Dare Obasanjo

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The first time I met Teller was in March 1949, when I talked to the physicists at the University of Chicago about the radiation theories of Schwinger and Feynman. I diplomatically gave high praise to Schwinger and then explained why Feynman's methods were more useful and more illuminating. At the end of the lecture, the chairman called for questions from the audience. Teller asked the first question: "What would you think of a man who cried 'There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet' and then at once drank down a great tankard of wine?" Since I remained speechless, Teller answered the question himself: "I would consider the man a very sensible fellow." In 1949 the physics department at Chicago was second only to Cornell's in liveliness. Fermi and Teller in Chicago were like Bethe and Feynman at Cornell. Fermi the acknowledged leader, friendly and approachable but fundamentally serious. Teller bubbling over with ideas and jokes. Teller had done many interesting things in physics, but never the same thing for long. He seemed to do physics for fun rather than for glory. I took an instant liking to him.

I had been told in confidence by my friends at Cornell that Teller was deeply engaged in the American effort to build a hydrogen bomb. As a visiting foreigner I had no business to know about such things, but I was intensely curious to understand how a man with such a jovial and happy temperament could bring himself to work on the perfecting of engines of destruction even more fiendish than those we already possessed. In Chicago I found an opportunity to start an argument with him about politics . He revealed himself as an ardent supporter of the World Government movement, an organization which in those days promised salvation by means of a world government to be set up in the near future with or without the cooperation of the Soviet Union. Teller preached the gospel of world government with great charm and intelligence. I concluded my weekly report to my family with the words: "He is a good example of the saying that no man is so dangerous as an idealist." Two years after my visit to Chicago, Teller and Ulam at Los Alamos made the crucial invention that changed the hydrogen bomb from a theoretical to a practical possibility. In 1949, before the Ulam-Teller invention , Oppenheimer had written of the hydrogen bomb , "I am not sure the miserable thing will work, nor that it can be gotten to a target except by ox-cart." After the invention, as Oppenheimer said at his trial, "From a technical point of view it was a sweet and lovely and beautiful job." Once the invention was made, in March 1951, it took the Los Alamos laboratory only twenty months of concentrated effort to build and explode a full-scale experimental bomb with a yield of ten million tons of TNT . A few years later, Teller published a historical account of the ~~developm ent~~ of the bomb with the title "The Work of Many People," pointing out that he had received an excessively large share of both credit and blame for the bomb's existence. It was true that the bomb was very far from being the work of one man. Nevertheless, Teller had been the chief instigator and driving force, pushing indefatigably toward the bomb's realization, refusing to be discouraged by delays and difficulties, ever since the distant days of 1942 before Los Alamos began, through the wartime years and the years of frustration after 1945 when almost nobody would listen to him. He had thought longer and harder about hydrogen bombs than anybody else. It was no accident that he was the first to see how the things had to be built.

I had been told in confidence by my friends at Cornell that Teller was deeply engaged in the American effort to build a hydrogen bomb. As a visiting foreigner I had no business to know about such things, but I was intensely curious to understand how a man with such a jovial and happy temperament could bring himself to work on the perfecting of engines of destruction even more fiendish than those we already possessed. In Chicago I found an opportunity to start an argument with him about politics . He revealed himself as an ardent supporter of the World Government movement, an organization which in those days promised salvation by means of a world government to be set up in the near future with or without the cooperation of the Soviet Union. Teller preached the gospel of world government with great charm and intelligence. I concluded my weekly report to my family with the words: "He is a good example of the saying that no man is so dangerous as an idealist." Two years after my visit to Chicago, Teller and Ulam at Los Alamos made the crucial invention that changed the hydrogen bomb from a theoretical to a practical possibility. In 1949, before the Ulam-Teller invention , Oppenheimer had written of the hydrogen bomb , "I am not sure the miserable thing will work, nor that it can be gotten to a target except by ox-cart." After the invention, as Oppenheimer said at his trial, "From a technical point of view it was a sweet and lovely and beautiful job." Once the invention was made, in March 1951, it took the Los Alamos laboratory only twenty months of concentrated effort to build and explode a full-scale experimental bomb with a yield of ten million tons of TNT. A few years later, Teller published a historical account of the development of the bomb with the title "The Work of Many People," pointing out that he had received an excessively large share of both credit and blame for the bomb's existence. It was true that the bomb was very far from being the work of one man. Nevertheless, Teller had been the chief instigator and driving force, pushing indefatigably toward the bomb's realization, refusing to be discouraged by delays and difficulties, ever since the distant days of 1942 before Los Alamos began, through the wartime years and the years of frustration after 1945 when almost nobody would listen to him. He had thought longer and harder about hydrogen bombs than anybody else. It was no accident that he was the first to see how the things had to be built.

The invention and building of the hydrogen bomb in 1951-52 were hidden from public view. I was at the time at Cornell University, and all I knew about these matters was that Hans Bethe disappeared to Los Alamos for eight months at a stretch. That year I had to teach Hans's course in nuclear physics. Soon after Hans returned to Cornell, a gentleman from Washington came to visit with a briefcase chained to his wrist. The gentleman looked very uncomfortable standing at the physics department urinal with this massive briefcase dangling. No doubt the briefcase contained the results of the first hydrogen bomb test. Hans was preoccupied with things he could not talk about and seemed to have lost his zest for doing physics. It was a bad year at Cornell. One of the minor consequences of Hans's involvement with the hydrogen bomb was that I decided for the second time to move from Cornell to Princeton. Two years later , when I was in Washington delivering the laundry to Oppenheimer's lawyer, I met Hans Bethe by chance in a hotel lobby. He was looking grimmer than I had ever seen him. I knew he had been testifying at Oppenheimer 's trial. "Are the hearings going badly?" I asked. "Yes," said Hans, "but that is not the worst. I have just now had the most unpleasant conversation of my whole life. With Edward Teller." He did not say more, but the implications were clear. Teller had decided to testify against Oppenheimer. Hans had tried to dissuade him and failed.

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 The first time I met Teller was in March 1949, when I talked to the physicists at the University of Chicago about the radiation theories of Schwinger and Feynman. I diplomatically gave high praise to Schwinger and then explained why Feynman's methods were more useful and more illuminating. At the end of the lecture, the chairman called for questions from the audience. Teller asked the first question: "What would you think of a man who cried 'There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet' and then at once drank down a great tankard of wine?" Since I remained speechless, Teller answered the question himself: "I would consider the man a very sensible fellow." In 1949 the physics department at Chicago was second only to Cornell's in liveliness. Fermi and Teller in Chicago were like Bethe and Feynman at Cornell. Fermi the acknowledged leader, friendly and approachable but fundamentally serious. Teller bubbling over with ideas and jokes. Teller had done many interesting things in physics, but never the same thing for long. He seemed to do physics for fun rather than for glory. I took an instant liking to him.
-I had been told in confidence by my friends at Cornell that Teller was deeply engaged in the American effort to build a hydrogen bomb. As a visiting foreigner I had no business to know about such things, but I was intensely curious to understand how a man with such a jovial and happy temperament could bring himself to work on the perfecting of engines of destruction even more fiendish than those we already possessed. In Chicago I found an opportunity to start an argument with him about politics . He revealed himself as an ardent supporter of the World Government movement, an organization which in those days promised salvation by means of a world government to be set up in the near future with or without the cooperation of the Soviet Union. Teller preached the gospel of world government with great charm and intelligence. I concluded my weekly report to my family with the words: "He is a good example of the saying that no man is so dangerous as an idealist." Two years after my visit to Chicago, Teller and Ulam at Los Alamos made the crucial invention that changed the hydrogen bomb from a theoretical to a practical possibility. In 1949, before the Ulam-Teller invention , Oppenheimer had written of the hydrogen bomb , "I am not sure the miserable thing will work, nor that it can be gotten to a target except by ox-cart." After the invention, as Oppenheimer said at his trial, "From a technical point of view it was a sweet and lovely and beautiful job." Once the invention was made, in March 1951, it took the Los Alamos laboratory only twenty months of concentrated effort to build and explode a full-scale experimental bomb with a yield of ten million tons of TNT . A few years later, Teller published a historical account of the developm ent of the bomb with the title "The Work of Many People," pointing out that he had received an excessively large share of both credit and blame for the bomb's existence. It was true that the bomb was very far from being the work of one man. Nevertheless, Teller had been the chief instigator and driving force, pushing indefatigably toward the bomb's realization, refusing to be discouraged by delays and difficulties, ever since the distant days of 1942 before Los Alamos began, through the wartime years and the years of frustration after 1945 when almost nobody would listen to him. He had thought longer and harder about hydrogen bombs than anybody else. It was no accident that he was the first to see how the things had to be built.
+I had been told in confidence by my friends at Cornell that Teller was deeply engaged in the American effort to build a hydrogen bomb. As a visiting foreigner I had no business to know about such things, but I was intensely curious to understand how a man with such a jovial and happy temperament could bring himself to work on the perfecting of engines of destruction even more fiendish than those we already possessed. In Chicago I found an opportunity to start an argument with him about politics . He revealed himself as an ardent supporter of the World Government movement, an organization which in those days promised salvation by means of a world government to be set up in the near future with or without the cooperation of the Soviet Union. Teller preached the gospel of world government with great charm and intelligence. I concluded my weekly report to my family with the words: "He is a good example of the saying that no man is so dangerous as an idealist." Two years after my visit to Chicago, Teller and Ulam at Los Alamos made the crucial invention that changed the hydrogen bomb from a theoretical to a practical possibility. In 1949, before the Ulam-Teller invention , Oppenheimer had written of the hydrogen bomb , "I am not sure the miserable thing will work, nor that it can be gotten to a target except by ox-cart." After the invention, as Oppenheimer said at his trial, "From a technical point of view it was a sweet and lovely and beautiful job." Once the invention was made, in March 1951, it took the Los Alamos laboratory only twenty months of concentrated effort to build and explode a full-scale experimental bomb with a yield of ten million tons of TNT. A few years later, Teller published a historical account of the development of the bomb with the title "The Work of Many People," pointing out that he had received an excessively large share of both credit and blame for the bomb's existence. It was true that the bomb was very far from being the work of one man. Nevertheless, Teller had been the chief instigator and driving force, pushing indefatigably toward the bomb's realization, refusing to be discouraged by delays and difficulties, ever since the distant days of 1942 before Los Alamos began, through the wartime years and the years of frustration after 1945 when almost nobody would listen to him. He had thought longer and harder about hydrogen bombs than anybody else. It was no accident that he was the first to see how the things had to be built.
 The invention and building of the hydrogen bomb in 1951-52 were hidden from public view. I was at the time at Cornell University, and all I knew about these matters was that Hans Bethe disappeared to Los Alamos for eight months at a stretch. That year I had to teach Hans's course in nuclear physics. Soon after Hans returned to Cornell, a gentleman from Washington came to visit with a briefcase chained to his wrist. The gentleman looked very uncomfortable standing at the physics department urinal with this massive briefcase dangling. No doubt the briefcase contained the results of the first hydrogen bomb test. Hans was preoccupied with things he could not talk about and seemed to have lost his zest for doing physics. It was a bad year at Cornell. One of the minor consequences of Hans's involvement with the hydrogen bomb was that I decided for the second time to move from Cornell to Princeton. Two years later , when I was in Washington delivering the laundry to Oppenheimer's lawyer, I met Hans Bethe by chance in a hotel lobby. He was looking grimmer than I had ever seen him. I knew he had been testifying at Oppenheimer 's trial. "Are the hearings going badly?" I asked. "Yes," said Hans, "but that is not the worst. I have just now had the most unpleasant conversation of my whole life. With Edward Teller." He did not say more, but the implications were clear. Teller had decided to testify against Oppenheimer. Hans had tried to dissuade him and failed.