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[i]He was never about himself, as the following personal anecdote shows. After word came out in 2002 that I was writing Armstrong's biography, actor/director Clint Eastwood hosted Neil and his wife Carol and me and my wife Peggy for a night's stay at his private golf club, Tehama, up in the hills above Carmel Bay in California; Clint was interested in making a Warner Brothers movie based on the book. The next morning, Eastwood invited Neil and I to play a round of golf with him. As I headed to the golf carts, I saw Neil taking his bag of clubs off of Clint's cart and putting my bag in its place. "What are you doing, Neil?" I said. "I figure Clint will have a lot more to talk to you about with the movie than he does with me," was Neil's reply. "I am sure that is not what Clint has in mind," I explained. "You need to be riding with Clint." Truth was, Neil could have cared less if a movie was ever made about his life. He knew that I cared and that's the only reason he had agreed to visit Eastwood. Not surprisingly, the two men didn't hit it off too well: Neil didn't like the violence in Clint's movies, and Clint apparently appreciated space cowboys more than he did real engineer-astronauts. (Eastwood gave up the film rights to Universal Studios, who last year also gave them up. Telling Neil's life story is just too nuanced for Hollywood, apparently.)[/i]
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