To the Editor:

A couple months back, a house near ours was looking deserted. A dumpster finally appeared and I noticed among the discards some wood that would be perfect for a backyard project. I knocked on the door and got permission to take anything I wanted. Days later, I stopped by again and noticed some old science books, mostly physics. I took one about Einstein, intending to return later for a closer look. The next morning, the dumpster was gone. Again I knocked, and learned that this unassuming house I walk by every day had been the home of no less than Julian Bigelow, chief engineer at the Institute for Advanced Study for von Neumann’s 1940s project to build one of the world’s first computers.

Though Bigelow’s papers and a few books will end up in various archives and a Bryn Mawr sale, thousands of books were thrown out for lack of a home. I’ll always wonder what books slipped away just out of reach. The loss had particular poignancy for me because I know a bookshelf where they might have been perfect, in the former house of the great mathematician Oswald Veblen out in Herrontown Woods.

Though Veblen’s uncle Thorstein is better known, Oswald may have left the greater mark. His vision and influence were instrumental in building the Princeton U. math department into a powerhouse, designing Old Fine Hall, and bringing the Institute, and Albert Einstein, to town. We also owe him gratitude for hundreds of acres of greenspace in town. The Institute Woods and Herrontown Woods would likely not have been preserved if not for Veblen’s influence, generosity, and love of nature.

But Veblen’s contributions to the world we now inhabit extend beyond Princeton. Though most of Bigelow’s books were lost, they led me to recent writings by George Dyson (Turing’s Cathedral) and Jon Edwards. Therein lie descriptions of Veblen’s role in helping get German math and physics scholars out of Germany before World War II, “undoubtedly delaying the development of Hitler’s bomb.” His work on ballistics during the world wars increased the accuracy of Allied artillery and stirred early interest in developing machines to expedite the necessary trajectory computations. Dyson devotes a chapter of his book to Veblen’s role in spurring and facilitating development of the computers we use today.

All of which brings us back to those empty bookshelves in a boarded up house in Herrontown Woods. When Veblen died in 1960, after a life of transformative service to University, Institute, town, nation and world, he left behind one wish for that house–that it be made into a library and museum. That wish remains ungranted, as the neglected county-owned house and nearby farmstead move toward demolition. A citizens group has submitted a proposal to restore the buildings and put them to public uses, but like the dam restorations at Mountain Lakes, all depends on funding.

Lest more books slip needlessly into the abyss, I encourage anyone seeking a good home for books related to the Veblens and other Institute luminaries to contact me (609.252.0724, veblenhouse.org). If individuals and local institutions come forward to grant the Veblens’ dying wish, we’ll have some fine bookshelves to put them on.

Stephen Hiltner

North Harrison Street