He Should Be Alive Today

Alan Turing, who was born 100 years ago on June 23, 1912, might not have invented the computer. (That honor goes to Charles Babbage and Lord Byron's daughter.) But today’s computing would be unthinkable without the contributions of the British mathematician, who laid down the foundations of computer science, broke Nazi codes that helped win World War II at the famous Bletchley Park, created a secure speech encryption system, made major contributions to logic and philosophy, and even invented the concept of Artificial Intelligence. But he was also an eccentric and troubled man who was persecuted (and prosecuted) for being gay, a tragedy that contributed to his suicide just short of the age of 42 when he died of cyanide poisoning, possibly from a half-eaten apple found by his side. He is hailed today as one of the great originators of our computing age.

In 1959, four years after Alan Turing’s suicide just shy of the age of 42, his mother Sara published her biography Alan M. Turing. Shortly after, his elder brother John began his own alternative account, seeking to “put the record straight” and correct any inaccuracies or biases in his mother’s version. Although he worked on the essay throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, John declined to release the account until after his mother’s death, and ultimately left it unpublished in his private papers. It was found in a drawer by his son John Dermot Turing, and finally included as part of the re-release of Alan M. Turing, in celebration of the centenary of his birth. The following is adapted from the book:

My brother Alan was born on 21* June 1912 in a London nursing home. At this, and at all other times, my father took all decisions of consequence in the family. Now, rightly or wrongly, he decided that he and my mother should return alone to India, leaving both children with foster parents in England. Alan and I were left with “the Wards”—always we referred to them as “the Wards.” We were the wards and they were our guardians but no matter—this was to be the centre of our existence for many years and our home from home. I believe it was here, perhaps in the first four or five years at the Wards, perhaps even in the first two, that Alan became destined for a homosexual. Has anyone mentioned it until now?

No. My mother was fully aware of it before Alan’s death (not, I imagine, that she had the faintest idea of what it implied), but she makes no reference to it in her book. One can put that down to Edwardian reticence if one pleases. In my view, based on such conversation as I had with my mother about it, necessarily reduced to a minimum, her reaction was much what one might expect if a specialist had informed her that her son was color blind or had an incurable obsession with spiders: it was a nasty shock of brief duration and of no great significance. I am trying to make this memoir as truthful as I can, so I will not go to the length of pretending that I like homosexuals. To my mind, what is intolerable is the world of the “gay crusade” and, as my unfortunate brother may be cast in the part of an early and valiant crusader, this is by no means an irrelevant comment.

My mother, perhaps unwittingly, gives the impression in her book that she recognized Alan’s genius from the start, and that she sedulously fostered it. If so, she did not give that impression in the family at the time; in fact, quite the contrary.

‘Alan M. Turing: Centenary Edition’ by Sara Turing. 194 pp. Cambridge University Press. $30. (Kings College, University of Cambridge)

My father, on the whole, either ignored my brother’s eccentricities, or viewed them with amused tolerance but (as will appear) there were deep dudgeons when Alan started to accumulate appalling school reports at Sherborne. As for myself, with the selfishness of youth, and separated by a gap of four years, I did not care what Alan did, and I was content to go my own way, as indeed he was content to go his. Our interests were so dissimilar that they never clashed. The only person in the household who was forever exasperated with Alan, constantly nagging him about his dirty habits, his slovenliness, his clothes and his offhand manners (and much else, most of it with good reason) was my mother. If this was due to some early recognition of his genius, she was certainly doing nothing to foster it by trying to press him into a conventional mould. Needless to say, she achieved nothing by it except a dogged determination on Alan’s part to remain as unconventional as possible. The truth of the matter, as I now view it in retrospect, is that neither of Alan’s parents or his brother had the faintest idea that this tiresome, eccentric and obstinate small boy was a budding genius. The business burst upon us soon after he went to Sherborne. After a few terms, it became apparent that he was far ahead of the other boys in mathematics: when Alan was sixteen, the maths master told my mother that there was nothing more that he could teach him and he would have to progress from there on his own. I think it must have been when Alan was due to take the School Certificate examination (now replaced by “O” levels) that he read Hamlet in the holidays. My father was delighted when Alan placed the volume on the floor and remarked “Well, there’s one line I like in this play.” My father could already see a burgeoning interest in English literature. But his hopes were dashed when Alan replied that he was referring to the final stage direction (Exeunt, bearing off the bodies).

LeBron James finally gets it

For a long time, LeBron James had it easy. And that's what made it so hard.

The NBA hadn't really seen a player with such a mix of talent, size and a willingness to being the ultimate team player. So much of this was natural. Not just James' athleticism, either. James had a personality that made him want to be well-liked by his teammates, not just by the public.

Those are the ingredients of a champion. And they were identified early and coveted by every team in the league.

Now James has finally reached that pedestal after nine long years of trying. No one thought it would take this long, especially James himself.

For years, James' career had been all about potential and the mostly stress-free rewards of acclaim, fame and cash. Then something changed -- potential gave way to expectation, and it was a blow to James' ego and a reputation he was both unprepared for and slow to accept. That burden and the relief from it was what made lifting the Larry O'Brien Trophy on Thursday night so liberating.

James didn't just have to learn the hard way, he had to be hurt the hard way: in front of everyone. He didn't just have to grow up as a player, he had to do it with millions breaking down his mistakes. It created one of the most fascinating and polarizing plots in history, an arc that finally reached a climax with the Miami Heat's NBA Finals victory over the Oklahoma City Thunder.

"I just think it's a normal process that, not just LeBron, but anybody has to do to learn to be a champion," said Mike Krzyzewski, James' coach for Team USA. "But in LeBron's case, because he's recognized as one of the great players, he had to learn out in the open. And so a great player will get criticized as he's learning."

When James first made the Finals, with the Cleveland Cavaliers in 2007, it was received with commendation, even though he'd played terribly by his standards as the Cavs were swept by the San Antonio Spurs. At age 22, he was ahead of the curve, and excitement surrounded future trips to the Finals. In one of the more memorable moments of James' early career, he was embraced by Tim Duncan in a hallway after Duncan had won his fourth title.

Holding the O'Brien trophy in one arm and with the other around James, Duncan whispered into James' ear: "Some day the league is going to belong to you."

As James walked away from the Finals that night, he did so with a smile at the thought of that. The warm blanket of potential serves as a shell that deflects criticism. This turned out to be fleeting.

"A lot of people said we were the worst team to ever make the Finals and LeBron really used that as motivation," said Golden State Warriors assistant coach Mike Malone, who coached James as an assistant with the Cavs for five years. "He went out and made himself an MVP after that; he really worked on his game. But it still felt like a tease because he could see where he wanted to go, but we just couldn't get there."

Twice in Cleveland, after he'd won MVP awards, James played on teams seeded No. 1 in the playoffs. These teams were different than the overmatched team of '07. The Cavs' payroll spiked to $100 million as they brought in teammates for him, players such as Mo Williamsand Antawn Jamison and Shaquille O'Neal. The Cavs were not loaded with All-Stars, but they didn't have to be -- the MVP was supposed to carry the group just as he'd done before, back when it was all about potential.

Now there was demand. But he wouldn't reach the Finals again with the Cavaliers.

When he went to the Heat, it was to join two of the best players of his day, the sort of stars he never had with him in Cleveland. But when he walked away from the Finals again in 2011 without a title, even with the help of Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh, no one dared think about potential. The last scraps of potential for James were buried in the two-day period in July 2010 when he announced his decision to sign with the Heat and then projected the number of championships he planned to win into a microphone the next night.

Now, all was expectation. That embrace is much colder. It wasn't just the expectations of the basketball-viewing public and his sponsors and his new teammates. It was the expectations that James had placed on his own shoulders with his words and his actions. Even if James could take back the line that stays attached to him like a tattoo -- "Not one, not two ... " -- the expectations would be smothering to him.

"When he went to Miami, I sent him a text and told him that this was going to be the hardest thing he's tried to do in his life," said Paul Silas, who coached James for two seasons in Cleveland. "I think he thought it might be easy. And they might have had it all as a team. But he was still going to have to put them on his shoulders, and it took him a while to understand that."

James' understanding of how tough it was going to be was stunted by emotional bruises. After a poor playoff series against the Boston Celtics in 2010, he deflected its effects by saying, "I spoil a lot of people with my play." When it happened again last year on a higher-profile stage in the Finals against the Dallas Mavericks, James again snapped back at the consequences of living with expectations.