I graduated from Columbia University in June, 1952, with B. S. in Physics, but with an unrecognized equivalent major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. With my GI-Bill support diminishing faster than originally estimated, I hoped to work by day and go to school at night at Columbia in physics -- the major I did not choose but was forced into by the Veterans Administration (or forfeit GI-Bill support). To get going on a Master's Degree and to "test the waters", I enrolled in a Columbia summer course in "Atomic Physics". But personal matters intervened.

Wife Esther (victim of polio in infancy) suffered her first of many broken limbs. I shouldn't have allowed her to go to work alone. But I was swamped with homework. The damn bus-driver should have noticed that, with her cane and paralyzed left leg, she needed a few more seconds to get seated. When he started up the bus with her still on her feet, she was thrown on her face and her right leg was broken. Then the damn driver walked her across the street on a broken leg and turned her over to the Doorman of our Apartment House. The elevator operator brought her to our door almost hysteric in tears. I carried her to a taxi and into a hospital room.

Her orthopedist of many years, Dr. Mather Cleveland, came up with a novel treatment which he'd developed in the Service during World War II. The fracture had not twisted in the bone, so he packed it in ice, using the swelling itself as a cast. As the swelling gradually wore down, the bone healed and no cast was needed, during many weeks in St. Lukes Hospital in NYC in the summer of 1952.

I rented her a TV, to watch the first showing on TV of the two-party National Conventions -- the Democratic Convention (which chose Adlai Stevenson), and the Republican Convention (which chose Dwight Einsenhower).

Meanwhile, back at each morning's "Atomic Physics", I asked Prof. Hall how the notion of PROBABILITY got into quantum theory. (This is one of the most critical aspects of the theory, as I show in "The Bell Theorem". It provoked Albert Einstein into contradiction!) Prof. Hall started explaining near the end of the morning session, and promised to continue the next day.

Dr. Cleveland wanted to see if Esther was ready to stand and asked me to bring in her shoes that next morning. He said he wanted me to put the shoes into her hands so she would be ready when he made his rounds. This invoked one of many fights I've had, over the years, with Head Nurses, on behalf of Esther. When I appeared with the shoes that morning and insisted on putting them into Esther's hands, the Head Nurse said I was violating visiting hours and demanded I turn them over to her. I picked up the phone and threatened to phone Dr. Cleveland, to say that the Head Nurse wouldn't allow me to comply with his orders.

The Head Nurse yielded and I completed my mission, making me -- melodramattically! -- late for my morning class.

When I seated myself, late, in the class room, Prof. Hall was at the blackboard, seeming quite nervous, talking in a halting voice, and he was not continuing the explanation about "probability in quantum theory", as promised the day before. Abruptly, he dismissed us and departed. In the hall, some guy queried, "Hey, did you hear about the murder?"

Briefly, while I was at the hospital, some poor maniac had entered the office of The Physics Review journal on the 9th Floor of Pupin (the Physics building). When an 18-year-old receptionist asked his business, he shot her through the heart and ran away.

The man ran down the hall. Prof. Hall looked out from a classroom and the assailant shot at him, striking the doorframe beside him. Then the assailant ran down the stairs, escaping.

The police were puzzled. The girl had no boy friends. The family had no known enemies. The "nut" file of The Physical Review was consulted, containing several letters from a man who said he could prove that the electron did not exist and they must stop saying otherwise. Using an address in one of the letters, the police queried his mother, who said he was staying in a local hotel.

When encountered, the man admitted his action. He had chosen three names from the Columbia Catalog and planned to kill one or more of these persons to make the world listen to his theory! Ironically, one of the chosen names was that of Prof. Hall and another that of a former professor of mine, Prof. Lucy Hayner. But this poor demented fellow didn't know how to find them. He recognized the name of The Physical Review (to which he'd sent his letters) on the door of an office. When the young woman spoke to him, he became upset and started shooting. Subsequent evidence resulted in this man being sent to a mental institution.

Prof. Hall was so upset by this that he never answered my question. Four years at Columbia, and the first time a Physics Prof agreed to answer my question, a demented man scared him out of it! I decided to leave Columbia for New York University. And to change from Physics to Mathematics.

Coupled with another problem, MURDER MADE ME A MATHEMATICIAN!