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tiinj: bv 1 ion cl S. Reiss
PROFESSOR ALBERT EINSTEIN
A n ELDERLY couple, attended by a porter,
stood on the platform at North Phila
delphia Station and watched the electric
train bound for Trenton, Newark and New
York thunder up. The woman wore a green
suit trimmed with bands of mink, but it was
not buttoned, and her rather battered hat was
somewhat askew. The man’s hat was black,
wide brimmed and below it his gray hair curled
up in tight little ringlets, suggesting somewhat
the late Wiliam Jennings Bryan.
1 hey followed the porter into a day coach
and draped themselves over a huge square bag
marked in big, black letters, "A. E.” which
bad been put at their feet.
Pardon me,” said a gentleman in a derby,
aren’t you Herr Prof. Einstein?”
I he man with the curls looked blank, tugged
1 bis wife’s sleeve. She rose to the occasion.
Mo. oh. no. He is not Prof. Einstein. My
husband speaks no English!”
Hisgruntled. the man with the derby with-
to the smoking car and I sat looking at
famous couple. There was no doubt who
were nor even where they were coming
1 he wires had just been singing out
act that they had been to see the President
t m Washington.
hev were giggling now in high good hu-
talking in rapid German but low, break-
at into little laughs, as roguish children
when they have just put something over
their parents.
1 aned over, addressed myself to Mrs. Ein-
Did you like the President, Mrs. Ein-
I asked.
was startled, but she smiled. "But I
Mrs. Einstein!” she said.
course, you know best,” I smiled back,
' you’re not, you're her twin sister!”
smiled again. "Verstehen?” she asked
pert mathematician in German, to see if
■ ht ' understood.
I es, he nodded and laughed.
hat makes you think we have been to
e President?” she countered.
agents informed me,” I suggested and
but you didn’t like the President?”
The Roguish Einsteins
A Famous Couple in an Informal Tete-a-Tete
By Vivian Shirley
In this whimsical interview With Mr. and Mrs. Albert
Einstein. Miss Shirley of the staff of the Philadelphia
Evening Public Ledger reveals a new side of the dis
tinguished scientist and his frau.
Oh, but we did, she protested. Tie was
wonderful. He is a wonderful man.”
"He is wonderful,” pronounced Herr Pro
fessor solemnly.
"He is so sincere, is that what you say?”
Mrs. Einstein proceeded. "He is informal; he
is a leader. I have never met any one like him;
he is different ...”
"He is wonderful,” put in Prof. Einstein
again. Then feminine curiosity overcame Frau
Einstein.
"But did you recognize him or me?” she
asked, looking at her husband.
"You,” I said gallantly.
"Ach!” she exclaimed. "See that?” and she
laughed like a schoolgirl.
Then she turned. "I said he was not Herr
Prof. Einstein,” she said, "because when he
travels he is not the Herr Professor. He is just
a plain man then, so we can have our privacy.
It is funny to be stared at. People surround
him and stare at him, say nothing, just stare.
It is a funny feeling, but the country itself, the
United States, it is kind? And the President—
Ach!”
"He’s a grand guy!” I said.
"Oh!” Prof. Einstein pricked up his ears.
"Guy, what is that, French?”
"Slang,” I explained. "It means fellow
man, person.”
"Oh, yes,” he nodded. "He’s a wonderful
guy!” and he smiled joyously.
"Did you by any chance talk about the new
emergency education program? I asked.
Mrs. Einstein looked at her famous hus
band. "Yes, we did,” he said. I was amazed
at his good English. "He talked of the chil
dren who would attend these schools. But
where will they come from? Are the children
not in the schools already?”
"Perhaps he was referring to the nursery
school group,” I said; "children between 2 and
4. There are adult schools and vocational
schools in the same program,” I said.
"Verstehen?” put in Mrs. Einstein.
He nodded quickly. “And where does the
money come from? he asked.
"The unemployed teachers who are used
will be paid by Federal Relief Funds and the
workers by CWA, I said.
"Oh, yes,” he nodded. “It is a great work
this President is doing.”
"But he is not going to teach them higher
mathematics,” I added.
No, nodded the professor. "That is only
for trained minds.”
"Personally I had a terrible time myself. I
used to have to memorize all the formulas,”
I said.
He looked pained. "It is no good if you
have to memorize. That is not the idea. You
must work the things out for yourself. These
American students cannot study from a book,
I notice, that is, not many of them can. They
must have each problem explained to them by
the teacher. That is slow work.
"Mathematics requires a certain sort of train
ing and a trained mind as well.”
Well, I guess, I'll have to leave that to the
men,” I said. "Women are not meant to be
mathematicians anyway, I guess.”
Mrs. Einstein nodded, but he startled me by
turning abruptly. "Ah, no, you are wrong.
T wo of the most brilliant mathematicians I
know are women. They had the training and
the mind for it.”
"It must be fun to travel about incognito,”
1 suggested. "Like the good Caliph Harun-al-
Rashid in the days of old!”
Mrs. Einstein looked blank, but Herr Pro
fessor broke out in a hearty laugh.
"That is so,” he laughed. "He used to go
about in Bagdad and hear what the people said
of him, good or bad. But I shall not ask them
what they think of Einstein,” he chortled and
fell silent.
I wondered how long ago he had read the
legends. It was intriguing to think that his
great mind could forget dynamic theories of
space at times and find interest in the glamorous
stories of Caliphs and Princesses.
"I hope we will not have to wait for a train
at Trenton,” put in Mrs. Einstein. She, I could
tell, is the practical member of that household.
"La&t time I had a car meet us at Trenton
to take us to Princeton, but I did not do that
this time because I was not sure what train we
would get.”
"It will be all right,” murmured the great
Einstein. I consulted a time-table; they would
have to wait nine minutes.
"That is not long,” she was relieved, “and
now—” she said something. It sounded to me
as if she were telling her famous husband to
look dumb while he reached for her coat.
He helped her on with it and handed her
her bursting pocket-book.
She held out her hand to me, a slim, pretty
hand like a girl’s.
"Auf Wiedersehen,” she said, and Herr Pro
fessor then stuck out his, soft, well groomed,
the hand of a musician, you’d say.
"Auf Wiedersehen,” I echoed, and Mrs. Ein
stein trotted ahead, while Prof. Einstein
brought up the rear, lugging the heavy square
bag on which the black initials A. E. stood
boldly out.
OUTHERN ISRAELITE ★
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