THE RADIOACTIVE BOY SCOUT: THE TRUE STORY OF A BOY AND HIS BACKYARD NUCLEAR REACTOR

These days, the phrase "nuclear ambitions" is applied ominously to countries or heads of state. Yet it aptly describes an ordinary teenager in suburban Detroit named David Hahn. His experience is a frightening indication of how easily dangerous materials can be acquired - and hidden.

Despite growing up in an era of no-nukes activism, David wanted nothing more than to join the Curies in the annals of atomic history. That the radium they discovered eventually killed the Curies doesn't seem to have muted his enthusiasm.

David's aptitude for science was phenomenal. From a 1960s-era book of chemistry experiments, he quickly gleaned the principles and skills of manipulating reactions, and expanded his capabilities with long hours of research at the library.

His safety record was literally stunning. Taking only the barest precautions, he remained unfazed by accidents that turned his hair green, burned his skin, or knocked him out cold. Larger blunders alarmed his father and stepmother, but he learned to cover up his failures.

At school, he was a poor student and terrible speller (the wall of his potting-shed laboratory carried the admonition: "Caushon"). His occasional claims of chemical and, later, nuclear research were dismissed by parents and teachers as attempts to get attention.

And so it was that with ingenuity and supplemental information from letters to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, 17-year-old David gathered and refined - mostly from household products - enough radioactive material to make a crude breeder reactor in his backyard.

It was small and would never create an appreciable amount of fissionable fuel, but by the time David disassembled the runaway experiment in 1994, his Geiger counter was detecting radiation from several houses away.

Journalist Ken Silverstein gathered material from extensive interviews with David and his family and from police and EPA reports about this backyard experiment. The story appeared as a Harper's Magazine article in 1998, and now Silverstein has expanded it into some 200 pages.

What emerges in that greater space is that David's pattern of grandiose plans followed by accidents and coverups mirrors the larger history of breeder reactors. In theory, breeders make more fuel than they use. In practice, as Silverstein notes, "the few attempts to build a breeder have resulted in some of the scariest episodes in the nuclear era."

Another problem that's agonizingly apparent is the emotional neglect of David by his family. His father spent time with him only on scouting trips. His adoring mother was too lost in alcohol and mental problems to be supportive. The personal tragedy here sounds as disturbing as the potential public disaster.

The Radioactive Boy Scout The True Story of a Boy and His Backyard Nuclear Reactor
By Ken Silverstein
Random House209 pp., $22.95

When I was young, we called it "Kid Engineering".

The principles of Kid Engineering are few and immutable.

1) A 20-penny nail is the strongest thing in the world.

2) It is possible to climb the tallest tree, as long as you don't run out of wood blocks and 20-penny nails.

3) If the ice supports your dog, it will support you too.

4) There is no theoretical limit of how far one can safely fall, as long as the distance is increased in one-foot increments.

5) There is no mechanical device that cannot be improved by the addition of Estes-Brand^TM model rocket engines.

There were other principles, but I have forgotten them over the years.

Something else I remember about the article. The author speaks from a strange point of view, as I recall, constantly implying that David Hahn was delusional, and that all the things he did were simply the result of his need to feed his delusion. The thing that's funny is that he (the author, Ken Silverstein) also infuses the story with dark paranoia resulting from David Hahn's success. In other words, the author tries to have it both ways, even though the evidence is absolutely clear that he can only have it one way: David Hahn is a highly motivated, driven, committed, passionate young man who did something great under very trying circumstances, as a result of (in my humble opinion) exceptional creativity, understanding of the fundamentals (and well beyond), and most of all, an unbelievable level of energy, tenacity, and constancy of purpose.

I think David Hahn should have gotten a medal from the President.

It was impossible to understand from the article whether David Hahn was actually highly gifted. The author did everything he could to make it sound like David Hahn was just "acting out" a sort of fantasy, like someone who sets aside a room in their house for a shrine to Bjork, and goes around telling people he and she are engaged, etc. The facts say otherwise. It is impossible for me to believe that David Hahn could have done these things without a great deal of pure intelligence. Actions speak louder than words, a concept anathema to Harper's and its readers.

On a personal level...

I had a Gilbert's Chemestry Set too, when I was in third grade. Not the super-big one with three hinged sections; I only got the two bay one. Remember the cobalt chloride? Remember the "deflageration spoon?"

As far as books for young scientists go, I remember these books by a guy named Morgan; they were about 50 years old when I found them in the town library. They described how to make solid and liquid fueled rockets, as well as other things. One chapter I remember well explained in great detail how to make a sail-driven ice-scooter, with sharpened steed blades made from old automotive leaf-springs. This thing was big, big enough for a boy of 10 or 12 to ride on. Extensive drawings, explainations of how to grind the springs into blades, how to make the sail, etc.

I was also heavily influenced by the marvellous "Amateur Scientist" feature in Scientific American. At that time it was "conducted" (his word) by someone named C. L. Strong. I awaited each month's issue with baited breath. Mr. Strong described projects for making several lasers (ruby, HeNe, argon, and CO2), a particle accelerator using a home-made Van Der Graff generator, an infrared specrometer, a gas chromatograph using laundry detergent as a column fill medium, an electrostatic motor powered by an antenna flown from a helium balloon, a supersonic wind tunnel made from a vacuum pump and an old hot water heater tank, along with a Schleren camera for imaging the shock waves that developed around objects positioned in its throat region, and many, many other fascinating projects. I duplicated several of the (less ambitious ones). In those days (mid '60s through early '70's), Scientific American was a fantastic magazine, nothing like the silly left-wing pseudo-magazine it had degenerated into.

Today I am an Electrical Engineer, with a masters degree. I write pattern recognition algorithms for machine vision. I have three patents, with more on the way (if I can find money to pay attorney's fees). My "laboratory" is almost entirely contained in personal computers, which are one of the wonders of our age. I often say that if Leonardo da Vinci or Ben Franklen, or Humphrey Davy were alive today and could see the tools we have to work with, they would say "why aren't you rich?" As, of course, even the poorest of we Americans are, relatively speaking.

(steely)

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