To help people understand his long career at NASA, Paul Dye (B.A.E.M. ’82) sometimes finds it easiest to reference the acclaimed film Apollo 13.

“You know that guy in the white vest with the crew cut who famously says, ‘Failure is not an option?’ Well, that’s what I did,” he says.

“That guy” was legendary flight director Gene Kranz, whose chair would later be filled by Dye. And what Dye did is nothing short of amazing in the world of aviation and beyond.

When he retired in 2013, Dye cemented his legacy as the longest-serving flight director in human spaceflight history, having occupied mission control’s center seat for 20 years, overseeing 39 space shuttle flights, and nine of which he served as the lead flight director. (Interestingly, another alum, Michele Brekke [B.A.E.M. ’75, M.S. ’77] became NASA’s first female flight director.)

In Dye’s role, he coordinated the work of thousands of mission planners, flight controllers, trainers, and astronauts, and was responsible for the real-time execution of all facets of the shuttle flights.

And right next to that famous center seat, Dye brought a piece of his alma mater with him.

“I was known at NASA for always having an insulated Minnesota Gophers mug on the console with me—right where the cameras could see it. Because no matter where I live, I will always be a Minnesotan at heart.”

Taking off

Growing up in Roseville, Dye had an early interest in aviation, and earned his private pilot’s license as a teenager. When he pondered college, he recalled a book written by a World War II pilot whose goal was to attend the U of M because it had “the second-best aeronautical engineering school in the country.”

Dye was hooked. “I loved everything about flying, and I lived only eight miles away, so the U became my goal,” he says.

One day in his supersonic aerodynamics class, a professor made an announcement that would launch Dye’s future career. “I was sort of wondering what the future would bring when a professor held up a piece of paper and said, ‘I got this notice that NASA is looking for some kind of interns. If you’re interested, I’ll leave it on the table here,’” he recalls.

Dye swiftly grabbed it after class, applied, and was accepted into the NASA-Johnson Space Center’s Cooperative Education program in Houston. Alternating semesters in Minnesota and Texas, he eventually earned his degree in 1982 in aeronautical engineering with a specialization in aircraft design and flight testing. “NASA looked at my resume and assigned me to mission operations. And when I got my degree, they made me a permanent offer.”

Preparing to launch

Dye worked his way up within the U.S. Manned Space Program until serving as the overall lead from 1993-2013, supporting the ongoing mission of the International Space Station.

“There are countless special experiences from my NASA years that were unique, ‘pinch-me’ moments,” he says. “Spacewalks, retrieving satellites, docking with the Mir Space Station ... we were blessed to do so many things that will go down in history.”

Dye documented those memories and more in a book, Shuttle, Houston: My Life in the Center Seat of Mission Control, published by Hachette Books in 2020.

In an oral history maintained by NASA, Dye recounted his long tenure with the organization: “You never really relax when you’re flying with a big spacecraft and you’re responsible for half a million pounds of spacecraft up there.

“We have something that we talk about, that was described to me when I came [to NASA]. ... It was described to me as the ‘burning rocks syndrome.’ People tend to keep little problems in the back of their minds until they get really close to flight, and they can’t stand it anymore and they have to bring those issues up,” Dye explained. “It’s called ‘burning rocks’ because apparently just before the Apollo 11 moon landing, some scientist, well-respected in his field, said, ‘I’m really afraid that when the lunar module engine touches the moon that it could be the wrong composition of chemicals and the moon might explode.’ And, of course, he brought this up a couple of hours before powered descent. Well, [I’m sure the flight director thought] ‘thank you very much, but couldn’t you have told me this before we went to the moon?’”

Today, Dye and his wife, Louise Hose—a geology professor, internationally known cave explorer, and pilot—live near Carson City, Nevada, in a residential airpark, of course. He is also the editor-at-large of Kitplanes, a magazine dedicated to homebuilt aircrafts for a range of builders, from college grads to empty nesters and retirees.

“Kits are pretty sophisticated now and much more approachable to someone who didn’t learn welding in high school shop class. They’re available for very simple, slow airplanes on up to expensive, fast-traveling machines,” he says.

Dye is also deeply involved in the experimental aircraft movement and test-flies aircraft for individuals and for magazine evaluations. Last spring he was inducted into the Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame.

“The U of M taught me how to pursue many goals at the same time. By the end of my NASA career, I realized my goal was to pass on everything that had been taught to me by Gene and the Apollo guys to the next generation,” Dye says.

“Leading a team of folks when every moment counted, and there was zero room for mistakes—that is a special feeling. Watching people being flawless is priceless.”

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