Childhood anxiety on LI about Oppenheimer's bomb

As a member of the first generation to grow up in the shadow of the atomic bomb, I found that the new film about J. Robert Oppenheimer brought back memories of my childhood in the late 1940s and the 1950s on Long Island.

There was a constant awareness and fear of nuclear war when I attended elementary and middle public schools in Great Neck. In contrast, there was surprisingly little awareness or fear in New Mexico, where I spent summers during those years and for decades afterward, about 60 miles from Los Alamos where Oppenheimer had helped develop the bomb. 

As schoolchildren in Great Neck, we experienced ongoing psychological fallout from the threat of a possible attack. We took part in “duck and cover” drills that made us crouch under desks, kneel, and tuck our heads. We listened to sirens and saw photos and diagrams of shelters that could be constructed in our backyards or basements. But these steps would not have saved our lives. They gave us only the illusion of protection, which we sensed on some level.

We were warned that living close to Manhattan put us at constant risk. Troubled by anxiety, we wondered whether our world was going to be destroyed at any time. The threat of nuclear destruction of our tree-lined streets and playgrounds was always present.

Our angst was fueled regularly by stories like the one in Newsday on Sept. 26, 1950 that informed us that “Nassau’s civil defenses were bolstered on two fronts today as plans were being drafted for the evacuation of schoolkids in case of an A-bomb attack …”

On the other hand, vacationing fairly close to Los Alamos, I rarely heard anyone speak about the threat of nuclear war as we were not near a population center. Oppenheimer’s name was barely mentioned. He had rented and then purchased a rustic cabin in the wilderness mountains above the village of Pecos near our regular family vacation spot about 30 miles from Santa Fe. I often rode on horseback past that isolated cabin, which Oppenheimer used as a retreat.

It was years before I knew who he was. Had I known at age eight or 10, I might have looked at his cabin with the ambivalence that came later. Though he helped shorten the war, he developed a weapon that could destroy humankind.

Hardly anybody in northern New Mexico, even decades after the 1945 Trinity test, spoke about any danger in our area even though the test occurred in the desert about 225 miles from Santa Fe.

Now, however, a recently released study led by Princeton University's Program on Science and Global Security found that in the first 10 days after the Trinity test, Santa Fe and nearby surroundings, including Pecos, were downwind from the site and in fact experienced significant radiation fallout. In light of these findings, suddenly it seems possible that a young mother I knew who died of cancer in the 1950s after living for years in Los Alamos was a victim of the test.

The simple truth is that people must be able to rely on public officials for factual information. It is sobering to be reminded of that now, decades after taking the lesson to heart as a student in Great Neck at the dawn of the nuclear age.

This guest essay reflects the views of John S. Friedman, a professor of American studies/media and communications at SUNY Old Westbury.