV screen; he seemed frozen in his seat, like a proverbial deer in the headlights. Just outside the auditorium was a tiny closet with a desk. I figured it belonged to the custodian. I popped on the light, shut the door, sat down and dialed the WEVO newsroom and gave a quick update. Even though I wasn't on official assignment, I then dialed the WEEI newsroom in Boston and told them I was actually with Christa's class, and within minutes I was live on the air filing a report, functioning on pure adrenaline because I had so few notes. They signed me off quickly to accommodate a reporter at NASA in Florida, but I did get in several minutes worth of narrative.

At that point I had no other choice than to grab my stuff — my purse and tape recorder, which in those days was as large as a small beach cooler and weighed about 10 pounds — and head out the door before I was kicked out. Teachers were forcing all the journalists out the door and into the cold. The students were in shock. No one said very much. I think at that point we all knew the entire Challenger crew had perished. Some of us tried to catch student reactions as they left the building, but after one try with an emotionally crippled kid who had been traumatized by what he had just seen, I felt like a vulture and quit while I was ahead. Others did not.

As I reflect back on the disaster three decades later, I must have been in some state of shock. We all were. In the ‘80s, bad things and stories on a massive scale simply didn't happen all that often. The next 36 hours were a flurry of filing reports to media entities all over the world because I was based in Concord. "I heard you on Radio Guam," someone told me a few years later. "I heard you on AP in Philly," someone else said. But in those early hours there was very little sleep. Very little food. Just work, work, work. But in the ‘80s, with covering the hardest of breaking news, this is what you did.

Some weeks later, on a weekend shift at WEEI in Boston, the AP machine kept dinging its bell. Usually one bell ring meant a fresh news story, two might have signaled bad weather, three was to signal for someone giving a speech, such as President Reagan's State of the Union address. But on this day it kept ringing, one after the other. "The Russians are coming?" I said to my editor. "No, it's not the Russians. The Navy just found the Challenger's crew compartment," she said.

And then we relived the nightmare all over again.