Tea Time With Einstein 

 By Gerald D. Klee, M. D. 

Princeton University was lively in the summer of 1944. The beautiful lawns on the campus had practically disappeared under the marching feet of thousands of men wearing uniforms of the U. S. Army,  Navy and Marines. World War II was on and most college age men were in the service. American college campuses were kept alive by servicemen sent for specialized training by the armed forces. For most, college was to be a brief interlude before we exchanged our slide rules for more conventional weapons of war.

 I was seventeen years old and a member of the Army Specialized Training Reserve Program, studying freshman level mathematics, physics, engineering and other sciences. One day we heard that we were invited to attend a tea with Albert Einstein. It was to be held on Sunday afternoon at a local Service club run by the Jewish War Board (JWB) an organization similar to the U.S.O. While we knew that Einstein was at the Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton , we had assumed that he existed in Olympian detachment. It was beyond our wildest expectations that one might run into him on the street or in a Service club.

The event must have been poorly advertised, for only about five of us students showed up at the club on Sunday afternoon. The day was sunny and hot. The club was a converted shop, not far off Nassau Street . We arrived at the same time as Einstein, who had walked over from his home on Mercer Street , a few blocks away. Inside we found a group of about fifteen young women, also of college age. Soon we each had a cup of tea in our hands and stood in a circle around our guest. He had the same rumpled look he does in photographs from that time; medium height and build, long, untamed, gray hair, baggy pants and nondescript, pullover shirt. His manner was warm, simple, and slightly humorous. He spoke to us as equals, and his lack of self-importance was in great contrast to some professors I have known.

I don't remember how the conversation got started, but soon in his heavy German accent he was discussing world affairs, fielding questions about the war, Roosevelt , the fate of the Jews, and so on. That he seemed both interested and knowledgeable on these matters came as a surprise since at that time I was unaware of his keen interest as well as his involvement with world affairs. Least of all did anyone suspect the contributions of this great pacifist to the development of the atom bomb, beginning with his scientific discoveries and including his 1939 letter to Roosevelt which eventually led to the Manhattan Project. Despite its controversial nature and despite Einstein's opposition to its use in 1945, this weapon may have saved the lives of countless American servicemen in the war with Japan . My classmates and I were converted to combat infantry riflemen before the war's end, and I believe our lives were among those saved.

The topic on everyone's mind was the scientific work for which Einstein was so famous. But who would have the temerity to bring up the subject? Before long a young woman's voice piped out, "Dr. Einstein, would you tell us about your theory of relativity?" Einstein indicated that he would be very happy to do that. He said that it was very simple and that anyone could understand it. He illustrated his remarks with familiar, everyday objects, and avoided esoteric examples as much as he could. He spoke of gravity, the curvature of space, of time and of the speed of light. All of these things are related. The speed of light is constant but time is not. The universe somehow bends around, rather than having an end or going on forever. And as space bends, so light bends with it. Time speeds up or slows down in relation to velocity or gravity, and so on. That was an awful lot to absorb at once, especially when delivered in a heavy foreign accent. Some of us managed to appear highly attentive and comprehending, but much of the audience lost interest. Teacups and saucers rattled, while whispered conversations on other subjects sprang up among the girls. But Einstein seemed oblivious to the chatter as he went on with his subject.

 Finally we had an open discussion about relativity. To illustrate a point, Einstein said that in the case of a ball falling to the earth, one could just as well say that the earth is falling to meet the ball, depending upon one's frame of reference. Perhaps I had gained an inkling of what Einstein had been saying because this simple statement was in some ways the most alarming thing I had ever heard. It is more than a play on words to say that it turned the whole world upside down. Yet my common sense view of the universe was not readily abandoned. I summoned up the courage to pose the following question:  "Suppose while you are dropping that ball to the earth, another person, at the very same time, on the exact opposite point on the earth, is dropping another ball. In that case, how can one say the earth is falling to meet the ball, since to do so it would have to be simultaneously moving in opposite directions?

 I have told this story many times. At this point I usually describe Einstein as scratching his head and saying, 'Mein lieber Gott, I wonder why I never thought of that." One might be surprised at how many people respond with a conspiratorial laugh and a nod at this point. But why not? Common sense triumphs and we are relieved to discover that our world view is safe and not in need of revision.

After this little joke I go on to Einstein's actual reply. In one simple sentence he completed the task of setting my entire common sense world on its ear. "Ah,” he said with a gentle smile, "but it is never the same time in two different places."

Once in a while I return to Princeton for a brief visit. The buildings, the people and the atmosphere are all different. Einstein is gone. It is never the same time in two different places. One might add: it is never the same place at two different times.

This article was first published in MD Magazine in 1986. The sketch of Albert Einstein was done by Paul Goodman, who gave me a copy as a gift in November 2007. Gerald D Klee