Chapter 2

Mrs. Sheppard was still up at midnight when Paul came in. She was seated at the table going over finances. "You're out late," she said. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry mom; I've been over at Mr. Lawton's. I didn't mean for you to have to stay up late"

"It's OK. How much is he paying you?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Paul said as he sat down at the table across from her. "He's not actually paying me anything." He explained what he and Mr. Lawton were doing.

"Honey, I'm glad you came up with this idea on your own but we need money now."

"I'll have money on Friday," he said.

"How?"

"We're going to rent our laser for $25 a day to the Physics Department at the UF if they agree not to build one for the next 4 weeks. I'll also tell them how we made it. We'll even agree to use UF as the address on the paper. If they agree, their school will get recognition and they will get a head start on research.

If they won't agree, I'll go to FSU and offer them the same deal. At the end of 4 weeks the paper that we're going to write will be published and anyone can make their own until the patent application goes through." Paul was having trouble believing he had said "we" that many times. It hadn't be the royal we, so maybe he really could change.

"Our cut will be $357. That's more money than I can make at any other job. This will also go a long way towards convincing UF to give me a 4 year free ride."

On Thursday Paul parked Mr. Lawton's 1950 Chevy truck in the visitor's parking lot near the Physics Department. He walked into the Physics Department office and asked if he could talk to a member of the faculty.

There were no administrative assistances in the 50s. The secretary looked bored but was polite. She was also familiar with screening faculty from students, especially high school students. Paul wasn't able to get past her.

Well, there was a trick he had learned in graduate school. Paul asked for a catalog of classes and found which faculty member taught optics. He found Dr. Brennan in his office, well shielded by his own secretary. Paul looked for the nearest bathroom, leaned against the wall and waited. Everyone has to go eventually.

About thirty minutes later, a middle age man with graying hair and a look of concentration came out of the office. His white short sleeve shirt and dark grey slacks were wrinkled. He had loosened his thin black tie. He walked straight to the restroom and went in without looking at Paul.

Paul was standing in the middle of the hall and when the man came out. "Dr. Brennan?" Here was the test. Dr. Paul Sheppard would have said nothing and continued into his office. Luckily Dr. Brennan was more polite.

"Yes?"

"I'm Paul Sheppard. Are you familiar with Schawlow and Townes work on light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation?" Paul brandished the hand written copy of the article as if it were a warrant.

"Ah, yes. I think am."

"Would you like to see a working model?"

"A working model? Everyone would like to see a working model," he said. "That's the question, isn't it? Can one really be built?"

"I have one in my truck." Paul let his copy of the article fall to his side and waited.

"I find that very hard to believe. Well, go get it."

"I'll need some help carrying it, it's over 400 pounds," Paul smiled hopefully. "It's mounted on a rail."

"Finally, something my graduate students can do to earn their money," laughed Dr Brennan.

Another thirty minutes and the laser was set up in the lab. "Don't look directly into the beam," Paul warned as the bright red spot appeared on the wall.

"Sweet Jesus, would you look at that," from Dr. Brennan. He had a huge grin on his face. "What is the wave length? What is the transition?"

"I don't know. I suspect it is a neon line but as to the specific transition, I have no idea." Actually Paul knew the transition but couldn't explain how he knew that.

"Is there another gas?"

"That information is proprietary. I have a letter of secrecy which specifies the conditions under which I can share the information with you."

"Let me see the letter." Dr. Brennan put on reading glasses and read the letter. "This shouldn't be a problem but we need to run it by the Chairman and the Dean. Come on, let's get started." Paul had to hurry to keep up.

"Mom, I'm going to stay overnight. Would you please make sure that it is OK for me to keep Mr. Lawton's truck?"

"Of course Paul, is there a problem?"

"No ma'am. I'm staying at Dr. Brennan's house. They want me to give a seminar tomorrow and they will pay me a $50 honorarium. I don't think we have to share that with Mr. Lawton but please have an attorney look at the contract carefully when you get it. I will be giving more seminars." Life was good.

Tuesday Paul bought two pieces of plywood. He borrowed Mr. Lawton's jigsaw and cut out two circles about 3 feet across, beveled the edges, and varnished them. He called Steve.

"Steve. It's Paul."

"Paul who?" he was just playing dumb.

"I've got something that is cool. Let's go to the beach and I'll show you. Oh, you're driving."

His bathing suit was too tight. Paul didn't care much for rap music, but he had loved the adoption of loose fitting clothes by mainstream America; just right for overweight baby boomers, but comfortable even for skinny people. Too bad that it was decades away.

Maybe he could be eccentric.

Once he was famous he could be eccentric without being a social outcast. Then he could cut his hair very short, wear baggy shirts and pants, and wait for running shoes. Just 13 years until real running shoes, until then Red Ball basketball shoes would have to do.

It was a blast, even if the bathing suits were way too tight. If there is a thin film of water on the sand, the board is almost frictionless. You run at full speed, throw down the board, and jump on, one of three things happen: If the water is too deep, you don't go very far. If the sand is dry, you perform a face plant. If the water is just right, you can slide for over a 100 feet. They got home that evening having had a good time. Even though they had no skin on their noses and were rubbed raw by sand in their suits.

Steve was the first friend that Paul had ever had. There had been bosses, associates, and subordinates, but Steve was the first person who treated Paul as an equal and seemed to like Paul. It was a wonderful experience. Now all he need was a girl friend, he thought.

The summer went by fast. The contract had been drawn up, reworded, reworded, and signed. Mr. Lawton was making lasers as fast as he could. He had hired 3 more workers. The lasers were selling for $399 each. Quantum Devices, their company, had 5 patents pending. The patents had been written in broad enough terms so that they would cover virtually any laser until the advent of semi-conductor lasers. Since light emitting diodes had yet to be invented, it was a moot point.

Paul had published two papers, one with Mr. Lawton and one with Dr. Brennan. Both were in the same issue of Physical Review Letters and he was primary author on both papers. Paul had given two more lectures; one at Georgia Tech and one at FSU. He had received a $100 honorarium plus expenses for both. One hundred dollars was decent money in 1957. That was more than a house payment for most folks in 1957.

Paul was able to convince his mother and school board to let him skip a grade. He would be a senior this year. School work would be way too easy and boring. He was going to ask his Trigonometry teacher and Physics teacher to let him work at his own pace using college texts. Problem solving was fun as long as he didn't need to go at the pace of the slowest student. He had never learned Spanish so he would this year. English was English and Civics was Civics, there was no way to getting out of them. He though about taking Debate but he was afraid of slipping into his old habits. That is what he had done this summer.

While he had treated others better than the first time. Except for Steve, he was closer to Mr. Lawton and Dr. Brennan than he was to people his own age. Steve was in college and Paul had no close friends. It had to stop. He spoke with his mother and Mr. Lawton, and explained his vision of Quantum Devices.

They would not be manufacturers. After the initial novelty wore off, QD should concentrate on licensing technology. His mother could quit her other job and work for QD. Mr. Lawton could too once royalties started coming in. He would probably have to. Someone had to enforce the patents. Mr. Lawton could hire someone or do it himself. Once the potential uses of lasers became clear, they could talk about selling the patent rights for big money.

Paul's involvement would drop to less than 5 hours a week and he would become a teenager. He didn't word it quite like that, but that was his plan. School would start soon and he had been too busy to find a girl friend. That became his number one priority when school started. Steve, Emmy, Ava, and most others he had gotten to know left for college in the fall. He needed new friends.

There were fights at school every day. No one got suspended for fighting in the 50s because the fights were always after school. Integration and busing would change the rules but this was the Deep South and integration was almost 10 years away. With busing you couldn't wait around until after school. Paul hadn't thought anything of segregation his first time. That's just the way the world was. He hadn't hate blacks any more than he hated everyone else, he just hadn't thought about them. Looking at it now it was clear that segregation just plain stupid. Paul couldn't do any thing about it. Palatka, Florida was a hot bed of Klan activity and they really were crazy.

Paul kept a smile on his face in the hallways. He spoke to people that he knew and made eye-contact with those he didn't, especially the girls. Most of the girls would quickly look away. It was surprising that some of them blushed as they did. Now that was interesting.

Life was good.

At lunch he saw one of the girls who had blushed sitting with another girl. He walked over and asked "Do you mind if I join you."

Ann Griffin blushed again. Her best friend, Rachel Stevens answered for her, "Sure," she said as she introduced them. Ann had short red hair and cute freckles on her nose. She looked like an athlete but in 1957 girls didn't get a chance to be athletes. She was wearing bobby socks, saddle shoes, a full red skirt hemmed below her knees, a pink blouse, and a blue scarf around her neck. She looked good.

Rachel was not nearly as pretty but not bad looking in a tight pleated grey plaid skirt with a white blouse, loafers, and silver charm bracelet. Rachel's dark hair that was piled up on top of her head, not quiet a beehive but close. It was going to be embarrassing when she looked back in her yearbook as an adult.

"I'm Paul Sheppard. I know it's an odd question but do I know either of you?"

"You might know me," said Rachel, "but not well."

"And you Ann?"

Ann wanted to know Paul. She had wanted him to ask her out last year but he had ignored her. He was different this year. Now she really wanted him to ask her out. "Not really. Have you gotten much of you memory back?"

"No not yet. The doctors say it's been long enough so I probably won't."

"That's terrible, I don't know what I would do," said Ann.

"It's not that bad. It's a good excuse to talk to pretty girls." Ann blushed again and Rachel smiled.

Paul and Ann had Trigonometry and Physics together. Rachel wasn't in either class. As they walked to class Paul listen to Ann talk about what she had done during the summer. Paul was struck by how short she was; not more the 5 feet. She said that she had spent most of her summer with her horses. Paul admitted he knew nothing about horses other then they ate hay.

"Come over sometime and I'll teach you to ride," she said looking at the floor. She blushed again.

"I'd love to. Maybe sometime after school this week?"

"OK."

Paul remembered Miss Dillard, the Civics teacher. He had hated her the first time around and was probably going to this time. She was as condescending as a person could be. It didn't matter if she were speaking to a student or a parent. Hmm, did he see himself in her? She was nit-picking when she graded papers. Miss Dillard didn't care if Paul understood the underlying principles; he must memorize obscure facts that would escape his memory within a month. Remember what the Bill of Rights said? No! Memorize who signed the Declaration of Independence.

Paul's memory was outstanding; he didn't suffer as much as the other poor bastards in the class did. She insisted that a student's writing be perfect but she drew little hearts over her "i"s on the board. The final straw? Being female was worth an extra 10 points. Paul loathed her.

Most of his teachers were good teachers. Mr. Brown was great. Paul enjoyed watching him teach. The way he could pull all the students into the discussion, the way he encouraged both good students and bad. The dramatic flair he used to start a new topic. Mr. Brown's class was a joy to be in. He would need to find a way to get through Miss Dillard's class or he was headed for trouble.

That afternoon Paul did two things that he had been planning. He got a haircut and he bought a used Harley-Davidson S-125. The motorcycle would breakdown frequently but at least it gave him some mobility. He bought two helmets. They thought he was crazy. No one wore a helmet on a motorcycle.