Scientist's violent death shocks cold fusion research network
Eugene Mallove, one of cold fusion's most ardent advocates, was overjoyed in April when the US Department of Energy agreed to give the scorned subject another review. To him, it was a breakthrough: Years of work trying to get mainstream science to pay attention to cold fusion seemed to be paying off.
But a month later, on May 14, Mallove was dead, brutally murdered at his childhood home in Norwich, Conn,
Police, who have not yet made an arrest in the murder, have no evidence Mallove's cold fusion work contributed to his death -- they believe it was an act of random violence. To still-reeling friends, family, and colleagues, however, Mallove's death was particularly cruel because he was so optimistic that cold fusion was finally going to get its just review.
''My father was so passionate about doing what he felt was right (even though) everywhere he turned doors were shut in his face," said his daughter Kimberlyn Woodard. She used to affectionately call her father the ''mad scientist" for the experiments he always had going in their home's basement. ''He was a brilliant man, he could have worked anywhere he chose and he gave that up because of the possibility there was something to cold fusion," she said.
Mallove, 56, a Massachusetts Institute of Technology graduate, was chief science writer at MIT when the cold fusion debacle exploded in 1989. Skeptical at first, he soon became a believer and grew increasingly frustrated with the scientific establishment's refusal to reexamine cold fusion. Finally, in 1991, he quit, disgusted with what he saw as mainstream scientists' unwillingness to look seriously at cold fusion.
Although Mallove had a master's degree from MIT and a doctorate from Harvard University, he rejected many aspects of mainstream science after quitting MIT and dedicated his life to publicizing the cold fusion field. He wrote a book, ''Fire from Ice," about the cold fusion episode and founded a New Hampshire-based magazine called Infinite Energy, focused on research related to cold fusion and other new energy sources. He wrote dozens of articles, essays, and papers and was well known around Pembroke, N.H., for his van's cold fusion decals and license plate INF-N-R-G, named after his magazine. He also ran the New Energy Foundation, backed by a wealthy anonymous benefactor that supported new kinds of energy research.
Money was always a struggle for Mallove. But he rejected the 9-to-5 science world -- refusing a ''humdrum" life, according to his now-grown son, Ethan, and he morally couldn't turn his back on cold fusion and the clean energy it promised. Mallove would spend hours patiently explaining cold fusion to people who had never heard of it, and friends say he was one of the most curious and kind people they had ever met. In the last few months before he died, as he celebrated the birth of his first grandchild, Mallove earned his real estate license to help with expenses.
''My father once said on the radio the arrogance of the scientific establishment was mind-boggling," said Ethan Mallove. ''It was disappointment after disappointment, but he was endlessly optimistic and there was no giving up."
Police found Mallove's body badly beaten at a family home that he rented out. He died of injuries to his neck and head. While conspiracy theories made the rounds on the Web, police believe the motive was most likely robbery. Mallove's Dodge Caravan van was found in an employee parking lot at Foxwoods Casino, a 15-minute drive away. Police say they are still waiting on lab results to make an arrest.
''It was important to my father that you keep an open mind to things and don't shut the door," said Woodard. ''He could never understand why there were these possibilities and no one looked at them. It wouldn't have hurt and it could only help."
BETH DALEY
