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When Economics was published, MIT's group of economists was still very small. If the two specialists in personnel management are excluded, econo­mists in the Department of Economics and Social Science were outnumbered by the psychologists.

However, it had the strong support of the president, Karl Compton, and was poised for expansion? Above all, it was a harmoni­ous department, MIT being free of the anti-Semitism that Samuelson had encountered at Harvard.1 Equally important, it was by now clear that he was considered the star whom they needed to keep, and he will have known full well that this attitude extended to the new president, James Killian. The controversy over the textbook, though it had taken much of Compton's and Killian's time, had not hurt him at all; to the contrary, it had made the institute's two presidents much more aware of his stature within the econo­mics profession. A few years later, when Killian wrote his memoirs, he said of the “one man, recognized by all, who came to personify the quality of the Department”:

So brilliant had Samuelson's record been at Harvard and so imme­diately productive was he at M.I.T. that he soon became a magnet

a. Over the next two years, it would recruit Charles Kindleberger, Morris Edelman, Max Millikan, George Schultz, and Robert Solow.

drawing still other able economists to the Institute, who together were to help build a department famous the world over.2

He was, moreover, in what had during the war become one of the world's preeminent centers for natural science and engineering—an environment in which, after his wartime work, he was a perfect fit. Chicago and Harvard might have their attractions, but MIT was now his home.

Samuelson had also become established within the economics profession. Marks of this recognition had been his appointment, in 1942, to the edito­rial board of Econometrica, and two years later, at the age of twenty-eight, as one of the editors of the American Economic Review.

This latter appointment was for a three-year term, 1944 to 1946, and involved working as one of a group of six, under the management of a managing editor who farmed out the manuscripts and to whom recommendations about publication or rejec­tion had to be sent. He had agreed to take this on the month before starting in the Radiation Laboratory.3

Possibly the reason why he considered this work compatible with other activities was that Paul Homan, the managing editor, reassured him that, as long as the war continued, the flow of manuscripts would remain low and the task would not be onerous.b However, the problems that could arise in such a role were immediately made clear, for Samuelson had to advise Homan on a dispute in which a senior economist at the Brookings Institution, Harold Moulton, had complained that a recent article by McCord Wright, one of Samuelson's friends at Harvard, had questioned his integrity in a way that reflected badly on the editorial process. After rereading both Wright's article and the book by Moulton he had criticized, Samuelson explained to Homan in detail why he did not believe Moulton's charges were justified. But after a demanding start, with three requests to read papers in as many months, Homan's forecast of a low workload proved correct.4 However, Samuelson's few reports amply justify Homan's remark that, at the end of his term, he had never known anyone who performed his duties “so usefully and without stint.”5 Not surprisingly, Samuelson continued to be used by Homan as a referee after his term as editor had ended.

Samuelson's practice as a reviewer is nicely illustrated by his response to a manuscript by the Dutch pioneer of econometric modeling, Jan Tinbergen.6 Though he recommended rejection, he explained in detail why it was important for a journal such as the American Economic Review to

b. For the second of his three years, Homan was replaced by an acting managing editor, Fritz Machlup.

be willing to publish technical papers, even though only a minority of its readers would understand them. Readers could benefit from articles even if they did not fully understand them, and his view, based on systemati­cally reading back issues, was that the articles most widely cited ten or twenty years later were frequently “theoretical and difficult papers which at the time may have seemed formidable and abstract to many readers.”7 He expressed the opinion that the American Economic Review had been so bad because its previous editor had presumed a division of labor, in which the Quarterly Journal of Economics would publish the technical articles. In contrast, the Economic Journal under Edgeworth and Keynes had been so good because it was willing to publish technical papers. Samuelson was, of course, making the case for why the American Economic Review should publish papers such as he often wrote. His reason for recommending rejec­tion of Tinbergen’s paper was that he believed Tinbergen was unaware, presumably owing to living in a German-occupied country, that oth­ers had derived similar results and that the results were wrong in ways that he explained in detail in his review. He recommended passing the article on to Econometrica, even though he doubted it was acceptable for publication there.

No sooner had Samuelson’s term with the American Economic Review ended than he was invited to serve as one of the editors of the Review of Economic Studies, a journal founded in the 1930s by a group of young British econ­omists. This was a more significant role, for he was responsible for being the conduit through which American economists would submit papers. On taking over, he wrote to one of the British editors, Nicholas Kaldor, about the “unbelievable” flood of graduate students in American universi­ties who would soon be trying to publish their work.8 This gave him confi­dence that he would be able to increase the flow of submissions. However, his role involved much more than soliciting manuscripts.

Unlike his work at the American Economic Review, where his role had been to advise Homan and Machlup, he was asked to accept or reject papers by American economists, while Kaldor and Ursula Hicks would decide the European submissions.9,c In practice, the decision making was collective, for Samuelson would consult Hicks about whether an article would be of interest to Europeans, and she would consult him about papers submitted by Europeans. The difficulties involved in duplicating the papers and sending them back and forth may

c. The idea behind this was that this would speed up the decision making because transatlantic mail was much slower then than it is today, even without taking account of email.

seem strange by today's standards, as they frequently discussed papers that only one party had been able to read.

Samuelson's involvement with the Review of Economic Studies was part of an increasing engagement with European economists that became possible with the end of the war. Samuelson was having a stream of European visitors to MIT, and American economists were visiting Europe. For example, John and Ursula Hicks visited the United States at the end of 1946; it was no doubt Samuelson's presence that caused MIT to be part of their “grand tour”; before the war, a European economist visiting Cambridge, Massachusetts, would simply have gone to Harvard. Samuelson told the Cambridge (UK) economist Joan Robinson, who in the 1950s and 1960s would become one of his most regular correspondents as they argued over capital theory, that “we exploited them shamefully—making them perform day and night.”10 He told Ursula that their visit was the high point of the academic year.11

A friendship developed with Ursula Hicks, with whom Samuelson exchanged frequent and often long letters in which they shared news about developments in their two countries. Samuelson passed on news about American economists and who was moving where, as well as about the birth of his second daughter, Margaret.12 He shared with her his relief at getting the textbook off to McGraw-Hill, after spending “an unbeliev­able number of man-hours personally verifying the old age assistance pen­sions in the state of Mississippi and the dates when reserve requirements were changed for central reserve city banks, etc., etc.”13 Hicks reported having entertained Aaron Director and Milton Friedman on their way home from a “wonderful Liberal conference” (where “Liberal” was used in the European sense of those committed to individual liberty) organized by Hayek in Switzerland (the meeting at which the Mont Pelerin Society was formed). “As they were all in 100% agreement to take all controls off immediately,” she wrote, “I don't know quite what there was to discuss.” Samuelson reciprocated with news of Leontief and a colleague going to Salzburg for “a 6-week chautauqua designed to bring American culture to the Central Europeans,” alerting her to the possibility of making contact when they returned through Britain.14 The visit to Europe that Samuelson's leave of absence was to make possible in the fall of 1948 was part of this recreation of a transatlantic community of economists that was to become even closer as the European recovery got under way and as the speed and cost of transatlantic travel plummeted.

As with most American economists, it was Europe that was the most important international connection. However, Samuelson's connections with Japan were also to be very important for him, the crucial link being his close friend from his Harvard days, Shigeto Tsuru. They had completely lost con­tact, but he needed to get in touch because he had been looking after Tsuru's affairs since his abrupt departure from Harvard in 1942.d News came in early 1946 when he attended a talk by John Kenneth Galbraith, who had recently been in Japan. Galbraith told Samuelson that Tsuru “had ceased being a pure Marxian and has entered upon a ‘New Dealer' phase.”15 However, it was not until September that Samuelson learned Tsuru's address from Leontief and wrote to him, explaining that he had tried to be in touch earlier but this had been difficult because people who visited Japan as part of the occupation administration did not stay in one place very long. He had sent a package of books, but it had been returned after spending several months in the western Pacific. Samuelson told the Tsurus of the birth of their daughter, Jane, not­ing that, “Needless to say we are fond and doting parents.”16 He reported on those of their friends who had children, on one divorce, and on developments in Harvard.

Life in Cambridge goes on pretty much the same as always. Harvard now has 300 graduate students and all the courses are very crowded. Haberler, Burbank, Taylor, Chamberlin and all the other professors continue as usual. E. B. Wilson has been retired and Schumpeter, Usher and Black are only a couple of years away from the retirement age.17

Samuelson also explained how the war had affected research in economics.

During the war there was a considerable diminution in economic research except as it referred to war finance and current problems. Consequently most progress was made in the field of Keynesian eco­nomics and fiscal policy. Pretty much everybody who was in active service feels the need to reconvert and catch up.

However salaries in the government are so much better than at universities and the cost of living is up so much that many economists have decided not to return to academic life. (Robert Triffin by the way has gone to work for the Internation[al] Monetary Fund in Washington. He is really a Latin American expert these days. They now have two little boys.)18

Samuelson explained that in 1942, they had tried to collect the money owed to Tsuru, but had been unable to do so. He would try again, for he knew that Tsuru was still owed the money by Harvard and the Coop, and most important, was due a tax refund. Samuelson also told him that he would find “the old janitor on Martin St” to see whether the books were still there. He

d. See chapter 16 this volume. promised to send Tsuru his copies of Kalecki, Ohlin, and Pigou along with books their friends had recently written and a few reprints of his own articles. He had recovered Tsuru’s camera from the U.S. Marshall’s office in Boston, and was intending to take some pictures of Jane with it. Fearing that it was too delicate to post, he asked for advice on how he might send it. He closed by saying that he and Marion often wondered how Shigeto and Masako were getting on, having heard indirectly that Shigeto was writing a book on the United States, and offering to send food: “we shall be making inquiries to see whether we are permitted to send coffee or anything else without a written request.”

However, this letter did not reach Tsuru and was returned to Samuelson. Contact was made only six months later, when Paul and Marion received a letter from Shigeto written in March 1947. Tsuru reported that he had heard much about Samuelson from economists who came to Japan. He picked out Jerome Cornfield, who had described Samuelson’s article on Keynes in Econometrica as “a masterpiece,” motivating him to write to ask for a copy. He described the shortage of economic literature in Japan.

Generally we still suffer from the literary isolation (excepting, of course, the ubiquitous presence of the Time and the Reader’s Digest), especially of the kind I am keenly interested in, namely the academic economic literature. Anything along this line you could get hold of will be infinitely appreciated if you could send them to me. Lange sent me his recent book on Price Flexibility and Mosak his. And I am wondering whatever happened to your own book which I thought you were on the verge of bringing out some years ago. I also would like to obtain a copy of Metzler’s book if it has come out.19

He went on to summarize his own situation:

In my own case, as you may easily imagine, academic pursuits have been shamefully neglected for the past five years. But somehow I am attracted again to that darkest of dark sciences.

This letter reached Samuelson quickly and he immediately replied, on March ιι, sending a copy of the letter he had sent a few months before and reiterating his offer to send “coffee, food, books, or whatever else you might enjoy most.”20 A few weeks later he took the precaution of sending another letter and saying that if Tsuru could send an official power of attorney, he would try to reclaim the money owed him.21 In June he reported that Tsuru’s notes had been found in Leontief’s office, and that they had been mailed to him and that the Leontiefs had sent a parcel of food, but that he had had little success in recovering other books. Haberler had given most of Tsuru’s books to the Widener Library.22 Paul gave the news that Marion was expecting a second child within a few weeks and he sent a photograph of Jane.

Tsuru wrote in September to thank Samuelson for the parcels of books and reprints he had received. The main reason for the delay was his entry into government service as executive chairman of the Program Committee of the Economic Stabilization Board. “This job,” he wrote, “has kept me busy as never before; often I had to sit up three nights in a row with conferences and the translation of documents. Although the goal of stabilization is far from being achieved, routine works of day to day have become somewhat less intense; and I am beginning to find time to catch up on personal affairs.”23 Stabilization of the Japanese economy meant finding a way to reduce infla­tion, which in 1946—47 was running at over 100 percent per annum.24

Reconnecting with Tsuru was to prove important for Samuelson. He and Marion were, personally, very close to Shigeto and Masako, keeping in regular contact and visiting Japan frequently. Tsuru was eventually to trans­late Samuelson’s textbook into Japanese and, crucially, provide a link with Japanese economics that was to be important for both his academic publica­tions and his journalism.

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Source: Backhouse R.E.. Founder of Modern Economics: Paul A. Samuelson: Volume 1: Becoming Samuelson, 1915-1948. Oxford University Press,2017. — 760 p.. 2017
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