Stellafane
Village Idiot.
- Joined
- Apr 14, 2006
- Messages
- 8,368
Cold fusion -- there's a blast from the past. I didn't know anyone believed in this stuff anymore.
Seeing this thread reminds me of my micro-acquaintanceship with the late Eugene Mallove, the so-called Champion of Cold Fusion. For those unfamiliar with Dr. Mallove's work, he was to cold fusion what John Mack was to alien abductions: a highly trained scientist (MIT and Harvard) whose seemingly inexplicable support gave cold fusion claims a veneer of respectability. I first met Dr. Mallove years ago at Astronomy New England, a telescope store he ran. I have to admit, I didn't much like him at first -- I found his sales technique decidedly pushy, with a faint attitude of "Oh, I know you want that telescope mount over there, but anyone who knows anything about astronomy would buy this more expensive one here." (It was more subtle than that of course, but the vibe was definitely there.)
Nonetheless I was a semi-regular customer for a while, until we had a falling out over a telescope sale Dr. Mallove attempted to broker. The owner of the telescope I wanted to buy turned out to be something of a shady character, attempting to change the agreed-upon terms by removing some of the telescope's components, jacking up the price, etc. Finally I had enough and called Dr. Mallove to inform him the deal was off. But rather than offer sympathy, he argued that I should go through with the deal anyway! (I guess he didn't want to lose his commission.) The conversation became rather heated when I indicated I wasn't inclined to follow his advice, and we hung up on less than cordial terms. I never set foot in his store again.
I ran into Dr. Mallove several years later at the annual Stellafane amateur astronomy convention, which I was attending with my newly minted bride. Dr. Mallove was selling autographed copies of his new book (given the time frame, it was probably the one on space propulsion systems). What struck me immediately was how much more relaxed and gregarious he seemed compared to our previous meetings. We chatted a bit about Astronomy New England, he cracked a self-deprecating joke or two. As I walked away, it seemed to me that Dr. Mallove had found his true calling in life, one in which he was obviously far more comfortable and happy.
A few years later, I saw a review of Dr. Mallove's book on cold fusion in Skeptical Inquirer. The review of course was quite negative, as was the followup letter exchange between Dr. Mallove and the author of the review. At the time, I just figured it was Mallove the saleman resurfacing, trying to protect his investment in a book whose subject matter had turned sour in between the time he first started writing it and its publication. As a published author myself, I can fully sympathize with not wanting to lose out on an effort of that magnitude, so I guess I couldn't really blame him for wanting to get at least something out of his work.
Thus I was somewhat surprised when Dr. Mallove continued to support cold fusion claims in the subsequent years, quickly becoming its highest-profile champion, a very large fish in a small and rather curious pond. He continued to be an active advocate right up to his untimely death in 2004. (And yeah, I know combining "untimely" and "death" is rather cliche -- how many deaths are "timely? -- but when you get murdered while cleaning out your childhood home, that qualifies as "untimely.")
I guess one could speculate forever as to why Dr. Mallove fell so hard and so far for a claim that all his extensive training must have screamed at him was utter bogus. For me, I have to wonder if it had something to do with the old telescope saleman in him, forever trying to close the cold fusion deal long after it had become obvious to everyone else that the whole thing had already fallen through.
Seeing this thread reminds me of my micro-acquaintanceship with the late Eugene Mallove, the so-called Champion of Cold Fusion. For those unfamiliar with Dr. Mallove's work, he was to cold fusion what John Mack was to alien abductions: a highly trained scientist (MIT and Harvard) whose seemingly inexplicable support gave cold fusion claims a veneer of respectability. I first met Dr. Mallove years ago at Astronomy New England, a telescope store he ran. I have to admit, I didn't much like him at first -- I found his sales technique decidedly pushy, with a faint attitude of "Oh, I know you want that telescope mount over there, but anyone who knows anything about astronomy would buy this more expensive one here." (It was more subtle than that of course, but the vibe was definitely there.)
Nonetheless I was a semi-regular customer for a while, until we had a falling out over a telescope sale Dr. Mallove attempted to broker. The owner of the telescope I wanted to buy turned out to be something of a shady character, attempting to change the agreed-upon terms by removing some of the telescope's components, jacking up the price, etc. Finally I had enough and called Dr. Mallove to inform him the deal was off. But rather than offer sympathy, he argued that I should go through with the deal anyway! (I guess he didn't want to lose his commission.) The conversation became rather heated when I indicated I wasn't inclined to follow his advice, and we hung up on less than cordial terms. I never set foot in his store again.
I ran into Dr. Mallove several years later at the annual Stellafane amateur astronomy convention, which I was attending with my newly minted bride. Dr. Mallove was selling autographed copies of his new book (given the time frame, it was probably the one on space propulsion systems). What struck me immediately was how much more relaxed and gregarious he seemed compared to our previous meetings. We chatted a bit about Astronomy New England, he cracked a self-deprecating joke or two. As I walked away, it seemed to me that Dr. Mallove had found his true calling in life, one in which he was obviously far more comfortable and happy.
A few years later, I saw a review of Dr. Mallove's book on cold fusion in Skeptical Inquirer. The review of course was quite negative, as was the followup letter exchange between Dr. Mallove and the author of the review. At the time, I just figured it was Mallove the saleman resurfacing, trying to protect his investment in a book whose subject matter had turned sour in between the time he first started writing it and its publication. As a published author myself, I can fully sympathize with not wanting to lose out on an effort of that magnitude, so I guess I couldn't really blame him for wanting to get at least something out of his work.
Thus I was somewhat surprised when Dr. Mallove continued to support cold fusion claims in the subsequent years, quickly becoming its highest-profile champion, a very large fish in a small and rather curious pond. He continued to be an active advocate right up to his untimely death in 2004. (And yeah, I know combining "untimely" and "death" is rather cliche -- how many deaths are "timely? -- but when you get murdered while cleaning out your childhood home, that qualifies as "untimely.")
I guess one could speculate forever as to why Dr. Mallove fell so hard and so far for a claim that all his extensive training must have screamed at him was utter bogus. For me, I have to wonder if it had something to do with the old telescope saleman in him, forever trying to close the cold fusion deal long after it had become obvious to everyone else that the whole thing had already fallen through.