What They Say About The Book' Presents in vivid, human terms many of the young scientists and engineers who first harnessed this primal force, and the extraordinary times and environment in which they worked and lived...an enlightening and fascinating account. 'From the Foreword by the late Dr.GLENN T. SEABORG, Nobel Laureate, Co-discoverer of plutonium, Chairman, US Atomic Energy Commission, 1961-71' A unique contribution...I don't know of any other book that covers the same ground--which was ground zero for the evolution of this important and controversial technology... It doesn't hurt that you're an engaging storyteller and that you were present at the creation. 'RICHARD RHODES, Independent journalist and historian, winner of a Pulitzer Prize, a National Book Award, a National Book Critics Circle Award, and a History of Science Society Award' His prose disproves the prevalent belief that no engineer can write. The sentences flow gracefully, with a feel for the rhythm of English that many who make a profession of writing would envy.' CONNIE BUCHANAN, Editor of Tom Clancy's 'Hunt for Red October.' 'Ted Rockwell takes countless disaggregated fragments of history and welds them together in a fascinating story that all Americans can read, understand, and enjoy. A gifted scientist, engineer, visionary, and author, Ted has been a front-line player throughout this Age - eminently qualified to tell us the true story and set the images straight.' Admiral James. Watkins, USN (ret), Chief of Naval Operations, 1982-86; Energy Sec, 1989-93. 'Ted Rockwell's engaging style and compelling first-hand account give an invaluable perspective on the Manhattan Project and its aftermath. Ted gives us a glimpse into the emotional and cultural realities of the Manhattan Project. His extraordinary gifts--as a scientist and raconteur--make this a uniquely insightful and entertaining
Excerpt from Chapter 3
As part of the effort of scientists and engineers to educate themselves in the rapidly-changing politics of nuclear energy after Hiroshima, a series of Town Meetings led by noted speakers was held in the high-school auditorium, the only such facility in town. These were stereotypical American town meetings in that each citizen who wished to comment on the subject at hand was given respectful attention and time to do so. But the meetings were unique in the global sweep of the issues covered.
They were memorable affairs, and each had its own tone and power. Ely Culbertson, for example, surprised most of us by saying he had spent much of his early life in foreign jails as a political prisoner, and that he had devoted much of that time to studying possible forms of world government. He said he had created the card game bridge as a bet with a psychologist friend that he could invent a game that would sweep the world. To him it was an experiment in mass psychology, nothing more, and it no longer occupied his mind. When asked long and rambling questions, he would repeat them verbatim, then paraphrase them into crisply-worded questions, pause a moment, and answer with similar brisk clarity. He had a detailed plan of action, and specific answers to every question. It was a dazzling demonstration of a powerful mind at work, and the entire hall was entranced.
The next meeting featured the noted writer and editor Norman Cousins, a totally different phenomenon. My main recollection from that meeting was the emotional intensity that he built up, in stark contrast to the Culbertson meeting. I remember a woman stepping out into the aisle and walking toward him, her arms outstretched, tears running down her cheeks, sobbing, "But what can I do, Mr. Cousins? What can I do?" To which he replied, with equal fervor, "Shout it in the streets! Knock on doors! Storm the capitol!"
Charles D. Coryell, a radiochemist from X-10 and a student of Glenn Seaborg s, gave a talk to the high-school students, and they were sufficiently moved to organize a Youth Council on the Atomic Crisis (known as "Yak-Ack" among the irreverent). In short order they managed to get themselves heard over national radio, had articles in the national press, and were invited by the UN Council of Philadelphia to address groups there with a total audience estimated at 21,000.
These and other political actions were effective. When the House tried to load the McMahon bill with onerous amendments, 70,000 letters of protest were received, at a time in history when public participation in the political process was otherwise at a low ebb. And the process continued for another decade. The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists continues publication to this day, as a widely-read journal of opinion and information. However, I share the disappointment of Alvin Weinberg, former director of Oak Ridge National Laboratory, who wrote in "The First Nuclear Era" (AIP Press, 1994):
"As so often happens with such organizations, FAS and the Bulletin were gradually captured by anti-nuclear activists. I am particularly chagrined that the Bulletin, which under its first editor, Eugene Rabinowitch, saw nuclear energy as a powerful agent for creating material abundance, now seems to view nuclear energy as an abomination."
One of the lessons we learned from lobbying was that the most effective message is one of impending doom. We were willing to use this tactic to get people s attention in our effort to achieve civilian control of the atomic energy program "it s not just another ordnance project." Our card-file of congressmen and others we were lobbying was divided into two categories: SCARED and UNSCARED, i.e. those we had visited and those we had not yet reached. But we were quite unprepared for the same tactic to be used against nuclear power in the 1970s and beyond. Perhaps we had it coming to us.
