This book could not have been written without the encouragement of my parents, especially my father, who first planted the seeds of this story years ago and, when I asked, willingly turned over his family’s papers and letters and spent hours rummaging through boxes and stacks of books. I am also indebted to Betty Loomis Evans and her children, Jacqueline Loomis Quillen and Bart Loomis, who welcomed a stranger with open arms and gave so generously of their time. They shared their detailed memories of their family’s past with great honesty and insight, provided old photographs, and steered me to longtime friends and colleagues. I want to thank, in particular, Alfred and Garret Hobart, for their reminiscences and for giving me access to their mother’s records and photographs. With few exceptions, all the members of the extended Loomis/Thorne clan were forthcoming, and without their help this book would not have been possible.
Most of Alfred Loomis’ papers were lost or discarded when he sold the Tower House in Tuxedo Park in 1950. The few remaining laboratory records, along with the historic guest book, are deposited in the Institute Archives and Special Collections room at MIT. Fortunately, Henry Stimson was an avid letter writer and filled volumes of diaries with his thoughts and observations, and a rich store of material is available in the archives of Yale University Library. Digging up material on Loomis’ myriad activities involved a considerable amount of detective work, and I owe an immense debt to my researcher, Ruth Tenenbaum. She is persistent, patient, and resourceful and came through no matter how obscure the request. I could not ask for a better colleague and friend.
I wish to thank Elaine Kistiakowsky for her kind assistance, for providing a bunk in Cambridge, and for entrusting me with George’s unpublished memoir. Spending time with her again was like coming home in more ways than one. The late Caryl Haskins guided me through Alfred Loomis’ early scientific career and served as an invaluable sounding board. William Golden graciously took the time to review the manuscript, and I benefited from his perceptive comments and wise counsel. For their time and informative tours of Tuxedo Park, thanks also to George Boynton and Chris Sonne. Donna Moreau did yeoman’s work going through the massive Stimson archive.
For moral and editorial support, I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my friends Barbara Kantrowitz and Daniel Hertzberg for their help on the work in progress, for cheering me on, and for their much appreciated advice at every stage.
I count myself fortunate to have the most caring and exacting editor in Alice Mayhew at Simon & Schuster. We talked about my writing a book for many years, and without her encouragement and infectious enthusiasm I never would have settled down to the task. At S&S, I also benefited from the careful pencil of Roger Labrie, the rigorous copy editing of Sona Vogel, and the attention of Alice’s assistants, Anja Schmidt and Jonathan Jao. My deepest personal thanks are owed to my agent, Kris Dahl, at ICM, who has been a great friend and adviser for more than a decade.
And most of all I want to thank my husband, Steve Kroft, for his love and understanding over the long haul. I could not have done it without him. I also want to thank my son, John, for always finding his way clear of all the papers on the floor to give me a kiss when he got home. It made the solitary days bearable.