AT
M.I.T. IN CAMBRIDGE
After a satisfactory childhood and youth, in the fall of 1937 I
was sent to M.I.T., to study aeronautical engineering. It was M.I.T.
because my secondary school advisors felt that the heavy homework would
keep me out of the pool halls, (to borrow a phrase). Aero engineering,
because I had enjoyed working with model airplanes as a hobby, and
because the profession sounded romantic.
After a first year of basics, one of the aeronautics professors tried
to talk me out of the idea of trying to work in the field. Aero
engineering, he said, was a nomadic life, moving from contract to
contract, unless one went into teaching, or government service and he
wouldn’t recommend that to anybody. But I was stubborn, and this was a
time when even people in the Economics Dept., a generation ahead of its
subsequent greatness, were talking about subsistence farming. Talk about
nearsightedness, with a major War only two years away!
I had joined a local fraternity, with the distinction of having Richard
Feynman as one of its resident members. I didn’t know in advance
that he was there, or even after I got to live with him that he
was a genius, destined to become one of the greatest physicists of this
century, a Nobel prize winner, a legendary teacher and unforgetable
personality. All I saw was a very sharp young man, who as a sophomore
was helping physics seniors, who was pleasant and tolerant of lesser
brains, at least of mine, and a great joker. I saw him performing some
arcane experiments in our common rooms with simple things, and was
careful not to sit too close to him at dinner, because of his
gravity-defying manipulations with full glasses of water. I’d like to be
able to say that knowing him at school influenced my life, but I really
was more impressed by his beautiful and adoring intended, who came to
visit him at school, suitably chaperoned by both her mother and father.
Dropping his name did help me later on from time to time, when I had to
deal with some excessively self-important scientist.
Pressing on, from the outset, I loaded up on all the liberal arts
electives I could (I even played Caesar in my Sophomore English class’s
production of Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra, against some graduate
student’s wife. She embarrassed the hell out of me by cuddling up to me
on stage in a very filmy tunic—obviously a set-up job) I got A’s
(or Tech equivalent, H’s) in all these non -engineering courses, against
more modest grades in the rest, so I ended up graduating with an honors
grade point average, and membership in Tau Beta Pi, the national
engineering society.
I believe this rather strange election may have been fortuitous since
soon after graduation it became evident that, in a large organization, a
literate and articulate so-so engineer had a big advantage,
success-wise, over the usual mechanical or electrical whiz with the
presentation skills of Grog. At least at that time. I think
that in today’s high-technology world, this distinction may not be as
applicable.
For extra-curricular activities, I was involved in the management of
the M.I.T Glee Club, and was its baritone soloist. To drop another name,
the 2nd tenor next to me in the Club’s Octet was the kid brother of
Dorothy DeLay, who even then was legendary as a teacher of future great
musical soloists.
I was in the ROTC and learned to fly Piper Cubs under the Government’s
prewar Civilian Pilot Training.Program. The singing just faded
away. The flying, too, as soon as Pearl Harbor day came. (I’d been
called up in the preceding August as a non-rated "chairborne" Air Corps
type.) I picked up flying again in 1974, and went on to become
instrument rated, and to do a lot of recreational flying, That stopped
about ten years ago, when I started getting just a tad absent minded (I
switched to building and flying radio-controlled models.)
We "Tech" students weren’t just greasy grinds, as the Harvard men liked
to tell their dates. We had our moments. For example, there’s this
little episode:
Because I had so badly subverted the grade-point average system by
loading up in my Freshman and Sophomore years on easy liberal arts
subjects, I was elected to Tau Beta Pi in my junior year. (Of course
some of the real engineers scored even better) I was active in
managing and singing in the Glee Club. My management duties
included negotiating joint concerts with women’s colleges and schools in
the vicinity. We’d usually show up with 40 to 60 men, to more than 100
girls. . That made the balance of voices about right, and the women to
men ratio at the formal dances which usually followed just peachy.
Now the only obligation we Tau Beta Pi foot soldiers had was to show up
at the induction of new members into the Society. Well, it came to pass
that we had such an event on an afternoon in which we had scheduled a
joint concert with the Kathryn Gibbs School for Girls in Providence that
evening, and it was to be a high point of our performance year. I was to
do a little solo in the middle of the program. I couldn’t cover the
afternoon event and then drive to Providence in time for the concert.
What a dilemma!
It turned out that there was another man with the same problem. He was
a Dupont, and had his own light plane, A Stinson Voyager, hangared at
Logan Airport . So we both showed up at the Tau Beta Pi induction in
formal clothes, patent leather shoes and all, which undoubtedly
impressed the inductees. As soon as we could get away gracefully, we
made a mad dash to the airport, to find a nice strong wind right down
the runway. This made for a stiff cross wind at the right-angled
taxi way, wet with afternoon drizzle.
Well, the Voyager had a very large vertical tail which made for a
vicious tendency to weathercock into the wind. Guess who was
dragged by the wing tip, over the wet pavement and through the grass
verge, so we could get to the runway and line up for take off?
We made it to the concert just in time for me to walk to the front of
the stage for my solo. Our professional conductor glowered fiercely at
me, and then laughed with everyone else at the sounds my wet patent
leather shoes made. And about the following dance. I squished through
one set, and became a wallflower until the event was over.
My rich friend flew home alone. I took the Club’s bus, with my feet on
the heater all the way