At the age of four months, Kenneth Wolf startled his Cleveland parents, who are both Russian-born lawyers, by speaking a complete sentence. A year and a half later, he toddled over to the family piano, pounded out a tune by Liszt. By the time he was ten, Kenny Wolf had written a dozen pieces of his own, had been asked to leave grammar school because he knew too much.
He thereupon jumped into the freshman class at Western Reserve University, rose to the head of the class in mathematics and organic chemistry (TIME, March 16, 1943). Last March he went on to...
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