that we could almost stand in for each other.
Nevertheless, the predominant feeling we had from people all around the world was one of warmth and friendliness, even in some of the countries that were not necessarily as pro–United States as we would have liked. The trip was inspiring and exhausting.
We returned to the United States in time to attend the launch of
Apollo 12
at Kennedy Space Center, a lunar landing mission carrying Alan Bean, Pete Conrad, and Dick Gordon on a journey quite similar to ours. NASA thought it wise to call us home in case there was something we could contribute should there be trouble during Apollo 12, but it was also a precaution against bad publicity. If something went wrong, they didn’t want us halfway around the world, being asked pointed questions we would have no immediate way of answering. We really didn’t mind returning home for a few days. It was wonderful to sleep in our own beds, to celebrate Thanksgiving at home, and of course to see our children, whom we hadn’t seen now for several weeks.
It was also a thrill to watch the majestic Saturn V rocket thunder off the pad, carrying our friends and colleagues toward the moon, knowing more than they about the adventure they were about to experience.
President Nixon attended the launch, as well. We had recommended to the President that he watch this launch outdoors to better appreciate the impact of the sound and shock waves coming from the launch pad, rather than view it from inside Launch Control Center, where onlookers experience a mere rattling of the windows. But as it turned out, the liftoff of
Apollo 12
occurred during a thunderstorm, so the President was better off inside. Within the first minute, the rocket was struck by lightning, requiring the crew to quickly reboottheir systems. Unimpaired, the flight continued safely from there, and the Apollo 12 mission could not have been a better follow-up as mankind’s second moon landing.
All too soon, though, Neil, Mike, and I were heading to Canada, on the next leg of our own journey. I have to admit, going to the moon felt a lot easier than going around the world on the goodwill tour.
The world tour stretched from August 13 to November 5, with a few short breaks. In September we came back from the international portion of Operation Giant Step for a two-day “vacation.” I walked into my office and was greeted by huge mounds of mail everywhere. I could barely find my desk! The letters and cards came from around the world, from well-wishers, students, space aficionados, and of course, a plethora of school, corporate, and civic groups offering speaking invitations. Secretaries in the NASA mail room opened the mail and, whenever possible, answered it, but most needed a direct response from me. This mail was sent on to me and stacked in my office awaiting my return. I started working on the stacks of mail, answering a few, before I realized this was a bottomless pit. As I answered one letter, the secretary brought in several hundred more. While I greatly appreciated the congratulatory wishes, and the sincere interest on the part of the public, I lamented that I couldn’t do a better job of answering the many requests. I pictured a young boy a future rocket scientist, writing a letter with well-thought-out questions about the Apollo 11 mission, and then sending off his letter, checking the mailbox each day, and awaiting a response that likely would never come. I sure didn’t want to let that young man down, yet when I looked at the stacks of mail, I knew I couldn’t possibly keep up, either.
The traveling and speechmaking slowed down a bit over the Christmas holiday, but then resumed in early January 1970. Now, however, Neil, Mike, and I were often split up, one of us speaking at an event in California while another went to Iowa, and another to Georgia. The three of us continued crisscrossing the country for months, with most of the events scheduled by NASA, and a few of our own
Nevertheless, the predominant feeling we had from people all around the world was one of warmth and friendliness, even in some of the countries that were not necessarily as pro–United States as we would have liked. The trip was inspiring and exhausting.
We returned to the United States in time to attend the launch of
Apollo 12
at Kennedy Space Center, a lunar landing mission carrying Alan Bean, Pete Conrad, and Dick Gordon on a journey quite similar to ours. NASA thought it wise to call us home in case there was something we could contribute should there be trouble during Apollo 12, but it was also a precaution against bad publicity. If something went wrong, they didn’t want us halfway around the world, being asked pointed questions we would have no immediate way of answering. We really didn’t mind returning home for a few days. It was wonderful to sleep in our own beds, to celebrate Thanksgiving at home, and of course to see our children, whom we hadn’t seen now for several weeks.
It was also a thrill to watch the majestic Saturn V rocket thunder off the pad, carrying our friends and colleagues toward the moon, knowing more than they about the adventure they were about to experience.
President Nixon attended the launch, as well. We had recommended to the President that he watch this launch outdoors to better appreciate the impact of the sound and shock waves coming from the launch pad, rather than view it from inside Launch Control Center, where onlookers experience a mere rattling of the windows. But as it turned out, the liftoff of
Apollo 12
occurred during a thunderstorm, so the President was better off inside. Within the first minute, the rocket was struck by lightning, requiring the crew to quickly reboottheir systems. Unimpaired, the flight continued safely from there, and the Apollo 12 mission could not have been a better follow-up as mankind’s second moon landing.
All too soon, though, Neil, Mike, and I were heading to Canada, on the next leg of our own journey. I have to admit, going to the moon felt a lot easier than going around the world on the goodwill tour.
The world tour stretched from August 13 to November 5, with a few short breaks. In September we came back from the international portion of Operation Giant Step for a two-day “vacation.” I walked into my office and was greeted by huge mounds of mail everywhere. I could barely find my desk! The letters and cards came from around the world, from well-wishers, students, space aficionados, and of course, a plethora of school, corporate, and civic groups offering speaking invitations. Secretaries in the NASA mail room opened the mail and, whenever possible, answered it, but most needed a direct response from me. This mail was sent on to me and stacked in my office awaiting my return. I started working on the stacks of mail, answering a few, before I realized this was a bottomless pit. As I answered one letter, the secretary brought in several hundred more. While I greatly appreciated the congratulatory wishes, and the sincere interest on the part of the public, I lamented that I couldn’t do a better job of answering the many requests. I pictured a young boy a future rocket scientist, writing a letter with well-thought-out questions about the Apollo 11 mission, and then sending off his letter, checking the mailbox each day, and awaiting a response that likely would never come. I sure didn’t want to let that young man down, yet when I looked at the stacks of mail, I knew I couldn’t possibly keep up, either.
The traveling and speechmaking slowed down a bit over the Christmas holiday, but then resumed in early January 1970. Now, however, Neil, Mike, and I were often split up, one of us speaking at an event in California while another went to Iowa, and another to Georgia. The three of us continued crisscrossing the country for months, with most of the events scheduled by NASA, and a few of our own
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