Scandal in the Secret City (5 page)

BOOK: Scandal in the Secret City
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Charlie continued, ‘This is where the electromagnetic isotope separation of the tube alloy takes place. The raw material is heated up and vaporized; the vapor rises, passes through an ionizing process and gets an electrical charge. Then it goes through a slit in the vacuum and the magnetic field makes it arc as it curves sending the heavier material in a bigger radius and into one receiver and the lighter material into another.’

While Charlie spoke, I translated the code in my head. The heavier material is Uranium 238. It is separated from the light Uranium 235, the product they needed.

‘This single unit has gaps for ninety-six tanks, which sounds mind-boggling. But if you just think of it as a massive mass spectrometer, it makes a lot of sense,’ he continued. ‘Both it and the Calutron achieve acceleration using electrical fields, both use magnetic forces to separate isotopic ion species, both operate in a vacuum and both have ion sources and collectors. The main distinction between the two is that we use the spectrometer for detection and analysis. We use the Calutron for production.’

‘So, technically, we could do the work of the Calutron with our spectrometer in the lab?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie answered. ‘But the quantities produced would be exceedingly small and reaching our production goals would be impossible.’

‘What’s the ratio of the heavier and lighter materials in the original?’

‘For every one thousand pounds of the original ore that we send through the process, we should get seven pounds of the needed lighter substance. The separation is based on a simple principle and what it does is vital and priceless for the war effort. But even if this piece of machinery was useless, it would have an incredibly high value – far more than the engineers envisioned in the original design. The specifications called for electromagnets wrapped in copper coil. When that requisition was submitted, it was rejected in record time. All the copper available was tied up in the production of munitions for the military.

‘It was difficult for the engineers to get the army brass to understand that they couldn’t just cobble together the electromagnets with anything that might be on hand. Eventually, the officers accepted that the laws of physics trumped military desires every time. So, General Groves got Roosevelt to raid the US Treasury and deliver 14,700 tons of silver coin to melt down and use it to wrap the coils.’

‘Nearly 300,000 pounds? That’s one seriously expensive piece of equipment.’

‘It certainly is. The vacuum pumps are downstairs but not much to look at. Let’s go upstairs where we have the monitors and controls,’ he said. I followed him into an area filled with a series of panels covered with levers, dials and meters. ‘The Calutron is a very temperamental piece of equipment requiring constant supervision. At the moment, we’ve got PhDs running this equipment – just like they do in California with the cyclotron. That’s going to change. For one, the PhDs are always slowing down the works trying to figure out the why of everything. For another, there is simply not a large pool of available doctorates to man these controls once we go into full production.

‘When this gets rolling, women with high-school educations but no real background in science will sit in these stools, monitoring the meters around the clock They will know the parameters of acceptability, however, they will not know they are monitoring the balance between the electrical and the magnetic forces. They will know which levers to switch or dials to turn with each variance in the readings but will have no idea of how their actions are impacting the equation. They will simply know that they have done the right thing when the meter readings have stabilized. We will not explain anything to them other than to say that they’re making a catalyst that will be vital to the war effort. You must always remember not to provide those employees with any additional information, no matter how innocent a question might sound. The less they know, the safer we all are – the whole country is.

‘Follow me this way,’ Charlie said, ‘we’re going across the catwalk. Can you feel the magnetic field pulling on the nails in your shoes?’

Abashed, I looked down at my feet and felt the warmth of a blush rising into my cheeks. ‘Well …’

‘Oh, right. Forgot you learned about the mud today,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, it feels as if you have glue on the soles of your feet. And that is why I had you remove your watch. The magnetic field will yank the steel parts inside out of their positions and smash the inner workings to bits.’

The next morning, I arrived at the main building, joining a gaggle of other employees, mostly women, for orientation. ‘Most of you here will be Calutron Girls,’ the man intoned from the front of the room. ‘Today is the last day you will wear hair pins. The machines you will be operating will pull them right out of your hair and stick them like glue to the nearest metal surface. It could be a little painful. So leave them in your rooms. If you want to keep your long hair, a snood or head scarf will be required on the floor.

‘You are the first of many coming here to help win the war. Everything is more primitive than it will be in the near future. Roane-Anderson, that’s the company who administers our little community, announced that the first drug store is opening later this week and the first grocery store days after that. By mid-month, we’ll have a post office. By the end of the month, we hope to open the movie theaters. And we have much more planned in the fall – bowling alleys, a bank, a newspaper and you’ll be happy to hear, ladies, in a little more than a month, our first beauty salon will open. So if you’re ready for a shorter cut, we’ll have beauticians trained in the latest styles ready to make you beautiful.

‘You are our pioneers. We will train you and you will help train others. We cannot tell you what you are going to do, but we can tell you how to do it and we can only tell you that if our enemies achieve what we are attempting before we do, God help us!

‘Always remember this: what you do here, what you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here. The enemy is looking for information – guard your tongue. Don’t be fooled by tricky characters. Your country is depending on you.’

After my stint in Rochester, I wasn’t at all surprised by this high security talk, but looking around the room, I saw an ocean of gaping mouths and eyes as wide as Thanksgiving pies. By the time the session was over, though, every one of them stood a little taller and looked a little prouder. Obviously the atmosphere of secrecy was enough to convince them all that what they were doing was vital to the war effort – what they accomplished would bring their brothers, fathers and friends home from the front.

FIVE

I
worked long hours at Charlie Morton’s side, selecting the equipment and supplies needed for our laboratory. At last, we were ready to analyze samples provided from test runs of the Calutron as the engineers worked out the glitches. It didn’t seem like there was much to do and yet it swallowed up ten, twelve, sometimes fourteen hours a day, six days of every week. The overwhelming sense of urgency at Y-12 was so keen; at times, I thought I could smell it in the air the moment I stepped inside the building to start a new day.

We broke for hurried meals in the cafeteria. Charlie Morton kept up an encouraging spiel throughout our meals, constantly offering me assurances that as soon as the process was up and operating smoothly, we would have time to relax. As occupied as I was with work, I hadn’t noticed the swelling population of women pouring into the Calutron area, replacing scientists at the controls until there was hardly a PhD on the floor.

I had, however, noticed that every time I went back to the dorm to sleep, there were newcomers. It seemed as if legions of additional women were roaming the halls every evening – not that I had any time to socialize with them.

I met Ruth in mid-August. Returning to my room, I discovered the amount of furniture in my space had doubled in my absence and a woman I’d never seen before stood between the beds. She was rail thin with tawny brown hair. She turned toward me and said, ‘Hi there. You must be my roommate. I’m Ruth Nance from Lynchburg, Tennessee. Pleased to make your acquaintance.’

‘Hi Ruth. I’m Elizabeth Clark.’

‘My good friends call me Ruthie. Considering we’ll be living in this little room as close as a large flock of fat hens in a small chicken coop, you might as well start out calling me that, too.’

‘Ruthie, it is. My given name is Elizabeth, but Libby is actually what friends call me.’

‘Good. Now Libby, I hope you’re fixin’ to tell me a bit about yourself ’cause no one else in the building seems to know a thing about you.’

‘You talked to other people about me?’

‘I’ve been here for hours with no sign of hide nor hair of you. So I’ve been asking questions but not getting many answers. All I learned is that you’re never here. Where y’all from?’

‘I was born on a farm in Virginia but then later went to Philadelphia to live with my aunt after my father died,’ I said, surprised when that little bit of information popped out of my mouth. What was it about this woman that had already broken past my normal reticence to discuss anything personal?

‘You poor thing. An orphan? Or is your mamma still alive?’

‘Yes, she is. She …’

‘My pa died, too. Ma’s never been the same. Life’s been hard on her these last ten years. That’s why I came here, so I could make enough money to send some home to help her out. How old were you when your pa died?’

‘Ten,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

‘I was twelve. Did you have any sisters or brothers?’

‘I had a younger brother but he died in the same fire that killed my dad. Now, I have a half-brother.’

‘Your pa and your brother at the same time? That’s awful. But my ma never remarried. And I was the oldest when Pa died but Ma was carrying a new baby that was born three months after he was gone. I also have a sister Irene – she’s two years younger than me and a brother Hank, two years younger than her. Little Frankie – he’s ten years old now – he was a big surprise to all of us. And soon, he’ll be the only one at home. Hank’s about to turn eighteen and as soon as he does, he’s signing up. All he can think about is fighting in the war. And Irene works here, too.

‘After Pa died, Ma pretty much had her hands full with the baby coming along and all her grieving. I pretty much had to take charge with Irene – that girl was running wild. Even at ten years old, she was too pretty for her own good. She’s a good girl but there have always been a lot of boys – and men – ready to take advantage of her. And she was an easy mark. She never met a person she didn’t like. And ever since she started school, all she could talk about was movin’ out of the sticks. I figured any fella promisin’ to make that dream come true, could get her to do most anything.

‘So I kept a close eye on her, but like I said, she really is a good girl. She listened to me real good back home. But here, it’s gettin’ harder every day. Wish my two big brothers were still around.’

Did I hear her wrong? ‘Older brothers? I thought you said you were the oldest when your father died?’

‘Well I was then, but my parents had two sons who died when they were babies.’

‘How horrible!’

‘It was for Ma and Pa but I never knew them. I hadn’t been born yet when they caught that influenza after the Great War.’

‘That was an awful time. My parents lost a baby then, too.’

‘Guess we’re lucky we weren’t around yet – might not be here to talk about it if we were.’

I reached out and squeezed Ruth’s hand. She threw an arm around me, enveloping me in a tight hug. When we broke away, Ruth wiped a tear from one eye and said, ‘Well, where do ya work here?’

‘In Y-12 …’

‘Really, well I be. I’d figured ya weren’t one of us Calutron girls on accounta nobody on any shift can ever remember seeing you at work. I guess I was wrong.’

‘No. Not at all. I’m not a Calutron girl. I—’

‘Are you a secretary?’

‘No, I—’

‘A cafeteria worker?’

‘No, I—’

‘Post Office?’

‘No, I—’

‘Well, what do you do, Libby Clark?’

‘I’ve been hired as a chemist.’

‘A chemist?’

‘Yes, you know, a scientist.’

‘I know what a chemist is, Libby. What I don’t know is: how did you manage that?’

‘I went to college—’

‘Really. I know that it’s possible. But personally I never did know of any woman who did that. Were there a lot of women there?’

‘I went to Bryn Mawr, a college just for women.’

‘You’re kidding me. They have colleges just for women? My word, I never heard of such a thing. And you got a degree there?’

‘Yes, I—’

‘In chemistry?’

‘Yes, and in physics.’

‘So you’re a smart one.’

‘Well, I do have some education—’

‘Don’t be modest, Libby. You’re smart. And, you,’ she said, poking my chest with her index finger, ‘you are the future for women. Makes me proud to know you. Maybe I’ll get a little smarter, rooming with you.’

‘I wouldn’t—’

‘Could happen. You might teach me how to use what brain I do have – that’d make me smarter.’

‘I guess that’s—’

‘Did you know that Tennessee is the state that gave women the right to vote?’

‘Tennessee?’

‘Yessiree. Right here in Tennessee. We are the state that put the amendment over the top and made it law.’

‘That’s right. My Aunt Dorothy told me about that once.’

‘Well. Before everybody starts going to bed, it’s time you met some of your neighbors.’

‘But, I—’

‘Never you mind. We’re all girls here. You don’t have to comb your hair or fix your lipstick or put on a fresh dress. It’s just come as you are,’ Ruth said, sliding her arm through mine. ‘Let’s go.’

Out in the hallway, Ruth announced in a big, booming voice, ‘Look y’all, my roommate came home at last.’

Immediately, Ruth was surrounded by a swarm of women. She seemed to know everyone’s name and each one of them treated her like a long-lost friend even though they’d met her for the first time that day. Initially, they were treating me the same way. I had no illusions that I’d suddenly become that captivating. I knew it was because of Ruth, not on my own merits. The truth of that conclusion became obvious once my new roommate told the others I was a scientist. They all seemed to shrink back like one amorphous mass at the sound of the word. One even snapped, ‘Well, I guess you’re smarter than the rest of us. I hope you don’t rub our noses in that every day.’

Before I could respond, Ruth jumped to my defense. ‘Libby ain’t no snobby Yankee. She was raised on a farm in Virginia. She can milk cows and slop hogs. She’s one of us.’

‘She’s a scientist, Ruth. Don’t kid yourself. She’s only with us because she has no choice.’

‘And there’s something not natural about a career woman,’ another woman chimed in.

‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘All of us are just doing our part for the war. When the men come back home, all we want to do is get married and have babies. What about her?’

‘Land’s sakes! Libby is a woman, too,’ Ruth said. ‘She can’t wait to get married and have babies.’

I started to object to that statement but felt a sharp pinch on my upper arm as Ruth hustled me into the stairwell. ‘Now, what were you going to say?’ she asked.

‘I doubt if I’ll ever get married or have babies, Ruthie.’

‘You’re just saying that ’cause you haven’t met the right fella yet.’

‘No, Ruthie, I—’

‘Never you mind, Libby, I won’t say that again. It doesn’t matter. C’mon, I’ve got more girls you need to meet.’

On each floor, the same scene repeated itself. Ruth, already beloved and me quickly scorned. I was surprised that none of the negative reactions of the other girls seemed to affect Ruth’s attitude at all. She continued to treat me like a prized trophy, presenting me to one and all with pride. When we got back to the room, Ruth said, ‘See, I am the only girl with a scientist for a roommate. Ha! None of them can top that.’

‘But, Ruthie, they don’t like me,’ I objected.

‘Pshaw, they’re just all green with envy.’

Over the following weeks, Ruth’s loyalty and commitment to our friendship never wavered, no matter what anyone said. Her constant refrain became an admonishment that we needed to spend time having fun together. She kept saying, ‘Girl, you need to stop workin’ so darned hard. I finally gave in to her urging and the two of us went to see the first movie airing in the new theatre. It was a British film, Noel Coward’s
In Which We Serve
, a dramatic recounting of the Battle of Crete in 1941, aboard the ship of the HMS
Torrin
.

By mid-September, our dormitory was overflowing. Many girls had three to a room. We breathed a sigh of relief after each new group of arrivals settled in and we realized they wouldn’t have to cram one more person in our space.

In October, an influx of additional Eastman Kodak scientists flooded into the laboratories. I searched the incoming in vain for just one more female face. Not a single woman in the whole lot.

My male colleagues were friendly enough for the most part and I recognized more than a few faces were familiar from Rochester, but a lot of those men grew suspicious when they learned that I had arrived two months ahead of the rest of them. Once again, there were frequent instances when conversations halted when I walked into a room and I overheard many snide remarks when I walked away. Four years at a women’s college had its downside: it didn’t prepare me for the real world where the backward attitudes of men were in plentiful supply.

The male scientists had no ulterior motives to be friendly to me, either. There were plenty of women around; they outnumbered the men with ease. Those young chemists, no matter how low they were on the totem pole, had no problem getting dates with Calutron girls, secretaries and other gals working here. I treated them all like peers but they could count on being admired and placed on a pedestal by the others. All I had to offer was a definite step backward in status. I accepted that many of them would be threatened by an equal, but I certainly didn’t like it.

Still, I was excited when the Shangri La Club of Bachelors announced their first soiree – a Sadie Hawkins dance, where girls asked the guys to dance – on October 30. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be the first name listed on anyone’s dance card. But I also knew I’d be a star on the dance floor if I could get the music away from the slow dances and into some jitterbug. So I taught a willing Ruth the basics and she was a natural. By the time the dance rolled around, she was eager to try out her newfound skills. I packed up my records and dance shoes and we slogged in our galoshes over to the cafeteria. I expected to see the dining tables moved out of the way but didn’t think I’d see any other changes. I was wrong – streamers and bunting were everywhere, brightening up the boring place considerably.

We abandoned our boots at the doorway, slipping into our party shoes. We stood on the sidelines for a while, observing other dancers. Then Ruth took the records up to the turntable where a surprised scientist from New York was delighted to learn that a Tennessee girl actually had a clue about the latest dance moves. He quickly put one on, grabbed Ruth’s hand and headed to the dance floor.

I wrapped my fingers around the nearest male hand I saw and took my place beside them. At first no one was paying much attention. I knew how to remedy that. I dropped into a split and a beat later was back on my feet. I heard a smattering of nearby applause and, in a short time, every imported Yankee male who knew the Lindy Hop or any one of its variations was standing in line for a turn to dance with me or Ruth. We wore them out one by one. I went to bed exhausted and exhilarated.

The next Monday morning in the lab, I saw the effect of that night out on the men in the lab; they were much friendlier. You wouldn’t believe the number of invitations I got for the next dance. But I wouldn’t commit to anyone. I told them all that I’d be there and be sure to save him a dance but was not about to spend a whole evening with one partner; variety was much more fun. It also minimized the possibility of anyone thinking that I had romance on my mind. Jitterbug was a true gender equalizer and a great way to blow off steam, make friends and get exercise. It’s hard to get serious about anything when you’re not standing still.

BOOK: Scandal in the Secret City
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