Meeting Dr. Einstein

When the usher was taking me to my seat he said, "You're next to the great man." "What do you mean?" I asked him. "Dr. Einstein,"

I went to the Lawrenceville School in New Jersey. It was five miles from Princeton, which happened to be the home of Dr. Albert Einstein.

In the ’50s, there were no girls at Lawrenceville, and, since we almost never got out of school except for vacations, we would not lay eyes on a girl for months at a time.

Near the end of the long, winter term of my senior year, there was a concert being given at Princeton. Seniors—called “fifth formers” at Lawrenceville—were offered the chance to go to this concert. It was a rare opportunity to get out of school for an evening and I jumped at it.

When the usher was taking me to my seat he said, “You’re next to the great man.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“Dr. Einstein,” he said. I looked and saw the unmistakable profile and halo of white hair of Dr. Albert Einstein.

When I sat down to the left of Dr. Einstein, he was busy speaking to his wife who was seated on his right. They were speaking German. I soon forgot the Einsteins, however, because, as the members of the orchestra took their places on the stage, I saw that one of the violinists was a stunning young woman with long, shining, chestnut hair, a good figure and tender, perfect red lips. Not having seen a girl for two months, I sat there lost in lustful, yearning admiration. For some reason I glanced to my right at Dr. Einstein. He was smiling with a twinkle in his eye.

“Nice, these modern symphony orchestras, ya?” he said in a thick German accent.

“Oh . . . Yes sir!” I replied. “Yes sir!”

I have always loved the fact that such a great man took a moment to understand and establish a common bond with a girl-starved teenaged boy!

The End

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