Atomic Telephony
There were simpler times in the history of telephony, and simpler problems to deal with. During the several years I lived in the Hyde Park neighorhood on the south side of Chicago during the 1960's, my favorite neighbor was Lauri Fermi, widow of Enrico Fermi, known for his work on the Atomic Bomb. Mrs. Fermi and I lived in the same apartment building on East 56th Street, directly across the street from the Museum of Science and Industry, and we chatted and dined together frequently. In the fall of 1965, on the occassion of the twentieth anniversary of the completion and first testing of the bomb, Mrs. Fermi told a fascinating story of that summer day, twenty years earlier. Her comments were tape-recorded, and are transcribed below: "The testing was of course kept closely under wraps, you know, the government was awfully sensitive about it. All the papers were giving reports that a monster-like weapon was in the final testing stages, but some of the newspaper accounts were ridiculous. Enrico was given his orders only two days earlier as to exactly where we were to be stationed in the test zone area. Even the local people in New Mexico were told as little as possible; I think the governor and some state officials were told, and sworn to secrecy. "In Alamogordo, we checked into the hotel then drove out to where Enrico had been assigned. It was set up that the scientists were deployed over about a two hundred square mile area; we were about fifteen miles from the target. "The test was set for 4:30 AM the next morning, so we returned to the hotel and went to bed early. We got up at 3 the next morning and drove out to the location, since it took about an hour to set up the test gear Enrico would use....I suppose it was about 4:15, when a fierce rain storm developed. It lasted only five or ten minutes, but was quite a downpour, and Enrico remarked he hoped nothing would go wrong with the test because of it. "Well, the time came and went, everything was quiet, no bomb, nothing. About 4:45, Enrico decided we had better return to town and see what was what, and we drove back. He wanted to make a phone call and see if the test had been cancelled or not, and the only place open in town at that time of night was the hotel where we had stayed. There was a payphone in the lobby, and Enrico went in the booth, but he didn't get anywhere. I heard him flashing the hook and swearing softly, then he came out and said he could not get the operator. (Alamogordo had manual service at that time, just a small switchboard.) "We got in the car, and Enrico had me drive while he leaned out the window and kept looking overhead at the phone wires. He'd have me turn down one street, then turn back up another street, and finally he said pull the car over and stop. "Where we stopped was in front of a house on one of the residential streets there, but what looked odd to me was on the side of the house, there were hundreds of wires converging, coming in from a dozen telephone poles which all seemed to meet in the back yard or on the side of the house. And all these wires came down out of the sky you might say, and went in the side of the house in a big bundle. "The front porch light was burning, and when we went up on the front porch, the front door was open, but the screen door was latched from the inside. A radio was playing music very softly, and the room was rather dim with just a single light burning. A switchboard sat on one side of the room, and the signal lights on it were flashing off and on like Christmas tree lights. Over by the other corner was a sofa, and a woman was laying on the sofa, obviously sound asleep. This was right about five o'clock, I guess, or a few minutes after. "Enrico banged on the screen door a few times, then kicked it once or twice with his foot. All of a sudden, the lady woke up; she looked over at us very startled, standing at the door; she looked over at the switchboard; looked back at us; jumped up and rushed over to the board and sat down, pausing long enough to light a cigarette and she started frantically answering all the flashing signals. "We got back in the car, and drove out to where we had been before. We were there about five minutes, and the test was conducted. Everything the poets have said about the brilliance and beauty of that first explosion was true.... later, we got together with the others who had been assigned there and found out that it wasn't the rain that delayed things; it was that woman asleep; you see, the main people responsible were linked by phones through Alamogordo; they had to coordinate what they were doing and sychronize their work. All of them got the same thing on the phone we got: no answer from the operator for 45 minutes! "Really, I can't blame the lady much. The whole summer of 1945 was just horrid. When we arrived the day before, the temperature was over a hundred; the poor lady probably couldn't sleep at all that day from the heat, and still had to go to work that night exhausted. Then the rain cooled things off twenty degrees in fifteen minutes; that sofa was just too tempting for her; and probably every other night she only got two or three calls in the whole eight hour shift.... "No one ever said anything to her or the woman who owned the phone exchange there, so I suspect to this day, twenty years later, she doesn't realize she was responsible for causing the first atomic bomb explosion in the world to be delayed for a little over an hour....but as I think back now, probably someone should have told her ahead of time about that very special morning, and sworn her to secrecy until the test was completed. "When I was there in town two weeks ago for the (twentieth anniversary) reunion, just from curiosity I went past that house; it took me awhile to remember where it was. No wires anywhere like before; and I asked someone there if the phone exchange was there. He told me the 'telephone lady' had been gone for years; Bell or someone had bought it and moved it to a building in the downtown area." And that was Laura Fermi talking about the summer of '45 in the desert of New Mexico, in the fall of '65 at a dinner.