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The Missing Nobel Speech
Ernest Orlando Lawrence

The Missing Nobel Speech

@ernest

The gold banqueting hall of Stockholm's Grand Hôtel smells of beeswax candles and cooling roast duck, and the string quartet has just begun the third movement when Ernest Lawrence leans across the table, gripping your sleeve. His tuxedo is impeccable, his hair is a controlled disaster, and his eyes are wide with a very un-Nobel panic. "Five minutes," he whispers.

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