Dirt in Space

The word from Washington is unusually grim: our own astronauts have, alas, turned from the ways of the Stakhanovites to those of the revanchists. Maj. Slayton, next man in the firing line, has been barred from space--his heart palpitates. And then there's Linda Glenn, 16, nation's sweetheart. This kid managed to delay her high school's election for class president until the day after Daddy's flight. Guess who got the unanimous acclaim of the senior class?

And not only that. These astronauts, you may remember, have been raking it in from Life magazine (you know, "My Own Story: How It Feels to Shake a President's Hand But Seriously Though It's Really An Awful Great Thrill"). This money, it now appears, will construct Cape Canaveral's newest motel. Sole owners and coupon clippers: John Glenn, five more, and palpitating old Donald Slayton.

Apparently, only a handful of Virginian teenagers have yet realized the full significance of these shenannigans. When John Glenn told them to take off from a church social which they were disturbing last Saturday, they knew what to do. Sure enough. They slugged him good and hard.