Before the world-famous scientist took the stage to speak, the 92-year-old woman sitting in front of me shared with me her evaluation of him as a person:  “He has never grown up, he will never grow up.”

She speaks from experience, having known James Watson for several decades. And in the course of his talk, I came to see for myself what she means.

When only 24 years old, Watson, working with Francis Crick, discovered the structure of DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid), the basic genetic material from which all life is formed. For this great scientific feat, he received the Nobel Prize in 1962.

James Watson is 73 now, an age I know something about, having attained it myself. He has just published a new book “Genes, Girls, and Gamow,” a volume that seems just as frivolous as its title. It does not seem destined to become a classic the way his “The Double Helix” did soon after it was first published in 1968. In fact, some reviewers are already badmouthing the new book.

To prepare for the talk, I reread “The Double Helix” and found it absorbing but less charming than its reputation would indicate. Continual gossip about the author’s colleagues and his self absorption limit its pleasures for me but the scientific quest retains its power.

Among much else, the book will be remembered for such Watsonisms as: “One could not be a successful scientist without realizing that, in contrast to the popular conception supported by newspapers and mothers of scientists, a goodly number of scientists are not only narrow-minded and dull, but also just stupid.”

Last week’s talk revealed Watson as still self-indulgent, frivolous, opinionated, and scattered. As the nonagenarian quoted earlier says of her longtime friend: “He’s arrogant –  –  he doesn’t care what people think.”

The talk itself was filled with mumbling, difficult-to-hear anecdotes, grimaces, and head-scratchings by this speaker. Almost every sentence was punctuated with Watson laughing at his own wit, with much wheezing and snorting. Some audience members found it entertaining but a person without his reputation would surely have had many walk out on him during the 40-minutes of rambling.

He did offer a few noteworthy reflections about his pioneering work. “In science, it pays to talk to your competitors,” he advised, something he and Francis Crick did much of, to their great benefit. Putting it facetiously, he added: “You don’t want to kill your competitors – – you’ll have no one to talk to.”

Speaking about old group photos of scientists, Watson observed that “the best people were in the front row.” From this, he advised the young people in the audience: “If you want to be a scientist, sit in the front row.”

To the question of what he thought about most of the time in the period after his great discovery, his succinct answer was: “Girls.” In part, that happened because “after a month or two, I was bored with the double helix.”

About his latest book, he takes issue with his critics. “The book is beneath me,” they say. But, he replies, “The book is me.” Taking the offensive, he adds, “The book is better than most books.” Besides, he says with a snort, (referring to his friends and associates among the scientists): “I could have waited till they were all dead, including me.”

Slapping back at Bernadine Healy, the person who fired him from his job as head of the Human Genome Project, he observes: “It’s very dangerous to have power and exercise it in the absence of knowledge.”

Asked about cloning, Watson responds: “I’m too old to be interested.” But then he goes on to discuss the question. His main take on the issue is its feasibility, not ethics. “I have no moral qualms about it,” he says. “Most people want something new.”

Reflecting on this encounter with a man already ranked high in the history of science, I feel a mixture of reactions. I share almost everyone’s appreciation of what he accomplished early in life. After all, as his colleague Walter Gilbert said introducing him, “From this discovery flowed all of modern biology.”

But it comes as a shock to realize how superficial a man can be who has achieved something great. And I am surprised by how little wisdom some people  have gained after eight decades of life.

Of course, all of us elders have learned that a person may have a great impact on the world without being especially virtuous. We know that people can demonstrate soaring intelligence and yet be flawed in character. And almost everyone has discovered how a person who can think clearly, even brilliantly, can fail utterly as a speaker.

And yet naively I continue to cherish my illusion that achieving distinction in a field of knowledge or activity brings with it great stature as a human being. It shakes me every time I recognize the falsity of this view as I did once more when I heard the learned scientist.

Richard Griffin