IN WAR AND PEACE

Science came into my life first in its purest form when as a young boy I saw the leaders of the California Institute of Technology come to my hometown to watch the casting of the Mount Palomar mirror. In the 1940s, as I walked through the wreckage of wartime London, I saw science in quite a different way, as central to the desperate struggle to survive. That life and death testing of science in turn after World War II ended propelled science in its institutions, style, and quality into the national enterprise that with technology has transformed our lives, our country, and our world.

I was blessed to be a part of that—to contribute to the science and technology that helped make us more secure in the unnerving decades of the Cold War, to see and be a part of the arrival of the Space Age, to help and empower institutions—from Carnegie Mellon University to the National Science Foundation to science advisor to the President—and to help in strengthening and enlarging the American science and technology enterprise.

Memoirs are by definition suspect. They are a melange of memories, of pieces of history selected and shaped by experience, and of imagination invested in events that happened long ago. Memoirs are neither history nor biography, not reflecting the judgments of the professional historian or the dispassionate biographer recounting a person’s life, but rather of someone who was in the thick of the action, involved in many

things but not everything, making judgments shaped by the prisms of personal values; by care for the opinions and reputations of colleagues, friends, and family; and by a watchful eye on the judgments of history.

In that sense this book is suspect. My only defense is that I knew it when I set out to write this book, and determined early on to be as honest as possible, to document where I could. I relied heavily in telling my story on daily pocket calendars I kept beginning in 1943 that recorded the topic, people, and place for meetings. The first draft of the story moved from the daily calendar by dictation and transcription. It retained much of its conversational nature right through lengthy editing. I also relied on taped interviews done over the past three decades, several conducted by professional historians interested in particular parts of my professional life. For example, the Air Force Office of Scientific Research has oral histories of its chief scientists. I also relied heavily on extensive records available, especially at government agencies such as the Air Force Office of Scientific Research, the National Science Foundation (NSF), and the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Not least, I had the good fortune of comments and criticisms of many people who knew in rich detail part of the story I was telling. The clear leader of these is Philip M. Smith, who was with me at NSF and at the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP), retaining a close relationship with me in his extended service with Frank Press at the OSTP and the National Academies. He was a lively participant as the editing of the book progressed and spearheaded the fund that made an editor possible. I am enormously grateful to him and to many others for their help and honesty in helping me tell my story. At the same time, any distortions, judgments that some consider unfair, or just plain mistakes are of course entirely my doing.

The brightest day of all the years of preparing this book came when Norman Metzger agreed to be the editor. With about 2,000 pages of early draft in 16 chapters on my hands, I had been floundering in that search and even had one abortive effort that discouraged me. Trained in chemistry, Norm has rich experiences as a science writer and as executive director of the Commission on Physical Sciences, Mathematics, and Applications at the National Research Council. In that position he became acquainted with a broad spectrum of issues in these sciences and with

science and technology leaders. He has worked with much of the institutional infrastructure of academe, government, and industry to which many of the issues I have been involved in were vital. His work ethic is driving but flexible and understanding. He is dogged in corroborating information as well as enriching it with additional material. Most of all he is easy to work with and has a delightful sense of humor.

My wife, Louise Risley Stever, lived through and participated with me in everything in the last 60 percent of my life. She has kept priceless, often-used journals, diaries, and trip reports and has been close to the agony and ecstasy of writing the memoirs.

Guy Stever

Gaithersburg, Maryland

Writing a book inevitably leaves debts, and I certainly have mine. They include those who made the book financially possible, who helped in documenting my story and most especially in getting it as right as possible, and who reviewed in detail parts of the manuscript and corrected errors, deepened and broadened interpretations, and corrected the distortions of my memory. I was and remain deeply moved by their help.

First, I want to thank those friends and colleagues who backed with financial and institutional help their belief that my story should be told and that I would tell it well. I started making notes and dictating sections of this memoir in 1994, but it became clear that I would not succeed with the daunting task of organizing the eight exciting decades I describe here without retaining professional help for research and editing and additional funding to ensure the production of a well-illustrated book. Richard C. Atkinson, now president of the University of California, and Philip M. Smith, former executive officer of the National Research Council, who were with me at the National Science Foundation, proposed raising a fund that would help me go forward. William A. Wulf, president of the National Academy of Engineering, readily agreed to establish a Guy Stever Memoirs Fund at the academy. The following individuals and institutions contributed to the fund: Holt Ashley; Atkinson Family Foundation; Elizabeth and Stephen Bechtel, Jr. Foundation; Fletcher

Byrom; Robert W. Galvin; William T. Golden; Trevor O. Jones; Ralph Landau; Robert P. Luciano; Ruben F. Mettler; National Academy of Sciences, Bruce Alberts, president; Simon Ramo; Schering-Plough Corporation; Science Service, Inc.; Louise R. Stever; John F. Welch, Jr.; and William A. Wulf. I am deeply appreciative of their support.

That support enabled us to get the Joseph Henry Press to assign Stephen Mautner and his skilled associates the task of publishing the book. His and their prompt, knowledgeable, accurate, response was just what the author and editor needed.

I am also very grateful to the many people and institutions that helped in the research underpinning this book. The resources and people of the Library of Congress were of enormous help. Jeffrey K. Stine of the Smithsonian Institution was invaluable in guiding us to sources, offering counsel, and reviewing major parts of the manuscript. James David, also of the Smithsonian Institution, patiently advised on the availability, or frequently the lack, of military records and how to locate them. The staff of the National Science Foundation who aided in many ways included William Blanpied, Michael Sieverts, George T. Mazuzan (ret.), and Linda Boutchyard. The National Archives and Records Administration helped greatly, especially staff at its College Park branch and at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library. At College Park I had the help and guidance of the staff of the military records branch and of Marjorie Siarlante in locating records of my tenure as director of the National Science Foundation. Invaluable resources and hospitality were made available with patience and thoroughness at the Ford Presidential Library, led by David Horrocks and including Donna Lehman, Karen Holzhausen, Ken Hafeli, Geir Gundersen, and Richard Holzhausen. Janice Goldblum, of the National Academies, was cheerfully and very professionally responsive to many requests for information on my activities associated with the National Academy of Sciences and the National Academy of Engineering. In addition, I am pleased to acknowledge the help of Warren Kornberg, formerly of the National Science Foundation; Michael H. Gorn of the NASA Dryden Flight Research Center; Walter S. Poole of the Joint History Office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; Dwayne Allen Day; Audrey Pendergast, writer and editor; Michael McGeary of McGeary and Smith;

Ben Patrusky of the Council for the Advancement of Science Writing; and Lauren Belliveau of the Embassy of Australia.

The people who read and critiqued parts of the manuscript, and who certainly should share the credit for what is worthwhile but not the blame for what is not, include Jeffrey K. Stine, Bart Hacker, Gregg Herken, and Michael Neufeld, all of the Smithsonian Institution; Dwayne Allen Day, an independent consultant; Roger L. Geiger of Pennsylvania State University; Robert Buderi of Technology Review; Jack Gibbons; Charles F. Larson of the Industrial Research Institute; Edwin Fenton of Carnegie Mellon University (ret.); Michael H. Gorn; Ezra Heitowit of the Universities Research Association, Inc.; Ruben Mettler of TRW, Inc. (ret.); Jacob Neufeld of the Air Force History Support Office; William Pickering of the California Institute of Technology (ret.); Alex Roland of Duke University; Marcia Smith of the Congressional Research Service; and Myron F. Uman and Donald C. Shapero of the National Research Council.

IN WAR AND PEACE