Anyone involved in nuclear physics post-45 who wasn't at Los Alamos, Sandia, Oak Ridge, Brookhaven or Livermore didn't have any good stories to tell. The Manhattan Project was a top secret moonshot of mass destruction at the absolute heart of the Cold War. If anybody who was at the Manhattan Project had any sort of skillz they were entombed in an isolating coffin of money and Q clearances.
Carson Mark had grandkids that I got to hang out with whenever they were in town. They were part of my high school cadre 8th through 10th grade. And every Christmas Eve we'd go to their Christmas party, where I'd hang out with the grandkids in the basement and occasionally venture forth for some of the most evil (to my immature palette - I'll bet it was f'ing delicious to adults) eggnog amongst a bunch of really creepy, really well-dressed old dudes with funny accents.
Keep in mind - this was the late '70s, early '80s so I was young and they were old. But I remember Feynman. He reminded me of my uncle, who was also a cut-up. There were several interesting old British dudes who i wish I knew their names. Edward Teller had amazing eyebrows and Stephen Hawking was the first person I'd ever seen in a powered wheelchair.
It would have been far more enriching if I was in my 20s instead of my 0s when I met them all, but even now, I kinda gotta look back and go "well, that happened."