A Pioneer in Electronics
DR. IRVING G. WOLFF '16
EACH year the venerable Franklin Institute in Philadelphia presents the Elliott Cresson Medal to one or more persons in recognition of discovery or original research adding to the sum of human knowledge. Last October, at the Institute's most recent ceremony, there arose to receive this noted award a quiet and unassuming gentleman looking more like a Mr. Chips than the world-renowned scientist he has become. This distinguished recipient was Dr. Irving G. Wolff '16, vice president of RCA, in charge of research, and holder of over eighty patents. The citation read, "In consideration of his many important contributions to the science of electronics as evidenced by his productiveness over a period of years in many fields such as acoustics, optics, radio, infra-red detection and radio frequency hearing, and especially in view of his pioneering work in the centimeter wave field and his contribution to radar development."
Born in New York City six years before the turn of the century, Dr. Wolff's path to Philadelphia was a long one, but one never devoid of honors and recognition for his many scientific accomplishments along the way. Actually it all began in Hanover one spring day back in 1916 with one of those strange little quirks of fate that so often set great and useful lives in motion. Young Irving Wolff, nearing graduation day, was strolling down the street when he happened to run into the chairman of the Physics Department, Dr. Gordon Ferrie Hull. The professor greeted him pleasantly and then added, almost as an afterthought, "How would you like to stay on and teach physics next year?"
Wolff was completely and utterly surprised. He had filled a good bit of his four college years with physics courses because he enjoyed their intellectual content, but the thought of teaching, or even of doing graduate work in the subject, had never entered his mind. It hadn't occurred to him that he might have the ability to handle it. Nevertheless, though intrigued by the offer, previous plans for going into his father's business automatically precluded any possibility of his accepting.
However, the idea must have found fertile soil somewhere in Irving Wolff's mind, for after three years in the business world he decided this was not the life for him and he sent off a letter to Professor Hull inquiring if a position might still be open. As it turned out, there was no vacancy at Dartmouth, but he did manage to find a place with the physics department at lowa State University. After a year there he went on to Cornell for more advanced study and teaching, finally emerging with his doctorate in physics in 1923. RCA, then a relatively young corporation, offered him a research job which he accepted, and he was destined to remain with them permanently.
At this time, during the mid-twenties, with radio developing into a full-scale industry and the movies experimenting with the possibility of adding a sound track to films, there was soon to be a great demand for improved loud speakers for the home and for large theaters. Dr. Wolff was assigned to this acoustical project and spent the next eight years on it. The basic problems were eventually licked and, as the speaker systems were improved, he turned to microwaves.
These were electronic vibrations of extremely high frequency (three billion per second) and in 1932, when Dr. Wolff began investigating the phenomena, they were thought of principally as potential carrier waves for communication or television relaying, a project that was then only at the laboratory stage. But these elusive microwaves had other properties as well, notably an ability to "bounce" or echo off solid objects. Dr. Wolff teamed up with another RCA scientist, Ernest G. Lindner, to investigate, and two years later, in 1934, the two men assembled what was to be the first microwave scanning radar set built in the United States, a prototype of many to follow in later years. The big moment came when, at a. demonstration given for the U. S. Signal Corps at Atlantic Highlands, N. J., their primitive equipment was able to pick up the image of a boat a half mile offshore in New York Bay. From these beginnings the research team began to improve their design and by 1937 the first scanning mechanism was introduced. They were justifiably elated when, later that year, a set they had installed on top of the RCA building in Camden was able to pick up on its screen the surrounding skyline and boats in the harbor.
Radar, which stands for "radio detection and ranging," had demonstrated its enormous potential, but it had still not proven feasible commercially and the money-starved military of that era could only look on with interest. However, about that .time, there were several disastrous airplane accidents and RCA began to look upon Dr. Wolff's new paraphernalia as a possible navigational aid for the airlines. Into an old Ford trimotor they built what was to be the first airborne radar in the United States. It looked like a laboratory with wings, cluttered with complex wiring and equipment, but it worked; and with it the scientists could pick out other planes, spot variations in the terrain, and get an extremely accurate altitude reading.
They were about to approach commercial airlines with the remarkable new device, but war clouds were gathering in Europe and the government dropped a curtain of classification around the project. A few Navy ships began to be radarequipped, but as was so often the case during those tragic years, it was too little and too late. The tale of the newly installed radar set that might have alerted Pearl Harbor to the Japanese attack is now history, a testimonial to "what might have been" had the officers in charge been better instructed and more confident in the equipment's capabilities. But American radar was still to have its day and undoubtedly it proved a big factor in the eventual Allied victory.
Despite his pioneering work in radar development, Dr. Wolff makes no claim to being the inventor. "It was developed simultaneously in many countries," he says, "a natural outgrowth of the electronic research that was progressing all over the world." He especially cites the early and consistent work of the British, whose contributions to the success of U. S. wartime radar, he believes, have never been sufficiently publicized. Apparently the French also had radar, as did the Germans. The former couldn't get funds from the government to support the work; and the Germans under Hitler, once they had the first successful set in operation, didn't bother with improvements, turning their scientists to other tasks. Dr. Wolff mentions these various attitudes as an interesting commentary on the pre-war personality of those nations and their peoples. The Germans were overconfident; the French, inefficient and militarily living in the past; and the British, persevering and determined.
As the war progressed Dr. Wolff was put to work on other pressing and highly specialized projects, among them the development of an electronic altimeter to facilitate blind bombing. Other machines of war he worked on were staggering to the imagination, but could not be put into production before hostilities ended. One such venture was remote-controlled planes, homing on and bombing their targets automatically by radar. On one test run, Dr. Wolff recalls, they plastered all the lighthouses in Delaware Bay with water bombs and, he adds amusedly, probably scared the living daylights out of every fisherman in the area. This, he declares, was really the start of the push-button age of warfare.
BY 1946 radar and some other war-in-spired inventions had become passé so far as the research scientist was concerned, and they were relegated to the field of engineering for future technical improvements and manufacturing processes. Dr. Wolff was put in charge of RCA's radio tube research laboratory in Princeton, and in 1951 he was made director of research. Three years later he was elected RCA's vice president in charge of research. During this period since the war, his work gradually became more and more administrative in nature; and the only actual laboratory research he managed to get in was when he was just "tinkering around at home."
Until last August when he retired from the more active phases of his position, his realm was the giant and modern RCA Laboratory buildings which are located just outside Princeton on the far side of U. S. Route 1. Under his direction labored a technical staff of 300, and more than twice that many supporting personnel. It's a constantly growing operation with activities always ready to shift to fit the demands of the times.
The RCA research staff over the years has proceeded, Dr. Wolff explains, on the basis of three general propositions. The first might be called, "Damn well better"; the second, "Wouldn't it be nice?"; and the last, "How? - Why?" Obviously, the first deals with pressing needs that must be solved, such as enemy aircraft and submarine detection during the last war, electronic color television in the early fifties, or, more currently, electronic antimissile defense. The second concerns products that it would be nice to have if the basic problems could be solved in such a manner as to make production commercially feasible. The third category is the foundation for the other two - basic scientific inquiry to supply the necessary understanding of new chemical and physical phenomena. Without this last, he claims, the first two would eventually become impossible.
As might be ascertained from these three predications, modern science has become through the years more and more of a communal affair; and, by way of example, Dr. Wolff cites the development of radar, which even in its earliest days was an integrated venture that could not honestly be credited to any one man working on any one level. Still, the organizational aspects of science should not be mentioned without some qualification. He feels that although the Edisons in their lonely basement laboratories may be relics of the past, the major breakthroughs in science are still produced by individual genius.
Perhaps, though he would most likely deny it, this commentary might find perfect application in Dr. Wolff himself. At any rate, the Navy Department thought highly enough of his personal spark of genius to bestow upon him in 1948 its Distinguished Public Service Award, the highest Navy honor given to a civilian. And, as mentioned before, his most recent distinction, the Cresson Medal, is a great tribute to his vast and unique contributions to the whole field of electronics and related areas. In addition to these honors, he has been elected a Fellow in the Institute of Radio Engineers, the American Physical Society, the Acoustical Society of America, and the American Association for the Advancement of Science. He is also a member of two honorary professional societies, Sigma Xi and Phi Kappa Phi.
SINCE his retirement last summer, Dr. Wolff has remained with RCA research in a more or less advisory capacity, but his major efforts are now turned toward the corporation's educational committee, of which he has been made chairman. RCA grants large sums of money for scholarships and aids to education, and it is up to his group to determine the basic contribution policy. He intends to visit at least thirty of the recipient schools every year to confer with professors, administrators and the scholarship holders themselves.
These financial grants come in many forms, but the majority are for students in some form of scientific endeavor on both graduate and undergraduate levels. One of the most important categories, Dr. Wolff feels, is known as the "Science Teaching Scholarships," given to selected teacher colleges throughout the country. As the name implies, these scholarships are intended to stimulate bright young men and women to prepare for science teaching in the secondary schools. With industry and government offering potential teachers double the salary and benefits, he believes that such grants are a valuable investment in assuring competent instruction for the future generations of scientists yet to be born.
As he talks about these new projects, Dr. Wolff's eyes light up. He has always been deeply interested in education even while in research, and he is pleased at the prospect of now being able to devote almost full time to it. Another nice thing about being associated with the academic field again is that his summers are free. This past summer he took Mrs. Wolff and their ten-year-old daughter, Margaret, to a ranch in Colorado. Margaret, the horsewoman of the family, proceeded to walk off with most of the riding prizes, humbling a large body of young Texans who had to watch a New Jersey girl beat them at what is supposedly their own talent. Dr. Wolff hints that he wouldn't mind living in the west full-time if he had the chance, but for the time being he is out-numbered by the distaff side which is quite happy to remain east of the Appalachians. If you do have to stay in the East though, he remarks whimsically, the quiet, academic atmosphere of Princeton makes it as nice a place as any in which to live.
Occasionally, during one of the moments he has free for reflection, Irving Wolff, the distinguished scientist and master of his profession, wonders just what might have happened if he hadn't accidentally run across Professor Hull on the street that day 44 years ago. Conceivably, it could have been one of those seemingly minor incidents that changed the course of his life. But of course any such speculation is in the realm of mere fancy; though there is one thing that can be stated for certain - whatever might have become his chosen profession, his brilliance would have left a lasting mark on the field.
Dr. Wolff, before his retirement last year as RCA vice president in charge of research.
Dr. Wolff, in the mid-1930S, making some adjustments on a primitive radar receiver set up on the roof of RCA's Camden, N. J., lab.
The cluttered interior of an RCA test aircraft, containing what was most likely theworld's earliest airborne pulse radar set.
