A Beautiful Mind Part 12

A day or two before the police picked Nash up, Nash showed up on campus covered with scratches. "Johann von Na.s.sau has been a bad boy," he said, visibly terrified. "They're going to come and get me now."35

CHAPTER 40

Tower of Silence Trenton State Hospital, 1961 Trenton State Hospital, 1961

Reposing in the midst of the most beautiful scenery in the valley of the Delaware, combining all the influences which human art and skill can command to bless, soothe, and restore the wandering intellects that are gathered in its bosom.

- First annual report of the New Jersey State Lunatic Asylum, 1848 First annual report of the New Jersey State Lunatic Asylum, 1848

I'm as if left to rot in a "Tower of Silence," with anti-Promethean vultures gnawing away at my vitals.

- JOHN N NASH, 1967

AT THE END OF J JANUARY, ten months after Nash's return from Paris, a much-aged Virginia Nash and her daughter Martha boarded a train in Roanoke and traveled north all day, arriving in Princeton in the late afternoon. ten months after Nash's return from Paris, a much-aged Virginia Nash and her daughter Martha boarded a train in Roanoke and traveled north all day, arriving in Princeton in the late afternoon.1 The last time they had made this trip together was a decade earlier, to attend Johnny's graduation, and the contrast between that trip and the present one was much on their minds. As they disembarked, tearful and weary, John Milnor, now a full professor in the Princeton mathematics department, was waiting for them. It was nearly dark and already snowing lightly. After a few awkward exchanges, Milnor showed them his car, turned over the keys, and gave them directions to West Trenton. The last time they had made this trip together was a decade earlier, to attend Johnny's graduation, and the contrast between that trip and the present one was much on their minds. As they disembarked, tearful and weary, John Milnor, now a full professor in the Princeton mathematics department, was waiting for them. It was nearly dark and already snowing lightly. After a few awkward exchanges, Milnor showed them his car, turned over the keys, and gave them directions to West Trenton.

Martha took the wheel and the two women drove in silence down Route 1, the car slipping and sliding on the thin layer of slick ice that now covered the road. They were almost thankful for the distraction. They dreaded what lay ahead. Johnny was already at the Trenton State Hospital. He had been picked up earlier in the day by the police, taken first to Princeton Hospital, a small general hospital, and then transported by ambulance to Trenton State. Now they were going down to talk to the doctors, sign the necessary forms, and, if possible, see Johnny. They would see Alicia, at whose apartment they were staying, afterward.

Full of doubt and self-reproach, they felt they had little choice but to accede to another commitment. Whatever hope they had that Johnny's settling in Princeton, in familiar surroundings and among old mathematical acquaintances, would bring about some improvement in his condition had been shattered weeks before. Alicia's telephone calls had become increasingly frantic. The psychiatrist whom Alicia had been in touch with had tried, without success, to convince Johnny to go into the hospital on his own. Johnny had been dead set against the idea. Finally, the three women had agreed among themselves that there was no other way. He would have to go. would bring about some improvement in his condition had been shattered weeks before. Alicia's telephone calls had become increasingly frantic. The psychiatrist whom Alicia had been in touch with had tried, without success, to convince Johnny to go into the hospital on his own. Johnny had been dead set against the idea. Finally, the three women had agreed among themselves that there was no other way. He would have to go.

And this time it wouldn't be to a private hospital. As Martha recalled in 1995: "At first, we had thought that thirty days at McLean would straighten him out. By then we knew there were no short-term answers. We were concerned that John's illness would eat into Mother's capital and that she couldn't afford a private hospital."2 In the moonlight and freshly fallen snow, the gray stone building, with its white marble dome and tall columns, set atop a gentle wooded slope, looked rea.s.suringly solid and respectable. Inst.i.tutions like the Trenton State Hospital owed their existence to the same mid-nineteenth-century reform movements that opposed slavery and advanced women's suffrage.3 Many, in fact, owed their existence to the efforts of Dorothea Dix, a fiery, single-minded Unitarian who made the appalling plight of the insane - condemned to almshouses, prisons, and the streets - her life's crusade. Many, in fact, owed their existence to the efforts of Dorothea Dix, a fiery, single-minded Unitarian who made the appalling plight of the insane - condemned to almshouses, prisons, and the streets - her life's crusade.4 When she was old, ill, and penniless, Dix lived on the ground floor of Trenton's administration building in an apartment set aside for her by the trustees of Trenton State until her death in 1887. When she was old, ill, and penniless, Dix lived on the ground floor of Trenton's administration building in an apartment set aside for her by the trustees of Trenton State until her death in 1887.

Like all such inst.i.tutions, Trenton hardly evolved as its founder antic.i.p.ated. In particular, it was soon overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people who sought - or whose families sought on their behalf - shelter there. During World War II, Trenton State, long since expanded from a single large building into a large complex, had an average of four thousand patients.5 The census dropped sharply after the war, but was rising rapidly in the late 1950s. By 1961, there were nearly twenty-five hundred patients, ten times as many as at a private hospital like McLean. Staffing was minimal, and consisted mostly of young foreign residents. The six hundred patients in the so-called West hospital, for example, were cared for by six psychiatrists; the five hundred chronic patients in the annex - predominantly senile or epileptic - were cared for by just one doctor. The presence of a large number of chronic patients obscured the fact that most patients who came to Trenton stayed a relatively short time, perhaps three months. The census dropped sharply after the war, but was rising rapidly in the late 1950s. By 1961, there were nearly twenty-five hundred patients, ten times as many as at a private hospital like McLean. Staffing was minimal, and consisted mostly of young foreign residents. The six hundred patients in the so-called West hospital, for example, were cared for by six psychiatrists; the five hundred chronic patients in the annex - predominantly senile or epileptic - were cared for by just one doctor. The presence of a large number of chronic patients obscured the fact that most patients who came to Trenton stayed a relatively short time, perhaps three months.

"You really were not close to patients," said Dr. Peter Baumecker, who worked at both the hospital's insulin unit and the rehabilitation ward during Nash's stay. The poorest and sickest patients wound up at Trenton. "I remember very few patients specifically," Baumecker said. "There was one patient who gouged out the eye of another. There was another patient who'd lost his eye when the police beat him up after he'd killed his father. But that was very exceptional."6 "There were good wards and bad wards. Trenton was not as plush as other places. As a matter of fact, Trenton was pretty crummy," recalled Baumecker in 1995. "But I remember a lot of warmth, a lot of caring. We helped an awful lot of people." places. As a matter of fact, Trenton was pretty crummy," recalled Baumecker in 1995. "But I remember a lot of warmth, a lot of caring. We helped an awful lot of people."7 Later Nash would recall, with great bitterness, the fact that he was a.s.signed a serial number at Trenton, as if he were an inmate of a prison.8 To occupy a room shared by thirty or forty others, to be forced to wear clothes that are not your own, to have no place, not even a locker, for your things, even your own soap or shaving cream, is an experience that few people can imagine. Yet this is how Nash - a man who craved, because of his nature and the nature of his illness, solitude and mobility - lived for the next six months, surrounded by strangers. If he had dreaded military duty, what must this have been like for him? To occupy a room shared by thirty or forty others, to be forced to wear clothes that are not your own, to have no place, not even a locker, for your things, even your own soap or shaving cream, is an experience that few people can imagine. Yet this is how Nash - a man who craved, because of his nature and the nature of his illness, solitude and mobility - lived for the next six months, surrounded by strangers. If he had dreaded military duty, what must this have been like for him?

Nash would have been brought to Payton One, the men's admitting ward, on the ground floor of Payton, off to the right of the main administration building. Baumecker was in charge of admissions then and conducted the initial interview. "Nash was my patient," said Baumecker. "He didn't like me because my name started with a B' B' He had something against the letter He had something against the letter B B."9 The admission interview took place in a small admitting room that had a cot, a couple of chairs, a desk, and a small window. Baumecker asked Nash the usual questions, such as "Do you hear voices?" He tried to find out whether Nash had delusions and whether they were elaborate. He watched his expressions to see whether the emotions he showed were appropriate to what he was saying. The hijacking of a Portuguese ocean liner, the Santa Maria, Santa Maria, off Caracas that week - and the subsequent efforts of the hijackers, who turned out to be anti-Salazar rebels, to obtain asylum in Brazil - was, it seemed, very much on Nash's mind; he had his own private theory about it. off Caracas that week - and the subsequent efforts of the hijackers, who turned out to be anti-Salazar rebels, to obtain asylum in Brazil - was, it seemed, very much on Nash's mind; he had his own private theory about it.10 The following morning, Nash's "case" was presented to the staff, and he was interviewed in the dormitory before a group of residents. That was when the preliminary diagnosis was reached, treatment was decided upon, and he was a.s.signed a psychiatrist.

One wound up in Trenton if one had no money or insurance, or was too sick for a private inst.i.tution to handle. The decision to commit Nash to an overcrowded, underfunded, and understaffed state inst.i.tution seems puzzling in retrospect. Alicia had at least some insurance coverage through her position at RCA, and Virginia, although by now worried that her son's treatment would eat into her capital, was surely able to pay for some private care. Martha and Virginia certainly had their misgivings: "We went down to talk to them, to beg them to put a red flag on the case and pay special attention to John. It was the only state hospital that John ever stayed in."11 John Danskin recalled: I had heard he was in Trenton. I called his family and said, for G.o.d's sake, do something. I drove down to Trenton State. I wanted to find out what the h.e.l.l happened. I was shocked. It wasn't brutal but he was being treated rather roughly. The attendant kept calling him Johnny.

I told the people there: "This is the legendary John Nash." He was all right too. He gave me no sign at all of being out of his mind. I kept thinking, my G.o.d, these shrinks! Who's going to figure out what's wrong with a genius? I resented them.12

News that Nash had been committed to a state hospital spread quickly around Princeton. One person deeply disturbed by the notion that a genius like Nash was incarcerated at a state hospital, notorious for its overcrowding and aggressive medical treatments - including drugs, electroshock, and insulin coma therapy - was Robert Winters.13 Winters, a Harvard-trained economist who happened to be the business manager of the physics department at the time, was friendly with both Al Tucker and Don Spencer. Winters contacted Joseph Tobin, the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study's psychiatric consultant and director of the Neuro-Psychiatric Inst.i.tute in Hopewell, which is a few miles from Princeton, calling him in late January to say, "It is in the national interest that everything possible be done to bring Professor Nash back to his original productive self." Winters, a Harvard-trained economist who happened to be the business manager of the physics department at the time, was friendly with both Al Tucker and Don Spencer. Winters contacted Joseph Tobin, the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study's psychiatric consultant and director of the Neuro-Psychiatric Inst.i.tute in Hopewell, which is a few miles from Princeton, calling him in late January to say, "It is in the national interest that everything possible be done to bring Professor Nash back to his original productive self."14 Tobin suggested that Winters contact Harold Magee, Trenton's medical director at the time. Winters did so and won an a.s.surance from Magee, as he later wrote to Tobin, that "there would be a thorough study of Dr. Nash's condition before any treatment was started at the state hospital." Tobin suggested that Winters contact Harold Magee, Trenton's medical director at the time. Winters did so and won an a.s.surance from Magee, as he later wrote to Tobin, that "there would be a thorough study of Dr. Nash's condition before any treatment was started at the state hospital."15 In truth, this was too much to expect. As Seymour Krim, a beat writer in New York, wrote in 1959 in his essay "The Insanity Bit" about his own experiences in mental hospitals, that work "in a flip factory is determined by mathematics; you must find the common denominator of categorization and treatment in order to handle the battalions of miscellaneous humanity that are marched past your desk with high trumpets blowing in their minds."16 Very soon after that a.s.surance was given, or perhaps even before, Nash was transferred from Payton to Dix One, the insulin unit.17 Ehrlich, the psychiatrist at Princeton Hospital who had recommended Trenton, was convinced that Nash would benefit from the treatments available at Trenton. Ehrlich, the psychiatrist at Princeton Hospital who had recommended Trenton, was convinced that Nash would benefit from the treatments available at Trenton.18 Whether Alicia, Virginia, or Martha gave explicit consent for insulin coma therapy is not clear. "I don't remember whether the family had to give further permissions beyond the commitment," Baumecker recalled. "In those days you could do just about anything without asking anybody." Whether Alicia, Virginia, or Martha gave explicit consent for insulin coma therapy is not clear. "I don't remember whether the family had to give further permissions beyond the commitment," Baumecker recalled. "In those days you could do just about anything without asking anybody."19 Martha recalled that she was consulted: "That was a drastic decision. We were extra wary of anything that might affect his mental abilities. We discussed this with doctors." Martha recalled that she was consulted: "That was a drastic decision. We were extra wary of anything that might affect his mental abilities. We discussed this with doctors."20 The insulin unit was the most elite unit within Trenton State Hospital.21 The The unit had two separate wards - one with twenty-two male beds, the other with twenty-two female beds. unit had two separate wards - one with twenty-two male beds, the other with twenty-two female beds.22 Danskin later described it as looking like "the inside of the Lincoln Tunnel." Danskin later described it as looking like "the inside of the Lincoln Tunnel."23 Its chief had the eye and ear of the hospital's directors. It had the most doctors, the best nurses, the nicest furnis.h.i.+ngs. Only patients who were young and in good health were sent there. Patients on the insulin unit had special diets, special treatment, special recreation. "All the best of what the hospital had to offer was showered on them," said Robert Garber, who was a staff psychiatrist at Trenton in the early 1940s and later president of the American Psychiatric a.s.sociation. He said, "The insulin patients got a h.e.l.l of a lot of TLC. In the family's eyes, insulin had great appeal. Patients' relatives were overwhelmed." Its chief had the eye and ear of the hospital's directors. It had the most doctors, the best nurses, the nicest furnis.h.i.+ngs. Only patients who were young and in good health were sent there. Patients on the insulin unit had special diets, special treatment, special recreation. "All the best of what the hospital had to offer was showered on them," said Robert Garber, who was a staff psychiatrist at Trenton in the early 1940s and later president of the American Psychiatric a.s.sociation. He said, "The insulin patients got a h.e.l.l of a lot of TLC. In the family's eyes, insulin had great appeal. Patients' relatives were overwhelmed."24 For the next six weeks, five days a week, Nash endured the insulin treatments.25 Very early in the morning, a nurse would wake him and give him an insulin injection. By the time Baumecker got to the ward at eight-thirty, Nash's blood sugar would already have dropped precipitously. He would have been drowsy, hardly aware of his surroundings, perhaps half-delirious and talking to himself. One woman used to yell, "Jump in the lake. Jump in the lake," all the time. By nine-thirty or ten, Nash would be comatose, sinking deeper and deeper into unconsciousness until, at one stage, his body would become as rigid as if it were frozen solid and his fingers would be curled. At that point, a nurse would put a rubber hose through his nose and esophagus and a glucose solution would be administered. Sometimes, if necessary, this would be done intravenously. Then he would wake up, slowly and agonizingly, with nurses hovering over him. By eleven in the morning, Nash would be conscious again. And by the late afternoon, when the whole group would walk over to occupational therapy, he would be among them, the nurses bringing along orange juice in case anyone felt faint. Very early in the morning, a nurse would wake him and give him an insulin injection. By the time Baumecker got to the ward at eight-thirty, Nash's blood sugar would already have dropped precipitously. He would have been drowsy, hardly aware of his surroundings, perhaps half-delirious and talking to himself. One woman used to yell, "Jump in the lake. Jump in the lake," all the time. By nine-thirty or ten, Nash would be comatose, sinking deeper and deeper into unconsciousness until, at one stage, his body would become as rigid as if it were frozen solid and his fingers would be curled. At that point, a nurse would put a rubber hose through his nose and esophagus and a glucose solution would be administered. Sometimes, if necessary, this would be done intravenously. Then he would wake up, slowly and agonizingly, with nurses hovering over him. By eleven in the morning, Nash would be conscious again. And by the late afternoon, when the whole group would walk over to occupational therapy, he would be among them, the nurses bringing along orange juice in case anyone felt faint.

Very often, during the comatose stage, patients whose blood-sugar levels dropped too far would have spontaneous seizures - thras.h.i.+ng around, biting their tongues. Broken bones were not uncommon. Sometimes patients remained in the coma. "We lost one young man," recalled Baumecker. "We'd all become very alarmed. We'd call in experts and do all kinds of things. Sometimes patients would get very hot and we'd pack them in ice."26 Good, firsthand accounts of the experience are difficult to find, in part because the treatment destroys large blocs of recent memory. Nash would later describe insulin therapy as "torture," and he resented it for many years afterward, sometimes giving as a return address on a letter "Insulin Inst.i.tute."27 A hint of how unpleasant it was can be gleaned from the account of another patient: A hint of how unpleasant it was can be gleaned from the account of another patient: Breaking through the first sodden layers of consciousness ... the smell of fresh wool ... they make me come back every day, day after day, back from the nothingness. The sickness, the taste of blood in my mouth, my tongue is raw. The gag must have slipped today. The foggy pain in my head ... this was my unbroken routine for three months ... very little of it is clear in retrospect save the agony of emerging from shock every day.28

It's true, as Garber said, that insulin patients were coddled compared to others at Trenton. Insulin patients got richer and more varied food. They got special desserts. They had ice cream every night at bedtime. Most had ground privileges and permission to go out on weekend visits. All the patients gained weight. That was considered a good sign. The doctors on the ward were proud that their patients were in good physical health. "People would put on a lot of weight because of the insulin," recalled Baumecker. "The low blood sugar would make it necessary to give them a lot of sugar and the sugar had a lot of calories. For some of these spindly, skinny schizophrenics it wasn't such a bad thing."29 But patients often hated it. Nash's subsequent obsession with his diet and weight may well have stemmed from this experience of being "force-fed." But patients often hated it. Nash's subsequent obsession with his diet and weight may well have stemmed from this experience of being "force-fed."

Treating schizophrenic patients with insulin coma was the idea of Manfred Sackel, a Viennese physician who thought of it during the 1920s and used it on psychotic patients, especially ones with schizophrenia, in the mid-1930s.30 His notion was that if the brain were deprived of sugar, which is what keeps it going, the cells that were functioning marginally would die. It would be like radiation treatments for cancer. Some pract.i.tioners who used it in the 1950s, when the first effective antipsychotic drugs became available, took the view that insulin shock was more effective than antipsychotics, especially with regard to delusional thinking. His notion was that if the brain were deprived of sugar, which is what keeps it going, the cells that were functioning marginally would die. It would be like radiation treatments for cancer. Some pract.i.tioners who used it in the 1950s, when the first effective antipsychotic drugs became available, took the view that insulin shock was more effective than antipsychotics, especially with regard to delusional thinking.31 No one understood the mechanism, but two large-scale studies in the late 1930s found that insulin-treated patients had better and more lasting outcomes than untreated individuals, but evidence for insulin's efficacy was hardly overwhelming. No one understood the mechanism, but two large-scale studies in the late 1930s found that insulin-treated patients had better and more lasting outcomes than untreated individuals, but evidence for insulin's efficacy was hardly overwhelming.32 It was in any case riskier and far more involved than electroshock, and by 1960, insulin shock therapy had been phased out by most hospitals as too dangerous and expensive when compared with electroshock. The conclusion was that insulin wasn't worth the investment of time and money or the risks.

The treatments produced at least temporary improvement in many patients, according to Garber: They'd see everybody hovering over them, very concerned about them, a feeling of loving camaraderie. I always thought that was very therapeutic. For the first time, somebody cared. Patients became more outgoing, more active. They got to go out on weekend visits. They got ground privileges. I think it helped. Patients were brighter, more alert, more conversational.33

While Nash later blamed the treatments for large gaps in his memory,34 he also told his cousin Richard Nash, whom he visited in San Francisco in 1967, that "I didn't get better until the money ran out and I went to a public hospital." he also told his cousin Richard Nash, whom he visited in San Francisco in 1967, that "I didn't get better until the money ran out and I went to a public hospital."35

As dangerous and agonizing as it was, insulin was one of the few treatments available for serious illnesses like schizophrenia which, until the middle of the century, often meant lifelong incarceration. And, like other state hospitals, Trenton was a laboratory for every "cure" that came along. Before the war, Garber recounted: [We] treated all patients with the tools that were available. Colonic irrigation was still used. So was fever therapy. We had a strain of malaria that we would inoculate patients with. Later on we used a typhoid strain. We'd inject a typhoid vaccine and within hours patients would experience nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and fevers of 104 to 105. We'd do that for eight or ten weeks, two or three days a week. We did it to take the starch out of disturbed patients.

At Trenton the first order of the day, when I arrived at the hospital supervisor's office at 8 A.M A.M. was to see who could be moved out of seclusion to make room for another eight to fifteen patients who needed to be secluded. [The rooms] were ten by twelve, lined with glazed tiles, with terrazzo floors. There was a toilet and a sink and a drain in the middle of the floor so that if a patient, say, smeared feces around the room, we could hose it down.

You would do anything to give yourself a handle to bring the patient under control.36

After six weeks, Nash, whose insulin treatments were judged to be effective, was transferred to Ward Six, the so-called rehab or parole ward.37 There was group therapy every day, some recreation, and occupational therapy. "This was the cream of the patient crop," Baumecker recalled. "There were only about fifteen beds. Other wards had thirty patients per room. Patients got individual attention, went on trips, and were allowed to go home on visits." There was group therapy every day, some recreation, and occupational therapy. "This was the cream of the patient crop," Baumecker recalled. "There were only about fifteen beds. Other wards had thirty patients per room. Patients got individual attention, went on trips, and were allowed to go home on visits."38 Nash actually began to work on a paper on fluid dynamics while he was on Ward Six. Baumecker recalled, "The patients made fun of him because he was always so up in the clouds. 'Professor,' one of them said on one occasion, let me show you how one uses a broom.' "39 Alicia visited Nash every week. Once he was allowed out on pa.s.ses, she took him to her folk-dancing group and out to Swift's Colonial Diner. Alicia visited Nash every week. Once he was allowed out on pa.s.ses, she took him to her folk-dancing group and out to Swift's Colonial Diner.40 It was the highlight of Nash's week. It was the highlight of Nash's week.

He seemed to be in remission, clearly no longer a threat to himself or others. Baumecker recommended him for discharge, pointing out that, contrary to the popular belief, "We had to discharge people as fast as we could to get the census down."41 He was discharged on July 15, a month after his thirty-third birthday. He was discharged on July 15, a month after his thirty-third birthday.42 A few months after Nash got out, Baumecker called the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study and asked to speak to Oppenheimer about whether Nash was now sane. Oppenheimer replied, "That's something no one on earth can tell you, doctor." A few months after Nash got out, Baumecker called the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study and asked to speak to Oppenheimer about whether Nash was now sane. Oppenheimer replied, "That's something no one on earth can tell you, doctor."43

CHAPTER 41

An Interlude of Enforced Rationality July 1961April 1963 July 1961April 1963

When I had been long enough hospitalized... I would finally renounce my delusional hypotheses and revert to thinking of myself as a human of more conventional circ.u.mstances.

-JOHN N NASH, n.o.bel autobiography, 1995 n.o.bel autobiography, 1995

A MAN EXPERIENCING MAN EXPERIENCING a remission of a physical illness may feel a renewed sense of vitality and delight in resuming his old activities. But someone who has spent months and years feeling privy to cosmic, even divine, insights, and now feels such insights are no longer his to enjoy, is bound to have a very different reaction. For Nash, the recovery of his everyday rational thought processes produced a sense of diminution and loss. The growing relevance and clarity of his thinking, which his doctor, wife, and colleagues hailed as an improvement, struck him as a deterioration. In his autobiographical essay, written after he won the n.o.bel, Nash writes that "rational thought imposes a limit on a person's concept of his relation to the cosmos." a remission of a physical illness may feel a renewed sense of vitality and delight in resuming his old activities. But someone who has spent months and years feeling privy to cosmic, even divine, insights, and now feels such insights are no longer his to enjoy, is bound to have a very different reaction. For Nash, the recovery of his everyday rational thought processes produced a sense of diminution and loss. The growing relevance and clarity of his thinking, which his doctor, wife, and colleagues hailed as an improvement, struck him as a deterioration. In his autobiographical essay, written after he won the n.o.bel, Nash writes that "rational thought imposes a limit on a person's concept of his relation to the cosmos."1 He refers to remissions not as joyful returns to a healthy state but as "interludes, as it were, of enforced rationality." His regretful tone brings to mind the words of Lawrence, a young man with schizophrenia, who invented a theory of "psychomathematics" and told Rutgers psychologist Louis Sa.s.s: "People kept thinking I was regaining my brilliance, but what I was really doing was retreating to simpler and simpler levels of thought." He refers to remissions not as joyful returns to a healthy state but as "interludes, as it were, of enforced rationality." His regretful tone brings to mind the words of Lawrence, a young man with schizophrenia, who invented a theory of "psychomathematics" and told Rutgers psychologist Louis Sa.s.s: "People kept thinking I was regaining my brilliance, but what I was really doing was retreating to simpler and simpler levels of thought."2 It is possible, naturally, that Nash's feeling reflected an actual dulling of his cognitive capacities relative not just to his exalted states, but to his abilities before the onset of his psychosis.3 The consciousness of how much his circ.u.mstances in life, not to mention his prospects, were altered compounded his distress. At thirty-three, he was out of work, branded as a former mental patient, and dependent on the kindness of former colleagues. Excerpts from a letter to Donald Spencer written around the time of Nash's release from Trenton on July 15 suggest how modest Nash's view of reality had become: The consciousness of how much his circ.u.mstances in life, not to mention his prospects, were altered compounded his distress. At thirty-three, he was out of work, branded as a former mental patient, and dependent on the kindness of former colleagues. Excerpts from a letter to Donald Spencer written around the time of Nash's release from Trenton on July 15 suggest how modest Nash's view of reality had become: In my situation and antic.i.p.ated situation a fellows.h.i.+p ... with the idea being that I am expected to be doing research work and studies, etc. seems a better prospect... than a standard academic teaching position. For one thing, much of the conceivable worry over ... the implications of my having been in a state mental hospital would be thereby by-pa.s.sed.4

With the help of Spencer, who was on the Princeton faculty, and several members of the permanent mathematics faculty at the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study - Armand Borel, Atle Selberg, Marston Morse, and Deane Montgomery - a one-year research appointment at the inst.i.tute was arranged.5 Oppenheimer found six thousand dollars of National Science Foundation money to support Nash. Oppenheimer found six thousand dollars of National Science Foundation money to support Nash.6 Nash's application, datecl July 19, 1961, stated that he wished to "continue the study of partial differential equations" and mentioned "other research interests, some related to my earlier work," as well. Nash's application, datecl July 19, 1961, stated that he wished to "continue the study of partial differential equations" and mentioned "other research interests, some related to my earlier work," as well.7 In late July, Alicia's mother brought John Charles, a big, handsome two-year-old, to Princeton. Nash called the reunion "a big occasion for me since I haven't seen our little boy all during 1961!"8 Then, at the beginning of August, Nash attended a mathematics conference in Colorado where he ran into a number of old acquaintances and went on a day-long excursion with Spencer, an enthusiastic mountaineer, to climb Pike's Peak. Then, at the beginning of August, Nash attended a mathematics conference in Colorado where he ran into a number of old acquaintances and went on a day-long excursion with Spencer, an enthusiastic mountaineer, to climb Pike's Peak.9 Nash and Alicia were living together once more, but not especially happily. The turbulence of the two previous years had produced an acc.u.mulation of hurts and resentments, and the resulting coldness lingered and was exacerbated by new conflicts over money, childrearing, and other issues of daily living. None of this was made easier by the fact that Nash's in-laws now lived with them. Carlos Larde's health had deteriorated markedly, and he and his wife Alicia moved to Princeton that fall. The two couples shared a house at 137 Spruce Street.10 It was a great help that Mrs. Larde cared for Johnny while Alicia went to work, but living together created another layer of strain, especially for Alicia. It was a great help that Mrs. Larde cared for Johnny while Alicia went to work, but living together created another layer of strain, especially for Alicia.

They tried to make the best of it. Nash attempted to care for his son, picking him up at nursery school and the like. They socialized with the Nelsons, the Milnors, and a few others. Once or twice, they drove up to Ma.s.sachusetts to visit John and Odette Danskin, who had moved there the previous fall, and to see John Stier.11 The visits were rather fraught and Eleanor used to call John Danskin afterward to complain about Nash. On one visit, apparently, Nash had come with a bag of doughnuts. "Eleanor kept saying, 'How cheap!' " Odette recalled. The visits were rather fraught and Eleanor used to call John Danskin afterward to complain about Nash. On one visit, apparently, Nash had come with a bag of doughnuts. "Eleanor kept saying, 'How cheap!' " Odette recalled.12 In early October, Nash attended a most historic conference in Princeton.13 The conference, organized by Oskar Morgenstern, and attended by virtually the entire game-theory community, amounted to a celebration of cooperative theory. There The conference, organized by Oskar Morgenstern, and attended by virtually the entire game-theory community, amounted to a celebration of cooperative theory. There was little mention of noncooperative games or bargaining. But John Harsanyi, a Hungarian, Reinhard Selten, a German, and John Nash, dressed in odd mismatched clothing, mostly silent, were all there. was little mention of noncooperative games or bargaining. But John Harsanyi, a Hungarian, Reinhard Selten, a German, and John Nash, dressed in odd mismatched clothing, mostly silent, were all there.14 This was the first time these three men had met, and they would not meet again until they traveled to Stockholm a quarter of a century later to accept n.o.bel Prizes. Harsanyi remembers asking one of the Princeton people why Nash said so little during the sessions. The answer, Harsanyi recalled, in a conversation in Jerusalem in 1995, was "He was afraid he would say something strange and humiliate himself." This was the first time these three men had met, and they would not meet again until they traveled to Stockholm a quarter of a century later to accept n.o.bel Prizes. Harsanyi remembers asking one of the Princeton people why Nash said so little during the sessions. The answer, Harsanyi recalled, in a conversation in Jerusalem in 1995, was "He was afraid he would say something strange and humiliate himself."15 Nash was able to work again, something he had not been able to do for nearly three years. He turned once more to the mathematical a.n.a.lysis of the motion of fluids and certain types of nonlinear partial differential equations that can be used as models for such flows. He finished his paper on fluid dynamics, begun while he was in Trenton State hospital.16 It was t.i.tled "Le Probleme de Cauchy Pour Les Equations Differentielles d'une Fluide Generale"-and published in 1962 in a French mathematical journal. It was t.i.tled "Le Probleme de Cauchy Pour Les Equations Differentielles d'une Fluide Generale"-and published in 1962 in a French mathematical journal.17 The paper, which Nash and others have described as "quite a respectable piece of work" The paper, which Nash and others have described as "quite a respectable piece of work"18 and which the and which the Encyclopedic Dictionary of Mathematics Encyclopedic Dictionary of Mathematics called "basic and noteworthy," eventually inspired a good deal of subsequent work on the so-called "Cauchy problem for the general Navier-Stokes equations." In the paper, Nash was able to prove the existence of unique regular solutions in local time. called "basic and noteworthy," eventually inspired a good deal of subsequent work on the so-called "Cauchy problem for the general Navier-Stokes equations." In the paper, Nash was able to prove the existence of unique regular solutions in local time.19 "After Nash's hospitalization he came out and seemed OK," Atle Selberg recalled. "It was good for him to be at the IAS. Not everybody on the Princeton faculty was very friendly. It's true that he didn't speak. He wrote everything on blackboards. He was perfectly articulate in writing. He gave a lecture on Navier-Stokes equations - which concern hydrodynamics and partial differential equations - something I don't know much about. He seemed fairly normal for a while."20 He was most at ease in one-on-one encounters where his sense of humor came to his aid. Gillian Richardson, who was on the staff of the inst.i.tute's computer center from 1959 to 1962, recalled eating lunch with Nash in the inst.i.tute dining hall and Nash's saying all sorts of dry, wry things about psychiatrists. One time he asked, "Do you know a good psychiatrist in Princeton?" - adding that his own psychiatrist " 'sat on a throne way above' him, and he wondered if I knew one who didn't share that peculiarity."21 Nash showed up in French 105, the third-semester French course at the university, one day and asked Karl Uitti if he could audit it. He struck the French professor as "the typically dreamy and out-to-lunch mathematician."22 Nash attended quite regularly and kept up with the work. He seemed less interested in picking up conversational "tourist French" than in acquiring "a sense of French structure," Uitti recalled, adding, "He was quite pro-French. He liked the language and the people." Nash attended quite regularly and kept up with the work. He seemed less interested in picking up conversational "tourist French" than in acquiring "a sense of French structure," Uitti recalled, adding, "He was quite pro-French. He liked the language and the people."

Uitti and Nash became rather friendly and met outside cla.s.s, and on a number of occasions with Alicia. At some point, Uitti asked Nash why he was learning French. Nash answered that he was writing a mathematical paper. "There was only one person in the world who would be able to understand it and that person was French. He wanted, therefore, to write the paper in French," Uitti said. Uitti could not recall Nash's intended audience; chances are it was either Leray, who was at the inst.i.tute that year, or Grothendieck. After the paper was published, Nash gave it to another member of the Inst.i.tute to read. The next time he saw the man, Nash asked him, "Did you detect the s.e.xual overtones?"23 Uitti commented in 1997: Uitti commented in 1997: That was the time that de Gaulle was in power and strong pressure was being exerted on French scientists to deliver their papers in French. Nash always struck me as very well-bred, very courteous. I'm certain that there was in his mind a sense of respect for whomever he was writing the paper for. It was sweet of him and I liked him for it.24

Nash asked Jean-Pierre Cauvin to edit a draft of the paper.25 Cauvin, who was doing quite a bit of translation work at the time, recalled Nash's telling him that "Paris was the center for this kind of mathematics." Nash also turned to a French undergraduate, Hubert Goldschmidt, for help. Cauvin, who was doing quite a bit of translation work at the time, recalled Nash's telling him that "Paris was the center for this kind of mathematics." Nash also turned to a French undergraduate, Hubert Goldschmidt, for help.26 Nash had not given up the idea of returning to France. He submitted the Cauchy paper to the Bulletin de la Societe Mathematique de France Bulletin de la Societe Mathematique de France on January 19. He was, Cauvin thought, more withdrawn and subdued than ever, and in retrospect it is clear that he was thinking a great deal about leaving Princeton. Very likely, he got in touch with Grothendieck at the Inst.i.tut des Hautes etudes Scientifiques. In April Oppenheimer wrote to Leon Motchane, director of the IHES, to ask Motchane to formally invite Nash to spend the first half of the academic year 1963 - 64 there. on January 19. He was, Cauvin thought, more withdrawn and subdued than ever, and in retrospect it is clear that he was thinking a great deal about leaving Princeton. Very likely, he got in touch with Grothendieck at the Inst.i.tut des Hautes etudes Scientifiques. In April Oppenheimer wrote to Leon Motchane, director of the IHES, to ask Motchane to formally invite Nash to spend the first half of the academic year 1963 - 64 there.27 Oppenheimer also asked Leray, who was at the inst.i.tute that year, to see if he could provide a grant from the Centre de la Recherches Nationale Scientifiques for the second half of the year. Oppenheimer also asked Leray, who was at the inst.i.tute that year, to see if he could provide a grant from the Centre de la Recherches Nationale Scientifiques for the second half of the year.28 At the same time, he noted that Nash would have been welcome to continue at the Inst.i.tute for a second year: "If [Nash] asked to stay here for the autumn, I think that my colleagues would probably accede; but that is not his choice." At the same time, he noted that Nash would have been welcome to continue at the Inst.i.tute for a second year: "If [Nash] asked to stay here for the autumn, I think that my colleagues would probably accede; but that is not his choice."

Nash did not suggest that Alicia go with him to France, and this time Alicia did not try to dissuade him. Nor did she offer to go. It was clear that, by some mutual and unspoken agreement, the marriage was over and they were going to go their separate ways.

That winter, Nash spent more and more time in the Fine Hall common room, usually showing up at teatime and staying until evening. "He wore baggy, rumpled clothes," Stefan Burr, then a graduate student, recalled. "He didn't seem at all aggressive. In some ways his manner was not that different from a lot of mathematicians'." clothes," Stefan Burr, then a graduate student, recalled. "He didn't seem at all aggressive. In some ways his manner was not that different from a lot of mathematicians'."29 For a while, Burr and Nash were playing endless games of Hex. The board in Fine had been drawn years before on heavy cardboard and was so worn that the lines had constantly to be redrawn with a ballpoint pen. For a while, Burr and Nash were playing endless games of Hex. The board in Fine had been drawn years before on heavy cardboard and was so worn that the lines had constantly to be redrawn with a ballpoint pen.

He was beginning to seem less well again. Borel recalled, "He was not quite right. He seemed to me very diminished. His mathematics was not at the same level. I found him odd, unpredictable, nonsensical. It was very painful. The secretaries were afraid of him. He was someone to avoid. You never knew what he would do or say."30 One time the Borels had Alicia and Nash over for tea. "We served tea and cookies," said Borel. "Nash went into the kitchen. I followed him. What do you want?' I asked. Well, I'd like some salt and pepper.' "31 Gaby Borel added: "After he put salt and pepper in his tea, he complained that the tea tasted awful." Gaby Borel added: "After he put salt and pepper in his tea, he complained that the tea tasted awful."32 During the spring, his state of mind had become more angry and restless, and he was beginning again to harp on his old obsessions. He decided, rather suddenly, to travel to the West Coast, where he saw, among others, Al Vasquez, who had graduated from MIT and was now a graduate student at Berkeley, Lloyd Shapley, and Al Tucker's former wife, Alice Beckenback, and her new husband. Vasquez recalled: I just walked into the common room [at Berkeley] and he was there. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He didn't announce his visits in advance. I had no idea where he was staying. But he was around for more than just a day or two. He hadn't been looking for me. I had the impression that he'd been in Europe, the East Coast, and that he was traveling around. He talked a lot. He quite explicitly talked about [insulin] shock therapy. He described shock therapy as extremely painful. He also said he was taken back from Europe on a s.h.i.+p and in chains. Slavery was a word he used a lot. He was very bitter about his experiences.

He was pretty disoriented. He wasn't able to talk about anything else but his obsessions. I was put off. It was odd. I never did understand why he talked to me. He knew me. He wasn't really trying to communicate. He wanted to talk elusively. [Yet] it wasn't gibberish. It was even clever at times, full of puns and allusions.33

Shapley, to whom Nash had written a great many letters, also found Nash's appearance in Santa Monica distressing. "He thought of me as a close friend. One had to put up with it. He would send me postcards in colored inks. It was very sad. They were scribbled with math and numerology, as if he were not expecting a reply. I was much on his mind. He had decayed in a very spectacular way," Shapley recalled in 1994. "He was groping."34 Shapley remembered Nash telling him, "I Shapley remembered Nash telling him, "I have this problem. I think I can straighten it out if I can figure out which members of the Math Society did this to me." He didn't stay long, Shapley said, adding: have this problem. I think I can straighten it out if I can figure out which members of the Math Society did this to me." He didn't stay long, Shapley said, adding: It was a bit frightening. We had two young children. What was clear was that there was no way to talk to him or even follow what he was saying. He'd switch from topic to topic. It's very hard to be a good mathematician if you can't hold a thought in your mind.'35

In June, Nash left for Europe. He was due to attend a conference in Paris in the last week in June and the World Mathematical Congress in Stockholm in^ early August. He went to London first, where he stayed at the Hotel Russell in Bloomsbury, which he described as "very grand."36 He got himself a private postal box and was once again writing letters, some on toilet paper, in green ink, in French. He was also sending drawings, including one of a prostrate figure pierced with arrows. One, postmarked June 14, contained a sc.r.a.p of paper with the following written on it in green ink: 2 + 5 + 20 + 8 + 12 + 15 + 18 + 15 + 13 = 78.

The conference at the College de France in Paris was a small and intimate affair, very much dominated by Leray, who was very excited at that time about nonlinear hyperbolic equations. Ed Nelson, who had become quite friendly with Nash over the academic year, recalled Leray's saying that it was a scandal that there were no global existence theorems. "The feeling he conveyed," Nelson said, "was that we had better get to work, or the world might come to an end at any moment."37 Most of the speakers gave their talk's in English. Lars Hormander, who was also there, recalled that "1962 was very different from earlier visits." Most of the speakers gave their talk's in English. Lars Hormander, who was also there, recalled that "1962 was very different from earlier visits."38 But Nash insisted on giving his lecture in what he called his "pidgin French." But Nash insisted on giving his lecture in what he called his "pidgin French."39 He did not speak extemporaneously but read from his notes in his very soft voice and with his very strong American accent. Hormander recalled: "Nash's paper was respectable mathematically. It was a surprise to all of us [that he could have produced it at all]. For us it was like seeing somebody rise from the grave." He did not speak extemporaneously but read from his notes in his very soft voice and with his very strong American accent. Hormander recalled: "Nash's paper was respectable mathematically. It was a surprise to all of us [that he could have produced it at all]. For us it was like seeing somebody rise from the grave."40 His behavior, however, was decidedly odd, Hormander later said:

Malgrange, the official conference organizer, had a dinner for the partic.i.p.ants. At the table, Nash exchanged his plate with the person next to him. Then he traded yet again until he was satisfied that his food wasn't poisoned. Everybody was very aware of his bizarre behavior but n.o.body said a word.

Malgrange had bought a nice big jar of caviar which was being pa.s.sed around. When the jar came to Nash, he tipped the entire thing upside down onto his plate. Everybody was very well-behaved and said nothing.41

While Nash was still in Paris, on July 2, his father-in-law died suddenly.42 Alicia attempted, through Milnor and Danskin, to contact Nash but was not successful. Carlos Larde was buried in the churchyard of St. Paul's on Na.s.sau Street. Alicia attempted, through Milnor and Danskin, to contact Nash but was not successful. Carlos Larde was buried in the churchyard of St. Paul's on Na.s.sau Street.

Nash, meanwhile, went back to London. What drew him to London is not clear, since his original plan had been, presumably, to spend the summer, except for the congress in Stockholm, as well as the following academic year, in Paris. In any event, Nash was still in London on July 24 when he wrote to Martha from the Hotel Stefan on Talbot Square.43 He apparently still intended to travel on to Stockholm. Addressing her as E-me-line, Martha's middle name, he wrote that he was merely pa.s.sing the time, with little to do, until the mathematical congress in Stockholm and was considering seeing a psychologist or visiting some sort of clinic. He apparently still intended to travel on to Stockholm. Addressing her as E-me-line, Martha's middle name, he wrote that he was merely pa.s.sing the time, with little to do, until the mathematical congress in Stockholm and was considering seeing a psychologist or visiting some sort of clinic.

Danskin recalled that someone went looking for Nash and finally found him hanging around the Chinese emba.s.sy in London.44 The head of the MIT economics department took a group of business management people to London that summer. He suddenly saw John Nash and asked him, "Where are you now?" Puzzled, Nash replied, "Where are you?" The head of the MIT economics department took a group of business management people to London that summer. He suddenly saw John Nash and asked him, "Where are you now?" Puzzled, Nash replied, "Where are you?"45 The International Mathematical Congress took place in the third week of August in Stockholm.46 Among the plenary speakers were Armand Borel, John Milnor, and Louis Nirenberg. The Fields Medals were awarded to Milnor and Lars Hormander, both of whom had been notified in May and instructed to tell no one, leaving each to sit on his secret while others around them speculated on the year's likely winners. Among the plenary speakers were Armand Borel, John Milnor, and Louis Nirenberg. The Fields Medals were awarded to Milnor and Lars Hormander, both of whom had been notified in May and instructed to tell no one, leaving each to sit on his secret while others around them speculated on the year's likely winners.

Nash, who felt that he should have been one of those honored, did not, however, go to Stockholm. He went to Geneva instead, returning to the Hotel Alba where he had spent his final week in December 1959 and writing in French to Martha "chez Charles L. Legg."47 The letter made it clear that he was again thinking about the question of his ident.i.ty! He drew an ident.i.ty card with Chinese characters labeled "Des Secrets." He wrote "Could you sign this carte d'ident.i.te ... a man all alone in a strange world," he wrote underneath. He sent Virginia another postcard with a picture of Geneva but mailed it from Paris. The letter made it clear that he was again thinking about the question of his ident.i.ty! He drew an ident.i.ty card with Chinese characters labeled "Des Secrets." He wrote "Could you sign this carte d'ident.i.te ... a man all alone in a strange world," he wrote underneath. He sent Virginia another postcard with a picture of Geneva but mailed it from Paris.

When Nash returned to Princeton at the end of summer 1962, he was extremely ill. A postcard addressed to Mao Tse-tung c/o Fine Hall, Princeton, New Jersey, arrived in the mathematics department. Nash had written only a cryptic remark in French about triple tangent planes.48 Alicia let him move back in. He spent much of the fall at home with John Charles watching science-fiction programs on television, like Rod Serling's Twilight Zone. Twilight Zone.49 He was writing a great many letters and making many phone calls to mathematicians in Princeton and elsewhere. He was writing a great many letters and making many phone calls to mathematicians in Princeton and elsewhere.

He was still obsessed with the idea of asylum. A letter to Martha and Charlie, postmarked November 19, reads: "Maybe you will say that I'm mad ... request to St. Paul's in Princeton for sanctuary."50 Nash apparently walked past St. Paul's every day. The letter referred to the Ec.u.menical Council and previous letters he had written to the pastor of St. Paul's earlier in the month. The letter ended with a reference to "past misfortunes, especially in the fall season." In contrast to his letter to Martha from London, Nash no longer interpreted his difficulties as a sign of illness but rather as the results of machinations by the Ec.u.menical Council. By January, his letters to Martha and Charlie had become nearly incomprehensible, the thoughts skipping from Albanians to Stalin to "secrets can't reveal" and "wood and nails of the true cross." Nash apparently walked past St. Paul's every day. The letter referred to the Ec.u.menical Council and previous letters he had written to the pastor of St. Paul's earlier in the month. The letter ended with a reference to "past misfortunes, especially in the fall season." In contrast to his letter to Martha from London, Nash no longer interpreted his difficulties as a sign of illness but rather as the results of machinations by the Ec.u.menical Council. By January, his letters to Martha and Charlie had become nearly incomprehensible, the thoughts skipping from Albanians to Stalin to "secrets can't reveal" and "wood and nails of the true cross."51 Exhausted and dispirited by three years of turmoil and convinced that Nash's condition was more or less hopeless, Alicia consulted an attorney and inst.i.tuted divorce proceedings. She had married someone who she thought could look after her but couldn't, who resented her bitterly, and who accused her of having malevolent intentions. To Martha and Virginia she wrote that being married was helping to create Nash's problems and that she felt that being freed from the marriage would be better for him as well.52 Alicia's attorney, Frank L. Scott, a genial Princeton divorce lawyer with an office on Na.s.sau Street, filed for a divorce the day after Christmas 1962.53 Alicia had given the formal go-ahead in a deposition a week earlier. According to the pet.i.tion, Nash was still living with her at 137 Spruce Street. Alicia, meanwhile, temporarily rented a separate apartment on Vandeventer Street. Alicia had given the formal go-ahead in a deposition a week earlier. According to the pet.i.tion, Nash was still living with her at 137 Spruce Street. Alicia, meanwhile, temporarily rented a separate apartment on Vandeventer Street.54 Alicia's formal complaint read: On or about March 1959 it was necessary for the Plaintiff herein to cause the defendant to be committed to a mental inst.i.tution from which the defendant was released on or about June 1959. Despite the fact that said committal was in the best interest of the defendant, the defendant became very resentful of the Plaintiff for causing his commitment, and declared he would no longer live with the Plaintiff as man and wife. Consistent with the defendant's vow not to again live with the plaintiff as her husband, the defendant did in fact move into a separate room and refused to have marital relations with the plaintiff. In January 1961 defendant was caused to be committed to Trenton State Hospital by his mother from which he was released in June 1961. The defendant's resentment of his wife and insistence that they no longer have marital relations continued after his release from the aforementioned commitment, as it had prior to said commitment, and has continued against the wishes of the plaintiff to the present date. The time during which defendant has thus deserted plaintiff and during which defendant was not confined to any inst.i.tution but fully able to voluntarily resume marital relations, which he has not done, exceeds two years past and such desertion has been wilful, continuous and obstinate. Moreover defendant has failed to properly support plaintiff.55

Nash was served with a summons. Scott visited Nash the following day. On April 17, Scott once again talked to Nash, who, he said, had "no plans for changing either his residence or his occupational status." The judgment was rendered without a trial, granting a divorce and awarding Alicia custody of John Charles on May 1, 1963."56 Final judgment was rendered August 2, 1963. Final judgment was rendered August 2, 1963.57 There is no evidence that Nash was opposed to the divorce. While the pet.i.tion was a lawyer's doc.u.ment and not necessarily true in its particulars - the Danskins, for example, maintained that Nash and Alicia never stopped sleeping together - Nash's animosity toward Alicia was no doubt very real. He blamed Alicia for engineering his hospitalizations, he had threatened to divorce her while at McLean, and probably afterward as well, and he had made plans to live in France without her.

Nash's increasingly disturbed state, and rumors of his impending divorce, prompted a number of mathematicians to rally around him that spring. That Nash desperately needed treatment was not a subject of controversy this time. Once again, Donald Spencer and Albert Tucker approached Robert Winters.58 James Miller, a friend of Winters from Harvard, was in the psychiatry department at the University of Michigan and was connected with a university-sponsored clinic run by Ray Waggoner. James Miller, a friend of Winters from Harvard, was in the psychiatry department at the University of Michigan and was connected with a university-sponsored clinic run by Ray Waggoner.59 Through Miller, Winters succeeded in making a unique arrangement whereby Nash would be treated at the clinic and also have an opportunity to work as a statistician in the clinic's research program. Through Miller, Winters succeeded in making a unique arrangement whereby Nash would be treated at the clinic and also have an opportunity to work as a statistician in the clinic's research program.

Tucker at Princeton and Martin at MIT decided to set up a fund to make the Michigan plan feasible.60 Anatole Rappaport and Merrill Flood at the University of Michigan, Jurgen Moser at NYU, Alexander Ostrowski of Westinghouse, and others committed themselves to raise funds among mathematicians on Nash's behalf. Anatole Rappaport and Merrill Flood at the University of Michigan, Jurgen Moser at NYU, Alexander Ostrowski of Westinghouse, and others committed themselves to raise funds among mathematicians on Nash's behalf.61 The Ann Arbor group felt that a stay of two years was necessary. The cost for out-of-state patients was $9,000 a year or $18,000 for the entire stay. Virginia Nash offered to guarantee $10,000 and the group of mathematicians arranged, through the American Mathematical Society, to set up a fund-raising drive for the remaining $8,000. "If we are successful probably most of it will have to come from mathematicians who have known Nash," Martin wrote. "If anything can be done which will enable Nash to return to mathematics, even on a very limited scale, it would of course be very fine not only for him but also for mathematics."62 Albert E. Meder, Jr., the society's treasurer, was enthusiastic about the proposal, saying that "it would seem to me that it would be altogether appropriate for the AMS to receive contributions for the purposes set forth in [Martin's] letter of March 25... . I would be inclined to go ahead."63 Nash's increasingly bizarre behavior was triggering complaints, including some at the Inst.i.tute for Advanced Study. Mostly these had to do with Nash's writing mysterious messages on the inst.i.tute blackboards and making annoying telephone calls to various members. But one day the switchboard operators, who sat in an office immediately as one entered Fuld Hall, were all abuzz because each person who was coming through the door was being doused with water. The inst.i.tute's dining hall was then on the fourth floor of Fuld, and it turned out, upon investigation, that Nash had been pouring water from the window above the main door. sat in an office immediately as one entered Fuld Hall, were all abuzz because each person who was coming through the door was being doused with water. The inst.i.tute's dining hall was then on the fourth floor of Fuld, and it turned out, upon investigation, that Nash had been pouring water from the window above the main door.64 It was Donald Spencer, a man who could not stand to see anyone in trouble without intervening, who was elected to try to convince Nash to accept the Michigan offer and enter the clinic voluntarily.65 Spencer chose, as he usually did, a bar as his venue. He invited Nash for some beers in Na.s.sau Tavern, where Nash had once celebrated pa.s.sing his generals. They sat in the booth for hours, Spencer downing warm martinis, Nash nursing a single beer. Spencer talked and talked; Nash appeared to be listening but said very little except to remark, at various intervals, that he wasn't interested in doing statistical work. It was no use. Nash didn't believe that he was ill, and he wasn't prepared to enter another hospital. Spencer chose, as he usually did, a bar as his venue. He invited Nash for some beers in Na.s.sau Tavern, where Nash had once celebrated pa.s.sing his generals. They sat in the booth for hours, Spencer downing warm martinis, Nash nursing a single beer. Spencer talked and talked; Nash appeared to be listening but said very little except to remark, at various intervals, that he wasn't interested in doing statistical work. It was no use. Nash didn't believe that he was ill, and he wasn't prepared to enter another hospital.

Years later, Winters wept when he recounted the story: I thought I had worked out a perfect solution to a most unusual problem. I thought I could save a very worthwhile person. I'm very emotionally tied to this. I thought I was doing something really wonderful. Jim Miller told me never nev