EUGENE ARMENT ESCHBACH

Eugene Arment Eschbach, a pioneer innovator and inventor with nearly 50 patents in electrical, mechanical, and nuclear engineering and internationally recognized Fellow of the American Nuclear Society, died on June 16, 2009 at Hope Village Retirement Center near Portland, Oregon. He was 86 years old.


The cause was complications from pneumonia. He had been in declining health for several years. He was preceded in death by his wife, Mary Patricia Schacht Eschbach, in 2004; they were married in 1952 and had six children born and raised in Richland, Washington.


Eugene (Gene) was born April 20, 1923, at a homesteading pioneer ranch near Naches, Washington. Gene was a member of one of the founding Yakima Valley families of the 1800s. He was the middle child of nine children born to his parents, Edward Arment Eschbach and Irene Sandmeyer Eschbach.


It was telling that his birthplace was a pioneer's log cabin without electricity or running water. As a youngster he avidly embraced education and the power of science and technology for useful solutions to mans' problems.


He was encouraged by his teachers in the small rural schools of Naches to throw himself into his interests. Even though his father had only a sixth grade education and his mother a high school graduate, they supported him in his pursuits; even when they couldn't comprehend what he was doing. He was thrilled with Boy Scouts for all the interesting things he learned by the merit badges to become an Eagle Scout.


Early on the science and engineering of electricity and energy were his passion. As a teenager he built the audio system for the dance hall at his family's 1930s recreation destination, Eschbach Park, located on a corner of the homestead ranch. He completed a bachelor's degree in Electrical Engineering at Washington State University where he was coached by some of the fledgling industry pioneers like Clarence Zener and Homer Dana. As an undergrad, he helped solve one of the most urgent and important radio problems of the day being airplanes causing radio noise to their own communications as they flew through the air; this solution was key to an effective air force during World War II. He submitted numerous corrections to the radio textbook series of the electrical engineering titan, Frederick Terman at Stanford University.


He soon went to work during WWII at the RCA Laboratories in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York and did more graduate work in Physics at Princeton University. He was enthralled by work on the cutting-edge issues of the day being radio communications with submarines, radar, television, computers, and solid-state electronics.


While at RCA he was mentored by another of the industry greats, Dr. Lloyd Garner. When not working hard in the lab, Dr. Garner would take his young protegŽs to New York City to enjoy fine food and music at Carnegie Hall. Eugene professed that his love for piano music was kindled by piano concerts at Carnegie Hall where it is alleged that Dr. Garner himself was one of the four hands along with Vladimir Horowitz and others in piano performances.


He also learned one of the formative and harder lessons of life in witnessing the crushing of the brilliant inventor of FM radio, Edwin Armstrong, by the founding RCA mogul, David Sarnoff, who saw FM as a threat to RCA's AM radio dominance. From then on, Gene saw his life as closer to that written about by Sinclair Lewis in Arrowsmith and Ayn Rand in Fountainhead of young brilliant, idealist innovators often struggling against the inertia and ignorance of outdated convention. He looked for new opportunities outside of RCA.


The lure of an even newer and more exciting science at the beginning of the Atomic Age caused Eugene to move from the RCA Labs to the General Electric Labs in the late 1940s. He again threw himself into his work at GE's Hanford Atomic Works in Richland, Washington. It was only supposed to be a temporary assignment that was easy for him since he would have few relocation issues to the isolated deserts of Eastern Washington since was born and raised only miles away. But like many things, he stayed for nearly 50 years. He solved fundamental problems like fuel-rod expansion in atomic piles, deuterium production, and fuel-cycle analysis to optimally load and operate nuclear reactors for different objectives. Since much of his work was classified Top Secret for defense reasons, little was said at home about what he was actually working on; but his public record of nearly 50 patents is attribution to his brilliance and productivity.


When asked why he did not play golf, cards, or join fraternal organizations like many other suburban fathers of the 1950s and 60s, he said his life was more than full by his family and work. Yet there were times of tradeoffs. He was absent at the birth of one of his six children. The crusty old OB asked 'Where is Gene?' Mary replied, 'He's in Washington, D.C., meeting with Admiral Hyman Rickover, designing the future of the nuclear Navy.' The OB's only response was 'Who the hell is Rickover?' The important value of the work was nonetheless acknowledged.


He loved to travel with his family and particularly enjoyed the 1970-71 adventures in Europe experiencing different cultures, histories, and foods. He enjoyed torturing his children (who were mostly capable in working French) by his assertion that since he learned Latin in high school, 'French should be no problem': Pommes Frites (French fries) becoming 'Pommis Fritas' as his favorite gastronomic and linguistic machination to his kids' horror.


Driving the streets of Rome with a single-sheet poor map and speaking no Italian was the definition of sometimes naive intellectual confidence.


When asked about his fondness for driving large black Cadillacs, he responded 'the whole family can comfortably go on a trip, pulling a travel trailer, and not be slowed down by steep hills and strong headwinds'. He was quietly proud that he allegedly held amongst his co-workers the unofficial record for driving his Cadillac from Richland to Battelle's offices in Seattle (250+miles) in well less than three hours. It was a time of sagebrush desert, deserted roads and no radar.


Eugene retired from Hanford (the now Pacific Northwest National Laboratory operated by the Battelle Memorial Institute) in 1995. He moved with his wife Mary to the Portland, Oregon, area to be closer to family in 2000.


Even in retirement he remained active intellectually. He worked on several projects to help with the reorganization of the USSR's nuclear arsenal and atomic powers as the Cold War wound down at the end of the 20th century. He even pioneered with the science department at Richland High School a materials science class that is now recognized in the Pacific Northwest as a key enabler for budding young material scientists.


He will be remembered for his intellectual curiosity, dedication to family, and his magnificently expansive, eclectic and classical sense of humor: in every life, comedy has two intertwined parts mirth and sadness. Eugene was an infinitely complex human with teachable moments of wisdom encapsulated in his many, many aphorisms.


He implicitly endorsed many teenage hair-brained ideas and actions if they were positioned by the wily perpetrators as 'scientific experiments'; his sardonic admonishment was always 'don't burn the house down and don't wake your mother.'


He was infinitely accommodating to diversity of thoughts and actions by all, well before its fashion, in his saying: 'Everyone has the right to stir in their own puddle of mud as long as not splashing on others.' It was a very large umbrella for all.


Eugene believed and was guided with strong intellectual passion and fervor by