Want some π?

Written By Ian Richardson

You’ve heard the expression "legislating morality," but how about "legislating geometry"?

Well in 1897 that’s almost what the Indiana General Assembly did! Not just by solving the ancient math riddle of “squaring a circle,” but by attempting to codify a mathematical error into state law. This is the tale of Dr. Edward J. Goodwin, a fellow who didn’t just think he discovered a new value for Pi (spoiler: it wasn’t 3.14); he was wanting to copyright his “discovery” and charge everyone else who used it a royalty for doing so.

The bill even passed the House of Representatives 67-0. Yeah, you read that correctly.

Before you go blaming the politicians of today, take a deep breath. (Yes, I know they might try something this absurd, it’s not that big a stretch.) Today we are digging through the archives to see how such absurdity managed to make it to the Statehouse floor - and how a quick-thinking Purdue Professor saved Indiana from the worst mathematical embarrassment in history.

Dr. Edward J. Goodwin: Physician, not Mathematician

Before Dr. Goodwin became the man who tried rewriting geometry. He was just a local physician in Spiceland, Indiana. He spent his days practicing medicine for the community. However, his nights were spent obsessed with what he called, “the solution to the quadrature of the circle.”

He was no professor of mathematics, nor a mathematician. He was an amateur with a flair for the dramatic. He honestly believed he had cracked a problem that had stumped the greatest minds in history for centuries. Yet, instead of seeking peer review, he saw dollar signs. Goodwin was convinced that if he could get the Indiana General Assembly to pass his “discovery” into law. He could use that to legitimize his claims, allowing him to charge royalty fees to anyone who used his method.

I would consider that a classic example of what happens when unearned confidence meets the political process. It also serves as a stark reminder of why we need to make sure the people writing our laws actually understand the subject matter at hand.

Professor C. A. Waldo, from the 1899 Purdue yearbook.

By Unknown author

Enter Our Savior: Professor Clarence A. Waldo

Just as this mathematical farce looked destined to become law, a hero arrived at the Indiana Statehouse in the form of Professor Clarence A. Waldo of Purdue University. Waldo wasn’t there to police the legislature’s geometry homework; he was actually in town to secure funding for his university.

As the story goes, a legislator handed Waldo the bill and suggested he read it to see if he could learn something new. Waldo reportedly replied with the ultimate burn: he already knew as much about "squaring the circle" as he cared to know.

When he realized the senators were genuinely considering passing the bill, Waldo stepped in to provide a reality check. He spent the necessary time educating the lawmakers on the glaring mathematical errors of Goodwin’s "discovery." Faced with the reality of just how embarrassing this would look to the scientific community, the Senate laughed the bill into oblivion and postponed it indefinitely.

It remains a classic, albeit slightly cringe-worthy, chapter in our state’s history - a reminder that while we entrust our representatives to make laws, it’s always a good idea to make sure they’ve double-checked their math (and everything else) with the experts before they do.

References

Ian Richardson
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The Crossroads of History: Having a Blast Along the Wabash River