Synonymous with space, Texas is far more than Houston being informed of a problem, and after an incredible tour of Firefly’s rocket facilities in Briggs, Texas, with Space Force Association, I needed to dig in.
Texas got into aerospace the way Texas gets into anything: by building a messy, expensive, politically complicated machine that becomes unavoidable.
If you want a simple story, go watch Apollo 13 and call it a day. The real story is that Texas has been stacking aerospace capability for generations, across Houston’s human spaceflight brain trust, North Texas’ industrial-scale defense and aviation manufacturing, the Gulf Coast’s petrochemical-grade heavy engineering, Austin’s hardware-plus-software startup metabolism, and West Texas’ wide-open test ranges where you can light rockets without immediately annoying millions of neighbors. That geographic diversity is the structural reason Texas keeps winning aerospace and space activity even when the headlines bounce between “Space City” and “Starbase.”
Yes, I’m going to use the phrase “Texas Aerospace Space,” because the sector is now one fused ecosystem: airlines, MRO (maintenance/repair/overhaul), avionics, rotorcraft, drones, eVTOL, satellites, lunar missions, propulsion testing, spaceports, workforce pipelines, defense procurement, and venture financing. Trying to separate “space” from “aerospace” in Texas is like separating barbecue from brisket; technically possible but meaningfully lying.
Article Highlights
Space City Launches a State-sized Flight Stack
Houston became “Space City” because NASA put the nation’s human spaceflight nerve center there.
NASA’s Johnson Space Center (originally the Manned Spacecraft Center) opened in the 1960s, and it’s been designing, developing, and testing spacecraft, training crews, and running Mission Control ever since. NASA’s history page defines the role: JSC has overseen NASA’s human spaceflight missions at the Mission Control Center.
That matters culturally (Houston’s identity) and economically (a durable cluster of contractors, engineers, and adjacent industries). But if you stop at NASA, you miss the shift: Texas went from being a government space state to being a commercial space state, without losing the government base. That’s the barbecue sauce. Where Florida has rockets, California has talent, Colorado has space business, and Alabama has NASA heritage, Texas has all of those ingredients in one state, spread across multiple metros, plus a regulatory posture that tends to say “build” more often than “submit a 43-page environmental narrative before you’re allowed to buy a wrench.”
The commercial shift shows up as physical infrastructure, policy, and new institutional players.
Houston Spaceport at Ellington, for example, is a federally licensed commercial spaceport on 400 acres at Ellington Airport, built as a hub for aerospace and aviation companies and for R&D and fabrication. Space “ecosystems” collapse when they can’t test, integrate, assemble, and iterate locally – that’s your summary; your, “Why Texas.” A lot like health innovation, you don’t build this stuff a coworking space.
And then there’s South Texas: SpaceX’s Boca Chica / Starbase complex turned a once-quiet tip of the state into a manufacturing-and-launch reality show, except the props are stainless steel rockets and the audience is the global aerospace supply chain. The cultural point isn’t whether you love Elon Musk. The economic point is that a rapid-iteration launch-and-manufacturing site creates gravitational pull for suppliers, machinists, welders, avionics talent, software, and mission operations. Even the debates around Starbase’s growth underline that this is a real industrial footprint with real benefits (and consequences).
So: Houston gave Texas the institutional brain. South Texas gave it a commercial launch factory. North Texas gave it manufacturing scale. Austin adds startup tempo. West Texas gaves it test space.
That’s a state-sized flight stack.
The Origin Story: Aerospace Before Space
Texas aerospace didn’t begin with rockets. It began with aviation (military, commercial, and industrial) because Texas sits at the intersection of geography (big skies, big distances), defense (bases and procurement), and manufacturing logistics.
North Texas is the simplest example, where Fort Worth is one of the country’s most consequential defense aerospace manufacturing nodes, anchored by Lockheed Martin Aeronautics and its fighter production footprint. Lockheed Martin itself highlights the North Texas manufacturing line producing the F-35.
That legacy does two underappreciated things for the space economy.
First, it normalizes complex manufacturing at scale; space hardware isn’t just innovation, it’s process control, QA, supplier qualification, and people who don’t panic when a tolerance issue ruins the week.
Second, it builds the middle of the labor market: technicians, machinists, inspectors, electricians, program managers; exactly the jobs space startups need but most innovation ecosystems forget exist because they’re too busy building panels about AI in the metaverse taking our jobs.
SWIFT (Space Workforce Incubator for Texas) is explicitly trying to solve that workforce reality with a statewide pipeline across educational institutions and industry, aimed at space talent development. And the reason SWIFT is necessary is also the reason Texas has an advantage: the space economy is not mainly PhDs. It’s a lot of skilled technical work; SWIFT’s own analysis emphasizes the need for welders, machinists, and certifications, not just rocket scientists.
Similar, or really, the same, industrial competencies power both.
The Modern Engine: NASA + commercial space + defense + advanced air
Texas now has multiple, overlapping “centers of gravity,” each pulling a different part of the aerospace-space stack into the state.
Houston remains a human-spaceflight and mission-operations epicenter through NASA JSC but Houston is also now a commercial space HQ town.
Axiom Space, founded in Houston, is building commercial space infrastructure and planning a commercial space station, while also running human spaceflight services. Axiom’s own announcement of its Houston HQ and mission makes the ambition explicit.
Intuitive Machines (Houston) is a different kind of proof: a commercial lunar program with missions under NASA’s Commercial Lunar Payload Services (CLPS) framework. NASA’s release on Firefly’s Blue Ghost landing underscores how NASA is using commercial partners to deliver payloads and science; and Intuitive Machines’ mission pages and NASA releases show the cadence of lunar activity and the seriousness of the payload work.
Austin and the Austin metro area are building a parallel story: space hardware and propulsion capability on one side (Firefly Aerospace in Cedar Park is the obvious anchor), and advanced air mobility on the other (eVTOL, drones, autonomy).
Firefly’s Blue Ghost program is not a startup pitch deck, it’s a lunar lander that successfully delivered NASA science and ran surface operations: real mission execution, not cosplay.
And Austin’s “air” side matters because the aerospace future is not only orbit; it’s also low-altitude mobility, logistics, autonomy, and distributed electric propulsion. LIFT Aircraft’s HEXA and the broader eVTOL movement sit right in that seam between aviation and “space-grade” systems engineering.
Even Uber’s activity is a signal of the platform economy colliding with aviation (you did know Uber is working on drone transportation here, yes?). Uber’s partnership with Flytrex is explicit about integrating drone delivery into Uber Eats pilot markets.
Meanwhile, West Texas is and will always be a place where you can test loud things while they pump oil. Blue Origin’s test facility near Van Horn has been part of its engine testing narrative for years, including public statements about operations at that site.
Of course, South Texas is the manufacturing-and-launch end of the spectrum with SpaceX’s Starship testing and launch posture.
The point is not that any one company makes Texas space, it’s that Texas has the full ladder (space elevator would have been a cooler metaphor but it doesn’t work as well as ladder): workforce ? manufacturing ? test ? launch ? mission operations ? commercialization pathways ? defense adjacency ? capital.
Most regions have one or two of those. Texas has most of them, and increasingly all of them.
The Institutional Layer: state policy, funding, and “grown-up” coordination
Texas is not NASA heritage, it built the policy direction and funding instruments.
The Texas Space Commission and its Space Exploration & Aeronautics Research Fund (SEARF) are the result of the Texas Legislature establishing the fund in 2023 and appropriating $150 million for grants across multiple priority areas. The Commission also publishes award information and specific grant releases (including awards to aerospace companies), which is how you know the state isn’t just a press conference machine in this sector.
The Commission frames SEARF as providing grants to entities “involved in space exploration, research or aeronautics” (Shoot… aeronautics… Okay, so this is The Texas Aerospace Aeronautics Space). Aerospace clusters don’t grow sustainably on one-time competitions, logo-stuffed summits, or “innovation districts” that are really just rezoned real estate. Aerospace grows when there is stable, multi-year infrastructure and workforce investment, aligned with the actual needs of manufacturers and mission operators.
SWIFT is the workforce pipeline player, building partnerships across Texas educational institutions to train space talent.
The Space Force Association’s Texas Chapter is part of the national-security connective tissue, explicitly focused on connecting military, industry, and academia across Texas.
And Houston Spaceport is itself an institution: it’s a city-operated, federally licensed facility designed as a hub for commercial aerospace and aviation R&D and fabrication.
Those three alone form a triangle that most places would kill for: workforce + definitive association + physical spaceport infrastructure. Add NASA JSC and you’ve got a fourth vertex: human spaceflight expertise.
If Texas screws this up, it won’t be because it lacked assets, it will be because it failed to operate the machine with excellence.
Talent Pipeline: the part everyone pretends just spits out from STEM
Texas has major research universities with deep aerospace and space engagement, but the more important trend is that institutions are being pulled into a more operational, workforce-and-commercialization posture.
UT Austin’s Center for Space Research, for example, has been directly tied into SEARF-related funding pathways (including education and outreach efforts). Rice University’s Space Institute is building partnerships and even accelerator-style programming tied to Houston and the Houston Spaceport, explicitly connecting global aerospace partnerships and commercialization pathways.
University space programs often die in the gap between research and industry adoption but here the move ties university efforts into statewide grants and into physical hubs, avoiding the classic problem: brilliant labs producing papers while industry imports talent from somewhere else.
Venture Capital and Startup Development in Texas space
Space startups are not like SaaS startups, and pretending they are is how you get ecosystems full of pitch nights and zero flight hardware.
Capital in space behaves differently because timelines are longer, capex is real, the customer set is concentrated (government + primes + a few large commercial buyers), and technical risk is non-trivial. That means the space funding stack in Texas tends to look like a mix of specialist funds, defense-adjacent investors, and a growing set of generalist firms that have decided aerospace is now venture-backable again.
SpaceFund (Houston) is one of the clearest Texas-based specialist examples, explicitly positioning itself as an early-stage venture fund dedicated to space startups.
On the startup development side, the most meaningful Texas space accelerators are the ones that connect founders to facilities, manufacturing partners, and procurement pathways; not just mentors who give advice from a podcast microphone. Rice Space Institute’s programming and Houston Spaceport’s positioning are signals of that kind of infrastructure-first approach. Let me frank for a moment though, this is where Texas has a gap to close; which is really a tremendous opportunity we should fix.
As for major events relevant to the space economy, the biggest ones Texas founders and ecosystem builders should obsess over are the events that reliably attract government buyers, primes, and technical partners. Most of those are national (SpaceCom is in Orlando), but Texas also has its own spaceport and industry programming such as the Texas Space Summit in San Antonio or Texas Space Commission events, and increasingly a statewide grant-and-workforce narrative that attracts convenings.
Texas has specialist capital (like SpaceFund), state capital (SEARF grants), federal mission pathways (NASA CLPS and others), and multiple physical hubs (Houston Spaceport, Starbase region, West Texas testing). Those four together are why space founders scale here.
For Now, It’s The Aerospace Employers That Make the Startup Layer Possible
Startups don’t float above reality, they feed on supply chains, labor pools, and anchor customers such as Boeing, which has a substantial footprint in San Antonio through Port San Antonio’s aerospace cluster and maintenance/modification operations.
That’s why North Texas’ defense manufacturing footprint matters. This is why the West Texas engine-test story matters.
And that’s why the advanced air layer matters too: LIFT Aircraft and Uber’s drone-delivery integration are not spaceflight, but they are part of the same aerospace future: autonomy, flight safety, certification, operations, and new mobility business models.
Texas is one of the few places where a founder can plausibly build across those layers without leaving the state.
What Texas is Really Building
Texas is building an aerospace economy that looks less like a single cluster and more like an integrated production system. Think of it as a portfolio:
- Houston is mission operations, human spaceflight, training, and an expanding commercial space HQ base.
- Austin is the hardware-plus-software startup engine, with lunar missions (Firefly) and advanced air mobility experimentation (LIFT).
- DFW is manufacturing scale, defense aerospace supply chain density, and a pipeline of industrial talent that space companies actually need.
- South Texas is manufacturing + launch iteration at a pace that changes what “cycle time” means in rocketry.
- West Texas is test space for engines, vehicles, and high-risk experimentation where geography is an asset.
Then the state overlays funding and coordination through the Texas Space Commission and SEARF.
Texas assembled the full production system. So, is it working as best as it possibly can.
Capacity Building in the Texas Aerospace Space
I’ve written frequently in my ecosystem development work that capacity building is not a calendar of events; it’s the deliberate construction of conditions that make venture outcomes repeatable (see my broader framing on ecosystem capacity building and why most regions mistake activity for progress). With that lens, here’s how Texas stacks up in aerospace and space, where it’s strong, and where it might stop congratulating itself to get sharper.
1) Overcoming silos through shared infrastructure and community. Texas does well when the “shared infrastructure” is physical: Houston Spaceport exists; Starbase exists; university labs exist; defense manufacturing exists. Where Texas still struggles is the social layer: founders in Austin, mission operators in Houston, defense suppliers in DFW, and test operators in West Texas can still operate like separate countries. The fix is not another summit. The fix is shared programs with shared KPIs: supplier matchmaking tied to actual procurement, workforce credentials recognized statewide, and a consistent cross-city calendar of technical demo days that are operational, not performative.
2) The missing middle: widening the gap between early startup and established company. Texas is good at early-stage formation (Austin’s startup machine) and it’s obviously good at large industrial anchors (DFW defense aerospace, Houston energy-grade engineering). The missing middle is the scale-up layer for hard tech: the expensive transition from prototype to certified production, from one mission to repeatable missions, from clever engineering to manufacturable reliability. SEARF helps here because it’s explicitly funding aerospace and space projects, not just ideation theater. But Texas needs more “industrial scale-up operators” who can sit inside startups and drag them through qualification, certification, and supply chain hell without romanticizing it.
3) Secure long-term funding and incentives for the actors building ecosystems. Texas is finally doing what most states refuse to do: putting real money behind the sector through an explicit commission and fund. The vulnerability is continuity. Aerospace timelines don’t care about election cycles. Texas should lock multi-year operating support not only for companies, but for the unsexy actors: workforce intermediaries like SWIFT, facility operators, and the program teams who recruit founders and mentors. If that funding becomes episodic, the pipeline breaks.
4) Measuring outcomes, not activity, and promoting success so progress is visible and repeatable. Texas has plenty of headline moments (lunar landings, rocket tests), but ecosystems improve when you measure the boring stuff: supplier contracts won, cycle-time reductions, certification milestones, job placement rates into aerospace roles, follow-on capital attracted, and repeat founders staying in-state. NASA’s CLPS outcomes are measurable; so are Firefly’s lunar mission deliverables. Texas should publish a quarterly, statewide aerospace-space scorecard that ties SEARF awards to downstream milestones, not just press releases.
5) The culture and behaviors that make collaboration natural, not forced. Texas has a builder culture, and the space sector rewards builders. But collaboration in aerospace is not “networking.” It’s trust, quality standards, and reliable execution. The Space Force Association’s Texas chapter exists specifically to connect military, industry, and academia (good!). The improvement Texas needs is to operationalize that into procurement pathways for startups and into mentor networks where mentors are selected for relevance and execution history, not for LinkedIn follower counts.
6) Including the full spectrum of talent, not just the visible and well-connected. This is where SWIFT is pointing directly at the right problem: space jobs include welders, machinists, and technicians, and many roles do not require advanced degrees. Texas is strong here because community colleges and workforce programs can scale quickly if the incentives are aligned. The gap is prestige bias: too many “space initiatives” talk like every kid needs to be an astronaut. No, the state needs thousands of “space cowboys” who can build hardware reliably.
7) Architecting environments that enable peak performance. The physical environment matters more in aerospace than in software. Texas is doing the right thing by investing in facilities (spaceport infrastructure, test sites, rocket labs). The improvement is to design program environments with operational excellence: clean governance, clear safety culture, predictable access to equipment, and program managers who know how to run cohorts like mission operations—tight feedback loops, clear deliverables, no nonsense.
8) Aligning government, academia, and the private sector around shared outcomes. Texas is closer than most states because it has a formal commission and fund, and because universities are participating in funded workforce and education initiatives. The gap is alignment around what counts as success. If academia wants publications, government wants job counts, and industry wants qualified technicians next quarter, you get confusion. The fix is explicit shared outcomes: placements, certifications, supplier readiness, and mission milestones.
9) Ecosystems accelerating innovation and reducing risk by unlocking local competitiveness. Texas is already doing this through density: you can prototype in Austin, test in West Texas, integrate through Houston Spaceport, and sell into defense-adjacent networks in DFW. The improvement is to formalize “fast paths” for startups: pre-negotiated test access, shared compliance resources, and procurement coaching that actually understands federal contracting and aerospace certification.
10) Adapting global best practices, not copying them, for local realities—especially excellence in program operation, mentor recruiting, and promotion of success stories. Texas does not need to cosplay Silicon Valley. Aerospace founders don’t need more demo days; they need operator mentors, manufacturing partners, and customer-introduction pathways that end in contracts. SpaceCom-style programming is useful as a marketplace, but Texas should be running its own operator-grade convenings tied to in-state assets. The biggest improvement Texas can make here is ruthless program quality: fewer programs, better run; fewer generic mentor rosters, more domain-expert mentors; fewer “startup weekends,” more mission-readiness sprints.
If you want a practical reference point for how I think about this beyond aerospace, my broader playbook on capacity building is here, and it maps directly onto what aerospace ecosystems need: stable funding for ecosystem actors, operational excellence, and outcome measurement that isn’t a participation trophy.
Texas is Ahead, and Not Finished
Texas has the ingredients that most regions spend decades trying to buy: mission heritage (NASA JSC), commercial lunar execution (Firefly and Intuitive Machines), launch-scale iteration (SpaceX), test geography (West Texas), industrial manufacturing density (DFW), and now state-level funding structure (Texas Space Commission + SEARF).
The remaining work is less glamorous, which is exactly why it’s decisive: running programs with excellence, building a statewide workforce pipeline that respects skilled trades as much as engineering, and tightening the connective tissue between metros so suppliers, talent, and founders aren’t trapped in city silos.
Texas doesn’t need another slogan. It needs to keep building the machine and make it easier for the next wave of founders and technicians to plug into it without already knowing the right people.
If you’re building in Texas aerospace or space, are you spending more time chasing attention, or more time shortening cycle time? Want to argue about all of this (politely, or not)? Share where you think Texas is strongest (Houston, Austin/Cedar Park, DFW, South Texas, or West Texas) and where you think the biggest execution gap actually is. Heck, take me on from your part of the world and share with me how and what you’re doing there in the clouds and vacuum beyond the atmosphere is better suited to innovation.
Before you go, this March, SXSW attendees are invited learn more.
In Austin this March 14 -15 and presented by CesiumAstro, Space House will be an immersive sanctuary for visionaries, pioneers and storytellers. Located in the heart of downtown Austin, Space House is open to festival badge holders and will take place from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. each day. – REGISTER HERE
I’m also officially involved with SXSW as a mentor so if you want to come talk formally (or informally), message me here and we’ll make it happen.
