Part 24 (1/2)

He told her that all three of the astronauts and their wives were ”fakes and fools for allowing ourselves to be convinced by some strange concept of duty to be sent through all of these countries for the sake of propaganda, nothing more, nothing less.” It was an interplanetary dog and pony show.

He called Joan a fake, too. They got drunker and drunker until they eventually fell asleep.

Two days later in London, the astronauts presented a genuine Moon rock to Queen Elizabeth. Rome was next. At the Vatican, the wives wore black lace mantillas for a private audience with the pope. The couples sat on thrones under a Renaissance ceiling painted with angels and clouds. After receiving his blessings, Buzz wanted to head immediately back to the hotel. That night was the big party at Gina Lollobrigida's.

Before they left, much to her chagrin, Joan got hit with a bad case of stomach flu. She spent her time in the bathroom while Buzz went to Gina's. Buzz didn't waltz in until dawn. He had spent the night as part of the international jet set. He may have felt he'd been in a scene right out of Fellini's La Dolce Vita. But it was clear that he was now in the doghouse.

16

Everywoman

Practically everyone Jane Conrad had ever known was at the Houston socialite's party at the Eau Gallie Yacht Club near Cape Kennedy on the eve of Pete's Apollo 12 Moon launch. It was an elegant evening, but Jane couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a dream. Familiar faces from all the way back to St. Mary's Hall, the boarding school she'd attended in San Antonio before Bryn Mawr, mixed with those she'd previously seen only in movies and on television: Jimmy Stewart and African American country singer Charley Pride, whose music Pete was taking with him to listen to on the way to the Moon. Pete's old s.p.a.ce twin, Gordo Cooper, was chatting up some French starlet, Yvette Mimieux, and the Astronaut Office's giant stuffed ape mascot wore a tux for photo ops. It all seemed surreal to Jane.

Jane's hair was cut into a short geometric Vidal Sa.s.soon bob, and she wore a candy-colored jersey minidress with kaleidoscopic swirls of deep purple, green, and bright sky blue that had been specially designed for her by Emilio Pucci. It had been a surprise personal gift from ”The Marquis,” with one stipulation. She had to wear it during the Apollo 12 launch festivities for good luck (and free advertising).

At one point Jane was called to the phone. She clacked across the dance floor in strappy black heels. ”Dearie,” as she called Pete, was quarantined over in the astronaut quarters at the Cape. ”I love you,” said Jane. Pete found it difficult even to say ”I love you” back. All he ever said when Jane told him how much she loved him was a swift ”Love you more.” Whispering her good-byes, without ever saying the actual word ”good-bye,” as per the Astrowife tradition, Jane handed the receiver to her four ash-blond boys. They took turns talking to their dad.

In the weeks prior to his flight, Pete had practically disappeared from Jane's life, floating farther and farther away from her as if he were already in s.p.a.ce. He'd done the same before Gemini 7, but then he'd snapped back upon his return to Earth. She wasn't quite as delicate with him this time around. One weekend when he was home, he sat in the living room on the sofa, upholstered in bird print, flipping through his latest issue of Aviation Week.

”When you come back next time,” interrupted Jane, ”why don't you take a room at the Kings Inn, so I won't be tempted to bother you? I bet you don't even know you are home, do you?”

She knew he was busy training, but the old Astrowife routine of getting up at five in the morning to cook him steak and eggs seemed so dated. Jane felt a change coming over her, too, as Pete was getting closer to going into s.p.a.ce. Her own ”personal countdown” was how she phrased it to friends.

After liftoff on November 19, 1969, Jane returned to Houston to ride out the ten-day mission. As one reporter noted, there were ”no tears, no handwringing, no high drama” for Apollo 12 wives Jane, Sue Bean, and Fourteen wife Barbara Gordon. Barbara was affectionately known in the neighborhood as ”the zookeeper” for wrangling her six rambunctious kids as well as a menagerie of pets, including a baby boa constrictor. If a neighbor was about to raise their shovel and murder a big ole poisonous viper, they'd better think twice because it might be ”one of the Gordons' children's pets.”

Apollo 11 had gotten all the festive rejoicing because it was the first Moon landing. Since Apollo 12 was a repeat, with the exception of landing on the so-called ”Snowman” crater in the Ocean of Storms rather than the Sea of Tranquility, everyone expected a calmer reception. What had been accomplished once could be accomplished again. The press dubbed playboy Pete, Alan ”Beano,” and d.i.c.k Gordon (known among the astronauts as ”the Animal”) ”the go-go crew,” because unlike taciturn Neil, Buzz, and Mike, this crew was intent on having a ball. The three had gotten matching gold Corvettes from Jim Rathmann, and drove them around the Cape wearing gold aviators and their powder-blue NASA flight suits.

For the duration of Apollo 12, Togethersville turned into a giant community slumber party. At Sue Bean's home, guests were wrapped in blankets on the floor in front of the TV, munching on cookies and swilling c.o.kes at all hours. Sue's daughter Amy and Barbara Cernan's daughter Teresa Dawn (”Tracy,” or ”Punk,” to her dad) sat with their mothers, two generations of best friends. Gene had come over with Barbara, but the lone man was soon sent home to sleep solo for a few nights.

After landing on the Moon, Pete cried out ”Whoopee! Man, that may have been a small one for Neil, but it's a long one for me.” He and Beano went through their checklist flipbooks attached to the wrists of their white s.p.a.ce suits. Their backups had included a surprise in their books: Playboy centerfolds. Miss September spread across Pete's lunar checklist with the caption ”Seen any interesting hills & valleys?” The line above Miss December's voluptuous body was ”Don't forget-describe the protuberances.”

Setting their special Westinghouse Lunar Color Television Camera on its tripod (another technological improvement made since the primitive black-and-white camera used on Apollo 11 only months ago), Beano accidentally pointed it directly into the sun, burning out the lens. The TV networks were beside themselves-they had counted on covering the entire moonwalk-until someone had the bright idea of building a mock-up of the Moon in the studio. Actor stand-ins walked around in moon suits, synched to the live transmission of the real astronauts' voices.

”Dum de dum-dum-dum,” hummed Pete.

Jane hummed along with her Moon man. Her superst.i.tious live-in maid refused to believe that Pete was on the Moon. ”Oh no, Mrs. Conrad, you pullin' my leg.”

It was the wee hours of the morning when Jane's Moon landing party finally petered out. Wandering out to the backyard and staring up at the sky, she remembered how she used to look for the Man in the Moon when she was a girl.

”Now there is a man on the Moon, and it's my husband!” thought Jane. It was amazing. There was a numinous reality in it that far transcended life in Togethersville, and for a moment, she felt part of it. She wondered if this was what it was like to be on LSD.

For their press conference, Jane Conrad, Sue Bean, and Barbara Gordon wore matching white knit pantsuits and tied patriotic Ed White Memorial Fund silk scarves, autographed by all of the astronauts, around their waists as belts. They emerged from Jane's house wearing their best Astrowife smiles, perfected now over many years, and raised high above their heads cardboard signs they'd decorated with their kids' red and blue magic markers. Jane held up HAPPY, Sue held up PROUD, and the third wife, Barbara Gordon, was THRILLED.

The Moon mission was on a roll. Jim Lovell was set to land on the Moon next on Apollo 13. This time, Marilyn got her trip in beforehand. They went to Florence, Siena, and Pisa.

On April 11, 1970, as Jim lifted off on Apollo 13, Marilyn stood in the VIP bleachers at Cape Kennedy, overlooking the eager crowd. She watched until the Saturn rocket carrying Jim, Jack Swigert-”a swinging bachelor with a girl in every airport,” Life reported-and Fred Haise rose out of sight. Down on Earth, Fred's wife, Mary, was seven months pregnant.