April 1, 1970
y 1970, Carl Sagan had abandoned all Earth-based solutions B to his energy quest. He told JFK, “The sun is the obvious source. A gargantuan sphere of burning gas. We can already convert sunlight to energy. We only need to make it more efficient. We’ll move the process—collecting sunlight and converting it to electricity—to an Earth orbit. Now we have to solve the problem of transferring the electricity to Earth.”
“Any ideas on how to do that?” Kennedy asked.
“Billions,” Carl replied.
Through the early 1970s, several teams worked to improve 232
photovoltaic devices (converting sunlight to energy), while Carl and other teams worked on the challenge: transferring electrical energy to Earth. One concept involved converting energy to laser light and beaming it to Earth. A problem with the method, however, was that clouds could diffuse, scatter, or block a laser beam altogether. The breakthrough came when Sagan’s lab in Japan chanced upon a method to polarize a laser beam electrically, making it positive or negative compared to a reference level. An electrically polarized laser beam, by matching the polarity of static electricity stored in clouds, could drill a hole through clouds, although they had to switch the polarity of the beam often to match the varying electrical charges characteristic of clouds.
A young engineering student, Aiji Waki, interning at the Japa-nese lab, was first to make the next, seemingly obvious, connection.
Aiji was awed by the large, round hole the engineers could bore through the clouds once they had tweaked all the laser controls just right. He noticed, however, that the clouds in the near vicinity of the edge of the laser hole were darker, heavier, and thicker than the rest of the cloud formation. It nagged him. He felt he was looking at, but not seeing, something important.
One morning he awoke two hours early, sat upright in his bed, and realized he and his colleagues had been dismissing the issue of what happened to the water vapor displaced by the laser beam. He walked into a meeting the next morning and announced, “Honorable elders, I am Aiji Waki, and I wish to report we can move clouds.” There were scoffs and derision at first, as Aiji began speaking, then nervous laughter. When he finished two minutes later, silence.
Sagan invited Aiji to the U.S. where the two worked night and day for three weeks laying groundwork for the bold new concept.
Upon his return to Japan, Aiji took charge of a new department, before he had even finished his last year of university.
“Interesting,” Kennedy said, when Carl explained the idea to him. “You won’t move much weather though, with a 19-inch laser beam.”
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“Right. We need to produce a very wide, thin beam, and we won’t move anything with a stationary laser either. We’ll try stack-ing a dozen or more of them, with optimum spacing, and create movement on the sending end. We’ll try varying the size, shape, materials and spacing of elements. It’s a place to start. There are other challenges. We’ll need to match cloud polarities that vary from top to bottom. Winds aloft could work with us, or against.”
“You’ll solve those problems. My crystal ball is never wrong.”
Kennedy established a reclusive manner upon leaving the White House in 1969. He appeared in public rarely, and he didn’t give interviews. A one-on-one with the retired president was the most highly prized and oft-solicited interview in the nation. One can imagine Dick Cavett’s surprise when, on Saturday, May 29, 1970, he answered his home phone and found himself speaking directly to the elusive JFK. He thought he might be dreaming when JFK
asked Cavett to interview him the next day, Sunday, at the Kennedy home in Hyannis Port. He readily accepted the invitation, and agreed that the piece would air on the 90 stations of the newly min-ted National Public Radio on the following Tuesday, April 1, 1970, at five minutes past noon.
The edited broadcast lasted one hour. Kennedy’s reminiscences of the past and hopes for the future took up most of the hour. He explained that, through the CASE Foundation, he would spend the coming decades attempting to reduce the causes of human suffer-ing, and elevating the human experience, worldwide. Near the end, Cavett asked JFK about the KCW Act.
Kennedy said the Act was a flexible document designed to streamline the lawmaking process. He said the first impact of the Act was the requirement that lawmakers reside in Washington when Congress was in session, and that other aspects of the Act would emerge over time, as lawmaking, and our nation, matured around it.
They edited the twenty-second gap that followed out of the broadcasted version. In that twenty seconds Cavett, mouth hanging 234
open, stared at Kennedy, and Kennedy stared right back with the best little-boy look of innocence he could muster.
Had they recorded the interview with a movie camera, audiences would have seen Cavett opening his mouth several times as he tried to choose which of a dozen questions he should ask first.
He was no fool. He knew something momentous had just occurred.
He preferred that his next utterance be somewhat more composed than the confusion taking place just then in his mind.
“Ah,” he finally said, “you fell into my trap, Mr. President. You said exactly what I wanted you to say. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all Mr. Cavett. I knew I couldn’t hide anything from you.”
Smiling now, back in his stride, Cavett said, “For the benefit of our listeners, Mr. President, perhaps you could expand a bit on the word ‘requirement’ you just mentioned. I didn’t know the Act required anything of legislators.”
“It’s a minor issue. While Congress is in session The Act requires congressmen and senators to be in Washington from Monday through Friday, 8 AM to 4:30 PM.”
“Really?” Cavett exclaimed, clearly surprised. He swiveled his head from side to side, as if looking for someone who could confirm what he had just heard. “So… So, if a Congressman wants to cut out at noon on Thursday, and return the next Tuesday morning, that would be in violation of the KCW Act?”
Cavett chose those days of the week because he knew the practice was already popular with many legislators. They took advantage of the increasing availability of rapid transportation to spend four days of each week at home, and only three days in Washington. Congress held most votes until midweek for that very reason. It was unbelievable to Cavett that Congress would have approved such a transgression upon the way they structured the timing of service to their country.
“Well,” Kennedy explained, “current legislators may serve out their terms without compliance. The Act becomes effective after the next election cycle. Everyone will know what he or she is signing 235
on for. No one is forced to run.”
“So, you are saying, Mr. President, that six years from now, all legislators will be in Washington full time?”
“Excepting weekends and holidays, of course.”
“Really?” Cavett exclaimed again. “How will that rule be enforced, Mr. President?”
“Salary will be prorated, of course. It’s all spelled out in the Act. A legislator’s absence, along with the reason for the absence, if provided by the legislator, will become part of a legislator’s record, available to the voters.”
“Really?” Cavett exclaimed for the third time, aware of the re-dundancy.
“Yes,” Kennedy said, smiling. “You see, Mr. Cavett, our nation is sharply divided along political party lines, and that division often makes it difficult to accomplish what the voters put us here to do, manage the government of this country. I believe the divide will continue to deepen. In the not-too-distant future the party losing an election will openly declare that its first priority is to oust the winning party in the next election. They will refuse to work toward any common goal, and they will demonize every suggestion from the other party. They will serve only their party, forgetting the people whom they vowed to serve. ‘ Live by the oath taken,’ a wise person once told me, ‘ that is, or should be, the minimum requirement of anyone who takes an oath.’ This nation will face daunting challenges one day, and those whom we elect to address those challenges will be capable only of slinging insults at each other, unless we act now.”
“I see. I suppose that’s certainly possible. How will the dictates of The Act remedy that situation, Mr. President?”
“It creates the opportunity for legislators to know one another, personally. You see, Washington is a small city. If legislators stay in town for the entire session, they’ll eat at the same restaurants, drink at the same bars. They’ll get to know one another. They’ll invite each other to their homes, get to know their families. They’ll stay up late debating the issues or watching a ball game. Instead of 236
a detached group who get together three days a week to yell at each other, many will become friends, and friends are easier to work with. It won’t be absolute. Nothing ever is. It will be sufficient.”
“My, you sound so certain, Mr. President.”
“I am. Do you not concur?”
“No! I mean, yes, I do concur. I think it’s a great idea. I’m only wondering why I’ve heard nothing about this before, Mr. President.
I’m even wondering, does Congress know?”
“Are you suggesting, Mr. Cavett, that the entire U.S. Congress voted on a bill none of them read?”
Cavett stared at Kennedy. His boast earlier, about coercing Kennedy’s statements, had been a joke, a good natured and blatant misstatement to cover his surprise over Kennedy’s explanation of the KCW Act. Now, Cavett understood just who had maneuvered whom.
“Certainly not, Mr. President,” Cavett said. “I’m sure every last man read the entire bill, and would say so, if asked.”
“You’re right, of course.”
Switching gears, Cavett said, “Could I ask you about what you called the flexibility of the KCW Act? And the nation maturing around it, I think you said?”
“I’ve already kept you longer than I promised, Mr. Cavett. Perhaps we should leave that until next time?”
“Next time? I didn’t… Certainly. Ah, when will that be, Mr.
President?”
“I’ll have to get back to you. You will be available, do you think?”
“Of course, Sir. Name the time and place. I’ll be there.” Cavett wished he knew what he’d done to deserve this kind of luck, because he’d surely do more of it.
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Cavett. I’ve enjoyed our chat im-mensely. I should be able to give you more lead time for the rest of them.”
“Rest of them?” Cavett said. They edited that out as well.
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