he see?” Stetson paused for effect, not really to allow Jim to answer his somewhat rhetorical question.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What?” Jim didn’t really care to offer his own opinion, since he wasn’t sure what might tweak his friend too far at the moment.
“He saw another president getting all the credit. He saw John Fitzgerald Kennedy standing at the podium over at Rice University saying, ‘We choose to go the Moon in this decade and do the other thing.…’ He saw or heard JFK whenever or wherever the Apollo program came up. And that simply burned him. And do you know why it burned him?”
Jim decided to just keep his mouth shut. He leaned back in his chair and slumped a little to relax. Politics never seemed to help the space program, and bitching about it was almost as fruitful. He decided to just ride the storm out.
“Do you know who ran against John Kennedy in the presidential election of 1960? That election was the closest election in modern history—until the election of George Bush in 2000, that is. Do you know who he beat to become president?”
All England could do was shrug. He knew his American history fairly well, but keeping a mental log of who lost presidential elections was not among the facts that he’d memorized in order to pass the public-school history exams.
“Well, and the kicker, there was controversy about some ballet-box stuffing throwing some doubt on the election outcome even!” Stetson sat the lander back on his desk, thinking to himself, Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed. He smiled inwardly and then answered his own question. “Richard Milhous Nixon. Kennedy beat Mr. Nixon for the presidency, just barely, in 1960. Nixon even made a statement saying something about the country didn’t need the turmoil of an investigation into the election at that time.”
“I don’t recall ever hearing that in school,” Jim said with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s true. Look it up. So, what do you think Mr. Nixon thought about when he was president at one of the greatest moments in human history and the guy who beat him, perhaps questionably, almost a decade previously—a guy who had been dead for years—was getting all the credit? Do you think that made the man who kept an enemies list happy? No way! The SOB must’ve seethed at the thought, and I am convinced the old man had neither sympathy nor remorse for ending the Apollo program. He probably said good riddance.” Stetson walked a few steps to his window overlooking the complex of the Johnson Space Center. “And that’s why we’re just now going back to the Moon instead of Mars.”
“Ha, ha!” England guffawed. “Bill, that makes some crazy-conspiracy sense, but I cannot imagine that’s how it came down. The cost of the war, the civil-rights movement, and the Cold War—NASA just became too expensive, and people lost interest. It got boring.”
“Well…” Stetson, still looking out at the mid-day sun, seemed to have his sails deflated by his friend’s comment. Jim was just glad that it seemed to be calming him down.
“Come on, Bill,” Jim said. “The U.S. was slipping into a recession then, too. Science fiction movies made space look sexier than the astronauts could. It was a whole bunch of forcing functions in a very complex dynamic system that caused the Moon missions to stop. Apollo 13 was preempted on television during primetime, and that was long before Cernan and Schmitt’s flight. I don’t think it was Nixon at all.”
Stetson said, “Yeah. All those things are true. Once you’ve gone to the Moon, what else can there be? How do you top that? NASA was given a tough act to follow—its own.”
England said, “Think about it. James T. Kirk was going to other star systems and hooking up with hot green chicks. All those Apollo guys ever did was bring home some rocks. The public got more out of the price of a movie ticket or a television show than NASA was delivering with their publicly