A Ringside View of the Moon Shots, Part 9: The Order of the Gator

On October 31, 1969, Harold O'Connor, manager of the Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge, watches a 10-foot-long alligator inch its way toward a busy highway at the Kennedy Space Center. O'Connor, aided by assistant Jerome Carroll, not shown, guided the large gator to safety in a nearby pond, several miles south of the Vehicle Assembly Building, in background.  It is the opinion of the author that this is the alligator that delayed him in making a delivery for President Richard Nixon and inspiring the "award." (NASA image KSC-69P-0819 via NASA on the Commons/Flickr)

By Steve Milner
Contributing Writer

In modest contrast with the many international accolades the Apollo 11 crew received, I was the only person in the world, to my knowledge, who received an Apollo 11 “Order of the Gator" award. By way of background, as their Apollo/Saturn V space vehicle lifted off, its four hold-down arms retracted, slamming into heavy wooden blocks that lessened their impact. Someone, somewhere, thought it would be a good idea to make a gavel from a section of one of these blocks for President Richard Nixon. I was assigned to pick up this block at the Launch Control Center and drive it a few miles to Cape Canaveral’s airstrip, where a plane was waiting to fly it somewhere.

But on the way to the LCC, I saw several vehicles, including a tow-truck, parked by a roadside. I stopped and quickly found out that a car had struck a large alligator that was still alive, but immobile—and probably unhappy about the unwanted attention. After determining that a wildlife expert was supervising the effort to tie a line to its tail to tow it safely into the nearby woods, I called for a photographer, so that I could send a follow-up news release to local media about this encounter.

And five months later at my company’s Christmas party, a co-worker, unexpectedly, called me to a podium. He gave me a plaque with the inscription–the “Order of the Gator.” It included an attached stuffed baby caiman, a little brother of the alligator family. My co-worker had composed a poem about my caring about the injured alligator.  During the rescue activity, I completely forgot about my mission to get a small section of a hold-down arm’s wooden block and a not-so-pleasant message boomed over a police car’s radio, asking where the guy with the block was.  So I got back on track, picked up the wood and delivered it to the Cape’s airstrip, but I never heard if the president received this unique gavel.

The "Order of the Gator" award. (Courtesy of Steve Milner)

So to close the loop, I recently called the Richard M. Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California, to see if it had the gavel made from the Apollo 11 launch complex wooden block was displayed there. The person I spoke with said she never heard of or saw it, and referred me to the library’s exhibits web page. In checking it I learned the Nixon Library had opened an exhibit in late April. It’s called, “Apollo 11: One Giant Leap for Mankind.” In viewing this exhibit, visitors sit in a 1969-era living room and watch mission highlights and become part of it, interactively. 

Creative exhibits showing what the Apollo 11 landing experience would have looked like for millions of Americans watching across the nation have literally sprung up across the nation, not just at museums.  This one, featuring a slightly anachronistic television but period-correct furniture, was set up at a thrift store in Raleigh, North Carolina. (M.C. Farrington) 

This exhibit also features lunar rocks, a recreated Apollo command module and the actual telephone Nixon used to call Armstrong and Aldrin on the lunar surface—among other items. I also checked the library’s sales store, hoping it sold Apollo 11 gavel recreations. However, the closest Apollo 11 items it sold included a commemorative half dollar, moon rock candy and a mission ball cap.  So a half-century later, the mystery of Nixon’s Apollo 11 gavel continues.

Editor's Note: In addition to serving as public affairs officer for 17 years at Norfolk Naval Shipyard, Steve Milner was also a public affairs contractor with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration at Cape Canaveral during the manned Gemini, Apollo and Skylab programs.