In the fall of 1939 a young man with a moonish, almost childish face flew his single-engined Beechcraft airplane from New York to Boston, where he huddled with savants at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His incisive understanding of their experiments with a new radio tube left them speechless, unable to believe that he had quit school when he was 13. That night he flew back to New York, repaired immediately to the Stork Club with an eyesome blonde. Near his table sat Walter Winchell. The moony young man's eyes bulged with appeal to Winchell for a word or...
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