thrown in wherever we could fit them. Throughout 1969 and 1970,Neil, Mike, and I served as unofficial space ambassadors traveling the country on NASA’s behalf.
After a while, I felt that NASA was taking advantage of our willingness to be cooperative. Certainly we were still employed by the space agency, and we were honored to represent America’s astronauts, but we were not public-relations guys. All we really wanted to do was get back to work. Even before going to the moon, we understood that there would be a fascination on the part of the public when we returned, and we were willing to deal with that, up to an extent. We realized that we were now regarded as public property, and we did our best to maintain as much of a sense of pre–Apollo 11 normalcy in our lives as possible. But for nearly two years NASA paraded us out in front of one group after another, on display as it were, to do our routine promoting space exploration, and especially reminding anyone with any influence of how important congressional funding was to the program.
A FTER THE WORLD tour, on November 5, 1969, the three of us wrote a formal letter to President Nixon, kind of a final report. In describing the residual impact of our mission, we said, “The predominant impression is the warmth and friendliness shown us as representatives of the American space program. Although the world recognizes the Apollo 11 mission as an outstanding American achievement, people everywhere felt that they too had participated in the event…. We believe that the people we met are also persuaded that the application of science and technology combined with the will to do so can produce solutions to the problems of men everywhere.” Along with the letter, we presented the President with a huge photo album chronicling the highlights from all of the countries we visited.
At the conclusion of the tour, we had a special dinner with President Nixon in the White House. He was quite interested in every aspect of our trip, and seemed genuinely concerned about our future plans. He said to Mike Collins, “I know you have been talking with Secretary Rogers about a position with the State Department.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike nodded. “I’m looking forward to that.”
“And, Neil, what is it that you want to do?” the President asked.
“I’d like to stay with NASA for a while, and maybe work in the aeronautics department.” It seemed odd to me that Neil wanted to divorce himself early on from space activities, and devote himself to aviation, but that was his heart and soul, so I didn’t fault him for that. Neil was a true test pilot; he enjoyed flying airplanes, running them through a variety of maneuvers, whether they were space-related or not.
The President turned to me, and asked about my plans. At the time I didn’t really know, but I was thinking of returning to the Air Force, and I could see myself as a role model for young airmen at the Academy, so the position of commandant of the Air Force Academy seemed appealing to me. I didn’t feel comfortable in voicing that to President Nixon at the time, but I did put in a good word for my dad. I suggested to the President that my father would make an excellent ambassador to Sweden.
At the time, the United States was not on the best of terms with the notoriously neutral country. Olaf Palme was the prime minister, and was strongly opposed to our involvement in Vietnam. From the U.S. standpoint, our government was not pleased that Sweden had welcomed those regarded as draft dodgers and deserters. I knew there was an opening in our embassy in Sweden, because during our round-the-world trip, we had not visited Sweden. We visited England, of course, where Neil had his roots, and Italy, where Mike had been born in Genoa, but rather than going to the homeland of my heritage, we went to Norway instead. It was not an accidental change in our itinerary. It was a statement.
I slept in the Lincoln Bedroom in the White House that
After a while, I felt that NASA was taking advantage of our willingness to be cooperative. Certainly we were still employed by the space agency, and we were honored to represent America’s astronauts, but we were not public-relations guys. All we really wanted to do was get back to work. Even before going to the moon, we understood that there would be a fascination on the part of the public when we returned, and we were willing to deal with that, up to an extent. We realized that we were now regarded as public property, and we did our best to maintain as much of a sense of pre–Apollo 11 normalcy in our lives as possible. But for nearly two years NASA paraded us out in front of one group after another, on display as it were, to do our routine promoting space exploration, and especially reminding anyone with any influence of how important congressional funding was to the program.
A FTER THE WORLD tour, on November 5, 1969, the three of us wrote a formal letter to President Nixon, kind of a final report. In describing the residual impact of our mission, we said, “The predominant impression is the warmth and friendliness shown us as representatives of the American space program. Although the world recognizes the Apollo 11 mission as an outstanding American achievement, people everywhere felt that they too had participated in the event…. We believe that the people we met are also persuaded that the application of science and technology combined with the will to do so can produce solutions to the problems of men everywhere.” Along with the letter, we presented the President with a huge photo album chronicling the highlights from all of the countries we visited.
At the conclusion of the tour, we had a special dinner with President Nixon in the White House. He was quite interested in every aspect of our trip, and seemed genuinely concerned about our future plans. He said to Mike Collins, “I know you have been talking with Secretary Rogers about a position with the State Department.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike nodded. “I’m looking forward to that.”
“And, Neil, what is it that you want to do?” the President asked.
“I’d like to stay with NASA for a while, and maybe work in the aeronautics department.” It seemed odd to me that Neil wanted to divorce himself early on from space activities, and devote himself to aviation, but that was his heart and soul, so I didn’t fault him for that. Neil was a true test pilot; he enjoyed flying airplanes, running them through a variety of maneuvers, whether they were space-related or not.
The President turned to me, and asked about my plans. At the time I didn’t really know, but I was thinking of returning to the Air Force, and I could see myself as a role model for young airmen at the Academy, so the position of commandant of the Air Force Academy seemed appealing to me. I didn’t feel comfortable in voicing that to President Nixon at the time, but I did put in a good word for my dad. I suggested to the President that my father would make an excellent ambassador to Sweden.
At the time, the United States was not on the best of terms with the notoriously neutral country. Olaf Palme was the prime minister, and was strongly opposed to our involvement in Vietnam. From the U.S. standpoint, our government was not pleased that Sweden had welcomed those regarded as draft dodgers and deserters. I knew there was an opening in our embassy in Sweden, because during our round-the-world trip, we had not visited Sweden. We visited England, of course, where Neil had his roots, and Italy, where Mike had been born in Genoa, but rather than going to the homeland of my heritage, we went to Norway instead. It was not an accidental change in our itinerary. It was a statement.
I slept in the Lincoln Bedroom in the White House that
Similar Books
