Prologue

This account is about an individual and a building. The individual is not a person of note. The building is not an architectural masterpiece.

 
In the decades since MIT’s Building 20 was thrown up in a matter of a few months, the Institute has enlarged its physical plant vigorously – usually by commandeering another of its all too few parking lots. The question has been asked, most often rhetorically, why in all this time, Building 20, that eyesore of a WWII relic, has escaped the wrecking ball. Perhaps this narrative can hypothesize a response to that question. Part fact and part fiction; it is left as a problem for the reader to separate the one from the other. ff

The individual was for a time a student at MIT. A very bright but introverted young man, his graduate work led him to findings which he believed could have a profound effect on humanity, possibly to the good but most probably to the greater harm. An unfortunate turn of events causes him to spend the rest of his life attempting, without success, to disentangle the Gordian knot he had at one time almost unraveled. ff

Building 20, an exigency, constructed at the height of World War II in a matter of a few months, became home to highly classified projects whose aim was to give birth to tools that would be used by the US and the Allies in the war effort. To achieve a degree of anonymity, or perhaps even obfuscation, the facility was named the Radiation Laboratory, quickly shortened by the inmates to "Rad Lab".

As the world witnessed VE day and finally the surrender of Japan, World War II came to a close and with it the end of the necessity for that which had been Rad Lab’s mission. While the ending of hostilities lifted the demand for military use of the products developed at Rad Lab, there was a technological momentum in and around Building 20 that didn’t take kindly to being abruptly shut down. Wisely, this time without an attempt at obfuscation, an enlightened management transformed that which was Rad Lab into the Research Laboratory for Electronics. RLE spawned other Laboratories around MIT and  found itself living harmoniously in Building 20 with practitioners of other disciplines.

Twenty E

Dennis Nathan Adams, the first son born to Donald and Catherine Adams in the summer of 1920, took a dislike to his first name early in life. He liked Nate a lot better, made it known and it stuck. Nate would have five additional brothers and sisters, Laura being the last, born in 1932.  Unlike his sisters in particular, who were vivacious and outgoing, Nate was quiet and almost asocial. He was however, a very bright youngster, enjoyed school and did very well.  ff

Nate’s father, several years older than his mother, worked for a company which required that he travel frequently throughout the four northern New England states. When all of the kids were in school, his mother went back to teaching to supplement a rather meager depression era family income. Her family came originally from Vermont and on the death of her grandparents she inherited an old farmhouse in a small town about 35 miles northwest of White River Junction, four hours drive from their home in Massachusetts. When it was possible, Catherine and the kids spent the better part of the summers in Vermont. In the summer Donald’s work was predominantly in New Hampshire and Vermont, so he could be with his family part of most weeks and on weekends. For Nate the farm was a very special place, a place where he could be alone if he wished and where there was a minimum of intrusion into his personal space. He was an avid reader, very interested in nature and inordinately curious about the natural processes that surrounded him.

Valedictorian of his high school class and completing his undergraduate degree in three years, Nate was admitted to the Graduate School at MIT just before the outbreak of WWII. He was in firm grasp of what he wanted to undertake, so much so in fact that he appeared driven as if the Devil himself was after him. What he wanted to pursue didn’t fit neatly into one of the formal disciplines, but with the help of the appropriate department heads he was able to put together a program that suited his needs. In fact, one of the chief reasons he chose MIT was that he felt such an arrangement would not have been achievable elsewhere.

Nate set about his work with vision and intensity. His scholarly pursuits and his research work consumed his waking hours; but it seemed as if these efforts were, for the most part, only catalysts working on the release of something buried in the gray matter of his brain. He wasn’t certain just what it was, but he had an intense compulsion to produce the key that would decrypt the data bottled up inside him. Nate kept meticulous records of the very complex process of his research; he worked alone and rarely, if ever, discussed the nature of his work with others.

Early in 1943, reviewing his work, Nate felt that he had uncovered the path to a remarkable finding. He hadn’t spent enough time in his pursuit to be absolutely convinced, but he did conclude that what he observed, if reduced to practice, might well bring great benefit to humanity. But, in his opinion, it was far more likely that implementation of what he had uncovered would perpetrate a profound disaster. It would all depend on the wisdom of those in whose hands the findings landed. Nate, however, had little confidence in the beneficial outcome. ff

As the weight of his findings lay heavy on Nate’s shoulders, he received word that his father had been hospitalized for a "breakdown" and would require up to a year of rest and therapy. Catherine had found a one year teaching position in Vermont and the family had decided to move there, at least for the duration of Donald’s recuperation. For some time Nate had been troubled with vivid and difficult to shake dreams about his findings and what their disclosure might mean.

Nate’s nature as a very private person kept him from discussing his concerns, to say nothing of his findings, with others. He had only one colleague, with whom he felt comfortable talking about his anxieties and dreams, although he refrained from disclosing the source of his troubles. His friend had been one of the first to move into lab facilities in one of the newly constructed "barracks" called Building 20. By this time Nate had made the decision to consolidate all of his lab notes, observations and conclusions, wrap them in "plain brown paper", and send them to the farm in Vermont. He had decided to enlist and to deal with the problem of his findings if and when he returned from military service.

With the plain brown paper package of wrapped documents in hand, on the way to send them from the post office at Kendall Square, Nate stopped to see his friend Carmine in Building 20B. It was a nasty winter day in Cambridge and Nate was dressed appropriately. He tossed his overcoat over a chair in his friend’s office, with the package placed carefully under the coat. Carmine invited Nate to take a quick tour of Building 20, in particular to look at the last section, 20E for which concrete footings were being poured as they spoke. As it got closer to 4:30, Nate decided he’d better head for the post office. When he picked up his overcoat, the package was gone. He made a discreet but desperate attempt to find it, but to no avail. ff

Over the next week Nate wandered all parts of Building 20 searching for the package, even to checking the construction in process at 20E in the event that somehow, it had ended up there. Unfortunately much of the building was restricted because of the classified work being done and was not available to him. And because of its contents, Nate didn’t feel he could ask anyone about the package. He finally abandoned the search and headed to Vermont for a few days before enlisting in the US Army.

Nate was seriously wounded at Chalon-sur-Saone and transported to a hospital in England for what would turn out to be a lengthy recovery. Long days and nights without much mental stimulus gave Nate an opportunity to ponder his efforts at MIT and to regret the loss of the documents which represented such an important part of his life. He tried in the quiet of this place to reconstruct his research, but ran aground time and time again. Whether it was because the environment wasn’t quite right or the result of a piece of shrapnel having been removed from his skull he wasn’t sure. On the brighter side, Nate met and married an English girl, and joined the ranks of Yanks who returned home with a British war bride. ff

Shortly after VJ day Nate and his new wife stepped off a transport ship at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn where he received his discharge and was returned to civilian life. They boarded a train at Grand Central Station and headed for White River Junction. There was a four hour layover in Boston for the connection to White River, so Nate took the opportunity to revisit the tech school across the Charles. He didn’t really expect to find any of the few friends he had made still there, and he was right. Somehow the environment seemed cold, almost hostile, and totally preoccupied with the flood of returning veterans attempting to take advantage of the GI bill. As he wandered across campus to Building 20 he noted the northwesterly wind that shifted the balance of the dominant components of Cambridge air from soap to chocolate. When he arrived at Building 20 the rebuff he received from the guard at the Vassar Street entrance discouraged him from any more touring; he headed back to North Station.

At White River Junction the couple was met by Nate’s dad who drove them to the farm. The drive up country took about an hour. Conversation wasn’t easy. Donald wanted to ask Nate about his injuries, but he refrained. It was pretty evident that the folks at home weren’t all that sure about this English lady that Nate brought back with him. When they reached the farm, Catherine was pleasant and tried to make the couple feel at home, but the atmosphere was still chilly. The one bright spot on the farm was Laura, Nate’s favorite younger sister, who truly made them feel welcome. They spent about two months at the farm trying to sort out what should come next. Nate had talked at length with Carmine, who was now on the faculty at Berkeley working for Otto J. M. Smith; it was he who persuaded them to come to California.

After a few years at Berkeley, Nate’s wife began to tire of his preoccupation with the search for something she didn’t understand and persuaded him to get a ‘real’ job in industry. The change of venue didn’t help; not long after the move she left Nate and headed for southern California, permanently. Nate had read of work being done at the University of Chicago that interested him, so he packed up the few belongings he could call his own, and moved to Chicago. Although encouraged at first, he eventually had to admit that he had moved no closer to his goal than when he was in California. Reconciled to the fact that the only hope for reestablishing a ‘connection’ was to return to Cambridge, he packed up again and headed east.

With his military injuries, a failed marriage, Berkeley, and Chicago behind him, Nate landed back in Cambridge, frustrated and seriously depressed. The vivid and disturbing dreams returned; he became convinced that he had inherited his father’s illness. He soon found himself an unwilling guest of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in an asylum for the mentally deranged. After a time deemed by the asylum staff to be sufficient for reasonable recuperation, Nate was released to Laura’s care. Laura had returned to the farm after an unsuccessful marriage. As they drove to Vermont together, Nate told Laura of his nightmares and what was behind them. Although she really didn’t understand, she was sympathetic. He told her that as soon as he could he would go back to Cambridge and continue the search.

Nate spent a long time in Cambridge, most of it in and around Building 20, hoping to reconstruct that which he had done once long before. He read voraciously all manner of reports and internal publications which might point to an author who may have been somehow exposed to his work. He still had troublesome dreams, but over time the nature of the dreams changed. Ultimately his dreams seemed to migrate from worrisome pictures to a dialog in which he was directly involved. It got to the point where he wasn’t sure he was dreaming at all, more often than not the interchanges seemed to take place in a state of semi-wakefulness. He could not identify the person with whom he spoke, only that he or she appeared to have great knowledge and power. It could have been God or perhaps the Devil that had been chasing him for most of his adult life. In one final episode it was made clear to Nate that his precious documents were indeed entombed in Building 20, but that neither he nor anyone else would come into possession of them until the day that mankind gained the wisdom to use the contents beneficially. In addition, he was advised that Building 20 would remain intact until that day came.

As the Vermont Transit Lines bus wound its way northbound through rush hour traffic, Nate looked out over the Charles for the last time. It was a bittersweet departure. He was heartened that his work might indeed serve humanity in a positive way but disappointed that, in the final analysis, it would not be his gift.

Epilogue

For most of its life, Building 20 has, through one intervention or another, escaped the executioners axe, whether it might have taken the form of a not-so-misplaced match or an administrative fiat. After some fifty-five years’ service, the day has come for Building 20 to step aside and make way for a sparkling edifice better suited to the needs of the new century.
 

Those of you who will be responsible for removing the last items of value from Building 20, take particular care to keep an eye out for a box of notebooks and papers,  wrapped in half-century old brown paper and inscribed with a Vermont address. As for those of you who will be sidewalk superintending as Building 20 comes down, look around you in the crowd to see if you can identify the ghost of Dennis Nathan Adams.

 
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