Riding Rockets - Mike Mullane [72]
Our 41D crew was at the end of the training line for the JSC simulators, but there were still opportunities for payload training and we traveled to Seattle to learn the intricacies of the 25,000-pound Boeing-built Inertial Upper Stage (IUS) rocket booster that would be our primary cargo. After we deployed it fromDiscovery ’s cargo bay, it would lift a large communication satellite to geosynchronous orbit 22,300 miles above the equator. At the contractors’ factories, we also did some widows and orphans appearances, passing out “Maiden Voyage ofDiscovery ” safety posters to the workers. Judy had me laughing when she whispered, “There are nomaidens on this flight.”
Maiden or not, Judy was the center of attention wherever we traveled. At one contractor event a young engineer went, quite literally, mad for her. Throughout a daylong factory visit, he was constantly at her side trying to anticipate her needs. When she had none, he created some, bringing her water, soft drinks, and snacks. When we sat for briefings he would stand in a corner and stare at her like a Labrador waiting for the Frisbee to fly. On our factory tour he would rush ahead to hold a door until she walked past, then sprint ahead to the next. If there had been a puddle anywhere on our route, I was certain he would have flung himself face first into it, offering his back as a bridge. I expected the senior contractor official to tell his drooling puppy to get lost, but he turned a blind eye. I could tell Judy was seriously upset by the attention, but she was too much of a lady to say what needed to be said—“Fuck off!” We all breathed a sigh of relief when we were finally in our cars and on the way to the sanctuary of our T-38s. Those were parked at the gate-guarded military apron of Los Angeles International Airport. Then, to our astonishment, as we sat in our cockpits with the engines running, Judy’s want-to-be paramour appeared out of nowhere, rushed under her jet, and pulled the chocks!
Back in Houston, over an Outpost beer, we laughed off the incident as a one-time case of extreme infatuation. It wasn’t. It proved to be Jody Foster–John Hinckley creepy. Judy began to receive letters, poems (“your raven hair and eyes”), and gifts. JSC security was notified and they promised to call the wacko’s employer and have them discipline the man. I thought that was the end of it until one night I received a panicked call from Judy. “Tarzan, can you come over right away? I just got home and there was a package at my door from that engineer. It doesn’t have any postage on it.” The implication was obvious: It had been hand delivered. He was in town. The guy was a stalker and Judy his prey.
By the time I arrived, Judy had already called the JSC security people and they had sent a car to patrol around her house through the night. They had also promised to call the man’s employer…again. But, again, whatever warnings were delivered didn’t take. A few weeks later the man walked into our office! I could only assume he was there on official contractor business because he wore the proper JSC badges. He went immediately to Judy’s desk and asked her to autograph one of his poems. She refused. He begged her to write him one letter a year. She refused. He begged her to come to dinner with him. She refused. As this was going on, I