"Always Forging Ahead (An Autobiography of Emilio Segre)"

Author: Emilio Segrè (USA), translated by He Lisheng and others
Translator: He Lisheng, Wang Hongsheng
Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-07-01
Features: Because I had a car, we could go to places that people without cars couldn’t. At the end of May 1927, I, Enrico, and Racesti went to Monte Castello in Abruzzo. From there, we climbed along the ridge to the highest peak of the Apennines, Gran Sasso (now called Monte Corneo—translator’s note). This hike took about two or three days and required sleeping outdoors. Under these circumstances, our friendship developed quickly. Soon after, Racesti introduced me to Fermi. They were both looking for students, while I was looking for a teacher, and it was a perfect match. By the end of July, I and Racesti went to central Italy, walking along the Liri Valley to Cervara d’Ete. This was a beautiful and long trip. The remote valley was deep and long, sparsely populated, with well-preserved forests of beech, oak, and maple. Over the centuries, Italy’s forests had been destroyed, but this area preserved some of Italy’s original landscape. As we approached the summit, Racesti began searching for a small species of Bythinus insects. These insects lived under the bark. He collected them in small glass containers he carried and took them back to expand his famous beetle collection. Meanwhile, he taught me the principles of statistical mechanics and the Boltzmann distribution loudly. He claimed that, apart from Fermi and himself, no physics professor in Italy was familiar with these theories. On Cervara d’Ete, I also learned some variational methods and analytical mechanics. I enjoyed these unusual lectures and took notes on the way home. A few weeks later, I, Fermi, Racesti, and a few young men and women went on a trip to Ostia. Fermi talked about physics and asked me what I knew. He asked me to calculate the vibrations produced by a thick rope hanging down. My answer satisfied him, and our friendship began from there. In the summer of 1927, as usual, we drove my car to the Alps, to the Val d’Herens. On the way, I made a brief stop near Genoa to say hello to J. Lionata, my girlfriend whom I loved and hated. She was on vacation there. The group included Giovanni Enrico, Racesti, Fero-Luca, Piero Francesco (Enrico’s cousin), and me. We stayed in a very simple house and began the difficult climb: the Dents des Bouquetins, the Dent d’Herens, and other peaks. I had a guidebook and studied the climbing routes carefully according to it. This was a wise approach, but I was too rigidly attached to the book because I often said, “The book says we should see a sign here marking where someone died.” My friends often teased me about this. However, finding markers and key locations helped us reach our destination. Once, we encountered a thunderstorm while climbing. Sparks flew from the ice axe we used to chisel ice, and our hair stood on end. The scene was both spectacular and terrifying. That summer, I first experienced Racesti’s strange, almost pathological eccentricities. Whenever it got dark, foggy, or for any other reason, he would wander off from the group. Afterwards, he would act proud, as if he were joking. Psychologists could examine this behavior. We left the Val d’Herens and crossed the Gran Sasso, starting our climb up the Matterhorn on August 4, 1927. The weather once threatened us, but we seized a clear spell and hurried back from Bressanone. That night, we stayed at the Luigi Amido Savoy Hut. The next day, we finally reached the summit in the freezing cold and strong wind. We descended from the Swiss side. We stayed at the Solvay Hut. That year, the snow and ice conditions in the mountains were very difficult, and our climb was no easy feat. In Bressanone, we met the Duke of Abruzzo, who was the king of Italy’s cousin and also a famous explorer. We also met the famous writer and mountaineer Guido Rey. Guido Rey invited us to his villa for tea and gave us some photos. Since World War II, Bressanone has also been transformed by many buildings and passing vehicles. In our time, the best route was a mule track starting from the Gran Sasso. After climbing the Matterhorn, I met my uncle Claudio in Aosta, who happened to be holding a geology conference there. I accompanied him on a field trip, and he introduced the landscape from the perspective of a geologist. For me, it was an inspiring and fascinating lesson. I don’t know why he had never taken me on a field trip before. Unfortunately, it was the last time. While we were in Aosta, my uncle Claudio had a mild stroke. At first, it wasn’t serious, and he recovered quickly. But after returning to Rome, he had several more strokes, each worse than the last. On March 18, 1928, he passed away. This was my first experience with the death of a loved one, and the scene remains unforgettable for life. From what I’ve written about him earlier, it’s clear how great a loss his death was to me. In September, I went from Aosta to Como to attend the international physics conference commemorating the 100th anniversary of Volta’s death (Volta died in 1827). It goes without saying that I wasn’t invited because I wasn’t even a physics student at the time. But I thought that if I was bold enough to follow Racesti, who was following Fermi, I might be able to sneak into some lectures and learn a bit about the situation. This method worked. In addition to attending lectures, I collected some free publications distributed to the attendees, especially a series of excellent articles on modern physics by K. K. Darrow of the Bell Telephone Company. During the conference, I read these articles carefully. Many famous physicists attended, including Max Planck, Ernest Rutherford, Niels Bohr, Robert Millikan, Walther Nernst, and Werner Heisenberg. Einstein didn’t come because he didn’t want to attend a fascist Italy. Corbino, Quirino Majorana (Uncle of Ettore), Fermi, and a few others represented Italy. It was clear that, in the eyes of foreign attendees, Fermi was the only Italian who mattered. The organizers hosted a luxurious reception and arranged high-standard tours. Corbino privately commented that Italy should show more physics instead of being generous with hospitality. It shouldn’t delude itself into thinking that hosting a conference could replace scientific achievements. The delegates traveled from Como to Rome, where Mussolini greeted them. What I saw and experienced at the conference tilted my decision in favor of physics over engineering. The friendships I formed with Racesti and Fermi in the spring convinced me that I had a rare opportunity to study physics and eventually work in the field. After that, I seriously considered this matter. The younger professors who were only a few years older than me didn’t treat me as a newcomer but as a future colleague. They were willing to let me use the physics department’s laboratory, learn about their work, and help them. What more could I ask for? After returning to Rome, I began visiting the Physics Institute at Via Panisperna 89A regularly. My mentors, wearing rather dirty gray gowns, still remind me of the distinctive smell of these clothes. They told me the purpose of the experiments, the techniques used, and the results expected. At that time, I had read many physics books and had reached an intermediate level of classical physics. Thanks to the excellent mathematical education at the university, my math was strong. I also had some knowledge of chemistry and had worked in a good analytical chemistry laboratory during my engineering studies. My practical experience came from amateur experiments using non-professional equipment.