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Tuxedo Park : A Wall Street Tycoon and the Secret Palace of Science That Changed the Course of World War II

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Unless you are interested in the history of physics, I will bet you never before heard of Alfred Loomis. And I bet you will not be able to forget him, once you have read _Tuxedo Park: A Wall Street Tycoon and the Secret Palace of Science that Changed the Course of World War II_ (Simon and Schuster) by Jennet Conant. World War II, more than any preceding conflict, was won by scientific and technological superiority, and one of the allies' successes was radar. There was no more daring or inventive mind on the project than that of Alfred Loomis, and we can hope that this remarkable book redeems him from obscurity.

Loomis was groomed for WASP success. He went to Yale, and to law school at Harvard, and then on to Wall Street where he made a fortune. He displayed "a high-powered intellect that could cut through a maze of difficulty with dazzling speed." He was a chess prodigy, a brilliant solver of puzzles, and a keen magician. He and a partner took over a failing bond firm, and started specializing in utilities. They realized the volatility of the 1920s market, and were among the few to make money during the crash and after it. He had one idea in finance after another, and he was dazzlingly successful. But he wasn't interested in making money. He was interested in science. He bought a rambling Tudor mansion in Tuxedo Park, the estate in which he lived, and turned it into a crackerjack private lab, where he did first-rate experiments in timekeeping, ultrasound, biology, and encephalography. Einstein called it "a palace of science." Loomis not only dabbled brilliantly in many fields, he allowed plenty of the greats to come use his lab, and set up conferences for them all to be together. When someone had a good idea but no money to pursue it, Loomis granted the money. He not only had money, but he had contacts. Having underwritten Earnest Lawrence's efforts to produce a cyclotron, he then squired him around to the princes of industry who thereafter supplied the materials and equipment at bargain rates. He had an unbelievably useful ability to make networks. He was at the heart of the development of radar, and the science behind radar (which was devastatingly successful against Nazi planes as well as submarines), and the excitement of successful testing and deployment, are well conveyed here.

Loomis loved his anonymity, he loved being able to experiment in his own way unbeholden to others, and he modestly avoided any of the fame that he deserved. "He was, by disposition, an extremely understated man who really did not care for being center stage." He would have been embarrassed had this summary of his efforts been published in his lifetime, but Conant has had access to his papers and other documents that had previously been unavailable. This is a great story of an astonishing intellect, powerfully told, bringing to light his many accomplishments and contributions to science and to public service.

I went to the World Book Encyclopedia to look for information about Alfred Lee Loomis. There was none. I wondered as I read this wonderful, well researched biography if maybe I was being led to believe that Loomis was the author's invention and that he was not as important an historical figure as he appeared to be. When I read the testimonials of those individuals who wrote about him or who the author interviewed, I readily became convinced that I was reading the story of a legend who was so private about his accomplishments that he had been forgotten. That is, until Jennet Conant completed this fascinating historical account that kept me spellbound through the last words of the epilogue, biography, and acknowledgements. Although Loomis did not literally invent radar or the atomic bomb, it was his scientific and patriotic interest that helped mold the events that led to their development. As a physician, I was fascinated by his development of the clinical application of the electroencephalogram as well as ultrasonography, each of which is currently well utilized in modern medical diagnostics. Among other scientific associations, the "L" in Loran is directly associated with the "L" in Loomis as the development of Loran was essentially his idea. And all this from an amateur physicist who by training was a Harvard educated attorney and investment banker. I will not discuss here where the name "Tuxedo Park" originates since the story will tell you the intricacies of life in the elite gated community that few until now have associated with such original and illustrious scientific discoveries. Anyone with a penchant for history that so touched all of our lives will also be spellbound by this superbly written account of a man, his associates, and the events that just may have led to the preservation of American and western world democracy.

With her biography of Alfred Lee Loomis through her book, "Tuxedo Park", Jennet Conant has given those interested the best view yet of this extraordinary man. I have read many books regarding Wall Street when Mr. Loomis was a player, and many other books on the exchange of information between Great Britain and The United States during World War II, specifically on radar and atomic weapons. The name Loomis is a vague one at best, happily Ms. Conant has remedied this gap in the historical record and delivers a great deal of knowledge about the man and his talents.

Exceptional would be an appropriate word to describe this man. A major financier on Wall Street, he not only was unhurt by the crash of 1929 he benefited from it. While enjoying after dinner conversation he could also play multiple games of chess with his back to the boards, carrying on both the conversation and the multiple games in his mind's eye alone. Clearly a man with a formidable intellect, it is not altogether shocking that after making a huge fortune on Wall Street, he walked away from it and the boards he served on to pursue other interests, interests that would have a major impact on the outcome of the Second World War.

A capitalist to his core, when the need arose for development of important scientific research he routinely would take the money from his own pocket. Over the years this amounted to huge sums of money, and much was spent long before there was the urgency of war. He encouraged and financed the best minds in physics, literally feeding and housing them in a house turned private laboratory in one of the country's wealthiest enclaves Tuxedo Park. Write down any name from Einstein to Fermi to a host of Nobel winners and they all spent time at his homes on many occasions.

And this man was just not a wanna-be with deep pockets. Whether it was innovations with radar, cyclotrons, or getting the armed forces to sit up and pay attention to devices they were in desperate need of, or gathering the money and talent to do whatever was required, he was the facilitator, and he literally made it happen. He also understood the science he was assisting.

Without his organizing the manpower and the facilities to produce devices that were recently just science fiction, the tools that were so critical to winning the war would have taken years to develop if left to the federal government. The armed forces were of little help as they were inherently protective of their own turf and distrustful of the other branches and especially of the, "long hair", physicists. He also bridged the gap of distrust when the British wanted to share innovations The United States was nowhere near to developing. Fortunately diplomacy was almost as offensive to him as a federally run science project, so when the diplomats were arguing he would go off in to a corner and start swapping information.

There were two events described in the book that are priceless. They not only illustrate all that is wrong with bureaucracy but also protecting one's turf when the turf is the same country. These events also proved why privately run efforts would beat Washington every day of the week. The military routinely dismissed the ideas and instruments that were suggested and then built. Mr. Loomis and his people knew better and they would go ahead and build a dozen prototypes, demonstrate them to the top brass, and watch the feeding frenzy begin. After watching these people who hours before had no time to waste on these ideas much less the actual product, Mr. Loomis would politely interject that all the arguing was unnecessary, as the devices were owned by him. The looks on the faces must have been worth any frustration leading up to the moment. All the infighting stopped as the bureaucrats and generals realized they were fighting over what was not theirs. The bickering stopped, and the results of the incredible researchers and Loomis were happily accepted, and orders for countless more were placed.

The book is a very well written account a man who did not want history's attention, and until this book largely avoided it. He is gone now but the implements created by his money, his determination, patriotism, and the huge groups he assembled, are still in use today. They have advanced exponentially in their capabilities, but many started or were nurtured in Tuxedo Park. This country owes a major debt to this visionary.

I am one of the few persons left alive who knew Mr. Loomis. I am in my 80's, Mr. Loomis is accurately portrayed in this fantastic work. This book was very well planned and researched. I am completely satisfied. Alfred is kindly revealed in these pages as he was, a contributor, a man of vision and most of all a man who cared to see good come out of anything to benefit people who wanted good. Alfreds interest in science was based on helping people. I also know Alfred did not want any popularity except for which was inevitable. This book was inevitable. We can give Alfred credit for helping in a huge way as victors of World War II. Read another good book that reveals a bit more especially how this science was applied to defeat the Japanese at Midway and much more, SB: 1 or God by Karl Maddox.

This is one of the most interesting stories I have ever read, and one of the shoddiest jobs of writing. If Alfred Loomis isn't the model for Bruce Wayne (aka Batman), then no one is; and if Jennet Conant's "Tuxedo Park" isn't an example of the sorry state of publishing - greedy, cynical, bottom-line conglomerates who care more about packaging than content - then nothing is. The blurbs on the dustjacket are all from fellow writers, a more logrolling bunch I've never seen; for no respectable critic could possibly provide this book with a usable blurb.

Alfred Loomis is one of the unsung heroes of 20th century American history, and I am grateful, that Miss Conant has brought this elusive man's times and achievements to light. For Alfred Loomis is, at least on a "guy" level, someone we all dream of being: a man with a "hobby" who, in order to support himself and family while pursuing it, first amasses a fortune. He reminds me of another "Yankee genius," composer Charles Ives, who made himself rich by inventing the field of insurance "estate planning" so that his family would not "suffer while I pursue my dissonances".

Loomis was indeed, as Miss Conant states, last of the great amateurs - in my opinion, in the same league with Christopher Wren and Benjamin Franklin. Not for glory or money, but for love of his hobby and patriotism was Loomis the driving force in the development of radar in World War II, arguably the decisive factor in the Allied victory; the (disputed) inventor of LORAN, the worldwide electronic navigation system for ships and aircraft only recently superceded by the satellite Global Positioning System (GPS); and a mentor and enabler for such pioneers in nuclear physics as Ernest Laurence, Luis Alvarez and George Kistiakowsky.

This incredible story is told by someone who, because of family ties to a key player in Alfred Loomis's life, has obtained an "exclusive" on all of his papers, as well as access to members of his extended family. Apparently, if Loomis's story is to be told, it shall be told by Miss Conant. What we are presented, then, is a shoddy patchwork of notes, slapped together without the least regard for narrative continuity and peppered throughout with grammatical amd factual gaffs. Here are just a few examples:

There is a sub-plot to the Loomis story, we are told - that of William Richards, a troubled genius, who wrote a "roman a clef" about Loomis's exploits shortly before commiting suicide. However, Richards' story is dealt with in the first chapter of the book and, except for citations which ornament chapter headings, is not heard from again. Then, there is Alfred Loomis's best friend and business partner Landon Thorne, who remains close to Loomis all their lives, but likewise disappears, after a one-chapter treatment toward the beginning.

In "Tuxedo Park," the cast of characters numbers into the dozens, yet individuals in this diverse lot are repeatedly referred to by last name only, even after a 20-30 page absence. And speaking of Tuxedo Park, the fabulous mansion for which this book is named is abruptly excused, midway through the book, with the meat of the action, that of Loomis's World War II work, occuring elsewhere. It is obvious, that "Tuxedo Park" is so named not because of Tuxedo Park's part in the Loomis story, which despite Conant's padding and fluff is only tangential, but because of its name cachet (Conant writes for Vanity Fair).

"During August, the Luftwaffe's losses in raids over England was 15 percent" (p.210)

"On Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, the Japanese hit Pearl Harbor...America was now at war on two fronts." (p.248)

The "It was a dark and stormy night" school of writing: "On a cold clear morning on Saturday, January 4, 1941" (p.217), "On a raw New England morning on January 10" (p.218), "On a bitter cold New England Morning on March 17" (p.242).

Photo caption: "...guestbook show the names of luminaries Einstein, Heisenberg and Bohr" No Heisenberg, no Bohr.

Moreover, much of the book, especially the scientific narrative, seems to be ghosted. There is a discernable style shift (and absence of gaffes) when Conant leaves the shop talk and returns to character study, of which there is precious little, despite the promise on the dustjacket. We are given the impression, that on a domestic level, Alfred Loomis was somewhat of a cad, but the evidence is cursory and inconsistent.

Jennet Conant is a magazine writer, and her short attention span shows flagrantly in "Tuxedo Park." If Simon and Schuster, the once great publishing house, had an ounce of integrity, they would have recognized the imminent worth of the Alfred Loomis story and the college term paper quality of Conant's manusript and assigned an editor worthy of the name to make a narrative palatable to an educated audience.

I don't know if Miss Conant knows or cares about the disservice she has done Alfred Loomis. I am sure Simon and Shuster knows. And it is obvious, that they don't care.

Tuxedo Park is a factual history lesson, in a vein similar to The Devil in the White City, only without the serial killer.

Tuxedo Park takes place a bit later, pre-World War II. It starts with the death of one of the scientists who used to visit Tuxedo Park, a veritable fortress of technology and leisure. The suicidal scientist posthumously published a fictionalized book about the goings on there and sold it as science fiction. It was so bizarre that of course, nobody suspected, although the primary subject of the novel, Alfred Loomis, knew better.

Alfred Loomis is the star of the story, a rich entrepreneur with an all-consuming, frightening intellect. He applies his own cold, nearly inhuman methodology to business and science and excels at both. Loomis is also charismatic and connects with people in a way that makes him irresistible. A veritable human whirlwind, he swept people up and sometimes left them broken and lost behind him, most notably his wife whom he tried to have committed and left for a younger woman.

Loomis invented electrocardiograms (those brainwave doohickeys that draw jagged lines as a patient sleeps) and radar and made fantastic leaps in refining the science of sonics and magnetics. If the book has a moral, it's that money brings freedom, and Loomis was the freest man on Earth. He developed what he wanted, hosted who he wanted, encouraged projects he felt had vision, and had enough influence to determine the course of events in World War II.

What's so striking is that the world needed Loomis. The author, Jennet Connant, makes striking connections that identify just how significant Loomis' contributions (and machinations) were in ensuring victory over the Axis powers. From the atom bomb to the British radar systems, Loomis' fingerprints are on them all. And it was through sheer force of will, coupled with his massive wealth that made things happen.

The book suffers from the same problems as Devil in the White City - some parts are more boring than others. It's entertaining to read about Loomis' inventions, but I had difficulty distinguishing between the various scientists. There are so many intellects that are hosted by Loomis that they start to run together; on the other hand, the book features a lot of familiar faces like Albert Einstein, Enrico Fermi, and others. Still, the physics and complexities of the inventions, along with the internecine squabbling drag in some places.

Perhaps the most exciting part of the book is when one British physicist embarks on a journey to bring all the technological advances of Britain to America with just himself and a trunk full of highly classified documents and devices. The thought of what could happen to that trunk (and how it nearly gets lost a few times) is nerve wracking and the makings of an excellent short story or role-playing adventure. It's the kind of scenario that is usually considered to be bad form by a writer - but it really happened.

Fortunately for us, the trunk made its way safely to America. The book really picks up as the devices Loomis raced to invent are finally implemented in the war. And then, when the action finally gets going, the book is over. There is definitely a feeling of the passing of something great that people could only look at indirectly and never touch - just like the intentional destruction of the Chicago World's Fair, Loomis Tuxedo Park is abandoned, his "rad lab" of scientists disbanded, only to backstab each other during McCarthy's "Un-American" committees. Worse, Loomis' divorce left his family sharply divided - like all things, Loomis treated his relationships with an intellectual clarity that was less a romance and more calculated odds. When Loomis felt his wife was not measuring up, she was discarded along with his other failed experiments. It dims, but cannot diminish completely, Loomis' personality.

Tuxedo Park is an impressive achievement. It manages to record the origin of the American scientist, the belief that technology is inherently good, and sharply frames the slow, lumbering bureaucracies that run everything from medical achievements to military advancements. In comparison, Loomis and his teams are breathtakingly nimble at a time when the world needed speed and decisive action most. It is an important part of history and a sharp reminder that rich men, should they choose, could do great good or terrible harm. Loomis was that rare combination of brilliance and wealth that creates freedom - an aberration not likely to be seen again in my lifetime.

Alfred Lee Loomis led a double life.

During the week, he brokered deals on Wall Street; weekends he worked with scientists in the basement laboratory of his Tuxedo Park home.

He was probably the only man who successfully wrestled with the Wall Street crowd and managed to be elected to the National Academy of Sciences for his accomplishments in physics.

Jennet Conant chronicles Loomis' rise to financial stardom during the twenties by selling the debt of rapidly expanding public utilities; his premonition of the crash in time to liquidate and protect his holdings and his purchase of Hilton Head Island. At the height of his influence, he retired and devoted himself to science. Surrounding himself with the most visionary minds of the twentieth century - Albert Einstein, Werner Heisenberg, James Franck, Niels Bohr and Enrico Fermi to name a few - in the basement of Tuxedo Park home.

During World War II, he mobilized civilian scientists to defeat the enemy and personally bankrolled research that lead to radar detection systems which changed the war's course.

Loomis understood science as a dominating force and used his fortune to attract and underwrite gifted practitioners who pushed the envelope of knowledge. Perhaps his life should serve as the model for a Wall Street that today, badly needs to re-invent itself.

About halfway through the book a question was raised in my mind; is this man the greatest patron of the sciences since the beginning of the industrial revolution? Conant offers an excellent portrayal of this dynamic and seemingly brillant man who excelled in every endeavor he undertook. From law to financing a significant portion of the utility industry to almost every area of physics, Loomis combined his passion, his efforts, his money and his contacts to work at the highest levels.

I was constantly amazed at how he juggled all of his demands, but kept asking why had I not heard of him before? Ulitimately it is because Loomis sought not the limelight for himself, but for the creation of new and better inventions that would serve others. Yes he has an oversized ego, but he was more concerned with creating products than receiving credit.

My one fault is that the book seemed slow in pace, yet it was still exciting. I would recommend this book to anyone with an interest in science, technology and even WWII.

Thank you Ms. Conant.

A great book.

Not knowing much about the men and women behind the scenes of WWII, this was a great journey through a man's life at the center of kick starting a process that led to the Allies gaining superior military technology just in time to have an decisive impact. One walks away wondering how much longer WWII would have lasted if not for men such as Loomis.

The book reads with ease and little is needed to introduce it beyond the book's front and back covers.

The main takeaway is that a 'tycoon' with a passion for science and a high degree of intelligence took the organizational and people skills he developed at the cutting edge of the business world during the 1920s and proceeded to spend the 1930s merging business sense with scientific curiousity into a network of relationships that, as WWII drew near, was converted into an orchestrated practical application of scientific research to modern military warfare.

I found the book less about Tuxedo Park than about a brilliant application of what is best in capitalism and democracy to overcoming threats to a free society (some from within).

At the same time, the debate as to whether autocratic methods in the name of freedom would be justified today or under slightly different conditions could be further explored. Loomis did the right thing at the right time. But could others just as easily claim the same high ground in the name of more borderline projects?

As K-12 student I detested history because of the curriculum's obsession with names and dates associated with political figures and events. In high school I looked forward to studying the technowizardry of WW-II only to be bored with names and dates of political figures and events.

If only school would teach about great movers like Alfred Loomis. Loomis is not unique in accumulating great wealth, then deploying it in support of scientific or medical research. He may be unique in having formed his self funded lab, attracting the greatest minds in physics to work there *and* sufficiently mastering the field to earn their collegial respect.

Even more compelling is how much the post WW-II world owes Loomis. His unique talent for spotting crucial trends in physics (most notably the importance of microwave radar) clearly made a difference in the war's length and quite possibly in its ultimate outcome. It's clear radar's impact was far more crucial to shortening the war and ensuring allied victory than the atomic bomb despite the latter's greater notoriety.

I would like to have learned more about Loomis' attitude about changing social trends in the 1950s such as civil rights and eventually women's rights. I say this because, despite being conservative and fiercely patriotic, he struck me as well ahead of his time and his bluest blooded neighbors in his open mindedness about individual merit.

It's sad that history educators still fail to see the importance of science and technology on the advance of civilization. They is they still obsess on political figures, dates and places. We can thank fine writers like Jennet Conant for filling in the gaps.