Here are three lessons I learned from reading *The Devil in the White City,* a book on the construction of the Chicago World’s Fair (juxtaposed with a suave, murderous criminal), on human psychology and project management.

## 1. You will always be compared to what came before

Four short years before the Chicago World’s Fair, the French had their turn. At the Paris exhibition of 1889, they unveiled the Eiffel Tower–a majestic display of creativity and ingenuity.

America’s pride was hurt. Everyone in America thought they were the most creative and ingenious country. To be outshone by the French was an embarrassment. Chicago would help reignite its spirits.

But trying to “out Eiffel the Eiffel,” as the goal came be to known, would not be easy.

Chicago had to either beat the extravagance of the tower or be humiliated, bringing disgrace and shame upon America.

An interview in the *Chicago Tribune* captures the consensus at the time:

> The most marvelous exhibit of modern times or ancient times has now just closed successfully at Paris. Whatever you do is to be compared with that. If you equal it you have made a success. If you surpass it you have made a triumph.

If you fall below it you will be help responsibly by the whole America people for having assumed what you are not equal to.
>

**Lesson:** **If you try to imitate something that people have already experienced, you can’t just “build a taller tower.”** Your product, your offering, your service, has to be as new and unique as anything that came before, lest it just be compared to just trying to build a taller tower in a race to “out Eiffel the Eiffel.”

Chicago’s big unveiling was the Ferris Wheel. It was something so different and new that it captured people’s imagination in a unique way. The Eiffel Tower, though it was still an amazing feat of architecture, didn’t spin 2,000 people around in a circle. Chicago had successfully out Eiffled the Eiffel.

## 2. Simple and done well is better than extravagant and rushed

Rain was a menace to the fair. It would wash away the wet paint on buildings and ornate plants of the landscape that were already in the ground.

Frederick Olmstead, the chief architect of the fair, gave sound advice to his crew:

> Do not lay out to do anything in the way of decorative planting that you shall not be quite certain that you will have ample time and means to perfect of its kind. There be can little fault found with simple, neat turf. Do not be afraid of undecorated, smooth surfaces.
>

**Lesson: When a deadline is looming, do the best you can with the time you have, and don't overcommit.** There's nothing wrong with simple.

A good plan done well is better than a great plan done poorly.

## 3. When creating a scene or display, every detail matters

Olmstead, the landscape architect, insisted on not having steamboats on the fair’s waterways, even though they would be more efficient.

He wrote:

> Put in the waters unbecoming boats and the effect would be utterly disgusting, destroying the value of what would otherwise be the most valuable original feature of this Exposition.
>

**Lesson: Small details have a big impact. When they're done right, they create an extravagant scene. When ignored, they ruin it.**

Sometimes, you have to bite the bullet and spend more, or take the less efficient route, to create a great atmosphere or product.

Compliment this with my [book notes from ***********Devil in the White City](https://www.dltn.io/posts/devil-in-the-white-city)* or the founding President of Stanford’s [thoughts on education, politics, and life](https://www.dltn.io/posts/david-starr-jordan-on-life-education-and-politics).


Lessons learned from reading about the construction of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair.

3 Lessons on Human Psychology and Project Management

“If someone can just tell me how to catch up [to the Soviets in the space race],” John F. Kennedy thundered to a room full of space advisors. “Let’s find somebody–anybody. I don’t care if it’s the janitor over there, if he knows.”

The tense meeting came after the Russian cosmonaut, [Yuri Gagarin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuri_Gagarin), became the first person in history to orbit Earth. This latest accolade for the Soviet Union was another blow to America’s trepidatious attitude towards the space program. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen that week. Five days later, the [disastrous Bay of Pigs](https://www.thenewsherald.com/2021/04/18/bay-of-pigs-was-jfks-responsibility/#:~:text=U.S.%20involvement%20in%20the%20Bay,Pigs%20and%20took%20complete%20blame) invasion kicked off. Though Eisenhower planned it, he was no longer in office and the nation needed someone to blame. Kennedy became that someone.

For Kennedy, the answer for America’s next greatest feat had always been to go up. Space was the end all be all of the Cold War. Whoever could get the furthest in space, the quickest, Kennedy believed, would win the Cold War.

After Gagarin became the first man to orbit earth, Kennedy and his administration changed their approach to conquering the eternal sky. No longer could America entertain a tit-for-tat pattern with the Soviet Union. Instead, as Kennedy wrote to a Princeton student, America needed to Leapfrog the Soviet Union. And leapfrog they would.

Spaceflight in America was still young at the time. Before the Second World War broke out, [Robert Goddard](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_H._Goddard) became the first real rocketeer in America. His experiments with liquid-fueled rockets proved they were the way forward. Unfortunately, Goddard was one of many who passed on before they could witness their innovations come true.

Goddard’s research, however, influenced a young engineer in Germany who used Goddard’s work as a foundation to build the [V-2 rocket](https://airandspace.si.edu/collection-objects/missile-surface-surface-v-2-4/nasm_A19600342000#:~:text=The%20V%2D2%20rocket%2C%20developed,fuel%20rockets%20and%20launch%20vehicles): the deadliest weapon used in WW2 against Britain. Unbeknownst to the engineer, Werner von Braun, his design for the V-2 would lay the groundwork for the eventual Saturn V, the rocket that landed two young astronauts on the moon in 1969.

Von Braun and a host of other brilliant German scientists and engineers were brought to America through [Operation Paperclip](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Paperclip), a covert plan to bring the most intelligent German minds to America at the end of WW2. The operation, originally called Operation Overcast, changed its monicker to Operation Paperclip after a security breach. The name was derived from the paperclips military officers would fasten to the folders of the Nazi experts they chose to hire.

Werner von Braun and John F. Kennedy became two backbone figures of the Space Race. Their journey, along with all the drama and political woes of the early 1960s is chronicled in *[American Moonshot: John F. Kennedy and The Great Space Race](https://www.amazon.com/American-Moonshot-Kennedy-Great-Space/dp/006265506X)* by Douglas Brinkley. In the words of a *Kirkus* review of the book:

> [This book is a] look back at the days when American presidents and politicians believed in and promoted science—days when there was a world to win, along with the heavens.
> 

The first part of the book is a mini-biography of John F. Kennedy. Brinkley writes about JFK’s childhood, his family life, and his time spent in the Navy. Kennedy’s character is slowly transformed from a party boy to a diplomatic statesman (though the parties never stopped). Paralleled with Kennedy’s life is a brief account of the history of rockets and Werner von Braun’s journey from Nazi engineer to the head of a rocket lab in Huntsville, Alabama.

Once Kennedy gets elected, Brinkley does a magnificent job pulling conversations, reports, scientific facts, and the general consensus at the time all together to paint a full picture of what was going on in America and around the world.

It’s unclear if Kennedy would have put such emphasis on a literal moonshot were it not for the times. Kennedy loved space, yes, and he was enamored with it. But asking for $40 billion from the American people wasn’t something that happened often. Would he have been as brave as to do so without the pressure of the Cold War? Brinkley doesn’t state the answer explicitly, but it can be implied. He cared less about space and more about winning the Cold War and proving to the world that America was the best. This doesn’t diminish his efforts one bit but casts them in an interesting light.

There was one conversation with James Webb, the NASA administrator, that gives a peak behind Kennedy’s motives. In September of 1963, Kennedy and Webb had a private conversation in the White House and you can hear the trepidation and regret in Kennedy’s voice about making “the moonshot” his grand plan.

**Kennedy:** “Do you think the lunar, the manned landing on the moon, is a good idea?”

**Webb:** “Yes, sir, I do.”

…

**Kennedy:** “If I get reelected, I’m not–we’re not– go[ing] to the moon in my–in our period are we?”

**Webb:** “No.”

**Kennedy** (Brinkley notes that his voice is slightly sulky): “We’re not going…yeah.”

…

**Kennedy:** “Why should one spend that kind of dough to put a man on the moon?”

**Kennedy** (Answering his own question): But it seems to me…we’ve got to wrap around in this country, a military use for what we’re doing and spending in space. If we don’t it does look like a stunt.”

Though some in America saw Kennedy’s ambitions for space as a waste of money and time, such as the former president Dwight D. Eisenhower, who Brinkley wrote, “continued to snipe that ‘anybody who would spend $40 billion in a race to the moon for national prestige is nuts,” the majority were inspired by the grand ambition, even though everyone knew money would be required in hefty amounts. A phrase repeated throughout the book is “No bucks, no Buck Rogers.”

But aside from the Eisenhower administration's plans for incremental innovation and a small company named NASA that wasn’t quite sure who to listen to, Kennedy didn’t have much to go on when he took office. His presidency would be a continuous act of spinning plates between Kruschev and the Cold War, working with Lyndon B. Johnson to lobby congress for an ever-increasing pool of funds, and deciding just how ambitious America should be in trying to win the space race. The rewards were high, sure, but so were the risks, and no one let Kennedy forget that. Brinkley writes about the warning Eisenhower’s former science advisor spooked Kennedy with by saying “NASA wasn’t ready for manned space, and that if a Mercury astronaut were prematurely launched on a Redstone rocket, the attempted suborbital flight would be ‘the most expensive funeral man has ever had.’”

Thankfully, the warning didn’t deter Kennedy and the rest of America. JFK, his administration, NASA, James Webb, the Navy, and countless private companies worked together throughout a heyday of technical innovation, budgetary restrictions, and threats of war, to eventually put a man on the moon.

If you’re hoping to read a detailed account of the scientific and technical breakthroughs NASA achieved for the moonshot, this book is not the one. Though the beginning had interesting anecdotes about rockets, the majority of the book is about the political side of the space race and John F. Kennedy. Though interesting and I’m glad I read it, it lacks the technical bravado I was hoping for. That said, it’s a masterclass on power, influence, and Cold War politics.

Not Long Ago in a Galaxy Not Very Far

A descriptor of what's going on in the world today.

Book Review and Summary: Revolt of the Public

I chose to read a 500+ page biography on a strange renaissance artist because, [much like Einstein](https://www.daltonmabery.com/essays/albert-einstein), I was fascinated with how he approached the world through curiosity. I read Isaacson's biography of [Einstein](https://www.daltonmabery.com/book-notes/einstein-his-life-and-universe) first, and he made comments about how da Vinci's life was filled with even more wonder and curiosity than Einstein's, and I wanted to know how, what that was like, and how I can do the same.

It turns out it's simple: Never complete what you say you're going to and spend years perfecting every intricate detail of your work. Easy, right?

Joke aside, da Vinci was infamous for not completing most of his commissions (more on that later) and was also known for spending hours perfecting the stroke of a tiny rock in the background that the normal layman would probably never see. But this isn't what made him so intelligent and wise in a broad array of fields. Oh no. That, he can thank his "relentless curiosity" for. His goal in life, above being an amazing painter, war machine architect, or city designer, was to know "everything there was to know about the world." Although he didn't quite get there, it wasn't for a lack of trying.

✓

How did da Vinci's life start?
------------------------------

Being born out of wedlock in 1400s Italy didn't leave a lot of options for the son of a multi-generation notary. It was custom in that day for the sons of tradesmen to acquire the skills of the father, but da Vinci didn't have that luxury since he was illegitimate. That fact also made it very difficult to engage in proper schooling, which da Vinci lacked. Most people would attempt to use this as a crutch against him later in life. But to him, it was a strength. What he did didn't require *words* but *experience*, which he learned early on how to become an apprentice of. Da Vinci, going against the typical image of the "Renaissance Man" that loved acquiring knowledge and wisdom from lost work, once wrote:

> He who has access to the fountain does not go to the water jar.

As he matured though, it became clear that knowledge is neither all experience or past wisdom, but a combination of both.

Though da Vinci lacked education in the traditional sense, he did attend an abacus school to learn useful skills in math and commerce. It was here that he learned the value of thinking about subjects through analogies and patterns, which became "for him a rudimentary method of theorizing."

It was after, where he got an apprenticeship in [Verrocchio's workshop](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrea_del_Verrocchio), that his true genius began to shine.

On da Vinci's art
-----------------

One critique I have with the book is that Isaacson doesn't go into much detail about how da Vinci got into the different paths of life. Nevertheless we know da Vinci became an apprentice of Andrea del Verrocchio (1435 - 1488) at about 14 years old, but it seems he was mostly a natural.

The first painting da Vinci worked on with Verrocchio was *[The Baptism of Christ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Baptism_of_Christ_%28Verrocchio_and_Leonardo%29)*. It's believed he worked on the leftmost angel because of its soft facial features, which the other subjects in the painting are not graced with.

Being a disciple of experience, da Vinci noticed when he looked at something in real life, it wasn't obvious where one object ended and another began, like it is so often painted in pictures. It's hard to describe what he saw, but he didn't think there should be a harsh boundary between different objects in paintings. This lead him to embrace a painting technique called *[sfumato](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sfumato)*. The word, derived from the Italian word for smoke, *fumo*, can be roughly translated to "soft, vague, or blurred." It makes the painting look very airy and kind of smashed together.

This was just one example of da Vinci's acute observational skills represented in his paintings. He wrote in a notebook:

> If you wish to have a sound knowledge of the forms of objects, begin with the details of them, and do not go on to the second step until you have the first well fixed in memory.

The genius of Da Vinci isn't realized in his incredible observational skills about how the world works though. Instead, it was realized in his ability to make those observations appear on a canvas. This was the true genius.

When he had an idea for a new painting, he would think about what type of social setting and emotion the piece should illustrate. When he got his answer, he would go to the places that held that type of emotion and observe how people behave, how their bodies are positioned, and what their faces look like. Then, "he noted it in a little book which he was always carrying on his belt." But da Vinci didn't just recreate that scene on a canvas. He used that as a starting point in reality and would add imagination and fantasy to make the painting truly come alive. Isaacson notes:

> Leonardo wove an argument that was integral to understanding his genius: that true creativity involves the ability to combine observation with imagination, thereby blurring the border between reality and fantasy

Leonardo's artistic genius is undoubted, but his business suave could have been a bit better. He seemed to get by okay, but was never truly rich because he couldn't finish most of the pieces he was commissioned to do. There's no *real* reason why this happened, but there are some hypothesis.

One hypothesis is that *what could be* excited Leonardo much more than *what was*. He got so excited about an idea when he thought of it that he abandoned everything else he was working on. This cycle just continued. Isaacson wrote, "he was a genius undisciplined by diligence."

Another example could be that da Vinci wasn't about "the grind." He preferred to work very little and follow his curiosity about the world instead. This was found in one of his notebooks:

> Men of loft genius sometimes accomplish the most when they work the least, for their minds are occupied with their ideas and the perfection of their conceptions, to which they afterwards give form.

Another reason he may have not been able to finish paintings, was because his ideas were so close to reality, they could never be pulled off to the degree of perfection Leonardo expected of himself. So, he got as far as he could on some paintings and then just stopped. He didn't like to finish pieces because he would inevitably learn a new technique or fact about how a body should be positioned that he could use to make the piece better. To him, nothing was more beautiful than representing Nature like it ought to be represented:

> Though human ingenuity may make various inventions it will never devise an invention more beautiful, more simple, more direct than does Nature; because in her inventions nothing is lacking and nothing is superfluous.

An example of this relentless perfectionism can be seen by examining *St. Jerome in the Wilderness.* This painting was done in two phases: the first being in 1480 when he started the painting and the second being in 1510. Under infrared analysis of the painting, one can see there were dual neck muscles and other parts added in 1510 that were not part of the original drawing. The muscles and parts added seem to align with the anatomical discoveries da Vinci was making through his autopsies (coming soon). This implied he started the painting in 1480, but then changed it *30 years later* to add small neck muscles that he didn't know existed before. His perfectionism was a virtue, but it was also his vice.

So back to the autopsies. Da Vinci was so much a disciple of experience that he dissected some 300+ bodies throughout his lifetime. This wasn't some crazy fantasy for him though, he wanted to understand the layout of the human body so he knew which muscles moved which body parts. He also did a detailed analysis of the skull and brain.

He made very, very detailed drawings of his work and debated with himself about writing a treatise on the anatomy of the human body. He discovered things about how the body works centuries before someone would make the "real" discovery. But because Leonardo didn't have the organizational skills, drive, or desire to publish many of his writings or drawings, he didn't get credit for them until they were discovered.

Lesson: Be more curious
-----------------------

Da Vinci never intended to be a famous painter and artist, he simply went about his life as he thought he should and had some lucky breaks along the way. So even though he didn't intend for his life to come under a microscope 500 years later, there is one thing we can learn when we do so: **to observe and be curious about the little things in life more often**.

Isaacson writes:

> I did learn from Leonardo how a desire to marvel about the world that we encounter each day can make each moment of our lives richer.

He continued:

> Yes, he was a genius: wildly imaginative, passionately curious, and creative across multiple disciplines. His genius was based on skills we can aspire to improve in ourselves, such as curiosity and intense observation.

If we look at Leonardo for a thesis on how to approach life, he might say to do so "with a sense of curiosity and an appreciation for its infinite wonders."

That, Mr. da Vinci, I will strive to do.

Being a genius is simple: Never complete what you say you're going to and spend years perfecting every intricate detail of your work. Easy, right?

Book Review: da Vinci

When it comes to our ideas and mindsets, we're one of three personalities.

We're either a preacher, a prosecutor, or a politician.

Preacher mode comes out when our long-held, sacred beliefs are in jeopardy. We preach elegant messages and illustrations to protect and promote our precious ideas.

Prosecutor mode reveals itself when we see mishaps, flaws, or illogical thinking in someone else's argument. We do everything we can to prove them wrong and win our case.

Finally we all become "influential" politicians when we're trying to win over a crowd or an audience. We flash a smile, crack some jokes (or laugh at their corny jokes), all in hopes they will choose our idea to start thinking.

## The Danger

But there's danger in each of these. As Adam Grant puts it in the book, "**The risk is that we become so wrapped up in preaching that we're right, prosecuting others who are wrong, and politicking for support that we don't bother to rethink our own views."**

Once we choose how to think of something, we often stick to that mindset no matter the evidence that presented to us.

So instead of being a stupid "P", Grant proposes we need to all be scientists. Don't worry, you don't have to quit your job and go buy a white lab coat, although you could. Instead, being a scientist means to search for truth, embrace evidence that seems to differ from your current position, and run experiments and tests to discover what the world holds beyond the views you've held for the past twenty years.

If you change your mind in preacher mode, it's a sure sign of weakness. But in scientist mode, it shows you have intellectual integrity.

But what if we're in scientist mode, have the data and research, but can't get other people to change their mind. Then what do we do?

<Callout title="Note" Content={Note, there are times when preaching and prosecuting make the argument stronger. Grant puts it this way, "Research suggests that the effectiveness of these approaches hinges on three key factors: how much people care about the issue, how open they are to our particular argument, and how strong-willed they are in general"} />

Through an incredible story about how Steve Jobs was first resistant to creating the iPhone, Grant demonstrates there is power in arguing what will stay the same. Change is scary. People might think if things are going well in the moment, why change what we're doing now? But when you affirm what's going to stay the same through this change, they're more open to hearing and enacting your idea. They realize, "Oh, not that much is *actually* changing. A,B,C, and D are all staying the same, we're just changing E. Sure, let's try it."

## Counterfactual Thinking

If reinforcing what will stay the same won't help, you could try leading them down a path to imagine a world in which their lives circumstances would have unfolded differently. This is what psychologists call "Counterfactual thinking."

It's easy to forget how influential things like where we were born, who raised us, or where we went to school can be on our thinking. If you can successfully get someone to understand how easy they might have held different initial opinions or stereotypes, they might be much more willing to change their view.

If you're in a heated debate, argument, or conflict at work (or elsewhere), it can helpful to ask, "What evidence would change you mind?" Because sometimes, that answer is nothing. And that's okay. I don't know about you, but I'd rather know that before I spend hours investing in trying to do so.

## The Confident Impostor

I played baseball for 15 years as a child (My goal was to play in college, but I had other plans I guess.)

No matter where we played or who we played against, there was always the teammate or parent on the bleachers who thought they could do a better job of coaching the time than the actual coach. Sometimes they honestly might have been able to, there weren't many requirements for being a baseball coach in travel ball. But most of the time, they weren't.

That's what's called the armchair quarterback. The parent or fan who thinks they know how to do a better job than the actual coach. Armchair quarterbacks confidence exceeds competence.

On the other end of the spectrum is the imposter syndrome. This is a bit more common than the armchair quarterback but people who have imposter syndrome's competence exceeds their confidence. They are actually really good at what they do, but don't believe in themselves enough or don't want others to think they are good.

Obviously either end of that spectrum is negative. If your confidence exceeds your competence, you're just a jerk. But if you're competence exceeds your confidence, you won't get anything done and no one will trust you. So the ideal amount of confidence lies somewhere in the middle. Your competence and your confidence need to be in sync. You have to be confident in your ability to achieve a goal in the future, yet humble enough to question whether you have the right tools or you're the right person for the job.

It's when someone *lacks* skills in a certain area that they're afraid to ask for help or for someone else to do it. When someone tries and forces them to change their mind, they just double down. If that person is leading your team, you're headed straight for a nose dive that ends in a fiery crash.

Humility is a reflective lens: It helps us see weaknesses clearly. Confident humility is a corrective lens: it enables us to overcome those weaknesses.

## You Are Not Your Ideas

When we think we know better than someone else, it's not just the armchair quarterback doing all that work by themselves. He's got a teammate and that teammate is the totalitarian ego.

The totalitarian ego is like a mini-dictator living inside your head, sitting right next to that pesky little armchair quarterback. Their job is to control the facts that flow into our heads, swatting down anything that disproves our hypothesis about a topic.

This happens in a two-step process:

First, the opinions that we hold are shielded in "filter bubbles." These filter bubbles get bigger and bigger with the more information that *proves* our opinion; and with the bubble grows the ego.

Once these opinions are reinforced by enough confirming data, they're sealed behind an impenetrable safe that forms an echo chamber of information  only saying what we want it to say. Sound familiar?

There's only one cure to this totalitarian ego and it comes from Daniel Kahneman -- detachment.

As a psychologist, Kahneman doesn't go a day without thinking of a new, weakly held opinion. But also as a psychologist, his job is to look at the studies, interpret the data, and see if his hypothesis was right. And if it wasn't, change it. The only way he's able have so many fleeting ideas is that he refuses to let his beliefs become apart of his identity.

One practical way to go about this tomorrow is whenever you form a new idea, opinion, or hypothesis about how something works, ask yourself, "What would have to happen to prove this false?"

When it comes to our ideas and mindsets, we're one of three personalities: the preacher, the prosecutor, or the politician.

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