Prof

by Dermot Turing

  One can introduce U, a substance which represents a ‘growth dimension’ e.g. the radius of the sphere, and V an alien invader-chemical which is anti-growth, a sort of poisoning factor. One then sets up the diffusion equations for the state of affairs in the single cell as regards these two substances. It is assumed that V will diffuse uniformly into the cell.

  The starting point is therefore the two equations:

  V = (2), the mean value over the sphere.

  The mathematics hereafter becomes very complicated and very long. It can be found in great detail in some 30 pages in the thesis ‘Morphogenesis of Radiolaria’, written by the author. Given a solution for U, it is necessary to discover what three-dimensional shape this produces. This is not an easy thing to do when one not only needs to know where the spines are on the sphere but also the diameter of the sphere and the length of the spines which protrude therefrom. Here the computer played a role.

  The computer involved, the Ferranti MARK 1, had no visual display output facilities, but only a very primitive line-printer restricted to numerical and alphabetic characters. So it was decided to use that printer to print contour maps of the surface.

  The contour maps predicted the position of spines on six- and 12-spined Radiolaria species. There was still more to discover in the field of botany as well. Alan Turing was also working on a new project: an outline of the development of the daisy. The daisy is like a sunflower: the yellow bit in the middle is in fact made up of hundreds of little florets, arranged in spirals. The florets have to be packed in, and the morphogen equations might explain how the arrangements come about.

  Samples from the wonderful ooze. Examples of Radiolaria drawn by Ernst Haeckel show how weird the creatures can be.

  A contour map. Output from the Manchester computer in base 32 digits, less significant digit first, indicates levels of chemical intensity and can be converted into a map.

  God’s holy pantomime

  On 11 February 1954 Alan Turing made his will. There were to be pecuniary legacies for the family and for Mrs Clayton, his housekeeper; Robin Gandy was to get his papers, and the estate was otherwise to be split five ways, between Mother, Robin, Nick Furbank, David Champernowne and Neville Johnson.

  To his friends and neighbours he seemed to be in good spirits, and he was beginning to work on something new and highly ambitious.

  Dear Robin,

  It’s a long time since I’ve heard from you. Have you got yourself a boy or something? Or are you writing out your consistency proof?

  I’ve been trying to invent a new Quantum Mechanics but it won’t really work. How about coming here next week end and making it work for me?

  Yours

  Alan

  I’m getting slightly hetero, but it’s fearfully dull.1

  In March 1954 Alan sent Robin Gandy a set of postcards, each containing epigrammatic and whimsical ‘Messages from the Unseen World’. They were a bit like treasure-hunt clues. Numbers I and II have not survived, but here are the rest:

  III The Universe is the interior of the Light Cone of the Creation

  IV Science is a Differential Equation. Religion is a Boundary Condition

  V Hyperboloids of wondrous Light

  Rolling for aye through Space and Time

  Harbour those Waves which somehow might

  Play out God’s holy pantomime

  VI Particles are founts

  VII Charge arg of character of a 2 π notation

  VIII The Exclusion Principle is laid down purely for the benefit of the electrons themselves, who might be corrupted1 (and become dragons or demons) if allowed to associate too freely.

  On Monday 7 June 1954, on a wet Whitsun weekend, and without warning, Alan Turing died.

  During the Whitsun holiday [wrote John, Alan’s brother], I had taken one of my daughters to the cinema and arrived home about 10.30 p.m. In my absence the Manchester police had telephoned to say that Alan had been found dead in his house. Late as it was I telephoned to the ever kindly and shrewd Mr. G., who promised to meet me at the station in Manchester the next morning. He took me to the police and thence we went to the mortuary where I identified Alan’s body. He had taken cyanide. By great good fortune my mother was on holiday in Italy and did not return home until after the inquest.

  The date for the inquest had been set with remarkable haste. The note of the phone call which came through while John was at the cinema late on Tuesday shows that the inquest was due to take place on Thursday, only two days later. But the unseemly haste might have been a blessing:

  Mr. G. advised me strongly not to instruct Counsel to appear at the inquest and told me of the unhappy course which some other cases had taken before this coroner, a retired doctor who could not abide lawyers. The possibility of establishing death by accident was minimal; the best we could hope for was the considerate verdict of ‘balance of mind disturbed’. He was right and I accepted his advice. At the inquest itself this soon became apparent: there were present some eight or nine reporters, some from the national press, with pencils poised and waiting for the homosexual revelations. They were disappointed. I gave evidence briefly. The coroner asked me a few perfunctory questions. The verdict was as anticipated.

  Sara Turing was in Italy, and John Turing was at the cinema, when news of Alan’s death reached Guildford, only 36 hours before the inquest was due to take place.

  In 1954 self-murder was still a crime, and the newspapers of the time even report cases of afflicted persons who were on trial for having attempted to commit suicide. Criminal suicide could have lasting legal consequences, such as invalidating a life insurance policy. But if the deceased person had killed himself while the balance of his mind was disturbed, then it was not a criminal act. The ‘unhappy course’ referred to by Mr. G. was this: instead of the hoped-for verdict of accident, the case would go the other way, and Alan would be found to have committed a ‘felo de se’. This, together with the risk of revelations feared by John, would have escalated the family’s grief to nightmare proportions.

  The third book

  The inquest had not closed the door on the publicity problem, and Mother was already on her way back.

  MOTHER OF ‘BRAIN’ EXPERT FLIES HOME

  EVENING NEWS REPORTER

  MRS. TURING, mother of Dr. Alan Mathison Turing, the mechanical brain expert, who was found dead in bed at his home in Adlington Road, Wilmslow, is believed to be flying back from Italy where she was spending a holiday.

  An inquest was being held at Wilmslow to-day.

  Dr. Turing, who was 41, was a reader in the theory of computing at Manchester University and was regarded as a brilliant mathematician. […] The ‘brain’ which he played such a big part in developing was capable of carrying out more calculations in a day than the average man can do in a lifetime.

  As usual there was a long report in the Alderley and Wilmslow Advertiser:

  SCIENTIST FOUND DEAD ON BED, HAD TAKEN CYANIDE

  A FINDING that Dr. Alan Mathison Turing (41), of Hollymeade, Adlington Road, Wilmslow, committed suicide by taking poison while the balance of his mind was disturbed, was recorded at the Wilmslow inquest on Thursday, last week.

  Dr. Turing, of Manchester University, was a reader in the theory of computing, and set the problems for the electronic brain.

  Mrs Eliza Clayton, Mount Pleasant, Lacey Green, Wilmslow, a daily housekeeper, said she last saw Dr. Turing alive on June 3, when he appeared to be in his usual health. On Tuesday, she went to the house at about five o’clock in the afternoon and saw a light burning in the bedroom, which was unusual. She entered the house and found Dr. Turing lying dead on his bed. The clothes were pulled up to his face and there was froth over his mouth.

  George Williamson Gibson said he saw the doctor either on Saturday evening or Sunday dressed in shirt sleeves and grey pullover – ‘his usual untidy appearance.’ He knew the doctor by sight but had not spoken to him beyond ‘good morning.’

  Sergeant L. Cottrell said that
Dr. Turing was lying on the bed with the clothes pulled towards his chest. There was a white frothy liquid about the mouth with a faint smell of bitter almonds. On a table at the side of the bed was half an apple from the side of which several bites had been taken.

  Dr. C. A. K. Bird, a Macclesfield pathologist, who had conducted a post mortem examination, said death was caused by asphyxia due to cyanide poisoning.

  A man of Dr. Turing’s knowledge could not have swallowed some of the contents without knowing what would happen. He did not think death could have been accidental, and thought the apple was used to take away some of the taste.

  There were also reports in the Daily Express (‘He fed the “brain”’), Daily Dispatch (‘Did own cooking’), and a handful of other local papers, but mercifully none of the feared revelations. The Daily Telegraph carried a full report, describing the findings in Alan’s home laboratory:

  WIRES FROM LIGHT

  A small adjoining room had been used for electrical experiments. ‘Connected with the light from the centre of the ceiling were two wires connected to a transformer, which was on the table,’ [Police Sergeant Cottrell] said. ‘On this table was a cooking pan with a double container in the centre. One contained a liquid and the centre container a black substance.

  ‘Two electrical wires led to the pan, one connected with the handle and the other with the black substance,’ he said. ‘The contents of the pan were bubbling and there was a strong smell of bitter almonds.’

  In a jam jar he found a liquid which also smelt strongly of bitter almonds. In another room he found a small bottle labelled ‘Poison: Potassium Cyanide.’

  Dr. C. A. K. Bird, pathologist, of Macclesfield, said the jar contained cyanide solution. Referring to the electrical apparatus, he said: ‘I did not quite understand what it was for. There was some electrolysis going on.’ POISON DISSOLVED

  Replying to the Coroner, he said he thought Dr Turing had dissolved the poison in water, possibly for the purpose of more easily ingesting it.

  The Coroner: You are satisfied that this was not an accidental inhalation of cyanide fumes? – Yes, it must have been swallowed.

  Dr. Bird added that he thought it probable the apple was to take away the taste.

  John was searching for explanations as well. He was less worried about the amateur chemistry than what Mother would find out on her return:

  In those unhappy days in Manchester I visited Alan’s psychiatrist who told me a great deal about Alan that I did not know before – among other things that he loathed his mother. I refused to believe it. He then handed me two exercise books in which Alan had entered such matters as psychiatrists require of their patients, including their dreams. ‘You had better take them away and read them,’ he said, adding that there was a third book, probably in Alan’s house.

  I viewed the two books in my hotel with horror but I was still bent on proving the accident theory and decided I had better read them. I wish I had not. His comments on his mother were scarifying. I returned the books to the psychiatrist the following day.

  There remained the problem of the third book for it was essential that it should be found so that it would not fall into my mother’s hands.

  There is little in the record to indicate the actual relationship between Alan and his mother after Julius Turing’s death in 1947. Only two letters to Mother for this seven-year period were preserved. One is a typewritten letter (surely Sara would have disapproved of him using a typewriter; Alan’s handwriting was no excuse for that kind of social lapse) of January 1952, in which Alan barely veils his exasperation with Mother’s plans following a generous bequest when Aunt Sibyl had died. The other is from January 1954, about whether a Ministry of Supply document left by Alan at Mother’s house was secret. There is nothing of a remotely private nature. It remains unknown to what extent Sara may have selected what should go into the archive. Her assertion, backed up by the forces marshalled by John to minimise her pain, was that all was sunny and open between them.

  Now Sara Turing was heading for Manchester, in grief and shock, and in dismay at the perfunctory inquest. The evidence pointed one way, but the full facts could only make things worse for her. John put his energy into co-opting all those he could find, including Alan’s own solicitors, into the cover story of an accident.

  The post-mortem report.

  CROFTON, CRAVEN & CO.

  SOLICITORS.

  17th June 1954

  Dear Turing,

  A.M. Turing Deceased.

  Many thanks for your letter of the 15th instant. I obtained a key from the police yesterday and made a further search of the house and am quite satisfied that there are no documents left which may cause us any anxiety.

  The mathematical books etc. are in a trunk in the lounge and Furbank and Gandy are going to the house this weekend when I expect they will arrange to remove it all. […] There are a number of books on the shelf which were awarded to Alan as prizes which your mother may also like to have. I handed to Furbank the O.B.E. medal and a seal (which I think may be a family seal) and suggested that he should hand these over to Mrs. Turing. I cannot trace the ‘third book’ which you mention but I have not yet spoken to Dr. Greenbaum about it.

  Yours sincerely,

  W.N. Cookson

  Confidential

  21st June, 1954

  Dear Cookson,

  I am glad to be able to tell you that my mother had decided to prolong her stay with Mrs. Newman in Cambridge, and I understand that she will be going to stay with Dr. and Mrs. Greenbaum on Friday or Saturday of this week. I think by this means she should be spared most of the publicity which I understand is still active in the local papers circulating in Wilmslow.

  I have the greatest confidence in Dr. Greenbaum, but I could wish that my mother had not decided to go and stay with him, as I feel certain that she will cross examine him very thoroughly and this will be of no advantage to anybody.

  Shortly after my return home I spoke to Dr. Greenbaum on the telephone and I feel confident that I told him of the impressions that my mother had formed about the cause of my brother’s death. I should, however, be obliged if you would speak privately to Dr. Greenbaum again on this subject stressing that my mother has persuaded herself that it was an accident.

  Yours sincerely,

  J.F. Turing

  CLEGG (WILMSLOW) LTD.

  Funeral Directors.

  23 June 1954

  Dear Mr Turing,

  This morning I visited various newsagents, and have found the posters in question have been removed. I have also acquainted the Police with your desires, concerning your brother’s death and I think I can count on their co-operation in this matter, should your dear mother call upon them. I have also spoken to the manager of our local paper requesting them to help to back up the theory of misadventure; so I trust no unfortunate conversation will reach the ears of Mrs Turing, whilst in Wilmslow and district.

  Sincerely yours,

  A J Killick

  It wasn’t just that the papers might harp on about the suicide verdict; the possibility of ‘revelations’ was still live. And there was still the problem of the missing exercise book in which Alan had exposed his soul.

  CROFTON, CRAVEN & CO.

  SOLICITORS.

  June 1954

  Dear Turing,

  I have your letters of the 21st and 24th instant. I have been in touch with Dr. Greenbaum and have mentioned your mother’s visit and he fully appreciates the position and I think we may rely upon his discretion in the matter. He referred to the paper in which the man Roy is mentioned and I have told him that I can show him the papers in my possession if he can arrange to call at the office. […]

  Page 18 of the Newman family visitors’ book for 1954, showing visits from Alan Turing in April and his mother in June.

  30th June 1954

  Dear Turing,

  A.M. Turing Deceased.

  I to-day had a call from Mr. Gandy and you will be pleased to hear tha
t he found the missing book which I have arranged for him to hand to Dr. Greenbaum. […] I have looked up the file of papers again but the man there concerned was Arnold Murray. I have not come across the name ‘Roy’ but I am having a further search through the papers in readiness for Dr. Greenbaum’s call.

  Yours truly,

  W.M. Cookson

  The ‘man Roy’ remains a mystery. The efforts of Mr Killick to suppress the local papers in preparation for Sara Turing’s visit seem to have succeeded. What Mr Cookson and Dr Greenbaum had discovered still remains unclear. Whether there is a clue here to the last days of Alan’s life is difficult to say.

  Unending inquiry

  Much has been written on the difficult subject of Alan’s death. Criticism has been levelled at the legal process, the unlikely speed with which the inquest was convened and concluded, and the thinness of the evidence heard by the coroner. Some have seen in all this an apparent readiness of John to exclude embarrassing evidence from the inquest, but there hadn’t been time. Some of the other criticisms may be valid, and the actions to help Mother cloud the picture. The possibility that Alan did not commit suicide deserved full consideration, but it’s unclear that a fuller examination would have helped anyone come to terms with what had happened.

  First, there is a rather dotty theory that Alan was murdered. This seems to be based on a statement in the pathologist’s report of the post-mortem examination. Completing the pre-printed form, the pathologist said:

  THE CAUSE OF DEATH AS SHOWN BY THE EXAMINATION APPEARS TO BE: Asphyxia, due to Cyanide poisoning. Death appeared to be due to violence.