12 Mercer Street
Memories of Princeton Days
Dr. Gary Straub
March 4, 2022
I passed Einstein’s clapboard residence at #12 Mercer Street daily during Summer school in the 80’s. After Vespers, we’d stroll to Thomas Sweet Shop, always checking his 2nd floor study window which overlooked Princeton University Golf Course and the Seminary grounds. Albert died in ‘55, yet #12 remained virtually untouched. The light in his study still shimmered on…
During Einstein’s Princeton days, no campus tour was complete without spotting everyone’s avuncular Uncle Albert. Most mornings, I jogged thru the grounds of Einstein’s work place—the Institute for Advanced Studies—a gothic-looking castle nestled deep in the Jersey pines. During WWII, Robert Oppenheimer, father of the Atom bomb, presided over a curious gaggle of geniuses & world-class scholars who lived simply in sparse dorms. During their days they brilliantly lectured each other. They also enjoyed the quaint European custom of long leisurely walks, linked arm in arm. These conversations looked intense—scrabbling over obscure controversies amidst the agony of world problems. I never got quite close enough to overhear.
Security guards stationed near walking paths discouraged visitors from interruptions. This gave me a new appreciation of the term “protected speech.” Visitors/gawkers were advised to VACATE Institute grounds at dark; when German Shepherds roamed freely as watchdogs. Serious stuff. Whenever some rock-star scholar was rumored to be in residence, the campus Cone of Silence descended. Campus gossip kept the ‘secret visits’ stirring. Great indoor secret sport. As mere students, we crossed paths w/ celebrity intellectuals ONLY if they dared to bust-in the long line for midnite snacks at the Waa-Waa, located down by the Dinky Train which lumbered to NYC daily. Even 30 years later, a low—key, mystic sort of secrecy enveloped Einstein’s favored haunts. Einstein stories did indeed abound. Legends grew the decade I spent on campus. BTW: disclosure of the disposition of Einstein’s brain became another enigma wrapped in a mystery. Hush! Later!
More widely known were his sightings at the downtown coffee shop. Old-timers claimed Einstein was the avatar of absent-minded professors. He was easily identified by wild hair & his ambling gait. He meandered for miles in the Princeton community. It was not uncommon for him to stop at any residence & ask the owner to ring up the Institute to kindly come fetch him from wherever his daily ramble carried him. He paid no attention to wherever his amble might end up. If he could identify some land mark, a student car was dispensed for his instant rescue and recovery. The town folks looked out for, looked up to, and looked after the good doctor.
Einsteinium lore abounds. My favorite stories. First, following WWII the famous African American singer Marion Anderson was slated to perform in concert at Princeton but was refused a room at Nassau Inn—the only decent place in town to stay. Not to worry—guess where she stayed? #12 Mercer Street! Ever after, she claimed full residence there. Albert’s hospitality arose out of his own experience of refugee days; driven from Hitler’s Germany and exiled to America. His roots were among the few things he never forgot. Second, a legend around Einstein’s E=MC. One afternoon, an elementary school girl marched up to the porch at Mercer Street and rang the bell. Einstein himself answered the door. Undaunted, she politely requested the professor to explain his equation— in words she could understand. He replied to the effect that he could not explain the formula in English, but if she would please come back, say around 4 in the afternoon, he would be happy to play it for her on his violin!
Einstein’s Princeton. We don’t have time for a full tour of the Town Cemetery, where myriad memories of famous souls rest— including Grover Cleveland— the pukka shell President! Hmm… don’t know that one? Well, if you come around another day… say around 4 …?
