Postscript: Political Science
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catchphrase, while his or her own research programs, if any remain, are
defunded and the staff dispersed. The facts of the case eventually
emerge, but only at an immense toll on the innovator's time and energy.
To those who haven't tried to run a lab, these may seem like harsh
words, unbelievable, even paranoid. Nevertheless, these tactics are com-
monplace, and I've had personal experience with each and every one of
them.
I got a taste of the real world in my very first foray into research.
After World War II, I continued my education on the GI Bill, but those
benefits expired in 1947. I'd just married a fellow student named
Lillian, who had caught my eye during our first orientation lecture, and
I needed a summer job to help pay expenses and set up housekeeping. I
was lucky enough to get work as a lab assistant in the NYU School of
Medicine's surgical research department.
I worked with Co Tui, who was evaluating a recently published
method for separating individual amino acids from proteins as a step
toward concentrating foods for shipment to the starving. Dr. Co, a tiny
man whose black, spiky hair seemed to broadcast enthusiasm, inspired
me enormously. He was a brilliant researcher and a good friend. With
him I helped develop the assay technique and began to use it to study
changes in body proteins after surgery.
I was writing my first scientific paper when I walked to work one
morning and found our laboratory on the sidewalk—all our equipment,
notes, and materials junked in a big pile. I was told neither of us
worked there anymore; we were welcome to salvage anything we wanted
from the heap.
The head secretary told me what had happened. This was during a big
fund drive to build the present NYU Medical Center. One of the "so-
ciety surgeons" had lined up a million-dollar donation from one of his
patients and would see that it got into the fund, if he could choose a
new professor of experimental surgery—now. As fast as that, Co Tui and
his people were out. I vowed to Lillian: "Whatever I do in medicine,
I'm going to stay out of research."
I'm happy that I wasn't able to keep my promise. The research itself
was worth it all. Moreover, I don't want to give the impression that I
and my associates were alone against the world. Just when hope seemed
lost, there was always a crucial person, like Carlyle Jacobsen or the re-
search director's secretary, to help us out. However, right from my first
proposal to measure the current of injury in salamanders, I found that
research would mean a constant battle, and not only with admin-
istrators.