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Tuesday, December 27, 2011 – Daily News 3B Decades later, a Cold War secret is revealed Note to readers. An abbreviated version of this story ran on page 2B in Monday's edition. This represents the full text of the story: DANBURY, Conn. (AP) — For more than a decade they toiled in the strange, boxy-looking building on the hill above the municipal air- port, the building with no windows (except in the cafeteria), the build- ing filled with secrets. They wore protective white jumpsuits, and had to walk through air- shower chambers before entering the sanitized "cleanroom" where the equipment was stored. They spoke in code. Few knew the true identity of "the cus- tomer" they met in a smoke-filled, wood-pan- eled conference room where the phone lines were scrambled. When they traveled, they some- times used false names. At one point in the 1970s there were more than 1,000 people in the Danbury area working on The Secret. And though they worked long hours under intense deadlines, sometimes missing family holidays and anniversaries, they could tell no one — not even their wives and children — what they did. They were engineers, scientists, draftsmen and inventors — "real cloak- and-dagger guys," says Fred Marra, 78, with a hearty laugh. He is sitting in the food court at the Dan- bury Fair mall, where a group of retired co- workers from the former Perkin-Elmer Corp. gather for a weekly cof- fee. Gray-haired now and hard of hearing, they have been meeting here for 18 years. They while away a few hours natter- ing about golf and poli- tics, ailments and grand- children. But until recently, they were for- bidden to speak about the greatest achievement of their professional lives. "Ah, Hexagon," Ed Newton says, gleefully exhaling the word that stills feels almost treaso- nous to utter in public. It was dubbed "Big Bird" and it was consid- ered the most successful space spy satellite pro- gram of the Cold War era. From 1971 to 1986 a total of 20 satellites were launched, each contain- ing 60 miles of film and sophisticated cameras that orbited the earth snapping vast, panoram- ic photographs of the 'Learning about Hexagon makes me view him completely differently. He was more than just my Dad with the hair-trig- ger temper and passionate opinions about everything. He was a Cold War warrior doing something incredibly important for our nation' — Mayor Mark Boughton Soviet Union, China and other potential foes. The film was shot back through the earth's atmosphere in buckets that parachuted over the Pacific Ocean, where C- 130 Air Force planes snagged them with grap- pling hooks. The scale, ambition and sheer ingenuity of Hexagon KH-9 was breathtaking. The fact that 19 out of 20 launch- es were successful (the final mission blew up because the booster rockets failed) is aston- ishing. So too is the human tale of the 45-year-old secret that many took to their graves. Hexagon was declas- sified in September. Finally Marra, Newton and others can tell the world what they worked on all those years at "the office." "My name is Al Gay- hart and I built spy satel- lites for a living," announced the 64-year- old retired engineer to the stunned bartender in his local tavern as soon as he learned of the declassification. He proudly repeats the line any chance he gets. "It was intensely demanding, thrilling and the greatest experience of my life," says Gay- hart, who was hired straight from college and was one of the youngest members of the Hexagon "brotherhood". He describes the white-hot excitement as teams pored over hand- drawings and worked on endless technical prob- lems, using "slide-rules and advanced degrees" (there were no comput- ers), knowing they were part of such a complicat- ed space project. The intensity would increase as launch deadlines loomed and on the days when "the customer" — the CIA and later the Air Force — came for brief- ings. On at least one occasion, former Presi- dent George H.W. Bush, Oh Snap! The Daily News wants your photos: Cute kids, Adorable pets, Inspirational sights, Any shot you think readers would enjoy You might just see it in the Daily News Send pictures to editor@redbluffdailynews.com or drop off at 545 Diamond Ave. in Red Bluff. Include a caption. Shop Local This Christmas D NEWSAILY RED BLUFF TEHAMACOUNTY AUTO ROUTE DRIVER WANTED Must be 21 years of age or older & bondable. Show someone you really care by giving them Better Health and Happiness This Christmas! With a gift certificate from Premier Fitness Facility Tehama County's Call or apply in person at Red Bluff Daily News Circulation Dept. 545 Diamond Ave., Red Bluff, CA Or phone Circulation @ (530) 527-2151 ext 128 Tehama Family Fitness Center 2498 South Main St • Red Bluff 528-8656 www.tehamafamilyfitness.com EARN EXTRA CASH who was then CIA direc- tor, flew into Danbury for a tour of the plant. Though other compa- nies were part of the pro- ject — Eastman Kodak made the film and Lock- heed Corp. built the satellite — the cameras and optics systems were all made at Perkin- Elmer, then the biggest employer in Danbury. "There were many days we arrived in the dark and left in the dark," says retired engi- neer Paul Brickmeier, 70. He recalls the very first briefing on Hexa- gon after Perkin-Elmer was awarded the top secret contract in 1966. Looking around the room at his 30 or so col- leagues, Brickmeier thought, "How on Earth is this going to be possi- ble?" One thing that made it possible was a hiring frenzy that attracted the attention of top engi- neers from around the Northeast. Perkin-Elmer also commissioned a new 270,000-square-foot building for Hexagon — the boxy one on the hill. Waiting for clearance was a surreal experience as family members, neighbors and former employers were grilled by the FBI, and potential hires were questioned about everything from their gambling habits to their sexuality. "They wanted to make sure we couldn't be bribed," Marra says. Clearance could take up to a year. During that time, employees worked on relatively minor tasks in a building dubbed "the mushroom tank" — so named because everyone was in the dark about what they had actually been hired for. Joseph Prusak, 76, spent six months in the tank. When he was final- ly briefed on Hexagon, Prusak, who had worked as an engineer on earlier civil space projects, wondered if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. "I thought they were crazy," he says. "They envisaged a satellite that was 60-foot long and 30,000 pounds and sup- plying film at speeds of 200 inches per second. The precision and com- plexity blew my mind." Several years later, after numerous success- ful launches, he was shown what Hexagon was capable of — an image of his own house in suburban Fairfield. "This was light years before Google Earth," Prusak said. "And we could clearly see the pool in my backyard." There had been earlier space spy satellites — Corona and Gambit. But neither had the resolu- tion or sophistication of Hexagon, which took close-range pictures of Soviet missiles, subma- rine pens and air bases, even entire battalions on war exercises. According to the National Reconnais- sance Office, a single Hexagon frame covered a ground distance of 370 nautical miles, about the distance from Washing- ton to Cincinnati. Early Hexagons averaged 124 days in space, but as the satellites became more sophisticated, later mis- sions lasted twice as long. "At the height of the Cold War, our ability to receive this kind of tech- nical intelligence was incredible," says space historian Dwayne Day. "We needed to know what they were doing and where they were doing it, and in particu- lar if they were prepar- ing to invade Western Europe. Hexagon creat- ed a tremendous amount of stability because it meant American deci- sion makers were not operating in the dark." Among other success- es, Hexagon is credited with providing crucial information for the Strategic Arms Limita- tion Talks between the United States and the Soviet Union in the 1970s. From the outset, secrecy was a huge con- cern, especially in Dan- bury, where the intense activity of a relatively small company that had just been awarded a mas- sive contract (the amount was not declassi- fied) made it obvious that something big was going on. Inside the plant, it was impossible to disguise the gigantic vacuum thermal cham- ber where cameras were tested in extreme condi- tions that simulated space. There was also a "shake, rattle and roll room" to simulate condi- tions during launch. "The question became, how do you hide an elephant?" a National Reconnais- sance Office report stat- ed at the time. It decided on a simple response: "What elephant?" Employees were told to ignore any questions from the media, and never confirm the slight- est detail about what they worked on. But it was impossible to conceal the launches at Vandenberg Air Force base in California, and aviation magazines made several references to "Big Bird." In 1975, a "60 Minutes" television piece on space recon- naissance described an "Alice in Wonderland" world, where American and Soviet intelligence officials knew of each other's "eyes in the sky" — and other nations did, too — but no one con- firmed the programs or spoke about them pub- licly. For employees at Perkin-Elmer, the vow of secrecy was considered a mark of honor. "We were like the guys who worked on the first atom bomb," said Oscar Berendsohn, 87, who helped design the optics system. "It was more than a sworn oath. We had been entrusted with the security of the country. What greater trust is there?" Even wives — who couldn't contact their husbands or know of their whereabouts when they were traveling — for the most part accept- ed the secrecy. They knew the jobs were high- ly classified. They knew not to ask questions. "We were born into the World War II genera- tion," says Linda Broni- co, whose husband, Al, told her only that he was building test consoles and cables. "We all knew the slogan 'loose lips sink ships.'" And Perkin-Elmer was considered a prized place to work, with good salaries and benefits, golf and softball leagues, lavish summer picnics (the company would hire an entire amusement park for employees and their families) and dazzling children's Christmas parties. "We loved it," Marra says. "It was our life." For Marra and his for- mer co-workers, sharing that life and their long- held secret has unleashed a jumble of emotions, from pride to nostalgia to relief — and in some cases, grief. The city's mayor, Mark Boughton, only discovered that his father had worked on Hexagon when he was invited to speak at an October reunion cere- mony on the grounds of the former plant. His father, Donald Boughton, also a former mayor, was too ill to attend and died a few days later. Boughton said for years he and his siblings would pester his father — a draftsman — about what he did. Eventually they realized that the topic was off limits. "Learning about Hexagon makes me view him completely differ- ently," Boughton says. "He was more than just my Dad with the hair- trigger temper and pas- sionate opinions about everything. He was a Cold War warrior doing something incredibly important for our nation." For Betty Osterweis the ceremony was bitter- sweet, too. Not only did she learn about the mys- tery of her late hus- band's professional life. She also learned about his final moments. "All these years," she said, "I had wondered what exactly had hap- pened" on that terrible day in 1987 when she received a phone call saying her 53-year-old husband, Henry Oster- weis, a contract negotia- tor, had suffered a heart attack on the job. At the reunion she met former co-workers who could offer some comfort that the end had been quick. Standing in the grounds of her late hus- band's workplace, listen- ing to the tributes, her son and daughter and grandchildren by her side, Osterweis was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all — the sacrifice, the secrecy, the pride. "To know that this was more than just a company selling widgets ... that he was negotiat- ing contracts for our country's freedom and security," she said. "What a secret. And what a legacy." EARN EXTRA CASH