EDITOR 's NOTE: That brass cannon still stands in the living room. It served as the working title for The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress; of course, the title was changed as the editors did not think it was a suitable title for a science fiction novel.
The cannon is a saluting gun from an eighteenth-century sailing vessel, but it still works. We used to fire it every Fourth of July.
December 28, 1964: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
I behaved myself in Jamaica and all through the trip-first, because I was well chaperoned and, second, because I was never really tempted. The female passengers were all antiques and the chocolate items ashore were not tempting. No, I'm not racist about it-some of the /.ulu gals I saw in South Africa were decidedly tempting. Hut not these. As for Ginny's savoir faire, here's how it came about: [someone from our ship] had a date with a mulatto gal, not bad looking but not too bright and quite notional. He...took Ginny and this gal and myself on a pub prowl through the lower depths of Kingston. About midnight this gal suddenly decided that we should all go to -- and gave the address to a cabdriver-instead of a night club, it turned out to be a cathouse complete with red light, eight or ten colored gals in the parlor, and a bar and jukebox in a room behind the parlor, where the madam (somewhat annoyed but polite) received us. [The gal's date] was terribly embarrassed and explained behind his hand to me that he had not had the slightest idea where we were going. But Ginny was not embarrassed, spotted what the place was at once, and was delighted to have had a chance to see inside one. We bought a couple of rounds of drinks, played the jukebox, and left-much to the madam's relief. (I strongly suspect that [the woman] had worked in that house.)
CLASS REUNION AND RETURN
November 12, 1969: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
It was a wonderful trip for us, all the way through. I'm sorry that I arrived in New York so beaten down by my class reunion [in Annapolis] (some day we'll make a trip in which the first stop will be New York and arrive in prime condition) -- I'm especially sorry that I missed the ballet in which the gals (did) (did not) wear body stockings...Jack Waite took an afternoon off to give us a personal tour of the Manned Spaceflight Center [in Houston] -- high points: a view of Moon rock (swelp me, it looks to me like hundreds of little shiny golden spheroids 'embedded in a tannish gray matrix), a visit inside the mission control room during a computer-simulation of Apollo 12 mission (the LEM was just "landing" on the Moon and you could follow it on the displays), and a long, detailed lecture on the Moon suits (for us alone) by the chief engineer of life support systems-who turned out to be Ted Hayes, whom I [had] hired as an undergraduate at U of Pittsburgh twenty-seven years ago to work at the Naval Aircraft Factory-and I lured him into signing with me rather than General Electric by promising him that he could help develop pressure suits for fighter planes and I kept my promise and it led directly to him developing the first suit used on the Moon.
We stayed over an extra day in Houston at Patricia White's [the widow of Ed White, who died on Apollo I] request --"some people who wanted to meet us." Ginny told you a bit about that party by phone...It was a big party in a big house and I don't know what all Ginny did-but I was followed around all evening by three tall beautiful blondes-Heinlein fans. (I managed to put up with it.) But the star of the evening was "the Honorable Jane." Jane is a BOAC hostess and looks just the way an airline stewardess should look-petite and pretty and shapely.
[She] was wearing an evening dress-but it was London mod. Micro skirt-and she had nice legs but nobody noticed because it was cut clear to the waistline in front. No question of a body stocking in this case. Un-possible! Nor any possibility of foam rubber. Silicone? A bare possibility, but I don't think so. Everyone got cross-eyed, including me, and Jane clearly enjoyed the sensation she was creating. (I should add that styles in Houston are much more conservative than those in New York.)
From there we went to New Orleans, with reservations at the St. Charles-and I was asked for identification as we were checking in...which I refused to give (this is not yet Russia) and we had our bags put back into a cab and went to the Pontchartrain where we wound up in the Mary Martin suite without being asked to produce IDs. I can see why Mary Martin stays in that suite; the Aga Khan would be quite comfortable in it. It was late, we were exhausted, so we had a bite from room service (soft shell crabs Amandine, oysters and bacon en brochette, parfait praline), bathed, and so to bed.
The next morning there was a bowl of fruit waiting for us, compliments of the manager, and enclosed with it was a little carton of personalized matches with my name spelled correctly. This was followed by a phone call from the manager asking us to have a drink with him that afternoon. (Heinlein fan? Not at all. He asked me what sort of writing I did.) The moral of this is: Don't stay in hotels that demand IDs.
I must now explain that I had avoided the Pontchartrain because Eberhard Deutsch [a New Orleans attorney] lives there and I had been trying to avoid moving into his place when I knew he was out of town. Having told his office that we would be at the St. Charles, I then had to phone again and tell them that we were at the Pontchartrain. Eberhard was returning from Europe by a plane that got in at just past noon the next day-so shortly after noon I received a calclass="underline" "Young man, what are you doing downstairs? My housekeeper is expecting you."
So we moved up to the penthouse. He was not there but his housekeeper was indeed expecting us, and settled us in.
The penthouse makes the Mary Martin suite look like substandard housing --
-- which I had known and which was a major reason why I was reluctant to stay in it with the owner away. Eberhard's little cabin in the pines occupies the entire roof of the hotel; that portion which is not house proper being terraces, gardens, "landscaping," and a spectacular (pump-driven) waterfall. It is, of course, surrounded on all sides by dazzling views of the city and of the Mississippi-and best of all, it is so high up it is quiet; we could sleep.
New Orleans was tiring fun and endless gourmet food...Bourbon Street in search of real Dixieland jazz, which we found.
ANTARCTICA
Virginia Heinlein-report 1983
This is an enormous continent, barely known, but actually inhabited by mammals and birds, on the coastline at least. There could be almost anything there and we went to learn something about it.
We were outfitted with thermal underwear to outermost layers of waterproof clothing. Recommended (by those who know) is the "layer theory" of dressing for the cold weather to be expected. And it is COLD. The worst day we encountered, including the wind chill factor, was 45 degrees below Fahrenheit. Otherwise, we managed to keep relatively warm.
A few words about the Zodiacs, which will, often be mentioned. They are rubber boats with outboard engines, very shallow in draft, drawing only inches, made of rubber-coated fabric glued together, descendants of the life rafts of WW II. They have lightweight wooden floors; seating space for passengers was on the float tubes, which were about fourteen to sixteen inches in diameter. One held onto ropes festooned along the sides of these craft. We could be taken into beaches with no jetties, where it was possible to mingle with the local wildlife. "Wet" landings meant that we had to step into a shallow surf onto rocky beaches.