“Six months ago you were all for the military,” his critics pointed out.
[332] “Six months ago I didn’t know what I know now,” he said.
“Six months ago Ike hadn’t twisted your arm.”
“I suppose God gave us arms so they could be twisted,” Grant said.
Often at the end of the day he would be so exhausted that he wished only to wash his face in cold water, grab a quick sandwich somewhere, and plop into bed, but Penny, who worked even longer hours, would catch him heading for some fast-food outlet and argue: “Senator, you’ll destroy your digestion if you eat that junk. You must get yourself a decent meal-with vegetables and a salad.”
At such times he would suggest that she eat with him, and they were often seen in the unpretentious restaurants near the Capitol where senators, congressmen and staff from the Library of Congress ducked in for hurried meals. One evening, during an unusually leisurely meal, Penny noticed that Grant’s face seemed suddenly more lined, as if the burdens of office were weighing too heavily on him. “Senator, if you keep frowning like that, you’re going to be an old man ... next year.”
“I’m worried about Russia,” he said.
“Senator Glancey’s worried about Russia, too. But look at his face. Open, bland, not a wrinkle in the world.”
“All he worries about, really, is Red River.”
“He knows how to relax. You should learn.” When no comment was made, she asked, “More trouble at home?”
“That damned Strabismus. Mrs. Grant insists upon sending him all kinds of money.”
“Why don’t you stop it?”
“I have. My money, that is. But now she’s sending him her inheritance.”
“Isn’t there a law about fraud?”
“He commits no fraud. We’re powerless.”
“What’s going to happen?”
He pushed back his plate, tried several times to formulate a reply, then asked, “How do you and John work things out? I mean, with him not at Patuxent River any more?”
“Navy wives have always devised ways. Our men are gone, then they come back.”
“I think a good deal about marriage and home these [333] days, Penny. Is the way you live any kind of solution? I mean, the two careers? The long separations?”
Penny was now thirty-one, as compelling in appearance as when she first worked for him, and she could visualize the long decades that lay ahead. Speaking very slowly, she said, “John’s career would always come first, I’m sure. But it’s a broken one. Here, there. Asia, Mediterranean. I’ll adjust to it. But my career with you and Senator Glancey, that’s important too, and I feel sure that John will adjust to it.”
“It seems to me you’re trying a very difficult game.”
“For sure. And aren’t you doing the same?” When Grant evaded the question, she added, “You in Washington. Mrs. Grant in Clay. Are John and I any more separated than you?”
He picked at his food, then indicated to the waitress that she should take the plate away. “It’s not the same. Not at all. You two are working at major jobs ... making major contributions. Elinor and I are working at only one job, and she’s actually trying to tear down the sensible work of this nation.” He was not proud to be talking like this to an attractive young woman who was the executive secretary of his committee, and he knew the poor impression he must be making, but in recent weeks he had grown quite desperate-he overworking in Washington, his wife frittering away her life back home-and he needed help.
“Penny, would you consider flying out to Clay and talking sense to my wife?”
Without even a pause, Mrs. Pope laughed. “Senator, how foolish can you be? Surely you know that Mrs. Grant despises me. Charges me with having an affair with you. Or trying to.”
Grant clasped his hands over his belt and studied the restaurant table: “That’s one of her saner ideas. And not to be taken seriously.”
“I have to take it very seriously.”
Impulsively Grant asked, “Penny, how did you grow up to be so sensible? So strong?”
“I had a good, tough father and I married a good, tough man.” As soon as she said this she realized that her words were a condemnation of the senator, and she started to apologize, but he forestalled her: “Elinor had a fine father, [334] one of the best. As for me, I’m damned if I can see what I ought to have done differently. Except maybe stay at home and run a small office on Main Street.”
“I’ve thought about this a good deal, Senator. So have all the girls in your office.”
“And what have you gossips concluded?”
“That sometimes nothing can be done.” She shrugged her shoulders, then added, “Except throw this Dr. Strabismus in jail.”
“Did you know that Marcia’s out in California with him again? They’re building a big new center, and she’s a consultant. Nineteen years old and she’s an architectural consultant.”
“Now you have reason to go out and shoot him.”
“When I asked if you would go to Clay to talk with my wife ... of course I didn’t mean it. But would you fly out to Los Angeles and see if you could ... well, I mean ... save my daughter?”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Mrs. Pope said, and although the battle for the space bill was nearing its apex, she arranged for others to do her work, taxied to the National Airport and flew to Los Angeles.
The address she had in her notebook led to the two shabby rooms from which Universal Space Associates held forth, but Dr. Strabismus was not there. Mr. Ramirez, supposing her to be one more silly woman in love with his employer, handed her a slip of paper directing her to a suburban hillside, where she found an imposing white building near completion:
University of Space and Aviation
Dr. Leopold Strabismus
Ph.D., LL.D., D.H.L. Chancellor
From the dusty roadway Penny watched as trucks rumbled in for the building she was sure would be called Old Main, and she was amused to discover that Strabismus, fraud though he was, longed for legitimacy. He was making a financial killing from his two shabby rooms but he wanted the respectability that would come from what others would accept as an honest university. She smiled, and her feelings toward him softened a little. Placing her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Marcia Grant? Are you there?”
[335] Instead of the senators daughter, a tall, bearded, heavyset man appeared from one of the unfinished doorways, and as soon as he saw Penny, in her trim business suit with its white collar, he assumed that she was someone from Oklahoma or South Dakota who had been sending him money, and he stepped forward with a gracious smile and a big extended hand.
“Come right along, ma’am. This is where the university will be.”
“Dr. Strabismus?”
“Yes, indeed. And this will also serve as headquarters for our space research.”
“It’s quite grand, really.”
“And where are you from?” he asked solicitously.
“I’m here to speak with Marcia Grant, and if you’ll call her ...”
“Miss Grant is not here, unfortunately.”
He looked at Penny, suspicious now, and his manner changed abruptly.
“I think she is,” Penny said coldly, “and I’ll go find her.”
“This is a hard-hat area,” Strabismus warned, stepping quickly forward.
“You’re not wearing one.” She brushed past him and called, “Marcia! Marcia Grant!”
From a second door the slim, leggy young girl stepped forth in a kind of slouch, her beautiful face marked with a disapproving scowl. “What’s happening out here?”
“Marcia,” Strabismus shouted. “Go back!” But before the girl could obey, she recognized the visitor and cried, “She works with my father!”
With a powerful grip Strabismus caught Penny’s arm from behind and whipped her about. “What are you, a spy?”
“I’m an employee of the United States Senate,” Penny said quietly, “and if you don’t take your hands off me, I shall summon
a federal marshal.” With her right hand she brushed him away, then proceeded through the dust to where Marcia waited, and when she reached the extremely attractive young woman she greeted her warmly. “I think we must talk.”
“Don’t go with her,” Strabismus cried, trying to intercept Marcia, and when the two women ignored him, he said menacingly, “Don’t touch my car!”
“We’ll go over there,” Penny suggested, pointing to a [336] roadside diner frequented by workingmen, and when they were seated at the oilclothed table she said forthrightly; “Marcia, quit this nonsense and come home with me.”
“Did Father send you?”
“He did.”
“Does Mother know?”
“I doubt it. There’s not much communication, you know.”
“You’re sleeping with Father, aren’t you?”
Penny was shocked by what she did next. With a wide sweep of her right arm she brought her hand forcefully across Marcia’s face. “You’re talking with me now, not some damned fraud.”
The suddenness of the attack so astounded Marcia that she could not determine how to react, but Penny’s fierce integrity demanded a response: “I’m sorry.”
Penny was even sorrier. She took the girl’s two hands in hers and said, “I’m the one who’s sorry, but I work in a tough world where any challenge to honor must be met ... right then.”
“I didn’t mean to insult your honor.”
“It was your father’s that was offended.”
“May I ask a reasonable question without getting my head knocked off?”
“Shoot.”
“Are you in love with Father?”
Penny chuckled, then looked with real warmth at the confused girl. “I think all women who work for good men like your father grow to love them ... in a detached sort of way. But have you ever seen my husband?” She took from her small handbag a cellophane folder in which she carried three photographs of Lieutenant Commander Pope, one in tennis shorts, one in dress uniform, one as test pilot seated in a jet. “I really don’t need to romance older men.”
“He’s neat,” Marcia said. “Where is he?”
“He’s not running a racket ... not living off the contributions of addled women.”
“Be careful. Strabismus may wind up a much more powerful force than Father, or your husband.”
“What’s this university bit?”
“California lets you get away with anything. It has good laws on the books but never enough manpower to enforce them. They’ve made us a registered university. We’re going to start classes any day. Well, to be truthful, there aren’t [337] going to be any classes. All we do is sell degrees.”
“Aren’t you ashamed of letting Strabismus get away with this?”
“What do you mean, Strabismus. I’m in it, too. I’m Dean of Faculty.”
“My God! You didn’t even finish freshman year!”
“In California, anything goes.”
“Marcia, last year Strabismus kicked you out for some Oklahoma teenager. Next year he’ll kick you out again. You’ve seen what your behavior’s done to your mother.”
“Mother is a horse’s ass, and you know it.”
Again the arm came up instinctively, but this time Marcia intercepted the slap. “We’ve had enough of this charade, Mrs. Pope,” she said, and rose from the table, stalked back across the road and informed Dr. Strabismus in a loud voice: “She struck me-twice.”
“We’ll sue her for assault, that slut.”
Penny, just behind Marcia, heard him, and now in a rage, she shouted, “You say that to me, Strabismus, and I’ll get someone to slap you around.”
“You can be sued!” he cried. Calling out to workmen, he said, “You heard her. She threatened me.”
When Strabismus and the workmen pushed her bodily off the grounds Penny went to her car, slumped behind the wheel, and was thoroughly ashamed of herself, for as a lawyer she knew that in verbally threatening Strabismus, she had committed an assault, and in actually slapping Marcia, a battery-for either of which she could be thrown into jail. But she was now fighting mad and refused to leave California without seeing whether she could in any way deflate this impossible man. When she presented her credentials at police headquarters she was turned over to a Chinese detective, who listened patiently, then said, “We’ve studied his case eight or ten times. Complaints from all over the country. Impossible to prove fraud.”
“But the little green men?”
“Half the country sees little green men. My mother does.”
At the local FBI she asked, “The young girls? Aren’t they below age? Isn’t that statutory rape?”
“He’s very careful on that score. Young girls he sends ,back home. For example, how old’s your case?”
“Nineteen.”
“Legally an adult. She can sleep with anyone she wants.”
[338] “How about the Mann Act?”
“Now there you might have something. If Strabismus sends these young women air fare, or buys them a car in their home state ...”
“Will you check it? I suspect he did send her the money.”
“Not in our jurisdiction, but we could alert the Vice Squad of the local police.” But when the detectives went to the modest house in which Strabismus and the Grant girl were sharing quarters, they found that Marcia had receipts which proved that she and not Strabismus had paid for her transportation to California. “Definitely not chargeable under the Mann Act,” the police said.
There was no legal way by which Penny could attack Strabismus, for although he had mulcted citizens of more than a million dollars, he could not be punished because his advertisements had told contributors exactly what they would be getting, and he delivered. The fact that he was peddling arrant nonsense was not actionable, because in comparison to other ideas circulating in California his little green men were downright normal. Nor could anything be done to force Marcia to leave the bed of this outrageous man-she had climbed in willingly, and if she left, six or seven other young women would be most pleased to take her place. Mrs. Pope accomplished nothing.
On her last day in California she made a final appeal to Marcia, but the beautiful girl who should have been studying Biology 103 in some real university would not listen. “Leopold and I may be on to something very big with this university idea. No one can tell where it’ll wind up, but I’m staying with it. The young girls, they come and go. As for Mother, I doubt I’ll have any further contact with her. She’s quite batty, you know. But you can promise Father that I’ll do nothing to embarrass him in public. He’s nowhere, but he’ll be all right if he can ever get another war started.”
During the flight home Penny sat brooding, endeavoring to unravel the mystery of why these women behaved as they did: Elinor Grant occupies one of the enviable positions in this nation, and she’s blown it. Her daughter is bright enough to have any job she wants and pretty enough to have any man, and look what she does! And how about me? She thought about herself, her skills, her ambitions, her solid love for her husband, her lack of [339] children: I haven’t cooked a decent meal in three months.
From her purse she took out the photographs of her husband, and for a moment she wished that he would quit the Navy and settle down in some good town like Clay, at which point she would surrender her job with the Senate and care for him and any children they might adopt, but when the plane landed at St. Louis she bought a paper and found that the space bill was encountering opposition from both the military and the scientific community, so in a rush she called Senator Glancey’s office, and was told, “Get back here. Everything’s in the balance.”
She worked the last two weeks of July in a frenzy, helping her senators fend off last-minute amendments that might cripple the national effort, and often at night when the arm-twisting had to be done, she gained the impression that only one man in the United States appreciated the awesome possibilities of space, and that was Lyndon Johnson. Once she told Senator Glancey of her belief that Johnso
n was willing to use even the most nefarious means to gain his ends, and the Red River man laughed. “You got it backwards, Penny. He isn’t willing to use nefarious means. He prefers using them.”
On 29 July 1958 Grant and Glancey stood behind President Eisenhower when Public Law 85-568 was signed, giving the nation a mighty new agency whose job it would be to catch up with the Russians. Behind the two senators stood Penny Pope, hair drawn neatly back, blue suit belted around her slim waist, smiling as Senate Majority Leader Johnson whispered, “Honey, you wrote more of this damned bill than any of us.” NACA, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, with a budget of $117,000,000 and a staff of 8,000, had become NASA, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, with a budget soon to be nearly $6,000,000,000 and a staff of 34,000.
When the details of the new bill reached Huntsville, the gloom which already engulfed that base became actual panic, and the Germans, who had been living on the edge of a dark precipice, not knowing how they were to be disposed of, now saw that their Alabama work had no future at all, for as Kolff explained to his men: “The new agency is embracing all the strong branches of NACA. They’re taking Langley. Ames in California. Lewis in Cleveland.”
[340] “And us?”
“They don’t want us. We continue under Secretary Wilson’s directive: ‘Develop no vehicles that might be used in space.’ ”
“What can we do?”
“We can fire our rockets two hundred miles down range.”
“And if they go two hundred and ten?”
“We’ll be arrested.”
“How can we live with that?”
“I don’t know,” Dieter said. “Perhaps we’ll be dispersed. The old gang, all scattered.”
At home he was disconsolate, and so was his family. Liesl, still mourning her dead dream of creating a beautiful park, watched now as the land was being subdivided into ordinary building lots, its natural beauty ruined, its fine footpaths torn up by bulldozers. Monte Sano was still the most attractive place in Huntsville, so that the local residents often complained: “How did we let those damned Germans come in here and steal it right from under our noses?” But the noble place it might have become had Liesl’s plan been adopted was forever lost, and she grieved, not for her personal disappointment but because this seemed a thoughtless way to treat natural beauty.
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