580 ANNUAL KEPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 19 31 



and the Nobel prize for physics, in 1927, in each case the first granted 

 to an American. Many universities, both American and foreign, hon- 

 ored themselves by bestowing upon him honorary degrees. He was 

 president of the American Physical Society, in 1901-3 ; of the Ameri- 

 can Association for the Advancement of Science, in 1910-11; and of 

 the National Academy of Sciences, in 1923-1927. 



Dates and lists of honors do not really constitute biography ; at the 

 most they form a framework on which may be hung a more or less 

 adequate picture of an individual. No intimate friend of Michelson 

 ever thought of him in terms of high positions or great honors. To 

 me he was like the sea on a summer's day — serene, illimitable, un- 

 fathomable. This was not a superficial impression, for I knew him 

 intimately for more than 25 years. On scores of occasions I played 

 tennis with him and against him; on a larger number of occasions 

 I played billiards with him. I accompanied him to tennis champion- 

 ships, to billiard matches, and once we occupied ring side seats at 

 a professional wrestling match. Often we took lunch together ; many 

 times I called on him in his simple office in Ryerson Laboratory. 



I said that to me Michelson was like a serene sea. He was un- 

 hurried and unfretful. He was never rushed by university duties; 

 he never drove himself to complete a laborious task ; he never feared 

 that science, the university, or mankind was at a critical turning 

 point; he never trembled on the brink of a great discovery. He 

 gave the impression of the serenity of illimitable breadth and un- 

 fathomable depth. Tliough one had a feeling that the depths on 

 occasion might be disturbed by a storm, I never heard him raise his 

 voice above its accustomed level. 



There are doubtless many motives that inspire men to scientific 

 achievements. If I have correctly caught the dominant note of his 

 life, Michelson was moved only by the esthetic enjoyment his work 

 gave him. In everything he did, whether it was work or play, he 

 was an artist. His coordination was so perfect and his touch was so 

 deft that there was more satisfaction in being defeated by him 

 at billiards than in winning from another opponent. I recall with 

 what pleasure Professor Sargent, of the art department, used to 

 watch the gracefulness of his playing. Michelson was an artist also 

 in the more ordinary sense of the word, for he was a skillful amateur 

 performer on the violin and his water colors were a delight. And 

 often at luncheon on the back of a menu card he would sketch the 

 profile of a colleague. But all these expressions of his artistic nature 

 were in private and purely for his own pleasure, and many of his 

 friends were quite unaware that he had these accomplishments. 



Michelson's art was also manifested in his experiments, even in 

 the first experiment he performed, that of measuring the velocity of 

 light as a class demonstration, at Annapolis. With his hastily con- 



