Of all the offbeat market milestones at Sotheby’s and Christie’s that I’ve witnessed over the course of my checkered journalistic career (a record for a chastity belt comes to mind), this one ($2.77 million, including fees) for a celebrated U.S. astronaut’s space garb, achieved on Tuesday afternoon at Sotheby’s, New York, is not only one of the most arcane, but also one of the most problematic.
This flight jacket, worn by Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon in July 1969 (following in the bootsteps of the late Neil Armstrong), set “a record for an American space-flown artifact” (as announced by Sotheby’s).
Estimated to bring a hammer price of $1-2 million, the jacket was knocked down to a phone bidder for $2.25 million (final price, with fees: $2.77 million). Quig Bruning, better known for his expertise in jewelry, not astronomy, was the auctioneer.
One might have expected that the proceeds from such a landmark sale of property from “an American Icon” (a Sotheby’s anointed Aldrin in the auction’s title) would have been applied, at least in part, for the benefit of science and/or the nation. But when I asked a Sotheby’s press officer, prior to the sale, for details about who would benefit from the proceeds—Aldrin personally or any other recipients—the auction-house spokesperson replied: “Proceeds will directly benefit Buzz himself.” When I inquired again after the sale whether any of the proceeds would go for a public purpose, the answer was: “We can’t comment on future use of proceeds by Aldrin.”
In all, the Aldrin auction totaled some $8.2 million, setting “a new record for the most valuable space exploration sale,” according to Sotheby’s. That said, a series of posthumous sales of objects from Neil Armstrong’s collection, held at Heritage Auctions, Dallas, brought more than Aldrin’s single sale at Sotheby’s, as reported Tuesday by the NY Times.
As quoted in Sotheby’s press statement announcing its sale, Aldrin had stated this:
After deep consideration, the time felt right to share [?!?] these items with the world, which for many are symbols of a historical moment, but for me have always remained personal mementos of a life dedicated to science and exploration. From the jacket that I wore on my trip to the Moon and back, to the famous broken circuit breaker switch that nearly ended our lives, and the pen that saved us, to various artifacts we used to complete the mission, I hope that this collection offers some insight into what it has been like to be Buzz Aldrin.”
The sale of these “personal mementos” and “artifacts” offers some insights into another side of Buzz Aldrin that, out of respect for his age (92) and his achievements, we perhaps shouldn’t dwell on. As a college student on summer break, I was one of the “more than 600 million people around the world” (as described by Sotheby’s) who were riveted by the televised images, in real time (July 20, 1969), of man’s first steps on the moon. To us, the three Apollo astronauts (Armstrong, Aldrin and Michael Collins) were fearless heroes—the embodiment of what humankind could achieve with “one small step for man.” Aldrin is the last surviving member of that triumphant triumvirate.
Underscoring the unseemliness of Aldrin’s disposals is this fact, confirmed to me by a Sotheby’s spokesperson, in response to my queries: “Armstrong’s and Collins’ Inflight Coverall Jackets are housed at the Smithsonian [at the National Air & Space Museum, here and here], along with all three crew members’ A7L pressure suits. So the offering of Aldrin’s jacket was unique [thereby imparting value-enhancing rarity] in that it is the only inflight jacket from Apollo 11 that is available for ownership.”
In other words, he was the only one of the three Apollo 11 astronauts who saw fit to convert his NASA-embellished space attire into cash, whether for himself, his heirs, or other as yet undisclosed beneficiaries.
Cathleen Lewis, curator in the space history department of the Air & Space Museum in Washington, DC (which is temporarily closed through fall 2022, while undergoing a major transformation), unpacked the discrepancy between the disposition of Aldrin’s space garb and that of his two Apollo-mates.
In response to my emailed query, Lewis explained:
My understanding is that many of these decisions were made on an ad hoc basis through the Apollo program. Collins and Armstrong did not make a claim on these items, so they were transferred, along with thousands of other Apollo objects, to the Smithsonian from NASA.
Here’s more from my emailed dialogue with Lewis:
Rosenbaum: Are Armstrong’s and Collins’ items formally owned by (and accessioned by) the National Air & Space Museum, or are they merely on loan there, meaning that the other astronauts could theoretically withdraw their items and also sell them?
Lewis: These items were legally transferred to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. We have full title and if we were to deaccession any of these items, or any other items acquired on the NASA-National Air and Space Museum agreement, we would first offer them back to NASA before offering them to another nonprofit museum.
Rosenbaum: The National Air & Space Museum’s online entries for the Inflight Coverall Jackets of Collins and Armstrong say that “NASA transferred this item to the Museum.” The museum also has an Inflight Coverall Jacket from Aldrin that was “transferred from NASA,” but unlike the others, it is listed as “unflown.” Please explain the reason for this difference: Why was the Aldrin jacket the only one that was “unflown”? Was he the only one who retained the flown one?
Lewis: NASA commissioned numerous duplicates of the inflight cover garments (ICGs) for each astronaut. They transferred what remained of the program of both flown and unflown garments. At one point, the museum owned as many as four complete outfits for some of the Apollo astronauts. In recent years, we have deaccessioned some of these duplicates after first offering to NASA and then on to nonprofit museums.
But back to the Aldrin sale. According to Sotheby’s description of Lot 6:
Following launch and completion of Translunar Injection, Aldrin and the other Apollo 11 crew members changed out of their pressure garments and into their much more comfortable Inflight Coverall Garments (ICGs), which consisted of a jacket, trousers, and boots fashioned from Beta cloth. Aldrin and his crewmates wore these garments for the entire journey to the Moon, with Aldrin and Armstrong changing back into their pressure suits for their descent onto the Lunar Surface, changing back again for their journey home, meaning that the majority of the mission was spent in this garment [i.e., the one that was just sold].
Although the Inflight Coverall Jacket was the unrivaled star of the sale, some 69 lots were offered by Aldrin (all but one of which sold)—everything from the Presidential Medal of Freedom with Distinction, presented to him by Richard Nixon, which bears Buzz’s real name (Edwin E. Aldrin Jr.) on the reverse and trounced its $20,000-30,000 presale estimate…
…to a tie pin depicting the lunar surface with an enameled United States flag, which hammered ad $5,000 ($6,300, with fees):
This high-profile auction was only the most recent and (probably the most lucrative) of Aldrin’s buzzworthy commercial initiatives: He also has his own Apollo Space Shop, selling all sorts of memorabilia, signed by him. He promotes this commercial enterprise on Twitter:
It should be noted that Aldrin is not the only Apollo 11 astronaut whose memorabilia have been monetized: Heritage Auctions, Dallas, held a series of auctions from Neil Armstrong’s estate—everything from his personal copy of NASA’s preliminary Apollo 11 flight plan ($112,500) to his childhood teddy bear ($3,500). The NY Times reported that “some relatives, friends and archivists find the sales unseemly, citing the astronaut’s [Armstrong’s] aversion to cashing in on his celebrity and flying career and the loss of historical objects to the public.” (What we really wanna know is: “Did Teddy go to the moon?”)
If an astronaut’s renown imparts value to his stuffed animals, who’s to begrudge him? But the money generated from government-funded documents, objects and artifacts (as distinguished from personal possessions) that were used on NASA-sponsored missions should benefit NASA and/or the American public, not NASA’s employees or their heirs. That said, according to a report on Space.com (which was forwarded to me by Lewis of the Air & Space Museum), a federal law passed in 2012 did grant to NASA’s Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo crew members “full ownership rights” to the artifacts that they received and retained more than 40 years ago.
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