Bob Maheu (on the left, looking down), and his wife, Yvette, dine at Caesars Palace in this 1969 photo.
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NOW:
One day a couple of years ago, my phone rang and the voice on the other end said it was Bob Maheu.
Because I watch "60 Minutes," I knew right away it was Howard Hughes' former right-hand man. Or at least somebody who could have performed that role in "Legends in Concert."
Anyway, I had written something in my column that day about how when I was a kid, my heroes were ballplayers and astronauts. It was the astronauts part that prompted Maheu's call.
We chatted for what must have been 20 minutes. I don't recall all the details about our conversation, but the gist of it was that Mr. Hughes' heroes also had been astronauts, so when they would splash down safely, he'd throw a big party for them in Las Vegas.
Anyway, it was one of those "only in Las Vegas" stories that I like to tell people when they ask why I live here.
Before I could ease Maheu into a conversation about the plot to assassinate Castro or any other FBI and CIA counter-intelligence secrets he might be willing to share from his spy days, he gave me his phone number.
I had every intention about coming up with a good question about Gordon Cooper or Wally Schirra that only he could answer. But, of course, I never got around to it.
When I heard today that Maheu had died, I went straight to Microsoft Entourage in my computer to see if I still had his number. There it was, right between Wendy MacPherson, the ladies' pro bowler, and Joe Maloof, one of the owners of the NBA's Sacramento Kings.
I think I'm going to leave it there, out of respect to him. And just to see if Langley calls.
THEN:
Another childhood memory -- not such a favorite one -- about astronauts. To go with my G.I. Joe John Glenn astronaut, my mom spent a lot of money on this cool gray plastic replica of Friendship 7, his space capsule. It was one of the best birthday presents I ever received.
Then one day, to simulate a splashdown, I took G.I. John and Friendship 7 into the bathroom and filled up the tub. Bad idea. It wasn't exactly a successful mission as the bath water ruined the paper instrumental panel.
As far as disasters go, it wasn't exactly like stirring the oxygen tanks on Apollo 13. But I remember crying. And I don't think the flight director -- my mom -- was too pleased, either.
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