Abstract
On Shakespeare's stage. the rattle of thunder framed the comings and goings of princes. Other heralds bracket the years of this story: the rattle o f choppers crossing the Parrot's Beak, and stirring the sand at Desert One. But in Cambridge, such distant cues are masked by the nearer cacophony of commuters and scholarly discourse; here a shy little man stood astride the world of theory for half a century. He responded to everything, near and distant, in the same manner: in his own time, in his own roundabout way, with the inborn assurance of a compass needle centering on true north.
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