Even more than most years, 2022 sometimes seemed to be a pileup of celebrity misbehavior, a time when famous narcissists stumbled or trolled their way into the spotlight. In 1933, The New Yorker profiled a figure who eschewed public notice—and drew admiration for doing so. “He had been almost a recluse,” The New Yorker’s Alva Johnston wrote, of Albert Einstein. “His contacts had been with quiet, scholarly men of his own type, and his sudden glory appalled him. Interviewers, photographers, lion-hunters, cause-promoters, testimonial-seekers, and reflected-glory chasers of every kind came swarming into his life.” And yet Einstein, despite his objections, also thrived as a household name, his resistance to attention only generating more of it. Johnston, who had won a Pulitzer Prize a decade earlier for his coverage of a science convention, also devotes the two-part Profile to matters of substance, including Einstein’s theory of relativity and his political activism—an increasingly high-stakes endeavor following the Nazis’ rise to power in Germany, earlier that year. Nine decades later, Einstein’s legacy centers more on his intellectual achievements than his media-friendly eccentricities—just as it should. His fame, in hindsight, reflects something flattering about the culture and interests of the public at the time. “The Einstein theory,” Johnston writes, “is almost as great a landmark in sociology as in astronomy or physics; it revealed in the man in the street an unsuspected craving to get his teeth into the red meat of science.” |
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