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This oversized, colorful stamp was one of the last to be issued by the old U.S. Post Office Department before it was replaced by the U.S. Postal Service, an independent government agency, on July 1, 1970. Its story is unique in the long chronicle of U.S. philately. For one thing, it was printed from a master die which Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin carried with them to the Moon on the lunar module Eagle. Second, it was the largest postage stamp the United States had issued up to that time. Its design was 1.80 by 1.05 inches, and its overall size was 1 61/64 by 1 15/64 inches, making it 50 percent larger than conventional U.S. issued commemoratives. (These so-called "jumbo" dimensions later were used for several commemorative stamps issued in the early 1970s.)

Finally, production of the design and die were carried out in secrecy by officials of the Post Office and the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, just as had been done with the Project Mercury commemorative of 1962. It wasn't until July 9, 1969, a week before Apollo 11 was launched, that Postmaster General Winton M. Blount disclosed plans for the stamp and attendant details.

On that date, Blount announced that "Apollo 11 will mark America's first mail run to the Moon." In a public-relations masterstroke credited to Julian Scheer, NASA's assistant administrator for public affairs, Blount revealed that the astronauts would take with them the engraved die that later would be used to make the stamp's printing plates, along with a special "Moon letter" bearing a die proof of the stamp. The letter would be personally postmarked by Armstrong and Aldrin while they were on the Moon, Blount said.

The entire project was carried out with the knowledge and approval of President Richard M. Nixon. To preserve secrecy, Blount said, there had been no "paperwork" involved. Rather than use messengers to carry materials between the Post Office Department and the Bureau, official staff workers served as couriers. Those who didn't need to know about the stamp weren't brought into the loop.

Paul Calle, the designer, was fully briefed, of course. Calle, of Stamford, Connecticut, was an established artist, well-known for his oil paintings and pencil drawings alike. His drawings, some of them very large, were notable for the control and sensitivity they displayed, giving them the quality of fine etchings.

Calle had launched a freelance illustration career after completing high school at age 15, and graduated from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, at 19. In the 1950s, he had illustrated science-fiction stories; since 1963 he had been painting and sketching the real thing - astronauts, rockets and space vehicles - as one of the original artists in NASA's Fine Art Program. These eight NASA artists were assigned to create a permanent record and interpretation of history in the making. At 35, Paul Calle was the youngest of the group. Beginning with Gordon Cooper's Project Mercury flight in May 1963, Calle had documented the action of the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo flights from the launch facilities of Cape Kennedy to the recovery carriers in the South Atlantic.

When Postmaster General Blount informed Stevan Dohanos, chairman of the Citizens' Stamp Advisory Committee, of the plan to create a Moon landing stamp in secret, Dohanos chose Calle to create the design on the basis of his NASA experience and his work on the Gemini "Space Twins" commemorative stamps of 1967.

"My initial rough thinking sketches explored the concept of a design incorporating the Moon, Earth and the lunar landing module," Calle wrote in The Pencil, his book on the art of pencil drawing. "My second series of rough pencil sketches evolved into the 'First Man on the Moon' concept. "In the evolution of the design, it quickly became obvious that the first step on the Moon was the most dramatic moment, and with that final sketch we knew we had our design!"

There was a problem, however. How could Calle be sure his picture, which had to be completed a month before the launch of Apollo 11, would be accurate? NASA provided photographs or duplicates of all the equipment that would be involved in the landing, including a lunar module which Calle viewed at the plant of the manufacturer, the Grumman Corporation. In addition, Calle knew that Armstrong would put his left foot down first as he came off the module's own, padded "foot"; that was choreographed in advance.

What he didn't know - what no one knew - was whether the landing area would be solid or powdery, and, if it was the latter, how deep the module would sink. The artist took a chance and showed the module's tripod foot making a barely perceptible imprint. Fortunately, that turned out to be exactly what happened.

Many collectors were quick to assume that the stamp violated the federal law forbidding the use of a living person's picture on U.S. postage. The individual on the stamp, though his features were completely hidden by a space suit, could have been none other than Neil Armstrong. However, the Post Office was careful to describe the subject simply as "a spaceman" in its press releases. The picture was symbolic, not literal, postal officials said, and this same explanation - unconvincing though some found it to be - was later used to defend the designs of the 20th Anniversary and 25th Anniversary stamps as well.

Calle went to Cape Kennedy for the Apollo 11 liftoff July 16. Before the launch, he was scheduled to sketch the astronauts as they breakfasted and suited up in their quarters. He was the only outsider present for these events.

Getting an artist into this highly restricted area "took a lot of persuading both at NASA headquarters and at the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston," recalled James Dean, director of the NASA Fine Art Program, in the book Paul Calle: An Artist's Journey.

"My plan was finally approved," Dean continued, "and I believe it was partly because of the record of achievement in developing the NASA Art Collection and mostly because I had selected Paul Calle for the assignment.

"Calle had proven himself on previous art projects with NASA, particularly the Gemini Sketchbook, and his coverage of Apollo 7, the first manned Apollo flight. Also, we at NASA knew that Calle had been selected by the U.S. Postal Service to design the First Man on the Moon commemorative stamp." Being chosen for this privilege had a drawback, though. Everyone who would come in contact with the crew had to adhere to strict medical quarantine procedures to eliminate the possibility of transmitting a virus or bacteria to them. Calle had to undergo a physical examination, keep a record of any illness and report periodically to medical authorities.

"I had to keep track of every sniffle, every cough," the artist recalled. "It was an honor system, but I knew the historical significance of the mission, so I was careful, and, happily, nothing happened." Later, when he arrived at Cape Kennedy, he underwent another physical and was pronounced healthy enough to be with the crew.

At the crew building, in the predawn darkness of launch morning, Calle was checked through security. He had a moment of panic when a guard couldn't find his name on the official access list, but chief astronaut "Deke" Slayton intervened and got him in. Clad in white gown, cap and surgeon's face mask, Calle entered the room where Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins were having breakfast, and began sketching.

"Mike (Collins) kept looking at me drawing," Calle said. "He kept eating, then he'd look up. He did this several times. Finally he asked, 'Is that you, Paul, behind that mask?' I said, 'Yes. Remember, you invited me to lunch sometime. Well, this isn't lunch, but here I am!' "He stopped eating and came over to look at my sketches. I was amazed. Here he was on his way to the Moon, and he stops to look at my drawings."

When breakfast was finished, the suiting up began, with the aid of crews of technicians, one crew to each astronaut. Piece by piece the cumbersome uniforms were pulled on and checked, fishbowl helmets were snapped in place and the suits were pressurized, with Calle recording it all in drawing after drawing. After the operation was completed and the astronauts headed for the elevator, Neil Armstrong turned and, with his arm raised, gave Calle a thumbs-up sign - a gesture which the artist quickly recorded in a sketch.

"Paul's intrusion is not resented," Michael Collins later wrote, recalling that momentous morning in his autobiography Carrying the Fire, "as he is obviously a professional, hopefully among other pros. We are hardly aware of him and his sketch pad."

Calle was still sketching, this time from outside, with other spectators at a safe distance from the launch pad, at 9:32 a.m. as Apollo 11 took off atop its mighty Saturn rocket. Four days later, at 40 seconds after 4:17 p.m., Eastern Daylight time, July 20, the lunar module Eagle landed on the Moon, carrying Armstrong and Aldrin. Collins remained in the Columbia command module orbiting overhead.

As the world watched and listened via television and radio, Apollo 11 Commander Armstrong sent the good news from 235,000 miles away: "Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed." Later that same day, at 20 seconds after 10:56 p.m. EDT, Armstrong descended a ladder, stepped off the lunar module's footed to the Moon's surface and radioed his famous message: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

Back home in Connecticut, Paul Calle recalled, he and his family "sat glued to the television set." "Fortunately, when Armstrong took that first step, it was perfect," he said. "Just as I envisioned it on the stamp. I knew I would paint that scene again."

Aldrin later joined Armstrong on the Moon's surface. As it turned out, the two astronauts found themselves too busy with scientific and other duties to carry out the assignment of postmarking the "Moon letter." So the envelope and its die proof actually were given the "MOON LANDING/USA/JUL/20/1969" hand stamp during the return journey.

"Never mind that it is July 22," Michael Collins wrote in Carrying the Fire, "this is the first chance we have had to get to it. We try the cancellation out first, inking it and printing it in our flight plan three times until we get the hang of it, and then we apply it gingerly to the one and only envelope, which we understand the postmaster general will put on tour."

The hand stamp itself had been specially made for Apollo 11 by the Baumgarten Company of Washington, D.C., a manufacturer of rubber stamps for postal use since 1888. When the canceling device was delivered, NASA officials told the company it was too heavy; on the Moon mission, and especially on the Eagle's liftoff from the Moon's surface, not an ounce of excess weight could be allowed. So a Baumgarten worker drilled a series of holes in the wooden handle and mount. "It looked like a piece of Swiss cheese when we were finished," recalled James A. Baturin, the firm's president.

The Post Office noted with pride that the Moon letter traveled more than a half-million miles, the longest distance any piece of mail had ever gone. As announced in advance, the letter underwent a decontamination period at Houston, along with the astronauts themselves - who were quarantined for 18 days - and the other materials that had been on the Moon's surface.

The die was especially processed for decontamination before the prescribed quarantine period had elapsed and was flown in a special plane from the Houston Space Center to Washington, where it was hurried to the office of Postmaster General Blount.

On July 31, Blount provided press photographers with a quick look at the die, then sent it to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, where the process of preparing the plates for stamp production began promptly. The die then was returned to the Post Office Department to be placed on display in the department's Philatelic Exhibition Room, along with the Moon letter, once it had cleared decontamination. These unique artifacts later became a part of an elaborate traveling exhibit that was shown throughout the nation and abroad.

The Moon letter, the die and the hand stamp presumably are still in Postal Service archives, although officials were unable to say for certain that this is the case.

The Bureau of Engraving and Printing printed the Moon Landing stamp by a combination of offset photolithography and recess engraving. Robert J. Jones was the modeler and the engraving was done by Edward R. Felver (vignette) and Albert Saavedra (lettering).

Yellow and light blue, and then red and dark blue, were applied in two passes through the two-color Harris offset presses. Then, black for the picture, blue for the bottom inscription "FIRST MAN ON THE MOON," and red for the vertical "UNITED STATES" inscription at the right were added in a single pass through a Giori press.

Because of its size, the stamp was produced in sheets of 128 rather than 200 subjects, cut into post- office panes of 32 instead of the usual 50. A total of 152,364,800 stamps were printed and distributed.

The stamp's dedication September 9 was in conjunction with National Postal Forum 111, the third annual meeting of top business executives and Post Office officials in Washington, D.C., held for an exchange of ideas on the Postal Service. The three Apollo 11 astronauts were on hand for the event. On the following day, they were honored at a joint session of Congress.

The stamp inspired great interest among First Day Cover collectors. Within three weeks after the July 9 initial announcement, the Washington City Post Office had received 500,000 requests for First Day Covers, which would bear not only the September 9 Washington, D.C., date stamp but also a replica of the July 20 "MOON LANDING USA" date stamp that the astronauts applied to the Moon letter. About one-fifth of these requests came from overseas, an unprecedented high demand for a U.S. stamp. The response was especially heavy from Australia, Great Britain, France and Belgium, but altogether more than 100 countries were heard from.

The final tally of First Day Covers was an "astronomical" (the Post Office's word) 8,743,070, a figure that nearly tripled the previous high of three million. By comparison, even the Elvis Presley commemorative stamp of January 8, 1993, one of the most phenomenally popular stamps ever printed, received only 4,451,718 official Memphis, Tennessee, First Day of Issue postmarks. A first- day processing crew of 40 was quickly expanded to 100 when the demand for Moon landing Covers swelled, but, even so, it took five months to complete the task.

One major error variety of the stamp has been recorded. Some specimens are missing the offset red color, which consists of the flag stripes on the astronaut's shoulder patch and a series of light red dots over the yellow portions of the lunar module and the astronaut's face plate. Error stamps were first found in the El Paso, Texas, area in October 1969. The variety has the Scott catalog number C76a. A vertical pair of Moon Landing stamps, one normal and one with the red missing, was sold for $360 at a Jacques C. Schiff Jr. Inc. auction December 11, 1993.

The Bureau of Engraving and Printing also had problems with registration on the stamp, and numerous copies have been found with noticeable shifts in the offset colors. Stamps on which the shifts are extreme enough command a premium price. For example, a plate number block of four with the offset colors shifted down so the Earth touches the Moon, and the stars on the shoulder-patch flag are beneath the stripes, sold for $57.50 at a Schiff auction January 29, 1994. As for Paul Calle's premonition on July 20 that he would "paint that scene again" (Neil Armstrong's first step on the Moon) it came true, of course. Later in the summer Calle began work on a four-by- eight-foot oil painting called The Great Moment.

With no photograph in existence of this event, the painting has become the most authoritative visual record for posterity. When the work was shown at the National Air and Space Museum in 1989 as part of an exhibition commemorating the 20th Anniversary of Apollo 11, Hank Burchard wrote in The Washington Post:

"...Paul Calle runs away with the show. There's nervous boldness in his composition of 'First Step on the Moon' (The Great Moment, 1969) in which Neil Armstrong's exit from the lunar lander is dwarfed by the harsh bleakness of the moonscape and the vast black void of space.

United States Space Stamps