Physicists, like the ancient Greeks, like to gossip about their gods. A few days ago, three physicists* were talking on Twitter** about a review by a fourth physicist, Freeman Dyson, of a biography of one of these gods, J. Robert Oppenheimer, and about his war with another one, John Archibald Wheeler.
Physicist #1: Oppenheimer did the breakthrough work on black holes.
Physicist #2: Isn’t it ironic that Wheeler gets credit for inventing black holes?
Physicist #3: Dyson’s review doesn’t talk about Wheeler’s bitter rejection of Oppenheimer’s black holes and Oppenheimer’s antipathy toward Wheeler.
Physicist #2: So interesting. Maybe Oppenheimer wasn’t accustomed to challenges? And then Wheeler invents the phrase, “black hole”, and Oppenheimer never uses it.
Physicist #1: “. . .[the star] like the Cheshire cat, fades from view. One leaves behind only its grin, the other . . .”
Physicist #1: “. . . only its gravitational attraction.” – John Wheeler 1967
Physicist #3: I heard Oppenheimer sat outside the auditorium when Wheeler was giving the talk that conceded that black holes form.
Physicist #2: I remember now, that story is in Kip Thorne’s book***.
Me: Oh my what a story!
Physicist #1: I’d just like to 100% endorse @AnnFinkbeiner’s tracking it all down.
And off I go to find Kip Thorne’s book. And Wheeler’s autobiography. And Dyson’s review. And the Web of Stories online interviews. And to fall thoroughly down the rabbit hole, where it’s dark and lonely but, you know. Interesting. Continue reading →
The first tips of yellow leaves are showing among aspens and cottonwoods in western Colorado. Summer, though still plenty warm, is beginning to turn. You think about what inevitably comes, leaves dropping, opening the stage for snow and ice. You imagine what it will be like to hear the crunch of it every time you step out the door, how it will drift on the road, and icicles will populate the eaves.
