In 1909 and 1910 one could scarcely pick up a newspaper that had not carried stories of the incredible mental exploits of William James Sidis, the 11-year-old son of a Harvard psychology professor. Among these feats was the child`s speech to Harvard`s reigning mathematical wizards on the intricacies of the Fourth Dimension. Lasting two hours, the talk astounded the audience not only for its profundity but also for the professional elan with which it was delivered.
This speech was only one of the many astonishing accomplishments of young Sidis. He fascinated his elder contemporaries as much for his learning, which was genuine, as for the gravity with which he expressed himself in his treble voice. That long-ago voice re-echos in Amy Wallace`s ”The Prodigy,” a riveting though much flawed account of Billy Sidis` improbable life. Her tale resonates today when many parents, eager to push their children into the best playschools, kindergartens, grammar and high schools, and, of course, colleges, wonder how to educate them beyond their tiny years.
Wallace`s book is one piece of evidence that the results are likely to be dicey, for Billy, so bright and with a dazzling intellectual future seemingly assured, wound up an adult more interested in collecting streetcar and bus transfers than in using his brain. Nothing came of his life, which is only briefly mentioned in a fairly short notice of his father, Boris, in the
”Dictionary of American Biography.” After his Harvard lecture, Billy gradually became a confused adult, living increasingly out of the mainstream until his death in 1944. Sic transit gloria!
Named for the notable American psychologist and philosopher who watched over his upbringing, William James Sidis was the son of one of the pioneers in modern psychology. Boris Sidis, driven to this country by the Russian pogroms of the late 19th Century, underwent incredible hardships before becoming a Harvard teacher. Along the way he married Sarah Mandelbaum, a star private pupil and like himself, a highly motivated and ambitious person. Billy, their first child–they had a daughter much later–was born April Fools` Day, 1898. From his first days in the crib the infant was taught to be a prodigy. His father dangled letterblocks before his eyes and he knew his alphabet by the time he was six months old.
That was merely the start. At two, the tot could type in English and French, at three he studied advanced mathematics, and at five he wrote a paper on anatomy. This gallop in his education was consistent with the then-held belief that children were small adults and thus capable of tapping their reserves of brain power much earlier than prevailing pedagogical practice suggested.
Billy`s rearing was lovingly done although his mother, according to Wallace, was somewhat more strict than his father. Boris, in fact, believed that children should not be taught to memorize strings of fact but rather should be encouraged to use their brains to reason. He was indulgent with his son, who never seemed to complain about the clippety-clop of his education nor the gap between his intellectual powers and those of his playmates.
It was inevitable that Billy`s unusual abilities caught the attention of the media, and this proved ultimately to be his downfall. As living proof of his father`s psychological theories, the boy was featured in numerous magazine and newspaper stories and he was quizzed constantly by reporters and writers. He could not stand the pressure of public fame such as was generated by his Harvard lecture on the Fourth Dimension.
His father`s fame, which rose in concert with his, ironically multiplied Billy`s woes. Boris, proud of his son, wrote a book explaining his
psychological theories and pointing to Billy as an example of their correctness. This further entrapped the boy in a web of fame that he was emotionally incapable of handling. The weave was tightened when Boris opened one of the country`s first facilities for neurotics, an action that was catnip for inquisitive reporters. Billy, who lived with his family at the institution, was engulfed in the publicity.
Billy was only one of several prodigies in his era. Adolf A. Berle, later to become a business theorist and a New Deal notable, and Norbert Weiner, later the distinguished computer specialist, were two others. They did not fall victims to their preternaturally early learning. The difference between them and Billy seemed chiefly to have been the degree of publicity to which they were exposed.
There have been many prodigies over the years. One can start with Mozart, who exhibited his musical genius as a small child, at the prompting of his father. John Stuart Mill, Thomas Babbington Macauley and Margaret Fuller, the American proto-feminist, are three others who come to mind. Of these only Mill and Macauley led what we might conceive as ”normal” lives. The problem with these, and many others who have been advanced intellectually at an early age, is that they were out of sync with their emotional growth.
Despite the fascinations of Billy Sidis` life, Amy Wallace has not done justice to it. Her book is merely a Sunday supplement chronicle of his life, whereas it might have been an insightful biography, one that explained what made him tick. That`s more the pity because the stuff of Billy`s life involves so many exemplary facets–aspects that are still of great concern to today`s psychologists and parents.
