He doesn't exactly paint a flattering account of his social self in his autobiographies - mostly in his interactions with service staff.
Passionate people who get some limelight may steer on this path. Passionate and humble people don't get their dopamine from other's or they do but to a much lesser extent. They don't crave it as much as the former.
All things said, I don't think Feynman should be judged on his moral values, he never claimed he was a priest or a monk, he loved life and gratification. He was inspiring to others and that is what matters.
I found Richard Feynman very inspiring and I still do.
As I mentioned in another comment, I suspect Feynman had some narcissistic traits, but that does not make me less inspired by his lectures and I don’t see the point of pointing these out in relation to his work directly. The output of his work had a positive influence and that should be held into account.
Another example. I love some of Arthur Clarke’s works and ideas. He was also a pedo guy and he lived and done his dirty deeds in Sri Lanka. Disgusting? yeah, absolutely. Should that make me like his works and ideas less? That is bound to confuse my brains:) so I conveniently compartimentalize his work from other things. And I agree that this personal fact could be mentioned along with his name but his work is a separate thing though
I think with such an accusation you are bound to tell more about what you know. For what its worth I found this: https://www.vice.com/en_ca/article/bjxp5m/we-asked-people-wh...
> I grew up in Sri Lanka.
> Our parents mostly let us do what we wanted, but we were told to stay away—never go near—a large property that bordered my house. When we asked why the reasons were always vague.
> There were some rumors that someone very famous or maybe powerful lived there. We all got the sense that he was ...a danger in some way.
> My grandfather was star struck by the man. Grandpa could barely speak. The two began chatting. The man flattered my grandfather's painting. He said he also liked to paint but only people. The man looked towards me and said let's paint the boy.
> I was placed on a stool in front of the two men. I was eleven years old. Very quickly the neighbour said the clothes were spoiling the beauty of me. He asked me to remove my clothes. I looked at my grandpa and did as I was told. Soon after I was on the stool, naked, and crying. I don't know how long this went on but at some point my father arrived home. He quickly reviewed the scene, saw the man from the property, and...went ..nuts. He just lost it on them: raising his voice. Getting in people's faces. I honestly thought he might kill them both.
> Within a couple of hours my grandfather was gone and they never - ever - spoke again. Although in some circles it was common knowledge, the man from the property was a famous British science fiction novelist. Apparently he had been banished to (then) Ceylon from postwar Britain rather than face prison for being a pederast. I think about that day sometimes. My father didn't have a temper and rarely ever even raised his voice but the man he became in that moment while essentially unrecognizable. While we've had our ups and downs from that moment forward I never questioned his love for me again. Ever. I knew he'd kill for me. I learned how important it is to protect your family and those more vulnerable than you.
My intention was to relate just the relevant parts, but I think I ended up copying more than half of the story.
I don't like that the story does not mention Clarke, considering that Clarke (or rather his public image/legacy) is under attack from it. Dunno if there are legal implications with naming, though.
But also, he was actually supportive/accepting to female scientists when that was not a norm - up to supporting female scientist when under sexist attack.
That part matter too and part of his legacy too.