The genius who lives downstairs

I worked with Simon for a bit, but he was so far ahead, and our fields were sufficiently far apart, that I never really got to know him. This article captures much of what he is like.

I remember his kibbitzes when playing backgammon. Frequently they used terms or phrases that didn't seem to make sense, but later as the game unfolded and he carried on his line of thought things would become clear. Did he see them early? Did he see them more clearly? Hard to say. He rarely actually played, so it was difficult to tell if he was good.

I also remember when a member of the department had to get from Cambridge to Leeds (I think) and both the trains and the National Express coaches were on strike. Simon, from memory, wrote out a timetable that got Tom from Cambridge to Leeds in one (very long) day using purely local bus services.

And I remember watching Simon, Conway and Parker working on the Atlas. The interplay was amazing. Parker wrote programs to work efficiently on what were then unimaginably huge data structures, Conway seemed to see the structure and make friends with it, and Simon did the calculations in the abstract algebraic space.

I liked Simon, but I never really got to know him. It's a waste that no one has worked out how to make the most of his truly amazing, and deeply unusual, abilities.

I really do hope he's happy.

Nice read. Some excerpts:

Francis Norton, Simon's middle brother, works in a shop called SJ Phillips, the oldest family-run antique jewellery business in the world. It's because Francis keeps the family firm alive and profitable that Simon has never had to have a job or a mortgage and, despite using 17 different variants of bus, train and visitor-attraction discount cards, doesn't actually need a single one of them.

Simon is so close to a satisfying stereotype: the famous mathematician with electrified hair living in indescribable mess; the fallen and lonely genius. Yet every time you try to pin categories like these on him he steps firmly aside: he's not crazy, there's nothing tragic about him, his life is full of purpose.

To my mind, Simon has achieved something else that is truly important – perhaps even more so than genius. There goes a happy man.

So he has money without working and therefore doesn't have to conform merely to survive, no one understands how he gets his jollies and almost everyone tries to judge him in some negative fashion. To quote Madonna: "I'm not your bitch. Don't hang your shit on me."

I'm glad he is happy. Really glad. I've seen enough complaints about how miserable it is to be smart. It's practically a trope.