Adventures in the Atomic Age: From Watts to Washington , Glenn T. Seaborg with Eric Seaborg Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, New York, 2001. $25.00 (352 pp.). ISBN 0-374-29991-9
Glenn Seaborg, discoverer of plutonium, Nobelist, and the only scientist to have an element (seaborgium-106) named for him during his lifetime, is surely the most prolific scientific diarist of the 20th century. Part of his journal, covering his 10 years as chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, contains 18 000 pages. That and his scrupulously kept diary (begun when he was 14 years old) attest to and explain (in part) Seaborg’s great strength as a nuclear chemist: He simply worked harder than anyone else! I never could understand why some who worked with him at the Chicago plutonium laboratory (“Metallurgical” Laboratory) thought he worried too much about the Nobel Prize; everybody knew all along that he would win one!
His memoir, Adventures in the Atomic Age: From Watts to Washington, written with his son, Eric, a professional writer (who completed the memoir after his father’s death in June 1999), is a fascinating distillation of these journals: We learn about Glenn’s origins as the grandson of Swedish immigrants, his career as the discoverer of transuranium elements; his tenure as respected and often envied boss of chemical research at the Metallurgical Laboratory, his chancellorship of the University of California, Berkeley, his stint as chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, and more.
The book has great historical value. It is especially interesting to old-timers like me, who knew and liked Glenn. Besides bringing Glenn the person into focus, the book clarifies many puzzling aspects of the nuclear enterprise. For example, the controversy over Glenn’s in absentia letter to Robert Oppenheimer, in which Glenn reluctantly argued, “I have been unable to come to the conclusion that we should not develop the H-bomb.” Oppenheimer’s negligence in not sharing Glenn’s views with the rest of the General Advisory Committee was a factor in Oppenheimer’s loss of security clearance—an outcome that Glenn bitterly opposed.
We also learn that 41 of the nuclear weapons tests were aimed at the Plowshare Project (the peaceful uses of nuclear explosions). Although I was at Oak Ridge during this time, I had no idea that so many of the tests were part of the Plowshare program.
Aside from Glenn’s massive contribution to chemistry, we read of his deepest views on arms control and nuclear power. Although, as the father of plutonium, he could hardly have said otherwise, his arguments favoring nuclear are cogent.
I admire Glenn very much for pushing the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty—which President Clinton signed, but which the Senate has sidetracked. Glenn thought little of Star Wars, and he adduced the standard arguments against defensive missiles. In this respect, I believe he was shortsighted. Star Wars makes sense if, as many hope, the number of intercontinental ballistic missiles is eventually reduced to, say, 100 on each side. Some arms control experts (as well as Presidents George W. Bush and Vladimir Putin) seem to support this ultimate posture. I wish Glenn had expressed his views on such a long-range scenario.
In reviewing Glenn Seaborg’s life, I can only stand in awe. The diligence and common sense displayed in this book are sui generis. The essence of the man is captured in his “Letter to a Young Scientist,” which Eric Seaborg added as an appendix. Here Glenn Seaborg says, “A particularly necessary element in the makeup of a good scientist (is) simple hard work!” Glenn’s legacy to science is contained in that sentence. He was a great scientist, administrator, and public figure, whose remarkable success was largely attributable to hard work.
