He Left Big Footprints on Both the Moon, Earth

Neil Armstrong shot to world-wide fame as the first person to step on the surface of the moon, a feat that marked a new era of human exploration. For the rest of his life he largely shunned the limelight.

Mr. Armstrong waved as he headed to the van that would take the crew to the rocket at Kennedy Space Center on July 16, 1969.

Mr. Armstrong's family released a statement Saturday confirming that he died from complications "resulting from cardiovascular procedures" performed Aug. 8, three days after his 82nd birthday.

As commander of Apollo 11 in 1969, Mr. Armstrong punctuated his exploit with the memorable phrase, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." The mission transfixed people around the globe, including nearly one million spectators who flocked to the Florida launch site.

He resisted getting caught up in the hoopla, years later calling himself a "nerdy engineer." Bucking intense pressure to use his celebrity status for political purposes or personal gain, the self-effacing Midwesterner left it to others to ponder the significance and broader meaning of his accomplishment.

Armstrong, before he blasted off for the moon in 1969 with Michael Collins and Edwin 'Buzz' Aldrin.

The statement from Mr. Armstrong's family referred to him as "a reluctant American hero who always believed he was just doing his job."

Mr. Armstrong was born in Wapakoneta, Ohio, on Aug. 5, 1930, and spent part of his teenage years on a farm about 60 miles from where Orville and Wilbur Wright more than 25 years earlier experimented. He took his first airplane ride at 6 years old.

Mr. Armstrong flew 78 missions as a Navy combat pilot in the Korean War and later gained prominence as a civilian government test pilot.

During his historic moon exploration on July 20, 1969, some of Mr. Armstrong's other transmissions reflected his unflappable demeanor. Before returning to a ticker-tape parade and a 28-city world tour, the aviator was understated in describing his situation and surroundings some 240,000 miles above Earth. In one of his first transmissions to controllers on the ground, he calmly told them: "I tell you, we're going to be busy for a minute."

Later in the mission, Mr. Armstrong, who earned his pilot's license as a teenager and idolized Charles Lindbergh, epitomized the calm, assured tone astronauts prized. "It's different, but it's very pretty out here," he matter-of-factly told controllers. "I suppose they are going to make a big deal of all this."

After the voyage, Mr. Armstrong worked for a year as a high-level official at National Aeronautics and Space Administration headquarters. In his authorized biography, published in 2005, Mr. Armstrong fumed at the bureaucracy and the burden of frequent "appearances on demand" by lawmakers on Capitol Hill. He resigned and went on to teach at the University of Cincinnati.

Starting about 1980, he largely retreated from public view to enjoy the tranquillity of a restored 19th-century farmhouse. He raised cattle and corn, served on corporate boards and enjoyed his grandchildren. Always reluctant to talk to reporters, Mr. Armstrong sometimes seemed uncomfortable even when he gave speeches or attended events commemorating advances in aviation and space.

Before the Apollo 11 launch, armies of reporters vainly tried to find out what personal items the crew decided to carry with them. It wasn't until more than three decades later that Mr. Armstrong revealed to his biographer, James Hansen, that his personal memorabilia included some jewelry for his wife and mother, an old fraternity pin from Purdue University and some Apollo 11 medallions. According to the book, however, Mr. Armstrong was most proud of safely transporting a piece of the historic Wright Brothers Flyer to and from the Moon.

Even at his death, the family statement stressed his private side. "As much as Neil cherished his privacy," it said, "he always appreciated the expressions of good will from people around the world and from all walks of life."

Mr. Armstrong's biography quotes his first wife, Janet, saying that he "didn't like being singled out or to feel that people were still wanting to touch him or get his autograph." The two divorced in 1994, and Mr. Armstrong remarried that year.

In January 1986, when the space shuttle Challenger exploded shortly after liftoff killing all seven aboard, then-President Ronald Reagan personally asked Mr. Armstrong to serve as vice chairman of the commission set up to investigate the accident. In some of the group's public sessions, the former NASA loyalist turned out to be tough and persistent in demanding answers from government officials and contractors alike. Besides focusing on management lapses, at one point Mr. Armstrong pointedly called the rocket and its external boosters "a tender design."

In the late 1990s, Mr. Armstrong sold his personal plane but kept his pilot's license for the occasional opportunity to fly an unusual or interesting aircraft.

The Armstrong family's statement ends with the following request: "Honor his example of service, accomplishment and modesty, and the next time you walk outside on a clear night and see the moon smiling down at you, think of Neil Armstrong and give him a wink."