Sputnik and Me, an October Memory

On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched the first satellite, Sputnik. On the same day in Cincinnati, Ohio, I was at my synagogue observing Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. My 12-year-old self stood on the steps in front of the synagogue discussing this Russian achievement with my friends. I cannot remember what we actually discussed, but I do recall some anxiety. Also, it was a month until my Bar Mitzvah.

At the time, I did not consider how Sputnik might influence my life. Maybe I am being a bit dramatic, but I do think Sputnik influenced my life. After the Russians scooped the United States in launching the first satellite, a general feeling swept our country that attention was needed to prepare more future scientists. 

I still have all my yearbooks from the time, and the 8th-grade Remembrancer of 1958 shows that a new club was formed at Walnut Hills High School, the Rocket Club. This club of 17 members would now complement the Tropical Fish Club, the Camera Club, the Latin Club, the German Club, the French Club (no Spanish Club), and the Fencing Club. I don’t know if I am reading too much into this, but the new Rocket Club was certainly a reflection of the time.

Seven years prior to the launch of Sputnik, the National Science Foundation (NSF) was founded as an independent agency of the federal government to support research and education in all non-medical fields of science and engineering. On October 4, 1957, I had no idea there was such an organization, but I was only a 12-year-old concerned mostly with my social life. After Sputnik, even a boy my age became aware of this foundation. Grants began to appear to finance all sorts of programs to educate youngsters in math and the sciences. By the time I was in the 10th grade, there were lots of summer science programs sponsored by NSF. 

One program was a physics course for high school students at Hiram College in Hiram, Ohio. NSF sponsored this summer program, so it was ridiculously affordable at $55. I went there for the six-week course, and those six weeks changed my life. Dr. Donald Dooley, the professor, was an older man who had been teaching at Hiram forever. He was probably the best teacher I ever had. We had classroom teaching in the mornings and laboratory work in the afternoons.

There was nothing much to do aside from learning physics, as Hiram, Ohio, was a tiny town with only a post office and a small store. The Cleveland Browns football team had a summer camp there, so in the evenings we could play ping pong with the huge players in the student union. Jim Brown, then in his second spectacular year as fullback, often showed up for a ping pong match. No, I never beat him. But, after six weeks, I returned to Cincinnati with a pretty good understanding of physics. 

Now it was my junior year of high school. One of the courses I took that year was Advanced Math. A lot of what was taught had been covered in the physics course at Hiram. I was bored, and I complained to my mother. She secretly wrote to Dr. Dooley to ask for help. She told him how much I enjoyed the summer course, but she also told him that as a result I was now bored with a course that seemed too easy. Dr. Dooley answered with a gift. He wrote me a letter telling me in so many words to get off my butt and challenge myself. He sent along a textbook on calculus, and he observed that if I was bored, I could teach myself calculus. 

This is a bit of a stretch from Sputnik, but I feel it’s connected. I kept the calculus book on my shelf for many years. I pasted Dr. Dooley’s letter inside the cover, and every now and then I would look at it, I suppose, for inspiration. I went on to take plenty of science courses in college and eventually in medical school. Of course, the United States went on to win the race to the moon on July 24, 1969, so, in a way the shame of letting the USSR surpass us in 1957 was erased. 

What happened to the calculus book that used to inspire me? One day I arrived at my office and found that the toilet of the office one floor above mine had leaked. It drenched some of the books on a shelf below the leak. The calculus book was damp and had a fecal odor. I threw it out, and, honestly, I cannot remember calculus at all anymore. But I guess Sputnik did influence my life, I hope, for the better.