She was a renowned scientist in the late 19th to early 20th century, an era when it was difficult for women to pursue these fields. Yet, not only was she the first woman to be awarded the Nobel Prize, but also awarded it in two different scientific fields, Physics and Chemistry. To date, no one else has accomplished that.
What was the secret to her genius?
Here are some tips any of us can follow to pursue excellence in our chosen field of study:
Women breaking into aerospace in the 1980s meet men behaving badly.
The action starts in February 1984, as the winter Olympics begin in the former Yugoslavia.
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-----------------
Chapter 2
Samantha
Matijevic Clark signed in at the S*T*C lobby.
Portraits
of President Ronald Reagan and Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger
hung above the reception desk, flanked by the American flag and the
Great Bear of the Republic of California.
The
guard handed Sam a lime green sticker badge with large letters:
ESCORT
REQUIRED
“Now
sit down, hon.” He pointed to the couches and chairs in the corner.
“And wait with the rest of the guys.”
“Hon?”
Sam fingered her long brunette braid.
He
waved her off and made the call to her new supervisor.
Sam
found a spot, sinking into an old gray chair. She tugged her tan
skirt down over her knees. She peeled off the backing of her lime
green badge, then stuck it on the right side of her maroon turtleneck
sweater. Then she felt overdressed as she eyed many civilian
contractors walking by her in blue jeans and T-shirts.
Her
new coworkers—John McHenry, Tan Ho, Enrique Rodriguez—sat on the
couch canted at a right angle to her chair. She had first met them
Monday, three days ago, during their orientation at the Celestia
Space Corporation (known as CSC) main office in San Matias.
John
McHenry scratched his scruffy brown beard, which mirrored his fluffy
hair. He squirmed in his blue jacket. It smelled like moth balls.
“Well,
I’ll be.” John chuckled and pointed to a boxy looking thing in
space with solar panel wings. “There’s NAGS-1.”
Tan
Ho gave John a puzzled look. “Nag…what?”
“NAGS,”
John said. “It’s a satellite.”
“What
you mean…nags a satellite?”
“N-A-G-S.
Stands for North American Geological Survey. That was their first
satellite. Went up in the 60s.”
“How
you know that?”
“I
used to work for the geological survey,” John said. “But the
recession hit. Then I lost my job.”
“I
was engineer when I lost job. Two years ago.” Tan nodded. “Had to
work for uncle as bus boy in Chinese restaurant.”
John
shrugged. “At least you had a job. Unemployment doesn’t go far
when you’ve a wife and two kids to feed.”
“Man.”
Enrique Rodriguez shook his head. “I’ve been looking for work
since I graduated last spring. Things really sucked in ’83.”
Tan
and Enrique had many common features. Straight black hair. Brown
eyes. Olive colored skin. They even dressed alike. Brown coats and
ties with dark pants.
There
were some differences, too. Enrique was stocky, Hispanic. Tan was
slight of build, Asian descent.
John
seemed to be the oldest. He was pondering the dirt under his
fingernails. Tan’s dark eyes focused on the foggy sky beyond the
big lobby windows. Enrique was thumbing through a movie critic’s
magazine.
Sam
glanced at military and astronaut memorabilia in the showcase for the
Pacifica
Air Force Station.
Home of the S*T*C, The
Satellite Tracking Center.
Then she looked up at the TV in the lobby, tuned to CNN.
The
sound was muted, but she could see game highlights. The 1984 Winter
Olympics had opened in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, two days ago. John, Tan,
and Enrique were now chatting about those games.
Sighing,
Sam took out a pad of paper from her black tote bag, dotted with
pastel-colored hearts, and started sketching cartoons. She had taken
up drawing to keep her hands busy and stop herself from fidgeting.
In
the middle of a stroke, she heard a man loudly clear his throat. The
khaki clad guard glared at her from the entrance and pointed a sharp
finger to the sign:
NO
CAMERAS, NO RECORDERS.
Sam
shrunk into the chair. She put her pad of paper back into her tote
bag. Apparently, it also meant:
NO
SKETCHING.
-----------------
-----------------
Sam makes it through her first day at the S*T*C, then reflects about it on her drive home.
-----------------
-----------------
Chapter 17
Sam
drove down Mt.
Nauseous
in her small tan pickup truck.
Concentrate
on the vanishing point in the road ahead.
That
was the advice that Jim had given her to negotiate the many twists
and turns on the mountain road. Soon, she was back in the valley.
Then onto the freeway, heading for Santa Vittoria.
When
the traffic slowed, Sam looked up at the S*T*C, perched on the
coastal mountain range in the shape of its moniker—the Pyramid. It
was not easy to see. Painted blue, it blended into the sky. Large
white satellite dishes clustered nearby. Most denizens had assumed
they were for tele-communications: phone, cable services, radar,
whatever.
Sam
turned on the radio for news about the Winter Olympics. Instead, a
funeral dirge was broadcast. Then the lead story: Soviet leader, Yuri
Andropov, had died. He had only served a little more than a year
after succeeding Leonid Brezhnev.
There
goes another one of the old guard from “The Evil Empire.”
Sam’s
thoughts wandered to President Ronald Reagan as she
turned off the freeway onto one of the roads into Santa Vittoria.
When Reagan had used the term, Evil
Empire,
in a speech a couple years ago, he had gotten much flak from the
press.
But
Reagan’s defense build up to defeat communism was one of the
reasons Sam had secured a job at the S*T*C.
-----------------
-----------------
Sam makes it to that summer of 1984 when the Olympics come to Los Angelas as well as the coast of California.
-----------------
-----------------
Chapter 41
By
the end of July, the nude pictures of Miss America 1984 were all over
the news. Now, the first African American Miss America, Vanessa
Williams, had made another first. The first Miss America to resign,
less than a week before the 1984 Olympic Games came to Los Angeles.
“Hmmm.”
JC perused his newspaper. “Vanessa, the Undresser.”
He
raised his thick brown eyebrows as he surveyed his crew. “Now,
that’s something I’d love to see, boys. A naked Miss America.”
Ivan,
working swings the next few weeks, looked over JC’s newspaper
article and shrugged. “But you’ll have to wait for the September
issue of Penthouse
to
see her with her clothes off.”
“Well
worth the wait.” JC leered. “God bless America.”
*
* *
Four
years ago, President Jimmy Carter had pulled the Americans out of the
1980 summer Olympics in Moscow in reaction to the Russians invading
Afghanistan.
Tit
for Tat. The Russians had backed out of the 1984 summer games in the
United States. For safety reasons, they said.
Though
Los Angeles was the venue of the finals, some preliminary games were
scheduled along the West Coast. And some were in the valley.
NADS
senior analysts, mostly Jeff Ritter, Virgil Kingman, and Rich Kerry,
had rounded up some tickets for the crew—for the Olympic soccer
quarter-finals.
Sam
wanted to go with them. So, she struck a deal and offered her pickup
truck to carpool from work to the games.
*
* *
After
CSC had offered Sam a job last winter, she and Jim could not easily
get by with just one vehicle. She needed the pickup truck to get to
the S*T*C on the mountain. Therefore, Jim had gotten an old gas
guzzler, dirt cheap, for himself. But the other day, he bought a used
1976 Honda motorcycle for a cheaper and more fun commute.
“You’re
not coming with us?” Sam frowned at Jim the evening before the big
game. “These are the Olympics, for cat’s sake.”
“I
don’t like big crowds.” Jim was firm. “But feel free to see
your silly game with your coworkers.”
“And
I will.” Sam squinted at him. “But what will you do?”
“I’ll
go for a nice little ride on my new motorcycle.” And he was itching
to try this baby out.
*
* *
Some
F1 analysts gathered in the S*T*C parking lot after day shift.
Sam
looked at Enrique. “So, you’d rather see Revenge
of the Nerds instead
of the Olympics? Which comes once in a lifetime?”
“Sorry
guys.” Enrique shook his head. “Already got the tickets for me
and my girl, Diane. I’d never hear the end of it if I stood her
up.”
The
guys returned catcalls.
Then
Jeff said to Sam, “Let the nerd be with the nerds.”
Sam’s
pickup could fit many in her truck bed. But she didn’t know how to
get to the outdoor college stadium where the games would be held. So,
she asked Virgil to drive. He knew the way.
Virgil
at the wheel, Sam rode shotgun. Rich, Tan, Jeff, Austin, and others
piled in the back. They picked up some sandwiches for dinner and
souvenirs from the vendors. Sam bought a red, white, and blue
headband with stars shooting out on springs.
Jeff
laughed as she put it on her head. “You look like the Statue of
Liberty. Just need that Olympic torch and toga, girl.”
The
soccer match pitted Egypt against the United States. After the crew
settled down in their seats, officials announced the start of the
game, then a tape of the Olympic
Anthem blared
over the loud speakers.
Most
cheered for the home team. When the crowd did an Audience
Wave
for the USA, the small piece of pie that did not stand was Egypt
fans.
But
the Egyptians showed much spirit. Across the stadium, all could hear
their cheers between the blowing of ancient horns:
“Egypt!”
Toot!
Toot!
“Egypt!” Toot!
Toot!
...
Sam
spied the Egyptian flags striped with red, white, and black, centered
with the golden eagle of Saladin. And other banners as well:
The
Pyramids. Sphinxes. Mummies. The Nile.
“Shouldn’t
we be cheering for Egypt?” she teased. “We work in the Pyramid.
And our call is NILE.”
Jeff
shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, little lady.”
“But
hey. I’ve got the truck.” Sam smiled.
Virgil
said to Jeff, “She’s got you there, JR.”
Rich
Kerry chuckled. “Coming over here, I saw a bumper sticker on a
convertible, driven by a cute girl. It said, If
you’re RICH, I’m single.”
Then Rich grew a grin. “I wanted to shout to her, I’m
RICH.”
Virgil
sniggered. “While riding in the back of a borrowed pickup truck?
That’ll impress her.”
The
crew from F Troop watched the game go on and on and on. There was a
lot of running. Finally, both sides scored one point each. They ran
and ran and ran until they ran out the clock. The game ended in a
draw.
But
it was the Olympics. It was 1984. Something Sam could talk to her
mother about over the phone.
*
* *
While
his wife was at the Olympic soccer game, Jim Clark took off on his
motorcycle for the Pacifica Mountains. His bike handled the curves up
Mt.
Nauseous
very well.
But
he was passed by another biker in black leather. A guy on a Harley,
who rode like Evel
Knievel.
Jim
was too faint of heart to ride like that. He cared too much about his
life and limbs and his wife and his cat. And he was over thirty.
*
* *
Ivan
the Terrible passed some nerd on a Honda as he wound up Mt.
Nauseous.
He was working swings and had been taking a long break in the valley,
having dinner with his wife.
Then
JC called Ivan. Their manager, Ed Pennington, had paid them a
surprise visit in the S*T*C. JC told Ed that Ivan was working out
during his dinner break. Then JC pretended to call the gym and called
Ivan at home, while assuring Ed that Ivan would come up after he had
showered and changed.
JC
is a son of bitch.
But
he covered my ass and bought me some time.
No
one liked a snitch.
-----------------
-----------------
And that's the way it was back in 1984.
To learn more about a day in the life of a mission control team in the 1980s, please feel free to check out:
* Democrat Presidential Candidate Walter Mondale picked Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate, first woman vice president nominated on a main party ticket
* Winter Olympics were held in Yugoslavia (which no longer exists)
* Summer Olympics were held in Los Angelos and up the West Coast and Russia boycotts them
* The major leaders of the Evil Empire, the USSR, (which no longer exists) were dying off
* The Space Shuttle Challenger was flying
* It was the year of George Orwell's--Nineteen Eight-Four
Mike Bonacelli, a regular on swings, came into
work before shift change. Then he handed in his resignation.
“Why, Mike?” Dan looked up from his desk. He
suppressed a smirk, not that disappointed.
Mike’s dark eyes flashed. “I don’t care to get
trapped in the golden handcuffs.”
“Where’re you headed?” Rich looked up from his
desk.
Mike puffed up his chest. “I got an offer from
Apple. Working on Macintoshes—personal computers. It’s the future, where the
big money is.”
“Hey, I saw that awesome Apple ad during last
year’s Super Bowl,” Rich said. “It only aired once though.”
“Yep,” said Mike. “MacIntosh. The most awaited
event of 1984, taking a page from Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. The girl
destroys Big Brother conformity to bring on a future full of new
possibilities.”
“So, you’re leaving this job, defending your
country, for private industry?” Dan grew a grin as fake as the sincerity in his
voice. “All in hopes to be a millionaire?”
“Which is something you lust after, right, Danny
boy?”
“Mike, Mike, Mike.” Dan asked with the taint of
sarcasm in his voice, “Why would you think such a thing?”
Mike lifted his dark eyebrows. “You talk about it
all the time. It’s no secret you just don’t want to be well off. You want to be
rich.”
“You want
to be like me, Dan?” Rich twitched his dark mustache as Dan shook his head.
Smith, S K. S*T*C (pp. 258-259). Kindle Edition.
For a feel of the times, 1984-1986, especially for women breaking into space programs, please feel free to check out:
The space shuttle Challenger is up in orbit. The Reagan administration is beefing up defense to fight the Evil Empire of Communism. And the Satellite Tracking Center, known as the S*T*C, is staffing up to meet those challenges.
...
This was the spirit of the times in my latest book---S*T*C.
Below is a recording of then-Governor Reagan's speech given at the 1964 Republican Convention that nominated Barry Goldwater. The visuals are updated to reflect the continuing struggle since then.
Yet in 1984, the Cold War was at an inflection point as the former USSR would soon fall apart and the Iron Curtain would be coming down.
Likewise more paradigm shifts rocked society, especially the S*T*C as...
The old boy network finds itself turned upside down when young professional women, such as Samantha Clark and Rosalind Hart, breach the male-dominated mission control teams inside the S*T*C. In the secrecy demanded in the classified world, how do Sam and Roz cope with men behaving badly? Will the women or the old boys break first?
This fictional historical novel gives a personal feel of the struggles many women faced with a touch of humor in the mix. It's not all black and white. Not all women were angels. Neither all men Neanderthals.
S*T*C is available as a paperback, kindle, kindle unlimited. (Links below)
“The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex” and “Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.”
"In 1869, the Wyoming territory passed the Wyoming Women’s Suffrage Act, the first in the nation to grant women the right to vote, without restrictions like marital status, property ownership, or monetary requirements—something that changed women’s history forever."
...
"According to the Louisa Swain Foundation, on September 6, 1870, Louisa “Eliza” Swain made history as the first female voter when she cast her ballot in Laramie, Wyoming."
Welcome to another post on the thread: ELM - English, Literature, and Musings ....
Comedy can be a great teacher.
And the comedy Blackadder gave me an introduction to English history and literature as well as helping me recall what I had learned in school. This BBC series and its specials followed the Blackadder line as it slithered through time from the Middle Ages to World War One.
In 1811, Parliament appointed the Prince of Wales, George Augustus Frederick, as Prince Regent to his father King George III. (George III is remembered in children's history books as the mad king who lost America.)
But what does this have to do with Jane Austen? She comes in at season 3 during the Regency period in the BBC comedy ....
Blackadder the Third
An impoverished ex-aristocrat, Mr. Edmund Blackadder becomes the butler and personal servant to the Prince Regent, son of mad King George III. In this scene from Ink and Incapability, Dr. Samuel Johnson presents his English dictionary to the Prince Regent, while the butler makes sport of the pompous doctor.
Why is Prince George's butler so snarky to Dr. Johnson? If you are a writer, you may know the sting of being rejected, or worse totally ignored by a publisher. So does Mr. Edmund Blackadder
Commenting to his dogsbody Baldrick, Mr. Blackadder laments about his novel, which he had sent to Dr. Samuel Johnson:
"Edmund: A Butler's Tale" by Gertrude Perkins. A huge rollercoaster of a novel crammed with sizzling gypsies"
Blackadder :
He might at least have written back, but no, nothing, not even a "Dear Gertrude Perkins, Thank you for your book. Get stuffed. Samuel Johnson." Baldrick:
Gertrude Perkins?
Blackadder:
Yes, I gave myself a female pseudonym. Everybody's doing it these days: Mrs Radcliffe, Jane Austen
Baldrick:
Jane Austen's a man?
Blackadder:
Of course. A huge Yorkshireman with a beard like a rhododendron bush.
The opening theme ends with the butler finding a Romance Regency paperback (it's an anachronism) with a Jane Austen-like episode title, such as seen here:
The real Prince George was a fan of Jane Austen and suggested she dedicate a book to him. And when the son of King George III (and future King George IV) makes a suggestion, you had better do it. And she did. So Jane Austen dedicated Emma to the Prince Regent, with these words:
"To His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, this work is, by His Royal Highness's permission, most respectfully dedicated to His Royal Highness by His dutiful and obedient humble servant, the Author."
