since the army had a substantial investment in this machine, which they hoped to use for various computational tasks involving the calculation of ballistic trajectories, the military brass thought that Goldstine’s presence in Philadelphia might not only beef up the mathematical talent on hand for the job but also inject a bit of military zip into the slack work attitudes that military men always seem to find in academics.

Upon reaching one end of the platform, Goldstine turned and began to retrace his steps, his head down, deep in reflection on the discussions that day at the Proving Grounds. A noise at the other end of the platform broke into his reverie, and as he glanced up he saw a rather portly figure in a gray, three-piece banker’s suit come onto the platform and begin walking in his direction. Goldstine was startled when he recognized this fellow traveler as the legendary mathematician John von Neumann. He must be on his way to Philadelphia to catch the train back to Princeton, thought Goldstine. Besides the two of them, the platform was deserted. Goldstine wondered if fate had conspired to place von Neumann here at this very moment, since the mathematical problem he had been discussing just an hour ago with his colleagues J. Presper Eckert and John W. Mauchly at the Moore School was the very one he had often wanted to speak to von Neumann about. Goldstine was also curious about the atmosphere at von Neumann’s home institution, the prestigious Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. Following his graduate work in mathematics in Chicago, Goldstine had been offered a position there as assistant to one of the Institute’s other world-famous mathematicians, Marston Morse, before the army stepped in to commandeer his services for the war effort. I’ll never have a better opportunity to speak to von Neumann than now, thought Goldstine. So he nervously approached the great man.

“Excuse me, sir, but aren’t you Professor von Neumann?” asked Goldstine in a timid voice.