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WORCESTER  POLYTECHNIC  INSTITUTI 


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WINTER  1992 


Manufacturing 
in  the  1990s 


A    SPECIAL    ISSUE 


Robert  C.  Stempel  '55 
Chairman  and  CEO 
of  General  Motors 


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WPI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCV  NO.  1     WINTER  1992 


2 


"    10 


17 

21 


28 


CONTENTS 


What's  Good  for  General  Motors  Today?    Michael  Dorsey 
The  1980s  was  an  eventful  decade  for  the  world's  largest  manufacturer.  General 
Motors  Chairman  Robert  C.  Stempel  '55  explains  what  the  corporation  learned 
during  those  critical  10  years  about  making  quality  products  for  the  highly 
competitive  automotive  market,  and  how  it  is  applying  those  lessons  to  become 
a  stronger  company  in  the  1990s. 

The  New  Wave  in  Manufacturing    Carol  Campbell 
Power  to  the  people.  It  may  sound  like  a  leftover  slogan  from  the  '60s,  but  more 
and  more,  American  corporations  are  learning  to  make  their  employees  key 
players  in  the  quest  for  quality.  As  manufacturing  executives  at  seven  corpora- 
tions explain,  involving  and  empowering  workers  is  a  critical  step  on  the  road 
to  competitiveness. 

Flights  of  Fancy 

Here's  a  look  at  several  of  WPI's  best-known  buildings — up  close  and  personal. 
In  this  four-color  photo  essay,  we  capture  some  of  the  embellishments  and 
details  that  give  these  buildings  their  unique  character  and  charm. 

Education  on  the  Front  Lines    Cathy  Kalenian 

In  the  classrooms  and  laboratories  of  the  Washburn  Shops,  students  enrolled 
in  manufacturing  engineering,  WPI's  newest  accredited  academic  program,  are 
learning  to  become  the  manufacturing  executives  and  the  industrial  innovators 
of  the  21st  century. 

The  Entrepreneurial  Spirit:  Steady  As  She  Goes  Michael  Dorsey 
Robert  H.  Beckett  '57  waited  until  the  time  and  circumstances  were  right  to 
found  his  own  company.  Since  then,  his  unswerving  vision  and  quiet  leadership 
have  helped  Robec  Distributors  grow  into  the  nation's  most  profitable  distribu- 
tor of  desktop  computers,  peripherals  and  software. 


DEPARTMENTS 

34     Communique:  Climbing  Between  the  Peaks.   Donald  F.  Berth '57 


Front  Coven  Robert  C.  Stempel  poses  with  a  General  Motors  concept  car.  Story  on  page  2.  Photo 
courtesy  General  Motors.  Opposite:  Paul  Cotnoir,  director  of  the  Manufacturing  Engineering  Appli- 
cations Center,  left,  and  graduate  student  Fredric  Gold  use  a  horoscope  to  examine  the  transmission 
housing  of  a  Bradley  Fighting  Vehicle.  Story  on  page  21.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock.  Back  Cover.  A 
detail  from  a  hand-colored  engraving  of  the  WPI  campus  by  Richard  Rummell,  completed  in  1908.  WPI 
has  launched  a  drive  to  endow  the  maintenance  of  its  academic  buildings,  including  Boynton  Hall. 
Stratton  Hall  and  the  Washburn  Shops,  seen  here  from  left  to  right.  Story  on  page  34.  (Note:  Alumni 
Gymnasium,  completed  in  1916  and  seen  in  the  background,  was  added  to  this  print  at  a  later  date.) 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Carol  Hoyle  Ballard 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Cleary  71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82 

•  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128)  is  published  quarterly  for  the  WPI  Alumni 
Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second  class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  MA,  and  additional  mailing  offices.  Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt. 
Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence 
to  the  Editor,  WPI  Journal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  mail  (Internet):  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu. 
Postmaster:  If  undeliuerable,  please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  m1992,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


Winter  1992 


What's  Good  for 
General  Motors 
Today? 


By  Michael  Dorsey 


After  a  decade  of  dramatic  change,  the  world's  largest 
manufacturer  is  striving  to  become  a  smaller,  leaner 
and  more  efficient  corporation  to  better  face  the  enor- 
mous pressures  of  foreign  competition,  and  to  better 
survive  one  of  the  longest  recessions  in  recent  memory. 
What  did  GM  learn  during  the  tumultuous 
1980s  about  building  high-quality  products,  about  bal- 
ancing automation  and  human  resources,  and  about 
competing  in  the  global  marketplace,  and  how  is  it 
putting  those  lessons  to  work  to  tackle  the  challenges 
it  faces  today?  GM's  chairman  and  CEO,  WPI's  own 
Robert  C.  Stempel  '55  (left),  provides  some  answers. 


n  1952  President  Eisenhower  nominated  Charles 
"Engine  Charlie"  Wilson,  a  former  General  Motors 
president  and  a  major  GM  stockholder,  to  be  his 
secretary  of  defense.  Asked  whether  his  ties  to  a 
corporation  that  counted  defense  contracts  as  an  im- 
portant part  of  its  bottom  line  would  pose  a  conflict  of 
interest  in  his  new  job,  Wilson  replied,  "For  years  I've 
thought  what  was  good  for  the  country  was  good  for 
General  Motors,  and  vice  versa." 

While  General  Motors'  impact  on  the  well-being 
of  the  United  States  may  have  diminished  somewhat 
since  those  days,  it  is  still  the  largest  and  most  impor- 
tant manufacturing  company  in  the  world.  Its  work 
force  numbers  close  to  half  a  million.  About  10,000 
dealers  sell  its  products.  Some  30,000  suppliers  pro- 
vide it  with  parts  and  raw  materials,  and  its  assembly 
lines  are  the  nation's  largest  consumers  of  steel,  rub- 
ber, glass  and  plastic. 

It's  not  surprising,  then,  that  decisions  made  in 
the  14th-floor  executive  offices  of  the  General  Motors 
Building  in  Detroit  have  the  power  to  captivate  the 
international  business  press,  and  quickly  become 
the  focus  of  conversations  around  water  coolers  and 
dinner  tables  from  coast  to  coast. 

Such  was  the  case  on  Dec.  18,  1991,  when  Robert 
C.  Stempel  '55,  a  33-year  General  Motors  veteran  who 
became  chairman  and  CEO  18  months  ago,  stood 
before  a  packed  press  conference  and  announced  a 
major  resizing  of  the  corporation.  Over  the  next  five 
years,  Stempel  said,  GM  will  close  21  of  its  125  assem- 
bly and  parts  plants,  reducing  its  capacity  by  one-fifth, 
and  eliminate  74,000  blue-  and  white-collar  jobs  (nearly 
18  percent  of  its  North  American  work  force),  shrink- 
ing the  company  to  about  half  its  1985  size. 


WPI  Journal 


The  announcement  was  the  latest  step 
in  a  series  of  actions — including  an  historic 
$2. 1  billion  special  charge  against  earnings 
in  1990— that  GM  has  taken  over  the  last  few 
years  to  improve  its  competitiveness,  pro- 
ductivity and  profitability  by  bringing  its 
manufacturing  capacity  and  payroll  in  line 
with  its  worldwide  auto  sales.  Those  sales 
have  been  declining  in  recent  years  due 
chiefly  to  the  erosion  of  consumer  confi- 
dence brought  on  by  a  lingering  recession. 

In  1991,  for  example,  sales  of  GM  ve- 
hicles fell  by  about  600,000  over  1990  levels, 
leaving  the  company  facing  losses  of  up  to 
$3  billion  (GM  last  earned  a  profit— $4.85 
billion — in  1989).  The  drop  in  earnings  fol- 
lowed a  decade  in  which  the  company's 
share  of  the  North  American  market  steadily 
declined. 

GM,  which  once  made  52  percent  of  all 
cars  sold  in  the  U.S.,  saw  its  market  share 
drop  from  46  percent  in  1980  to  just  over  35 
percent  by  the  end  of  1991.  Over  the  same 
period,  the  share  held  by  Japanese  auto- 
makers rose  from  15.7  percent  to  29  percent. 
Significantly,  the  size  of  that  market  has  also 
declined — from  about  14  million  vehicles 
in  1980  to  about  12  million  vehicles  today. 

How  did  General  Motors  arrive  at  this 
critical  era  of  belt-tightening?  How  did  a  cor- 
poration that  once  seemed  the  stable,  solid 
heart  of  American  enterprise  find  itself  in 
the  midst  of  an  urgent  quest  to  rebuild  and 
remake  itself?  Much  of  the  answer  lies  in  the 
events  of  the  1980s,  10  years  of  dramatic 
change  at  GM,  and  a  decade  that  posed 
some  of  the  most  significant  challenges  the 
corporation  has  faced  in  its  83-year  history. 

Several  critical  events  in  the  1970s  paved 
the  way  for  the  eventful  '80s.  The  most  im- 
portant was  the  oil  embargo  of  1973,  which 
sent  gasoline  prices  soaring  and  created  a 


!    tremendous  demand  for  smaller,  more  fuel- 
efficient  cars.  American  car  companies  re- 
sponded with  models  like  the  Ford  Pinto 
and  the  Chevrolet  Vega,  but  consumers 
seemed  to  prefer  imports  like  the  Honda 
Civic.  In  fact,  Japanese  carmakers  made 
significant  inroads  into  the  U.S.  car  market 
during  the  rest  of  the  1970s. 

In  1978  the  U.S.  was  hit  with  another  oil 
embargo  and  the  federal  government  intro- 
duced the  first  fuel-economy  standards  for 
cars.  General  Motors,  which  had  already 
begun  a  program  to  downsize  its  larger 
cars,  accelerated  that  program  and  set  out 
to  make  virtually  every  one  of  its  vehicles 
smaller,  lighter  and  more  fuel  efficient. 

The  oil  embargoes,  combined  with  a  re- 
cession in  the  mid-1970s,  led  to  declining 
sales  for  all  three  U.S.  automakers.  In  re- 
sponse, GM  laid  off  thousands  of  workers  in 
1979,  and  the  following  year  the  company 
posted  its  first  yearly  loss  in  60  years— $763 
million.  As  the  1980s  began,  it  was  becoming 
clear  to  many  that  American  automakers 
had  a  bigger  problem:  the  Japanese  were 
beating  the  Big  Three  American  automakers 
in  two  critical  areas — quality  and  cost.  By 
selling  cars  that  appealed  to  U.S.  consumers 
and  keeping  their  manufacturing  costs 
down,  the  Japanese  were  giving  GM,  Ford 
and  Chrysler  a  run  for  their  money. 

Some  of  the  ways  in  which  GM  re- 
sponded to  the  competitive  pressures  of 
the  early  1980s  were  destined  to  erode  con- 
sumer confidence.  For  example,  the  move 
to  downsize  cars  resulted  in  car  series — 
the  J-cars  of  the  early  1980s,  for  example, 
or  the  GM-10  series  introduced  later  in  the 
decade — with  models  that  looked  too  much 
alike  or  that  lacked  the  eye-catching  styling 
of  their  foreign  competitors.  More  and  more, 
consumers  also  came  to  see  GM  cars  as 


assess* 
— ssss*?""""     .    ja»tJ 


The  1992  Cadillac  Seville,  winner  of  the  top  award  from  three  major  automotive 
magazines,  is  a  product  of  GM's  redoubled  commitment  to  making  quality  cars. 


!SS^18 


The  NUMMI  plant  in  Fremont,  Calif., 
a  joint  venture  between  General 
Motors  and  Toyota.  NUMMI  was  one 
of  several  experiments  GM  engaged 
in  during  the  1980s  to  learn  how  to 
make  its  manufacturing  operations 
more  competitive. 


being  lower  in  quality  and  more  expensive 
than  the  vehicles  rolling  off  the  Toyota  and 
Honda  assembly  lines. 

Recognizing  that  it  was  losing  ground  to 
the  Japanese,  General  Motors  made  a  major 
effort  to  upgrade  and  automate  its  plants 
in  the  1980s  (see  Lesson  1,  next  page).  The 
plant  improvements  were  an  attempt  to 
lower  GM's  production  costs,  an  area  where 
it  has  long  lagged  behind  even  its  domestic 
competitors. 

While  GM  found  that  automation  is 
important,  it  learned  that  other  ways  of  im- 
proving productivity  (many  pioneered  on 
Japanese  factory  floors)— like  keeping  mini- 
mum inventories  of  parts  on  hand,  finding 
ways  to  involve  and  empower  workers,  and 
becoming  committed  to  the  continuous  im- 
provement of  both  products  and  the  manu- 
facturing process — were  even  more  vital. 

To  learn  more  about  these  techniques, 
GM  engaged  in  several  partnerships  with 
Japanese  companies  during  the  1980s  (see 
Lesson  2,  next  page)  and  launched  a  new 
car  division,  Saturn,  to  apply  these  lessons 
and  to  develop  its  own  manufacturing  inno- 
vations. 

Even  before  GM's  Dec.  18  announcement, 
auto  analysts  were  in  agreement  that  Gen- 
eral Motors  is  making  good  use  of  the  les- 
sons it  learned  in  the  decade  just  past  and 
is  beginning  to  turn  the  giant  corporation 
around.  While  it  will  take  time  to  rebuild 
consumer  confidence  lost  in  the  1980s,  car 
buyers  and  the  automotive  media  seem  to 
like  the  high-quality  cars  GM  is  putting  into 
showrooms. 

Sales  of  the  1992  Buick  Park  Avenue,  a 
stylish  midsize  car,  are  running  about  34 
percent  ahead  of  sales  of  the  previous  ver- 
sion of  the  model.  The  Chevrolet  Caprice 


Winter  1992 


was  named  Motor  Trend's  Car  of  Year  in 
1991,  and  the  new  Cadillac  Seville  has  cap- 
tured top  awards  from  three  major  automo- 
tive magazines.  While  Japanese  makers  still 
earn  the  top  spots  on  the  index  of  customer 
satisfaction  published  by  the  California- 
based  J.D.  Power  &  Associates,  Buick 
and  Cadillac  ranked  fourth  and  seventh, 
respectively,  on  the  most  recent  list — the 
only  U.S.  carmakers  to  appear  in  the  top  10. 

Over  the  past  two  years,  GM  has  re- 
vamped many  of  its  models  and  introduced 
a  flurry  of  new  vehicles,  including  16  new 
cars  and  trucks  for  1992— the  largest  new 
car  rollout  in  automotive  history.  These  cars 
are  winning  consumer  approval  for  their 
sleek,  aerodynamic  styling  and  high  quality. 
In  addition,  the  company  is  winning  a  well- 
deserved  reputation  as  a  technical  leader  in 
such  areas  as  anti-lock  brakes  and  electric 
vehicles. 

GM  has  also  been  at  work  streamlining 
its  massive  organization.  Its  parts-making 
divisions  have  declined  from  12  to  nine.  The 
division  that  makes  brakes  and  suspension 
systems  for  GM  cars  is  being  merged  with 
the  one  that  makes  hardware  related  to 
those  systems.  The  GM  engine  and  trans- 
mission divisions  have  been  merged  into 
a  single  powertrain  division. 

And,  while  GM  as  a  whole  continues  to 
lose  money,  its  two  major  acquisitions  of 
the  1980s— EDS,  a  computer  services  com- 
pany, and  Hughes  Aircraft— are  both  doing 
well.  But  Stempel  acknowledges  that  there 
is  still  much  to  do.  For  example,  GM  is  still 
the  highest-cost  auto  manufacturer  and  its 
plants  are  still  not  as  efficient  or  as  flexible 
as  those  of  the  Japanese. 

GM's  latest  advertising  campaign  says 
the  company  is  "putting  quality  on  the 
road."  With  24  other  car  companies  also 
putting  quality — in  the  form  of  some  600 
models  of  cars  and  trucks — on  that  same 
road,  GM  will  have  to  continue  to  improve 
the  way  it  designs,  engineers  and  makes 
cars  to  remain  competitive.  The  Journal 
asked  Robert  Stempel  what  lessons  he  feels 


his  company  distilled  from  its  experiences 
in  the  1980s  and  how  it  is  using  those  les- 
sons to  meet  its  goals  for  the  decade  ahead. 
Here  are  his  answers: 

LESSON  1 

Balance  Automation  With 
Well-Trained  Workers 

In  the  late  1970s  General  Motors  launched  a 
major  effort  to  modernize  its  aging  assem- 
bly and  parts  plants  and  introduce  robotics 
and  other  automation  technology  to  its  fac- 
tories. By  the  end  of  the  1980s  the  corpora- 
tion would  spend  about  $77  billion  on  plant 
modernization. 

"Many  of  our  plants  were  built  in  the 
1920s  and  1930s,"  Stempel  says,  "and  were 
of  a  style  that  was  just  the  way  they  used  to 
teach  at  WPI.  They  had  high  bays  and  col- 
umns and  cranes  and  so  forth — a  lot  of  ver- 
tical motion.  So,  we  built  new  plants  and 
refurbished  older  ones,  because  if  you're 
going  to  be  competitive  in  today's  world 
you  need  modern,  up-to-date  facilities." 

The  new  and  renovated  plants  incorpo- 
rated some  of  the  latest  ideas  in  manufac- 
turing, Stempel  says,  such  as  unloading 
parts  and  materials  near  where  they'll  be 
used  in  the  plant  to  minimize  trucking  and 
handling,  and  reducing  the  amount  of  room 
needed  for  parts  storage  by  keeping  just 
those  raw  materials  on  hand  that  are  neces- 
sary for  the  immediate  future— what's 
known  as  just-in-time  inventory.  "Most  of 
all,  we  decided  we  better  be  pretty  flexible," 
Stempel  says,  "because  we  don't  know  what 
the  automobile  is  going  to  look  like  in  the 
future,  other  than  that  it  will  probably  have 
four  wheels." 

While  the  investment  in  plant  moderniza- 


Workers  at  the  modern  Saturn  plant  have 
stantial  role  in  ensuring  the  quality  of  the 


tion  has  paid  off  by  giving  the  corporation  a 
modern  manufacturing  base,  its  experimen- 
tation with  automation  has  taken  longer  to 
bear  fruit,  Stempel  says.  "Early  in  the  1980s 
there  was  a  feeling  that  you  could  do  every- 
thing with  robots— that  they  would  make 
things  quite  simple.  We've  learned  over  time 
that  you  want  to  automate  things  that  are 
repetitive  or  that  take  a  lot  of  grunt  work- 
things  like  the  precision  placement  of  parts 
or  precision  welding.  None  of  us  can  do  the 
same  thing  perfectly  hour  after  hour,  but  a 
robot  can. 

"But  where  you  have  tasks  that  may  vary 
from  car  to  car,  or  tasks  that  will  be  con- 
stantly changing,  don't  discount  a  well- 
trained  worker.  The  human  body  is  still  the 
most  adaptable  machine  when  it  comes  to 
reprogramming.  So  you  need  a  balance  of 
automation  and  people.  That  balance  is 
what  makes  it  work." 

LESSON  2 

Make  Workers  Part 
of  the  Quest  for  Quality 

While  General  Motors  worked  to  upgrade 
and  automate  its  plants,  it  also  entered  into 
several  critical  projects  during  the  1980s 
aimed,  at  least  in  part,  at  learning  why  Japa- 
nese automakers  were  able  to  turn  out  high- 
quality  cars  faster  and  less  expensively  than 
U.S.  manufacturers.  The  most  important  of 
these  undertakings  was  a  joint  venture 
launched  in  1983  with  Toyota  Motor  Sales 
Co.,  Japan's  largest  and  most  profitable  car 
company. 

Called  NUMM1  (New  United  Motor  Manu- 
facturing Inc.),  the  company  today  builds 
the  Geo  Prizm,  the  Toyota  Corolla  and  a 
Toyota  pick-up  truck  at  a  GM  plant  in 

Fremont,  Calif.  GM 
and  Toyota  each 
appointed  half  of 
the  members  of  the 
NUMM1  board  of  di- 
rectors and  the  plant 
itself  is  managed  by 
Japanese  and  Ameri- 
can staffers. 

"The  joint  venture 
was  really  a  learning 
laboratory  for  Gen- 
eral Motors,"  Stempel 
says.  "We  wanted  to 
know  what  the  Japa- 
nese did  differently 
that  we  might  also 
try.  Was  their  success 
due  to  the  fact  that 
they  come  from  a 
country  half-way 

been  given  a  sub-         around  tne  §,obe'  or 
products  they  make,    is  it  the  fact  that  they 


WPI  Journal 


do  things  differently  than  we  do?" 

GM  discovered  that  while  automation 
and  advanced  technology  played  a  role  in 
Toyota's  success,  the  way  it  manages  its 
plants  and  people  is  far  more  important, 
Stempel  says.  "We  learned  about  just-in-time 
inventory,  about  ideas  like  continuous  im- 
provement— even  about  things  as  simple  as 
workers  using  visual  signals  to  let  people 
know  when  they  are  running  out  of  materi- 
als or  when  something  isn't  quite  right  on 
the  line.  Overall,  it's  been  a  good  learning 
experience  for  us." 

The  techniques  employed  at  NUMMI,  in- 
cluding a  strong  emphasis  on  human  devel- 
opment and  placing  responsibility  for 
decision  making  and  quality  improvement  in 
the  hands  of  hourly  workers,  would  ulti- 
mately play  a  role  in  the  success  of  General 
Motor's  Saturn  Division.  Saturn  represented 
GM's  attempt  to  start  with  a  clean  sheet  of 
paper  and  invent,  not  only  a  new  car,  but  a 
new  way  to  design,  engineer  and  build  it. 

Created  over  eight  years  at  a  cost  of 
about  $3  billion,  Saturn  is  the  first  new  GM 
division  since  founder  William  Durant  ac- 
quired the  Pontiac  Body  Co.  in  1916. 
Stempel  says  Saturn  was  designed  to  ac- 
knowledge some  fundamental  rules  about 
manufacturing  that  GM  had  come  to  appre- 
ciate. "You've  got  to  understand  that  cus- 
tomers today  are  only  going  to  accept  the 
highest-quality  products,"  he  says.  "They're 
looking  for  something  new  and  fresh  and 
they're  looking  for  something  that's  done  in 
a  short  period  of  time.  So  Saturn  was  set  up 
to  meet  those  demands. 

"The  objective  was  to  build  a  small, 
highly  fuel-efficient,  affordable  car  here  in 
the  United  States  at  a  profit.  We  set  some 
very  tough  parameters  for  ourselves,  be- 
cause we  realized  that  if  we  can't  build  a 


"We're  Going  to  Walk  Throug 

T 

1  ■ 

1  1. 


Stempel,  on  campus  to  deliver  the  1987 
Commencement  address,  stops  to  admire 
a  race  car  designed  by  WPI  students. 


he  man  who  took  charge  of  General 
Motors  on  Aug.  1, 1990,  has  had  a  life- 
long fascination  with  cars.  Bom  in 
Trenton,  N.J.,  Robert  C.  Stempel  grew  up 
in  Bloomfield,  N J.,  where  he  worked  in  a 
garage  to  earn  money  for  college.  He  later 
fixed  cars  for  schoolmates  while  earning  his 
degree  in  mechanical  engineering  at  WPI. 
After  he  graduated  in  1955,  he  worked 
briefly  for  General  Electric  and  served  in 
the  U.S.  Army  Corps  of  Engineers,  but  his 
real  ambition  was  to  land  a  job  at  General 
Motors.  He  began  as  a  design  engineer  in 
the  Oldsmobile  chassis  design  department 
in  1958.  His  first  assignment,  designing  part 
of  a  wheel  assembly,  went  poorly,  but  he 
learned  and  went  on  to  develop  the  front 
suspension  and  transmission  for  the  1966 
Toronado — GM's  first  postwar  front-wheel- 
drive  car.  Stempel's  design  for  the  system 
that  joined  the  transmission  to  the  front 
axle  is  considered  a  significant  engineering 
achievement. 

After  earning  an  M.B.A.  from  Michigan 
State  University  in  1973,  he  was  chosen  spe- 
cial assistant  to  then-GM  president  Edward 
Cole.  Under  Cole,  Stempel  helped  develop 
the  catalytic  converter,  a  revolutionary 


Cadillac  general  manager  John  O.  Grettenberger  tells  workers 
at  the  Hamtramck  plant  they've  won  the  1990  Baldrige  Award. 
Robert  Stempel  can  be  seen  behind  the  podium  at  left. 


small  car  profitably,  it  will  only  be  a  matter 
of  time  before  we  go  out  of  this  business." 
The  first  Saturns  went  on  the  market  in 
1989,  and  so  far  the  experiment  seems  to 
have  been  a  great  suc- 
cess. "We've  stayed 
with  our  goal  of  having 
only  the  highest-quality 
product,"  Stempel  says. 
"We've  gotten  good  cus- 
tomer acceptance — it's 
one  of  the  few  cars  we 
have  on  the  market  to- 
day that's  really  selling 
well — and  buyers  are 
recommending  it  to 
their  friends  and  neigh- 
bors." 

As  it  did  with  the 
products  of  the  NUMMI 
experiment,  GM  is  shar- 
ing the  lessons  of  Saturn 
with  its  other  divisions. 
"We're  taking  the  people 
training,  the  educational 
skills,  and  the  idea  of 


teamwork  and  applying  them.  We've  been 
doing  that  from  day  one.  In  some  units  it's 
worked  very  well;  in  others,  where  we  have 
more  of  a  history  of  friction  between  labor 
and  management,  it  will  take  a  little  longer 
to  get  it  through  the  system. 

"Sharing  these  experiences  is  something 
we  do  on  a  regular  basis  at  General  Motors. 
And  we  do  share  both  ways.  We  share  where 
we've  screwed  up,  and  we  share  where 
we've  had  successes.  It's  important  to  take 
apart  your  failures,  to  say,  'OK,  we  learned 
that  once,  let's  not  learn  it  again,  guys.'  With 
success  we  say,  'let's  see  how  many  times 
we  can  spread  that  good  example  in  our 
various  organizations.'" 

One  way  GM  is  spreading  the  idea  of  em- 
powering workers  is  the  Quality  Network,  an 
agreement  enacted  between  GM  and  the 
United  Auto  Workers  in  1987.  The  agreement 
says  that  all  GM  employees — from  the  chair- 
man on  down — are  partners  in  the  process 
of  delivering  quality  vehicles  to  customers. 
Essentially,  the  Quality  Network  is  a  way  of 
sharing  the  goals  of  the  corporation  with 
all  employees  and  then  giving  them  the 


Winter  1992 


Ms  For  Bob  Stempel" 


device  that  enabled  GM  cars  to  meet  strict 
government  emissions  requirements. 

Over  the  next  14  years  he  held  increas- 
ingly important  positions  that  exposed  him 
to  all  aspects  of  GM's  worldwide  operation, 
including  director  of  engineering  for  Chevro- 
let, vice  president  and  general  manager  of  the 
Chevrolet  and  Pontiac  divisions,  vice  presi- 
dent and  group  executive  of  the  Buick- 
Oldsmobile-Cadillac  Group,  and  executive 
vice  president  of  the  overseas  and  truck 
operations. 

In  1987  he  became  the  youngest  GM  presi- 
dent in  30  years;  three  years  later  he  was 
named  chairman  and  CEO,  becoming  only  the 
second  person  since  Alfred  P.  Sloan  to  hold 
both  the  president's  and  chairman's  jobs. 

A  football  player  at  WPI,  Stempel  is  an 
imposing  6  feet  4  inches,  but  he  has  the 
warmth  and  charm  to  quickly  put  people  at 
ease.  Known  for  his  long  workdays,  his  thor- 
ough understanding  of  cars,  and  his  willing- 
ness to  take  charge  in  tough  situations, 
Stempel  was  hailed  by  GM  employees  and 
dealers — and  by  financial  analysts — when 
he  took  over  the  top  spot  at  GM. 

Within  the  corporation,  he  is  known  as  a 
fair  manager  who  values  loyalty  and  who  likes 


to  manage  through  teamwork.  To  encourage 
participation  and  debate,  he  meets  with  his 
management  team  around  a  round  table  in 
his  office.  He's  known  for  giving  credit  where 
it  is  due,  but  also  for  accepting  blame  when 
things  go  wrong.  "He's  the  kind  of  leader  who 
takes  the  lumps,  and  we're  going  to  walk 
through  walls  for  Bob  Stempel,"  Richard 
G.  LeFauve,  president  of  the  Saturn  Corpora- 
tion, told  the  Wall  Street  Journal  last  year. 

"For  several  years  now  we've  been  focus- 
ing on  teamwork  at  General  Motors,"  Stempel 
says.  "As  we  made  the  transition  to  smaller, 
lighter,  front-wheel-drive  vehicles,  we  real- 
ized that  we  had  to  change  75  years  of  auto- 
motive history  and  that  we'd  have  to  work 
together  to  do  that.  So  the  sense  of  team- 
work has  been  building.  I've  certainly  tried 
to  improve  communication  so  we  all  know 
what's  going  on  and  we  can  respond  in  a 
better  fashion  to  the  customer." 

Stempel's  watch  has  been  marked  by 
some  of  the  greatest  challenges  GM  has  ever 
faced — challenges  that  began  on  his  second 
day  as  chairman,  when  Iraq  invaded  Kuwait 
and  sent  auto  sales  sliding.  "My  first  day  on 
the  job  was  great,"  he  says.  "The  rest  of  them 
could  have  been  a  lot  better." 


resources  to  use  their  skills  and  ideas  to 
help  realize  those  goals,  Stempel  says. 

LESSON  3 

Serve  Your  External 
and  Internal  Customers 

The  Malcolm  Baldrige  National  Quality 
Award  was  created  by  the  Department  of 
Commerce  in  1987  to  recognize  American 
corporations  that  have  made  the  greatest 
strides  in  improving  their  quality  and  cus- 
tomer satisfaction.  To  qualify  for  the  award 
a  company  must  do  a  detailed  self-evalua- 
tion in  seven  categories,  including  leader- 
ship, strategic  quality  planning  and  human 
resource  utilization.  Often,  the  process  of 
completing  this  evaluation  teaches  a  com- 
pany valuable  lessons  about  just  where  it 
falls  short  in  the  quest  for  quality. 

That's  what  happened  when  General 
Motors'  Cadillac  Division  decided  to  com- 
pete for  the  award  in  1989.  "That  first  year 
they  got  into  the  finals,  but  they  didn't  win," 
Stempel  says.  "But  it  encouraged  them  to 
go  ahead  and  try  it  the  next  year,  and,  of 


course,  they  did  win  it.  [Other  winners  in 
1990  were  the  Rochester  division  of  IBM, 
Federal  Express  and  the  Wallace  Co.]  It's 
been  terrific  for  the  work  force;  they're  very 
proud  of  it.  Today  they're 
building  our  new  Seville 
and  Eldorado,  which 
have  won  tremendous 
acceptance  worldwide." 
What  made  the  differ- 
ence at  Cadillac?  While 
the  division  adopted 
many  new  ideas  and  pro- 
cedures aimed  at  in- 
creasing the  quality  of 
its  products — including 
many  of  the  ideas  dis- 
cussed elsewhere  in  this 
article — one  of  the  most 
fundamental  and  benefi- 
cial changes  it  made  at 
its  modern  Hamtramck 
Assembly  Center  was  to 
make  its  employees 
aware  of  their  role  in  the 
pursuit  of  quality. 


Cadillac  adopted  the  notion  of  the  inter- 
nal and  external  customers:  the  external 
customer  is  the  buyer  of  a  Cadillac  automo- 
bile; the  internal  customer  is  the  next  per- 
son on  the  assembly  line  whose  work  is 
affected  by  how  well  the  previous  person 
does  his  job. 

"If  you  go  through  that  plant  today," 
Stempel  says,  "you'll  find  that  everybody 
understands  what  quality  is  and  what  it 
takes  to  make  a  quality  vehicle.  That  whole 
work-force  training  paid  off,  because  each 
worker  knows  if  he  doesn't  do  his  job  right, 
somewhere  down  the  line  it's  going  to  cause 
a  problem  for  someone  else." 

LESSON  4 

Good  Manufacturing 
Begins  With  Good  Design 

"With  the  tremendous  number  of  auto 
manufacturers  today,  all  offering  high-qual- 
ity products,  it's  imperative  that  we  increase 
our  competitiveness  by  getting  our  costs 
down  and  getting  our  cars  to  market  faster," 
Stempel  says.  "One  tool  for  doing  this  is 
design  for  manufacturing  or  design  for 
assembly.  It's  a  terrific  technique." 

Essentially,  design  for  manufacturing 
encourages  designers,  engineers  and  pro- 
duction experts  to  work  together  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  design  process  to  assure  that 
when  the  car  makes  its  way  to  the  assembly 
line  it  can  be  put  together  as  quickly  and 
efficiently  as  possible.  "It  causes  us  to  make 
our  cars  with  as  few  parts  as  possible,  and 
to  make  sure  that  there  is  virtually  only  one 
way  to  fit  those  parts  together,  reducing  the 
chances  for  misassembly,"  Stempel  says. 
"It's  really  just  good  old  commonsense  engi- 
neering. We're  using  it  extensively  and  it's 
working  out  quite  well." 


The  1992  Buick  Park  Avenue  is  one  of  several  new 
GM  models  that  is  easier  to  assemble,  thanks  to  a 
technique  known  as  design  for  manufacturing. 


WPI  Journal 


Europe  is  a  Bright  Spot, 
But  the  Japanese  Are  Coming 


One  of  the  bright  spots  for  General 
Motors  during  the  1980s  was  the 
turnaround  of  its  European  opera- 
tions— a  success  in  which  Robert  Stempel 
played  an  important  role.  Today,  GM  is 
Europe's  fastest  growing  and  most  profit- 
able carmaker.  With  a  unified  European  mar- 
ket just  around  the  corner,  the  gains  the 
company  has  made  on  the  Continent  over 
the  past  10  years  will  place  it  in  good  posi- 
tion to  stay  competitive. 

Part  of  the  reason  for  GM's  success  in 
Europe  was  the  revamping  of  its  product 
line  to  replace  boxy,  look-alike  cars  with  dis- 
tinctive and  attractive  vehicles  like  the  Opel 
Kadett,  the  second  most  popular  car  in  Ger- 
many and  GM's  best-selling  vehicle  world- 
wide. 

The  company  also  modernized  its  manu- 
facturing plants  and  used  a  heavy  dose  of 
synchronous  engineering  to  make  its  cars 
easier  and  cheaper  to  build.  Better  relations 
with  union  workers  in  Europe  allowed  the 
carmaker  to  introduce  three-shifts-a-day 
production  at  several  plants,  further  boost- 
ing productivity.  As  a  result,  GM's  productiv- 


ity is  second  only  to  Peugeot  in  Europe.  As 
head  of  GM's  Adam  Opel  unit  from  1980  to 
1982,  Stempel  helped  introduce  the  Kadett 
and  also  helped  build  strong  ties  to  labor. 

In  more  recent  months,  GM  has  ex- 
panded its  manufacturing  and  marketing  op- 
erations into  Eastern  Europe  and  the  former 
Soviet  Union,  and  now  has  a  greater  pres- 
ence on  the  Continent  than  even  some  Euro- 
pean carmakers.  But  to  date,  GM  and  its 
European  rivals  have  not  had  to  deal  with 
heavy  competition  from  Japanese  compa- 
nies. That  will  soon  change,  as  the  Japanese 
begin  to  gear  up  their  operations  in  Europe. 

"We're  going  to  have  to  stay  ahead  of  the 
game  in  Europe,"  Stempel  says.  "We've  had 
a  great  learning  experience  in  the  U.S.,  and 
we'll  be  able  to  profit  from  the  mistakes 
we've  made  right  here.  Now  we  must  con- 
tinue to  reduce  our  manufacturing  costs  and 
get  even  more  efficient  in  Europe.  We're  not 
far  behind  the  Japanese  in  the  U.S.,  but  our 
European  operations  will  have  to  get  leaner 
without  sacrificing  our  high  level  of  Euro- 
pean quality.  Yes,  we're  pleased  with  our 
success  in  Europe,  but  we're  not  resting 
on  our  laurels." 


Stempel  says  nearly  all  GM  designers 
have  been  trained  in  design  for  manufactur- 
ing and  several  new  GM  cars  have  benefited 
from  the  technique,  including  the  new 
Cadillac  Seville  and  the  Buick  Park  Avenue. 
The  1992  Seville,  for  example,  has  50  per- 
cent fewer  parts  in  its  front  and  rear  bumper 
systems  than  its  predecessor.  With  fewer 
parts,  cars  go  together  faster  and  less  ex- 
pensively, a  benefit  GM  is  keenly  aware  of. 
A  company  study  in  1989  found  that  41 
percent  of  the  difference  in  productivity  be- 
tween a  GM  plant  and  a  comparable  Ford 
plant  was  due  to  differences  in  design. 

Cost  saving  is  not  the  only  benefit  of  sim- 
plifying design,  Stempel  says,  noting  that,  in 
general,  the  simpler  the  design  the  more  re- 
liable and  durable  the  product.  He  says  this 
new  approach  to  design  has  made  particular 
inroads  into  the  manufacture  of  the  elec- 
tronic systems  that  control  emissions  on 
GM  vehicles. 

"Some  of  the  systems  found  in  cars  to- 
day are  very  complex,  with  many  devices, 
computers  and  associated  wiring,"  Stempel 
says.  "We've  tried  to  simplify  the  design, 
and  yet  maintain  all  the  controls.  With  less 


complexity,  we've  increased  the  reliability. 
But  more  important,  a  simpler  system  lends 
itself  to  more  precise  control  of  emissions 
and  better  fuel  economy.  It's  not  by  accident 
that  we  are  the  fuel  economy  leader." 

Good  design  is  also 
enabling  GM  to  stream- 
line the  number  of  unique 
parts  it  uses  in  its  cars. 
For  example,  it  is  reduc- 
ing the  number  of  GM  en- 
gine families  from  nine  to 
five,  trimming  its  ignition 
systems  from  seven  to 
three  and  combining 
some  of  its  19  platforms 
(the  metal  framework  on 
which  a  car  is  built). 

LESSON  5 


ing  as  independent  functions  to  be  per- 
formed in  series.  As  Charles  M.  Jordan,  GM's 
vice  president  for  design,  told  the  Canadian 
magazine  Maclean 's  last  year,  "We  used  to 
design  a  car  and  then  throw  it  over  the 
fence  to  the  engineers.  After  a  while,  they 
would  toss  it  back  and  say  they  couldn't  do 
this  or  that.  Then,  after  a  few  more  rounds, 
we  would  both  toss  it  over  the  fence  to  the 
manufacturing  guys,  who  would  raise  a 
whole  new  series  of  objections." 

As  a  result,  General  Motors  was  taking 
far  too  long  to  bring  new  cars  to  market, 
Stempel  says.  "It  used  to  take  us  on  the 
order  of  60  months — five  years — to  go  from 
concept  to  showroom  floor,"  he  notes. 
"Today,  most  of  our  cars  are  coming  to 
market  in  36  months  or  less.  The  best  of  the 
Japanese  companies,  we  find,  are  doing  it  in 
about  27  months.  We're  continuing  to  work 
on  this  process — we've  gotten  cars  out  in 
as  little  as  34  months." 

Stempel  says  the  time  from  concept  to 
marketable  car  has  got  to  be  less  than  three 
years  if  customers  are  to  perceive  new  cars 
as  fresh  and  exciting.  To  accelerate  its 
speed  to  market,  GM  has  adopted  synchro- 
nous engineering,  which  essentially  means 
bringing  the  designer,  industrial  engineer 
and  production  engineer  together  at  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  car  project.  GM  has  gone  a 
step  farther  and  brought  the  workers  who 
will  actually  assemble  the  car  into  the  initial 
planning  process,  an  idea  that  came  out  of 
the  Saturn  program. 

Saturn  assembly  workers  have  been 
given  a  say  in  many  matters  previously  re- 
served for  senior  management — things  like 
the  layout  of  the  factory  floor,  the  choice  of 
dealers,  and  even  the  selection  of  the 
company's  national  advertising  agency. 
Stempel  notes  that  Saturn  workers  visited 


Integrate  Design, 
Engineering  and 
Manufacturing 

For  many  years,  GM 
looked  at  design,  engi- 
neering and  manufactur- 


The  body  panels  of  the  Saturn  are  put  on  last,  making 
it  easier  for  workers  to  assemble  the  car's  interior. 


8 


Winter  1992 


When  it  is  put  on  the  market  later  this  decade,  GM's  Impact  will  become  the 
first  modern  electric  car  manufactured  by  a  major  automaker.  Impact  will  be 
built  by  the  highly  skilled  work  force  at  GM's  Lansing  (Mich.)  Craft  Centre. 


the  vendor  contracted  to  build  the  machines 
used  to  assemble  the  car's  underbody.  "As  a 
result  of  their  input,"  he  says,  "the  equipment 
is  more  worker  friendly:  there's  less  lifting, 
turning,  stooping  and  so  forth.  If  a  guy's  been    | 
putting  cars  together  most  of  his  life,  he's  got 
ideas  about  what  makes  things  easy  and 
what  makes  them  harder.  It's  really  worth- 
while listening  to  him." 

Synchronous  engineering  reduces  sur- 
prises when  a  new  car  reaches  the  assembly 
line,  Stempel  says.  "If  you  know  you're  going 
to  use  a  weld  gun  that  needs  a  certain 
amount  of  access,  you  can  design  that  access 
into  the  body.  If  you  know  you're  going  to 
have  an  operation  that  requires  lifting  from 
underneath  the  vehicle  by  an  automated  sys- 
tem, you  can  design  in  the  proper  clearance 
or  put  in  special  brackets. 

"You  may  even  want  to  change  the  way 
you  build  things.  At  our  Opel  facility  in  Ger- 
many, we  use  what  we  call  a  cockpit  load, 
where  the  assembly  that  includes  the  instru- 
ment panel,  heater,  steering  column  and  so 
on  is  built  outside  the  car  and  put  in  fully  as- 
sembled. By  eliminating  the  need  for  workers 
to  do  tedious  work  while  lying  on  their  backs 
inside  the  car,  you  reduce  mistakes.  This  idea 
came  about  because  process  engineers  were 
there  at  the  design  stage." 

Integrating  design,  engineering  and  pro- 
duction can  help  make  manufacturing  facili- 
ties more  flexible  and  better  able  to  respond 
quickly  to  the  changing  marketplace.  At  its 
highest  level,  flexibility  means  being  able 
to  build  several  different  vehicles  on  the 
same  line,  switching  effortlessly  from  one 
to  the  other,  but  it  can  also  mean  making 
several  versions  of  the  same  car  with  a  mini- 
mum of  equipment. 

On  the  Saturn  assembly  line,  for  example, 
the  same  equipment  can  be  used  to  make 
either  automatic  or  manual  transmissions  be- 
cause, though  the  transmissions  share  only 
some  parts,  all  of  their  parts  were  designed 


to  be  handled  by  the  same  machines.  This 
saves  about  60  percent  of  the  cost  of  build- 
ing transmissions  on  two  different  lines. 
Similar  thinking  went  into  the  design  of  the 
engine  line,  where  of  86  workstations,  50  are 
common  to  the  single-overhead-cam  and 
dual-overhead-cam  versions  of  the  engine. 
At  the  Cadillac  Division,  the  idea  of  syn- 
chronous engineering  was  expanded  into 
a  more  comprehensive  management  tech- 
nique called  synchronous  organization.  In 
this  approach,  all  parts  of  the  manufactur- 
ing enterprise — human  resources,  financial 
management,  design,  engineering  and  manu- 
facturing— are  integrated.  The  goal  is  to 
identify  the  parts  of  the  operation  that  drive 
the  cost  of  production,  and  then  eliminate 
those  that  add  no  value  to  the  product. 

LESSON  6 

Quality  is  What 

the  Customer  Says  It  Is 

In  his  opening  remarks  to  the  third 
National  Quality  Forum  in  1988,  then-GM 
president  Stempel  provided  a  simple  defini- 
tion of  quality:  "responding  to  the  voice  of 
the  customer — meeting  his  desires  and  re- 
quirements." Chairman  Stempel  says  he  is 
still  committed  to  that  definition. 

"If  a  customer  is  looking  at  one  of  our 
automobiles  and  he  says,  'Well,  you  know 
that  isn't  really  a  good  fit  and  this  doesn't 
look  right  to  me,'  the  fact  that  1  can  show 
him  a  whole  raft  of  data  showing  that  our 
car  is  just  as  good  as  anyone  else's  is  irrel- 
evant. He  said  he  didn't  like  it. 

"To  make  products  that  hit  the  mark,  you 
have  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  customer. 
When  a  customer  walks  up  to  our  new  Park 
Avenue,  LeSabre  or  Bonneville,  his  first  reac- 
tion is,  'Wow,  what  a  car.'  He's  made  a  visual 
assessment.  He's  seen  that  not  only  is  it  an 
integrated  design  that  looks  good,  but  the 
fits  are  good.  When  he  gets  in  it  and  it  starts 


and  runs  well,  then  we've  got  him  interested. 
So,  you  really  have  to  work  to  listen  to  what 
the  customer  is  saying  about  your  products." 

To  stay  on  top  of  evolving  customer  de- 
mands, GM  employs  the  Continuous  Auto- 
motive Marketing  Survey.  At  regular  intervals 
after  a  car  is  bought — starting  soon  after  the 
purchase  and  continuing  through  the  fifth 
year  of  ownership — GM  surveys  the  owner 
and  asks  how  well  the  car  is  meeting  his  or 
her  expectations. 

Customer  surveys  also  enable  GM  to 
fine-tune  its  cars  once  they're  on  the  market, 
Stempel  says.  "For  instance,  a  couple  of 
years  ago,  owners  told  us  that  the  legibility 
of  the  instrument  panels  in  our  trucks  suf- 
fered in  strong  sunlight  or  at  certain  angles. 
We  made  changes  and  polled  customers 
again  to  see  if  they  were  satisfied.  Obviously, 
you  want  to  catch  as  many  of  these  things 
as  you  can  during  pretesting,  but  there's 
nothing  like  going  after  the  person  who's 
bought  a  car  or  truck  to  find  out  what  he 
likes  and  dislikes." 

LESSON  7 

Break  Out  of  the  Boxes 

One  of  the  lessons  of  synchronous  organi- 
zation is  that  it's  no  longer  good  enough  to 
be  just  a  good  designer  or  a  good  industrial 
engineer  or  a  good  production  person. 
Manufacturing  professionals  must  be  pre- 
pared to  cross  the  lines  between  disciplines 
and  learn  how  their  jobs  affect  every  part  of 
the  operation.  They  must  be  ready  to  give 
up  the  comfortable,  insulated  boxes  they've 
worked  in  for  so  long,  Stempel  says. 

"Some  people  put  an  awful  lot  of  empha- 
sis on  particular  disciplines,"  Stempel  says. 
"1  put  a  lot  of  emphasis  instead  on  education. 
It  doesn't  matter  whether  you're  an  engineer, 
a  physicist,  a  chemist  or  a  financial  person. 
All  of  those  disciplines  have  a  place,  but  ev- 
ery one  of  them  begins  with  a  fundamental 
education,  training  and  logic  in  the  way  you 
do  things. 

"There  are  no  more  one-man  bands.  I 
can't  run  General  Motors  by  myself.  It  takes 
the  coordinated  effort  of  a  lot  of  people.  Per- 
haps it  was  my  education  at  WPI,  but  some- 
where along  the  line  I  learned  that  you  must 
depend  on  others — that  you're  going  to  need 
the  skills  of  others — so  you  must  learn  to 
bring  out  the  best  in  people.  That's  what 
you  have  to  do  today. 

"This  business  is  complex,  whether 
you're  looking  at  it  as  a  financial  analyst,  or 
whether  you're  looking  at  it  as  an  engineer," 
Stempel  adds.  "Success  depends  on  more 
than  one  man  and  more  than  one  discipline. 
You've  got  to  manage  all  of  those  disciplines 
in  a  cohesive  manner  to  bring  out  the  best 
in  the  organization." 


WPI  Journal 


The  New  Wave  in 


Manufacturing 

Rv  Paroi  Pamprfi  I  ^^ 


More  and  more,  manufacturing  companies  are 
discovering  that  the  key  to  quality  and  competitive- 
ness lies  in  unleashing  the  hearts  and  minds — and 
not  just  the  muscles — of  their  employees. 

Once,  the  twin  targets  of  productivity  and  profitability  were  the  major 
concerns  of  manufacturing  executives  everywhere.  The  bottom  line 
was  simple:  find  ways  to  make  products  more  quickly  and  less  expen- 
sively than  the  competition.  In  the  1970s  and  early  1980s,  automation 
seemed  the  best  hope  for  reaching  those  targets  and  gaining  a  competitive 
edge.  With  the  proper  programming,  it  was  thought,  robots  could  do  just 
about  any  job  better  and  cheaper  than  human  workers,  saving  companies 
time  and  money. 

Today,  while  automation  continues  to  play  an  important  and  ever-growing 
role  in  industry,  manufacturing  managers  have  learned  that  robots  will 
probably  never  truly  take  the  place  of  people  on  the  factory  floor.  Instead, 
driven  in  large  part  by  the  success  of  their  overseas  competitors,  especially 
the  Japanese,  American  manufacturers  are  turning  more  and  more  to  tech- 
niques aimed  at  empowering  their  employees  and  unleashing  their  potential. 

The  techniques  go  by  a  variety  of  names,  but  they  share  a  common  purpose: 
making  workers  true  partners  in  the  pursuit  of  competitiveness.  Increasingly, 
competitiveness  itself  is  being  redefined,  for  most  manufacturing  executives 
now  agree  that  a  successful  company  must  do  more  than  simply  make 
products  faster  and  cheaper;  it  must  be  able  to  anticipate  and  meet  the 
constantly  rising  expectations  of  consumers. 

Where  once  corporations  tended  to  look  at  workers  as  interchangeable, 
often  disposable  cogs  in  the  manufacturing  operation,  today  they  are  valued 
as  individuals  with  a  wealth  of  talent,  insight  and  creativity  that  can  be 
harnessed  to  help  design  and  build  quality  products.  In  this  brave  new  world, 
where  quality  is  king,  even  the  traditional  relationship  between  management 
and  labor  is  being  replaced  with  a  new  model.  Today,  managers  are  likely  to 
join  their  employees  in  quality  circles  and  manufacturing  cells  to  work 
cooperatively  to  refine  and  continually  improve  the  way  their  companies  make 
products. 

In  the  following  pages,  seven  alumni  employed  as  manufacturing  execu- 
tives at  major  American  companies  talk  about  how  those  firms  are  riding  this 
new  wave  in  manufacturing. 


Carol  Campbell  is  a  free-lance  writer  living  in  Sturbridge,  Mass. 
10  Winter  1992 


The  Image  of 
Quality  at  Polaroid 

Ronald  P.  May  64 

Manufacturing  Program  Manager 
Polaroid  Corp. 
Waltham,  Mass. 

Polaroid,  the  leader  in  instant  photog- 
raphy since  it  introduced  the  Land  Cam- 
era in  1948,  is  constantly  tracking  the  evolv- 
ing demands  of  consumers  to  assure  that  its 
products  are  in  tune  with  them,  according 
to  Ronald  Klay.  "We  want  to  deliver  quality 
products  based  on  the  perceptions  and 
needs  of  the  consumer." 

Klay  is  currently  in  the  midst  of  a  project 
that  involves  managing  the  development  of  a 
new  instant  camera  and  film  system  from  the 
concept  stage  through  design  and  manufac- 
turing. Code-named  "Joshua,"  Klay  says  the 
product  will  go  on  the  market  later  this  year. 

As  part  of  the  Joshua  program,  Polaroid 
is  using  a  new  approach  to  product  develop- 
ment that  calls  for  the  entire  process  to  be 
supervised  by  the  same  management  team, 
he  says.  This  team  approach  has  carried 
over  to  the  manufacturing  floor,  where  work- 
ers have  been  organized  into  work  units  re- 
sponsible for  understanding  and  managing 
the  entire  manufacturing  process. 

"Sometimes  there  is  resistance  to  change 
like  this,"  Klay  says,  "but  generally  people 
are  willing  to  try  new  ways  of  doing  things. 
They're  seeking  a  feeling  of  ownership  in  the 
products  they  make  and  some  influence  in 
the  decision-making  process.  This  is  what 
we  hope  to  make  possible  through  the  team 
concept  approach." 

To  get  the  process  under  way,  Klay  says 
he  has  had  to  successfully  integrate  employ- 
ees from  several  of  Polaroid's  operating 


Ronald  Klay  shows  off  some  of  the  advanced 
automated  equipment  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  film  at  Polaroid. 


units.  "When  a  team  is  established,"  he 
explains,  "a  significant  adjustment  and  train- 
ing period  is  required.  The  employees  are 
reoriented  to  their  new  jobs,  and  managers 
who  have  not  had  direct  involvement  in 
manufacturing  find  themselves  actively 
engaged  in  operational  concerns  related 
to  assembly." 

Klay  says  the  film  manufacturing  opera- 
tions, for  which  he  is  directly  responsible, 
will  make  significant  advances  in  manufac- 
turing technology.  "With  the  use  of  sophisti- 
cated management  information  system 
(MIS)  software,  we  will  monitor  the  con- 
sumption of  raw  materials  and  the  system 
performance  in  real  time,"  he  says.  "The 
assembly  process  will  be  fully  controlled  by 
computers  and  will  be  operated  as  a  modu- 
lar system.  Essentially,  that  means  that  each 
major  operation  will  operate  independently 
of  the  others,  but  be  interconnected  by 
computerized  conveyors.  Should  one  part 
of  the  line  have  to  stop,  the  others  will  con- 
tinue, with  partly  assembled  product  being 
placed  temporarily  into  in-line  storage  until 
the  affected  operation  resumes." 


The  assembly  process 
will  also  make  use  of  a 
monitoring  system  called  a 
vision  analyzer.  The  analyz- 
ers, developed  by  a  Need- 
ham,  Mass.,  company  called 
Cognex,  record  images  of 
the  product  at  key  points  in 
the  assembly  process  and  convert  them  to 
digital  information.  The  digitized  images  are 
then  statistically  analyzed  to  evaluate  how 
closely  the  product  falls  within  predeter- 
mined control  limits.  Processes  that  fall  out- 
side these  limits  are  immediately  corrected, 
greatly  increasing  the  consistency  of  the 
end  product. 

Klay  joined  Polaroid  as  a  production 
supervisor  in  1971  after  working  as  a  manu- 
facturing engineer  at  Texas  Instruments  in 
Attleboro,  Mass.,  and  serving  as  president  of 
and  a  partner  in  South  Shore  Metal  Products 
Inc.  in  Braintree,  Mass.  He  was  named  manu- 
facturing manager  in  1982  and  recently 
became  manufacturing  program  manager. 

Klay  says  Polaroid  is  actively  restructur- 
ing all  of  its  design  and  manufacturing  capa- 
bilities to  take  advantage  of  the  benefits  of 
the  team  concept.  "The  bottom  line  is  qual- 
ity in  both  product  consistency  and  photo- 
graphic performance,"  he  says.  "I  think  the 
team  approach  we've  implemented  with  the 
Joshua  project,  as  well  as  the  advances  in 
manufacturing  technology  we've  made,  go 
a  long  way  toward  meeting  that  objective." 


Improving  Quality  with  People  Power 


William  C.  Zinno  '63 

Vice  President  of  Manufacturing 
Miller  Electric  Manufacturing  Co. 
Appleton,  Wise. 

Those  close  to  manufacturing  operations 
recognize  that  the  work  force  is  chang- 
ing," William  Zinno  says.  "Today's  produc- 
tion workers  want  more  say  in  the  decisions 
that  directly  affect  them.  We  managers  also 
want  to  involve  more  employees  in  the  deci- 
sion-making process.  We  want  them  to  bring 
their  minds — as  well  as  their  hands — to 
their  jobs." 


To  do  so,  Miller  Electric,  whose  products 
include  electric  arc-welding  power  supplies 
and  related  equipment,  is  in  the  midst  of  a 
pilot  employee  empowerment  effort  it 
launched  in  1990.  Under  the  program,  the 
company  has  organized  production  workers 
into  a  manufacturing  team  consisting  of  a 
production  coordinator  and  about  75  em- 
ployees, all  focused  on  producing  a  single 
product  line.  The  group  acts  as  a  self-man- 
aged business  unit,  determining  its  own 
staffing,  scheduling  and  so  on. 

The  team  uses  a  consensus  approach  to 
determine  whether  or  not  changes  need  to 
be  made  in  the  product  or  in  the  processes 


WPI  Journal 


11 


used  to  manufacture  it,  Zinno  says.  "While 
the  decisions  may  sometimes  be  a  bit 
slower  in  coming,  they  are  usually  much 
better  than  those  made  by  a  single  indi- 
vidual, and  people  are  committed  to  them." 

Zinno  says  Miller's  pilot  manufacturing 
area  is  deliberately  compact.  "The  group's 
final  assembly  line  builds  just  what  is 
needed  each  day,  which  drastically  cuts  the 
amount  of  inventory  and  the  lead  time  nor- 
mally needed  to  manufacture  the  products." 

Before  the  business  unit  approach,  the 
assembly  line  operated  in  a  traditional  man- 
ner, with  items  assembled  in  several  steps 
by  separate  groups  of  workers  in  different 
locations.  For  example,  to  make  electric 
transformers,  one  group  would  wind  the 
coils,  a  second  would  crimp  the  ends,  a 
third  would  assemble  the  coils  into  mag- 
netic cores,  and  a  fourth  would  do  the  re- 
quired welding  of  the  transformer  assembly. 

Within  the  business  unit,  every  worker  is 
trained  to  do  many  jobs,  and  the  team  as  a 
whole  is  responsible  for  getting  the  product 
made.  This  cross-training  enables  workers 
to  switch  operations  according  to  the 
changing  work  load  on  the  assembly  line, 
which  makes  the  manufacturing  process 
more  efficient  and  responsive.  But  even 
more,  Zinno  says,  because  workers  are  so 
thoroughly  involved  in  the  product,  they 
feel  a  greater  sense  of  responsibility  for  and 
commitment  to  its  quality. 

"Workers  can  better  see  how  their  jobs 
affect  the  end  customer,"  he  says.  "Another 


advantage  of  this  approach 
is  that  employees  become 
intensely  dedicated  to  the 
company  because  of  the  free- 
dom we  allow  them  to  have 
in  their  jobs." 

Miller  Electric  was 
founded  in  1929  in  the  base- 
ment of  Niels  C.  Miller,  who 
made  one  of  the  first  direct- 
current  welders  and  began 
by  selling  the  devices  to  lo- 
cal blacksmiths.  Today 
Miller's  descendants  run  an 
international  enterprise  that 
employs  more  than  1,600 
people.  The  company's  primary  customers 
are  distribution  networks  for  welding  supply 
companies  who,  in  turn,  sell  equipment  to 
end  users  such  as  fabricators  and  body 
shops.  Miller's  competition  comes  largely 
from  three  domestic  manufacturers,  who 
sell  to  many  of  the  same  distributors. 

"There  is  fierce  competition  in  the  cost 
and  quality  of  the  product,"  Zinno  notes. 
"The  challenge  is  to  run  with  less  inventory 
and  lower  production  costs,  while  at  the 
same  time  maintaining  a  primary  focus  on 
improving  quality." 

By  looking  at  its  manufacturing  opera- 
tions from  the  perspective  of  its  employees, 
Miller  hopes  to  achieve  the  kind  of  world- 
class  quality  it  needs  to  make  its  products 
stand  apart  from  those  of  its  competitors, 
Zinno  says.  "To  make  improvements  in  our 


Zinno,  center,  listens  to  a  briefing  by  a  member 
of  a  manufacturing  team,  part  of  Miller  Electric's 
employee  empowerment  program. 


products  and  processes,  Miller  has  always 
focused  on  people  rather  than  things.  We 
will  continue  to  follow  that  philosophy  in 
the  years  to  come." 

Prior  to  coming  to  Miller  in  1990,  Zinno 
was  vice  president  of  manufacturing  at  the 
Turbo  Products  Division  of  Dresser  Rand  in 
Olean,  N.Y.  In  his  present  position  he  handles 
all  plant  operations,  including  assembly,  fab- 
rication, production  control,  maintenance, 
and  plant  engineering.  "What  has  made  this 
job  truly  exciting  for  me  is  the  opportunity  to 
branch  out  and  develop  this  pilot  employee- 
empowerment  process,"  he  says. 

Zinno  says  the  pilot  program,  which  he 
describes  as  promising,  is  continually  im- 
proving and  maturing.  He  says  the  company 
plans  to  expand  it  throughout  its  manufac- 
turing operation  in  the  months  ahead. 


Gearing  Up  To  Make  a  Medical  Wonder 


Christine  Powers  '75 

Director  of  Manufacturing 
Biopure  Corp. 
Boston,  Mass. 

You've  been  involved  in  a  car  accident 
and  you've  lost  a  lot  of  blood.  As  emer- 
gency crews  work  to  stabilize  your  vital 
signs,  you  begin  to  go  into  shock.  At  one 
time  medical  technicians  may  have  had  few 
options  other  than  wrapping  you  in  a  blan- 
ket and  keeping  you  comfortable  until  you 
reached  a  hospital,  where  doctors  could  do 
a  transfusion  to  replace  the  lost  blood  vol- 
ume and  get  oxygen  to  your  cells.  In  the  fu- 
ture they'll  be  able  to  do  more,  thanks  to 
researchers  at  Biopure  Corp.,  makers  of  a 
hemoglobin-based  blood  substitute  that  can 
be  administered  on  the  spot  through  a 
simple  injection — without  the  need  for 
cross-matching  of  blood  types. 

For  Boston-based  Biopure,  a  biotechnol- 
ogy firm  that  has  until  now  been  involved 
strictly  with  research  and  development,  the 


production  of  this  new  product  will  mark 
its  first  experience  with  manufacturing, 
notes  Christine  Powers,  who  is  responsible 
for  Biopure 's  manufacturing  operations. 

Before  joining  Biopure,  Powers  worked 
as  a  process  engineer  for  Clairol  Inc.  and 
Armor-Dial  Inc.  She  later  joined  Baxter 
Travenol  Labs  Inc.,  where  she  ultimately 
became  a  product  manager.  "I  was  lured  to 


Powers  examines  a 
sample  of  Biopure's 
first  product,  a  blood 
substitute. 


Biopure  in  1989  by  the  start-up 
opportunity — by  the  chance  to 
build  an  organization  that  I  be- 
lieve is  necessary,"  she  says. 

Having  hired  most  of 
Biopure's  16  manufacturing  em- 
ployees (the  company,  founded 
in  1984,  currently  employs  81 
people),  Powers  is  now  training 
them  to  work  within  the  con- 
straints of  a  pharmaceutical  manufacturing 
environment  and  to  adhere  to  strict  Food 
and  Drug  Administration  (FDA)  regulations. 
The  company  has  already  initiated  the  first 
part  of  a  three-part  FDA  review  to  determine 
the  safety  and  effectiveness  of  Biopure's  first 
product  in  humans.  Previously,  the  company 
performed  a  lengthy  series  of  tests  on 
animals  in  support  of  this  submission. 


12 


Winter  1992 


In  addition  to  humans,  animals  will  also 
benefit  from  the  new  product.  In  fact,  Bio- 
pure  will  become  the  only  company  to  mar- 
ket a  blood  substitute  to  veterinary  clinics. 
The  market  for  the  product  in  human  medi- 
cal treatment,  on  the  other  hand,  will  be  far 
more  competitive,  Powers  says.  For  this 
reason,  the  company  has  signed  a  strategic 
agreement  with  Upjohn  Co.,  which  will 
handle  all  marketing  and  distribution  for 
the  human  product  in  the  U.S. 

Powers  says  the  production  process 
used  to  make  the  blood  substitute,  devel- 


oped at  a  pilot  manufacturing  facility  in 
Boston,  begins  with  the  product's  raw 
material — blood  from  slaughtered  cattle. 
The  red  blood  cells  are  separated  and 
broken  open,  so  their  hemoglobin  can  be 
recovered.  The  hemoglobin  is  then  refined 
in  a  patented  process  that  includes  an  ex- 
tensive purification  step. 

Of  particular  importance  is  a  filtration 
system  that  separates  the  blood  before  it  is 
purified,  Powers  says.  "This  process  allows 
us  to  produce  large  quantities  of  the  prod- 
uct at  a  relatively  low  cost,"  she  adds. 


Because  the  entire  operation  is  carried  out 
in  a  controlled  environment,  workers  must 
wear  "bunny  suits"  that  completely  cover 
their  bodies,  Powers  adds. 

Current  plans  call  for  the  animal  product 
to  hit  the  market  in  1993,  with  the  human 
product  to  follow  in  1994  or  1995.  Powers, 
who  says  she  is  confident  that  the  new 
product  will  receive  a  positive  response  in 
both  of  its  markets,  is  currently  preparing 
the  company  for  a  comprehensive  effort 
to  gear  up  its  production  facilities  to  meet 
the  anticipated  demand. 


A  Focus  on  People 
Issues  at  Du  Pont 

David  F.  Gilbert  '54 

Manufacturing  Resources  Manager 
Du  Pont  Co. 
Wilmington,  Del. 

Founded  in  1802  to  make  gunpowder, 
Du  Pont  today  is  a  $40  billion  operation 
that  manufactures  a  host  of  products,  in- 
cluding chemicals,  synthetic  fibers,  elect- 
ronics and  polymers.  Each  of  the  company's 
seven  principal  business  sectors,  as  well  as 
Du  Pont's  Conoco  subsidiary,  could  consti- 
tute a  Fortune  500  company  in  its  own  right. 

David  Gilbert,  with  Du  Pont  for  37  years, 
joined  the  company's  engineering  services 
division  field  program  just  after  completing 
his  military  service  in  1956.  This  training 
program  was  attractive,  he  says,  because  at 
the  time  he  wasn't  sure  what  he  wanted  to 
do  in  his  career.  Over  an  eight-year  period 
Gilbert  worked  on  assignments  in  four  loca- 
tions, gaining  experience  in  engineering 
development,  research,  new  processes 
and  management. 

Deciding  upon  the  management  route, 
Gilbert  transferred  out  of  engineering  into 
an  industrial  department  and  now  works  in 


Du  Pont  wants  to  more  fully  involve  employees 
ical  manufacturing  sites  in  the  operation  of  the 


the  chemical  manufacturing  division  of  the 
chemical  sector.  Over  the  years  he  has  held 
a  variety  of  supervisory  positions,  including 
plant  manager  at  four  locations  and  techni- 
cal consultant  in  a  joint  venture  with  a 
Japanese  company. 

In  his  current  post  he  serves  as  a  re- 
source for  the  manufacturing  staff  at  all 
28  of  the  chemical  sector's  manufacturing 
sites,  handling  personnel  matters  and  serv- 
ing as  a  representative  to  various  other 
departments.  While  many  of  his  challenges 
involve  employee  safety  and  environmental 
awareness  (Du  Pont  boasts  the  lowest  in- 
jury rate  in  the  world  and  is  the  leader  in 
the  elimination  of  ozone-damaging  fluoro- 
carbons  from  refrigerants  and  solvent  prod- 
ucts), he  says  Du  Pont  has,  over  the  last  10 
years,  turned  its  attention  more  and  more 
to  the  "people"  aspect  of  running  the 
corporation. 

Like  so  many  other  companies,  Du  Pont 
is  trying  to  break  down  the  rigid  corporate 
hierarchy  in  favor  of  a  total  team  approach. 
Gilbert  says  there  is  an  effort  to  remove  lay- 
ers of  management,  while  maintaining 
strong  employee  motivation. 

"We're  working  harder  at  including  all 
levels  of  employees  in  the 
business  aspects  of  our 
operations,"  Gilbert  says. 
"By  sharing  more  business 
information  with  employees 
and  increasing  their  in- 
volvement with  our  cus- 
tomers, I  think  we've  made 
our  employees  feel  they  are 
more  'in  on  the  action.'  I 
think  they  also  have  a  bet- 
ter appreciation  of  how 
they  can  add  value  to  our 
business  effort." 

He  acknowledges  that 
at  its  28  chem-      the  breakdown  of  tradi- 
company.  tional  management  roles 


\ 


psSiSWS'l'lS: 


Du  Pont's  David  Gilbert. 

has  created  a  new  problem — how  to  assure 
that  workers  can  still  advance  within  the 
corporation  and  be  recognized  for  their  indi- 
vidual contributions.  Gilbert  says  Du  Pont's 
management  teams  are  working  to  support 
the  greater  contributions  of  employees 
through  increased  recognition  and  rewards. 

"At  our  operating  sites,  plant  managers 
have  been  given  more  authority  to  identify 
and  reward  employees  and  teams  for  their 
value-added  contributions,"  he  says. 

Diversity  is  another  key  focus  at  Du  Pont 
today,  Gilbert  notes.  "We  are  a  global  com- 
pany with  a  whole  range  of  cultures  repre- 
sented in  our  people,"  he  says.  "We're 
learning  to  appreciate  the  value  of  this 
diversity  and  to  utilize  the  best  inputs  of 
all  our  people  in  our  business." 

Another  "people  issue"  receiving  increas- 
ing attention  at  Du  Pont,  Gilbert  says,  is  the 
recognition  that  a  successful  career  does 
not  necessarily  have  to  lead  to  a  position  in 
management.  "When  I  was  coming  up  in  the 
organization,  it  seemed  that  the  managerial 
route  was  the  best  way  to  advance.  Now  I 
feel  Du  Pont  has  established  the  technical 
or  professional  and  the  managerial  routes  as 
ways  to  motivate  and  reward  contributions. 
One  of  the  values  of  this  is  you  don't  end  up 
creating  poor  managers  out  of  outstanding 
technical  or  professional  people." 


WPI  Journal 


13 


Raising  Standards  by  Raising  Awareness 


Stuart  C.  Kazin  '61 

Vice  President  of  Manufacturing 
and  Distribution,  Worldwide 
Lotus  Development  Corp. 
Cambridge,  Mass. 

YY  hen  Lotus  Development  Corp.  made 
"  *    its  debut  in  the  computer  software 
world  in  1982,  it  quickly  became  a  leader  in 
application  software  packages.  Within  four 
years  the  company  was  a  $225  million  multi- 
national corporation  whose  major  product, 
Lotus  1-2-3,  had  become  the  all-time  best- 
selling  personal  computer  software  product. 

However,  intense  competition  among 
makers  of  personal  computer  software  over 
the  past  decade  has  shrunk  the  effective  life 
span  of  new  products  to  less  than  a  year,  on 
average,  increasing  pressure  on  publishers 
like  Lotus  to  upgrade  their  software  as 
quickly  and  efficiently  as  possible. 

To  retain  its  position  as  a  leader  in  soft- 
ware development,  Stuart  Kazin  says  Lotus 
is  currently  developing  a  new  type  of  prod- 
uct called  "groupwear,"  which  is  designed 


to  facilitate  communications  within  a  com- 
pany. The  products  will  include  Notes,  which 
will  allow  an  entire  company  to  access  in- 
formation in  a  single  database  at  the  same 
time,  and  CCMail,  an  electronic  mail  system 
developed  by  a  California  company 
acquired  by  Lotus. 

Kazin  says  he  spends  a  great  deal  of  his 
time  traveling  between  Lotus'  Cambridge, 
Puerto  Rico,  Dublin,  and  Singapore  manufac- 
turing locations,  where  he  strives  "to  build 
strength  from  the  inside  out."  High  on  his 
agenda  these  days  is  diversity-awareness 
training. 

Kazin  and  his  staff  have  identified  a  need 
to  draw  employees  closer  by  having  them 
acknowledge  their  differences  and  the  po- 
tential to  use  those  differences  in  a  positive 
manner  in  product  development.  To  do 
this,  Lotus  hired  consultants  who  trained 
selected  staff  members  in  diversity  aware- 
ness. These  staff  members  now  supervise 
three-day  workshops  that  focus  on  stereo- 
types, beliefs  and  diversity,  among  other 
topics.  More  than  500  of  Lotus'  2,000  U.S. 


A  worker  adjusts  equipment  that  copies  computer  disks  at  Lotus'  manufacturing 
facility  in  Cambridge,  Mass.  The  company  produces  100,000  disks  every  day. 


Lotus'  Stuart  Kazin. 

employees  have  completed  the  training,  and 
Kazin  says  he  has  already  seen  improve- 
ments in  energy  levels,  quality  of  perfor- 
mance, and  business  orientation. 

Kazin's  background  includes  a  master's 
degree  in  aeronautics  and  astronautics  from 
MIT,  a  stint  as  general  manager  of  the  Preci- 
sion Measurement  Division  of  Dynamics  Re- 
search Corp.  in  Wilmington,  Mass.,  and  a  job 
as  general  manager  of  the  analytical  division 
of  Foxboro  Corp.,  a  maker  of  process-con- 
trol systems.  He  joined  Lotus  in  1985  as 
director  of  manufacturing  and  distribution 
and  was  named  a  vice  president  in  1988. 

Manufacturing  at  Lotus  means  making 
duplicate  copies  of  software  products  on 
disks— 100,000  disks  a  day— and  packaging 
them  with  written  documentation  into 
boxes  that  are  then  shrink-wrapped.  While 
the  manufacturing  process  is  fairly  conven- 
tional, Kazin  says  he  hopes  to  improve 
productivity  through  the  use  of  diversity- 
awareness  training. 

He  says  he  also  plans  to  build  on  the 
positive  outcomes  of  the  awareness  training 
by  forming  a  cross  section  of  Lotus  workers 
into  Corrective  Action  Teams  (CATs).  The 
CATs  will  draw  on  the  knowledge  of  indi- 
viduals from  different  segments  of  the 
manufacturing  field  to  attack  and  quickly 
solve  any  customer  problems  or  concerns. 
The  solutions  to  those  problems  will  be  in- 
corporated into  the  next  generation  of  soft- 
ware products.  Kazin  says  this  "systematic 
quality-improvement  process,"  for  which 
the  CATs  will  be  responsible,  is  essential 
in  today's  competitive  software  industry. 

"Your  definition  of  quality  must  be  based 
on  customers'  requirements,"  he  says. 
"When  these  requirements  are  not  met,  you 
vigorously  solve  the  problem  and  solve  it 
forever.  When  mistakes  are  made,  I  like  to 
see  them  be  'innovative  mistakes.'" 


14 


Winter  1992 


Bringing  Automation  to 
The  Oil  and  Gas  Industry 

William  U.  Pursell  Jr.  '59 

Vice  President  of  Manufacturing 
Cameo  Products  and  Services  Co. 
Houston,  Texas 


Cameo  supplies  a  variety  of  production 
and  safety  equipment  used  in  oil  and 
gas  wells,  most  of  which  are  located  off- 
shore. Competition  among  manufacturers 
of  this  equipment  has  become  especially 
fierce  in  recent  years,  according  to  William 
Pursell.  In  response,  he  says,  Cameo  has 
turned  increasingly  to  automation. 

For  some  of  its  processes,  the  company 
has  been  a  major  innovator  of  manufactur- 
ing systems  that  employ  automatic  turning 
and  milling  machines,  which  have  built-in 
chuck  jaw  changers,  tool  storage,  and  mea- 
suring devices.  The  machines  are  supported 
by  robots  that  load  and  unload  parts,  by 
coordinate  measuring  machines,  and  by 
two  automatic  guided  vehicles  (AGVs) 
that  move  parts  about  the  plant. 

"This  automated  equipment  is  arranged 
into  cells  in  our  new  factory,"  Pursell  says. 
"The  AGVs  carry  parts  from  the  machining 
operation  cell  to  the  coating  and  audit  in- 
spection areas,  and  then  return  them  to  the 
machining  cells.  We  call  this  our  flexible 
manufacturing  systems  or  FMS  shop." 

The  market  in  which  Cameo  competes 


is  changing,  Pursell  says. 
"Where  once  customers 
were  concerned  primarily 
about  quality  and  perfor- 
mance," he  says,  "the 
market  is  now  quite  price 
sensitive,  though  customers 
still  demand  high  quality  in 
our  products.  Cameo  is  a 
customer-driven  company. 
Our  objective  is  to  meet  our 
customers'  requirements 
with  a  reasonable  return 
to  our  investors." 

The  equipment  and 
systems  employed  in 
Cameo's  FMS  shop  enable 
the  company  to  make  its  products  economi- 
cally in  small  lots.  For  example,  Pursell  says, 
because  they  can  quickly  switch  between 
various  tools  and  processes,  the  milling 
and  turning  machines  can  make  all  the 
machined  parts  needed  for  an  assembly  in 
one  session.  "This  results  in  shorter  deliv- 
ery time  and  reduces  the  amount  of  work 
we  have  in  progress,"  he  notes. 

Pursell  says  automated  systems  like 
this  will  be  the  key  to  the  future  success 
of  companies  like  his.  "The  bottom  line  here 
is  profitability,"  he  says.  "Automation  will 
enable  us  to  lower  our  costs  and  become 


Some  of  the  components  of  Cameo's  flexible  manufacturing  systems  (FMS) 
shop  can  be  seen  in  this  photo:  at  top,  left,  the  turning  and  milling  machine; 
at  top,  center,  a  robot  that  loads  and  unloads  parts  for  the  machine;  and  at 
bottom,  right,  an  automatic  guided  vehicle  that  moves  parts  around  the  plant. 


Pursell,  at  right,  and  two  workers  examine  an  auto- 
mated turning  and  milling  machine,  part  of  Cameo's 
modern  FMS  facility. 


more  competitive  overall." 

Pursell's  expertise  in  manufacturing 
comes  from  30  years  of  experience  in  the 
field.  He  began  his  career  in  1962  as  a 
project  engineer  at  SKF  Industries  Inc.,  mak- 
ers of  ball  and  roller  bearings.  He  became  a 
plant  manager  before  leaving  in  1973  to  join 
Reed  Tool  Co.  in  Houston  as  materials  man- 
ager. He  also  worked  briefly  for  Hydril  Co., 
producers  of  premium  threads  on  produc- 
tion tubing  used  in  oil  and  gas  wells,  and  for 
Hinderliter  Energy  Equipment  Corp.,  fabrica- 
tor of  wire-rope  sheaves,  traveling  blocks 
for  cranes,  and  low-pressure  well  heads. 

At  Cameo,  Pursell  is  responsible  for 
plant  maintenance,  purchasing,  manufactur- 
ing engineering,  materials  management  and 
the  "direct-hour"  employees  who  run  the 
machines.  When  Cameo  hires,  he  says,  it 
looks  for  highly  skilled  and  well-trained 
workers,  as  well  as  degreed  mechanical 
and  electrical  engineers  with  expertise  in 
manufacturing.  "These  qualifications  add  a 
degree  of  sophistication  to  our  manufactur- 
ing talents,"  he  says. 

Pursell  says  Cameo  is  currently  review- 
ing its  entire  manufacturing  process — from 
quotations  to  shipment — with  an  eye  to- 
ward reducing  cycle  time.  "Innovations  such 
as  modular  product  drawings,  paperless 
operations,  multifunctional  task  teams,  and 
work  teams  on  the  shop  floor  are  all  helping 
us  achieve  our  goal  of  shorter  lead  times," 
he  says.  "Automation  of  not  only  the  manu- 
facturing process,  but  of  our  communica- 
tions systems  will  be  vital  to  achieving 
that  goal." 

He  notes  that  Cameo  is  also  implement- 
ing the  concept  of  factories  within  factories. 
"These  individual  operating  units  will  have 
their  own  resources  and  their  own  work 


WPI  Journal 


15 


teams,  which  will  focus  on  meeting  our 
customers'  requirements,  as  well  as  on  re- 
ducing the  cost  of  parts  and  improving  our 
quality.  All  employees  within  these  factories 
within  factories  will  be  assigned  to  one  of 
these  teams." 

The  team  approach  is  part  of  Cameo's 


total  quality  management  program,  aimed, 
Pursell  says,  at  meeting  customer  require- 
ments by  getting  all  employees  involved  in 
the  process  of  improving  quality.  In  addi- 
tion, Pursell  says  the  company  is  currently 
developing  a  strategic  quality  plan  "that  will 
serve  as  an  umbrella  for  all  of  our  opera- 


tions. We've  done  well  despite  the  ups  and 
downs  of  the  market.  We  now  have  a  new 
set  of  challenges  facing  us.  By  streamlining 
all  our  manufacturing  operations,  we  will 
meet  these  challenges  and  build  on  the 
qualities  that  have  made  us  successful 
over  the  years." 


Learning  from  the 
Pioneers  at  Clairol 

Richard  R.  Nabb  73 

Vice  President  of  Manufacturing 
Clairol  Inc. 
Stamford,  Conn. 

According  to  Richard  Nabb,  the  market 
for  consumer  hair  care  products  is 
becoming  more  competitive  all  the  time. 
Clairol,  a  subsidiary  of  Bristol-Myers  Squibb 
Co.,  has  long  been  a  market  leader  with  fa- 
miliar brands  like  Miss  Clairol,  Quiet  Touch, 
Loving  Care  and  Final  Net.  Today,  though, 
Nabb  says  Clairol  is  looking  for  new  ways 
to  hold  on  to  that  lead. 

"Consumers  are  not  as  loyal  to  brand 
names  as  they  were  10  years  ago,"  he  says. 
"Today  they  can  choose  from  among  many 
similar  versions  of  the  same  product,  so 
they  look  to  get  the  most  value  for  their 
money.  Before  they  buy,  they  also  consider 
factors  like  ease  of  use,  environmental 
friendliness,  and  the  number  of  applications 
per  package." 

Nabb,  a  19-year  veteran  with  Clairol  (he 
held  a  summer  job  with  the  company  in 
1972,  while  pursuing  his  degree  in  mechani- 
cal engineering  at  WPI,  then  joined  the  com- 
pany full  time  as  a  production  supervisor 
after  graduation),  oversees  packaging,  engi- 
neering, processing,  packaging  materials 
and  purchasing  for  Clairol. 

Until  recently  he  also  handled  ware- 
house and  distribution  operations.  In  an 
effort  to  gain  consistency  and  improve  pro- 
ductivity, Clairol  consolidated  the  ware- 
house, distribution,  financial,  and  customer 
service  operations  of  its  consumer  product 
group  with  those  of  the  Bristol-Products  and 
Drackett  divisions  of  Bristol-Myers  (which 
make  such  health-care  products  as  Bufferin 
and  Nuprin  and  such  household  products 
as  Windex,  Draino  and  Renuzit). 

Recently,  Nabb  says,  Clairol  has  begun 
to  focus  on  issues  related  to  technology  and 
human  resources  in  an  effort  to  increase  its 
competitive  edge.  "With  70  percent  of  our 
product  assembly  and  packaging  processes 
handled  by  machinery,  we  want  the  manu- 
facturing process  to  work  as  smoothly  as 
possible,"  he  notes.  "To  do  this  we  must  pay 


Drawing  on  the  ideas  of  quality 
pioneers  W.  Edwards  Deming  and 
Philip  Crosby,  Clairol  has  embarked 
on  an  innovative  quality  manage- 
ment program,  Richard  Nabb  says. 


careful  attention  to  the  design  of  our  pack- 
ages and  equipment.  In  particular,  we  must 
consider  whether  these  designs  make  good 
use  of  the  capabilities  of  the  manufacturing 
process  as  it  operates  today,  and  anticipate 
rapid  changes  in  manufacturing  technology. 
A  design  is  useless  unless  the  technology 
exists  or  can  be  developed  to  back  it  up." 

One  new  type  of  manufacturing  technol- 
ogy Clairol  is  evaluating  for  its  packaging 
lines  is  the  vision  system,  a  camera  that 
checks  products  for  defects  at  various 
stages  of  the  assembly  process.  The  system 
can  also  spot  potential  jams  in  the  flow  of 
partly  assembled  products  and  then  stop 
the  process  automatically.  "The  Japanese 
call  this  "Jidohka"  or  auto-no-motion," 
Nabb  says. 

Nabb  says  Clairol  is  currently  using  a 
computer  system  that  tracks  weights,  torque 
and  productivity  during  the  assembly  of 
containers  of  liquid  products,  like  shampoo, 
hair  color  and  fixative,  to  verify  that  they 
are  being  filled  and  packaged  properly.  The 
system  reduces  the  number  of  containers 
that  must  be  rejected  at  the  end  of  the  pro- 
cess because  they  do  not  meet  customer 
requirements. 

Before  the  computerized  control  system 
was  installed,  the  weight  checks  were 
tracked  manually,  which  was  inefficient. 
The  computer  is  also  much  more  accurate 


than  manual  weighing,  Nabb  says,  and  al- 
lows an  operator  to  anticipate  problems 
and  take  corrective  action,  which  further 
reduces  errors. 

Drawing  on  the  philosophies  of  quality 
pioneers  W  Edwards  Deming  and  Philip 
Crosby,  Clairol  is  adopting  an  innovative 
quality  management  program.  At  the  heart 
of  the  program,  Nabb  says,  is  an  effort  to 
invest  in  Clairol's  shop-floor  employees  by 
providing  them  with  additional  training  and 
by  raising  their  educational  levels.  For  ex- 
ample, through  the  company's  Quality  Skills 
Enhancement  Program,  workers  can  im- 
prove their  reading  and  math  skills. 

The  quality  management  program  is  an 
outgrowth  of  Clairol's  Quality/Productivity 
Improvement  Process  or  Q/PIP.  Through 
training  and  education,  the  program  encour- 
ages workers  to  become  thoroughly  familiar 
with  their  jobs  and  with  the  processes  to 
which  they  contribute.  Q/PIP  also  seeks  to 
make  the  workplace  a  "quality  culture"  by 
teaching  workers  to  embrace  diversity  and 
engage  in  cooperative  problem  solving. 

Q/PIP  is  an  alternative  to  traditional 
approaches  to  management,  which  Nabb 
says  "are  not  effective  methods  to  manage 
change  in  the  current  marketplace."  Under 
the  program,  senior  managers  at  each  work 
site  are  given  responsibility  for  one  or  more 
of  Philip  Crosby's  steps  for  implementing  a 
quality  improvement  process.  These  include 
measuring  quality,  setting  quality  goals  and 
communicating  them  to  employees,  foster- 
ing employee  education,  and  striving  for 
zero  defects.  Managers  are  responsible  for 
analyzing  and  improving  the  procedures 
and  systems  at  their  sites  that  play  a  role  in 
total  quality  management. 

According  to  Nabb,  Clairol  will  undergo  a 
complete  corporate  changeover  during  the 
next  few  years  as  Q/PIP  is  fully  imple- 
I    mented.  For  example,  managers  will  no 
longer  simply  delegate  work  to  employees; 
instead  they  will  become  leaders  of  work 
groups  that  will  solve  problems  coopera- 
tively. Developing  its  employees  and  giving 
them  the  responsibility  to  work  together  to 
improve  productivity  and  quality  will  ulti- 
mately give  Clairol  the  competitive  edge  it 
seeks,  Nabb  says.  "The  company  that  can 
get  and  keep  the  best  and  the  brightest  will 
be  the  winner." 


16 


Winter  1992 


Flights  of  Fancy 


Throughout  history,  architects  have  enjoyed  adding 
distinctive  flourishes  to  their  designs,  personal 
touches  that  add  nothing  to  the  structure  or  func- 
tion of  a  building,  but  which  enhance  its  visual 
appeal.  Such  embellishments  as  statues  and 
gargoyles,  decorative  cornices  and  portals, 
ornamental  stonework,  and  multicolored 
patterns  of  brick  help  make  structures 
more  pleasing  to  the  eye,  give  them 
a  sense  of  drama,  importance  or 
even  whimsy,  and  give  each 
building  a  unique  identity. 
While  the  popularity  of 
ornamentation  waned 
during  the  middle  of 
this  century  —  a 
period  that  gave 
us  the  sleek  but 
sterile  glass 


tower — building  designers  are  again  letting  their  imagi- 
nations run  free  and  are  accenting  their  creations 
with  sometimes  unexpected  splashes  of  color, 
texture  and  form. 

At  WPI,  some  bits  of  architectural  orna- 
mentation are  enjoyed  by  even  casual  ob- 
servers— the  arm  and  hammer  weather 
vane  on  the  Washburn  Shops,  for  ex- 
ample, or  the  giant  concrete  seal  on 
the  north  face  of  Goddard  Hall. 
Others,  such  as  the  statue  of 
Minerva  atop  Sanford  Riley 
Hall,  often  go  unnoticed.  In 
these  pages  we  present  a 
sampling  of  flourishes 
and  embellishments 
that  give  the  WPI 
campus  a  look 
all  its  own. 


WPI  Journal 


17 


KENNETH  MCDONNELL 


Making  an  Entrance 

Noted  architect  Stephen  Earle  designed  Salisbury 
Laboratories  20  years  after  the  completion  of  Boynton 
Hall,  also  his  design.  He  was  asked  to  create  a  solid, 
functional  laboratory  building  to  house  the  college's 
science  departments.  Earle  fulfilled  his  charge,  but 
allowed  the  artist  within  him  to  break  loose  here  and 
there  in  the  otherwise  austere  design.  A  close  look 
reveals  how  the  architect  gave  various  functional 
elements  a  quiet  beauty  through  simple  embellish- 
ment, such  as  in  this  arched  brownstone  portal 
adorned  with  a  terra-cotta  Institute  seal.  Salisbury 
Labs  was  the  gift  of  Stephen  Salisbury  III  in  honor  of 
his  father,  the  first  president  of  the  Board  of  Trustees. 


Clear  Artistry 

Alden  Memorial,  currently  undergoing  an  ex- 
tensive renovation,  is  considered  by  many  to  be 
WPl's  most  attractive  building.  Named  for  George 
I.  Alden,  the  college's  first  mechanical  engineer- 
ing professor  and  a  founder  of  Norton  Co.,  the 
building  was  a  gift  of  the  George  1.  Alden  Trust. 
It  is  heavily  embellished — inside  and  out — with 
ornamental  stone  carvings  and  hand-carved 
woodwork.  A  series  of  27  stained  glass  window 
medallions  in  its  great  hall  tell  the  story  of 
American  history,  starting  with  the  early  days  of 
exploration  and  settlement  and  ending  with  the 
inventive  genius  of  the  likes  of  the  Wright  Broth- 
ers and  Samuel  F.B.  Morse.  These  medallions 
were  designed  by  Wilbur  H.  Burnham,  whose 
work  can  also  be  seen  in  the  National  Cathedral 
in  Washington,  D.C. 


Blowin'inthe  Wind 

The  weather  vane  on  the  Washburn  Shops 
tower  is  not  the  same  arm  and  hammer 
that  adorned  the  building  when  it  was 
completed  in  1868.  The  original,  fashioned 
from  a  sketch  made  by  Charles  Morgan, 
then  superintendent  of  Washburn  and 
Moen  Co.  and  later  founder  and  president 
of  Morgan  Construction  Co.,  was  stolen  in 
1 975,  probably  as  a  student  prank,  and  was 
never  returned.  In  1978  a  contractor  work- 
ing on  renovations  to  Washburn  commis- 
sioned a  metal  worker  to  make  a  replica 
based  on  photos  of  the  familiar  landmark. 


18 


Winter  1992 


Medieval  Athletes 

The  grotesques  that  circle  Alumni  Gymnasium,  seem- 
ingly engaged  in  a  variety  of  sports,  are  the  work  of 
Harry  T.  Easton,  a  sculptor  who  specialized  in  build- 
ing embellishments.  Many  of  his  stone  carvings,  in- 
cluding the  gargoyles,  door  and  window  frames,  and 
steps  of  Alumni  Gym,  were  carved  from  limestone 
quarried  near  his  home  in  Bedford,  Ind.  According  to 
Easton's  son  William,  he  had  a  whimsical  streak 
common  to  many  medieval  sculptors;  he  liked  to 
incorporate  the  faces  of  his  clients  into  his  work, 
although  no  records  exist  to  indicate  whether  the 
Alumni  Gym  gargoyles  were  modeled  on  the  faces  of 
former  faculty  or  staff  members. 


CTJ  ffl 


i?n 


The  Goddess  ofSanford  Riley 

This  statue  of  Minerva,  the  Roman  goddess  of 
wisdom,  sits  high  atop  the  roof  of  the  college's 
first  residence  hall,  watching  over  the  occu- 
pants of  this  Tudor-style  building.  The  statue 
was  the  gift  of  the  alumni  of  R.  Sanford  Riley's 
old  fraternity,  Sigma  Alpha  Epsilon.  Riley,  a 
member  of  the  Class  of  1896  and  president  of 
Riley  Stoker  Corp.,  died  in  May  1926,  shortly 
before  he  was  to  be  elected  to  the  WPI  Board  of 
Trustees.  The  statue,  which  served  as  a  finial 
to  the  completed  building,  was  cast  from  lead. 


The  Seal  of  Approval 

This  10-foot-tall,  5-ton  WPI  seal  made  from 
cast  concrete  is  one  of  the  few  flourishes 
on  Goddard  Hall,  an  otherwise  spare,  mod- 
ern building.  The  seal  adorns  the  wall  fac- 
ing heavily  traveled  Salisbury  Street,  form- 
ing an  elegant  signpost  for  the  thousands 
of  cars  that  pass  by  each  week.  Completed 
in  1965,  WPI's  centennial  year,  Goddard  is 
one  of  two  academic  buildings  given  to  the 
Institute  by  the  F.W  Olin  Foundation.  Its 
neighbor,  Olin  Hall  of  Physics,  was  built  in 
1 959.  Goddard,  home  of  the  Chemistry  and 
Chemical  Engineering  departments,  hon- 
ors rocket  pioneer  Robert  H.  Goddard  '08. 


WPI  Journal 


19 


Timeless  Beauty 

The  $500  needed  to  build  the  clock  that  now  looks  down  from  the  tower  of  Boynton  Hall  was  raised  by  the 
Institute's  earliest  students.  Ironically,  the  clock  became  the  bane  of  many  a  student  in  succeeding  years  as  its 
gong  (removed  in  1890)  summoned  them  to  classes  and  tattled  on  those  who  tried  to  slip  into  their  seats  a  few 
minutes  late.  Not  surprisingly,  students  sought  their  revenge  on  more  than  one  occasion  by  stealing  the  clock's 
gilded  hands.  Made,  in  part,  from  1 ,500  pounds  of  cast  iron,  the  clock  was  crafted  by  F.E.  Howard  &Co.  in  Boston. 
It  was  displayed  in  a  store  window  in  downtown  Worcester  for  a  few  days  before  its  installation  on  May  1 7, 1867. 


A  Face  in  the  Garden 

The  home  of  the  late  Aldus 
Higgins,  chairman  of  Norton 
Co.,  Higgins  House  is  an  archi- 
tectural gem,  marked  by  a  de- 
lightful mix  of  materials  and 
styles.  The  house  is  filled  with 
personal  touches  and  flights  of 
pure  whimsy.  The  exterior,  for 
example,  is  decorated  with  gar- 
goyles of  the  animals  that  the 
Higgins  family  spotted  on  the 
property.  This  face  peeks  out 
from  the  ivy  to  greet  visitors  to 
the  exquisite  English  Tudor 
gardens,  a  carefully  planned 
network  of  flower  beds,  arbors, 
hedges  and  brick  walks  that 
adorn  the  Higgins  House 
grounds. 


20 


Winter  1992 


Education 

On  the  Front  lines 


By  Cathy  H.  Kalenian 

Manufacturing  engineering,  WPI's  newest 
accredited  degree  program,  is  preparing 
students  to  help  meet  the  competitive 
challenges  american  industry  faces  today, 
and  to  create  and  manage  the  manufac- 
turing companies  of  tomorrow. 


r 

LJ  or  more  than  125  years,  WPI  has  been  blending 
1     the  theoretical  and  practical  sides  of  engineering 
A    and  applied  science  to  produce  graduates  well- 
equipped  to  manage  the  manufacturing  industries  of  the 
day,  and  to  help  create  the  manufacturing  technologies 
of  tomorrow.  That  tradition  continues  today,  as  the  Insti- 
tute expands  and  enhances  its  unique  educational  and 
research  programs  in  manufacturing. 

During  WPI's  formative  years,  students  balanced 
their  course  work  with  hands-on  practice  in  a  model 
manufacturing  plant  housed  in  the  Washburn  Laborato- 


Professor  Richard  D.  Sisson  Jr.  directs  WPI's  educational  programs  in  manufacturing  engineering 


ries,  the  oldest  building  in  the  nation  used 
continuously  for  engineering  education.  By 
using  state-of-the-art  manufacturing  tools  to 
actually  make  useful  and  marketable  prod- 
ucts, WPl's  early  graduates  gained  insights 
into  the  manufacturing  process  that  helped 
them  found  many  successful  industrial 
firms,  including  such  leading  Worcester 
companies  as  Wyman-Gordon  Co.  and  Riley 
Stoker  Corp. 

In  more  recent  years,  manufacturing 
has  been  utterly  transformed  by  computers, 
robots  and  advances  in  materials  science. 
And  while  American  companies  competed 
primarily  with  one  another  125  years  ago, 
today  they  face  a  heated  battle  for  survival 
in  a  constantly  expanding  global  market- 
place. 

To  educate  a  new  generation  of  gradu- 
ates to  help  American  industry  succeed  on 
this  highly  competitive  stage,  WPI  in  1986 
launched  a  new  degree  program  in  manufac- 
turing engineering.  The  Institute's  newest 
accredited  academic  program,  manufactur- 
ing engineering  is  preparing  students  to 
meet  challenges  WPI's  founders  could 
barely  have  dreamed  of. 

The  roots  of  WPI's  most  recent  manu- 
facturing program  can  be  traced  back  a 
decade  to  a  large  room  on  the  lower  level  of 
the  Washburn  Shops,  the  site  of  the 
Institute's  original  shop  program.  In  1981 
Walter  L.  Abel  '39,  then  vice  president  of 
research  and  development  at  Emhart  Corp. 
(now  part  of  Black  and  Decker),  and  several 
fellow  Emhart  employees  set  up  camp  in 
that  room  to  help  the  Institute  establish  a 
brand  new  laboratory  in  advanced  manufac- 
turing called  the  Manufacturing  Engineering 
Applications  Center  (MEAC). 

Through  this  joint  venture,  Abel,  now 
president  of  Management  of  Technology  in 
Avon,  Conn.,  hoped  to  learn  about  the 
"breaking  technology"  his  company  and  its 
many  divisions  (including  the  Tru-Temper 
Division  and  the  Shoe  Machinery  Division) 
needed  to  remain  competitive. 

Emhart  donated  the  lab's  first  robots  and 
became  its  first  charter  member — followed 
quickly  by  General  Motors  Corp.,  General 
Electric  Co.,  Norton  Co.,  Digital  Equipment 
Corp.  and  Heald  Machine  Corp.  "That  was  a 
time  when  every  company  wanted  robots," 
remembers  current  MEAC  director  Paul  D. 
Cotnoir.  "The  drive  was  to  eliminate  classic 
bottlenecks  on  the  manufacturing  floor 
through  the  use  of  automation.  The  princi- 
pal justification  for  the  use  of  robots  was 
labor  reduction." 

An  Emhart  division  that  made  door-lock 
sets  was  the  first  to  bring  a  real-world  manu- 
facturing problem  to  MEAC.  Working  with 


Smoothing  Out  the  Rough  Edges 


No  matter  how  carefully  they  are 
machined,  most  metal  parts  must 
have  their  edges  smoothed  and  shaped 
before  they  can  be  used.  For  manufacturers 
of  aircraft  engine  parts,  the  processes  of 
edge  contouring  and  deburring  are  espe- 
cially critical.  In  aircraft  engines,  sharp  cor- 
ners can  create  stress  and  adversely  affect 
a  part's  service  life.  On  the  manufacturing 
floor,  burrs  and  rough  edges  can  make  parts 
hard  to  handle  and  assemble.  In  service, 
burrs  can  break  off  and  pass  through  the  en- 
gine, causing  catastrophic  damage. 

In  1991  WPI's  Manufacturing  Engineering 
Applications  Center  (MEAC)  won  a  patent 
for  a  robotic  system  it  developed  in  1988  for 
General  Electric  Co.  The  system  is  capable 
of  precisely  contouring  the  edges  of  aircraft 
parts,  while  at  the  same  time  removing  any 
burrs  it  encounters.  "GE  has  been  a  long- 
time member  of  MEAC,  so  we're  proud  to 
have  earned  a  patent  for  the  company,"  says 
MEAC  director  Paul  Cotnoir,  who  completed 
his  master's  thesis  while  working  on  the 
project. 

Drawing  on  the  work  of  other  research- 
ers, including  a  research  group  at  MIT,  the 
MEAC  team  tested  as  deburring  tools  nylon 
brushes  impregnated  with  abrasives,  abra- 
sive grinding  points  and  various  types  of 
rotary  files.  Because  of  their  ability  to  reach 


the  many  recesses  of  the  complicated  metal 
parts,  and  because  they  can  remove  large 
amounts  of  metal  quickly,  rotary  files  made 
from  tungsten  carbide  were  ultimately 
selected. 

When  the  files  were  attached  to  a  robot 
arm  selected  for  its  high  accuracy  and  stiff- 
ness, the  result  was  a  workstation  that 
could  successfully  edge  and  deburr  the 
titanium  and  superalloy  parts,  using  the 
surfaces  of  the  parts  themselves  as  a  guide. 
Spinning  at  30,000  rpm,  the  files  contoured 
the  edges  of  the  parts  with  an  accuracy  of 
two-thousandths  of  an  inch.  Just  as  impor- 
tant, the  robot  finished  the  task  in  less  than 
an  hour — about  one-sixth  the  time  needed 
to  complete  the  operation  manually — and 
virtually  eliminated  the  need  for  rework  and 
quality  assurance  checks. 

Currently,  WPI  is  engaged  in  a  new 
deburring  project  for  GE,  which  came  about 
when  Arthur  Gerstenfeld,  professor  of  man- 
agement and  director  of  WPI's  Center  for  the 
Management  of  Advanced  Automation  Tech- 
nology, was  contacted  by  the  GE  Defense 
Systems  Division  in  Pittsfield,  Mass.,  which 
makes  transmission  housings  for  the  Brad- 
ley Fighting  Vehicle.  The  division  wanted  to 
develop  a  system  to  automate  the  deburring 
of  the  housings,  a  process  now  done  manu- 
ally with  hand-held  tools.  The  process  is 


MEAC  engineers,  WPI  students  devised  a 
robotic  system  that  could  undertake  the 
labor-intensive  process  of  assembling  the 
various  springs,  small  screws  and  other  in- 
tricate parts.  But  while  the  system  was  not  a 
success — the  robot  took  30  minutes  to  carry 
out  a  task  that  human  workers  could  com- 
plete in  a  tenth  of  that  time — the  project 
demonstrated  the  feasibility  of  automating 
a  complex  manufacturing  process. 

Another  early  MEAC  project  was  the 
Rivet  Tool  Test  System  (RTTS),  which  auto- 
mated the  testing  of  tools  for  Emhart 's  POP 
Fasteners  Division.  Using  a  robot  and  other 
automation  equipment,  RTTS  replaced 
human  operators  in  the  repetitive  task  of 
inserting  and  setting  individual  rivets  and 
observing  the  results  over  a  long  period 
of  time. 

For  Norton  Co.,  MEAC  developed  an 
automated  work  cell  to  unload  and  stack 
grinding  wheels  before  they  were  fired.  The 
system  paid  for  itself  in  less  than  two  years, 


based  largely  on  materials  savings.  While 
MEAC  has  chalked  up  many  other  similar 
success  stories  over  the  years,  its  mission 
has  evolved  along  with  the  notion  of  how 
automation  fits  into  the  manufacturing 
process. 

Initially,  Cotnoir  notes,  many  companies 
hoped  to  see  robots  replace  human  workers 
in  all  manner  of  manufacturing  operations, 
resulting  in  significant  cost  savings.  Today, 
however,  most  manufacturing  executives 
realize  that  robots  are  not  the  answer  to 
every  problem. 

"Robots  still  work  well  in  dangerous  or 
repetitive  operations,  like  welding,"  he  says. 
"But  the  emphasis  is  no  longer  on  develop- 
ing 'islands  of  automation,'  but  on  flexible 
automation — that  is,  systems  that  can  re- 
spond quickly  to  design  changes  and  vari- 
able product  requirements.  While  labor 
savings  are  still  important,  increased  pro- 
duction, efficiency  and  quality  are  even 
more  critical.  Now  we  spend  little  time 


22 


Winter  1992 


Clockwise  from  lower  left,  graduate  student  Fredric  Gold,  Reinaldo  Niella  '92, 
MEAC  Director  Paul  Cotnoir  and  Rodrigo  Gutierrez  '92  use  a  brush  attached  to 
a  robotic  arm  to  deburr  a  sample  of  aluminum  taken  from  a  transmission 
housing  for  the  Bradley  Fighting  Vehicle  (a  complete  housing  is  seen  at  right). 


time-consuming — it  takes  eight  hours  to 
deburr  one  housing — and  inefficient — 95 
percent  of  the  housings  need  some  rework 
after  the  first  deburring. 


Gerstenfeld  referred  the  request  to  John 
J.  Bausch  III,  assistant  professor  of  mechani- 
cal engineering,  who  completed  his  master's 
thesis  at  MIT  in  1983  developing  a  similar 


deburring  system.  Bausch,  in  turn,  received 
a  grant  from  GE  to  create  the  new  system. 

Working  with  Bausch  and  Cotnoir,  grad- 
uate student  Fredric  M.  Gold  has  accepted 
the  task  of  finding  the  best  way  to  remove 
the  burrs.  Because  the  housings  are  made 
of  aluminum,  a  much  softer  metal  than  the 
nickel-based  superalloy  used  in  the  aircraft 
parts,  the  burrs  need  not  be  removed  with 
the  same  degree  of  precision.  Therefore, 
techniques  may  prove  effective  that  were 
unsuccessful  in  the  earlier  project. 

"Although  brushes  did  not  work  for  the 
aircraft  engine  parts,  they  may  work  fine  for 
the  aluminum  transmission  housings,"  Gold 
says.  "Although  this  is  not  considered  preci- 
sion deburring,  the  method  we  choose  must 
be  thorough,  because  if  a  burr  comes  loose 
it  can  seize  the  entire  engine." 

While  undergraduates  Reinaldo  F.  Niella 
'92  and  Rodrigo  R.  Gutierrez  '92,  who  are 
completing  work  on  their  Major  Qualifying 
Project,  experiment  with  different  types  of 
brushes,  Gold  is  investigating  other  meth- 
ods of  deburring,  including  electrochemical 
deburring,  cascade  deburring  and  tumbling. 
The  latter  two  methods  use  hard  particles 
that  rub  against  the  metal  to  wear  down 
the  burrs. 

"We  are  experimenting  with  various 
types  of  media  we  might  use  with  these 
methods,"  Gold  says.  "Anything  hard  can 
be  used — even  walnut  shells.  We  also  need 
to  determine  which  method  will  be  eco- 
nomically feasible  for  GE." 


designing  robot  systems  to  do  specific 
tasks;  instead  we  automate  whole  manufac- 
turing processes  using  a  wide  variety  of 
state-of-the-art  tools  and  techniques.  We 
look  at  the  big  picture,  providing  solutions 
for  the  entire  manufacturing  floor." 

In  recent  years  MEAC  has  also  turned 
its  attention  to  how  automation  can  help 
smaller  industries  that  must  fight  the  same 
battles  for  competitiveness  as  their  larger 
cousins.  With  a  grant  from  the  now  defunct 
Massachusetts  Center  for  Applied  Technol- 
ogy, MEAC  helped  introduce  computer- 
aided  design  and  manufacturing  (CAD/CAM) 
to  the  state's  smaller  sheet  metal  firms  to 
help  them  reduce  the  time  it  takes  to  create 
new  sheet  metal  designs. 

"The  system  is  dead  accurate,"  says 
John  Colognesi,  vice  president  of  South- 
bridge  Sheet  Metal,  one  of  the  first  compa- 
nies to  participate  in  the  MEAC  project. 
"We  recently  built  a  large,  complicated 
frame  made  of  tubular  members  and 


various  angles.  It  would  have  taken  a  week 
of  layout  to  develop  it  with  traditional  meth- 
ods; with  computer-aided  design  we  devel- 
oped it  in  a  matter  of  a  day."  Colognesi  says 
his  company  had  long  hoped  to  implement 
a  CAD/CAM  system,  but  lacked  the  time  and 
resources. 

More  recently,  Bay  State  Skills  Corp.,  a 
quasi-state  agency,  hired  MEAC  to  help  the 
sheet  metal  industry  export  its  products. 
"These  efforts  clearly  illustrate  the  multi- 
disciplinary  nature  of  manufacturing  engi- 
neering at  work  for  area  corporations," 
Cotnoir  says. 


I 


n  the  years  after  MEAC's  founding,  the 
laboratory — which  acquired  a  host  of  full- 
scale  robots  and  automation  equipment 
from  its  industrial  partners — became  the 
centerpiece  of  a  manufacturing  research 
and  education  program.  In  addition  to 
teaching  courses  in  robotics,  manufacturing 


technology,  materials  and  computer-aided 
design,  faculty  from  the  Mechanical  Engi- 
neering Department  and  engineers  from 
MEAC  advised  hundreds  of  undergraduate 
Major  Qualifying  Projects  and  nearly  20 
master's  theses  in  manufacturing. 

In  1986  the  Institute  consolidated  its 
expertise  in  manufacturing  education  into 
a  new  undergraduate  degree  program;  a 
master's  program  was  added  a  year  later 
and  the  university's  first  Ph.D.  candidate  in 
manufacturing  enrolled  in  1989.  In  1991  the 
programs  received  accreditation  from  the 
Accreditation  Board  for  Engineering  and 
Technology  (ABET). 

"There  are  only  10  ABET-accredited 
bachelor's  degree  programs  in  manufactur- 
ing engineering  in  the  United  States,"  notes 
Richard  D.  Sisson  Jr.,  professor  of  mechani- 
cal engineering  and  director  of  manufactur- 
ing engineering.  "WPI  is  one  of  the  few 
places  that  offers  B.S.,  M.S.,  and  Ph.D. 
degrees.  To  date,  we've  had  more  than 


WPI  Journal 


23 


60  graduates  from  the  undergraduate  pro- 
gram and  five  from  the  master's  program." 

Reflecting  the  multidisciplinary  nature 
of  modem  manufacturing  engineering,  the 
curriculum  is  taught  by  faculty  members 
from  the  Mechanical  Engineering,  Electrical 
Engineering,  Management  and  Computer 
Science  departments.  The  program  includes 
four  core  areas  of  study:  materials  and  pro- 
cesses; product  engineering;  computer 
control  and  manufacturing  systems;  and 
production  systems  engineering. 

According  to  Sisson,  the  program  em- 
phasizes a  systems  approach  to  manufac- 
turing, where  students  are  taught  to  see  the 
individual  parts  of  the  manufacturing  pro- 
cess— from  product  design  to  manufactur- 
ing and  testing — not  as  separate,  unrelated 
processes,  but  as  parts  of  a  unified  whole. 

WPI's  relatively  young  manufacturing 
engineering  program  has  already  begun  to 
garner  national  attention.  In  1990  the  Soci- 
ety of  Manufacturing  Engineers  recognized 
its  first  student  honor  society  ever — the 
society  founded  by  a  group  of  WPI  students 
led  by  Theresa  A.  Schmidt  '92.  The  students 
petitioned  the  national  organization  when 
they  realized  that  manufacturing  engineer- 
ing was  the  only  major  area  of  study  at  WPI 
that  did  not  have  its  own  honor  society. 


M 


aterials  and  processes,  the  first 
,  core  area  of  study,  explores  the 
properties  of  modern  manufacturing  materi- 
als and  looks  at  how  they  react  to  such  pro- 
cesses as  casting,  forging,  injection  molding 
and  grinding.  Understanding  the  fundamen- 
tal mechanisms  by  which  materials  are 
shaped  and  new  surfaces  are  created  is 


In  this  1985  photo,  former  MEAC  engineer  Robert  Bean,  left,  and  Alan  Cloutier  of 
Norton  Co.'s  Vitrified  Grinding  Wheel  Division  look  over  a  MEAC-designed  system 
that  unloads  and  stacks  grinding  wheels,  seen  at  center,  before  they  are  fired. 


critical  in  modern  manufacturing,  notes 
Christopher  A.  Brown,  assistant  professor 
of  mechanical  engineering,  who  heads  up 
this  area. 

"Many  students  arrive  thinking  that 
manufacturing  is  all  robots  and  computer 
controls,"  Brown  says.  "But  if  we're  only 
intelligently  controlling  the  same  old  pro- 
cesses, we  haven't  necessarily  reached  our 
potential  for  effective  manufacturing.  That's 
why  my  teaching  and  research  focus  on 
where  the  tool  meets  the  workpiece." 

Brown,  whose  research  specialty  is  con- 
ventional and  electric-discharge  machining, 


has  been  a  pioneer  in  the  study  of  machined 
surfaces.  To  better  understand  the  charac- 
teristics of  these  surfaces  he  uses  fractal 
geometry,  a  new  form  of  analysis  he  first  em- 
ployed while  doing  research  on  machined 
surfaces  at  the  Swiss  Federal  Institute  of 
Technology  in  Lausanne. 

"Fractal  geometry  allows  us  to  charac- 
terize the  essence  of  complex  shapes,  such 
that  their  character  is  represented  over  a 
wide  range  of  scales,"  he  says.  "Over  the  last 
few  years,  we've  been  able  to  use  scanning 
electron  microscopes  and  scanning  tunnel- 
ing microscopes  to  generate  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  bits  of  data  about  the  topogra- 
phy of  a  machined  surface  at  the  atomic 
scale.  Theoretically,  with  such  data  we  can 
now  approach  product  and  process  design 
issues  over  a  range  of  scales  that  extends 
right  down  to  the  atomic  level." 

Fractal  analysis  can  prove  especially 
useful  in  situations  where  a  designer  must 
create  a  part  that  has  to  perform  different, 
seemingly  contradictory  functions  at  differ- 
ent geometric  scales,  Brown  says.  "For  ex- 
ample," he  notes,  "a  substrate  for  a  coated 
cutting  tool  needs  to  be  smooth  at  larger 
scales,  but  rough  on  a  fine  scale  to  effec- 


From  left,  graduate  students  Robert 
DeLang  and  Kris  Timmermans  and 
Professor  Christopher  Brown  test 
the  effects  of  electric-discharge 
machining  on  a  ceramic  sample. 
DeLang  and  Timmermans  are 
students  at  Catholic  University 
in  Leuven,  Belgium. 


24 


Winter  1992 


tively  anchor  the  coating.  Fractal  analysis 
helps  us  see  how  to  decouple  large-  and 
fine-scale  functions  and  manufacturing 
processes  and  handle  them  separately." 

At  the  other  end  of  the  manufacturing 
spectrum  is  production  systems 
engineering — the  use  of  effective  manage- 
ment and  organizational  techniques  to  pro- 
duce a  high-quality  product  manufactured 
by  motivated  employees.  To  accomplish 
this  goal,  production  engineers  use  produc- 
tion planning  and  control,  quality  planning 
and  control,  risk  analysis,  and  simulation, 
among  other  techniques. 

"This  fourth  core  area  of  study  rounds 
out  a  manufacturing  engineering  degree 
program  that  prepares  students  to  be 
equally  skilled  in  areas  that  range  from  in- 
dustrial robotics  to  advanced  materials  and 
processes,"  says  Enio  E.  Velazco,  assistant 
professor  of  management.  "But  in  addition 
to  being  technologically  ready,  graduates 
of  this  program  will  be  prepared  to  analyze 
and  improve  operational  systems  from  a 
human  standpoint." 

Notes  Sharon  A.  Johnson,  assistant  pro- 
fessor of  management,  "The  kinds  of  ques- 
tions we  pose  to  our  students  include:  What 
and  how  much  do  I  produce  this  month  to 
limit  inventory,  but  still  satisfy  my  custom- 
ers? Can  I  economically  justify  the  cost  of 
a  new  product  design?  Can  I  improve  a 
process  by  reducing  setup  time,  while  still 
maintaining  quality?  How  does  automation 
affect  my  company's  organization  and  im- 
pact workers? 

"We're  asking  the  students  to  look  at  the 
big  picture.  Automation  and  new  technology 
must  be  reviewed  on  the  basis  of  how  they 
relate  to  all  functional  areas  within  a  com- 
pany. The  human  factor  is  very  important." 

To  learn  firsthand  how  to  put  these 
management  tools  to  work  in  real-life  situa- 
tions, students  who  specialize  in  production 
system  design  often  complete  their  Major 
Qualifying  Projects  in  the  field  solving 
problems  for  sponsoring  companies.  For 
example,  Rosana  A.  Espino  '93,  Erik  H. 
Krauss  '92  and  Andrea  K.  Toland  '92  are 
working  with  Dover  Instrument  Corp.  in 
Westboro,  Mass.,  which  customizes  preci- 
sion air-bearing  positioning  systems,  to 


Andrea  Toland  '92,  center, 

discusses  the  computerized 

scheduling  tool  she  is 

helping  develop  for  Dover 

Instrument  Corp.  with 

management  professors 

Sharon  Johnson,  left, 

and  Enio  Velazco. 


develop  a  computerized  scheduling  tool 
that  will  analyze  capacity  and  resource 
utilization  in  the  company's  manufacturing 
department. 

The  scheduling  model,  which  will  be 
used  to  plan  projects  on  a  monthly  basis, 
will  provide  feedback  to  the  sales  depart- 
ment, helping  the  sales  force  quote  ship- 
ping dates  to  customers.  Because  Dover  is 
a  small  company,  the  students  are  attempt- 
ing to  fashion  a  system  that  will  not  require 
the  firm  to  purchase  new  equipment  or  add 
personnel. 

Jodi  A.  Pisinski  '93,  Jennifer  L.  Wood  '92 
and  Tara  Lynn  Zaharoff  '92  are  working  with 
Norton  Co.  to  develop  a  recycling  program 
for  the  abrasives  the  company  uses  to  make 
grinding  wheels.  The  students  will  address 
the  technical,  environmental  and  economic 
feasibility  of  a  recycling  program,  and 
attempt  to  design  a  program  that  will  not 
adversely  affect  the  manufacturing  process. 

To  prepare  students  adequately  to  man- 
age modern  manufacturing  enterprises,  the 
WPI  faculty  strive  to  expose  them — in  the 
classroom  and  through  projects — to  the 
most  current  techniques  in  production  man- 
agement. More  often  than  not,  these  are 
techniques  that  were  pioneered  by  Japanese 
firms.  One  example  is  the  Taguchi  Method, 
a  technique  based  on  statistically  designed 
experiments  that  allow  engineers  to  analyze 
operational  systems,  identify  the  effect  of 
various  factors  on  particular  measures  of 
performance,  and  prioritize  various  meth- 
ods for  improving  the  manufacturing 
operation. 


"Our  students  are  learning  to  be  critical 
of  the  status  quo,  and  to  always  look  for 
possible  areas  of  improvement,"  says 
Velazco,  whose  teaching  focuses  on  statis- 
tical quality  control.  In  the  classroom  pro- 
jects that  Velazco  assigns,  students  are 
asked  to  analyze  data  that  have  already 
been  used  by  engineers  at  real  companies 
to  solve  manufacturing  problems. 

"In  some  cases,  the  students  have  come 
up  with  different  solutions  than  the  ones  the 
engineers  found,"  Velazco  says.  "When  time 
allows,  we  meet  with  the  engineers  to  deter- 
mine if  improvements  can  be  made  based 
on  the  students'  findings. 

"My  effort  to  present  the  latest  Japanese 
manufacturing  techniques  to  students  is  re- 
flected in  the  number  of  MQPs  and  master's 
theses  that  students  have  undertaken  focus- 
ing on  the  Taguchi  Method,"  adds  Velazco, 
who,  with  help  from  a  grant  from  General 
Electric  Co.,  is  currently  developing  a  new 
undergraduate  course  in  Total  Quality  Man- 
agement, another  leading-edge  management 
technique. 

Students  pursuing  undergraduate  and 
graduate  degrees  in  manufacturing 
engineering  at  WPI  can  complete  their 
MQPs,  theses  and  dissertations  in  industry- 
sponsored  centers  and  laboratories  in 
robotics,  flexible  automation,  process  con- 
trol, advanced  materials  processing,  and 
computer-aided  design  and  manufacturing, 
among  other  disciplines.  Students  specializ- 
ing in  the  human  side  of  manufacturing  can 


WPI  Journal  25 


This  Robot's  Way  Above  Par 


Computer-integrated  systems  and 
intelligent  process  controls  are  as 
important  to  manufacturing  opera- 
tions as  the  automatic  hardware  itself," 
notes  John  J.  Bausch  III,  assistant  profes- 
sor of  mechanical  engineering.  "For  a  great 
many  traditional  processes,  better  control 
software  is  the  only  mechanism  available 
to  improve  performance. 

"One  of  the  long-range  objectives  of 
computer-integrated  manufacturing  is  to 
close  the  gap  between  design  and  manu- 
facture," he  adds.  "By  combining  com- 
puter-aided design  methods  to  model  a 
part  with  computer-aided  manufacturing 
methods  to  produce  it,  we  can  completely 
automate  the  manufacturing  process." 

Working  with  David  C.  Zenger  and 
David  J.  Olinger,  also  assistant  professors 
of  mechanical  engineering,  Bausch  is  cur- 
rently advising  three  groups  of  under- 
graduates who  are  studying  intelligent 
process  control  by  creating  a  robot  that 
might  seem  more  useful  on  the  golf  course 
than  on  the  factory  floor.  Called  the  Inte- 
grated Putting  Robot,  the  machine  can  size 
up  the  bumps  and  contours  of  a  green  and 
figure  out  the  best  way  to  swing  a  putter 
to  drop  the  ball  in  the  hole. 

"Though  the  end  result  may  not  be 
closely  tied  to  the  typical  manufacturing 


From  left,  Sean  Doherty  '92,  John  Berube  '92,  Professors  John  Bausch  and 
David  Zenger,  Michael  Vecchione  '91 ,  Professor  David  Olinger,  and  James 
McCleery  '92  form  the  gallery  as  the  Integrated  Putting  Robot  attempts  to 
sink  a  four-footer  on  this  carpet-covered  "green." 


operation,"  Bausch  says,  "the  ability  to  pro- 
gram the  robot  system  to  analyze  the  green 
surface  and  adopt  the  trajectory  of  its 
stroke  in  real  time  is  extremely  valuable. 
This  is  actually  a  very  realistic  manufactur- 
ing problem." 


The  robot  had  its  origins  in  an  idea 
Zenger  had  for  a  fun  way  to  cap  his 
course  in  robotics.  Each  student  in  the 
class  develops  a  program  for  the  robot, 
which  holds  a  standard  putter  in  its  arm, 
and  practices  putting  on  a  flat  green. 


complete  projects  through  the  Center  for 
the  Management  of  Advanced  Automation 
Technology  (MAAT),  which,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Arthur  Gerstenfeld,  professor  of 
management,  helps  industrial  sponsors 
overcome  the  obstacles  that  often  stand  in 
the  way  of  implementing  and  benefiting 
from  advanced  automation. 

The  newest  center,  the  Center  for  Intelli- 
gent Processing  of  Materials  (CIPM),  is  one 
of  two  multidisciplinary  research  centers 
recently  created  at  WP1  as  part  of  the  Insti- 
tute's Strategic  Plan  for  the  1990s  (the  other 
is  the  Applied  Bio-Engineering  Center). 
Directed  by  Richard  Sisson,  the  center  is  the 
umbrella  organization  for  a  number  of  labo- 
ratories. 

According  to  Sisson,  the  goal  of  the  new 
center  is  to  create  intelligent  systems  for 
the  processing  of  materials  by  integrating 
three  fundamental  manufacturing  sub- 


systems: an  interactive  database  of  math- 
ematical and  heuristic  models  of  materials 
processes;  advanced  sensors  and  data- 
acquisition  systems  that  measure  key 
attributes  of  the  materials;  and  a  supervi- 
sory control  system  that  utilizes  the  models 
and  the  sensors  to  intelligently  control  the 
processes. 

"More  broadly,"  he  says,  "we  will  seek  to 
develop  the  kinds  of  integrated,  interactive 
and  intelligent  processing  systems  that 
American  industry  will  need  to  create  prod- 
ucts that  are  competitive — both  here  and 
abroad.  In  the  process,  we're  also  providing 
a  valuable  learning  experience  for  WP1 
students." 

One  of  the  first  of  the  new  laboratories 
to  fall  under  the  CIPM  umbrella  is  a  facility 
for  the  study  of  electric-discharge  machin- 
ing (EDM).  "Through  the  center  we  are  seek- 
ing to  advance  our  understanding  of  the 


spark-erosion  process,"  notes  Christopher 
Brown,  the  lab's  founder.  "The  goal  is  to  ex- 
tend the  capabilities  of  EDM  beyond  its  cur- 
rent applications — primarily  machining  hard 
metals  for  making  tools  and  dies — to  new 
areas,  like  the  production  of  ceramic  com- 
ponents." 

Other  CIPM  centers  include  the  Center 
for  Hydrogen  Embrittlement  of  Electro- 
plated Fasteners,  which  addresses  the  sci- 
entific and  industrial  problems  associated 
with  the  fasteners  (lost  time,  accidents  and 
product  liability  due  to  embrittled  fasteners 
cost  corporations  millions  of  dollars  each 
year),  and  the  Center  for  Carburization 
Heat-Treatment  Studies,  which  helps  indus- 
tries streamline  and  optimize  the  traditional 
carburization  process,  a  method  of  impreg- 
nating carbon  into  metals  using  heat. 

Recently,  six  WPI  researchers,  under  the 
auspices  of  CIPM,  submitted  a  proposal  to 


26 


Winter  1992 


From  left,  Christopher  Maxwell  '92,  Christopher  Kelley  '92  and  Jeffrey  Poggi 
'92  work  on  software  that  will  tell  the  putting  robot  how  to  translate  a  "putting 
plan"  formulated  by  a  computer  model  into  the  proper  swing  of  the  putter. 


They  then  compete  against  one  another, 
providing  manual  feedback  to  the  robot  un- 
til it  can  sink  a  putt  on  the  same  green, 
which  now  has  a  few  added  contours. 
"At  Professor  Olinger's  suggestion," 
Bausch  says,  "we  created  this  Major  Qualify- 
ing Project  to  automate  the  process  of  ad- 
justing to  the  changing  green  surface.  Now 
the  robot  will  probe  the  putting  surface, 
analyze  the  information,  and  adjust  the 
speed  and  the  arc  of  its  swing  appropriately. 
Our  hope  is  that  the  robot  will  do  better  on 


its  own  than  it  does  under  the  students' 
control  during  the  competition." 

To  complete  the  task,  one  group  of 
students  (Christopher  D.  Kelley  '92,  Christo- 
pher A.  Maxwell  '92  and  Gregory  R.  Tucker 
'92)  is  developing  a  computer  model  to 
predict  the  path  of  the  ball  and  choose  the 
initial  ball  velocity  and  direction.  Another 
team  (Jeffrey  P.  Poggi  '92,  Johan  Van 
Achterberg  '91  and  Michael  F.  Vecchione 
'91)  is  developing  an  application  program  to 
generate  the  surface  of  the  green  on  a  com- 


puter screen  and  simulate  the  motion  of 
the  robot  and  the  ball. 

The  third  group  (John  A.  Berube 
'92,  Sean  T.  Doherty  '92  and  James  A. 
McCleery  '92)  is  developing  the  software 
that  will  translate  the  output  of  the  mod- 
els into  the  proper  movement  of  the  robot 
arm.  Each  "putting  plan"  will  be  fed  to  the 
robot  and  tested;  if  the  robot  fails  to  sink 
the  ball,  the  students  will  reanalyze  their 
models  and  assumptions. 

Bausch  says  the  most  important  as- 
pect of  the  project  is  the  fact  that  it  brings 
together  different  specialities  within 
mechanical  engineering  to  develop  a  suc- 
cessful automated  process.  "The  analysis 
group  tends  to  consist  of  students  inter- 
ested in  aerospace  and  numerical  meth- 
ods," he  says.  "The  computer-integration 
group  consists  of  ME  majors  with  a  broad 
interest  in  advanced  computer  systems. 
And  the  computer-aided  manufacturing 
group  is  more  hardware-design  oriented." 

"Whether  at  WPI  or  in  the  real  world 
of  industry,  professionals  with  varying 
specialities  must  learn  to  work  together," 
says  Zenger.  "That's  the  real  goal  of  the 
Integrated  Putting  Robot  project.  While 
each  student  in  this  project  has  his  own 
expertise,  the  end  process  will  not  be 
successful  unless  there  is  a  group  effort 
and  good  communication." 


the  U.S.  Army  for  funding  for  a  major  project 
on  the  intelligent  processing  of  powder  met- 
als. Notes  David  C.  Zenger,  assistant  profes- 
sor of  mechanical  engineering,  the  project 
will  seek  to  integrate  the  various  aspects  of 
powder-metal  processing — from  the  analy- 
sis of  the  metal  to  the  design  of  the  manu- 
facturing systems — all  of  which  are  now 
studied  in  isolation. 

"Our  goal  is  to  develop  the  framework 
for  an  interactive,  integrated  and  intelligent 
system  so  that  design  and  process  flow 
together  concurrently,"  he  says.  "Since  70 
to  85  percent  of  product  cost  is  determined 
at  the  earliest  stages  of  product  design, 
there  is  an  incentive  for  early  optimization 
of  product  design  and  accurate  prediction 
of  the  manufacturing  and  processing 
requirements." 

Since  its  founding  days,  WPI  has  mea- 
sured its  success  in  many  ways,  but  the 


most  important  bottom  line  has  always  been 
the  success  of  its  graduates.  For  a  young 
program,  manufacturing  engineering  has 
already  achieved  its  share  of  success,  notes 
Sisson. 

"Our  graduates  are  doing  quite  well  in 
industry,"  he  says.  "Many  are  being  hired 
by  large  corporations  for  their  management 
and  manufacturing  engineering  training 
programs.  For  example,  General  Electric's 
Manufacturing  Management  Program  hires 
many  of  WPl's  manufacturing  engineering 
and  mechanical  engineering  graduates.  In 
addition,  many  graduates  are  working  with 
small  companies,  providing  them  with  state- 
of-the-art  engineering  expertise  that  will 
help  them  stay  competitive." 

For  these  students,  the  education  they 
received  at  WPI — in  particular  the  real-world 
projects — have  provided  a  significant  edge 
in  the  work  place,  Sisson  says.  "Our 


approach  to  manufacturing  education  lets 
students  apply  their  newfound  knowledge 
and  problem-solving  skills  to  real-life  situa- 
tions. They  have  to  solve  problems  within 
the  same  cost  and  time  constraints  they'll 
face  once  they  get  out  there  on  the  real 
shop  floor.  There  is  no  substitute  for  that 
kind  of  experience. 

"Our  students  are  not  working  in  a 
vacuum,"  he  adds.  "They  are  out  there  in 
the  field,  developing  a  human  touch.  Gradu- 
ates of  our  manufacturing  engineering  pro- 
gram will  be  tomorrow's  top  manufacturing 
executives,  leading  companies  into  the  21st 
century  using  skills  developed  at  WPI  and 
tested  in  the  field." 


Kalenian,  a  free-lance  writer  living  in  Prince- 
ton, Mass.,  once  ran  a  manufacturing  business 
with  her  husband,  Paul  A.  Kalenian  76. 


WPI  Journal 


27 


The  Entrepreneurial  Spirit 

Thirteenth  in  a  Series 


Steady  as  She  Goes 


By  Michael  W.  Dorsey 


hen  he  can,  Robert  H. 

Beckett  '57,  chairman 

and  CEO  of  Robec 
Distributors  in  Horsham,  Pa., 
likes  to  leave  behind  the  de- 
mands of  his  busy  life  and  go 
sailing  on  the  Chesapeake  Bay. 
Like  the  countless  generations 
of  watermen  who've  navigated 
this  vast  inland  waterway  be- 
fore him,  Beckett  knows  that 
negotiating  the  Chesapeake 
requires  a  steady  hand  on  the 
tiller  and  a  clear  vision  of  where 
you're  going  and  how  you're 
going  to  get  there. 

Beckett  has  taken  a  similar 
approach  to  his  own  career. 
Though  his  desire  to  create  and 
manage  his  own  company  sur- 
faced early  in  life,  he  waited 
more  than  two  decades  until 
the  time  and  circumstances 
were  right  to  make  the  leap. 
"I  started  talking  about  starting 
my  own  business  when  I  was  a 
senior  at  WPI,"  Beckett  says. 
"But  1  didn't  know  what  to  do 
or  when  to  do  it.  Later,  I  was 
concerned  about  my  kids— I 
didn't  want  to  jeopardize  their 
educations.  But  I  always  knew 
that  someday  1  would  start  my 
own  company." 

That  someday  arrived  in  1978.  With  his  employer, 
Decision  Data  Inc.,  facing  a  serious  financial  crisis,  Beckett 
was  forced  to  take  a  critical  look  at  his  career  options.  He 
decided  the  time  had  come  to  go  his  own  way.  At  that  time, 
desktop  computers,  which  were  still  in  their  infancy,  were 
already  making  inroads  into  business  and  industry,  and 
Beckett  could  see  that  virtually  unlimited  opportunities 
existed  for  entrepreneurs  who  could  find  their  own 


Robert  Beckett  '57  in  the  warehouse  of  the 
105,000-square-foot  headquarters  of  Robec 
Distributors  in  Horsham,  Pa. 


niche  in  this  rapidly  expanding 
market. 

With  G.  Wesley  McKinney, 
a  Decision  Data  sales  execu- 
tive, Beckett  founded  Robec 
Inc.  The  company's  first  ven- 
ture was  a  new  software  prod- 
uct aimed  at  surveyors  and  real 
estate  developers.  Given  criti- 
cal information  about  a  parcel 
of  land,  the  product  could  help 
carry  out  the  financial  and 
technical  analyses  involved  in 
turning  the  land  into  a  finished 
development.  The  software 
could  even  subdivide  the  land 
into  lots,  add  streets  and  utili- 
ties, and  draw  the  results  on  a 
plotter. 

"We  took  the  package  to  the 
state  surveying  show  at  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania  and 
immediately  got  a  request  to 
demonstrate  it  to  the  execu- 
tives of  a  large  surveying  in- 
strument manufacturer," 
Beckett  says.  As  a  result,  Robec 
won  a  contract  for  nearly  $2 
million  worth  of  hardware  and 
software,  including  120  Z/80 
desktop  computers  and  associ- 
ated printers  and  plotters. 

Around  that  time,  Okidata, 
a  manufacturer  of  computer 
printers,  released  a  new  printer  for  personal  computers. 
Impressed  by  Robec's  experience  with  printers  and  its 
sales  success,  Okidata  provided  the  opportunity  for  the 
company  to  act  as  a  distributor.  Robec  agreed,  and  in  the 
process  firmly  established  itself  as  an  up-and-coming 
wholesale  distributor  of  microcomputers  and  peripherals. 
It's  been  more  than  a  decade  since  that  day,  and  Beckett 
has  never  looked  back. 


28 


Winter  1992 


ore  than  anything,  it  was  football 
I  that  first  brought  Robert  Beckett 
to  WPI.  The  son  of  a  machine  shop  inspec- 
tor who  emigrated  to  the  United  States  from 
Belfast  as  a  young  man,  Beckett  was  born  in 
Trenton,  N.J.,  in  1933.  As  a  student  at 
Hamilton  High  School  in  Trenton,  Beckett 
excelled  at  mathematics  and  physics  and 
played  on  the  football  team.  After  graduat- 
ing in  1951,  he  spent  a  year  at  The  Penning- 
ton School,  a  New  Jersey  preparatory 
school. 

Beckett's  academic  credentials  earned 
him  admission  to  several  colleges,  including 
Lafayette,  Delaware  and  Rutgers,  but  finan- 
cial constraints  led  him  to  put  off  college  for 
a  year.  "I  had  actually  enrolled  at  Lafayette 
and  attended  freshman  orientation,"  he 
says,  "but  I  decided  not  to  start  until  I  could 
gather  additional  financial  support." 

Instead,  to  earn  money  for  college  he 
worked  in  the  service  department  of  a  local 
Ford  dealership  as  a  mechanic  and  a  service 
salesman.  In  the  evenings  he  held  down  a 
second  job  on  the  night  shift  at  a  gas  sta- 
tion. That  fall  Beckett's  prep  school  foot- 
ball coach  told  him  that  Charles  McNulty, 
football  coach  at  WPI,  would  be  visiting  the 
area  to  look  for  good  students  interested  in 
a  technical  education.  Beckett  agreed  to 
meet  him. 

"McNulty  and  I  talked  in  December  and 
he  invited  me  to  visit  WPI  the  following 
spring,"  Beckett  says.  "I  had  such  a  desire 
to  go  to  college  someplace,  and  I  was  so 
pleased  to  find  someone  who  seemed  will- 
ing to  help.  Not  having  the  financial  where- 
withal to  go  to  college,  and  feeling  the 
frustration  that  goes  along  with  that — that 
was  a  low  point  in  my  life.  I've  always  appre- 
ciated how  WPI  made  it  possible  for  me  to 
get  an  education." 

With  the  aid  of  a  matriculation  scholar- 
ship, Beckett  enrolled  in  the  fall  of  1953. 
"I  still  had  to  work  to  earn  money  for  ex- 
penses, but  I  enjoyed  my  years  at  WPI.  I  got 
a  lot  out  of  my  education." 

While  at  the  Institute,  Beckett  was  a 
member  of  Sigma  Phi  Epsilon  fraternity  and 
joined  the  Athletic  Council,  the  Varsity  Club, 
ROTC  and  the  American  Society  of  Mechani- 
cal Engineers.  He  was  on  the  staffs  of  Tech 
News  and  Peddler,  and  was  elected  to  the 
Tech  Senate  each  of  his  WPI  years,  serving 
as  president  his  senior  year.  He  also  won 
election  to  Skull,  the  senior  honor  society, 
and  Phi  Delta  Epsilon,  the  journalism  honor 
society. 

In  addition  to  his  activities,  he  was  active 
in  sports,  competing  on  the  swimming  and 
tennis  teams  as  a  freshman  and  sophomore. 
As  a  guard  on  the  football  team,  he  lettered 


as  a  junior  and  a 
senior  and  played  on 
the  undefeated  and 
untied  team  of  1954. 
"I  wasn't  a  star," 
Beckett  says,  "but  I 
was  a  steady  player. 
I'm  still  that  way.  I'm 
one  of  those  people 
who  likes  steadiness 
and  stability.  I  think 
that's  one  of  the 
things  that  has  made 
Robec  successful." 


E 


arly  in  his 
career,  Beckett 
learned  the  rewards 
that  stability  can 
bring.  After  complet- 
ing six  months  of  mili- 
tary service,  he  joined 
Leeds  &  Northrup  in 
North  Wales,  Pa.,  a 
maker  of  electronic 
recorders,  controllers 
and  test  instruments. 
On-campus  interviews 
had  earned  him  offers 
from  eight  other  com- 
panies, including 
Alcoa,  Curtis-Wright, 

Goodyear  and  IBM,  but  none  of  these  firms 
could  promise  Beckett  a  position  that  would 
let  him  make  full  use  of  his  engineering 
education. 

"I  didn't  want  a  position  that  could  be 
filled  by  a  nontechnical  college  graduate," 
he  says.  "I  thought  to  myself,  'If  they  don't 
put  any  value  on  a  technical  education, 
why  did  I  bother  to  get  one?'" 

A  friend  had  suggested  he  check  into 
Leeds  &  Northrup,  and  while  he  was  home 
for  Christmas  vacation  during  his  senior 
year  he  visited  the  plant.  "I  was  so  im- 
pressed with  the  kind  of  job  they  offered 
me — it  just  hit  me  right,"  he  says.  "It  was 
exactly  what  I  wanted." 

Beckett  started  out  in  field  sales  in  Mil- 
waukee. "The  Midwest  is  warm  and  friendly, 
but  difficult  to  penetrate,"  he  says.  "But  I 
outlasted  the  competition.  I  was  there  for 
five  years,  and  in  that  time  the  Honeywell 
representative  changed  twice.  All  of  a  sud- 
den, I  was  the  veteran;  mine  was  the  face 
the  customers  had  seen  more  often,  so  I 
started  to  get  more  business." 

From  Milwaukee,  Beckett  was  trans- 
ferred to  Pittsburgh,  where  he  played  a 
critical  role  in  developing  instrumentation 
and  central  control  systems  for  steel  plants 


Robec's  regional  distribution  centers  keep  busy  shipping 
microcomputer  systems  out  to  customers  around  the  country. 


and  plants  that  processed  taconite,  a  low- 
grade  iron  ore. 

"That  was  a  time  when  industry  was  just 
beginning  to  centralize  operations,"  he  says, 
"using  miniaturized  instruments  to  gather 
raw  data  from  throughout  the  processing 
operation  and  pulling  it  into  a  central  loca- 
tion. Centralization  was  an  essential  step 
before  you  could  even  consider  putting  in 
a  computer.  Once  you  had  all  the  data  in 
place,  you  could  figure  out  how  to  handle 
it  through  mathematical  models  of  the 
process." 

While  at  Leeds  &  Northrup,  Beckett 
and  a  fellow  employee,  Ken  Bullinant,  were 
approached  by  Don  Stein,  the  president  of 
a  small  Glassboro,  N.J.,  instrumentation 
company  called  K-Tron  Inc.  Stein  was  inter- 
ested in  developing  some  new  measurement 
devices  for  industrial  processes,  and 
Beckett  and  Bullinant  spent  several  week- 
ends at  K-Tron  completing  the  design  for 
one  of  Beckett's  ideas,  a  gravimetric  feeder. 
All  three  would  ultimately  share  a  patent 
for  the  design. 

"A  gravimetric  feeder  measures  the 
weight  of  dry  granular  material  as  it  passes 
along  a  conveyor  belt,  controlling  the  vol- 
ume of  the  stream  as  a  function  of  its 


WPI  Journal 


29 


weight,"  Beckett  says.  "When  you're  blend- 
ing multiple  streams — for  example,  mixing 
other  ingredients  in  with  dry  cereals  or  con- 
trolling the  ratio  of  raw  ingredients  feeding 
into  a  plastic  extruder — a  gravimetric  feeder 
enables  you  to  get  the  same  formulation  all 
the  time." 

Eventually  Beckett  and  Bullinant  left 
Leeds  &  Northrup  to  join  K-Tron,  where 
they  converted  their  original  pneumatic 
feeder  to  an  electronic  device.  It  was  the 
first  digital  feeder  on  the  market  and 
remains  the  standard  in  the  field  today, 
Beckett  says. 

After  five  years  at  K-Tron,  Beckett  left  to 
join  Decision  Data  Inc.  in  Horsham,  Pa.,  a 
manufacturer  of  equipment  for  IBM  System 
3  business  computers.  As  manager  of  OEM 
(original  equipment  manufacturer)  market- 
ing, Becket  sold  Decision  Data's  products — 
including  card  readers,  punches,  reader- 
punches,  and  printers — to  other  computer 
manufacturers.  He  also  spearheaded  the 
launch  of  a  new  120-character-per-second 
dot-matrix  printer. 

In  1976  IBM  announced  its  intention  to 
entirely  redesign  its  System-3  computers, 
making  many  of  Decision  Data's  products 
obsolete  and  placing  the  company's  future 
in  doubt.  For  Beckett,  it  was  a  critical  turn- 
ing point — one  for  which  he'd  been  waiting 
for  22  years.  By  1978  he  would  be  president 
and  CEO  of  his  own  company. 

The  qualities  Robert  Beckett  uses  to 
describe  himself — steadiness  and 
stability — could  apply  as  well  to  the  com- 
pany he  founded  14  years  ago  in  Montgom- 
eryville,  Pa.,  a  suburb  of  Philadelphia.  As  a 
value-added  distributor  of  microcomputers, 
peripherals,  software  and  supplies,  Robec 
Distributors  sells  its  products  to  about 
22,000  customers,  who  include  value-added 
resellers  (VARs),  retailers  and  other  com- 
puter businesses  that,  in  turn,  sell  those 
systems  to  end-users. 

Since  its  birth,  Robec  has  grown  at  a 
quick  but  steady  pace.  Starting  in  1978  with 
a  work  force  of  just  the  two  founding  part- 
ners, Robec  grew  to  employ  20  people  and 
earn  annual  sales  of  nearly  $4  million  by 
1982.  Four  years  later  its  sales  had  jumped 
to  more  than  $68  million — an  increase  of 
over  1,500  percent — and  its  work  force  had 
risen  to  128. 

The  company  passed  the  $100  million 
mark  in  sales  during  its  10th  year  of  opera- 
tions in  1988,  and  today  Robec  posts  annual 
sales  of  more  than  $200  million  with  a  work 
force  of  410  nationwide,  including  180  in 
Horsham,  Pa.,  where  the  corporate  head- 
quarters were  moved  in  1987.  This  rapid 
expansion  earned  Robec  the  No.  10  spot 


MicroStack  and  the  WPl 


Since  they  were  introduced  less  than 
a  decade  ago,  personal  computer 
networks  have  helped  businesses 
boost  their  productivity  by  linking  indi- 
vidual personal  computers  together, 
enabling  users  to  more  easily  share  infor- 
mation and  data.  But  even  with  the  most 
powerful  commercially  available  networks, 
companies  can  run  into  problems  when 
they  try  to  expand  their  networks  to  ac- 
commodate new  users  or  new  technology. 

A  unique  approach  to  networking  devel- 
oped by  Robec  Distributors,  with  help  from 
researchers  at  WPI,  promises  a  simple  yet 
easily  expandable  personal  computer  net- 
work. Called  MicroStack,  the  system  com- 
bines the  power  and  resources  of  two  or 
more  off-the-shelf  personal  computers  to 
create  a  multiprocessing  computer.  The 
system  enables  users  to  share  memory, 
disk  drives,  printers  and  other  peripherals 
connected  to  the  stack,  in  much  the  same 
way  that  users  of  much  more  expensive 
mainframe  or  minicomputer  systems  can. 

"Our  concept  was  that  all  the  process- 
ing power  of  a  networked  system  should 
be  transparent  to  the  user,"  says  Robec 
Chairman  and  CEO  Robert  H.  Beckett  '57. 
"All  he  wants  to  see  is  that  he  has  the  re- 
sources he  needs  to  get  the  job  done. 
Where  those  resources  are  located 
shouldn't  concern  him." 


James  Duckworth,  seated,  holds  the  Bus 
Interface  Card  he  developed  for  Micro- 
Stack,  Robec's  revolutionary  networking 
solution.  David  Cyganski  stands  beside 
a  MicroStack  setup  running  a  test  on 
TCPserver,  the  addition  he  wrote  for  the 
MicroStack  operating  system. 


While  MicroStack  makes  use  of  hardware 
and  software  sold  by  other  vendors,  two  key 
elements  are  available  only  from  Robec.  The 


on  Inc.  magazine's  list  of  the  500  fastest- 
growing  privately  held  U.S.  companies 
in  1984.  The  company  appeared  on  the  list 
again  in  1985, 1986  and  1987.  Robec's  suc- 
cess also  earned  Beckett  the  title  of  Dela- 
ware Valley  Entrepreneur  of  the  Year  in  1988 
from  the  Arthur  Young  Co.  and  Venture 
magazine. 

WPl  has  also  honored  Beckett,  who  has 
served  the  college  since  1986  as  a  trustee, 
and  who,  as  chairman  of  the  board's  Devel- 
opment Committee,  helped  manage  the 
highly  successful  Campaign  for  Excellence. 
(Beckett's  own  gifts  to  the  Institute  helped 
build  the  new  George  F.  Fuller  Laboratories.) 
In  1987  WPI  presented  Beckett  with  its  Rob- 
ert H.  Goddard  '08  Alumni  Award  for  Profes- 
sional Achievement. 

Robec's  growth  has  been  partly  fueled 
by  acquisitions.  In  1985  the  company  pur- 
chased North  Carolina-based  InterAct  Dis- 


tributing, which  added  a  network  of  offices 
and  warehouses  in  the  South  to  Robec's 
own  regional  sales  offices  in  Boston,  Mass., 
Reston,  Va.,  and  Youngstown,  Ohio.  Other 
acquisitions,  including  the  purchases  of  re- 
gional computer  distributors  in  Texas  and 
California,  have  enabled  Robec  to  become 
a  truly  national  company  comprising  20 
branch  offices  from  Seattle  to  Orlando,  in- 
cluding regional  operating  and  supply  cen- 
ters in  Horsham,  Kansas  City  and  Phoenix. 

"Territorially,  that's  all  I  want  to  do  right 
now,"  Beckett  says,  "at  least  until  I  get  all  of 
our  offices  as  strong  as  our  East  Coast  of- 
fices. We  might  look  at  other  locations  in  the 
future — potentially  in  Canada  and  Mexico,  if 
trade  barriers  come  down." 

Robec's  steady  growth  is  particularly 
striking  when  projected  against  the  back- 
drop of  the  ups  and  downs  of  the  computer 
industry  over  the  past  decade  and  a  half.  As 


30 


Winter  1992 


Connection 


first  is  the  operating  sys- 
tem, called  Shared  Resource 
Architecture,  which  enables 
several  PCs  to  work  as  one 
computer.  The  other  is  the 
Bus  Interface  Card  (BIC), 
the  hardware  that  links  the 
computers  together  and 
permits  the  rapid  and  or- 
derly exchange  of  data  be- 
tween them. 

The  BIC,  a  card  that 
plugs  into  each  of  the  PCs 
in  the  stack,  was  developed 
by  R.  James  Duckworth, 
associate  professor  of  elec- 
trical engineering,  working 
under  contract  to  Robec. 
"There  were  some  special 
requirements  for  this  card," 
Duckworth  says.  "It  had  to 
interface  with  the  rest  of  their  software,  it 
had  to  support  very  high-speed  but  reliable 
communications  between  a  number  of  PCs, 
and  it  had  to  be  low  cost." 

Working  with  graduate  student  Kenneth 
Viall,  Duckworth  produced  a  board  capable 
of  transferring  data  at  the  rate  of  2  million 
bytes  per  second.  Key  elements  of  the  de- 
sign included  an  advanced  microprocessor, 
a  SCSI  controller  (normally  used  to  transfer 
data  between  a  computer  and  a  disk  drive), 


and  a  special  memory  design  that  maxi- 
mizes the  card's  throughput. 

"We  wanted  the  host  PC  to  be  able  to 
write  new  information  to  the  BIC  at  the 
same  time  that  the  BIC  is  sending  previously 
received  information  out  into  the  stack," 
Duckworth  says. 

Duckworth  not  only  designed  the  BIC 
and  produced  a  prototype  for  Robec's 
approval,  but  supervised  the  manufacture  of 
the  cards  by  a  local  company.  More  recently, 
he  and  another  graduate  student,  Samer 
Nubani,  produced  a  new  version  of  the  card 
with  a  faster  microprocessor  and  controller 
that  increased  its  communications  speed  to 
5  million  bytes  per  second.  By  integrating 
several  functional  elements  of  the  old  card 
into  a  small  number  of  programmable  logic 
devices,  they  also  made  the  card  easier  and 
less  expensive  to  manufacture. 

Nubani  says  his  work  on  the  BIC  was 
equivalent  to  a  "year's  industrial  experi- 
ence," and  credits  the  project  with  helping 
him  land  a  job  as  an  engineer  with  Teleglobe 
Inc.,  an  electronics  company  in  Canada. 

In  addition  to  supporting  the  develop- 
ment of  the  BIC,  Robec  provided  computers 
and  test  equipment  for  WPI's  Computer 
Architecture  Laboratory,  where  much  of  the 
development  work  for  the  BIC  took  place. 
More  recently,  David  Cyganski,  professor  of 
electrical  engineering,  and  graduate  student 


Michael  J.  Haley  have  used  the  re- 
sources of  this  lab  to  add  a  new  feature 
to  the  Shared  Resource  Architecture. 

Called  TCPserver,  the  new  feature 
will  allow  MicroStack  to  communicate 
with  workstations,  mainframe  comput- 
ers and  networks  that  use  the  Unix  oper- 
ating system  as  easily  as  it  now  does 
with  PCs  operating  under  the  DOS  oper- 
ating system.  Unix  machines  generally 
communicate  with  the  TCP/IP  protocol, 
which  is  incompatible  with  protocols 
generally  used  in  computer  networks 
that  link  DOS-based  computers. 

"This  new  addition  will  let  Micro- 
Stack  enter  the  all-important  world  of 
Unix  computing,  making  its  capabilities 
available  to  a  much  broader  range  of 
computer  users,"  Cyganski  notes. 

Using  the  enhanced  Shared  Resource 
Architecture  and  the  BIC,  MicroStack 
can  link  up  to  63  individual  PCs  and  doz- 
ens of  peripheraJ  devices,  and  can  inter- 
face with  terminals  and  PCs  hooked  into 
virtually  any  type  of  computer  network. 

"We  think  it's  a  really  exciting  devel- 
opment," Beckett  says.  "One  person 
who  read  about  MicroStack  said,  'You 
don't  have  an  evolutionary  product 
here — you've  got  a  revolutionary  prod- 
uct. It  changes  the  whole  way  of  thinking 
about  networks.' " 


Robec  completely  assembles  and  tests  every 
computer  system  it  ships  from  its  warehouses. 


Robec's  own  newsletter  noted 
in  1986,  the  market  for  micro- 
computers experienced  a  "blip" 
in  1982  when  the  IBM  Personal 
Computer  was  introduced, 
"convincing  millions  of  end- 
users  that  it  was  safe  to  go 
micro."  But  after  the  blip 
came  the  "dip,"  when  the  flurry 
of  demand  for  computer  prod- 
ucts that  followed  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  IBM  PC  began  to 
taper  off. 

Later,  as  the  business  and 
home  computer  markets  be- 
came more  saturated,  the 
computer  market  softened 
and  many  computer  makers 
went  out  of  business  or  suffered 
hard  times.  More  recently,  the 
recession  has  further  cut  into 


the  demand  for  computers  and  related 
products. 

What  has  enabled  Robec  to  sail  steadily 
on  through  these  sometimes  stormy  seas? 
Beckett  attributes  much  of  the  company's 
success  to  its  unique  approach  to  computer 
distribution.  Most  computer  distributors,  he 
says,  have  concentrated  on  selling  high  vol- 
umes of  individual  components,  such  as 
personal  computers,  printers  and  disk 
drives.  Robec  has,  from  the  beginning, 
placed  its  emphasis  on  selling  whole  sys- 
tems, including  everything — computers, 
peripherals,  software,  and  networking 
equipment — that  end-users  need  to  use 
computers  effectively  in  their  businesses. 

"In  the  beginning,  the  big  distribution 
companies  were  all  commodities  oriented," 
Beckett  says.  "The  market  was  growing  so 
fast,  all  you  had  to  do  was  pick  up  the 
phone  and  you  could  sell  something  to 


WPI  Journal 


31 


somebody,  as  long  as  you  kept  your  prices 
low.  Robec  is  dispersed  over  multiple  offices 
and  our  costs  are  too  high  to  compete  on 
that  level,  so  we've  always  worked  hard  to 
keep  the  commodity  sales — what  I  call  the 
pull  sales — from  dominating  the  higher- 
margin  system  sales — the  push  sales.  We've 
kept  a  balance  between  push  and  pull — 
between  the  value-added  and  commodity 
sales.  That's  really  our  strategy." 

Because  Robec 's  emphasis  is  on  sys- 
tems, rather  than  components,  the  company 
can  also  provide  its  customers  with  a  high 
level  of  support  services.  For  example,  it 
completely  assembles  and  tests  every  sys- 
tem it  sells  before  it  is  shipped — often  with 
all  the  software  installed— to  assure  that  no 
problems  will  develop  once  the  equipment 
leaves  the  warehouse. 

"I  don't  know  of  many  other  distributors 
who  are  doing  that,"  Beckett  says.  "We  actu- 
ally format  the  drives,  load  the  operating 
system,  and  log  on  all  the  peripherals.  When 
we  ship  it  to  the  customer,  all  he  has  to  do 
is  set  it  up  and  turn  it  on."  Robec  is  also 
one  of  the  few  distributors  that  maintains 
an  in-house  maintenance  department. 

Unlike  most  computer  distributors, 
Robec  also  invests  heavily  in  education.  It 
offers  seminars  and  workshops  on  micro- 
computers and  software,  frequently  mounts 
multicity  tours  to  introduce  its  customers  to 
new  technology,  and  prepares  its  own  corre- 
spondence courses.  "When  you  distribute 
technology,"  Beckett  says,  "You  have  to 
spend  a  lot  of  time  educating  people  and  in- 
troducing them  to  the  things  you  think  will 


help  their  businesses.  That  kind  of  leader- 
ship is  what's  helped  us  be  successful." 

As  the  computer  market  has  matured 
and  competition  among  distributors  has  in- 
creased, Robec  has  shifted  more  and  more 
of  its  business  into  these  value-added  ser- 
vices, which  earn  much  higher  profit  mar- 
gins than  volume  sales  of  computers  or 
commodities.  The  value-added  segment  of 
his  operations  grew  from  12  percent  of  over- 
all sales  in  1987  to  36  percent  in  1990.  "We're 
not  the  largest  distributor  in  this  business," 
Beckett  says,  "but  our  model  says  we  don't 
have  to  be  because  we're  the  most  profitable 
distributor.  And  that's  what  will  sustain  our 
business. 

"As  long  as  we  maintain  a  feeling  for  the 
marketplace  and  the  customers  are  willing 
to  pay  for  the  services  we  offer,  we'll  suc- 
ceed," Beckett  says.  "A  lot  of  people  say  they 
are  value-added  distributors,  but  the  only 
ones  who  really  are,  are  the  ones  whose 
customers  are  willing  to  pay  for  that  value." 

There  is  no  better  way  to  sell  people  on 
an  idea  than  to  put  that  idea  to  work 
yourself,"  Beckett  says.  At  Robec,  that's 
more  than  a  philosophy — it's  a  way  of  life. 
In  a  business  where  suppliers  and  dealers 
must  convince  customers  that,  given  the 
right  technology  and  resources,  they  can 
make  their  business  more  effective  and 
efficient,  Robec  leads  by  example. 

The  company  recently  purchased  and 
installed  its  own  voice-mail  system.  It  is  now 
in  the  process  of  automating  its  warehouse 


Robec's  emphasis  on  selling  complete  computer  systems  enables  it  to  offer  cus- 
tomers a  broad  range  of  services,  such  as  this  maintenance  and  repair  facility. 


without  outside  help.  Even  the  company's 
modern,  105,000-square-foot  corporate 
headquarters  and  warehouse  in  Horsham 
is  a  monument  to  this  do-it-yourself  spirit: 
Robec  employees  planned  the  renovations 
of  the  original  45,000-square-foot-structure 
and  supervised  all  of  the  work.  The  com- 
pany also  acted  as  general  contractor  for 
the  construction  of  a  10,000-square-foot 
office  annex  and  a  50,000-square-foot 
warehouse  expansion. 

Touring  the  building,  a  visitor  quickly 
sees  that  Robec  also  practices  what  it 
preaches  when  it  comes  to  the  technology 
it  sells.  Virtually  every  administrative  task 
carried  out  in  corporate  headquarters 
makes  use  of  the  microcomputers  and 
software  Robec  distributes,  and  all  of  the 
company's  computers — as  well  as  all  of  its 
regional  offices — are  linked  together  with 
the  company's  networking  systems. 

Using  the  products  it  sells  is  the  best 
way  to  thoroughly  understand  how  they 
work,  Beckett  says,  and  to  anticipate  the 
problems  end-users  may  encounter  in  em- 
ploying them  in  their  own  applications.  To 
this  end,  Robec  puts  its  own  business  sys- 
tems to  the  test.  Consider  the  tricks  it  asks 
its  networks  to  perform  every  day: 

Each  evening,  after  normal  business 
hours,  computers  in  Horsham  call  each 
branch  office  and  collect  data  on  the  day's 
transactions.  Data  from  Robec's  entire  na- 
tional distribution  operation  is  consolidated 
and  analyzed.  The  updated  results  are  then 
fed  back  to  the  regional  offices.  On  top  of 
this,  local  networks  at  headquarters  and  at 
each  branch  office  constantly  keep  track  of 
new  orders,  automatically  updating  records 
in  multiple  offices,  and  printing  out  invoices 
and  shipping  documents. 

The  company  is  currently  implementing 
document  imaging,  a  technology  that  re- 
places traditional  paper  files  with  electronic 
images  that  can  be  easily  retrieved  and 
viewed  on  a  computer  screen.  "For  example, 
with  the  imaging  system,  all  shipping  docu- 
ments arriving  in  our  receiving  department 
will  be  scanned  into  the  computer,"  Beckett 
says.  "They  will  be  electronically  attached 
to  the  purchase  order,  which  will  already 
be  in  the  system.  The  payables  department 
can  then  pull  these  documents  up  on  the 
screen,  check  them  over,  verify  the  signa- 
tures, and  pay  the  vendors.  We  may  even 
scan  in  the  checks  and  attach  them  to  the 
other  documents. 

"Eventually,  we  plan  to  do  away  entirely 
with  historical  files.  After  we  thoroughly  un- 
derstand the  system,  we  can  educate  our 
VARs  about  how  to  use  it  and  sell  it.  I  be- 
lieve there  will  be  a  huge  market  for  imaging 
systems  in  the  next  five  years,  as  the  prices 
for  the  technology  continue  to  come  down." 


32 


Winter  1992 


^> 


Robec  Distributors  has  become  a  family  affair  for  Beckett.  His  wife,  Pat,  above,  has  long  served  as  his  administrative 
assistant.  His  daughter  and  two  sons  also  work  with  him  at  corporate  headquarters. 


Imaging  is  an  example  of  how  Robec  is 
expanding  into  new  high-end  technology, 
instead  of  into  new  territory,  Beckett  notes. 
"In  addition  to  imaging,  we're  getting  into 
multimedia  applications,  heavier  networks 
and  network  management,  and  worksta- 
tions," he  says.  "Because  of  our  commit- 
ment to  service  and  support,  I  think  we're  in 
a  better  position  to  market  these  products 
than  many  other  distributors." 

In  addition  to  products  made  by  other 
companies  (Robec  is  an  authorized  distribu- 
tor for  about  50  computer  and  component 
manufacturers,  including  Motorola,  Okidata, 
Sony,  Unisys,  Texas  Instruments  and  Wyse), 
the  company  has  also  from  the  beginning 
developed  its  own  business  software. 

Its  first  package,  the  Robec  Simplified 
Business  System,  originally  ran  on  one  of 
the  first  Z/80  desktop  computers.  The  soft- 
ware provides  the  kind  of  real-time  business 
support  (sales-order  entry,  inventory  con- 
trol, accounts  receivable  and  payable,  pur- 
chasing, and  so  on)  that  is  usually  attainable 


only  on  larger  computers,  and  makes  it 
available  on  a  network  of  personal  comput- 
ers. Robec  has  also  developed  its  own  com- 
munications software,  Solo-Corn,  and  a 
unique,  low-cost  approach  to  networking 
called  MicroStack  (see  related  story). 

Most  of  these  packages  are  the  products 
of  Robec's  own  research  and  development 
department,  which  is  headed  by  Alexander 
C.  Kramer  Jr.,  vice  president  for  advanced 
systems  technology.  Kramer,  who  earlier  in 
his  career  developed  one  of  the  first  operat- 
ing systems  for  real-time  process  controls, 
is  one  of  four  Robec  employees  who  worked 
with  Beckett  at  Leeds  &  Northrup.  In  addi- 
tion to  McKinney  and  Kramer,  they  are 
John  P.  Puckett,  senior  vice  president  and 
general  manager,  and  Charles  Shaffer,  direc- 
tor of  operations  for  Base  Two,  a  Robec 
subsidiary. 

Beckett  says  the  Leeds  &  Northrup 
connection  is  significant,  because  that 
company's  emphasis  on  system  sales  and 
applications  helped  shape  Robec's  own 


philosophy.  But  even  more,  it  is  a  reflection 
of  the  value  Beckett  places  on  loyalty.  He 
points  with  pride  to  the  unusually  low  turn- 
over among  Robec's  employees.  "We  have 
some  young  people  in  sales  who  have  been 
with  us  for  seven  years,"  he  says.  "Seven 
years  in  the  micro  industry  is  an  enormous 
amount  of  time — and  they're  not  the  older 
salesmen,  they're  the  younger  ones." 

Beckett  says  he  is  also  proud  that  his 
family  has  chosen  to  join  him  in  the  busi- 
ness. His  wife,  Pat,  is  his  administrative 
assistant.  His  oldest  son,  Robert  Jr.,  is  sec- 
retary and  vice  president  for  marketing 
operations.  His  daughter,  Susan  K.  Childers, 
is  manager  of  advertising  and  publications. 
Son  Thomas  recently  joined  the  firm  after 
receiving  his  degree  in  marketing  from  Penn- 
sylvania State  University. 

"That's  the  way  this  company  is," 
Beckett  says.  "We  don't  constantly  try  to 
change  direction,  like  some  of  our  competi- 
tors. We  stay  with  our  people  and  our  strat- 
egy, because  that's  what  works  the  best." 


WPI  Journal 


33 


COMMUNIQUE 


Climbing  Between  the  Peaks 


A  successful  fund-raising  cam- 
paign should  achieve  three 
significant  outcomes:  raising 
dollars  and  pledges  for  its  objectives; 
accelerating  the  process  of  giving;  and 
moving  the  institution  to  a  higher  "re- 
sults plateau"  from  which  to  conduct 
future  fund  raising. 

This  article  will  address  the  third 
objective — fund  raising  between  cam- 
paigns, or  "climbing  between  the  peaks." 
Note  that  I  didn't  say  descending.  Experi- 
enced mountaineers  know  that  while 
going  downhill  awhile  before  making 
another  ascent  is  refreshing,  it  makes 
reaching  the  next  summit  seem  all  the 
harder.  Right  now  WPI  is  in  such  an 
interregnum — having  reached  a  hard-won 
peak  of  $63.7  million,  we  are  looking  ahead 
to  the  next  summit. 

So  what  are  our  plans  for  the  next  few 
years?  For  what  do  we  need  significant 
funding?  I'll  start  with  some  simple  prem- 
ises. First,  WPI  is  a  distinctive,  high- 
quality  institution  that  serves  students  at 
the  higher  end  of  the  talent  range.  Second, 
to  continue  to  offer  its  considerable  diver- 
sity of  programs,  the  Institute  has  been 
reaching  out  to  serve  students  who  reside 
well  outside  the  founders'  "drawing  bound 
aries"  of  Central  New  England. 

Most  of  our  current  benefactors  and 
future  prospects  will  likely  embrace  these 
premises,  for  they  want  WPI  to  remain 
among  the  best.  But  the  economic  setting 
for  and  societal  attitudes  about  higher 
education  have  changed  dramatically, 


Figure  1.  MARKET  VALUE 

OF  THE  WPI  ENDOWMENT 

120 


£ioo 

_l 

§80 
u. 
O 
CO   60 

z 
o 

-i   40 


Current 
Value 


20 


7879  80  81  82  83  84  85  86  87  88  89  90  91 

•1978  Base  YEAR 


particularly  in  the  past  two  to  three  years. 
These  changes  have  created  the  need  to 
build  a  new  framework  for  our  climb — one 
that  is  likely  to  be  pervasive  and  enduring. 

In  some  respects,  our  task  is  easy  to 
articulate.  First,  there  must  be  constant 
renewal  and  enrichment  of  WPI's  faculty. 
Second,  the  settings  in  which  faculty  con- 
duct their  activities  must  be  functional 
and  up-to-date  (especially  for  programs 
in  science  and  technology).  And  third,  the 
faculty  and  the  settings  must  appeal  to  an 
increasingly  discerning  but  limited  mar- 
ket— prospective  students. 

Faculty  and  students,  of  course,  can 
and  do  speak  for  themselves.  Settings — 
buildings  and  facilities — cannot.  Together, 
though,  these  three  interrelated  consum- 
ers of  funding  must  be  kept  in  dynamic 
equilibrium.  Satisfying  one  more  optimally 
than  the  others  will  lead  to  an  imbalance 
and,  in  the  long  run,  to  a  less  attractive 
institution. 


Figure  2.  TOTAL  ENDOWMENTS  FOR 

U.S.  COLLEGES  AND  UNIVERSITIES 


77  78  79  80  81  82  83  84  85  86  87 

YEAR 
Source:  National  Center  for  Education  Statistics 


It  is  becoming  impossible  to  satisfy 
fully  this  triad  of  faculty,  plant  and  stu- 
dents, largely  because  there  are  too  few 
donors  right  now  with  the  necessary 
wherewithal  and  disposition.  As  provid- 
ers of  life  support  to  our  climbers,  we 
therefore  must  work  on  the  most  compel- 
ling and  the  most  enduring  objectives  for 
the  longer  run  by  building  WPI's  endow- 
ment. At  the  same  time,  we  must  pursue 
current  funding  to  fill  in  the  outer  edge 
of  the  annual  institutional  budget — what 
has  often  been  referred  to  as  the  "2  per- 
cent margin  for  excellence." 

If  you  will,  endowment  builds  for  the 
future,  while  funds  for  the  operating  bud- 
get support  the  present.  Success  in  both 
support  streams  is  essential  if  WPI  is  to 
be  the  place  that  all  of  us  want  it  to  be — 
now  and  in  the  years  ahead.  (Figure  1 
shows  the  market  value  of  the  WPI  en- 
dowment over  the  past  14  years;  Figure  2 
shows  the  growth  of  the  total  endowment 


Table  1.  ENDOWMENT  STRENGTH 

Some  Representative  High-Quality  Liberal  Arts  Colleges 


Millions 
of  Dollars 


Total  Student 
Enrollment 


Endowment 
Per  Student 


Amherst $269 1,584 $169,800 

Grinnell 287 1,373 209,000 

Middlebury 228 1 ,950 1 16,900 

Oberlin 245 2,971  82,465 

Pomona 296 1,392 212,600 

Smith 342 3,673 93,100 

Swarthmore 336 1,300 258,460 

Wellesley 374 2,214 168,900 

Wesleyan(CT) 271 2,863 94,650 

Williams 333 2,177 152,960 


Some  Representative  Institutions  Similar  to  WPI 
(Principally  Science  and  Technology) 


Millions 
of  Dollars 


Total  Student 
Enrollment 


Caltech $467 1,821 


Endowment 
Per  Student 

....$256,450 


7,090 42,172 

563 119,893 

4,562 56,993 

9,536 147,232 

6,556 35,082 

4,220 253,080 

Stevens 52 3,120 16,540 

WPI 98 3,970 24,736 

Source:  Voluntary  Support  ol  Education  1990,  Council  lor  Aid  to  Education  (CFAE) 


Carnegie  Mellon 299  . 

Harvey  Mudd 68 

Lehigh 260  . 

MIT 1,404 

RPI 230  , 

Rice 1,068  . 


34 


Winter  1992 


Table  2.    SOME  REPRESENTATIVE  CHANGES 

IN  ASSETS,  REVENUE  AND  EXPENDITURES  AT  WPI 


FY1985'  FY1991* 

(in  millions  (in  millions 

of  dollars)  of  dollars) 

Endowment 38.2 51.3  .... 

Tuition/Fees  Revenue 12.4 18.3.... 

Total  Revenues 27.3 32.7.... 

Instruction  &  Library 7.8 10.1  .... 

Financial  Aid 3.9 6.3  .... 

Operations  and 
Plant  Maintenance 2.2 2.2  .... 


Change 
(in  percent) 

34.3 

47.6 

19.7 

29.5 

61.5 

0 


'Constant  dollars.  Basis:  1978 


(Source:  1990-91  WPI  Annual  Report) 


Figure  3.  ALUMNI  SCHOLARS 
MINICAMPAIGN  (1989) 


The  Objective:  Endow  a  new  undergraduate 
scholarship  fund  representing  the  pooled  gifts 
of  alumni  and  friends. 

The  Challenge:  Howard  G.  Freeman  '40  and 
Robert  H.  Beckett  '57  each  pledged  $100,000 
to  launch  the  fund. 

The  Audience:  8,000  alumni  (an  equal  number  of 
prior  student-grant  recipients  and  randomly 
selected  non-grant  recipients).  Individuals  with 
outstanding  pledges  to  the  Campaign  for  Excel- 
lence were  excluded. 
Donors:  1,172. 

Total  Pledged:  $229,959  (exclusive  of  match- 
ing gift  monies).  (This  campajgn  is  ongoing.) 


for  U.S.  colleges  and  universities  over  a 
similar  period;  Table  1  compares  WPI's 
endowment  strength  to  that  of  several 
other  institutions.) 

The  WPI  Alumni  Fund  has  provided, 
and  continues  to  provide,  much  of  those 
needed  current  dollars.  Including  donors' 
corporate  matching  funds,  but  less  the 
major  Reunion  class  gifts  (usually  directed 
to  specific  capital  purposes),  Alumni  Fund 
contributions  account  for  about  10  percent 
of  our  fund-raising  results.  However,  the 
remainder  of  this  article  concerns  the 
need  to  balance  off  fund  raising  for  one-of- 
a-kind  projects,  such  as  the  renovation  of 
a  campus  building,  and  the  enhancement 
of  our  institutional  resources  with  endow- 
ment building. 

Most  one-of-a-kind  projects  are  either 
thoughtfully  planned  (and  often  post- 


poned!) or  opportu- 
nistic. The  former  are 
often  easier  to  man- 
age from  a  develop- 
ment perspective,  but 
the  latter  are  often 
more  seductive.  We 
know,  for  example, 
that  roofs  have  a 
certain  lifetime;  they 
must  be  continually 
repaired  and  occa- 
sionally replaced. 
Buildings  must  be  painted — inside  and 
out — to  preserve  their  structural  and 
aesthetic  value.  And  from  time  to  time, 
they  may  undergo  interior  space  recon- 
figurations to  make  better  use  of  existing 
space.  These  are  planned  events. 

Opportunistic  projects  come  about 
when  a  new  faculty  member  or  a  group 
of  faculty  get  together  to  create  a  new 
course,  curriculum  or  research  project. 
Specialized  equipment,  dedicated  space — 
usually  with  some  particularly  novel  con- 
figuration— and  new  or  enhanced  support 
services  are  elements  of  opportunistic 
fund  raising.  That  is,  they  arise  somewhat 
unexpectedly— and  opportunities  come 
and  go  quickly — so  speed  is  often  of  the 
essence. 

As  an  example  of  a  planned  project,  we 
are  currently  completing  a  full  interior  re- 
furbishment of  Alden  Memorial,  its  first  in 
about  a  half-century  of  service.  The  pro- 
ject, which  includes  adapting  existing 
space  for  better  usage,  will  cost  $2.7  mil- 
lion (roughly  four  times  the  original  cost 
of  the  building).  Currently,  we  are  putting 
together  the  funds  needed  to  create  up- 
graded facilities  for  mechanical  engineer- 
ing in  Higgins  Laboratories  and  Stoddard 
Labs.  Higgins  is  of  the  same  vintage  as 
Alden  Memorial,  and  it,  too,  will  be  getting 
its  first  major  overhaul.  The  price  tag  for 
installing  an  elevator,  replacing  rotted  nails 
that  hold  up  the  roof  slates,  significantly 
enhancing  power  and  other  services,  and 
reconfiguring  space  for  more  modern 
usage  will  amount  to  at  least  $5  million. 

Worth  pointing  out  is  that  these  major 
interior  renovations  continue  a  long- 
standing tradition  at  WPI — ensuring  that 
our  historic  (and  hence  aging)  buildings 
are  maintained  to  serve  contemporary 
needs.  So  far  we  have  renovated  Boyn- 
ton,  Washburn  and  Stoddard,  Salisbury, 
Atwater  Kent,  the  Foundry  (now  the 
Project  Center),  and  AJden  Memorial. 
When  the  Higgins  restoration  is  com- 
pleted, our  only  truly  "old"  academic 


building  left  to  do  will  be  Stratton. 

But  let  me  get  to  the  essence  of  the 
climb  before  us.  One-of-a-kind  and  oppor- 
tunistic projects  have  some  unique  charac- 
teristics. For  example,  they  can  be  post- 
poned, neglected  or  deflected,  but  doing 
so  too  often  will  lead  eventually  to 
a  physically  impoverished  institution,  one 
that  is  no  longer  attractive  to  the  very 
people  who  make  it  what  it  is  today.  To 
avoid  that  fate,  we  must  build  our  endow- 
ment— aggressively — along  three  broad 
fronts: 

Endowing  Financial  Aid 

Given  what  WPI  is  facing,  its  endowment  is 
inadequate — though  not  woefully — for  the 
long  term.  For  example,  our  current  expen- 
ditures for  undergraduate  financial  aid 
roughly  equal  the  income  available  from 
our  $110  million  endowment.  (The  Board 
of  Trustees'  "spending  rule"  permits  the 
Institute  to  put  5.5  percent  of  the  average 
market  value  of  the  endowment  for  the 
previous  two  fiscal  years  toward  current 
operations.) 

The  Trustee  Investment  Committee  is 
vigilant  in  maintaining  an  "aggressively 
prudent"  posture  in  endowment  invest- 
ments, and  it  should  continue  to  do  so. 
But  while  the  financial  aid  example  above 
is  a  bit  misleading,  since  only  a  portion 
of  the  money  we  allocate  to  student  aid 
comes  from  endowment  income,  it  does 
suggest  that  were  we  to  try  to  fund  student 
aid  entirely  on  our  own  (unaided  by  re- 
sources such  as  ROTC  scholarships),  we 
would  be  able  to  do  nothing  else  (beyond 
what  we  could  raise  money  for  directly). 

We  can  help  reduce  the  amount  of  the 
unrestricted  endowment  we  now  spend  on 
student  aid  by  building  up  an  endowment 
specifically  restricted  to  this  purpose, 
though  a  look  at  Table  2  suggests  that 
we  have  a  ways  to  go  before  we  reach  a 
more  secure  plateau.  About  65  to  75  per- 
cent of  all  engineering  and  applied  science 
students  enrolled  at  private  institutions 
receive  need-based  aid.  So  unless  we  cre- 
ate new  programs  that  might  appeal  to  a 
more  affluent  constituency,  our  financial 
aid  needs  will  not  go  away.  And  since 
future  enrollment  in  programs  that  WPI 
currently  offers  is  likely  to  come  increas- 
ingly from  minority  families,  our  financial 
aid  costs  are  likely  to  continue  their 
upward  spiral. 

There  is  a  bit  of  the  chicken-and-egg 
issue  here.  A  $1  million  expenditure  on 
financial  aid  will  support  about  20  high- 


WPI  Journal       35 


Table  3.  DISTINGUISHED  FACULTY  ENDOWMENTS  AT  WPI 

George  I.  Alden  Chair  in  Engineering (1970)* 

Paris  Fletcher  Distinguished  Professorship  in  the  Humanities (1985) 

George  F.  Fuller  Professorship  in  Mechanical  Engineering (1964) 

Harold  J.  Gay  Professorship  in  Mathematics (1968) 

Robert  H.  Grant  Distinguished  Professor  of  Entrepreneurship (1988) 

Weston  Hadden  Professor  of  Electrical  Engineering (1983) 

John  Woodman  Higgins  Professor  of  Mechanical  Engineering (1962) 

Milton  Prince  Higgins  Professorship  in  Manufacturing (1988) 

Leonard  P.  Kinnicutt  Professorship (1964) 

Kenneth  G.  Merriam  Professorship  in  Mechanical  Engineering (1977) 

Morgan-Worcester  Distinguished  Instructorship (1974) 

Walter  and  Miriam  B.  Rutman  Professorship  in  Chemistry (1986) 

Joseph  Samuel  Satin  Distinguished  Fellowship  in  Electrical  Engineering  .(1982) 

Russell  M.  Searle  Instructorship  in  Mechanical  Engineering (1978) 

John  E.  Sinclair  Professorship  in  Mathematics (1915) 

Harry  G.  Stoddard  Professorship  in  Management (1982) 

The  White  Family  Professorship  (at-large) (1987) 

'Year  ol  Establishment 


Table  4.   ENDOWED  GRADUATE  FELLOWSHIPS 
AND  ASSISTANTSHIPS  AT  WPI 

Arvid  and  Marietta  Anderson  '20  Fellowship 

Robert  H.  '08  and  Esther  Goddard  Fellowship 

John  C.  Metzger  Jr.  '46  Teaching  Assistantship 
(Chemical  Engineering  or  Chemistry) 

Norton  Company  Fellowship  (Mechanical  Engineering) 

Robert  S.  Parks  1893  Fellowship 

Carl  '11  and  Inez  Weidenmiller  Fellowship 

Helen  E.  Stoddard  Fellowship  in  Materials  Science 

Ralph  E.  Spaulding  '09  Fellowship  (Structural  or  Construction  Engineering) 


need  students  for  four  years.  A  like 
expenditure  in  programs  or  facilities,  on 
the  other  hand,  will  have  a  direct  and  last- 
ing impact  on  institutional  quality.  Still, 
without  good  students  there  would  be 
no  need  for  enriched  programs,  and 
vice  versa. 

Some  of  our  readers  will  recall  being 
invited  in  1989  to  support  the  new  Alumni 
Scholars  Endowment  (Figure  3).  Since  few 
donors  can  afford  to  contribute  the  mini- 
mum of  $50,000  it  requires  to  endow  an 
individually  named  scholarship,  the 
Alumni  Scholars  Endowment  is  an  ideal 
way  for  donors  to  commingle  their  smaller 
gifts  to  build  what  1  hope  will  be  a  major 
income  stream  for  future  generations  of 
WPI  students.  Incidentally,  about  $22.2 
million  of  our  endowment  currently  con- 
sists of  gifts  restricted  to  financial  aid. 
We  would  need  about  $175  million  (in 
current  dollars)  to  cover  our  current 
student  population! 


Program 
Maintenance 
and  Enrichment 
Endowment 

The  creation  of  dis- 
tinguished profes- 
sorships and  gradu- 
ate fellowships  and 
assistantships  is  a 
popular  and  impor- 
tant way  for  colleges 
and  universities  to 
enhance  their  en- 
dowments. This 
type  of  endowment 
secures  a  growing 
share  of  an  insti- 
tution's instructional 
costs — in  perpetu- 
ity— helping  to  insu- 
late the  institution 
against  ups  and 
downs  in  student 
enrollment  and  peri- 
ods of  economic 
stress.  Therefore, 
not  only  do  named 
chairs  help  recruit 
and  retain  the  ablest 
faculty,  they  can  re- 
lieve the  pressure  on 
operating  budgets. 

In  fact,  while 
such  chairs  were 
once  "add-ons"  to 
faculty  counts,  more 
and  more  they  are 
being  used  to  help  in  budget  relief.  If  you 
were  to  survey  the  nation's  most  distin- 
guished institutions,  you'd  find  that  re- 
stricted endowment  building  for  this  ob- 
jective is  growing  apace.  In  fact,  at  some 
of  the  richest  institutions,  you'd  discover 
that  about  25  percent  of  faculty  members 
either  hold  endowed  chairs  or  receive 
much  of  their  compensation  from  endow- 
ment restricted  to  faculty  and  instruction. 
Some  $7.9  million  of  WPI's  endowment 
is  currently  restricted  to  faculty  chairs.  In 
addition,  $3.6  million  was  pledged  during 
the  Campaign  for  Excellence  for  this  pur- 
pose (Tables  3  and  4).  I'm  pleased  that  six 
endowed  chairs  and  eight  fellowships  and 
assistantships  were  generated  during  the 
Campaign,  but  we  need  a  great  many 
more — of  both.  (One  day  I  hope  we  have 
a  distinguished  endowed  professorship 
named  in  honor  of  Robert  H.  Goddard  '08; 
Princeton  and  Caltech  do!)  In  addition, 
there  are  open  opportunities  at  WPI  for 


endowing  the  positions  of  provost,  under- 
graduate and  graduate  deans,  academic 
department  heads,  head  librarian,  athletic 
director,  and  so  on.  We  are  limited  only  by 
the  interest  and  imagination  of  our  pro- 
spective donors! 

Building  Trusts 

I've  saved  the  hardest  for  last,  for  here 
the  climb  requires  sturdy  legs.  The  need  to 
build  endowments  for  financial  aid  and  the 
faculty  are  obvious  and  well-understood. 
Without  students  and  faculty,  there  would 
be  no  institution,  and  if  either  is  substan- 
tially undernourished,  the  quality  of  our 
outcomes — educated  young  men  and 
women — will  not  command  the  support  of 
our  most  promising  future  donors.  But  our 
buildings  and  facilities  play  an  equally  vital 
role  in  the  success  of  the  Institute. 

When  Yale  University  decided  to  com- 
mit a  more  significant  portion  of  its  annual 
operating  budget  and  future  fund-raising 
efforts  to  rebuilding  its  long-neglected 
physical  plant,  President  Benno  Schmidt 
suggested  that  it  wouldn't  be  Yale  were  the 
university  to  conduct  its  educational  pro- 
grams in  tents.  Vartan  Gregorian,  president 
of  Brown  University,  recently  expressed  a 
similar  sentiment.  Facing  growing  pressure 
to  increase  spending  for  financial  aid 
(Brown  currently  provides  aid  for  38  per- 
cent of  its  student  body),  Gregorian  noted 
that  if  Brown  were  to  respond  to  that  pres- 
sure and  neglect  the  other  things  that 
make  it  an  attractive  institution — things 
like  the  campus  and  the  faculty — Brown 
would  not  remain  an  attractive  place  for 
future  students. 

Repairing  roofs,  repointing  brick 
facades  and  painting  classroom  walls  are 
hardly  seductive  fund-raising  targets.  And 
because  buildings  don't  talk,  they  are  often 
neglected  or  forgotten,  as  financial  re- 
sources get  stretched  to  cover  other  grow- 
ing human  needs  and  opportunities. 

Universities  and  colleges  mean  many 
things  to  many  people,  but  the  appearance 
of  the  physical  plant  is  often  a  common 
denominator.  While  graduates  may  look 
back  fondly  on  notable  or  caring  faculty 
members,  on  friendships  gained,  on  time 
spent  in  intercollegiate  athletic  competi- 
tion, or  on  the  challenge  of  mental  confron- 
tation, they  almost  always  remember  the 
beauty  of  the  campus  as  it  was  in  their  day. 
Current  students,  faculty  and  staff  want 
the  environment  in  which  they  spend 
much  of  their  waking  hours  to  be  attrac- 
tive and  well-equipped.  Prospective 


36 


Winter  1992 


students,  faculty  and  staff  want  to  know 
that  the  campus  is  inviting  and  up-to-date, 
and  that  the  library  collections,  computer 
facilities,  and  out-of-class  environments 
convey  a  sense  of  institutional  strength. 

A  growing  number  of  institutions  will 
no  longer  erect  new  academic  space  un- 
less there  is  an  up-front  endowment  to 
maintain  that  space.  In  one  of  its  many 
wise  and  enlightened  programs,  The 
Kresge  Foundation  focused  upon  a  unique 
subset  of  this  issue— keeping  teaching 
laboratories  in  the  sciences  current.  WPI 
was  one  of  several  institutions  to  receive 
a  challenge  grant  from  Kresge's  Science 
Laboratory  Initiative.  The  $325,000  grant 
challenged  us  to  raise  $1.3  million  for  an 
endowment  that  will  keep  current  our 
new  Bioprocess  Science  and  Technology 
Laboratory,  located  in  the  102-year-old 
Salisbury  Laboratories  (Figure  4). 

In  the  narrow  sense,  the  foundation 
required  us  to  make  a  major  commitment 
to  ensure  the  currency  and  usefulness  of 
the  laboratory  in  the  years  to  come.  In  the 
larger  sense,  though,  it  reminded  us  that 
as  a  science-  and  technology-driven  institu- 
tion, we  must  think  not  only  about  main- 
taining our  buildings,  but  what  goes  on 
within  those  buildings.  One  of  our  trust- 
ees, S.  Merrill  Skeist  '40,  put  it  well  when 
he  said  a  modern  laboratory  is  like  a  preci- 
sion machine;  both  need  substantial  care 
and  continuous  investment  if  they  are  to 
remain  useful. 

So  what  we  are  embarking  upon  is  a 
special  climb  to  create  minimum  endow- 
ment-maintenance funds,  first  for  our  his- 
toric buildings — Boynton,  Washburn  and 
Stoddard,  Salisbury,  Atwater  Kent,  and 
Stratton — and  then  for  all  our  academic 
buildings— Higgins,  Olin,  Goddard,  Kaven, 
Fuller,  Gordon  Library  and  Alden  Memo- 
rial. Worth  pointing  out  here  is  that  most 
of  our  academic-use  buildings  (Higgins, 
Gordon  Library  and  Harrington  Audito- 
rium are  major  exceptions)  were  the  gifts 
of  friends,  not  alumni.  At  the  very  least, 
we  owe  it  to  their  memory  to  care  for 
these  structures. 

Long  before  we  thought  of  doing  this, 
one  discerning  donor  started  a  mainte- 
nance fund  for  Harrington  Auditorium. 
That  donor  still  contributes  to  the  fund 
each  year,  and  has  already  built  up  nearly 
$300,000  for  this  important  initiative. 

Properly  endowed,  maintenance  funds 
will  enable  WPI  to  keep  all  of  its  academic 
buildings  in  full  repair  (Table  5  includes 
target  endowments  for  each  building). 


Figure  4.  BIOPROCESS  LABORATORY 
MINICAMPAIGN  (1990) 


The  Objective:  Help  raise  $1 .3  million  to  create 
a  permanent  maintenance  endowment  for 
the  Institute's  new  Bioprocess  Technology 
Laboratory. 

The  Challenge:  The  Kresge  Foundation  pledged 
$325,000  toward  the  construction  of  the  lab  if 
WPI  could  raise  the  funds  for  the  endowment. 
The  Audience:  6,000  alumni  and  parents,  includ- 
ing biology  and  life  sciences  majors,  and  alumni 
with  little  or  no  giving  to  WPI  since  1986. 
Individuals  with  outstanding  pledges  to  the 
Campaign  for  Excellence  were  excluded. 
Donors:  1 ,320  alumni  and  1 ,056  parents. 
Total  Pledged:  $347,248  (exclusive  of  match- 
ing gift  monies).  $171 ,876  was  from  alumni  and 
$175,372  from  parents. 

(This  campaign  has  been  completed.) 


However,  it  should  be  noted  that  our 
intent  is  not  to  provide  funds  to  retrofit 
any  building  for  new  uses;  that  would 
fall  under  the  heading  of  a  "one-of-a-kind" 
project.  We've  called  this  new,  highly 
important  endowment  initiative  Building 
Trusts,  and  have  designed  a  special  logo 
(Figure  6)  to  identify  it. 

Much  like  the  financial  aid  and  aca- 
demic chairs  and  fellowship  endowments, 
Building  Trusts  will  create  an  additional, 
growing  component  of  our  endowment, 
making  deferred  maintenance  less  depen- 
dent on  funds  from  the  operating  budget. 
In  a  sense,  we'll  be  giving  our  buildings  a 
voice  of  their  own. 

In  summary,  our  key  objective  for  the 
next  several  years  will  be  to  build  our 
endowment  to  provide  the  resources 
needed  to  enable  WPI  to  remain  the 
special  place  it  has  been  for  so  many  of 
us.  While  our  current  resources  are  the 
envy  of  many  lesser  institutions,  we  still 
have  a  long  climb  to  ensure  that  they  can 
place  us  among  the  very  best.  And  you 
know,  I  just  happen  to  think  that  that  is 
where  those  who  will  make  a  difference 
want  us  to  be. 

— Donald  F.  Berth  '57 

Berth  is  vice  president  for  university  relations. 


Figure  5.  ATHLETIC  ENDOWMENT 
MINICAMPAIGN  (1991) 


The  Objective:  Create  an  endowed  fund  to 
help  sustain  an  excellent  and  diverse  athletics 
program  for  all  students. 
The  Challenge:  George  T.  Abdow  '53  pledged 
$1  for  every  $2  raised,  up  to  $100,000. 
The  Audience:  8,000  alumni  and  parents,  in- 
cluding all  Poly  Club  members,  participants  in 
club,  intramural,  recreational  and  varsity  ath- 
letics, and  nonathletes  whose  cumulative  giv- 
ing for  the  previous  three  years  was  below 
$100.  Individuals  with  outstanding  pledges  to 
the  Campaign  for  Excellence  were  excluded. 
Donors:  890  alumni  and  655  parents. 
Total  Pledged:  $1 76,478  (exclusive  of  match- 
ing gift  monies).  $109,962  was  from  alumni 
and  $66,516  from  parents. 

(This  campaign  is  ongoing.) 


Table  5.  BUILDING  TRUST  ENDOWMENTS 
FOR  MAJOR  ACADEMIC/CAMPUS 
BUILDINGS* 

Alden  Memorial $1,630,000 

Atwater  Kent  Laboratories 2,165,000 

Boynton  Hall 1,230,000 

Fuller  Laboratories 3,790,000 

Goddard  Hall 2,450,000 

Gordon  Library 2,390,000 

Harrington  Auditorium 3,035,000 

Higgins  Laboratories 2,055,000 

Kaven  Hall 1,235,000 

Olin  Hall 1,315,000 

Salisbury  Laboratories 2,565,000 

Stratton  Hall 745,000 

Washburn/Stoddard 1 ,465,000 

'Basis:  Endowments  that  earn  5.5%  (under  WPI's 
"spending  rule,"  income  available  for  current  opera- 
tions equals  5.5%  of  the  average  market  value  at 
close,  June  30,  for  the  previous  two  years).  Each 
building's  maintenance  is  calculated  at  2%  of  its 
current  replacement  value. 


Figure  6. 


BUILDING 
TRUSTS 
AT  WPI 


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INSTITUTE 


SPRING  1992 


Exploring 

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WPI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCVI  NO.  2    SPRING  1992 


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The  Discoverers    Michael  Dorsey 

This  year  the  world  remembers  a  voyage  of  discovery  made  five 
centuries  ago  by  an  Italian  cartographer  named  Christopher 
Columbus.  Today,  modern  Columbuses  are  at  work  in  many  fields, 
pushing  back  the  boundaries  of  the  unknown.  Here  are  the  stories 
of  seven  alumni  who've  made  their  own  voyages  of  discovery  as 
scientists  and  inventors. 


Charting  a  New  Course    Michael  Dorsey 
For  centuries,  the  arts  of  exploration  and  mapmaking  have  gone 
hand  in  hand.  Today,  at  the  headquarters  of  Hammond  Inc.,  one 
of  the  nation's  largest  publishers  of  maps  and  atlases,  they  are 
opening  new  frontiers  in  mapmaking  itself. 


Building  a  New  Window  on  the  World    Michael  Dorsey 
To  scientists  studying  the  phenomenon  of  global  change,  dealing 
with  a  staggering  amount  of  data  on  the  Earth  and  its  natural 
systems  can  be  a  major  obstacle.  Three  WPI  computer  scientists 
may  have  the  answer — a  brand  new  way  of  storing  and  processing 
scientific  information. 


Al  Anderson  Starts  a  New  Chapter    Bonnie  Gelbwasser 
For  nearly  three  decades,  WPI's  modest  head  librarian  has  worked 
hard  to  make  sure  WPI's  library  has  grown  and  changed  with  the 
changing  demands  of  its  patrons.  As  he  approaches  retirement, 
Anderson  looks  back  on  a  long  and  productive  career. 


DEPARTMENTS 

L     Advance  Word:  In  Praise  of  Discovery.   Michael  Dorsey 
61     Final  Word:  Lighting  a  Fire  in  Young  Minds.   Ruth  Trask 


On  the  Coven  The  world  as  it  was  known  to  17th  century  explorers.  Story  on  page  4. 
Map  courtesy  of  Hammond  Inc.  Opposite:  An  undergraduate  finds  a  quiet  spot  among  the 
stacks  in  Gordon  Library  to  explore  a  book.  Story  on  page  27.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Carol  Hoyle  Ballard 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Cleary  '71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82 

•  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  •  William  R.  Grogan  '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams  '50  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128) 
is  published  quarterly  for  the  WPI  Alumni  Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second  class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  MA,  and  additional  mailing  offices. 
Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence 
to  the  Editor,  WPI  Journal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  mail  (Internet):  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu. 
Postmaster:  If  undeliverable,  please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  ®1992,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


ADVANCE  WORD 


In  Praise  of  Discovery 


"The  world  we  now 
view  from  the  literate  west — 
the  vistas  of  time,  the  land 
and  the  seas,  the  heavenly 
bodies  and  our  own  bodies, 
the  plants  and  animals,  his- 
tory and  human  societies — 
had  to  be  opened  for  us  by 
countless  Columbuses.  In  the 
deep  present  they  emerge 
into  the  light  of  history,  a 
cast  of  characters  as  varied 
as  human  nature.  Discover- 
ies become  episodes  of 
biography,  unpredictable  as 
the  new  worlds  the  discover- 
ers opened  to  us. " 


JOSEPH  H.  BAILEY.  NATIONAL  GEOGRAPHIC  SOCIETY,  COPYRIGHT  191 


With  those  words,  Daniel  J.  Boorstin 
began  his  monumental  1983  study, 
The  Discoverers.  This  year,  as  we 
observe  the  500th  anniversary  of  Christo- 
pher Columbus'  first  voyage  of  discovery 
to  what  would  come  to  be  called  the  New 
World,  it  seems  fitting  that  we  turn  our 
attention  to  the  men  and  women  who 
have  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  the  great 
explorers,  scientists  and  inventors.  They 
have  pushed  back  the  boundaries  of  the 
known  and  shed  light  on  the  unknown;  and 
like  the  protagonists  of  the  popular  televi- 
sion series  Star  Trek,  they  have  gone  where 
no  one  has  gone  before. 

In  tribute  to  this  pioneering  spirit,  WP1 
devoted  its  124th  Commencement  exer- 
cises on  May  23  to  the  theme,  "Discovery: 
Seeking  Answers  to  the  Unknown."  The 
theme  provided  an  opportunity  to  recog- 
nize a  number  of  individuals  who  have 
earned  the  title  "discoverer."  They  in- 
cluded Jane  E.  Shaw,  president  and  chief 
operating  officer  of  ALZA  Corp.,  a  world 
leader  in  the  development  of  innovative 
drug  delivery  systems. 


Shaw,  who  received  her  bachelor's 
degree  and  doctorate  in  physiology  from 
the  University  of  Birmingham  in  England, 
spent  the  years  between  1964  and  1970  at 
the  highly-regarded  Worcester  Foundation 
for  Experimental  Biology,  where  she  con- 
ducted research  on  prostaglandins,  cyclic 
fatty  acids  that  act  like  hormones  in  the 
body,  helping  regulate  blood  pressure 
and  aiding  in  the  contraction  of  smooth 
muscle.  She  joined  ALZA  in  1970  and  as- 
sumed her  current  post  in  1985.  A  holder 
of  seven  patents  and  the  author  of  more 
than  100  papers  in  scientific  journals,  she 
is  also  known  for  her  research  in  gastric 
physiology  and  the  transdermal  perme- 
ation of  drugs. 

Commencement  speaker  Robert  D. 
Ballard  may  embody  more  fully  than  most 
the  true  spirit  of  the  discoverer.  Born  in 
Wichita,  Kan.,  he  earned  a  bachelor's  de- 
gree in  geology  and  chemistry  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  California  at  Santa  Barbara.  He 
attended  graduate  school  at  the  University 
of  Southern  California,  the  University  of 
Hawaii,  and  the  University  of  Rhode  Island, 


from  which  he  received  his  Ph.D.  in  marine 
geology  and  geophysics. 

Today,  Ballard  is  a  senior  scientist  in 
the  department  of  applied  ocean  physics 
and  engineering  and  director  of  the  Center 
for  Marine  Exploration  at  the  Woods  Hole 
Oceanographic  Institute.  It  is  in  his  capac- 
ity as  marine  explorer  that  Ballard  has 
captured  the  imagination  of  millions 
around  the  world. 

Ballard  has  led  or  participated  in  50 
deep-sea  expeditions,  exploring  the  world 
under  the  sea  in  such  submersibles  as 
Alvin,  Trieste  II  and  AT?-/.  On  one  of  those 
expeditions,  mounted  in  1974,  Ballard  rode 
in  the  cramped,  dimly  lit  sphere  inside 
Alvin  nearly  two  miles  beneath  the  Atlan- 
tic— the  same  ocean  Columbus  crossed 
nearly  500  years  before — to  get  the  first 
close-up  look  at  the  mid-ocean  ridge. 

Like  a  46,000-mile  seam  that  rings  the 
world,  splitting  the  seabed  beneath  most 
of  the  world's  oceans,  the  mid-ocean  ridge 
is  the  source  of  the  phenomenon  known  as 
continental  drift.  Searing  hot  lava  emerges 
from  this  rift  in  the  sea  bottom,  adding  to 


Spring  1992 


the  sea  floor  and  pushing  apart  the  plates 
on  which  the  continents  ride.  In  fact,  were 
he  to  make  his  voyage  today,  Columbus 
would  have  to  sail  a  bit  farther— about  30 
feet— because  of  seafloor  spreading. 

Because  measurements  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  ocean  floor  near  the  mid-ocean 
ridge  showed  that  the  rock  there  was  cooler 
than  it  should  have  been,  given  the  rela- 
tively short  (in  geological  terms)  period  it 
had  had  to  cool,  scientists  had  theorized 
that  cold  seawater  must  somehow  pen- 
etrate the  crust,  pick  up  heat,  and  bring  it 
back  to  the  surface.  But  no  one  had  ever 
seen  the  vents  from  which  this  hot  water 
must  reemerge. 

In  1977  Ballard  organized  an  expedition 
to  a  deep  ocean  rift  near  the  Galapagos 
Islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean.  An  unmanned 
vessel  called  Angus  was  sent  down  to  find 
and  photograph  any  sources  of  unusually 
warm  water.  When  the  film  was  processed, 
Ballard  and  his  fellow  scientists  were 
startled  to  see  a  strange  world  populated 
by  giant,  foot-long  clams.  When  he  dove  to 
the  vents  himself  inside  Alvin,  Ballard  found 
that  tube  worms,  rattail  fish,  anemones  and 
crabs  also  live  in  this  community,  which 
thrives  thousands  of  feet  deeper  than  the 
last  ray  of  sunlight  can  penetrate. 

Analysis  of  the  water  pouring  forth  from 
the  vents  provided  the  answer  to  how  these 
creatures  survived  in  an  environment  that 
should  have  been  devoid  of  life.  The  water 
was  chock  full  of  hydrogen  sulfide  (the  gas 
that  gives  rotten  eggs  their  foul  odor)  and 
bacteria.  The  bacteria  metabolized  the 
hydrogen  sulfide.  In  the  process  they  con- 
verted carbon  dioxide  in  the  water  to  or- 
ganic carbon  compounds.  The  bacteria, 
in  turn,  became  food  for  the  community 
of  vent  animals. 


On  a  1979  dive  to  the  East  Pacific  Rise  off 
the  coast  of  Mexico,  Ballard  and  his  crew 
became  the  first  people  to  observe  "black 
smokers,"  chimneys  formed  from  iron,  zinc, 
copper  sulfides  and  silver  that  belch  forth 
jets  of  black  water  hot  enough  to  melt  lead. 
The  flow  of  dissolved  minerals  from  the 
black  smokers  and  the  warm-water  vents 
may  explain  how  the  ocean  became  so  salty, 
a  mystery  that  has  long  eluded  scientists. 

Ballard  may  be  best  known  for  his  dis- 
coveries of  the  R.M.S.  Titanic  in  1985  and 
the  German  battleship  Bismarck  in  1989. 
Both  ships  were  extensively  explored  by 
submersibles,  including  Argo,  an  unmanned 
vessel  loaded  with  video  cameras  and 
lights,  and  Jason  Junior  (JJ),  a  small  robotic 
platform  attached  to  Argo  by  a  tether  that 
can  explore  and  photograph  places  that  are 
too  risky  for  Argo — including  the  interior  of 
the  Titanic.  The  high-resolution  pictures 
sent  back  by  these  machines  painted  haunt- 
ing portraits  of  these  once-proud  ships. 

After  the  Titanic  expeditions,  Ballard 
received  hundreds  of  letters  from  school- 
children seeking  information  about  how  he 
found  and  explored  the  ship.  In  1989  he 
established  the  Jason  Foundation  for  Educa- 
tion to  bring  the  excitement  of  undersea 
exploration  directly  to  youngsters  around 
the  nation.  Using  the  power  of  satellite  com- 
munications, Ballard  has  taken  more  than 
500,000  schoolchildren  with  him  on  explora- 
tions of  a  fourth-century  Roman  shipwreck 
in  the  Mediterranean,  sunken  ships  from  the 
War  of  1812  in  Canada's  Lake  Ontario,  and 
the  Galapagos  Islands. 

Named  for  the  mythological  Greek  ex- 
plorer who  discovered  the  Golden  Fleece, 
the  foundation  has  established  primary 
interaction  sites  (PINS)  at  several  locations 
around  the  country.  One  such  site  was  set 


Opposite,  technicians  prepare  to 
send  a  small  robotic  submersible 
called  Medea  below  on  a  Jason 
Foundation  expedition.  Left,  aboard 
the  research  ship  Star  Hercules, 
Robert  Ballard  points  to  an  image 
of  the  German  battleship  Bismarck 
sent  up  from  the  deep  by  Argo. 

up  in  1991  at  the  New  England  Science 
Center  in  Worcester.  Each  PIN  received  a 
command  center  that  recreates  the  control 
station  on  Ballard's  ship  from  which  Argo 
and  Jason,  the  successor  to  JJ,  are  con- 
trolled. Students  at  PINS  can  watch  the 
underwater  explorations  live  on  large  tele- 
vision monitors.  At  a  few  sites,  including  the 
New  England  Science  Center,  students  can 
even  fly  the  underwater  robots. 

Throughout  his  career,  Ballard  has  been 
driven  by  an  almost  primal  urge  to  see  what 
no  one  else  has  seen,  to  find  the  answers 
that  have  eluded  others,  and  to  broaden 
our  understanding  of  the  world  in  which 
we  live.  That  motivation  has  nudged  many 
WPI  alumni  into  successful  careers  as  scien- 
tists and  inventors.  In  the  pages  that  follow, 
you  will  meet  several  of  them.  Two,  acousti- 
cal oceanographer  Herman  Medwin  '41 
(page  7)  and  entrepreneur  Dean  Kamen  '73 
(page  32),  joined  Ballard  and  Shaw  on  the 
platform  at  Commencement  recently  to 
receive  honorary  degrees. 

In  this  issue  you  will  also  meet  Caleb 
Hammond  '37,  chairman  of  Hammond  Inc., 
one  of  the  nation's  largest  publishers  of 
maps  and  atlases.  Most  of  us  have  taken 
voyages  of  our  own  across  strange  lands 
and  seas  by  delving  into  the  pages  of  the 
family  atlas.  It  may  be  no  coincidence  that 
Columbus  himself  was  a  cartographer  be- 
fore he  convinced  Queen  Isabella  to  fund 
his  first  trip  across  the  Atlantic.  The  desire 
to  explore  and  map  the  unknown  is  very 
likely  a  basic  element  of  human  nature,  one 
that  burns  in  all  our  hearts. 

As  they  begin  their  careers,  the  WPI 
students  who  recently  received  their  hard- 
earned  degrees  will  find  no  lack  of  unan- 
swered questions  and  uncharted  waters. 
But,  where  once  explorers  were  lured 
across  oceans  and  deep  into  unexplored 
continents,  today  they  may  find  themselves 
reaching  out  to  the  far  side  of  the  universe 
or  into  the  very  foundation  of  the  atoms 
that  make  up  everything  we  see. 

"This  is  a  story  without  end,"  Boorstin 
wrote.  "All  the  world  is  still  an  America. 
The  most  promising  words  ever  written 
on  the  maps  of  human  knowledge  are  terra 
incognita — unknown  territory." 

— Michael  Dorsey 


Spring  1992 


Discoverers 

By  Michael  Dorsey 

Five  hundred  years  ago,  Columbus  set  sail  into 
unexplored  waters  in  search  of  a  new  route  to  the 
Indies.  While  we  remember  Columbus  this  year, 
he  was  just  one  of  countless  human  beings  driven 
by  the  need  to  go  where  no  one  has  gone  before, 
to  build  what  no  one  before  has  even  dreamed  of, 
and  to  understand  what  once  evaded  under- 
standing. In  the  following  pages  are  chronicled 
the  stories  of  seven  remarkable  scientists  and 
inventors  who  have  listened  to  that  inner  voice 
that  calls  all  of  us  toward  the  unknown  —  toward 
that  unexplored  region  just  beyond  the  horizon. 


Spring  1992 


A  Magnificent  Career 
Driven  by  Imagination 


During  a  career  that  has  spanned  more  than  four  decades, 
C.  Chapin  Cutler  '37  has  often  found  himself  squarely  at 
the  leading  edge  of  the  rapidly  changing  field  of  electron- 
ics. His  inventions  in  radar  and  radio,  telephone  and  tele- 
vision communications  have  earned  him  more  than  80  patents  and 
a  worldwide  reputation.  "I  don't  think  I'm  really  that  smart,"  Cutler 
says  as  he  looks  back  on  those  years.  "1  just  think  my  imagination  got 
turned  on  at  an  early  age  and  that  gave  me  tremendous  motivation." 

Cutler  says  he  vividly  remembers  the  moment  his  interest  in  ra- 
dio caught  fire.  He  was  14  and  sitting  around  with  friends  at  a  sum- 
mer camp  not  far  from  his  home  in  Springfield,  Mass.  "This  one 
camper  had  a  yarn,"  Cutler  says.  "He  said  his  brother  had  taken 
some  old  radio  parts,  built  himself  a  transmitter,  and  used  it  to  talk 
with  people  all  over  the  world.  I  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

But  the  story  intrigued  Cutler,  who  went  to  the  Springfield  Public 
Library  to  look  for  books  on  radio.  The  only  one  he  could  find  was  a 
massive  tome  by  a  Columbia  University  professor.  Fortunately,  a 
friend  steered  him  to  a  popular  pulp  magazine  that  had  an  article 
on  building  a  one-tube  "junk-box"  radio.  With  parts  purchased  at  a 
local  Goodwill  store,  Cutler  assembled  the  radio,  slipped  on  the  ear- 
phones, and  heard  the  dits  and  dashes  of  a  Morse  code  signal 
from  a  station  in  Mexico  City.  He  was  hooked. 

A  short  time  later  his  father  took  him  to  a  talk  by  a 
visiting  scientist  from  the  recently  established  Bell 
Telephone  Laboratories.  "The  show  was  called 
'The  Wonders  of  Radio  and  Communication,'" 
Cutler  says.  "The  guy  modulated  a  neon  bulb, 
talked  over  a  light  beam,  popped  corn  with 
radio  waves,  and  demonstrated  inverted 
speech.  I  was  on  the  edge  of  my  chair. 
That's  when  I  learned  about  Bell  Labora- 
tories, and  that's  when  I  decided  what 
1  wanted  to  do  with  my  career." 

Before  he  could  work  at  Bell  Labs,  he 
needed  an  education,  so  he  enrolled  at  WPI 
in  1933.  His  first  concern,  though,  was  not 
academics  but  money.  Since  his  family  could 
not  provide  financial  help,  he  had  to  pay  his 
own  way.  With  the  help  of  a  young  in- 
structor of  English  named  Paul 
Swan,  Cutler  found  dozens  of  odd 
jobs,  including  cleaning  windows 
and  stoking  the  boiler  in  the 
president's  house  and  tending 
the  boilers  on  winter  evenings  at 
the  home  of  Aldus  Higgins  (now 
called  Higgins  House). 

Cutler  began  his  WPI  career  as 
an  electrical  engineering  major,  but 
realized  after  his  sophomore  year 
that  the  electric  power  orientation 


This  rendering  of  the  Cutler  Feed 
appeared  in  Time  magazine  in  1945 


of  the  curriculum  wouldn't  suit  his  needs.  Against  the  advice  of 
several  of  his  professors,  he  and  classmate  Nathaniel  I.  Korman  '37 
became  general  science  majors  and  designed  their  own  course  of 
study,  including  courses  in  advanced  calculus  and  advanced  physics. 

He  was  hired  by  Bell  Labs  shortly  after  his  graduation  in  1937. 
During  his  first  week  he  met  Ralph  Bown,  head  of  radio  research,  and 
it  was,  Cutler  says,  "a  love  affair.  There's  no  doubt  about  it,  he  liked 
me  as  much  as  I  liked  him."  The  fatherly  Bown  took  Cutler  under  his 
wing  and  assigned  him  to  a  project  team  that  was  designing  a  12- 
channel  transmitter  to  improve  trans-Atlantic  telephone  communi- 
cations. When  that  project  was  completed,  he  became  involved  in 
a  crash,  multi-corporation  effort  to  design  a  radio  proximity  fuse 
for  anti-aircraft  shells.  "That  and  radar  won  the  Battle  of  Britain," 
Cutler  remembers. 

Radar,  which  was  just  being  developed  as  Cutler  joined  Bell  Labs, 
would  become  his  next  project.  In  the  fall  of  1941  he  was  asked  to 
design  the  waveguide  circuitry  for  a  radar  that  would  operate  in  the 
three-centimeter  band  (called  the  x-band).  Because  a  radar  antenna 
must  continually  rotate  through  a  full  360  degrees,  the  antenna  and 
the  amplifier  can't  be  connected  by  a  wire  or  a  fixed  waveguide — a 
special  conduit  for  the  microwaves.  Rotating  joints  and  a  series  of 
twists  and  bends  in  the  waveguide  are  needed  to  get  the 
energy  into  the  spinning  antenna. 

"A  buddy  and  1  engineered  that  well,"  Cutler  says, 
"but  we  needed  the  antenna  to  terminate  the  wave- 
guide. We  acquired  the  design  and  reproduced  the 
antenna,  but  it  didn't  work;  there  was  something  fun- 
damentally wrong  with  it.  I  lay  awake  nights  trying 
to  figure  out  how  to  fix  it.  I  went  back  to  the  lab,  and 
with  tin  snips,  ceiling  wax  and  chewing  gum,  put 
together  an  antenna  that  worked." 

The  waveguide-antenna  system,  dubbed  the 
Cutler  Feed,  was  produced  by  the  thousands  and 
was  aboard  every  allied  bomber  that  flew  over 
Japan  during  the  war.  It  also  earned  Cutler  his  first 
patent.  "After  that  1  became  known  as  an  inventor,"  he 
says,  "which  meant  that  there  was  someone  from 
the  Bell  Labs  patent  department  looking 
over  my  shoulder  for  ideas.  That's  how 
I  was  able  to  get  so  many  patents.  A 
lot  of  them  aren't  worth  the  paper 
they're  printed  on.  One  invention 
that  I  am  proud  of  is  the  corrugated 
waveguide,  which  was  classified  in 
this  country  for  many  years." 
After  the  war  Cutler's  focus 
shifted  to  microwave  amplifiers. 
He  began  by  working  on  thermionic 
(triode)  tubes  adopted  for  microwave 
amplification.  However,  in  1944 
news  reached  America  of  Rudolph 


WPI  Journal 


As  one  of  the  directors  of  Project  Echo,  Cutler  started  a  tape  of  President  Eisen 
hower's  voice,  which  became  the  first  signal  sent  coast  to  coast  by  satellite. 


Kompfner's  invention  in  England  of  the  traveling  wave  tube.  "It  is  a 
much  better  amplifier  in  most  respects,"  Cutler  says,  "but  much  work 
and  many  inventions  were  crucial  to  making  it  practical." 

In  close  collaboration  with  John  R.  Pierce,  who  would  ultimately 
become  executive  director  of  research  at  Bell  Labs,  and  Kompfner, 
who  became  associate  director,  Cutler  contributed  many  inventions 
important  to  the  success  of  the  tube,  which  is  now  widely  used  in 
Earth  satellite  relay  systems  and  in  the  military. 

The  launch  of  Sputnik  in  1957  ignited  the  space  race  among  the 
superpowers.  A  few  years  later  the  U.S.  launched  Echo  I,  an  alumi- 
nized  balloon  100  feet  in  diameter  designed  to  study  drag  in  the 
upper  atmosphere.  Bell  Labs  realized  the  satellite  would  make  an 
excellent  testing  ground  for  satellite  communications. 

Partly  under  Cutler's  direction,  Bell  Labs  built  a  tracking  station 
to  monitor  the  satellite  as  it  made  its  regular  passes  over  North 
America.  The  station  was  the  first  to  make  use  of  a  maser,  a  new  kind 
of  microwave  amplifier  that  had  revolutionary  low-noise  characteris- 
tics. A  similar  station  was  set  up  at  the  Jet  Propulsion  Laboratory 
Earth  station  in  Goldstone,  Calif.,  and  the  first  radio  transmission 
ever  relayed  in  real  time  by  satellite — a  recording  of  President  Eisen- 
hower's voice — was  bounced  off  the  satellite  during  its  first  pass. 

"I  remember  starting  that  tape  with  my  own  fingers,"  Cutler  says. 
"It  was  probably  the  most  exciting  period  in  my  life,  because  every- 
thing had  to  be  done  on  the  second.  We  had  to  have  that  antenna 
pointed  exactly  right,  because  this  thing  went  whizzing  from  horizon 
to  horizon  in  just  20  minutes." 

After  the  first  transmission,  Bell  Labs  and  the  Jet  Propulsion  Lab 
scored  other  firsts,  including  the  first  telegraphy  and  facsimile  trans- 
missions by  satellite  and  the  first  interactive  voice  conversation. 
"We  were  looking  for  scientific  information,  too,"  Cutler  says.  "For 
example:  what  is  the  transmission  like,  can  you  track  the  satellite, 
and  is  it  reliable?  For  the  first  week,  we  didn't  miss  a  pass.  We  were 
busy  around  the  clock."  Later,  the  Echo  team  served  as  technical 
advisors  to  Bell  Lab  Engineers  who  developed  Telstar,  the  first  suc- 
cessful active  telecommunications  satellite. 

While  Cutler  says  the  Echo  project  was  one  of  the  most  enjoyable 
of  his  career,  the  work  for  which  he  is  best  known  began  as  a  casual 


lunchtime  conversation  in  the  late  1940s  with 
Bell  Labs  colleague  William  Goodall,  who  was 
applying  pulse  code  modulation  (PCM)  to  the 
transmission  of  television.  The  technique  in- 
volved transmitting  a  television  broadcast  as 
short  bursts,  or  pulses,  of  digital  information. 

Goodall  had  succeeded  in  digitizing  the  tele- 
vision signal,  but  Cutler  saw  an  opportunity  to 
use  the  digitization  process  to  greatly  reduce 
the  amount  of  transmission  capacity  required 
for  television  (1,000  to  2,000  times  the  band- 
width needed  for  voice  transmissions). 

A  television  picture  consists  of  thousands  of 
picture  elements  called  pixels.  A  picture  is  built 
up  line  by  line  as  an  electron  beam  scans  back 
and  forth  across  the  television  screen.  A  com- 
plete picture,  called  a  frame,  consists  of  two 
interlaced  scans  and  is  typically  transmitted 
every  30th  of  a  second. 

Cutler's  idea  stemmed  from  the  fact  that  a 
television  signal  contains  a  high  degree  of  re- 
dundancy. One  picture  element,  line  or  frame 
is  likely  to  be  similar  if  not  identical  to  the  one  that  preceded  it.  In 
Cutler's  scheme,  instead  of  coding  each  sample  separately,  only  the 
difference  between  the  amplitude  of  a  new  sample  and  the  quanti- 
tized  or  coded  value  of  the  previous  sample  is  coded.  Errors  in 
sampling  are  compensated  for  in  subsequent  samples  and  the  trans- 
mission requirements  are  greatly  reduced.  He  named  the  technique 
differential  PCM  or  DPCM.  In  later  years,  when  large  signal-storage 
systems  became  available,  the  idea  was  extended  to  include  the 
correlation  of  lines  and  frames  of  a  television  picture. 

One  of  Cutler's  most  important  patents,  DPCM  received  little 
notice  for  several  years,  but  eventually  the  idea  resurfaced  and 
became  generalized  under  the  term  predictive  coding.  Today,  predic- 
tive coding  is  used  in  digital  television  transmissions,  digital  VCRs, 
fax  machines,  high-definition  television,  medical  imaging  systems 
and  teleconferencing. 

In  1963  Cutler  became  director  of  electronic  systems  research  at 
Bell  Labs.  In  1971  he  was  promoted  again  to  director  of  electronic 
and  computer  systems  research.  During  these  years  he  headed  a 
research  team  that  performed  pioneering  work  into  a  new  form  of 
mobile  radio  that  would  pave  the  way  for  today's  nationwide  cellular 
telephone  service. 

Cutler's  accomplishments  as  a  scientist  and  inventor  have  earned 
him  many  honors  over  the  years.  A  fellow  of  the  American  Associa- 
tion for  the  Advancement  of  Science  and  the  Institute  of  Electrical 
and  Electronics  Engineers,  he  has  received  the  IEEE's  prestigious 
Edison  Medal,  Centennial  Medal,  and  Alexander  Graham  Bell  Medal. 
A  member  of  the  National  Academy  of  Sciences  and  the  National 
Academy  of  Engineering,  he  received  WPI's  Robert  H.  Goddard  '08 
Award  for  Outstanding  Professional  Achievement  in  1982. 

With  no  advanced  degree,  other  than  the  honorary  doctorate  of 
engineering  he  received  from  WPI  in  1975,  he  has  taught  Ph.D.  candi- 
dates at  Berkeley,  Stanford  and  Caltech.  He  retired  from  Bell  Labs  in 
1979  to  become  a  professor  of  applied  physics  at  Stanford.  Today, 
as  an  emeritus  professor,  he  says  he  tries  to  instill  in  his  students 
the  same  love  of  discovery  and  fascination  for  technology  that  has 
driven  him  since  that  summer  day  more  than  60  years  ago  when  he 
first  heard  those  strange  and  wonderful  tales  about  radio. 


Spring  1992 


Listening  to  Screaming 
Infant  Microbubbles 


Herman  Med  win,  center,  and  fellow  professor  O.B.  Wilson,  left,  in  1990  with  Rear  Admiral  Richard 
Pittenger,  the  "oceanographer  of  the  Navy."  Pittenger  had  been  Medwin's  student  25  years  earlier. 


I  f  a  raindrop  falls  in  the  ocean  and  no  one  is  around  to  hear  it, 
I    does  it  make  a  sound?  The  answer  is  yes,  according  to  Herman 
I    Medwin  '41,  professor  of  physics  at  the  Naval  Postgraduate 
JL  School  in  Monterey,  Calif.  The  sound,  he  notes,  contains  a 
wealth  of  information  that  can  help  scientists  gain  a  better  under- 
standing of  such  phenomena  as  weather,  climatological  change  and 
global  warming. 

Medwin  is  a  pioneer  in  the  brand  new  field  of  acoustical  ocean- 
ography, an  outgrowth  of  underwater  acoustics.  While  underwater 
acoustics,  a  science  created  in  the  wake  of  the  Titanic  disaster  of 
1912,  uses  natural  sound  and  sound  generated  by  manmade  devices 
to  locate  objects,  such  as  ships,  submarines  or  icebergs,  in  or  on  the 
water,  acoustical  oceanography  uses  the  characteristics  of  sound 
propagation  and  scattering  in  water  to  learn  about  the  ocean  itself. 

Over  the  last  decade  or  so,  acoustical  oceanographers  have  found 
ways  to  use  sound  propagation  to  answer  a  wide  range  of  questions. 
For  example,  using  techniques  such  as  acoustical  tomography, 
doppler  sonar  and  side-scan  sonar,  acoustical  oceanographers  can 
measure  the  roughness  of  the  ocean  surface,  study  the  characteris- 
tics of  sediments  on  the  sea  floor,  and  measure  the  drift  velocity  of 
sediment  carried  along  by  ocean  currents.  By  scattering  sound  off 
the  air-filled  swim  bladders  of  marine  organisms,  they  can  track  the 
migrations  of  fish  and  obtain  counts  of  plankton  and  nekton  far  more 
accurately  than  with  conventional  methods. 

In  recent  years,  a  major  focus  of  acoustical  oceanography  has 
been  microbubbles — microscopic  spheres  of  air  generated  by  break- 
ing waves  and  raindrops.  Until  the  mid-1960s,  when  Medwin  first 


observed  them,  many  scientists  thought  microbubbles  could  not 
exist  in  the  ocean. 

"Physicists  had  shown  that  a  bubble  will  not  last  in  a  beaker  of 
clean  water,"  Medwin  says.  "Either  the  bubble  pops  to  the  surface 
and  bursts,  or  the  air  gets  squeezed  out  of  it  in  just  a  few  seconds.  So 
the  weight  of  evidence  from  the  laboratory  was  that  bubbles  couldn't 
persist  in  the  sea." 

But  Medwin  knew  these  invisible  bubbles  had  to  be  there.  In  1964 
he  and  fellow  acoustician  Clarence  S.  Clay,  with  whom  he  later  wrote 
Acoustical  Oceanography,  the  standard  textbook  in  the  field,  postu- 
lated that  there  must  be  bubbles  under  a  rough  sea  surface.  His  mea- 
surements showed  that  the  many  millions  of  bubbles  generated  by 
breaking  waves  persisted  for  long  periods  as  bubble  clouds  that 
could  be  found  as  deep  as  30  meters  below  the  sea  surface. 

Medwin  soon  went  back  to  sea  with  a  laboratory  device  consist- 
ing of  a  sound  source  and  a  reflector  separated  by  about  a  meter. 
After  lowering  the  device  into  the  water,  he  generated  a  burst  of 
sound  and  observed  it  as  it  bounced  back  and  forth  between  the 
sound  source  and  the  reflector. 

Laboratory  work  and  theory  had  shown  that  the  frequency  of 
sound  absorbed  by  bubbles  is  directly  related  to  their  size — the 
larger  the  bubble  the  lower  the  frequency  it  absorbs — so,  by  measur- 
ing sound  absorption  over  a  wide  range  of  frequencies,  Medwin  was 
able  to  make  precise  counts  of  the  numbers  of  microbubbles  of  dif- 
ferent sizes.  "We  found  huge  amounts  of  bubbles — just  as  we  had 
predicted,"  Medwin  says,  "with  radii  ranging  from  20  to  200  microns." 

What  makes  it  possible  for  the  bubbles  to  persist,  Medwin  says,  is 


WPI  Journal 


This  plot  shows  the  oscillating  pattern  of  the  sound 
produced  by  a  "screaming  infant  microbubble."  This 
pattern  lets  scientists  identify  the  size  of  the  raindrop 
that  produced  the  bubble. 


small  particles  of  plankton,  bacteria  and  dirt  that  adhere  to  their  sur- 
faces, preventing  the  air  from  being  squeezed  into  the  water.  "In  fact, 
bubbles  are  excellent  scavengers,"  he  says.  "They  ultimately  drag 
this  material  to  the  surface,  where  it  is  deposited.  Just  as  raindrops 
help  to  clear  the  atmosphere,  bubbles  help  cleanse  the  ocean." 

The  junk  that  enables  microbubbles  to  persist  also  made  it  diffi- 
cult for  optical  scientists  to  verify  Medwin's  results  for  many  years. 
Not  all  of  the  dirty  bubbles  generally  show  up  in  photographs,  so 
most  published  counts  were  significantly  lower  than  Medwin's  until 
just  a  few  years  ago,  when  more  sophisticated  optical  techniques — 
including  one  system  that  uses  a  laser  to  count  the  bubbles — be- 
came available. 

When  he  first  observed  the  bubbles  more  than  25  years  ago, 
Medwin  says  he  had  no  idea  how  useful  they  would  become  in  the 
study  of  ocean  phenomena.  Part  of  their  utility  stems  from  their  ten- 
dency to  oscillate  violently  for  several  milliseconds  after  they  are 
generated,  emitting  a  loud,  high-pitched  sound.  These  "screaming  in- 
fant microbubbles,"  as  Medwin  dubbed  them,  are  like  radio  transmit- 
ters, sending  out  brief  messages  about  the  waves  or  raindrops  that 
created  them. 

In  recent  years  Medwin  has  made  new  measurements  of  micro- 
bubbles  in  the  field,  including  measurements  taken  closer  to  the 
surface  than  any  observations  made  before,  and  at  lower  frequencies 
than  ever  before.  Using  an  85-foot-high  drop  tower  fashioned  from 
a  service  shaft  adjacent  to  his  laboratory  in  Monterey,  he  has  also 
begun  observing  how  raindrops  create  microbubbles. 

The  measurements  show  that  raindrops  produce  microbubbles 
in  sizes  proportional  to  their  own  size — in  other  words,  large  drops 
create  large  bubbles  and  vice  versa.  Since  each  bubble  size  has  its 
own  characteristic  sound  spectrum,  the  sound  created  by  a  micro- 
bubble  is  a  precise  indicator  of  the  size  of  the  drop  that  created  it, 
Medwin  says. 

"This  relationship  enables  you  to  dissect  underwater  sound.  If 
you  listen  underwater  when  it's  raining,  you'll  hear  a  tremendous 
roar,  which  is  caused  by  the  microbubbles.  It  sounds  like  a  god-awful 
mess,  but  if  you  do  a  spectral  analysis  it  turns  out  that  different  parts 
of  the  sound  spectrum  are  caused  by  drops  of  different  diameters.  So 
you  can  tell  the  kind  and  quantity  of  rain  that  is  falling  and,  by  infer- 
ence, the  type  of  cloud  cover." 

Medwin  has  applied  for  a  patent  for  this  technique.  He  says  he  en- 
visions a  network  of  sonobuoys  spanning  the  Pacific  Ocean  record- 
ing the  sound  of  rainfall  across  a  vast  expanse  of  water  for  which 


JANET  WOODCOCK 


such  data  is  sparse.  More  accurate  data  about  rainfall  over  the 
oceans  will  help  improve  weather  forecasts  and  enable  scientists 
to  create  better  models  of  the  Earth's  climate. 

A  better  understanding  of  rainfall  patterns  over  the  ocean  may 
also  lead  to  a  better  appreciation  of  global  warming,  Medwin  says. 
The  oceans  are  important  sinks  for  carbon  dioxide,  the  gas  respon- 
sible for  the  greenhouse  effect  that  causes  atmospheric  warming. 
Like  other  atmospheric  gases,  CO2  mixes  with  ocean  water  when  rain 
and  waves  create  bubbles.  But  without  better  data  on  oceanic  rain- 
fall, it  is  difficult  to  say  how  much  CO2  is  making  its  way  into  the  sea. 

Studying  the  ocean  was  far  from  Medwin's  mind  when  he  earned 
his  B.S.  in  physics  from  WPI  in  1941.  After  working  as  a  weather 
observer  for  the  U.S.  Air  Force  in  Europe  during  World  War  II,  he 
earned  his  Ph.D.  in  physics  at  UCLA.  At  that  time,  the  university  ran 
one  of  the  foremost  programs  in  acoustics,  a  subject  that  had  long 
fascinated  Medwin  because  of  his  love  for  the  violin.  (As  a  high 
school  student,  he  was  voted  the  best  violinist  in  his  hometown 
of  Holyoke,  Mass.) 


8 


Spring  1992 


At  his  50th  Reunion  in  1991, 
Medwin,  who  has  played  the 
violin  most  of  his  life,  was  able 
to  perform  with  the  Medwin  String 
Ensemble,  which  he  established 
through  a  gift  in  1987. 


He  taught  at  Los  Angeles  City  College  for  six  years  and  continued 
the  work  in  nonlinear  acoustics  he  had  begun  as  a  graduate  student. 
He  then  worked  briefly  for  an  acoustical  engineering  firm,  where  he 
analyzed  the  noise  of  jet  engines  and  wind  tunnels.  He  also  designed 
the  ventilating  towers  for  the  Callahan  Tunnel  under  Boston  Harbor, 
assuring  that  the  fans  that  pump  car  exhaust  out  of  the  tunnel  would 
not  disturb  the  surrounding  neighborhoods. 

In  1954,  deciding  he  preferred  teaching  to  consulting,  he  joined 
the  faculty  of  the  Naval  Postgraduate  School,  where  he  has  been 
ever  since.  "I  knew  nothing  about  the  ocean  then,"  he  says,  "but  it 
was  required  that  one  teach  courses  in  underwater  acoustics  be- 
cause the  Navy  operates  in  the  ocean  and  acoustics  is  how  you  find 
submarines." 

Since  then  he  has  become  one  of  the  foremost  researchers  in  his 
field.  A  recipient  of  WPI's  Robert  H.  Goddard  '08  Alumni  Award  for 
Professional  Achievement  and  the  Sigma  Xi  Distinguished  Research 
Award  from  the  Naval  Postgraduate  School,  he  is  a  fellow  and  presi- 
dent-elect of  the  Acoustical  Society  of  America.  And  he  is  the  author 


of  more  than  100  papers  in  scientific  journals  and  holds  several 
patents  in  acoustical  oceanography. 

When  he  is  not  working  with  students  or  writing  up  his  latest 
research  results,  Medwin  runs  a  consulting  firm,  Ocean  Acoustics 
Associates  in  Pebble  Beach.  He  also  continues  to  indulge  his  love 
of  music  by  playing  violin  with  a  string  quartet  every  week.  In  1987 
Medwin,  who  performed  with  the  Worcester  Symphony  Orchestra 
while  he  was  a  WPI  student,  gave  WPI  a  gift  with  which  it  established 
the  Medwin  String  Ensemble;  he  later  provided  another  grant  to 
create  scholarships  for  WPI  students  who  play  string  instruments. 

"My  capabilities  never  showed  at  WPI,"  he  says,  "at  least  not  by 
the  conventional  measures  used  then.  But  there  are  other  measures 
that  are  awfully  important,  and  these  include  tenacity  and  imagina- 
tion. It  takes  tenacity  to  study  a  string  instrument  and  stick  with  it, 
and  one  needs  imagination  to  perform  and  interpret  music  well.  A 
scientist  also  needs  those  characteristics  to  be  successful,  but  in 
reverse  order— imagination  to  develop  an  idea  and  tenacity  to 
see  it  through." 


WPI  Journal 


Making  Photography  Simple 
Took  Complex  Engineering 


Edwin  Land,  inventor  of  the  Land  Camera  and  founder  of 
Polaroid  Corp.,  believed  that  the  true  value  of  a  product 
could  never  be  adequately  measured  by  the  cold,  hard 
numbers  of  a  corporate  balance  sheet.  Instead,  the  worth 
of  a  piece  of  engineering,  like  the  worth  of  a  work  of  art,  was  in  the 
elegance  of  its  design  and  in  the  way  it  fulfilled  the  goals  of  its  creator. 
"The  bottom  line,"  he  once  wrote,  "is  in  heaven." 

As  he  looks  back  on  26  years  as  one  of  Polaroid's  chief  designers, 
John  P.  Burgarella  '50  seems  to  embody  that  creative  spirit.  Describ- 
ing the  intricate  electronic  mechanisms  and  the  complex  circuits  he 
designed  for  Polaroid  cameras  and  the  revolution  in  instant  photog- 
raphy he  helped  set  in  motion,  what  he  remembers  most  is  the 
beauty  of  the  engineering  itself  and  how  his  carefully  crafted  and 
tested  electronic  designs  helped  meet  one  fundamental  goal — 
making  photography  a  snap  for  millions  of  people  the  world  over. 
Burgarella,  who  received  a  bachelor's  and  a  master's  degree  in 
electrical  engineering  from  WPI,  the  latter  in  1952,  joined  Polaroid 
in  1960  after  working  for  eight  years  for  Doelcam/Honeywell  Corp. 
in  Newton,  Mass.  While  there  he  developed  a  DC  amplifier  that  em- 
ployed a  magnetic  modulator  with  no  moving  parts.  Burgarella 
earned  the  first  three  of  his  25  lifetime  patents  for  the  design. 

His  first  assignment  at  Polaroid  was  designing  a  computer-con- 
trolled system  for  a  machine  that  made  pack  film,  a  recent  Polaroid 
innovation.  In  the  summer  of  1960  Polaroid  introduced  the  Model  900, 
the  earliest  Land  camera  with  an  electrically  controlled  exposure 
system.  The  camera  was  a  "mechanical  nightmare,"  Burgarella  says. 
Clearly,  Polaroid  needed  a  new  concept. 

The  new  concept  was  the  Model  100,  a  design  born  in  Polaroid's 
Applied  Physics  Laboratory.  It  would  have  a  fixed-aperture  lens  and 
a  shutter  controlled  by  an  electromagnet  and  an  electronic  timer. 
When  the  shutter  button  was  pressed,  the 
electronic  timer  and  the  magnet  (which 
:  closing,  guillotine-type 
shutter 


Opposite,  John  Burgarella  with  some  of  the  revolution- 
ary cameras  he  helped  design  for  Polaroid,  including  the 
Model  1 00,  above,  the  first  successful  electronic  camera, 
and  the  SX-70,  below,  the  first  fully  automated  camera. 

blade  in  place)  were  energized.  At  the  same  time,  the  opening  shutter 
blade  would  be  released,  and  a  capacitor  that  timed  the  exposure 
would  be  unshorted. 

A  photocell  would  regulate  the  amount  of  current  delivered  to  the 
timing  capacitor.  The  more  light  falling  on  the  cell,  the  larger  the  cur- 
rent to  the  capacitor.  The  greater  the  current,  the  faster  the  capaci- 
tor would  become  charged  and  trigger  a  circuit  that  shut  off  the 
magnet,  releasing  the  closing  blade.  The  design  ensured  that  the 
exposure  time  would  be  inversely  proportional  to  the  brightness 
of  the  scene  the  photographer  was  attempting  to  capture. 

Because  of  his  experience  with  magnetic  devices,  Burgarella  was 
asked  to  design  the  electromagnet  and  the  keeper,  a  small  piece  of 
metal  attached  to  the  shutter  blade  that  would  hold  it  firmly  to  the 
magnet.  The  assignment  marked  the  start  of  months  of  design  and 
experimental  work  that  would  ultimately  fill  dozens  of  note- 
books with  drawings,  graphs,  laboratory  results  and 
Polaroid  photographs. 

The  tiny  u-shaped  magnet  that  Burgarella  de- 
signed could  lift  more  than  three-fourths  of  a  pound 
with  a  current  of  just  two-hundredths  of  an  ampere.  The 
keeper  was  designed  to  be  as  light  as  possible,  so  as 
not  to  slow  the  shutter.  Because  precision  timing  of 
the  shutter  was  critical  to  obtaining  a  correct  expo- 
sure, Burgarella  had  to  find  a  way  to  make  the  mag- 
net release  the  keeper  as  quickly  and  as  reliably 
as  possible. 

To  do  that,  he  designed  a  special  circuit  that 

quickly  quenched  the  magnet.  He  also  gave  the 

keeper  a  curved  face  so  only  a  small  section  of 


10 


Spring  1992 


the  metal  bar  made  contact  with  the 
poles  of  the  magnet.  Since  the  air 
around  the  keeper  was  far  less  perme- 
able to  magnetic  flux  than  the  metal 
of  the  keeper  itself,  this  curvature 
created  what  Burgarella  calls  a  con- 
trolled air-gap  that  enabled  the  keeper      %■ 
to  break  away  more  quickly  than  if  its 
entire  face  had  touched  the  magnet.  The 
design  allowed  precise  exposures  as  short  as  1/1, 200th  of  a  second. 

The  Model  100  was  the  first  camera  with  an  automatic  flash.  When 
a  flashbulb  unit  was  plugged  into  the  shutter,  it  activated  a  circuit  that 
selected  a  shutter  speed  so  that  just  the  right  amount  of  light  from  the 
bulb  reached  the  film.  "A  flashbulb  output  peaks  at  about  12  millisec- 
onds," Burgarella  says.  "But  if  your  subject  is  only  a  few  feet  away, 
you  may  need  just  l/16th  of  the  total  output— about  4  milliseconds 
worth."  To  get  such  precise  "chunks"  of  light,  the  closing  of  the  shut- 
ter had  to  be  carefully  synchronized  with  the  firing  of  the  bulb. 

While  most  of  Burgarella's  contributions  to  the  Model  100  were  to 
its  electronic  systems,  he  also  did  a  careful  mechanical  analysis  of  the 
shutter  to  make  sure  the  jolts  caused  by  its  opening  and  closing  would 
not  affect  the  operation  of  his  magnet.  This  work  resulted  in  several 
design  changes,  including  a  shock-absorbing  bumper  for  the  shutter. 
He  also  designed  equipment  to  test  his  designs,  helped  set  up  the 
assembly  line  for  the  electronic  systems  at  Texas  Instruments,  and 
designed  test  equipment  for  the  shutter  assembly  line  at  Timex. 

The  electronic  systems  developed  for  the  Model  100  became 
the  basis  for  most  of  the  electronic  cameras  marketed  by  Polaroid  in 
succeeding  years.  By  1968  Burgarella  had  become  manager  of  a  small 
department.  Like  many  Polaroid  managers,  he  was  aware  that  a  small 
design  team  was  working  in  carefully  guarded  secrecy  on  a  revolu- 
tionary new  camera  system.  "There  were  no  electronics  people  in  the 
group  then,"  Burgarella  says,  "so  they  would  occasionally  come  down 
and  ask  me  questions  without  divulging  any  secrets.  Eventually  they 
said,  'We  can't  get  along  without  this  guy." 

Burgarella  gave  up  his  department  and  became  an  individual  con- 
tributor to  what  would  become  the  SX-70,  a  fully  automated  single- 
lens  reflex  camera  with  a  new  type  of  film  that  developed  right  before 
the  photographer's  eyes. 

The  initial  design  called  for  electromagnets  to  operate  the  shutter, 
as  they  had  in  the  Model  100.  But  after  more  than  two  years  of  work  in 
that  direction,  the  concept  had  to  be  abandoned  because  the  single- 
lens  reflex  design  required  multiple  operations  of  the  shutter  to 
accommodate  both  viewing  the  scene  and  exposing  the  negative. 

Land  decided  to  replace  the  magnets  with  solenoids.  "This  was 
a  traumatic  period  for  me  because  my  wife  had  just  been  diagnosed 
with  multiple  sclerosis,"  Burgarella  says.  "Dr.  Land  knew  1  didn't  like 
the  idea  of  the  solenoid  shutter,  but  he  wanted  me  to  go  along  with  it. 
He  called  me  into  his  office  and  for  the  first  20  minutes  all  we  talked 
about  was  my  wife.  He  wanted  to  know  what  was  going  on  and  what 
Polaroid  could  do  to  help.  It  was  only  after  that  that  he  told  me  why 
he  had  really  brought  me  in  there.  That's  the  kind  of  man  Land  was." 


The  SX-70  had  several  modes  of  operation.  For  example,  when 
the  film  pack  was  inserted,  the  camera  had  to  eject  the  film  cover. 
Taking  a  flash  photo  required  the  camera  to  quickly  (within  a  mil- 
lionth of  a  second)  determine  which  bulb  in  the  flash  bar  was  the 
next  to  be  fired. 

The  most  complicated  mode  was  normal  picture  taking  (see 
diagram,  page  10).  To  take  a  photo,  the  camera  had  to  close  the 
shutter,  release  a  spring-driven,  double-sided  mirror  that  covered 
the  film  pack,  reopen  the  shutter  to  let  light  bounce  off  the  mirror 
onto  the  negative,  close  the  shutter,  bring  the  mirror  back  down, 
process  and  eject  the  exposed  print,  and  finally,  open  the  shutter 
again  for  viewing. 

Each  mode  of  operation  was  controlled  by  an  integrated  circuit. 
While  Burgarella  designed  the  exposure-control  circuits  for  all  of  the 
cameras  before  the  SX-70,  he  says  Polaroid  did  not  have  the  expertise 
to  create  these  complicated  silicon  chips.  Instead,  his  team  devel- 
oped block  diagrams  and  logic  tables  that  showed  exactly  what  the 
circuits  had  to  do  and  when  each  event  must  take  place.  The  chips 
were  designed  by  Texas  Instruments  and  Fairchild  Semiconductor. 

Power  for  the  camera  was  provided  by  a  custom-designed  wafer- 
thin  battery  included  in  each  film  pack.  Throughout  the  design  phase, 
Burgarella  held  the  unofficial  title  of  "power  czar,"  as  it  was  his  re- 
sponsibility to  make  sure  that  the  various  devices  that  consumed 
power — from  the  solenoids,  to  the  motor  that  ejected  the  film,  to 
the  flash  bar — stayed  within  a  maximum  power  budget. 

Burgarella's  work  on  Polaroid  cameras  earned  him  a  number 
of  awards  and  honors.  In  1964,  as  a  member  of  the  small  team  that 
designed  the  Model  100,  he  received  the  Master  Design  Award  from 
Product  Engineering  magazine.  In  1984,  WPI  awarded  him  the  Robert 
H.  Goddard  '08  Award  for  Professional  Achievement,  and  he  is  cur- 
rently a  member  of  the  Institute's  Electrical  Engineering  Advisory 
Committee.  In  1981,  Polaroid  conferred  on  him  the  honor  of  senior 
engineering  fellow,  a  title  that  had  previously  been  bestowed  on  just 
two  other  Polaroid  engineers. 

That  title  recognized  more  than  two  decades  of  fundamental 
contributions  to  technology  that  literally  created  the  worldwide 
electronic  camera  industry  and  became  the  foundation  for  the 
success  Polaroid  has  realized  over  the  past  three  decades. 

It  was  also  a  tribute  to  a  job  that  took  Burgarella  far  beyond  the 
traditional  role  of  inventor.  "There  was  a  lot  more  to  my  job  than  you 
might  think,"  he  says.  "1  had  to  be  a  manufacturing  engineer,  a  test 
equipment  engineer,  a  mechanical  engineer,  a  manager  and,  at  times, 
a  diplomat.  I  could  never  be  just  an  inventor." 


WPI  Journal 


11 


Unraveling  the  Genetic 
Code  for  What  Ails  Us 


For  many  years,  scientists  have  known  that  clues  to  the 
causes  of  many  human  ailments  are  encoded  in  the  enor- 
mously complex  blueprint  of  the  human  genome.  But  it  has 
only  been  within  the  past  two  decades  that  it  has  been  pos- 
sible to  begin  unlocking  these  secrets  with  the  tools  of  recombinant 
DNA  technology. 

Armed  with  this  newfound  knowledge,  doctors  can  now  predict 
with  great  precision  who  may  develop  an  ever-growing  list  of  disor- 
ders, such  as  the  fragile  X  syndrome,  Duchene  muscular  dystrophy 
and  cystic  fibrosis,  and  who  may  pass  these  inherited  diseases  on  to 
their  children.  Research  in  this  new  field,  called  molecular  genetics, 
has  provided  exciting  new  approaches  to  identifying  the  causes  of 
human  disease  and  offers  hope  that  someday  it  may  be  possible  to 
treat — and  perhaps  prevent — many  human  ailments. 

For  Stephen  N.  Thibodeau  74,  the  revolution  in  medical  genetics 
arrived  at  just  the  right  time.  Having  long  been  interested  in  medical 
research,  he  studied  chemistry  at  WP1  and  as  a  senior  received  a 
$5,000  grant  from  Saint  Vincent  Hospital  in  Worcester  to  develop  an 
antero-venous  shunt  for  use  in  intensive  care  patients.  He  earned  his 
Ph.D.  in  biochemistry  at  the  University  of  Washington  in  Seattle  and 
completed  a  postdoctoral  fellowship  in  clinical  chemistry  at  the 
Mayo  Clinic  in  Rochester,  Minn. 

Those  were  the  years  when  the  power  of  recombinant  DNA 
techniques  was  just  being  realized.  The  ability  to  literally  chop  up 
strands  of  DNA  and  identify  the  pieces,  or  genes,  responsible  for 
specific  disorders  would  soon  revolutionize  the  study  of  medicine. 

In  1981,  when  Thibodeau  became  director  of  clinical  chemistry  at 
The  Children's  Hospital  in  Denver,  Colo.,  he  joined  the  revolution.  His 
first  project  was  to  help  locate  the  gene  responsible  for  the  fragile  X 
syndrome,  a  condition  that  produces  moderate  to  severe  mental 
retardation  in  80  percent  of  boys  who  have  fragile  X  and  less  severe 
symptoms  in  about  half  of  carrier  girls. 

Along  with  a  number  of  others,  Thibodeau  used  linkage  analysis 
to  close  in  on  the  location  of  the  gene.  Linkage  analysis  takes  advan- 
tage of  a  phenomenon  called  crossing  over,  which  occurs  during 
meiosis,  the  type  of  cell  division  that  produces  sex  cells — eggs  or 
sperm.  Humans  have  24  different  types  of  chromosomes.  Two,  the 
X  and  the  Y,  determine  gender  and  are  called  the  sex  chromosomes 
(females  have  two  Xs;  males  have  an  X  and  a  Y).  Normal  human  body 
cells  have  two  copies  of  each  of  the  remaining  22  chromosomes. 

During  meiosis,  the  two  members  of  each  chromosome  type  link 
up  to  form  a  pair.  It  is  while  the  chromosomes  are  paired  that  cross- 
ing over  occurs.  A  break  develops  in  the  same  spot  on  each  chromo- 
some and  the  broken  ends  cross  over  and  combine  to  form  two 
somewhat  different  chromosomes.  To  understand  how  this  works, 
imagine  two  ropes — one  red  and  one  blue.  Both  ropes  are  cut  in  the 
identical  spot  and  the  ends  are  recombined  so  there  are  now  two 
ropes,  each  of  which  is  partly  red  and  partly  blue. 

Each  chromosome  is  actually  a  long  string  of  genes.  The  farther 
apart  two  genes  are  on  this  string,  the  more  likely  it  will  be  that  any 
one  break  will  occur  between  them.  When  two  genes  are  so  close 


Stephen  Thibodeau  is  using  the  latest  advances 
in  recombinant  DNA  technology  to  diagnose 
genetic  disorders  and  chart  the  success  of 
cancer  treatments. 

that  they  are  virtually  never  separated  by  chromosome  breaks,  they 
are  said  to  be  linked.  To  locate  a  gene,  scientists  search  for  mark- 
ers— sections  of  DNA  with  known  locations — that  are  linked  to  the 
gene  for  which  they  are  searching. 

In  Thibodeau's  laboratory,  linkage  analysis,  using  several  pos- 
sible markers,  was  performed  on  DNA  collected  from  the  members 
of  30  families  that  have  a  large  number  of  individuals  affected  by 
fragile  X.  These  studies  helped  determine  which  markers  provide 
a  reliable  means  of  identifying  individuals  with  the  gene,  and  also 
helped  build  a  genetic  map  of  the  region  around  the  gene. 

"Once  you've  placed  a  genetic  locus  next  to  a  known  marker,  the 
next  step  is  to  characterize  that  region  in  more  detail,"  he  says.  As 
the  genetic  map  for  the  region  becomes  clearer,  scientists  look  for 
candidate  genes  and  then  hone  in  on  the  one  actually  associated 
with  the  disease.  "There  are  a  number  of  groups,  including  ours, 
that  are  using  this  approach  to  look  at  a  host  of  other  disorders." 

Once  a  gene  is  isolated,  Thibodeau  says,  scientists  can  begin 
to  understand  the  underlying  cause  of  the  disease  and  the  specific 
mutations — substitutions,  deletions  or  insertions  in  the  genetic 
code — that  can  occur  within  it. 

Since  1987  Thibodeau  has  been  director  of  the  Molecular  Genet- 
ics Laboratory  at  the  Mayo  Clinic.  In  that  post  he  and  his  colleagues 
use  the  results  of  research  similar  to  the  fragile  X  project  in  one  of 
three  primary  ways:  to  identify  people  who  are  carriers  of  genetic 
disorders,  but  who  exhibit  no  symptoms  themselves;  to  diagnose, 
while  they  are  still  well,  people  who  carry  genes  for  disorders  that 


12 


Spring  1992 


COURTESY  OF  MAYO  CLINIC 


do  not  appear  until  adulthood  or  people  who  have  a  genetic  predis- 
position to  developing  cancer  and  other  illnesses;  and  to  spot  seri- 
ous genetic  disorders  prenatally. 

"Recessive  disorders,  like  cystic  fibrosis  and  muscular  dystrophy, 
are  good  examples  of  diseases  for  which  carrier  detection  is  impor- 
tant," Thibodeau  says.  "We  may  see  a  patient  who  has  a  sibling  af- 
fected with  muscular  dystrophy.  She  is  thinking  of  getting  married 
and  wants  to  know  whether  she  is  a  carrier  for  the  gene,  and  there- 
fore what  her  chances  are  of  having  a  child  affected  with  the  same 
disease." 

One  adult  onset  disorder  that  Thibodeau  has  been  studying  is 
familial  adenomatous  polyposis  or  FAP,  an  inherited  predisposition 
to  colon  cancer  that  affects  one  in  every  5,000  Americans.  It  is  char- 
acterized by  the  early  onset  of  colon  polyps  (affected  individuals  can 
develop  several  hundred  to  several  thousand  polyps).  If  they  do  not 
receive  regular  checkups  to  look  for  polyps,  virtually  all  patients  with 
the  FAP  gene  will  develop  colon  cancer  and  die  from  their  disease. 
Recently,  several  groups  of  investigators  have  characterized  the  gene 
associated  with  FAP  and  Thibodeau's  lab  has  developed  a  test  to 
detect  individuals  who  carry  the  specific  mutations  that  are  believed 
to  cause  the  disorder. 

Thibodeau  has  also  been  looking  for  the  molecular  genetic 
changes  that  are  responsible  for  sporadic  colon  cancer.  Although 
there  is  no  obvious  hereditary  pattern  for  the  sporadic  form  of  colo- 
rectal cancer,  Thibodeau  says  there  is  evidence  that  in  most  cases, 
individuals  who  have  colorectal  cancer  may  have  a  genetic  predis- 
position to  developing  the  disease.  In  fact,  it  now  appears  that  a 
number  of  genes  are  involved  in  the  process  of  tumor  formation 
in  colon  cancer. 

"The  major  part  of  our  research," 
he  says,  "involves  taking  a  close  look  at 
these  chromosomes  to  see  if  we  can  find 
the  genes  that  might  be  implicated  in 
the  process  of  developing  cancer." 
Thibodeau  says  each  altered  gene  may 
give  a  cell  a  specific  advantage  as  it 
progresses  from  a  normal  cell  to  a 
polyp  (a  benign  tumor)  to  a  carci- 
noma to  a  deadly  metastatic  lesion. 

The  genetic  tests  Thibodeau  hopes 
to  develop  for  colon  cancer  will  enable 
doctors  to  spot  individuals  who  may 
have  a  strong  tendency  to  develop  the 
disease  and  also  gain  insight  into  how  to 
distinguish  the  more  aggressive  tumors 
from  other  types.  "The  process  involved 
in  cancer  formation  is  more  complicated 
than  the  other  genetic  disorders  we  deal 
with  and  typically  involves  abnormali- 
ties in  multiple  genes,"  he  says.  "The 
clinical  implications  are  enormous,  how- 
ever, given  the  large  number  of  individu- 
als affected  by  cancer  each  year." 

In  addition  to  identifying  individuals 
who  possess  genetic  disorders,  the  tech- 
niques Thibodeau  uses  in  his  laboratory 
can  also  help  measure  the  success  of 
treatments  for  specific  diseases,  espe- 
cially cancers.  One  example  is  a  type  of 


Laurie  Doud  prepares  to  analyze  a  DNA  sample 
in  the  Molecular  Genetics  Laboratory  at  the 
Mayo  Clinic  in  Rochester,  Minn. 


leukemia  known  as  chronic  myelocytic  leukemia  or  CML.  This  dis- 
ease is  thought  to  be  caused  by  a  translocation  in  which  segments 
of  chromosome  9  and  chromosome  22  trade  places. 

The  switch  brings  a  proto-oncogene — a  gene  that  can  promote 
the  growth  of  cancer  cells — from  chromosome  9  into  proximity  with 
the  so-called  bcr  gene  on  chromosome  22.  Together  they  form  the 
code  for  a  protein  that  appears  to  give  leukemia  cells  a  selective 
advantage.  "It  turns  out  that  virtually  100  percent  of  patients  with 
CML  have  the  9-22  translocation,  which  is  known  as  the  Philadelphia 
chromosome,"  Thibodeau  says. 

The  9-22  translocation  is  typically  identified  cytogenetically 
(that  is,  by  staining  the  chromosomes  and  examining  them  under 
the  microscope),  though  Thibodeau  says  molecular  genetic  tech- 
niques can  spot  the  approximately  5  percent  of  CML  cases  that 
evade  this  type  of  analysis.  More  important,  though,  because  these 
techniques  can  detect  the  presence  of  cells  bearing  the  Philadelphia 
chromosome  with  great  sensitivity — often  as  accurately  as  one  cell  in 
one  million — they  can  serve  as  ideal  warning  systems  for  a  relapse  of 
CML  after  treatment. 

The  laboratory  has  also  developed  techniques  for  monitoring 
the  success  of  bone  marrow  transplants,  a  treatment  sometimes 
employed  for  leukemia— a  cancer  of  the  white  blood  cells  that  origi- 
nates in  the  marrow.  In  this  type  of  treatment,  a  recipient's  bone  mar- 
row is  removed  and  replaced  with  marrow  from  a  carefully  selected 
donor.  Before  the  transplant,  DNA  from  the  recipient  and  the  donor 
are  analyzed — a  process  called  DNA  fingerprinting. 

"Following  the  engraftment  process,  we  look  to  see  which  cells 
are  present,"  Thibodeau  says.  "We  should  see  only  cells  with  the 
donor's  DNA  in  the  marrow.  If  we  see 
the  recipient's  cells,  then  presumably 
that  means  the  leukemia  is  beginning 
to  reappear." 

While  the  primary  focus  of 
Thibodeau's  research  is  to  characterize 
gene  abnormalities  and  find  ways  to 
diagnose  and  treat  individuals  with 
genetic  disorders  like  fragile  X  syn- 
drome and  colon  cancer,  he  acknowl- 
edges that  the  long-term  goal  of  the 
work  he  and  other  molecular  biologists 
are  doing  is  to  pave  the  way  for  such 
not-so-futuristic  techniques  as  gene 
therapy,  in  which  defective  genes  are 
actually  replaced  with  good  genes,  to 
keep  people  from  getting  diseases  in 
the  first  place. 

"Certainly,  once  we've  found  the 
gene  for  a  disease,  we  want  to  take  that 
one  step  further  and  find  out  how  to 
treat  and  prevent  the  disease,"  he  says. 
"There's  no  question  that  molecular 
biology  and  recombinant  DNA  tech- 
niques are  having  and  will  continue 
to  have  a  profound  impact  on  all  facets 
of  medicine.  However,  although  we 
have  made  tremendous  progress  in 
the  last  decade,  what  we  do  not  yet 
know  about  the  human  genome  is 
staggering." 


WPI  Journal 


13 


Pushing  the 
Software  Envelope 


I  n  his  1966  book,  Men,  Machines  and  Modern  Times,  Elting  E. 
I  Morrison  said,  "The  computer  is  no  better  than  its  program." 
I  Since  his  student  days  at  WPI,  Roger  J.  Heinen  73  has  been 
JL  creating  programs  that  have  helped  make  the  computers  they 
run  on  powerful,  versatile  and  innovative  tools — not  to  mention 
highly  successful  products. 

From  his  17-year  career  at  Digital  Equipment  Corp.,  where  he 
helped  develop  some  of  Digital's  most  critical  and  commercially 
successful  software  products,  to  his  position  today  as  the  head  of 
the  Macintosh  Software  Architecture  Division  at  Apple  Computer, 
Heinen  has  continually  found  himself  at  the  leading  edge  in  software 
development.  He  credits  much  of  his  success  in  the  rapidly  evolving 
world  of  computing  to  the  start  he  got  at  WPI. 

Heinen  was  one  of  the  first  students  to  earn  his  bachelor's  degree 
under  the  project-oriented  WPI  Plan.  For  his  Major  Qualifying  Project 
he  helped  develop  an  automated  class  scheduling  system.  "It  was 
classic  computer  science,"  he  remembers.  "We  worried  about  the 
science  of  it  and  we  didn't  step  back  and  ask  ourselves  how  hard  it 
was  going  to  be  to  implement  and  how  long  it  was  going  to  run  once 
it  was  started." 

While  a  student,  Heinen  worked  part  time  as  a  system  program- 
mer for  New  England  Telephone  Co.,  an  experience  that  helped  him 
land  a  job  after  graduation  as  a  programmer  in  Digital  Equipment's 
quality  assurance  division.  He  says  the  Plan  prepared  him  well  for 
working  at  the  major  computer  manufacturer. 

"Digital  was  especially  team-oriented  in  those  days,"  he  says.  "My 
project  experience  helped  me  to  fit  in  quickly  and  to  get  off  and  run- 
ning right  away.  It  was  as  if  I  arrived  an  already  experienced  engineer. 
That  project  experience  lives  with  me  today  in  my  whole  outlook 
about  engineering." 

One  of  Heinen's  early  projects  was  contributing  to  the  initial 
release  of  RSX-1 1M,  one  of  the  operating  systems  for  the  highly  suc- 
cessful PDP-11,  a  member  of  Digital's  original  family  of  minicomput- 
ers. Operating  systems  are  the  programs  that  tell  a  computer  how 
to  do  basic  functions,  like  write  data  to  files,  compile  and  run  appli- 
cation programs,  and  operate  peripheral  devices.  "RSX-1 1M  was  the 
primary  operating  system  for  the  PDP-11  from  1975  to  1980,"  Heinen 
says.  "It  was  what  made  Digital  great  in  those  days." 

Up  until  the  early  1970s,  Digital's  minicomputers  stood  alone- 
there  was  no  way  to  easily  move  data  back  and  forth  between 
them  or  to  get  them  to  work  together.  Heinen's  next  project  was 
called  DECnet,  an  early  attempt  to  create  a  networked  computer 
system.  "Our  goal  was  to  get  two  PDP-1  Is  to  talk  to  each  other  over 
a  wire;  this  was  a  non-trivial  job,"  Heinen  says.  "But  that  architec- 
ture has  stood  the  test  of  time.  A  lot  of  what  we  designed  and  built 
in  those  years  helped  make  Digital's  reputation  as  a  networking 
company." 

When  Digital  decided  to  introduce  the  VAX,  a  32-bit  computer 
designed  to  overcome  many  of  the  limitations  of  the  16-bit  PDP-11 
architecture,  Heinen,  who  had  developed  a  reputation  as  a  prolific 
software  writer,  was  asked  to  join  a  small  team  assigned  to  develop 


Roger  Heinen  has  been  a  pioneer  in  software  develop- 
ment since  his  early  days  as  a  programmer  at  Digital 
Equipment  Corp.  nearly  20  years  ago. 


the  VAX  operating  system,  VAX/VMS.  Developing  this  complicated 
software  package  proved  a  major  challenge,  though  convincing 
Digital  that  it  was  needed  would  prove  equally  taxing. 

"The  VAX  was  ahead  of  its  time — ahead  of  its  real  market  need," 
Heinen  says.  "In  1975,  when  the  project  got  off  the  ground,  few  at 
Digital  thought  they  would  ever  sell  one.  It  took  the  sheer  willpower 
of  the  management,  especially  Gordon  Bell,  to  propel  the  project  to 
completion."  First  introduced  in  1978,  the  VAX  and  VAX/VMS  proved 
wildly  successful  and  remain  the  heart  of  Digital  Equipment  Corp.'s 
business  today. 

After  the  VMS  project,  Heinen  decided  he  had  had  enough  of  op- 
erating systems  and  went  looking  for  a  new  challenge.  He  found  it  in 
compilers,  software  that  translates  a  program  written  in  a  high-level 
computer  language  into  instructions  a  computer  can  actually  ex- 
ecute. In  1977  he  joined  a  four-person  team  that  wrote  a  compiler  for 
PL/1,  a  language  widely  used  in  scientific  and  business  applications. 


14 


Spring  1992 


The  team  took  a  novel  approach  to  the  design  of  the  compiler, 
which  they  later  explained  in  a  book  on  compiler  engineering.  They 
created  a  "front  end"  that  interacted  with  the  programming  language 
and  a  "back  end"  that  generated  the  machine  language.  While  the 
front  end  would  work  only  with  PL/1,  the  back  end  was  designed  to  be 
language  independent,  which  meant  it  could  be  used  in  virtually  iden- 
tical form  in  compilers  built  to  translate  other  higher-level  languages. 
In  fact,  the  team  used  the  PL/1  back  end  to  write  a  compiler  for  the 
language  C. 

"While  no  one  had  ever  constructed  a  commercial  compiler  the 
way  we  did,  now  they  are  all  done  that  way,"  Heinen  says.  "There 
were  a  few  early  pioneers  before  us,  but  I  think  we  really  made  that 
way  of  building  compilers  a  commercial  success." 

In  the  early  1980s,  Digital  introduced  the  Micro  VAX,  a  minicom- 
puter that  uses  the  VAX  architecture.  Heinen  helped  develop  an  oper- 
ating system  for  the  MicroVAX  called  VAX/ELN,  the  first  commercial 
object-oriented  operating  system  (see  page  24  for  a  description 
of  object-oriented  programming). 

ELN  was  a  pioneer  in  the  field  of  distributed  operating 
systems,  which  meant  that  it  could  oversee  the  operation 
of  programs  that  ran  in  several  pieces  on  multiple  com- 
puters. "We  were  forced  to  push  the  edge  of  the  technol- 
ogy in  terms  of  how  we  could  develop  and  debug 
programs  that  might  be  running  on  multiple  machines," 
says  Heinen,  who  won  a  patent  for  his  work  on  the 
design  of  the  distributed  debugger. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  1980s,  Heinen  became  a 
corporate  consulting  engineer,  a  title  reserved  for  a  select 
group  of  senior  engineers  at  Digital,  and  was  eventually  named  to 
head  the  company's  DECWEST  Engineering  Group  in  Seattle,  which 
was  working  on  new  MicroVAX  developments. 

In  1990  he  decided  to  leave  Digital  to  join  Apple  Computer  and 
the  fast-paced  world  of  personal  computers.  As  head  of  the  Macin- 
tosh software  division,  he  oversees  a  1,000-person  operation  respon- 
sible for  Macintosh  system  software,  such  as  the  System  7.0  operating 
system  released  a  year  ago,  and  tools  for  Macintosh  software  devel- 
opers. The  division  also  provides  support,  including  technical 
advice,  documentation  and  marketing  assistance,  to  the  hundreds 
of  third-party  companies  that  write  application  packages  for  the 
Macintosh. 

Heinen  says  System  7.0  and  its  associated  software  (including  a 
new  multimedia  architecture)  will  be  the  heart  of  Apple  Computer's 
strategy  for  competing  against  industry  rival  Microsoft,  which  mar- 
kets the  Windows  operating  system  for  IBM-compatible  computers. 
Like  the  Macintosh  system  software,  Windows  is  a  graphical  user 
interface  in  which  users  manipulate  pictures  and  icons  instead  of 
typing  in  instructions. 

So  far,  Heinen  says,  Macintosh  is  more  than  holding  its  own.  "Over 
the  past  two  years  we've  seen  a  tremendous  increase  in  the  overall 
market  share  for  Macintosh  vs.  Windows  and  PCs.  We've  also  had  a 
tremendous  series  of  hit  software  products — we  actually  think  in 


terms  of  hit  products;  it's  a  very  funny  computer  business." 

While  Apple's  battle  with  Microsoft  represents  a  competition  for 
users  who  might  otherwise  choose  IBM-based  machines  over  the 
Macintosh,  the  company  is  also  cooperating  with  Big  Blue  on 
another  front.  In  an  historic  agreement  announced  last  year,  IBM 
and  Apple  will  share  technology  and  work  jointly  to  develop  a  new 
generation  of  software  products  that  will  run  on  either  company's 
machines,  forming  a  bridge  between  the  two  largest  sectors  of  the 
personal  computer  market. 

A  precursor  to  the  Apple-IBM  alliance  was  a  software  package 
called  Pink.  Developed  in  part  by  Heinen 's  division,  the  package 
allowed  IBM  programs  to  run  on  the  Mac.  The  Pink  development 
effort  has  evolved  into  Taligent,  a  company  supported  by  Apple  and 
IBM.  Another  jointly  sponsored  company,  Kaleida,  will  develop  inno- 
vative multimedia  applications.  "That  part  of  the  agreement  is  really 
focused  on  the  future,"  Heinen  says.  "The  object-oriented  software 
Taligent  is  developing  will  solve  problems  we  can  foresee  out  into 
the  late  1990s." 


Heinen's  division 
at  Apple  Computer 
helped  lay  the 
groundwork  for  an 
historic  alliance 
with  IBM. 


Heinen  says  the  Taligent  work  will  address  a  growing  problem 
with  programmer  productivity.  While  object-oriented  programming 
has  greatly  simplified  the  process  of  writing  complicated  programs, 
it  is  still  an  inefficient  and  time-consuming  process.  "Taligent  is  an 
attempt  to  leapfrog  evolution  and  make  a  quantum  improvement  in 
programmer  productivity,  something  substantially  farther  than  we 
can  go  on  an  evolutionary  path  with  today's  technology." 

While  Taligent  pushes  the  software  envelope,  Heinen  says  his 
Macintosh  software  division  is  trying  to  improve  the  graphical  inter- 
face that  has  been  the  Macintosh's  trademark  since  it  was  intro- 
duced in  the  early  1980s.  "Graphics  interfaces  were  a  big  step  back 
then,"  he  says.  "Now  we're  trying  to  take  them  to  the  next  plateau  by 
using  more  senses  than  just  sight.  For  example,  we've  demonstrated 
our  voice  recognition  software  because  we  really  believe  voice  recog- 
nition, if  done  properly,  can  add  tremendous  value  to  the  experience 
of  using  a  personal  computer." 

In  his  role  as  manager,  Heinen  says  he  no  longer  gets  to  do  much 
of  the  active  programming  that  makes  advances  like  these  possible. 
Still,  he  says  he  doesn't  miss  the  hands-on  involvement  of  his  former 
life.  "I'm  always  looking  for  a  challenge,  and  right  now  my  challenge 
in  leading  this  organization  is  bigger  that  the  challenge  of  writing 
some  particular  piece  of  software.  But  who  knows,  that  might  change 
someday." 


WPI  Journal 


15 


Helping  Out  When 
Gods  Materials  FaH 


Each  year  about  240,000  Ameri- 
cans have  surgery  to  replace 
their  diseased  or  damaged 
hips  and  knees  with  artificial 
prostheses.  The  implantation  of  these 
mechanical  devices,  a  type  of  operation 
first  performed  just  three  decades  ago, 
has  become  a  highly  successful  treat- 
ment for  severe  cases  of  osteoarthritis 
and  rheumatoid  arthritis,  dramatically 
reducing  the  pain  these  and  other  debili- 
tating joint  disorders  can  cause  and 
restoring  to  recipients  a  near-normal 
range  of  motion  and  activity. 

For  the  past  decade,  Joint  Medical 
Products  in  Stamford,  Conn.,  has  been  a 
leading  innovator  in  the  design  and  de- 
velopment of  knee  and  hip  replacements. 
Since  1984,  when  the  company  sold  its 
first  hip  prosthesis,  more  than  40,000  of 
the  devices  have  been  placed  in  patients. 
For  Joint  Medical  Products  co-founder 
Douglas  G.  Noiles  '44,  who  today  serves 
the  company  as  executive  vice  president 
of  engineering  and  development,  the  long 
and  productive  road  to  his  current  career 
in  medical  implants  has  earned  him  more 
than  60  patents. 

Noiles  left  WPI  after  his  sophomore 
year  to  serve  in  the  U.S.  Marine  Corps 
during  World  War  II.  He  returned  to  com- 
plete his  degree  in  mechanical  engineer- 
ing in  1947.  After  graduation,  he  taught 
for  three  years  in  WPl's  Mechanical  Engi- 
neering Department  before  working  as  an 
engineer  for  Economic  Machine  Co.  in 
Worcester,  a  maker  of  intricate  machines 
that  automatically  affix  labels  to  bottles, 
and  for  Saco-Lowell  Shops  in  Biddeford, 
Maine,  an  old-line  manufacturer  of  textile 
machinery. 

In  1955  Noiles  joined  a  new  Westinghouse  division  making  tubes 
for  radio  and  television.  While  there  he  was  responsible  for  an  inno- 
vation that  greatly  extended  the  life  of  television  picture  tubes.  The 
change,  a  loop  in  a  wire  that  had  been  subject  to  mechanical  failure 
from  frequent  cycles  of  expansion  and  contraction,  enabled  Westing- 
house  to  extend  its  warranty  from  three  months  to  two  years. 

Noiles  then  joined  Automation  Engineering  Laboratories  Inc. 
in  Stamford,  Conn.,  a  maker  of  specialized  equipment  to  automate 
industrial  processes,  and  became  involved  in  a  major  project  to 
develop  automation  techniques  for  the  garment  industry.  After  a 


Above,  Douglas  Noiles  with  some  of  his  designs:  foreground,  right,  a  stapler  that 
rejoins  the  ends  of  the  colon  or  intestines;  to  the  right,  various  designs  for  knee 
prostheses;  in  and  near  his  hands,  parts  of  a  knee  prosthesis.  Opposite,  the  stem 
of  the  Joint  Medical  Products  knee  replacement  and,  in  the  box,  some  of  the 
tapered  porous-metal-coated  femoral  inserts. 


colleague  left  to  work  for  a  new  firm  in  Norwalk,  Conn.,  called  United 
States  Surgical  Corp.,  Noiles  decided  to  join  that  company  as  vice 
president  of  engineering.  At  the  time,  U.S.  Surgical  was  in  the  midst 
of  marketing  one  of  the  first  commercial  surgical  staplers. 

The  surgical  stapler  was  invented  in  1908  in  Hungary,  but  the 
machines  proved  too  bulky  and  too  difficult  to  load  to  find  wide- 
spread acceptance  by  surgeons  for  many  decades.  In  the  late  1940s 
Russian  surgeons,  fresh  from  the  horrors  of  World  War  II,  stepped 
up  the  development  of  the  devices,  which  enable  wounds  to  be 
closed  and  internal  organs  to  be  reconstructed  much  more  quickly 


16 


Spring  1992 


than  with  conventional 
sutures. 

One  of  U.S.  Surgi- 
cal's  first  staplers, 
used  to  close  the  skin 
at  the  end  of  an  opera- 
tion, consisted  of  a 
disposable  cartridge 
that  contained  the 
staples  and  the  staple- 
forming  mechanism, 
and  a  hand-held 
instrument  that  pow- 
ered the  cartridge. 
The  cartridge  was  not 
reliable  and  the  instru- 
ment, powered  by 
compressed  carbon  dioxide,  was  fraught  with  problems,  made  worse 
when  it  was  steam  sterilized. 

Noiles  helped  solve  the  problem  with  the  cartridge  and  developed 
a  hand-powered  instrument  that  proved  more  reliable  than  the  gas- 
powered  model.  He  also  developed  a  ligator,  an  instrument  that  could 
quickly  tie  off  a  blood  vessel  in  two  places  and  cut  in  between,  and 
contributed  to  the  development  of  a  device  that  can  draw  together 
the  ends  of  the  intestine  or  colon  after  a  section  has  been  removed 
and  join  them  instantly  with  up  to  33  staples.  Work  on  these  and 
other  technologies  earned  Noiles  the  Eli  Whitney  Award  from  the 
Connecticut  Patent  Law  Association  in  1985.  The  award  is  given 
annually  to  an  individual  who  has  made  significant  contributions 
to  law  or  science. 

To  help  get  surgeons  interested  in  its  stapling  products,  U.S.  Surgi- 
cal decided  to  offer  orthopaedic  devices.  The  hope  was,  Noiles  says, 
that  surgeons  would  try  the  implants  and,  at  the  same  time,  discover 
the  advantages  of  using  staples  in  this  and  other  kinds  of  surgery. 
"An  opportunity  presented  itself  in  1971,"  he  says.  "American  sur- 
geons wanted  to  do  hip  surgery,  but  the  acrylic  plastic  bone  cement 
developed  in  Europe  for  this  type  of  procedure  had  not  yet  been 
approved  by  the  FDA." 

Russian  surgeons  had  developed  a  hip  prosthesis  that  required 
no  cement,  and  U.S.  Surgical  obtained  the  rights  to  it.  The  hip  con- 
sisted of  two  titanium  parts  that  replaced  the  ball  and  socket  joint 
of  the  hip.  A  long,  tapered  stem  topped  with  a  cobalt  chromium  ball 
was  driven  into  the  top  of  the  femur,  while  a  cup-shaped  socket  was 
inserted  into  the  pelvis.  U.S.  Surgical  added  flutes  to  the  stem  to  en- 
able it  to  resist  rotation  and  replaced  the  metal  the  Russians  used 
inside  the  pelvic  cup  with  ultra-high-molecular-weight  polyethylene. 
The  company  also  decided  to  develop  its  own  knee  replacement. 
The  knee,  a  hinge  that  attached  to  the  femur  and  tibia,  replacing  the 
function  of  the  patient's  own  knee,  would  be  a  "last  resort"  prosthe- 
sis, to  be  used  in  about  5  percent  of  knee  replacements  where  the 
body's  own  muscles  and  ligaments  are  not  capable  of  holding  the 
parts  of  the  knee  joint  together  properly  or  where  a  prior  artificial 
knee  joint  has  failed. 

At  the  suggestion  of  surgeons,  who  noted  that  the  normal  tibia 
is  capable  of  limited  rotation,  Noiles  designed  a  shaft  and  bearing 
that  enabled  the  tibia  to  rotate.  He  added  stops  that  limited  the  rota- 
tion of  the  tibia  to  10  degrees  to  either  side  of  center.  When  tests 
showed  the  design  worked  well,  Noiles  increased  the  range  of  rota- 
tion to  23  degrees.  "This  turned  out  to  be  a  relatively  successful 


device,"  he  says.  "We  got  a  patent  on  it  and  have  licensed  several 
companies  to  use  the  invention." 

In  1972  the  FDA  approved  the  use  of  acrylic  bone  cement,  and 
interest  in  the  U.S.  Surgical  hip  joint  diminished.  In  addition,  by  the 
end  of  the  decade  the  company's  staplers  were  becoming  great 
successes,  and  its  orthopaedic  products  became  less  important. 
Noiles  tried  unsuccessfully  to  sell  the  hip  and  knee  designs  to 
other  companies. 

By  this  time  the  character  of  U.S.  Surgical,  which  had  grown  from 
a  small  company  to  a  major  corporation  earning  more  than  $100  mil- 
lion, had  changed.  "I  didn't  seem  to  fit  in  as  well  as  1  had  when  the 
company  was  smaller,"  Noiles  says.  "So  I  left  U.S.  Surgical  and  contin- 
ued to  try  to  sell  the  technology.  I  finally  decided  somebody  had  to 
do  something  with  these  devices." 

With  C.  Anthony  Whittingham,  former  vice  president  for  finance 
at  U.S.  Surgical,  Noiles  founded  Joint  Medical  Products  in  1982. 
Noiles'  first  task  was  to  reexamine  and  improve  upon  the  Russian 
hip  replacement.  Unlike  most  hip  prosthesis  then  on  the  market,  the 
Russian  hip  was  constrained,  which  meant  the  ball  was  enclosed  by 
the  socket  and  the  two  pieces  could  not  be  separated.  The  design 
made  the  hip  difficult  to  install  and  reduced  the  patient's  range  of 
motion;  however,  it  did  prevent  dislocation,  an  occasional  problem 
in  hip  replacements. 

Noiles  created  a  new  socket  that  would  hold  the  joint  parts  to- 
gether after  the  surgeon  had  implanted  them  separately  and  joined 
them.  Noiles  also  designed  the  socket  so  it  could  be  screwed  into  the 
naturally  spherical  depression  in  the  pelvis.  This  threaded  socket 
was  eventually  replaced  with  a  socket  coated  with  a  porous  metal. 
After  implantation,  bone  would  grow  into  the  cavities  in  the  coating, 
forming  a  strong  bond  that  held  the  cup  in  place. 

Noiles  also  invented  an  insert  for  the  socket  that  could  be  ad- 
justed into  a  wide  range  of  positions  and  then  locked  in  place.  This 
enabled  the  surgeon  to  fine-tune  the  angle  at  which  the  femoral 
component  met  the  socket.  This  patented  design  has  been  copied 
by  other  manufacturers,  but  Noiles  says  Joint  Medical  Products  is 
involved  in  a  patent  interference  proceeding  to  determine  the 
technology's  rightful  inventor. 

To  make  the  hip  more  versatile,  Noiles  created  an  extensive  series 
of  tapered  inserts  that  fit  into  the  femur  and  into  which  the  stem  of 
the  femoral  component  fits.  The  porous-metal-coated  sleeves  enable 
the  surgeon  to  custom  fit  the  implant  to  the  interior  of  the  bone  and 
help  distribute  the  patient's  weight  evenly  over  the  bone.  Noiles  also 
created  a  range  of  sizes  for  the  ball,  the  femoral  stem  and  the  pelvic 
socket  cup. 

Studies  have  shown  that  the  Joint  Medical  Products  design  is 
more  stable  that  other  designs,  Noiles  says.  "It's  also  pretty  much 
accepted  as  the  prosthesis  of  choice  for  revision  surgery— when  a 
hip  prosthesis  must  be  replaced— because  the  range  of  sleeve  sizes 
we  offer  enables  the  surgeon  to  work  with  the  great  range  of  cavities 
that  can  result  when  an  old  prosthesis  is  removed." 

Currently,  Joint  Medical  Products  is  preparing  to  introduce  an  im- 
proved version  of  the  knee  joint  Noiles  developed  for  U.S.  Surgical.  It 
also  continues  to  monitor  the  performance  of  its  hip  joints  and  to 
make  design  changes  as  new  information  and  ideas  come  to  light. 
"Nobody  has  the  answer  to  how  to  build  a  perfect  joint  replace- 
ment," Noiles  says,  "because  we  don't  have  God's  materials.  The  field 
is  always  evolving,  changing  rapidly,  which  is  testimony  to  the  fact 
that  we  haven't  found  the  right  answer  yet.  But  that  also  makes  this 
an  exciting  business." 


WPI  Journal 


17 


Probing  the  Mysteries  of 
The  "Demon  Stars" 


I    n  ancient  times,  watchers  of  the  evening  sky  observed  a  myster- 
I    ious  star  that  would  glow  brightly  for  three  nights  and  then  in- 
I    explicably  dim  before  brightening  again  and  starting  the  cycle 
JL   anew.  The  Arabs  called  it  "Al  ghoul"  or  the  demon  star.  Today, 
scientists  know  that  Algol  is  actually  two  stars,  a  small  but  bright 
dwarf  and  a  much  larger  companion  that  regularly  eclipses  it. 

Since  those  days,  astronomers  have  discovered  that  binary  star 
systems  like  Algol  occur  commonly  throughout  the  universe.  Within 
the  past  few  decades,  they  have  also  come  to  realize  that  these  sys- 
tems hold  clues  to  fundamental  physical  processes  that  may  help 
explain  a  wide  range  of  cosmological  phenomena. 

For  nearly  30  years,  Edward  C.  Olson  '52,  professor  of  astronomy 
at  the  University  of  Illinois  at  Urbana-Champaign,  has  been  studying 
a  class  of  double  stars  called  close  or  interacting  binaries.  The  stars 
in  these  systems  orbit  one  another  in  close  proximity  and  have  or- 
bital periods  ranging  from  a  few  days  to  a  few  weeks. 

What  makes  interacting  binaries  especially  interesting,  Olson 
says,  is  the  tendency  of  matter  to  flow  from  one  star  to  the  other, 
where  it  forms  a  broad  disk  of  gaseous  material  that  slowly  spirals 
inward  until  it  is  deposited  or  accreted  onto  the  surface  of  the  recipi- 
ent star.  These  accretion  disks  resemble  similar  structures  associ- 
ated with  a  number  of  other  stellar  objects. 

"Accretion  disks  are  integral  elements  in  the  formation  of  stars 
and  planets,"  Olson  says.  "There  are  accretion  disks  associated  with 
binary  star  systems  that  produce  regular  thermonuclear  explo- 
sions— so-called  novae.  And  there  are  probably  accretion  disks 
around  quasars  and  the  black  holes  thought  to  be  at  the  center  of 
very  active  galaxies.  The  accretion  disks  we  see  in  relation  to  inter- 
acting binaries  are  weak,  low-density  examples,  but  they  are  highly 
observable,  which  is  why  we  go  after  them." 

Accretion  disks  are  a  normal  stage  in  the  evolution  of  most  close 
binary  systems.  Like  all  stars,  the  companions  that  make  up  a  binary 
coalesced  from  clouds  of  interstellar  gas.  Eventually,  as  gravity  accel- 
erated the  collapsing  gas 
balls,  rising  tempera- 
tures and  pressures 
reached  a  point 
where  hydrogen 
atoms  began  to 
fuse  to  form  he- 
lium. The  energy 
from  this  thermo- 
nuclear reaction 
stabilized  the 
collapsing  bodies, 
which  settled  into 
life  as  small,  hot  stars 
called  dwarfs  (our  own 
sun  will  remain  in  this 
stage  of  evolution  for 
another  four  billion  years). 


<-^ 

^L       WJE^T  jgBa^fl    fcfcM 

jm^mm                  .a\     m 

,^\     '  J^ 

In  interacting  binaries,  gaseous  matter  flows  from  a 
giant  star,  right,  to  a  dwarf,  forming  an  accretion  disk. 


Edward  Olson  has  spent  nearly  30  years  studying 
close  binary  star  systems,  which  may  help  explain 
such  celestial  phenomena  as  black  holes,  quasars 
and  the  formation  of  stars  and  planets. 


Eventually,  a  dwarf  star  will  consume  all  of  the  hydrogen  in  its 
core.  As  the  atomic  furnace  cools,  the  energy  that  has  kept  gravity 
at  bay  subsides  and  the  star  begins  a  brief  period  of  collapse.  At 
some  point,  though,  gravitational  pressure  ignites  a  thin  shell  of 
hydrogen  around  the  collapsing  core,  causing  the  star's  outer 
envelope  to  expand  into  a  giant  reddish  ball. 

Because  the  masses  of  the  partners  in  a  close  binary 
system  are  rarely  identical,  one  star 
inevitably  uses  up  its  fuel  before 
the  other.  As  the  spent  star 
becomes  a  red  giant,  the 
gravitational  force  of  its 
companion  distorts  its 
expanding  gas  envelope 
into  a  teardrop  shape. 

Eventually,  the  peak  of 
this  teardrop  (called  the 
Roche  lobe)  passes  the  point 
between  the  two  stars  where 
their  gravitational  effects  are  in 
equilibrium.  Like  water  reaching 
the  top  of  a  dam  and  overflowing, 
gas  streams  from  the  giant  star  to 
the  dwarf  at  hypersonic  speeds.  If 


18 


Spring  1992 


the  stars  are  close  enough,  the  gas  stream  may  strike  the  surface  of 
the  smaller  star  directly.  But  more  often,  it  passes  behind  and  wraps 
around  the  star  to  form  the  characteristic  accretion  disk. 

Because  of  their  proximity,  close  binaries  appear  as  single  points 
even  in  the  most  powerful  optical  telescopes.  Therefore,  scientists 
like  Olson  must  use  creative  techniques  to  pick  apart  the  light  arriv- 
ing from  a  binary  to  "see"  the  physical  processes  occurring  on  each 
of  the  stars  and  in  the  accretion  disk. 

Olson,  working  in  collaboration  with  Paul  Etzel,  an  astronomer  at 
San  Diego  State  University  in  California,  has  been  observing  binaries 
for  many  years  through  a  one-meter  reflecting  telescope  at  the 
Mount  Laguna  Observatory,  operated  jointly  by  San  Diego  State  and 
the  University  of  Illinois  about  50  miles  east  of  San  Diego.  The  tele- 
scope is  equipped  with  a  charge-coupled  device  or  CCD,  an  elec- 
tronic detector  that  builds  up  a  charge  when  it  is  exposed  to  light. 
After  an  exposure,  the  charge  is  read  from  the  CCD  in  digital  form. 
The  process  is  faster  and  more  sensitive  than  the  photographic 
methods  once  used  in  astronomy. 

The  CCD  can  also  be  linked  with  spectrographs,  which,  like 
prisms,  break  the  light  from  a  binary  system  into  its  component 
spectra.  These  spectra  show  whether  the  stars  or  the  accretion  disk 
absorb  or  emit  energy  at  specific  frequencies.  The  combination  of 
absorption  and  emission  lines  in  the  spectra  indicate  which  elements 
are  present  in  the  objects  and  also  serve  as  their  unique  signatures. 

Seen  through  the  spectrograph,  an  accretion  disk  produces  a 
characteristic  double-peaked  hydrogen  emission  spectra.  The  two 
peaks  are  produced  by  the  opposite  sides  of  the  disk — one  spins  to- 
ward the  Earth  and  is  therefore  shifted  by  the  Doppler  effect  toward 
the  violet  end  of  the  spectrum;  the  other  spins  away  from  the  Earth 
and  is  Doppler-shifted  toward  the  red  end.  The  extent  of  the  Doppler 
shift  indicates  how  fast  the  disk  is  spinning. 

By  viewing  these  spectra  under  varying  conditions,  Olson  gleans 
clues  about  the  structure  and  behavior  of  the  disk.  Observations  like 
these  may  provide  an  answer  to  one  of  the  great  mysteries  associ- 
ated with  accretion  disks:  what  causes  the  gas  to  spiral  in  and  be- 
come deposited  on  the  star? 

Scientists  believe  that  a  process  called  viscous  damping  is  re- 
sponsible, but  to  date  they  have  not  been  able  to  fully  explain  how 
it  works.  The  viscosity  of  the  disk — the  property  that  causes  the  gas 
particles  to  lose  their  angular  momentum  and  fall  toward  the  star — 
may  result,  in  part,  from  collisions  of  gas  molecules  in  the  disk.  As 
they  collide,  they  give  up  energy  as  heat.  Gravitational  effects  from 
the  two  stars  and,  perhaps,  weak  magnetic  forces  in  the  disk  itself 
may  also  contribute. 

"There's  a  lot  going  on  and  it's  always  a  question  of  just  how 
much  we'll  be  able  to  understand,"  Olson  says.  "It's  quite  a  challeng- 
ing process.  All  you  see  is  that  little  point  in  the  telescope.  The  rest 
of  it  is  solving  puzzles." 

For  several  years,  Olson  has  been  at  work  on  a  computer  model 
he  hopes  will  become  a  powerful  tool  for  unraveling  many  of  those 
puzzles.  The  base  for  the  model,  the  first  ever  developed  for  this 
class  of  binary  star  system,  is  the  data  from  the  observations  Olson 
and  Etzel  have  made  of  12  binary  star  systems.  Olson  says  the 
model,  still  in  development,  will  be  used  to  make  predictions  about 
how  the  disks  should  behave— predictions  that  can  then  be  com- 
pared to  the  results  of  actual  observations. 

"The  model  is  really  a  diagnostic  tool  that  probes  the  tempera- 
tures, pressures,  rotations  and  viscous  dissipation  in  the  disks," 


N0A0/IRAF  V2.9EXP0RT  olsomedepol lux  Fr-i  14:48:40  20-Nar-92 
[rc1269l:  RZ  Oph  -  Aperture  1  1200.00s  ap : 1 

40000 

'    '    '  1 

1       1       1 

30000 

" 

- 

20000 

h         J 

10000 

1       1       1 

i      i      i 

6500    6525    6550    6575    6600    6625    6650 

lambda  (angstroms) 

Accretion  disks  produce  characteristic  double-peaked 
spectra.  The  peaks  are  caused  by  the  edges  of  the 
spinning  disk,  each  of  which  is  Doppler  shifted  toward 
a  different  end  of  the  spectrum. 


Olson  says.  "We  should  be  able  to  investigate  many  of  the  important 
mechanisms  associated  with  accretion  disks  using  the  model  and  our 
observations.  Our  hope  is  that  the  model  will  agree  with  the  observa- 
tions, although  that  doesn't  always  guarantee  that  it's  the  right 
model." 

Olson  says  his  interest  in  astronomy  was  sparked  at  a  young  age. 
He  majored  in  physics  at  WP1  because  it  would  provide  the  best 
possible  foundation  for  a  career  studying  the  interactions  of  celestial 
objects.  After  graduation  he  taught  for  a  year  at  WPI  before  he  was 
drafted  into  the  U.S.  Army.  He  spent  two  years  as  a  physics  assistant 
studying  the  performance  of  Nike  and  Ajax  missiles  at  the  White 
Sands  Proving  Grounds  in  New  Mexico,  and  then,  in  1961,  earned  his 
Ph.D.  in  astronomy  at  Indiana  University,  where  he  studied  asymme- 
tries in  solar  absorption  lines  caused  by  convection  and  turbulence 
in  the  Sun's  atmosphere. 

He  continued  studying  the  solar  spectrum  at  Smith  College  as 
a  member  of  the  faculty  of  the  Four-College  (now  Five-College) 
Astronomy  Department  in  Western  Massachusetts.  It  was  during 
those  years  that  he  first  became  interested  in  close  binary  systems, 
a  subject  he  continued  to  pursue  at  RPI  and  at  the  University  of  Illi- 
nois, which  he  joined  in  1966.  "The  first  ideas  about  how  these  sys- 
tems evolve  were  just  being  advanced,"  he  says.  "But  the  observed 
details  were  not  very  well  in  hand." 

In  the  intervening  years,  Olson  says,  it  has  been  the  quest  to  fill 
in  those  details  that  has  kept  his  work  exciting.  "Astronomy  has 
always  had  major  puzzles  throughout  its  history,"  Olson  says.  "The 
situation  today  is  not  that  different,  in  that  sense.  The  nuts  and  bolts 
of  practicing  scientists  is  solving  puzzles  and  understanding  chal- 
lenging situations." 


WPI  Journal 


19 


Charting 


A  New  Course 


By  Michael  Dorsey 


in  its  maplewood, 

n.j.,  offices, 

Hammond  Inc. 

is  using  a 

revolutionary 

computer  system 

to  make  maps. 

in  the  process, 

this  92-year-old 

company  is  taking 

the  ancient  art 

of  cartography 

to  places  it  has 

never  been 

BEFORE. 


Caleb  Hammond  '37  with  just  a  few  of  the  maps  and  atlases  published  by  Hammond  Inc. 


Over  the  course  of  his  55-year 
career,  Caleb  D.  Hammond  '37, 
chairman  of  Hammond  Inc.,  the 
nation's  second  largest  publisher 
of  maps  and  atlases,  has  seen  the  world 
change  a  great  deal.  Nations  have  come  and 
gone,  borders  have  shifted,  cities  have  worn 
new  names,  rivers  have  been  diverted,  and 
islands  have  risen  from  the  sea.  But  of  all 
these  transitions,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
Soviet  Union  has  a  special  place  among 
Hammond's  memories. 

In  1939,  after  two  years  as  a  lubrication 
and  sales  engineer  with  the  Texas  Co.,  the 
forerunner  of  Texaco,  Hammond  joined  the 
family-owned  company  founded  by  his 
grandfather  nearly  40  years  before.  He  was 
on  the  job  only  a  short  time  when  the  Soviet 


Union  signed  a  nonaggression  pact  with 
Hitler's  Germany  and  rolled  into  the  Baltic 
Republics  of  Estonia,  Latvia  and  Lithuania. 

"At  the  time  we  were  doing  an  atlas 
jointly  with  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica," 
Hammond  remembers.  "We  decided  we 
were  going  to  show  these  republics  as  part 
of  Russian  territory.  The  U.S.  government 
saw  the  atlas  and  said  we  should  show  them 
as  independent  republics,  since  the  U.S. 
had  not  recognized  the  occupation.  They 
wanted  us  to  call  the  atlases  back,  but  they 
finally  decided  there  was  nothing  they  could 
do  about  it." 

Fast-forward  54  years.  On  the  heels  of 
an  unsuccessful  coup,  the  U.S.S.R.  is  literally 
falling  apart  and  those  same  three  Baltic 
republics  have  earned  their  independence 


20 


Spring  1992 


once  again.  This  time  the  winds  of  change 
are  less  kind  to  Hammond  Inc.  Sitting  in  a 
warehouse  are  thousands  of  copies  of  the 
latest  edition  of  Hammond's  Citation  World 
Atlas,  which  includes  maps  of  a  complete 
Soviet  Union. 

"Fortunately,  many  of  those  copies  were 
unbound,"  Hammond  says.  "We  are  cur- 
rently reprinting  the  first  72  pages,  which 
include  maps  of  the  U.S.S.R.  and  the  coun- 
tries that  border  it.  This  Russian  thing  has 
been  a  pain  in  the  neck,  but  it's  changes  like 
this  that  keep  us  in  business.  This  year  the 
Russians  just  overdid  it." 

Change  has  been  a  fact  of  life  for  Ham- 
mond Inc.  since  its  founding  in  1900.  The 
story  goes  that  Caleb  Stillson  Hammond, 
a  sales  manager  for  Rand  McNally  &  Co., 
asked  for  a  $5-a-week  raise  from  his 
employer.  When  he  was  turned  down,  he 
decided  to  quit  and  set  up  his  own  map- 
making  business. 

One  of  Hammond's  first  products  was  a 
wall  map  with  the  United  States  on  one  side 
and  the  world  on  the  reverse.  The  world 
map  was  drawn  with  a  revolutionary  new 
projection  that  showed  countries  in  the 
northern  latitudes  more  accurately  than 
conventional  maps.  A  world  atlas  soon  fol- 
lowed and  in  succeeding  years  Hammond 
stayed  on  top  of  social  trends  and  world 
news,  publishing  special  maps  and  collec- 
tions tied  to  such  events  as  the  San  Fran- 
cisco fire,  Commodore  Perry's  trek  to  the 
North  Pole,  and  World  Wars  I  and  II. 

The  company  survived  lean  times  in  the 
1930s  and  arrived  at  its  golden  anniversary 
in  1950  a  thriving  enterprise.  That  year  cor- 
porate offices  were  moved  from  Manhattan, 
where  Hammond  had  established  the 
nation's  first  map  store  in  1911,  to  the  New 
Jersey  site  the  company  has  occupied  ever 
since.  Today  Hammond  continues  to  serve 
many  of  the  markets  it  has  developed  dur- 
ing its  first  92  years. 

For  example,  it  produces  the  maps  in- 
cluded in  encyclopedias  published  by  such 
companies  as  Encyclopaedia  Britannica, 
World  Book,  Funk  and  Wagnalls,  and 
Groliers.  It  publishes  an  extensive  series 
of  maps  and  atlases  for  use  in  schools.  Its 
maps  and  reference  and  travel  atlases  find 
large  markets  in  bookstores  and  map  and 
travel  shops.  And  the  company  produces 
a  wide  variety  of  items  used  as  promotions 
and  incentives  by  companies  and  organiza- 
tions ranging  from  Time  Inc.  and  Reader's 
Digest  to  Ciba  Geigy. 

Through  all  this  change,  Hammond  Inc. 
has  remained  a  family  business,  though  that 
almost  changed  a  few  years  back.  Caleb 
Hammond  became  president  of  the  com- 
pany in  1948,  upon  the  death  of  his  father 
and  uncle,  and  chairman  in  1968.  At  the  age 


of  62  he  retired  to  accept  the  post  of  chair- 
man of  the  board  of  the  Maplewood  Bank 
and  Trust  Co.  At  the  time,  his  brother, 
Stuart,  was  president  of  Hammond  Inc.,  his 
son,  Caleb  Dean  Hammond  III,  was  executive 
vice  president,  and  his  daughter-in-law, 
Kathleen  Hammond,  a  former  advertising 
executive  with  the  New  York  Times,  was  vice 
president  in  charge  of  marketing. 

For  some  time,  Stuart  Hammond  and  sev- 
eral other  relatives  had  been  entertaining 
offers  from  potential  buyers.  When  a  cousin 
decided  to  place  her  sizeable  share  in  the 
company  on  the  auction  block,  Caleb 
Hammond  and  his  son  and  daughter-in-law 
decided  the  time  had  come  to  act.  They 
pooled  their  resources  and  bought  the 
relative's  holdings,  along  with  several 
smaller  shares,  gaining  a  controlling  interest 
in  the  firm.  In  the  aftermath,  Hammond  re- 
joined the  firm  as  chairman;  his  son,  Dean, 
became  president;  and  Kathleen  Hammond 
was  named  executive  vice  president. 

What  they  found  themselves  in  control 
of,  Hammond  says,  was  a  company  that  had 
been  languishing  for  several  years  as  rela- 
tives debated  its  future  direction.  To  revital- 
ize Hammond  Inc.,  the  company's  new 
executives  settled  on  a 
radical  plan  that  would 
not  only  change  the  face 
of  this  85-year-old  firm, 
but  the  state  of  the  art 
of  cartography  itself. 

While  the  technology 
of  mapmaking  had 
evolved  considerably 
from  the  days  when 
craftsmen  laboriously 
drew  each  map  by 
hand,  it  was  still  a  time- 
consuming  and  largely 
manual  process.  Artists 
and  draftsmen,  working 
at  drawing  boards,  hand- 
crafted maps  with  the 
help  of  editors,  who  drew 
on  the  latest  information 
carefully  stored  in  banks 
of  file  cabinets  to  assure 
the  accuracy  of  names, 
river  courses,  mountain 
elevations  and  so  on. 

The  finished  drawings 
were  photographed  and 
turned  first  into  negatives 
and  then  into  plates  for 
the  printing  press.  Updat- 
ing maps  meant  retrieving 
old  drawings  from  stor- 
age, pulling  off  old,  incor- 
rect labels,  redrawing 
outdated  features,  and 
redoing  indexes — a 


process  that  could  easily  consume  several 
months.  Hammond's  new  management  team 
looked  at  the  significant  inroads  computers 
were  making  into  other  areas  of  business — 
including  the  printing  and  publishing  indus- 
tries— and  wondered  why  their  business, 
too,  could  not  benefit  from  the  computer 
revolution. 

The  company  began  to  build  what  it  now 
calls  the  Hammond  Digital  Cartographic 
Database  (HDCD),  a  comprehensive  file 
of  information  about  the  entire  world  that 
enables  Hammond  Inc.  to  generate  maps 
of  virtually  any  area  at  scales  as  small  as 
1:500,000.  The  first  step  in  creating  HDCD 
was  to  acquire  a  public-domain  database 
created  by  the  U.S.  government.  The  com- 
pany also  purchased  about  $5  million  in 
computer  equipment,  including  specialized 
graphics  terminals  designed  for  carto- 
graphic work  and  made  by  Intergraph 
Corp.  in  Huntsville,  Ala. 

While  a  useful  starting  point,  the  govern- 
ment database  was  less  than  perfect,  Ham- 
mond says.  "We  discovered  that  it  had 
many,  many  inaccuracies.  Also,  we  found 
out  early  on  that  there  were  a  lot  of  things 
we  wanted  to  do  that  the  government  never 


Caleb  Hammond  watches  as  his  company's  chief 
draftsman,  Herbert  Pierce,  touches  up  the  negatives 
for  a  new  map  of  the  world. 


WPI  Journal 


21 


worried  about.  For  example,  we  had  to 
spend  a  lot  of  time  making  sure  that  one 
section  of  the  world  would  line  up  accu- 
rately with  the  sections  around  it." 

To  create  the  software  that  would  make 
this  and  other  vital  tasks  possible,  Ham- 
mond hired  several  computer  programmers 
and  called  on  a  number  of  computer 
experts.  Most  notable  among  these  was 
Mitchell  J.  Feigenbaum,  professor  of  math- 
ematics and  physics  at  Rockefeller  Univer- 
sity in  New  York.  Kathleen  Hammond  had 
met  Feigenbaum  at  Cornell  University  in 
1970,  when  she  was  an  undergraduate  and 
he  was  completing  postdoctoral  work. 

After  two  years  at  Cornell,  Feigenbaum 
completed  another  two  years  of  post- 
doctoral studies  at  Virginia  Polytechnic 
Institute  and  then  joined  the  staff  of  Los 
Alamos  National  Laboratory  in  New  Mexico, 
where  in  1976  he  discovered  universality,  a 
theory  that  explains  what  happens  as  natu- 
ral systems,  such  as  flowing  water,  clouds 
or  rising  smoke,  make  the  transition  from 
orderly  to  turbulent  or  chaotic  behavior. 
The  discovery  was  a  critical  step  on  the 
road  to  chaos  theory,  widely  considered 
one  of  the  most  important  scientific  ad- 
vances of  modern  times. 

Using  the  techniques  of  object-oriented 


programming  (see  story,  page  24),  Feigen- 
baum developed  the  algorithms  that  knit 
the  information  in  the  database  into  a  seam- 
less representation  of  the  globe  (one  that 
would  cover  two-thirds  of  a  football  field 
if  printed  out  at  the  nominal  scale  of 
1:3,000,000).  He  also  developed  techniques 
that  enabled  the  computer  to  adjust  the 
level  of  detail  displayed  depending  upon 
the  scale  of  the  map. 

For  example,  the  complicated  coastline 
of  Maine  can  be  shown  in  far  greater  detail 
on  a  map  that  displays  just  the  state  itself 
than  on  a  map  of  the  whole  Eastern  Sea- 
board. The  software  Feigenbaum  developed 
also  enables  the  computer  to  choose  a 
projection  for  each  map  that  displays  that 
region  of  the  world  in  the  most  realistic  and 
accurate  manner. 

Another  key  piece  of  software,  on  which 
a  patent  is  currently  pending,  places  type — 
such  the  names  of  cities  and  towns — on 
the  map,  a  task  that  can  be  challenging  in 
heavily  developed  areas  where  population 
centers  lie  close  together.  "Initially,  we 
would  have  crashes  in  these  areas  where 
the  names  would  just  run  into  each  other," 
Hammond  says.  "Feigenbaum  developed  a 
way  of  handling  this  by  relocating  names  in 
an  orderly  way  if  they  start  to  crash.  This  is 


something  the  government  has  been  trying 
to  do  for  25  years." 

To  date,  the  development  of  the  data- 
base has  consumed  five  chronological  years 
and  150  man-years  of  effort.  There  are  two 
types  of  data  in  the  database.  Linework  in- 
cludes more  than  1,000  types  of  geographic 
features,  including  coastlines,  rivers,  moun- 
tains, islands,  roads,  canals,  railroads  and 
political  boundaries.  Some  details  can  have 
complex  codes  that  include  information  that 
may  show  up  only  at  certain  map  scales. 
For  example,  a  detailed  map  might  show  the 
exact  width  of  a  river  along  with  the  courses 
of  all  of  its  tributaries,  while  a  map  with  a 
broader  scale  may  simply  show  the  path 
of  the  main  branch. 

Textual  information  is  stored  separately 
within  the  same  database.  Each  population 
center  is  coded  with  its  local  name,  its  stan- 
dard name  as  determined  by  the  U.S.  Board 
of  Geographical  Names,  and  its  historic 
name  or  names.  The  company  is  also  trans- 
lating these  names  into  multiple  languages 
for  maps  and  atlases  published  internation- 
ally. In  addition  to  its  name  or  names,  each 
city  and  town  is  coded  with  its  population. 
The  population  data  determines  how  large 
the  locality's  name  will  appear  on  a  map 
and — depending  upon  the  map's  scale — 


22 


Spring  1992 


whether  it  will  appear  at  all. 

There  are  no  actual  maps  in  the  system. 
Working  at  computer  terminals,  a  cartogra- 
pher creates  a  map  by  retrieving  from  the 
database  information  about  an  area  bound 
by  designated  coordinates.  The  computer 
automatically  draws  in  the  appropriate  bor- 
ders and  map  scales.  The  cartographer  can 
choose  from  a  wide  range  of  colors  and  pat- 
terns to  indicate  geographic  features,  can 
use  any  of  dozens  of  symbols  for  points  of 
interest,  and  can  select  appropriate  fonts 
for  the  type. 

Finished  maps  can  be  output  in  a  num- 
ber of  ways.  For  proofing,  they  can  be 
printed  on  color  computer  terminals  or  on 
a  host  of  high-resolution  plotters  and  print- 
ers. Information  can  be  stored  on  magnetic 
tapes  or  disks.  And  maps  ready  for  publica- 
tion can  be  sent  to  a  device  that  generates 
four-color  negatives  for  printing. 

While  the  creation  of  the  database  was 
largely  the  work  of  computer  experts,  its 
maintenance  will  fall  to  Hammond's  staff  of 
editors.  "The  world  is  constantly  changing," 


Opposite,  cartographers  update  a  computer-generated  map  of 
the  Indian  subcontinent.  Above,  Caleb  Hammond  looks  over 
one  of  the  thousands  of  maps  in  the  Hammond  Inc.  archives. 


Hammond  says.  "Everybody  hears  about 
changes  like  Leningrad  becoming  St.  Peters- 
burg once  again,  so  you  have  to  get  those 
right.  But  there  are  so  many  other  changes 
that  happen  all  the  time  that  few  people 
hear  about.  The  nice  thing  about  this  data- 
base is  that  you  only  have  to  make  a  change 
once.  Whether  it's  a  name  change  or  a 
change  in  the  course  of  a  river,  once  it's  in 
the  database  that  change  will  be  made  for 
every  map  we  produce  with  the  computer." 

So  far,  Hammond  has  produced  just  a 
few  products  electronically,  most  notably  a 
l:4,000,000-scale  map  of  the  Indian  subconti- 
nent created  last  year  for  an  international 
book  fair.  In  addition,  a  computerized  collec- 
tion of  world  flags  was  recently  used  in  the 
production  of  wall  maps  of  the  United  States 
and  the  world  (the  maps  themselves  were 
produced  conventionally). 

Currently  in  production  is  the  new 
Hammond  Atlas  of  the  World,  a  304-page, 
ll-by-14-inch  volume  that  will  go  on  sale  in 
September — by  far  the  most  detailed  and 
accurate  atlas  the  company  has  ever  pro- 
duced, Hammond  says. 
All  of  the  more  than  200 
maps  in  the  collection 
are  being  created  with 
the  HDCD.  When  the 
atlas  is  complete,  the 
database  will  be  em- 
ployed to  produce  a 
wide  range  of  other 
products,  including 
many  more  area  maps 
for  travelers,  small 
pocket-sized  atlases, 
school  atlases  and — 
should  a  comprehen- 
sive road  network  be 
added  to  the  data- 
base— a  series  of  road 
maps. 

Caleb  Hammond, 
who  is  a  member  of  the 
American  and  Royal 
Geographical  societies, 
a  former  director  of  the 
Association  of  Ameri- 
can Publishers  (then 
known  as  the  American 
Textbook  Publishers 
Institute),  and  a  trustee 
emeritus  of  WPI  (from 
which  he  recently  re- 
ceived the  Robert  H. 
Goddard  '08  Award  for 
Professional  Achieve- 
ment), says  the  data- 
base will  enable  the 
company  to  easily  pro- 
duce specialty  maps  of 
all  sizes,  in  a  variety  of 


custom  styles,  and  with  an  infinite  variety  of 
information  tailored  for  individual  custom- 
ers. A  good  example,  he  says,  are  the  ency- 
clopedia publishers  with  which  Hammond 
has  worked  for  decades. 

"In  the  past  we've  been  able  to  give 
these  companies  maps  at  whatever  size 
they  wanted,  but  they  all  received  basically 
the  same  maps,"  he  says.  "They've  always 
wanted  their  maps  to  look  different  than 
anyone  else's.  Now  it  will  be  possible  for  us 
to  do  that.  We'll  be  able  to  give  them  their 
own  selection  of  areas  and  color  treatments. 
They  can  choose  to  show  mountains  or  not, 
and  so  on.  We  think  this  will  open  up  brand 
new  areas  for  us." 

With  the  computer  it  will  be  possible  to 
produce  all  of  these  products  in  a  fraction 
of  the  time  that  was  once  necessary.  For  ex- 
ample, creating  the  map  of  the  Indian  sub- 
continent from  scratch,  a  task  that  might 
once  have  consumed  six  months  of  time  for 
a  team  of  editors  and  designers,  took  only 
a  few  weeks.  Twice  that  much  time  would 
have  been  required  to  assemble  the  map's 
index  of  town  names  (something  the  com- 
puter now  does  automatically  in  seconds) 
in  the  "old  days."  Hammond  says  that  in 
time,  as  the  company  gains  experience  with 
its  computer  system,  the  process  should 
become  even  faster. 

While  Hammond  will  create  nearly  all  of 
its  future  maps  and  atlases  with  the  comput- 
erized database,  Caleb  Hammond  says  there 
will  always  be  products  that  can  better  be 
created  or  updated  in  a  more  traditional 
manner.  These  include  special  topical  maps 
in  various  school  atlases  on  things  like  in- 
fant mortality  and  the  location  of  fossil  de- 
posits. In  addition,  he  says,  the  company 
has  thousands  of  maps  in  its  archives,  some 
of  which  will  continue  to  be  updated  from 
time  to  time  and  reused.  Work  like  this  will 
keep  the  company's  staff  of  draftsmen,  some 
of  whom  have  been  with  the  company  for 
decades,  busy  for  years  to  come. 

Currently,  Hammond  Inc.  has  the  field 
of  commercial  computerized  cartography 
virtually  to  itself.  No  other  major  mapmaker 
has  created  the  type  of  advanced  carto- 
graphic tools  that  Hammond  has  pioneered 
over  the  past  five  years.  "I've  enjoyed 
watching  this  progress,"  says  Hammond, 
who  adds  that  he  may  retire  once  again 
when  the  new  atlas  finds  its  way  to  book- 
stores this  fall. 

"This  is  going  to  be  the  future  of  our 
company,  and  I  couldn't  be  happier.  In  truth, 
I  had  no  business  buying  out  that  relative, 
but  I  could  see  sections  of  the  company 
withering  and  dying  on  the  vine.  I  said, 
'Damn  it,  we're  going  to  stick  with  it  and 
turn  this  company  around.'  That's  what 
we're  trying  to  do." 


WPI  Journal 


23 


Building  a  New  Window  on  the  World 


By  Michael  Dorsey 

A  NEW  APPROACH  TO 
DESIGNING  LARGE  SCIENTIFIC 
DATABASES  PROMISES  TO  GIVE 
GLOBAL  CHANGE  RESEARCHERS 
A  POWERFUL  NEW  TOOL  FOR 
UNDERSTANDING  OUR  PLACE 
ON  THE  PLANET. 


In  an  office  of  the  not-too-distant  future, 
a  climatologist  sits  down  at  her  com- 
puter workstation  and  types  in  a  simple 
question:  Has  the  rainfall  across  Southern 
California  been  affected  by  the  shrinking 
rain  forests  of  Brazil?  In  a  few  moments,  the 
screen  is  filled  with  a  patchwork  of  images, 
icons  and  menus. 

Using  the  computer's  mouse  to  link 
together  certain  pictures  and  icons,  then 
typing  simple  answers  to  questions  the 
computer  poses,  she  sharpens  her  search 
and  then  goes  beyond  her  initial  query, 
drawing  in  data  on  wind  patterns,  atmo- 
spheric gas  exchange  and  solar  radiation — 
some  of  it  gleaned  from  computers  located 
thousands  of  miles  away — and  integrating 
it  with  information  coded  in  weather  satel- 
lite photos  pulled  from  a  data  bank  in  Wash- 
ington, D.C.  Finally,  she  displays  the  results 
of  her  new  computer  model  as  a  time- 
sequenced  series  of  high-resolution  maps. 

It  may  sound  like  science  fiction,  but  a 
system  like  this  is  the  ultimate  goal  of  a  new 
project  being  undertaken  by  a  research 
team  consisting  of  three  faculty  members  in 
WPI's  Computer  Science  Department  and  a 
professor  of  geography  at  Clark  University. 
With  a  two-year,  $315,000  grant  from  the 
National  Science  Foundation,  the  team 
hopes  to  take  the  first  steps  toward  a  radi- 
cal new  way  of  handling  the  huge  amounts 


of  information  that  confront  scientists  study- 
ing the  phenomenon  of  global  change. 

WPI  was  one  of  1 1  colleges  and  universi- 
ties around  the  nation  (out  of  1 15  that  sub- 
mitted proposals)  to  receive  funding  in  the 
first  round  of  a  new  NSF  initiative  aimed  at 
finding  innovative  ways  to  manage  large 
scientific  databases.  The  goal  of  the  program 
is  to  overcome  the  limitations  of  the  data- 
base software  commonly  used  in  scientific 
research,  most  of  which  is  modeled  after 
packages  designed  for  business  applications. 

For  the  most  part,  current  scientific  data- 
bases can't  easily  handle  the  staggering 
quantity  of  data  often  gathered  in  geographic 


or  climatological  research  (weather  satel- 
lites, for  example,  collect  billions  of  bits  of 
data  every  day).  In  addition,  business-ori- 
ented databases  generally  lack  the  flexibility 
to  adapt  easily  to  new  types  of  data  or  to 
new  ways  of  analyzing  it.  This  quality — 
called  extensibility — is  also  required  to 
accommodate  metadata,  or  data  about  the 
data,  which  can  include  information  about 
how,  when  and  where  the  data  were  created, 
and  about  how  they  have  been  processed  or 
recalibrated  in  the  meantime. 

"As  we  looked  at  existing  software,"  notes 
Nabil  I.  Hachem,  assistant  professor  of  com- 
puter science,  "we  also  found  that  most 


24 


Spring  1992 


JANET  WOODCOCK 


concentrates  either  on  the  management  of 
data  or  on  the  analysis  of  data.  We  wanted 
to  find  a  way  to  integrate  these  functions." 

Hachem  says  the  researchers  also  noted 
that  most  existing  database  systems  de- 
signed for  geographic  and  cartographic 
research— so-called  geographical  informa- 
tion systems  or  GISs — deal  adequately  with 
either  spatial  data  (data  that  describes  the 
distribution  of  things  in  space)  or  temporal 
data  (which  describes  how  something 
changes  over  time).  A  goal  of  the  global 
change  database  project  is  finding  a  way  to 
integrate  spatial  and  temporal  data,  making 
it  easier  for  researchers  to  study  how  global 


Graduate  students  Yu-Hong  Zhang, 
left,  and  Ke  Qiu  are  developing  parts 
of  a  new  database  program  that  may 
revolutionize  the  way  geographic 
and  cartographic  information  is 
stored  and  analyzed. 


systems  change  over  time,  and  to  model 
how  they  may  change  in  the  future. 

To  meet  these  challenges,  the  research 
team,  which  also  includes  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor Michael  A.  Gennert  and  Associate 
Professor  Matthew  0.  Ward  of  WPI's  Com- 
puter Science  Department  and  Clark  Univer- 
sity Professor  J.  Ronald  Eastman,  is  turning 
to  a  technique  called  object-oriented 
programming. 

A  traditional  program  is  a  long  list  of 
instructions — called  code — that  tells  a  com- 
puter how  to  find  and  analyze  data  and  what 
to  do  with  the  results.  Sometimes  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  lines  long,  such  programs 
can  become  so  unwieldy  that  they  are 
virtually  impossible  to  update  or  even 
understand. 

Object-oriented  programs  consist  of  dis- 
crete, self-contained  modules  called  objects. 
Most  objects  describe  specific  entities,  for 
example  a  thunderstorm  over  Kansas  or  the 
annual  snowfall  on  Mt.  Kilimanjaro.  Encoded 
within  the  object  is  a  description  of  how  it 
behaves.  For  example,  the  snowfall  object 
might  include  daily  totals  for  snowfall  and 
the  program  for  computing  a  yearly  aver- 
age. Metadata  about  the  object  can  also  be 
bundled  into  the  object  itself. 

With  object-oriented  techniques,  com- 
puter programs  no  longer  need  be  hand- 
crafted, as  most  are  now.  They  can  be 
assembled  from  existing  objects,  much 
like  computers  themselves  can  be  pieced 
together  from  off-the-shelf  components.  In 
addition,  objects  are  easily  extensible— they 
can  even  evolve  into  new  objects  with  new 
characteristics  as  the  demands  on  them 
change.  For  example,  the  annual  snowfall 
object  can  easily  become  a  monthly  snow- 
fall object  or  an  annual  rainfall  object. 

"This  is  one  possible  solution  to  the 
problems  posed  by  large  scientific  data- 
bases," Gennert  says.  "We  think  it's  a  good 
solution,  but  we'll  have  to  prove  that.  One 


of  the  reviewers  who  read  our  proposal 
said  our  idea  is  either  brilliant  or  it  will 
never  work." 

The  idea  for  the  global  change  database 
began  about  four  years  ago  when  Gennert 
and  Ward  became  interested  in  finding  ways 
to  automate  the  process  of  creating  and 
manipulating  maps.  They  visited  the  U.S. 
Geological  Survey  in  Reston,  Va.,  to  learn 
about  the  most  pressing  needs  in  automated 
cartography.  Then,  with  faculty  members 
from  the  Electrical  Engineering  Department, 
they  put  together  a  proposal  to  the  NSF  and 
the  Defense  Advanced  Research  Projects 
Administration  (DARPA)  for  funding  for  a 
knowledge-intensive  map  analysis  program. 

While  the  proposal  was  not  funded,  it  led 
Gennert  and  Ward  to  do  further  research  and 
develop,  with  the  help  of  a  graduate  student 
and  an  undergraduate  completing  his  Major 
Qualifying  Project,  a  prototype  map-display- 
ing program.  In  the  meantime,  the  U.S.G.S. 
announced  its  intention  to  begin  funding 
research  on  global  change — a  broad  area 
that  encompasses  the  complex  relationships 
among  the  Earth's  physical  and  biological 
systems  and  how  they  are  affected  by  the 
activities  of  man.  The  causes  and  conse- 
quences of  global  warming,  the  destruction 
of  the  Earth's  ozone  layer,  and  the  deforesta- 
tion of  the  tropics  are  all  subjects  that  fall 
within  the  realm  of  global  change. 

With  the  U.S.G.S.  announcement  as  an 
incentive,  Ward  and  Gennert  drafted  a  white 
paper  in  which  they  refined  their  ideas  and 
proposed  a  new  software  architecture  that 
appeared  to  solve  the  needs  of  global  change 
research.  "This  system  would  be  able  to  store 
and  manipulate  data  in  a  more  general  and 
powerful  way  than  what  the  U.S.G.S.  had 
envisioned,"  Gennert  says.  "We  thought  it 
was  the  right  kind  of  forward-looking  system, 
one  that  the  field  would  need  eventually." 

Gennert  and  Ward  sketched  out  a  working 
diagram  of  their  system  on  a  blackboard  in 
Gennert 's  office  and  modified  it  on  a  regular 
basis.  As  the  system  developed,  the  two  re- 
searchers realized  they  were  straying  further 
and  further  from  their  own  areas  of  expertise, 
which  include  image  processing,  image 
understanding,  artificial  intelligence  and 
visualization.  "We  realized  that  this  is  really 
a  large  database  problem,"  Ward  says.  "The 
ranges  of  types  of  data  and  the  sizes  of  the 


WPI  Journal 


25 


Left  to  right, 
Professors 
Michael  Gennert, 
Matthew  Ward  and 
Nabil  Hachem. 


databases  posed  problems  that  went 
beyond  our  abilities." 

They  enlisted  Hachem,  whose  area  of 
interest  is  very  large  data  and  knowledge 
bases.  Shortly  after  Hachem  joined  the 
group,  the  NSF  put  out  a  request  for  propos- 
als for  new  approaches  to  designing  scien- 
tific databases.  "They  wanted  a  system  that 
was  appropriate  for  a  specific  field  of  current 
importance,  but  which  incorporated  ideas 
that  could  be  extrapolated  into  scientific 
databases  in  general,"  Hachem  says. 

Knowing  that  scientific  databases  often 
fall  short  because  database  designers  focus 
on  technology  instead  of  the  needs  of  the 
people  who  will  use  that  technology,  the 
team  forged  a  link  with  the  George  Perkins 
Marsh  Institute  in  the  school  of  geography 
at  Clark  University.  "We  felt  that  being  part 
of  an  interdisciplinary  team  would  help 
us  understand  the  needs  of  global  change 
researchers,"  Hachem  says. 

Those  needs  are  considerable,  as 
Hachem,  Gennert  and  Ward  have  discovered. 
Scientists  in  this  field  deal  with  a  wide  range 
of  data  types,  including  cartographic  data, 
such  as  elevations  and  information  about 
land  use  and  water  runoff;  satellite  images  of 
vegetation  and  weather  patterns;  point  data 
on  rainfall  and  solar  radiation;  and  the  out- 
put of  mathematical  models  of  groundwater 
flow  and  atmospheric  circulation. 

"We've  had  weeks  of  discussions  just  to 
define  what  data  is,"  Ward  says,  "and  to  con- 
vince ourselves  that  our  system  can  cover  a 
significant  portion  of  the  various  types  of 
data  that  global  change  researchers  use.  We 
don't  want  to  leave  out  anything  that's  going 
to  prevent  our  system  from  being  useful." 

The  diversity  of  data  is  only  one  of  the 
challenges  the  researchers  will  face  as  they 
develop  the  global  change  database.  Further 
complicating  their  work  is  the  fact  that  the 


data  are  recorded  in  a  wide  variety  of  ways. 
Notes  Ward,  "Everything  has  a  different  file 
format.  And  it's  all  recorded  at  different  res- 
olutions, different  scales,  and  with  different 
accuracies.  How  do  you  compare  apples 
and  oranges?  You  can  either  mold  one  type 
of  data  into  another,  or  find  some  middle 
ground  and  hope  you  haven't  lost  too  much 
of  the  data  in  the  conversion." 

With  object-oriented  programming,  each 
data  object  can  contain  a  description  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  data  it  contains.  Other 
objects  can  be  programmed  with  rules  for 
how  different  types  of  data  can  be  manipu- 
lated in  a  sensible  way.  "For  example,"  notes 
Gennert,  "it  makes  sense  to  ask  for  annual 
rainfall  by  summing  the  rainfall  totals  for 
each  month.  On  the  other  hand,  it  doesn't 
make  sense  to  get  population  growth  by 
totaling  the  population  totals  for  each  month. 
You  have  to  know  how  the  data  can  be  prop- 
erly interpreted,  interpolated,  extrapolated, 
predicted  and  calibrated." 

"Our  goal,"  Ward  says,  "is  not  to  solve  all 
these  problems,  but  to  create  an  environ- 
ment in  which  they  can  be  solved.  Extensi- 
bility is  a  requirement  for  doing  that.  As 
people  come  up  with  new  needs,  new  abili- 
ties and  new  data,  the  system  will  have  to 
grow  with  it." 

By  making  each  type  of  data  a  separate 
object,  the  researchers  hope  to  make  the 
system  easy  to  modify.  Adding  new  data 
types  or  new  analyses,  for  example,  should 
be  as  easy  as  plugging  new  objects  into  the 
database  or  modifying  existing  objects. 

Another  important  goal  of  the  global 
change  database  project  is  making  the 
program  as  easy  to  use  as  possible.  To  do 
that,  they  will  place  a  visual  interface — a 
sort  of  interpreter — between  the  user  and 
the  software.  Ph.D.  candidate  Yu-Hong  Zhang 
is  currently  developing  a  system  that  will 


enable  users  to  ask  questions  about  natural 
phenomena  that  change  in  both  space  and 
time — such  as  a  moving  cold  front  or  the 
changing  boundary  between  climatological 
zones — by  manipulating  images  instead  of 
typing  long  queries  in  an  arcane  computer 
language. 

"With  most  databases,  forgetting  one 
component  of  the  query  can  result  in  a  long, 
senseless  search,"  Ward  says.  "We  want  to 
avoid  that.  We  also  want  to  have  reasonable 
default  specifications  so  people  don't  have 
to  specify  20  things  before  they  get  some- 
thing out  of  a  search.  So  we're  creating  a 
hybrid  visual-text  system  that  will  enable 
users  to  both  extend  the  system  and  get 
information  out  of  it." 

Another  Ph.D.  candidate,  Ke  Qiu,  is 
at  work  designing  the  model  for  the  data 
objects,  and  is  also  developing  the  system 
that  will  retrieve  data  and  guide  its  analysis 
in  response  to  a  user's  queries.  "We  don't 
want  the  user  to  have  to  go  through  all  the 
steps  he  or  she  must  do  now — finding  the 
data,  converting  it  to  common  scales  and  so 
on.  We  also  want  the  user  to  be  able  to  take 
the  whole  sequence  of  operations  the  com- 
puter might  perform  on  a  certain  type  of 
data  and  turn  that  into  a  new  object  that 
can  be  used  again  and  again." 

Over  the  next  two  years,  the  team  will 
develop  a  working  prototype  of  the  system 
that  will  then  be  tested  with  a  wide  range  of 
geographic  and  cartographic  data  provided 
by  Clark  University.  While  the  early  proto- 
types of  the  new  global  change  database 
software  will  be  tested  with  data  residing  on 
computers  at  WP1  and  Clark,  the  designers 
would  ultimately  like  to  give  their  system 
the  ability  to  tap  into  international  computer 
networks  to  gather  information  from  diverse 
and  potentially  incompatible  computer 
systems  located  around  the  world. 


26 


Spring  1992 


Al  Anderson  Starts  a  New  Chapter 


By  Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


Here's  a  riddle:  Which  word  describes  some  of  the 
materials  in  the  George  C.  Gordon  Library  and  the 
man  who  has  presided  over  WPI's  library  collections 
for  more  than  a  quarter  century?  To  those  who  know  head 
librarian  Albert  G.  Anderson  Jr.,  the  answer  is  simple: 
"reserved." 

"Maybe  it's  my  Scandinavian 
upbringing,"  says  Anderson, 
who  will  retire  on  June  30  after 
29  years  as  the  library's  top  ad- 
ministrator. Only  the  sixth  librar- 
ian in  the  college's  history — and 

the  only  man  to  have  held  the  post— Anderson  was  preceded 
by  Emily  M.  Haynes,  who  served  from  1902  to  1942,  and 
Bonnie-Blanche  Schoonover,  who  was  head  librarian  from 
1942  to  1963. 

Ask  him  about  the  hundreds  of  books  and  the  primitive 
art  that  line  the  walls  and  shelves  of  his  office  on  the  first 


After  nearly  three  decades  as  the  head  of  the 

Institute's  innovative  and  extensive  collections, 

WPI's  library  director  is  set  to  retire. 


floor  of  the  library  and  all  he'll  volunteer  is,  "The  library  is 
not  my  whole  life.  I  have  many  other  areas  of  interest."  But 
ask  this  private  man  about  the  library  and  he  becomes 
instantly  loquacious. 

Anderson,  who  was  born  in  Fargo,  N.D.,  earned  a  bachelor's 
degree  from  North  Dakota  State 
University,  a  master's  from  the 
University  of  Wyoming,  and  a 
master's  in  library  service  from 
the  University  of  Illinois. 

In  the  early  1960s  he  was 
living  in  Ann  Arbor,  Mich.,  and 
working  as  head  of  technical  information  for  the  Bendix  Corp. 
and  as  a  consultant  for  General  Electric  when  he  met  Albert 
M.  Demont  '31 ,  a  WP1  trustee.  Demont  mentioned  the  meeting 
to  M.  Lawrence  Price,  then  dean  of  faculty  at  the  Institute, 
and  when  Bonnie-Blanche  Schoonover  announced  her  retire- 
ment, Price  invited  Anderson  to  apply  for  the  post.  "When  I 


WPI  Journal 


27 


Students  take  in  an  exhibit  on  the  Tiananman  Square 
uprising  in  the  third-floor  gallery  in  Gordon  Library- 


saw  Worcester  on  the  map,"  he  says,  "I  thought 
it  must  be  pronounced  'Worchester.'  Upon  my 
arrival  I  was  put  straight." 

Anderson  selected  a  propitious  time  to 
relocate  to  the  city.  When  he  arrived  on 
campus  in  1963,  WPl's  library  was  actually 
eight  separate  collections  in  six  different 
locations.  Humanities  and  social  science 
publications  were  housed  in  a  one-room 
library  in  the  basement  of  Alden  Memorial; 
the  Chemistry  and  Chemical  Engineering 
departments  shared  shelf  space  in  Goddard 
Hall;  and  the  Physics  Department  and  the 
Civil,  Electrical  and  Mechanical  Engineering 
departments  maintained  their  own  separate 
collections. 

Anderson  immediately  became  part  of 
a  team,  lead  by  Harry  P.  Storke  (who  had 
assumed  the  presidency  of  the  Institute  the 
year  before)  that  was  planning  a  new  library 
that  would  house  these  varied  collections. 
"President  Storke  wanted  a  library-museum," 
says  Anderson.  "He  believed  in  creating  a 
building  to  contain  the  printed  word  as  well 
as  artifacts  of  the  past." 

When  he  learned  that  the  idea  would  be 
too  expensive  to  implement,  Storke  champi- 
oned the  creation  of  a  state-of-the-art  library 
—  one  designed,  Anderson  recalled  in  a 
1987  article  in  the  WPI  Journal,  as  "a  campus 
showcase... what  a  building  in  WPl's  future 
would  look  like." 


Completed  at  a  cost  of 
$2.5  million  Qargely  funded 
by  a  $5  million  bequest  from 
George  C.  Gordon,  a  Cleve- 
land industrialist  who  gradu- 
ated from  WPI  in  1895),  the 
65,000-square-foot  Gordon 
Library  brought  all  the  infor- 
mation on  campus  together 
under  one  roof  to  be  super- 
vised by  a  staff  of  trained 
professionals.  The  building, 
the  first  campus  structure  to 
be  centrally  air-conditioned, 
became  a  model  for  other 
college  libraries. 

Gordon  Library  had  space 
for  200,000  books  and  450 
patrons.  It  featured  carpeted 
meeting  and  seminar  rooms,  a 
first-floor  music  room,  space 
for  the  Institute's  archives, 
and  many  areas  for  study  or 
relaxation.  While  not  Storke's 
vision  of  a  museum,  the 
library  incorporated  display 
space  for  paintings,  photo- 
graphs, prints  and  pottery 
in  the  lobby  and  in  the  wide 
third-floor  corridor.  The  bot- 
tom floor  housed  the  Worces- 
ter Area  Computation  Center 
(WACC).  There  were  1,700  students  on  cam- 
pus and  40,000  books  on  the  shelves  when 
it  opened  in  the  fall  of  1968. 

Twenty-five  years  after  its  dedication, 
Gordon  Library  remains  ahead  of  its  time, 
although  today  it  is  almost  as  different  from 
the  building  it  was  the  day  it  opened  as  the 
new  library  was  from  the  original  discon- 


nected collections.  WPl's  student  popula- 
tion is  now  about  3,800  and  the  building 
is  bursting  at  the  seams  with  more  than 
350,000  volumes,  nearly  one  million  pieces 
of  microfilm  and  microfiche,  about  1,500 
magazine  and  journal  titles,  and  some  2,000 
videotapes  of  course  lectures. 

"This  library  is  a  dynamic  facility  that 
meets  the  times  and  the  needs  of  the 
people,"  says  Anderson.  "Thirty  years  ago  a 
library  was  basically  a  collection  of  books, 
monographs,  periodicals,  reference  materi- 
als and  technical  reports — mostly  in  paper 
copy.  Over  the  years,  microfilm  came  into 
existence,  which  saved  space  by  putting 
materials  on  a  single  image  that  people 
could  access  with  a  special  reader. 

"As  computers  became  more  sophisti- 
cated, information  could  be  stored  in  a 
different  form,  and  a  whole  new  world 
opened  up  for  the  user  and  the  librarian," 
he  explains.  "As  a  result,  the  reference  area 
of  the  library  has  changed  drastically.  There 
the  printed  word  and  the  computer  coexist 
to  serve  the  patron.  On  the  practical  side, 
there  is  just  so  much  basic  material  that  can 
be  stored  in  a  college  library.  Our  job  is  to 
open  doors  and  windows  to  information  in 
other  libraries  through  on-line  databases." 

Throughout  his  WPI  career,  Anderson 
has  made  a  point  of  ensuring  that  Gordon 
Library  has  always  met  the  needs  of  its 
patrons.  "Three  decades  ago  a  typical  engi- 
neering student  was  taught  from  the  text 
and  the  library  wasn't  really  needed  for  un- 
dergraduate students — it  served  the  faculty 
and  the  graduate  programs. 

"With  the  implementation  of  the  WPI 
Plan,  the  whole  concept  of  learning  changed 
and  this  library  became  a  major  component 


While  it  serves  a  much  larger  constituency  than  it  did  25  years  ago, 
Gordon  Library  has  remained  a  state-of-the-art  facility  by  embracing 
the  technological  advances  of  the  computer  revolution. 


28 


Spring  1992 


in  that  element  of  education.  We  had  basic 
collections  in  the  humanities  and  social 
sciences,  but  when  the  Humanities  Suffi- 
ciency was  added  to  the  Plan  we  began  co- 
operating with  other  Worcester  academic 
libraries  so  we  could  share  materials." 

In  1968  Anderson  became  the  first  chair- 
man of  the  Worcester  Area  Cooperating 
Libraries,  a  joint  effort  of  15  academic, 
public  and  special  libraries  sponsored  by 
the  Worcester  Consortium  for  Higher  Educa- 
tion. Its  purpose  was  to  facilitate  the  sharing 
of  resources  among  member  institutions 
and  assist  in  the  introduction  of  advanced 
library  technology. 

Through  WACL,  library  patrons  now 
have  access  to  more  than  three  million 
volumes  and  serial  subscriptions.  "Since 
1974,  WP1  has  participated  in  the  Online 
Computer  Library  Center  Inc.,  the  world's 
largest  and  most  comprehensive  database 
of  bibliographic  information,"  Anderson 
says.  "The  installation  of  a  campus  com- 
puter network,  along  with  active  coopera- 
tion from  the  Institute's  College  Computer 
Center,  has  enabled  the  library  to  expand  its 


services.  Faculty  members  and  students  can 
now  'use'  the  library  from  any  location  that 
has  a  connection  to  the  network." 

"I  have  great  respect  for  Al,"  says  Susan 
Baughman,  university  librarian  at  Clark 
University's  Goddard  Library,  which  is  part 
of  the  WACL.  "He's  forward-looking,  very 
analytical,  imaginative — and  he  very  much 
believes  in  interlibrary  cooperation." 

Ever  the  pragmatist,  Anderson  views  this 
cooperation  as  a  way  to  put  patrons  in  touch 
with  as  much  information  as  they  need. 
"Worcester  is  rich  in  museums  and  libraries 
and  sources  of  information,"  he  says.  "It's 
almost  unique  to  have  so  many  colleges  in 
the  system.  We  could  not  exist  without  our 
current  programs  with  Clark,  Holy  Cross  and 
the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical  Cen- 
ter, supplemented  by  the  Worcester  Public 
Library,  Worcester  State  College,  Assumption 
College,  the  American  Antiquarian  Society 
and  the  Worcester  Art  Museum.  And,  of 
course,  we  can  go  one  step  further:  less 
than  50  miles  to  the  east  are  the  collections 
of  Harvard  and  MIT." 

As  head  librarian,  Anderson,  who  man- 


Chemical  engineering  graduate 
student  Emel  Inane  prepares 
to  peruse  a  few  of  the  350,000 
books  housed  in  Gordon  Library- 
Today,  through  a  consortium  of 
area  libraries,  students  have 
access  to  more  than  three 
million  volumes. 


ages  a  staff  of  30  and  a  budget  equal  to 
about  3  percent  of  the  total  Institute  budget, 
says  he  views  himself  as  a  catalyst.  "The 
heart  of  any  library  is  its  staff,"  he  notes. 
"They  interpret  to  a  great  degree  what  is  in 
a  collection.  They  help  build  a  collection, 
and  they  help  in  utilizing  the  collection  by 
the  patrons.  My  philosophy  is,  let  other  indi- 
viduals develop  and  let  them  set  their  mark, 
as  long  as  it  fits  within  the  confines  of  the 
library. 

"Our  librarians  have  expertise  and  inter- 
ests that  contribute  significantly  to  their 
work  here.  For  example,  Diana  Johnson 
[reference  and  interlibrary  loan  librarian] 
has  a  degree  in  chemistry;  Don  Richardson 
[reference  and  technical  reports  librarian] 
has  expertise  in  the  area  of  bibliographic  in- 
struction through  formal  and  computer  pro- 
grams; Margaret  Riley  [circulation  librarian] 
and  Deborah  LaCroix  [senior  library  associ- 
ate/cataloger]  are  musicians. 

"Lora  Brueck  [archivist,  special  collec- 
tions librarian  and  cataloger]  is  a  photogra- 
pher who  has  brought  many  interesting 
exhibits  to  campus,  and  Helen  Shuster 
[who  will  become  interim  head  librarian 
after  Anderson  steps  down]  is  an  expert 
on  automation.  Carmen  Brown  [associate 
librarian  and  head,  public  services]  ensures 
that  all  programs  benefit  the  needs  of  the 
patrons,  especially  the  students.  They  are 
the  ones  who  pay  the  bills  and  enable  us 
to  serve.  The  result  is  that  while  Gordon 
Library  is  small  and  has  a  small  staff,  it 
has  done  more  to  innovate  than  some  of 
the  larger  libraries  in  the  country." 

"Although  he  doesn't  say  too  much,  Al 
Anderson  is  very  supportive  of  his  staff," 
says  Diana  Johnson.  "My  feeling  is  that 
he  cares  about  us  very  much;  I  know  he  is 
always  open  to  new  ideas  that  are  properly 
proposed." 

Anderson  says  his  successor  faces  some 
significant  challenges.  "The  library  is  run- 


WPI  Journal 


29 


Scott  E.  Lewis  '95  receives  some  help  in  his  search  for  information  from 
reference  librarian  Joanne  L.  Williams.  Williams  and  the  library's  other  29 
staff  members  are  the  "heart  of  the  library,"  notes  director  Al  Anderson. 


ning  out  of  space.  We  need  to  expand  shelv- 
ing for  books  and  periodicals  into  the  10,000 
square  feet  of  space  on  the  lower  level  that 
was  used  by  the  College  Computer  Center 
until  Fuller  Laboratories  was  completed  in 
1990.  We  need  to  create  additional  reading 
space  for  patrons,  space  for  our  staff,  and 
space  for  the  ongoing  changes  in  technol- 
ogy. The  building  is  tired.  Its  heating  and  air- 
conditioning  system  needs  to  be  replaced, 
and  the  furniture  needs  to  be  renovated  to 
create  a  fine  aesthetic  place  that's  enjoyable 
to  be  in." 

Despite  the  challenges,  Anderson  says 
this  is  an  excellent  time  for  someone  to  step 
into  his  shoes.  "We're  on  the  cutting  edge  of 
changes  in  library  information,"  he  says. 
"The  whole  aspect  of  adapting  a  building  to 
meet  the  changing  needs  of  the  patrons  is 
exciting." 

The  new  director  will  succeed,  Anderson 
believes,  if  he  or  she  continues  the  concept 
of  the  library  "as  a  service  organization, 
with  staff  members  who  are  willing  to  adapt 
as  adaptation  is  needed,  and  willing  to  be  of 
service  to  whoever  needs  it." 

Anderson's  own  interests  are  reflected 
in  the  library's  collection  of  materials  about 
author  William  Faulkner,  which  he  describes 
as  "equal  to,  if  not  better  than,  almost  any 
other  collection  in  the  city."  It  can  also  be 
seen  in  an  excellent  art  and  architecture 
collection,  which  serves  the  Worcester  Art 
Museum,  as  well  as  art  students  at  various 
other  colleges. 


"My  opinion  of  Al  is  that  he  is  truly  a 
gentleman  in  the  accepted  aristocratic 
sense  of  the  term,"  says  Louis  J.  Curran  Jr., 
associate  professor  of  music,  who  has  been 
Anderson's  friend  since  the  librarian  first 
joined  the  staff.  "Al  has  a  splendid  eye  for 
antiquities  and  things  of  beauty,  which  is 
reflected  in  the  number  of  displays  and  exhi- 
bitions in  the  library. 

"While  he  would  never  mention  the  fact, 
Al  was  instrumental  in  preserving  the  por- 
traits of  the  college  fathers.  I  found  them  in 
disastrous  condition  in  the  Boynton  Hall 
tower.  Al  arranged  for  them  to  be  restored 
at  the  Worcester  Art  Museum  and  hung  in 
the  great  hall  of  Alden  Memorial,  where  they 
were  recently  returned  when  renovations  to 
that  building  were  completed. 

"He's  private  even  with  his  friends,  but 
is  extremely  kind,"  Curran  adds.  "He  and  his 
wife  were  a  great  help  to  me  when  I  was  in 
the  hospital  a  while  back.  He  also  has  a  pi- 
quant sense  of  humor  and  he  loves  plays 
on  words." 

Anderson  and  his  wife,  the  former  Ann 
Lee  O'Connell  of  Worcester,  live  with  their 
daughter,  a  college  student,  in  Holden, 
Mass.,  where  they  are  active  in  several  area 
organizations.  "Retiring  won't  be  any  big 
deal,"  he  says.  "I'm  looking  forward  to  it.  1 
hope  to  volunteer,  but  not  necessarily  in  the 
field  of  librarianship.  My  work  at  WPI  has 
been  very  pleasurable,  but  in  retirement  I'll 
detach  myself  from  that  and  go  into  some- 
thing totally  different." 


I  hese  days  a  good  library 
I  is  like  a  magician's  top 
hat.  While  prestidigitators  amaze  their 
audiences  by  pulling  doves,  rabbits  and 
scarves  from  tall  black  hats,  today's 
librarians  bring  forth  a  vast  universe 
of  up-to-date  information  on  virtually  any 
topic  from  a  constantly  expanding  system 
of  computers  and  electronic  networks. 

David  Cyganski  75,  professor  of  elec- 
trical engineering,  has  witnessed  the 
changes  that  the  Gordon  Library  has 
undergone  over  the  past  two  decades. 
Cyganski  enrolled  as  a  freshman  in  1972 
and  went  on  to  earn  a  bachelor's,  a 
master's  and  a  doctorate.  He  joined  the 
faculty  in  1980  and  from  1989  to  1991  was 
vice  president  for  information  systems 
and  services  and  vice  provost,  a  post  that 
included  oversight  of  the  library  budget. 

"A  good  engineer  uses  the  library 
every  day— for  research,  for  information, 
and  to  make  classroom  learning  easier 
and  more  meaningful,"  Cyganski  says. 
An  avid  reader  with  an  interest  in  a  wide 
range  of  scientific  and  technical  topics, 
as  well  as  music  and  gardening,  he  says 
he  is  probably  one  of  the  library's  biggest 
patrons.  He  borrows  books  and  has  art- 
icles copied  almost  every  day,  and  says 
he  appreciates  the  changes  Al  Anderson 
has  brought  to  Gordon  Library. 

"Nowadays,  it's  a  whole  new  world," 
says  Cyganski.  "We're  at  the  pinnacle  of 
on-line  service,  because  of  the  way  the 
library  has  embraced  the  computer.  All 
a  person  has  to  do  is  log  into  our  campus 
network  and  type  'library'  to  gain  access 
to  the  world's  largest  on-line  database. 
Without  ever  leaving  your  desk  you  can 
search  the  library's  entire  on-line  catalog 
and  the  catalogs  of  more  than  30  other 
schools.  You  can  find  out  where  a  paper 
or  publication  is  held  and  arrange  for  all 
sorts  of  materials  to  be  delivered,  faxed 
or  photocopied." 

Jeffrey  A.  Bloom  '87,  a  WPI  student 
since  1983  (he  has  completed  his  bache- 
lor's and  master's  degrees  in  electrical 
engineering,  the  latter  in  1990,  and  is  now 
working  on  his  Ph.D.),  uses  a  modem  to 
tap  into  this  wealth  of  information  from 
his  home.  He  says  the  library's  electronic 
services  have  come  a  long  way  since  his 


30 


Spring  1992 


Electronic  Sleight  of  Hand 

Brings  Users  a  Universe  of  knowledge 


Archivist  Lora  Brueck,  standing,  helps  a  student  learn  to  use  the  Gordon  Library's  on-line  catalog,  which  replaced  the 
card  catalog.  With  computers,  patrons  can  now  access  a  wide  range  of  information  from  libraries  all  across  the  country- 


early  years  as  a  graduate  student.  Back 
then,  he  notes,  only  a  few  databases  could 
be  searched  with  computers  that  were 
sometimes  difficult  to  use. 

"Because  of  those  limitations,  computers 
were  just  a  supplement  to  the  more  tradi- 
tional information  search  using  the  card 
catalog,"  he  says.  Today  the  card  catalog 
itself  is  accessed  with  a  computer. 

Cyganski  illustrates  the  speed  and  user- 
friendliness  of  the  library's  on-line  services 
by  accessing  UnCover,  a  magazine  database 
available  through  the  Institute's  computer 
network.  He  types  in  a  request  for  informa- 
tion about  Papoulis'  Generalized  Sampling 
Algorithm  and  in  less  than  10  seconds  the 
computer  searches  through  some  10,000 
journals  to  produce  a  list  of  articles  and 
their  locations. 

While  the  computer  network  allows 


him  to  spend  less  time  there  these  days, 
Cyganski  says  there  is  still  ample  reason 
to  visit  the  library  building.  "When  stu- 
dents complain  they  are  having  trouble 
understanding  their  textbooks,  I  tell  them 
to  go  to  the  library  and  look  through  other 
books  that  cover  the  same  material,"  he 
notes.  "There's  always  a  big  selection — 
there  may  be  as  many  as  150  books  on  a 
particular  topic.  I  tell  these  students  to  look 
through  these  other  books  until  they  find 
one  that  speaks  their  language,  and  to  use 
that  book  to  help  follow  the  lectures." 

Bloom  says  he's  used  the  library  in  just 
this  way.  "As  an  undergraduate,  I  appreci- 
ated being  able  to  go  to  the  audiovisual 
room  and  watch  a  lecture  on  videotape.  It 
was  a  real  help  to  be  able  to  see  a  professor 
(even  if  it  wasn't  the  one  who  was  teaching 
your  course)  explain  the  material  and  pin- 


point the  things  you  didn't  understand. 
You  could  always  rewind  the  tape  if  you 
needed  to  clarify  the  topic  or  problem." 

Cyganski  says  the  new  library  technol- 
ogy has  also  changed  the  way  he  teaches. 
"1  expect  my  project  students  to  be  able  to 
do  more — to  check  more  references — and 
as  a  result,  to  present  work  that  is  better 
considered  and  more  organized.  Being 
able  to  access  everything  everyone  else 
has  done  on  a  particular  topic  allows  you 
to  be  more  original.  It's  bound  to  lead  to 
better  projects. 

"You  know,"  he  adds,  "Stanislaw  Ulam 
said  that  the  most  difficult  unsolved  prob- 
lem in  mathematics  is  knowing  whether 
someone  has  solved  it  before.  In  this  age 
of  library  science,  the  computer  is  helping 
users  tackle  that  dilemma." 

— Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


WPI  Journal 


31 


FINAL  WORD 


Lighting  a  Fire  in  Young  Minds 


It  looks  like  Dean  L.  Kamen  73 
will  have  to  change  his  busi- 
ness cards.  The  cards  identify 
him  as  Dean  Kamen,  N.D.  The 
N.D.,  he  says,  stands  for  no  de- 
gree, but  the  41-year-old  entre- 
preneur and  science  educator 
recently  received  an  honorary 
doctorate  in  engineering  from 
the  institution  he  left  two  de- 
cades ago  before  finishing  his 
bachelor's  degree  in  physics. 

In  awarding  such  a  presti- 
gious honor  to  one  so  young, 
WPI  recognized  both  Kamen's 
impressive  professional  accom- 
plishments and  his  commitment 
to  helping  young  people  learn 
about  the  excitement  of  scientific 
discovery  and  the  joy  of  creating 
new  technology  to  solve  real 
human  problems — qualities  that 
have  been  the  driving  forces  in 
his  own  career. 

Kamen  credits  at  least  some 
of  his  fascination  with  science 
and  engineering,  as  well  as  his 
love  of  hard  work,  to  his  father,  a 
free-lance  cartoonist  and  illustra- 
tor, and  his  mother,  a  teacher  of 
bookkeeping  and  accounting 
(both  help  out  today  with  his 
various  businesses).  Jack  and 
Evelyn  Kamen  encouraged  all 
four  of  their  children  to  indulge 
their  imaginations  and  natural  curiosity 
about  the  world. 

More  often  than  not,  while  their  friends 
read  comic  books  and  played  baseball, 
Dean  and  his  older  brother,  Bart  (now  a 
physician),  could  be  found  in  the  cellar  of 
the  family  home  on  Long  Island  with  their 
Erector  Sets,  model  trains,  slot  cars,  chem- 
istry sets,  photographic  equipment  and 
electronics. 

By  the  time  he  enrolled  at  WPI  in  1969, 


Successful  entrepreneur  Dean  Kamen  wants  to  help  young 
people  know  the  joys  and  rewards  of  science  and  technology 


Kamen's  curiosity  and  imagination  had 
already  begun  to  bear  fruit.  With  Bart's 
help,  he  designed  a  portable  medical  infu- 
sion pump  called  the  Auto  Syringe.  The 
device  gives  diabetics  and  other  patients 
whose  lives  depend  on  frequent  doses  of 
medication  a  greater  degree  of  freedom. 
It  also  lets  the  terminally  ill  receive  pain- 
killing  drugs  in  their  own  homes.  In  hospi- 
tals, the  pump  relieves  nurses  from  having 
to  constantly  monitor  transfusion  patients. 


As  news  of  Auto  Syringe 
spread  through  the  medical 
literature,  the  product  became 
a  huge  success  and  Kamen 
found  he  was  spending  too  much 
time  running  his  business  to 
attend  classes.  Still,  he  managed 
to  engage  selected  professors  in 
spontaneous  four-hour  discus- 
sions in  their  offices.  (He  and 
Harold  W  Hilsinger,  associate 
professor  of  physics,  still  brain- 
storm occasionally.) 

The  business  soon  outgrew 
the  family  basement,  so  Kamen 
moved  it  first  to  a  nearby  indus- 
trial park,  and  then  to  Hooksett, 
N.H.  In  1982  he  sold  Auto  Syringe 
in  a  multimillion-dollar  deal  to 
Baxter  Health  Care  Corp.,  a  sub- 
sidiary of  Baxter  International, 
but  he  kept  the  research  and 
development  end  of  the  busi- 
ness, named  DEKA  Research  and 
Development  Corp.,  and  set  up 
shop  in  Manchester,  N.H. 

Kamen  also  owns  three 
buildings  in  Manchester's  old 
Amoskeag  millyards,  as  well  as 
Telectrol  Systems,  which  manu- 
factures energy  management, 
automation  control  and  digital 
control  systems,  and  Enstrom 
Helicopter,  a  Menominee,  Mich., 
company  that  builds  helicopters 
sold  and  serviced  by  companies  around 
the  country,  including  Copters  Unlimited 
in  Laconia,  N.H.,  which  Kamen  owns. 

In  1986  he  purchased  North  Dumpling 
Island  off  the  Connecticut  coast.  He  rents 
the  two-acre  island,  which  has  a  renovated 
lighthouse  with  its  own  desalinization 
plant  and  generator  and  a  replica  of 
Stonehenge  built  by  a  former  owner,  to 
corporations  and  individuals  for  confer- 
ences and  other  events.  To  them,  Kamen 


32 


SPRING  1992 


is  Lord  Dumpling,  who  edits  his  own 
tongue-in-cheek  newspaper,  issues  visas, 
and  even  prints  his  own  currency,  called 
dumplings. 

Although  he  is  king  of  his  own  island, 
Kamen  has  down-to-earth  ideas  on  how  to 
boost  interest  in  science  and  technology  in 
the  United  States.  All  of  the  income  he  real- 
izes from  renting  his  island  is  used  to  fund 
U.S.  FIRST  (Foundation  for  Inspiration  and 
Recognition  of  Science  and  Technology),  an 
organization  he  founded  in  1989.  Designed 
along  the  lines  of  the  U.S.  Olympic  Commit- 
tee, the  not-for-profit  alliance  of  business, 
education  and  government  leaders  seeks  to 
promote  science  and  mathematics  literacy 
by  sponsoring  special  events  for  young 
people  across  the  country. 


Kamen  and  associate  professor  Harold 
a  long  talk  about  physics  since  Kamen' 


Recently,  it  held  the  first  Maize  Craze, 
through  which  dozens  of  companies  and 
universities — including  AT&T,  Boeing, 
IBM,  Xerox,  Harvard,  MIT  and  WPI— 
adopted  high  schools  in  their  communi- 


Nicole  Weiner,  center,  and  Scot  Trudeau,  right,  of  the  Doherty  High  School  team 
watch  as  their  robot's  take  of  tennis  balls  is  tallied  during  the  Maize  Craze. 


W.  Hilsinger  (left)  have  shared  many 
s  days  as  an  undergraduate  at  WPI. 


ties.  Engineers  from  each  institution 
helped  students  design  and  build  remote- 
controlled  vehicles  made  from  kits  of 
motors,  controllers  and  related  materials 
provided  by  U.S.  FIRST.  The  vehicles 
competed  in  Manchester  to  see  which 
could  pick  up  the  most  tennis  balls  in  a 
set  amount  of  time  while  maneuvering 
across  a  floor  littered  with  cracked  corn. 

First  place  went  to  the  Clinton  (Mass.) 
High  School  team  sponsored  by  NYPRO 
Inc.,  whose  president,  Gordon  B.  Lankton, 
is  a  WPI  trustee.  In  second  place  was  a 
team  from  Doherty  High  School  in  Wor- 
cester, which  was  sponsored  by  WPI. 
The  winners  received  their  awards  from 
D.  Allan  Bromley,  science  and  technology 
advisor  to  President  Bush,  and  the  Clinton 
team  was  invited  to  the  White  House  to 
meet  with  the  president. 

Kamen  also  founded  the  Science 
Enrichment  Encounters  Museum  (SEE)  at 
his  Technology  Center  in  Manchester.  He 
says  the  museum  is  his  way  of  sharing 
with  young  people  his  passion  for  the 
natural  world.  An  avid  reader  of  the  origi- 
nal works  of  scientists  like  Archimedes, 
Galileo  and  Newton,  Kamen  says  he  wants 
to  persuade  a  new  generation  of  children 
that  superconductors  can  be  just  as  inter- 
esting as  the  Super  Bowl.  "If  I  could  con- 
vince children  who  are  enamored  of 
football  to  pursue  science  first,  later  they 
could  buy  the  NFL  and  put  it  in  their  back- 
yard," he  says. 

Kamen  says  his  own  goal  in  life  is  far 
removed  from  the  NFL  or  even  the  success 
of  his  own  bustling  business  empire.  "I 
hope  when  I  die  that  I  will  leave  the  world 
with  significantly  less  ignorance,"  he  says. 

— Ruth  Trask 


Inside: 

A  tribute  to  discovery  and  the 
many  WPI  alumni  who,  as 
scientists  and  inventors,  are 
opening  up  new  frontiers  of 
knowledge  and  understand- 
ing, and  proving  that— 500 
years  after  Columbus  first 
set  sail— there  is  no  short- 
age of  unknown  territory      , 
yet  to  explore. 


INSTITUTE 


SUMMER  1992 


>9: 


*.> 


New  Worlds 
Of  Computing 


WPI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCV  NO.  3    SUMMER  1992 


10 


15 


20 


26 


CONTENTS 


The  Soul  of  a  New  Center  Diane  Benison 
WPI's  new  Center  for  High-Performance  Computing  has  catapulted  the 
Institute  into  the  big  leagues  of  computer  research  and  development. 
Here's  the  story  of  the  center's  birth  and  of  its  mission  to  transfer  high- 
power  computing  technology  into  industry. 

Divide  and  Conquer  Michael  Dorsey 

How  do  you  build  a  computer  that  can  process  a  trillion  instructions  in  the 
blink  of  an  eye?  The  answer  is  massive  parallelism — splitting  up  problems 
among  hundreds  or  even  hundreds  of  thousands  of  individual  processors. 

First,  Do  No  Harm   Diane  Benison 

Organ  transplants.  Hospital  crash  carts.  Genetic  therapy.  The  high  technology 
that  has  permeated  the  practice  of  medicine  has  altered  the  age-old  relation- 
ship between  physician  and  patient— and  not  for  the  better,  says  bioethicist 
Thomas  A.  Shannon. 

Meeting  the  Need  to  Lead  Francis  C.  Lutz 

In  his  first  address  to  incoming  freshmen  as  dean  of  undergraduate  studies, 
Lutz  offers  a  personal  vision  of  the  Institute's  unique  educational  program  and 
its  potential  to  prepare  students  to  take  on  the  challenges  of  a  new  age  and  a 
changing  world. 


DEPARTMENTS 

Z     Advance  Word:  A  Trillion  Here,  A  Trillion  There.   Michael  Dorsey 

3  Letters:  Where  Does  the  Money  Go?;  Hitting  the  Ceiling. 

4  Investigations:  Making  Cancer  Killers  Deadlier;  Probing  Shrimp  Genetics; 
Improving  Laser  Eye  Protection.   Michael  Dorsey 

0     Explorations:  Engineering  a  Roller  Coaster;  Flying  by  the  Power  of  the  Sun; 
Making  a  Warehouse  More  Efficient.   Bonnie  Gelbwasser 

32     Final  Word:  The  Nancy  Drew  of  the  Crime  Lab.   Ruth  Trask 


Front  Cover  A  supercomputer  was  used  to  assemble  this  view  of  Venus  from  data  sent  back  to 
Earth  by  the  Magellan  probe.  Building  the  next  generation  of  high-performance  computers  is  the 
goal  of  WPI's  new  Center  for  High-Performance  Computing.  Story  on  page  10.  Photo  courtesy  of 
NASA.  Opposite:  A  summer  scene  in  front  of  the  "Wedge"  between  Daniels  and  Morgan  halls.  Photo 
by  Janet  Woodcock.  Back  Coven  Alumni  of  the  classes  of  1 942  and  earlier  enjoy  the  annual  50-Year 
Associates  Dinner  in  the  great  hall  of  the  newly  renovated  Alden  Memorial  during  Reunion  in  June. 
Watch  for  a  photo  essay  on  the  restoration  of  Alden  early  next  year.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Carol  Hoyle  Ballard 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Geary  71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82 

•  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  •  William  R.  Grogan  '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams  '50  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128) 
is  published  quarterly  for  the  WPI  Alumni  Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second  class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  MA,  and  additional  mailing  offices. 
Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence 
to  the  Editor,  WPI  Journal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  mail  (Internet):  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu. 
Postmaster:  If  undeliverable,  please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  "'1992,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


ADVANCE  WORD 


A  Trillion  Here,  A  Trillion  There. . . 


T 

I   he  late  Senator  Everett 

I  Dirksen  is  alleged  to 
A  have  said  once,  "A  bil- 
lion here  and  a  billion  there 
and  pretty  soon  you're  talking 
big  money."  Maybe  it's  infla- 
tion, or  perhaps  it's  the  nature 
of  progress,  but  a  billion  just 
isn't  what  it  used  to  be. 

Once  upon  a  time  Ameri- 
cans gasped  at  multibillion- 
dollar  federal  budgets;  now 
our  budget  deficits  alone  run 
into  billions — some  400  bil- 
lion at  last  report.  As  for  the 
budgets  themselves,  they've 
already  broken  through  the 
$1  trillion  mark  and  they 
show  no  signs  of  stopping 
there.  Major  corporations  now 
measure  their  revenues  in 
billions  of  dollars,  tapping  into  markets  for 
consumer  electronics,  cars  and  computers 
that  run  well  into  the  trillion-dollar  range. 

It  seems  that  if  you  want  attention 
these  days,  you'd  better  be  talking  tril- 
lions. That  is  especially  true  in  science. 
Chemists  once  seemed  content  to  measure 
things  in  parts  per  billion,  but  now  they 
routinely  hunt  down  that  one  atom  in  a 
trillion.  A  new  accelerator  under  construc- 
tion in  Texas  will  push  subatomic  particles 
along  with  an  astounding  20  trillion  elec- 
tron volts  of  energy  (assuming  it  doesn't 
get  cut  out  of  that  $1  trillion-plus  federal 
budget).  And,  as  you'll  read  in  our  cover 
story,  computer  scientists  are  now  souping 
up  their  computation  engines  with  hopes 
of  breaking  the  trillions-of-instructions- 
per-second  barrier. 

But  what's  most  amazing  about  this 
rush  to  count  higher,  measure  finer  and 
compute  faster  is  just  how  blase  we've 
become  about  really  big  numbers.  As  we 
casually  bandy  about  the  latest  federal 
budget  proposal  or  the  newest  advance  in 
scientific  technology,  do  we  really  know 
what  we're  talking  about?  Does  anyone 
truly  know  how  big  a  trillion  is? 


It  may  simply  be  beyond  our  capacity  to  visualize  very  large 
numbers  like  the  100  billion  stars  in  the  known  universe  or  the 
trillions  of  instructions  high-performance  computers  may  soon 
be  able  to  process  in  the  space  of  a  second. 

Sure,  on  paper  it  seems  simple.  A  trillion 
is  1012  or  the  number  1  followed  by  12 
zeros.  Looked  at  another  way,  it's  a  million 
million  or  a  thousand  billion.  But  frankly, 
knowing  that  doesn't  make  it  any  easier  to 
visualize.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  it  simply 
requires  more  imagination  than  the  human 
brain  can  muster. 

It  would  seem  we  are  most  comfortable 
with  numbers  we  can  see.  For  example,  on 
a  clear,  dark  night  you  can  see  up  to  6,000 
stars  with  the  naked  eye  (depending  upon 
how  good  your  naked  eye  is).  That's  a 
reasonably  big  number,  but  you  can  still 
see  it.  There  they  are — 6,000  stars.  But  tell 
someone  that  there  are  another  100  billion 
stars  out  there  in  the  known  universe  that 
he  can't  see,  and  you  may  as  well  be  talking 
about  the  number  of  angels  dancing  on  the 
head  of  a  pin. 

In  cases  like  this,  science  writers  natu- 
rally turn  to  comparisons.  For  big  numbers, 
the  comparison  of  choice  seems  to  take  the 
form,  "if  a  trillion  objects  (bricks,  volley- 
balls,  science  writers)  were  laid  end-to-end 
or  stacked  like  cordwood,  how  far  would 
they  stretch?"  In  his  delightful  children's 
book,  How  Much  is  a  Million?,  David  M. 


Schwartz  uses  this  and 
other  approaches. 

In  words  and  illustra- 
tions, Schwartz  tells  his 
young  readers  that  a  mil- 
lion kids  perched  on  one 
another's  shoulders  would 
stand  more  than  46  times 
taller  than  the  highest  plane 
has  ever  flown;  a  billion  kids 
would  stretch  three  times  as 
far  as  the  Moon;  a  trillion 
kids  would  nearly  reach  the 
rings  of  Saturn.  What  if  you 
wanted  to  count  to  a  trillion? 
Schwartz  asks.  Well,  count- 
ing to  a  million  would  take 
23  days.  Counting  to  a  billion 
would  take  about  95  years. 
And,  if  you  could  keep  count- 
ing for  more  than  190,000 
years,  you  might  just  reach  a  trillion. 

It's  pretty  clear  that  no  matter  what 
comparison  you  choose,  you've  got  to  use 
some  pretty  big  numbers  or  expansive 
concepts  to  convey  the  idea  of  a  trillion. 
Just  how  far  are  the  rings  of  Saturn,  any- 
way? (They're  about  800  million  miles 
away  from  Earth,  in  case  you  didn't  know 
— it  took  the  first  Voyager  probe  38  months 
to  reach  them).  How  long  is  190,000  years? 
Of  you  could  go  back  that  far  in  time  you'd 
find  Homo  sapiens  still  in  the  process  of 
evolving  from  our  ancestral  species  on 
the  plains  of  Africa.) 

Perhaps  it  is  enough  simply  to  be 
amazed  by  concepts  like  a  trillion — to 
know  that  they  are  beyond  our  ability 
to  understand  (which  is,  in  itself,  a  sort 
of  understanding).  Perhaps  by  over- 
analyzing,  we  lose  the  sense  of  childlike 
wonderment  that  goes  along  with  thinking 
about  the  astounding  scale  (both  small 
and  large)  of  the  universe  around  us.  As 
playwright  Eugene  lonesco  once  wrote, 
"Explanation  separates  us  from  astonish- 
ment, which  is  the  only  gateway  to  the 
incomprehensible." 

—Michael  Dorsey 


Summer  1992 


ffim^^^^MaBi^^BBgBWMBSBBiaflBSHWBMlMKl^JWIIilllilll  IIIHIflll'lgBB8Heaa^WB3HB«pa^W«B 


"Where  is  the  Money  Going?" 


To  the  Editor: 

I  am  truly  amazed  at  the  lack  of  outcry 
about  the  way  WPI  spends  its  money. 
Either  nobody  reads  the  Journal,  or  no- 
body really  cares.  I'm  not  sure  which  I  find 
more  frightening. 

In  the  Winter  1992  issue  I  found  an 
article  entitled  "Climbing  Between  the 
Peaks."  In  it  I  discovered  yet  another  pitch 
to  alumni  for  more  money.  The  justification 
presented  was  incredibly  weak.  However, 
what  really  disturbed  me  was  Table  2 
(reprinted  here).  WPI's  endowment  has 
increased  by  roughly  6  percent  per  year  in 
constant  dollars  since  1985! 

That  means  endowment  funds  have 
increased  by  over  $2  million  each  year 
after  inflation  is  accounted  for.  Tuition 
revenue  has  increased  by  almost  8  per- 
cent each  year  after  inflation!  And  still 
our  beloved  alma  mater  cannot  make  ends 
meet.  Where  is  the  money  going?  Indus- 
try salaries  have  not  even  come  close  to 
keeping  pace,  before  inflation.  Entry-level 
salaries — in  constant  dollars — have  actu- 
ally decreased  over  the  same  period. 

In  the  Summer  1991  issue  of  the  Journal 
I  found  an  article  that  proudly  trumpeted 
WPI's  $450,000  landscaping  budget.  Even 
at  the  ludicrous  current  tuition  rate,  a 


Hitting  the  Ceiling 

To  the  Editor: 

The  Spring  1992  issue  was  an  excellent  one. 
I  particularly  enjoyed  your  series  "The  Dis- 
coverers." But  I  was  seriously  jarred  when 
I  came  across  the  term  "ceiling  wax" 
(page  5,  column  2). 

I'll  grant  that  sealing  wax  (once  widely 
used  to  seal  letters,  batteries,  jars  and, 
possibly,  vacuum  systems)  is  not  often 
seen  these  days.  But  how  often  do  you 
see  anyone  waxing  a  ceiling? 

I  hope  there  are  a  few  literate  engineers 
still  around,  and  that  I'm  not  the  only  one 
who  noticed. 

Charles  H.  Chandler  '84 
Lexington,  Mass. 


Table  2.    SOME  REPRESENTATIVE  CHANGES 

IN  ASSETS,  REVENUE  AND  EXPENDITURES  AT  WPI 


FY1985* 
(in  millions 
of  dollars) 


FY1991* 
(in  millions  Change 

of  dollars)  (in  percent) 

Endowment 38.2 51.3 34.3 

Tuition/Fees  Revenue 12.4 18.3 47.6 

Total  Revenues 27.3 32.7 19.7 

Instruction  &  Library 7.8 10.1 29.5 

Financial  Aid 3.9 6.3 61.5 

Operations  and 
Plant  Maintenance 2.2 2.2 0 

"Constant  dollars,  Basis:  1978 


(Source:  1990-91  WPI  Annual  Report) 


50  percent  cut  in  landscaping  would  pay 
for  10  full  scholarships.  I  have  been  told 
the  landscaping  is  necessary  to  attract 
students.  I  suggest  the  best  way  to  in- 
crease enrollment  is  to  reduce  tuition. 

In  times  of  recession,  real-world  organi- 
zations must  carefully  consider  and  priori- 
tize their  spending.  Everything  must  be 
evaluated  for  its  contribution  to  the  core 
business.  If  you  are  truly  planning  for 
future  growth,  you  should  first  market 
your  organization  carefully.  What  could 
be  a  better  marketing  tool  than  a  satisfied 
alumnus?  I  suspect  alumni  are  responsible 
for  far  more  enrollments  than  shrubs  or 
stone  monuments. 

Second,  you  should  invest  only  in 
facilities  and  tools  directly  related  to 
current  production,  as  well  as  in  research 
devoted  to  advancing  your  future  busi- 
ness. I'm  sure  a  renovated  Alden  Memorial 
will  be  beautiful,  but  how  does  it  contrib- 
ute to  engineering  and  science  education? 
Alden  is  a  fringe  benefit,  not  a  prerequisite. 

The  third  thing  you  should  do  is  care- 
fully invest  in  areas  that  will  produce 
revenue  indefinitely.  A  large  portion  of 
WPI's  income  comes  from  alumni.  Why 
not  invest  in  programs  that  produce  more 
alumni?  How  much  income  does  Alden 
Memorial  generate  yearly?  How  much 
will  we  get  from  the  new  headstone  on 
Institute  Road? 

In  my  opinion,  the  priorities  for  spend- 
ing should  be  (1)  student  financial  aid  or 
tuition  reduction,  (2)  faculty  compensa- 
tion, (3)  direct-impact  facilities  such  as 


classrooms,  laboratories  and  student 
housing,  and  (4)  administrative  expenses. 
All  other  items  are  optional,  and  should 
be  paid  for  by  alumni  who  think  them 
important. 

I  believe  WPI  is  not  being  managed 
responsibly.  I  call  on  the  administration 
to  justify  how  it  can  spend  millions  of 
dollars  each  year  on  things  like  landscap- 
ing and  marble  facades  when  there  are 
thousands  of  bright,  creative  kids  in 
desperate  need  of  scholarship  aid. 

If  there  is  not  enough  money  to  go 
around,  I  recommend  administrative  staff 
and  salary  cuts.  That's  what  we  are  facing 
in  industry  today.  When  intelligent 
businesspeople  are  short  on  resources, 
they  cut  overhead,  not  production.  If 
WPI's  administrators  cannot  find  a  way  to 
live  on  a  budget  that  increases  every 
year — even  after  inflation — they  should 
resign  in  favor  of  others  with  the  neces- 
sary competence.  I  might  suggest  that 
future  hirings  be  made  from  industry, 
rather  than  academia.  WPI  could  use  a 
large  dose  of  real-world  expertise. 

If  you  agree,  I  suggest  you  contact  the 
administration  and  let  them  know.  Con- 
sider designating  your  contributions  to 
WPI  for  financial  aid  only.  If  you  disagree, 
contact  them  anyway.  They  need  to  know 
someone  is  keeping  an  eye  on  them.  The 
time  for  fiscal  responsibility  at  WPI  has 
come,  and  it's  going  to  be  here  for  a  good 
long  while. 

Peter  M.  Schoonmaker  '80 
Woburn,  Mass. 


WPI  JOURNAL 


INVESTIGATIONS 


Making  Cancer  Killers  Even  Deadlier 


While  the  many  forms  of  cancer 
that  can  attack  the  human  body 
remain  major  killers,  treat- 
ments that  employ  carefully  administered 
doses  of  radiation  or  chemical  agents  have 
proven  highly  effective  in  destroying  tumors 
and  prolonging  the  lives  of  cancer  victims. 
But  the  success  of  radiotherapy  and  chemo- 
therapy strongly  depend  upon  the  degree 
to  which  tumor  cells  are  oxygenated,  a  con- 
dition that  has  proven  difficult  to  either 
measure  or  control. 

With  a  three-year,  $180,000  grant  from 
the  Biomedical  Engineering  Research  Grants 
Program  of  The  Whitaker  Foundation  of 
Mechanicsburg,  Pa.,  Christopher  H.  Sotak, 
assistant  professor  of  biomedical  engineer- 
ing, is  developing  a  new  noninvasive  tech- 
nique for  measuring  tumor  oxygenation  that 
should  make  cancer  treatments  more  effec- 
tive. The  method  employs  magnetic  reso- 
nance (MR),  a  powerful  diagnostic  tool  that 
combines  a  strong  magnetic  field  and  radio 
waves  to  produce  highly  detailed  images  of 
the  body. 

Radiation  and  many  types  of  chemo- 
therapy are  most  effective  when  tumor  cells 
receive  adequate  levels  of  oxygen  (a  few 
chemical  agents  actually  work  best  when 
oxygen  levels  are  low).  Radiotherapy  works 
by  removing  electrons  from  the  DNA  of 
tumor  cells.  If  molecular  oxygen  is  present, 
it  binds  to  the  sites  from  which  the  elec- 
trons were  removed,  preventing  the  cells 
from  either  carrying  on  life-sustaining  func- 
tions or  reproducing. 

Unfortunately,  the  rapid  growth  of  most 
tumors  outpaces  the  ability  of  the  body  to 
supply  them  with  oxygen.  As  a  result,  cancer 
cells  that  are  not  near  blood  vessels  tend 
to  be  oxygen  deprived,  a  condition  known 


CF,-CF,-CF,-CF, 


CF,-CF,-CF,-CF, 


Above,  Sotak  in  WPI's  Magnetic  Resonance  Imaging  Laboratory.  Below,  the 
magnetic  resonance  spectrum  for  a  perfluorinated  hydrocarbon.  This  spec- 
trum changes  in  response  to  changes  in  tissue  oxygenation,  making  these 
compounds  ideal  noninvasive  probes  for  this  parameter,  which  can  affect 
the  success  of  cancer  treatments. 


as  hypoxia.  To  overcome  this  problem, 
radiotherapy  is  usually  administered  in  a 
series  of  doses,  with  the  first  dose  killing 
well-oxygenated  cells  that  lie  near  blood 
vessels  and  subsequent  doses  attacking 
more  distant  layers  of  previously  hypoxic 
(and  hence  radioresistant)  tumor  cells  that 
frequently  become  reoxygenated  after  the 
death  of  the  intervening  cells. 

"The  problem  is,"  Sotak  says,  "tumors 
reoxygenate  at  different  rates.  The  ideal 
time  to  administer  another  dose  could  be 
several  hours  later  or  several  days  later. 
We'd  like  to  be  able  to  monitor  the  time 
course  of  reoxygenation  and  determine 
the  most  efficacious  time  to  administer 
subsequent  doses." 

To  increase  the  effectiveness  of  any 
one  dose  of  radiation,  physicians  can  use 
chemicals  called  adjuvants  that  prepare  the 
tumor  by  increasing  the  oxygen  flow  to  the 
hypoxic  cells.  But  gauging  the  effectiveness 
of  adjuvants  in  the  laboratory  has  proven 
a  difficult,  laborious  process  and  their 
effectiveness  in  actual  practice  is  not  well 
understood,  Sotak  says. 

Using  the  method  he  is  developing  in 
WPI's  Magnetic  Resonance  Imaging  Labora- 
tory at  the  Massachusetts  Biotechnology 


Research  Park  in  Worcester,  Sotak  says  it 
should  be  possible  to  accurately  monitor 
changes  in  tumor  oxygenation  after  an  adju- 
vant is  administered  and  determine  the  opti- 
mal time  after  its  injection  to  start  radiation. 

Sotak's  method  makes  use  of  chemicals 
called  perfluorinated  hydrocarbons,  which, 
because  they  can  dissolve  up  to  50  percent 
of  their  own  weight  in  molecular  oxygen, 
have  been  employed  for  many  years  as  arti- 
ficial blood  substitutes.  When  administered 
as  emulsions  in  large  doses,  perfluorinated 
hydrocarbons  will  accumulate  in  the  reticu- 
loendothelial system  of  the  liver,  spleen  and 
bone  marrow.  But  they  are  also  captured  by 
macrophages,  cells  that  protect  the  body 
from  infection  and  foreign  particles. 

Because  macrophages  tend  to  congre- 
gate at  the  sites  of  tumors,  Sotak  in  earlier 
research  was  able  to  use  perfluorinated  hy- 
drocarbons as  contrast  agents — chemicals 
that  make  tumors  stand  out  more  readily  in 
MR  images.  But  what  makes  them  especially 
valuable  in  his  current  research  is  the  fact 
that  a  property  of  the  signal  they  emit  in  an 
MR  scanner  is  directly  proportional  to  the 
amount  of  oxygen  in  the  tissue  surrounding 
them.  That  makes  them  ideal  noninvasive 
probes  for  measuring  tumor  oxygenation. 


Summer  1992 


In  work  already  completed,  Sotak  and 
a  team  of  graduate  students  that  includes 
Paul  S.  Hees  (who  will  receive  his  Ph.D.  in 
biomedical  engineering  from  WPI  this  sum- 
mer), Bernard  J.  Dardzinski,  and  Limin  Li, 
a  postdoctoral  fellow  in  physics,  have  used 
perfluorinated  hydrocarbons  to  measure 
oxygen  levels  in  tumors  and  have  moni- 
tored changes  in  tumor  oxygenation  follow- 
ing the  administration  of  nicotinamide,  an 
adjuvant  for  radiotherapy. 

"We've  convinced  ourselves  that  the 
method  works  and  that  we  can  measure 
physiologically  relevant  changes  in  oxygen 
tension  as  a  result  of  administering  these 
pharmaceuticals,"  Sotak  says.  The  next 
steps  will  be  to  study  additional  adjuvants 
and  then  to  begin  looking  at  how  oxygen- 
ation within  tumors  changes  after  radiation 
or  chemotherapy  are  administered,  he  adds. 

The  studies  Sotak's  research  team  has 
done  to  date  have  employed  a  technique 
called  magnetic  resonance  spectroscopy, 
which  measures  the  average  oxygenation 
level  for  an  entire  tumor.  Since  oxygen 
levels  can  vary  widely  within  the  same 
tumor— a  fact  that  may  prove  vital  in  plan- 
ning a  course  of  radio-  or  chemotherapy— 
Sotak  is  also  developing  a  method  that  will 
display  a  color-coded,  two-dimensional  map 
of  tumor  oxygenation  throughout  a  tumor. 
This  technique  should  prove  useful  in  eval- 
uating spatial  differences  in  the  response 
of  a  tumor  to  treatment. 

The  ultimate  goal  of  the  project,  Sotak 
says,  is  to  translate  the  new  technique  and 
the  software  for  displaying  the  oxygen  map 
from  WPI's  research  machine  to  the  larger 
MR  scanners  used  in  clinical  practice.  To 
help  make  this  transition,  Sotak  will  work 
with  Dr.  Thomas  Griffin,  director  of  clinical 
research  in  the  oncology  division  of  the 
University  of  Massachusetts  Medical 
School,  who  serves  as  a  consultant  on  the 
work  funded  by  The  Whitaker  Foundation. 

Once  in  routine  use,  perfluorinated 
hydrocarbons  should  prove  valuable  in 
the  evaluation  of  a  host  of  other  medical 
conditions — including  heart  disease  and 
stroke — that  are  either  caused  by  or  result 
in  changes  in  tissue  oxygenation,  Sotak 
says.  "We  believe  this  method  will  have 
a  wide  range  of  applications,  and  should 
open  up  new  doors  for  clinical  diagnosis 
and  treatment." 

The  Whitaker  Foundation  was  estab- 
lished in  1976  by  the  late  Uncas  A.  Whitaker, 
founder  and  chairman  of  AMP  Incorporated, 
now  the  world's  leading  producer  of  electri- 
cal and  electronic  connecting  devices.  Bio- 
medical engineering  has  always  been  the 
principal  focus  of  the  foundation. 


laser  protection 
In  the  Blink  of  an  Eye 


I  lying  low  above  the  Persian  Gulf, 
a  U.S.  Navy  pilot  rolls  his  A-6  and 
descends  toward  an  unidentified 
destroyer.  As  the  plane  levels  off,  the  ship's 
crew  switches  on  a  laser  tracking  system 
and  the  beam  catches  the  pilot  squarely  in 
the  eye.  Blinded  and  in  pain,  the  airman 
loses  control  of  his  jet,  which  spirals  into 
the  gulf  and  explodes. 

While  that  scenario  is  fictional,  U.S. 
military  planners  worry  that  as  lasers  come 
to  be  employed  more  and  more  in  modern 
weapons  systems,  the  potential  for  dis- 
abling eye  injuries  among  military  person- 
nel—whether accidental  or  caused  by 
offensive  laser  devices — is  growing  apace. 
Of  equal  importance  is  the  threat  lasers 
pose  to  the  delicate  optical  sensors  often 
used  in  battlefield  equipment. 

Spurred  by  these  concerns,  the  Penta- 
gon has  been  funding  efforts  aimed  at  devel- 
oping new  forms  of  laser  eye  protection. 
This  new  technology  should  also  find  appli- 
cations in  civilian  research  laboratories,  on 
the  manufacturing  floor,  in  medical  facili- 
ties, and  in  other  places  where  lasers  are 
routinely  used. 

As  part  of  this  program,  William  G. 
McGimpsey,  assistant  professor  of  chemis- 
try, and  Stephen  J.  Weininger,  professor  of 
chemistry,  are  using  a  sophisticated  laser 
technique  to  create  chemical  compounds 


that  might  be  suitable  for  use  in  these  new 
forms  of  laser  eyewear.  Over  the  past  two 
years  McGimpsey  and  Weininger  have  re- 
ceived nearly  $200,000  in  funding  for  their 
research  from  the  U.S.  Army  Research, 
Development  and  Engineering  Center  in 
Natick,  Mass. 

One  of  the  goals  of  this  work  is  to  de- 
velop eye  protection  that  overcomes  the 
limitations  of  laser  goggles  now  commonly 
worn  to  protect  the  eyes  from  exposure  to 
laser  beams.  "Laboratory  eye  protectors 
use  colored  filters  to  block  out  the  intense 
light  produced  by  lasers,"  McGimpsey 
says.  "Unfortunately,  these  goggles  greatly 
reduce  the  amount  of  light  that  reaches 
the  eye  and  may  also  prevent  a  pilot  or 
soldier  from  seeing  certain  colors,  with 
potentially  dangerous  results." 

In  addition,  McGimpsey  says,  conven- 
tional laser  goggles  can  block  only  selected 
frequencies  of  light.  Since  many  weapons 
systems  now  employ  lasers  that  can  be 
quickly  tuned  to  any  of  hundreds  of  frequen- 
cies, the  Pentagon  wants  to  develop  laser 
eyewear  that  can  block  a  broad  spectrum. 

"Ideally,  these  goggles  should  be  clear 
in  normal  light,"  Weininger  adds,  "but 
when  struck  by  the  beam  from  any  laser 
should  darken  enough  to  cut  light  trans- 
mission by  a  factor  of  about  10,000.  Then, 
just  as  quickly,  they  should  become  clear 


Weininger,  left,  and  McGimpsey  in  the  Laser  Flash  Photolysis  Laboratory. 
McGimpsey  holds  a  sample  of  a  compound  being  evaluated  for  its  potential 
use  in  a  new  form  of  laser  eye  protection. 


WPI  Journal 


again.  This  should  all  happen  within  a  few 
trillionths  of  a  second,  so  the  person  wear- 
ing the  goggles  won't  even  know  anything 
has  happened." 

Finding  chemicals  that  will  meet  those 
stringent  requirements  is  a  daunting  task, 
McGimpsey  says.  To  test  candidates,  he 
and  Weininger  are  using  a  technique  called 
two-photon-induced  photoelectron  trans- 
fer. The  technique  takes  advantage  of  the 
fact  that  the  coherent  light  from  a  laser  is 
far  more  intense  than  normal  light  from 
lamps  or  the  sun  and  can  induce  chemical 
changes  that  will  occur  only  upon  laser 
irradiation. 

Working  in  the  Laser  Flash  Photolysis 
Laboratory  in  the  basement  of  Goddard 
Hall,  the  researchers  first  expose  a  chemi- 


r 


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LASER  #1 
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In  this  example,  a  laser  flash  excites  a  com- 
pound to  an  elevated  energy  state.  Before  it 
can  return  to  ground  state,  a  second  flash 
bumps  it  to  a  higher  energy  state. 


cal  sample  to  a  brief  pulse  of  laser  light. 
Molecules  in  the  sample  absorb  a  photon 
from  this  burst  and  are  excited  to  a  higher 
energy  state.  Before  the  sample  can  return 
to  its  original  ground  state,  it  is  hit  with  a 
second  laser  pulse,  which  elevates  it  to  a 
still  higher  energy  plateau. 

As  the  sample  decays  from  this  higher 
energy  state  to  the  ground  state,  it  can  un- 
dergo chemical  changes  that  don't  occur 
when  the  same  chemical  is  allowed  to  de- 
cay from  a  lower  energy  state.  While  they 
are  induced  with  two  separate  laser  bursts 
in  the  lab,  these  two-photon  reactions  can 
also  occur  when  a  chemical  absorbs  two 
photons  from  a  single  laser  exposure.  Nor- 
mal light,  on  the  other  hand,  is  too  weak  to 
cause  such  two-photon  reactions. 

The  goal,  McGimpsey  and 
■  Weininger  say,  is  to  find  chemi- 
i   cals  that  remain  clear  at  lower 
i  energy  states,  but  which  be- 
•   come  opaque  when  bumped 
]  to  a  higher  energy  state  by 
j   laser-induced  two-photon  reac- 
j  tions.  So  far,  the  chemists  have 
tested  about  a  dozen  candidate 
molecules.  To  determine  which 
organic  compounds  to  test, 
Weininger,  whose  specialty  is 
organic  chemical  synthesis, 
begins  with  the  qualities  de- 
sired in  the  final  product  and 
then  works  backward  on  pa- 
per through  the  intermediate, 
light-induced  chemical  reac- 
tions to  arrive  at  a  promising 
starting  point. 

The  chemicals  Weininger 


->l 


synthesizes  are  actually  systems  that  in- 
clude electron  donor  and  electron  acceptor 
molecules.  The  transfer  of  electrons  be- 
tween the  chemicals  in  these  systems  allows 
them  to  quickly  return  to  their  clear  ground 
states  after  they  have  been  darkened  by  la- 
ser light. 

Because  it  is  unlikely  that  any  one 
chemical  system  will  respond  to  all  frequen- 
cies of  light,  McGimpsey  and  Weininger  say 
the  goggles  that  may  ultimately  result  from 
their  work  will  probably  consist  of  multiple 
thin  layers  of  polymer,  each  of  which  will 
respond  to  a  different  frequency  or  band  of 
frequencies.  As  the  work  progresses,  they 
hope  to  begin  testing  candidate  chemical 
systems  to  see  whether  they  can  be  suc- 
cessfully incorporated  into  clear  polymers. 

McGimpsey,  who  has  been  working  with 
two-photon  reactions  for  several  years, 
says  the  techniques  he  and  Weininger  are 
using  in  this  project  have  many  other  appli- 
cations. For  example,  in  photochemical 
machining,  two  intersecting  lasers  tuned 
to  different  frequencies  can  be  used  to 
create  highly  complex  molds  by  causing 
two-photon  reactions  in  specific  areas  of 
a  polymer.  The  reactions  degrade  the 
affected  molecules,  which  can  then  be 
easily  removed,  leaving  behind  precisely 
hollowed-out  spaces. 

The  Laser  Flash  Photolysis  Laboratory 
includes  a  pulsed  Nd/YAG  laser,  a  tunable 
flashlamp-pumped  dye  laser  and  an  Exci- 
mer  laser,  all  integrated  and  controlled  by 
a  computer  system.  The  three-year-old  lab 
has  been  equipped,  in  part,  through  grants 
from  the  U.S.  Army  and  the  Petroleum 
Research  Fund. 


Genetics  and  the  Great  Shrimp  Deficit 


What  type  of  seafood  is  favored 
over  all  others  by  people  in 
every  corner  of  the  United 
States?  If  you  guess  shrimp,  you're  right. 
Each  year  Americans  gobble  up  millions 
of  pounds  of  these  squiggling  marine  crus- 
taceans. To  satisfy  that  gargantuan  appe- 
tite, huge  quantities  of  shrimp  must  be 
imported  each  year  from  other  countries. 
In  fact,  only  30  percent  of  the  shrimp  Ameri- 
cans consume  each  year  is  caught  or  grown 
in  the  U.S. 

In  part,  this  need  for  foreign  shrimp — 
a  need  that  results  in  an  annual  trade  defi- 
cit exceeding  $2  billion — is  due  to  the  fact 


that  the  species  of  shrimp  Americans 
favor— Penaeus  vannamei — grows  only  in 
warm  water  and  can,  therefore,  be  harvest- 
ed only  in  the  southernmost  states.  This  re- 
quirement for  warm  waters  has  also  limited 
shrimp  farming  in  the  U.S.  to  a  few  locations 
in  Florida,  Hawaii,  South  Carolina  and  Texas, 
with  the  result  that  only  a  tiny  fraction  of 
the  annual  U.S.  shrimp  consumption — about 
one  hundredth  of  a  percent — comes  from 
these  farms. 

To  find  a  way  to  reduce  the  annual 
shrimp  trade  deficit,  the  Gulf  Coast  Research 
Laboratory  Consortium,  a  group  of  eight  uni- 
versity and  independent  laboratories,  has 


launched  the  U.S.  Marine  Shrimp  Farming 
Program.  The  goal  of  the  consortium,  which 
includes  the  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
at  Tufts  University  in  Grafton,  Mass.,  is  to 
improve  the  productivity  of  U.S.  shrimp 
farms  by  developing  high-quality,  disease- 
resistant  strains  of  P.  vannamei  in  much  the 
same  way  that  agricultural  experts  have 
developed  robust  strains  of  poultry  and 
livestock  over  the  years.  Funding  for  the 
program  is  being  provided  by  the  U.S. 
Department  of  Agriculture. 

One  thrust  of  the  program  is  to  find 
strains  of  shrimp  that  can  resist  viral  dis- 
eases that  have  already  wiped  out  shrimp 


Summer  1992 


Buckholt,  left,  and  Bagshaw  examine  a  Southern  blot  from  the  shrimp 
Penaeus  vannamei  (the  blot  is  shown  below).  The  dark  bands  on  the  blot 
correspond  to  specific  fragments  of  DNA.  The  technique  is  used  to  look  for 
genetic  markers  in  the  shrimp  genome. 


production  in  Taiwan  and  now  threaten  not 
only  the  farming  industry  in  Southeast  Asia 
and  Central  America — the  largest  such 
operations  in  the  world — but  wild  shrimp 
populations,  as  well.  In  addition,  the  consor- 
tium hopes  to  gain  a  better  understanding 
of  the  genetics  of  P.  vannamei  in  hopes  of 
finding  genetic  markers  linked  to  qualities 
that  enhance  shrimp  growth  and  hardiness. 

Under  subcontract  to  Tufts  University, 
Joseph  C.  Bagshaw,  professor  and  head  of 
the  Biology  and  Biotechnology  Department, 
is  tackling  the  latter  task.  Bagshaw,  who  has 
spent  the  last  two  decades  studying  the  ge- 
netics of  the  genus  Artemia,  which  includes 
brine  shrimp — small  crustaceans  often  used 
as  food  in  aquaculture  and  in  home  aquari- 
ums— is  one  of  the  world's  foremost  experts 
on  crustacean  molecular  genetics. 

"I  have  a  freezer  full  of  Artemia  clones 
that  we  can  use  as  genetic  probes  in  this 


work,"  Bagshaw  says.  "I  also  know  how  to 
work  with  these  genes,  and  I  know  some 
tricks  we  can  use  to  get  these  answers 
faster."  Those  tricks  will  come  in  handy  as 
Bagshaw  and  postdoctoral  fellow  Michael 
A.  Buckholt,  who  recently  completed  his 
Ph.D.  in  biology  at  WP1,  attempt  to  locate 
suitable  markers  in  the  shrimp  genome, 
a  process  Bagshaw  likens  to  finding  a 
needle  in  a  haystack. 

"We'll  be  using  the  same  techniques 
geneticists  use  to  find  the  genes  for  hu- 
man diseases,"  Bagshaw  says.  "But  unlike 
those  searches,  where  the  basic  biochemi- 
cal defect  is  often  understood,  we  have  no 
idea  what  makes  shrimp  grow  faster  or 
larger.  We'll  have  to  do  it  pretty  much  by 
hunt  and  peck." 

In  his  research  on  Artemia,  Bagshaw 
became  the  first  geneticist  to  find  repeat- 
ed sequences — segments  of  DNA  that  are 
repeated  over  and  over 
again — in  the  genome  of  a 
crustacean,  and  he  says 
he  and  Buckholt  will  most 
likely  find  similar  sequences 
in  P.  vannamei.  If  so,  these 
sequences  might  be  employ- 
ed as  markers,  Bagshaw  says. 

A  marker  is  a  gene  that 
lies  near  the  gene  for  a  dis- 
ease or  other  characteristic 
one  is  studying.  Because  of 
their  proximity,  the  genes 
are  said  to  be  linked  because 
they  are  rarely  separated 
when  segments  of  DNA 


change  places  or  cross  over  during  cell 
division.  The  researchers  will  find  out 
how  well  the  repeated  sequences  work 
as  markers  by  seeing  if  they  are  linked  to 
genes  that  give  shrimp  the  ability  to  grow 
even  faster. 

"We'll  have  to  do  some  honest-to- 
goodness  shrimp  genetics,"  he  notes. 
"We'll  breed  the  shrimp  and  test  them  for 
the  presence  of  the  markers,  and  then  see 
which  of  the  markers  always  shows  up  in 
the  fast-growing  individuals.  It's  a  lot  of 
empirical  work." 

Once  enhanced  growth  characteristics 
can  be  linked  to  specific  markers,  Bagshaw 
says,  the  chromosomal  regions  adjacent 
to  these  markers  can  be  examined  in  more 
detail  in  an  effort  to  characterize  the  spe- 
cific genes  that  impart  those  favorable 
characteristics. 

Bagshaw  will  also  search  the  shrimp 
genome  for  a  class  of  genes  found  in  most 
organisms  that  seem  to  be  related  to 
growth.  Research  has  shown  that  small 
segments  of  these  so-called  homeotic 
genes  are  almost  identical  from  one  spe- 
cies to  another.  Using  a  technique  called 
the  polymerase  chain  reaction,  Bagshaw 
and  Buckholt  will  zero  in  on  these  seg- 
ments and  then  clone  the  regions  around 
them  many  times  over  to  get  enough  DNA 
to  study. 

"The  genes  in  these  regions  should  be 
associated  with  shrimp  growth,"  Bagshaw 
says,  "though  we  won't  know  exactly  how. 
But  they  are  obviously  going  to  be  desir- 
able markers  for  favorable  growth  charac- 
teristics." 

Armed  with  the  knowledge  that  will 
come  out  of  Bagshaw's  lab,  shrimp  farmers 
should  be  able  to  develop  new  strains  that 
will  enable  them  to  grow  more  shrimp  and 
to  get  them  to  market  faster  (the  process 
now  takes  about  six  months).  Using  similar 
techniques,  other  researchers  are  hoping 
to  find  genes  that  will  give  the  shrimp 
a  selective  resistance  to  disease.  "This 
research  should  give  the  U.S.  a  virtual 
monopoly  on  the  production  of  superior 
strains  of  high-quality,  specific-pathogen- 
free  shrimp,"  Bagshaw  says. 

But  his  research  could  be  taken  one 
step  further,  he  adds.  "1  would  like  to  think 
about  the  prospect  of  literally  genetically 
engineering  shrimp  the  way  we  now  engi- 
neer other  domestic  animals,"  he  says.  "We 
could  produce  shrimp  that  can  grow  even 
faster — maybe  even  shrimp  that  can  grow 
well  in  the  colder  waters  of  the  rest  of  the 
United  States.  1  think  this  will  be  doable 
someday." 

— Michael  Dorsey 


WPI  Journal 


EXPLORATIONS 


Designing  Better  Ups  and  Downs 

Major  Qualifying  Project  (MQP)  by  Heather  M.  Harrington  '92, 
Peter  A.  Manor  '93  and  Sean  P.  Moore  '92. 

Advisor:  Frank  D.  DeFalco,  professor  of  civil  engineering. 

It's  been  said  that  what  goes  up  must 
come  down.  That's  especially  true  of 
roller  coasters,  where  the  secret  of  a 
thrilling  ride  is  not  only  how  high  up  you 
go,  but  how  fast  you  come  down — and,  of 
course,  the  lifts,  loops,  banks  and  curls  in 
between. 

With  guidelines,  specifications  and  de- 
signs provided  by  two  roller  coaster  com- 
panies, and  with  the  benefit  of  their  own 
research  into  roller  coasters  at  Busch  Gar- 
dens, Disney  World,  and  other  theme  and 
amusement  parks,  civil  engineering  majors 
Harrington,  Manor  and  Moore  used  com- 
puter-modeled structural  analysis  and  de- 
sign techniques  to  plan  their  own  steel 
roller  coaster.  Theirs  was  one  of  three 
projects  in  civil  engineering  to  receive 
WPI's  1992  Provost's  MQP  Award. 

In  their  report,  the  students  explain 
that  it  is  not  speed  alone  (up  to  60  miles 
per  hour  in  some  rides)  that  gives  roller 
coaster  riders  that  characteristic  rush  of 
adrenaline.  Through  strategic  twists  and 
turns,  the  truly  great  rides  keep  passen- 
gers in  suspense  by  preventing  them  from 
seeing  too  far  ahead.  This  limited  line  of 
sight  provokes  screams  of  terror  and  de- 
light by  creating  the  illusion  that  the  cart  is 
about  to  collide  with  a  steel  girder  or  ca- 
reen off  the  track,  until — at  the  last  mo- 
ment— it  miraculously  veers  off  onto  a 
safer  path. 

To  design  their  roller  coaster,  the  stu- 
dents used  ISDS/STAAD,  a  structural  engi- 
neering program.  In  completing  the  design, 
they  considered  the  geometry  of  the  track, 
the  effects  of  varying  the  heights  of  the 
peaks,  the  gravitational  forces  that  would 
be  experienced  by  the  carts  and  their  pas- 
sengers, and  the  various  loads  on  the 
structure — including  those  created  by 
wind  and  ice.  They  also  had  to  think  about 
the  thrill  the  design  would  provide  riders 
and  about  the  aesthetics  of  the  finished 
product. 

"Roller  coasters  have  to  appeal  to  the 
eye  of  potential  riders,"  they  say.  "The  best 
ones  have  some  sort  of  geometry  that  will 
make  spectators  want  to  experience  the 
ride — things  like  vertical  loops  and  cork- 


screw-like sections." 

At  283  feet  long,  106  feet 
wide  and  85  feet  high,  the 
students'  roller  coaster 
would  fit  on  an  average  foot- 
ball field.  It  would  begin 
with  a  lift  and  then  a  drop  of 
more  than  73  feet,  which 
would  provide  the  momen- 
tum needed  to  propel  the 
cart  through  the  remainder 
of  the  1,202  feet  of  track. 
Traveling  at  an  average 
speed  of  25  miles  per  hour  and  hitting  a  top 
speed  of  just  over  45  miles  per  hour,  riders 
would  experience  one  vertical  and  one  hori- 
zontal loop  before  reaching  the  end. 

"Civil  engineers  most  often  deal  with 
project  management,  water  works,  the  envi- 
ronment, roads,  parks,  subdivisions  and 
bridges,"  the  students  say.  "Structural  engi- 
neering is  one  aspect  of  civil  engineering 
that  can  provide  solutions  to  a  host  of  other 


Standing,  from  left,  Manor,  Moore  and  Harrington. 
Randall  W.  Levere  '93,  seated,  created  the  sim- 
ulation seen  on  the  screen. 


construction-related  projects.  One  less 
obvious  challenge  is  the  roller  coaster." 

For  the  student  team,  the  roller  coaster 
project  was  a  chance  to  use  modern  tech- 
nology and  sound  design  principles  to 
break  new  ground.  In  their  words,  "this 
project  provided  the  opportunity  to  use  a 
civil  engineering  education  to  engineer  a 
solution  to  a  problem  that  does  not  have 
a  textbook  answer." 


Flying  by  the  Power  of  the  Sun 

MQP  by  Agnes  Chan  '92,  Kwok-Hung  Cheung  '92,  Kristin  Conley  '92,  Paul  Crivelli  '92, 
Christian  T.  Javorski  '92,  Nancy  P.  Torrey  '92,  Michael  Traver  '92,  Freddy  Mathias 
Pranajaya  '94,  Jeffrey  D.  Rembold  '93  and  Sujay  R.  Setlur  '93. 

Project  Director:  Andreas  N.  Alexandrou,  associate  professor  of  mechanical  engineering. 

Advisors:  William  W.  Durgin,  professor  of  mechanical  engineering; 

Ralph  F.  Cohn  and  David  J.  Olinger,  assistant  professors  of  mechanical  engineering. 

Graduate  Assistant:  Charlotte  Cody  '90  (master's  candidate). 


E 


nvironmental  problems  such  as  the 
depletion  of  the  ozone  layer  are  spur- 
I  ring  scientists  and  engineers  to  con- 
sider solar  power  as  an  ecologically  sensi- 
tive alternative  to  fossil  fuels  to  power 
everything  from  automobiles  to  aircraft. 
The  students,  working  in  four  teams, 
designed  and  constructed  the  Multi- 
purpose, Remotely  Piloted  Vehicle 
(MPRPV),  a  prototype  of  a  design  that 
could  be  used  in  surveillance  and  recon- 
naissance missions.  The  ultimate  goal  of 
the  plane,  which  the  students  named 
"Surya,"  the  Hindu  word  for  sun,  was  to 


demonstrate  the  effectiveness  of  solar 
power  as  an  alternative  energy  source. 

In  June  the  design  team  presented  a 
paper  on  the  MPRPV  at  the  Eighth  Annual 
Summer  Conference  of  NASA/USRA  Uni- 
versity Advanced  Engineering  Design 
Program  for  Space  and  Aeronautics. 

The  University  Advanced  Engineering 
Design  Program  brings  together  NASA  engi- 
neers and  students  and  faculty  from  engi- 
neering schools  around  the  nation  by  inte- 
grating current  and  future  NASA  engineer- 
ing design  topics  into  the  university  cur- 
riculum. Selected  universities,  including 


Summer  1992 


Saving  Time  and  Money 


MQP  by  Michael  C.  Helm  '92  and 
Elizabeth  A.  Plessis  '92. 

Advisor:  Enio  £  Velazco, 
assistant  professor  of  management. 

Sponsor  Digital  Equipment  Corp. 

Digital  Equipment  Corp.'s  Westmin- 
ster, Mass.,  facility  is  the  company's 
primary  finished  goods  distribution 
and  consolidation  center  in  the  U.S.  Be- 
cause of  the  tremendous  volume  of  trans- 
actions processed  at  this  distribution  cen- 
ter, Digital  has  been  working  for  several 
years  to  implement  time-  and  money-sav- 
ing improvements  through  its  own  total 
quality  management  program. 

To  improve  competitiveness,  the  com- 
pany must  identify  customer  requirements 
and  ensure  that  Digital  personnel  and  pro- 
cesses meet  those  needs.  In  addition  to 
producing  high-quality,  reliable  products, 
Digital  has  recognized  that  customers' 
expectations  must  include  accurate  billing 
and  fast,  safe  deliveries. 

To  address  these  issues,  Digital  has 
developed  a  methodology  called  AAT  to 
help  employees  decrease  hidden  waste 
in  manufacturing  and  administrative  pro- 
cesses. Digital  requires  that  problems  be 
addressed  and  solutions  conform  to 


ISO  9000,  a  certification  that  any  company 
planning  to  do  business  with  the  European 
Economic  Community  must  obtain. 

Helm  and  Plessis  were  the  first  to  intro- 
duce AAT  to  employees  at  the  Westminster 
warehouse.  At  the  request  of  the  sponsor, 
they  focused  on  analyzing  the  receiving 
and  storage  processes  for  incoming  mate- 
rial. In  the  course  of  their  research  they 
interviewed  engineers  and  other  Digital 
employees  working  in  the  process.  They 
also  examined  the  processes  through 
observation  and  hands-on  experience. 

The  students  separated  each  step  in 
each  process,  designed  flow  charts,  com- 
piled a  list  of  forms,  and  identified  poten- 
tial areas  for  improvement  within  each 
process — such  as  idle  time,  double  han- 
dling of  goods,  and  bottlenecks.  They  de- 
termined that  delays  in  data  entry  kept 
workers  idle  for  short  periods  of  time,  and 
that  delays  in  checking  materials  resulted 
in  bottlenecks  in  quality  control. 

Their  recommended  improvements 
included  moving  data  entry  (currently 
housed  in  separate  quarters)  to  the  ware- 
house floor  to  eliminate  lag  time  and  enable 
data-entry  employees  to  assume  more  re- 
sponsibilities. They  suggested  eliminating 
duplicate  forms,  storing  software  in  a  single 
area,  and,  ultimately,  converting  to  bar 


From  left  are  Helm,  Velazco 
and  Plessis. 

codes  to  identify  all  items  in  the  warehouse. 

"The  work  these  students  did  at  Digital 
was  of  great  value  to  the  company,"  says 
Velazco.  "Digital  was  preparing  to  be  au- 
dited for  ISO  9000  certification  at  the  time 
the  students  were  working  on  their  MQP  in 
Westminster,  and  their  findings  assisted 
the  company  in  improving  this  facility." 

"Digital  has  a  strong  policy  of  involve- 
ment with  local  universities,"  says  Ken 
Kaminsky,  a  logistics  analyst  at  Digital.  "By 
providing  students  an  opportunity  to  gain 
real  business  experience,  we  benefit  from 
their  knowledge  and  application  of  the 
latest  technologies.  This  project,  one  of 
four  our  facility  sponsored  this  year,  gave 
us  a  fresh  look  at  the  work  we  do.  It  has 
resulted  in  real  process  improvement." 


From  left  with  the  Multi-Purpose  Remotely  Piloted  Vehicle  (MPRPV)  are  Chan, 
Conley,  Traver,  Javorski,  Torrey,  Crivelli  and  Cheung. 


WPI,  are  aligned  with  various  NASA  cen- 
ters. Students  choose  design  projects  in 
consultation  with  NASA,  which  provides 
technical  expertise  and  guidance  for  the 
duration  of  the  project.  The  projects  must 


culminate  in  an  oral  presentation  at  the 
annual  conference. 

The  WPI  teams  designed  the  MPRPV  to 
perform  a  sustained  figure-8  flight  pattern 
at  an  altitude  of  50  meters  using  only  solar 


power.  Four  test  flights  at  WPI's  Alumni 
Field  were  videotaped  and  shown  during 
the  NASA  presentation. 

The  plane  was  constructed  by  hand 
using  composite  materials,  especially  a 
carbon-fiber-epoxy  laminate  selected  for 
its  strength  and  light  weight.  The  design 
resembles  a  glider  and  measures  about 
2.5  meters  from  tip  to  tail.  Its  wings  spans 
4.5  meters  and  support  120  solar  cells 
donated  by  Mobil  Solar  Corp.  The  tail  is 
constructed  of  balsa  wood  and  plastic 
foam;  its  supporting  spar  is  made  of 
carbon-fiber  composite  materials. 

"The  test  flights  demonstrated  the 
aircraft's  stability  and  controllability," 
Durgin  says.  "During  March  the  solar  angle 
became  sufficient  to  provide  energy  for 
the  maintenance  of  level  flight  with  a  slight 
reserve  for  climbing.  This  thin  power  mar- 
gin was  the  crux  of  the  design  effort.  The 
trade-off  between  solar  cell  area  and  air- 
craft weight  provided  students  a  highly 
challenging  design  constraint." 

— Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


WPI  JOURNAL 


The  Soul  of  a  New  Center 


With  the  creation  of  the  new  Center  for  High-Performance  Computing, 
WPI  has  become  a  major  player  in  the  hottest  quest  in  computing — the 
race  to  develop  a  new  generation  of  massively  parallel  high-performance 
computers  that  will  revolutionize  the  practice  of  science  and  engineering. 


By  Diane  Benison 


r 

kg  or  computer  scientists,  they  are  the  equivalent  ol 
I       the  Holy  Grail.  They  call  them  the  three  T's:  tips, 
1      terabytes  and  terabps  (pronounced  terabips).  In 
laymen's  terms,  they  translate  to  computation  speeds  in 
the  range  of  trillions  of  instructions  per  second,  memories 
capable  of  storing  trillions  of  bytes  of  information,  and 
communications  systems  that  can  send  information  over 
an  optical  fiber  at  the  rate  of  trillions  of  bits  per  second. 

In  each  case,  the  goals  are  to  increase  the  power  of 
today's  best  supercomputing  systems  by  a  factor  of  a 
few  hundred  to  a  few  thousand.  Around  the  world,  a 
small  number  of  corporate,  university  and  government 
laboratories  are  pursuing  this  dream,  hoping  to  be  the 
first  to  make  machines  and  systems  that  meet  the 
challenge  of  the  three  T's. 

In  the  United  States,  these  efforts  have  been  bolstered 
by  a  major  commitment  from  the  federal  government, 
which  sees  the  tera  race  as  a  way  to  help  America  capture 
the  lead  in  what  may  well  be  one  of  the  most  important 
technological  developments  of  the  1990s.  The  High- 
Performance  Computing  and  Communications  Initiative 
(HPCCI),  passed  by  Congress  and  signed  into  law  by 
President  Bush  late  last  year,  will  allocate  to  eight  federal 
agencies — including  the  Pentagon's  Defense  Advanced 
Research  Projects  Agency  (DARPA)— $3  billion  over  the 
next  five  years  to  fund  research  and  development  work 
in  the  three  Ts. 

One  of  the  overriding  goals  of  the  push  toward  tips, 
terabytes  and  terabps  is  the  creation  of  computing  tech- 
nology with  which  scientists  can  attack  the  "grand  chal- 
lenges." A  decade  ago,  Nobel  Laureate  Kenneth  Wilson 
drew  up  a  list  of  10  scientific  problems  whose  solutions 
will  require  computing  power  far  in  excess  of  what  is  now 
available.  In  describing  the  scope  of  the  HPCCI  last  year, 
the  president's  science  advisor,  D.  Allan  Bromley,  restated 
these  challenges.  They  include  such  massive  problems  as 
deciphering  the  human  genome,  predicting  global  climate 
change  a  century  in  advance,  and  taming  nuclear  fusion. 

In  a  far-reaching  move  last  October,  WPI  entered  the 
tera  race  (and  in  the  process,  took  a  giant  step  into  the 
national  spotlight)  when  its  Board  of  Trustees  approved 
the  creation  of  the  Center  for  High-Performance  Com- 
puting (CHPC).  With  the  birth  of  the  center,  WPI  was 
transformed  overnight  from  a  minor  player  in  high- 


performance  computing  to  a  major  player,  notes  WPI 
President  Jon  C.  Strauss. 

"Launching  CHPC  was  an  opportunity  for  WPI  to  play 
a  major  role  in  the  development  of  a  field  of  significant 
importance — not  just  to  this  institution,  but  to  our  soci- 
ety," Strauss  says.  "High-performance  computation  will 
be  one  of  the  keys  to  improving  all  aspects  of  American 
technology  for  the  next  decade  and  beyond." 

Strauss  took  part  in  a  press  conference  at  the  Massa- 
chusetts State  House  on  March  4, 1992,  during  which 
CHPC  was  formally  announced  (the  center  had  been 
placed  in  operation  earlier  in  the  year).  At  that  press 
conference,  Massachusetts  governor  William  F.  Weld  said, 
"The  Center  for  High-Performance  Computing  is  another 
example  of  how  we've  embraced  technology  transfer  in 
Massachusetts.  As  the  largest  center  of  its  kind  on  the 
East  Coast,  it  bolsters  our  national  leadership  in  this  im- 
portant initiative  and  puts  us  in  a  strong  position  to  reap 
the  best  developments  from  federal  research." 

The  center  is  the  "jewel  of  the  East  Coast  in  the  tech- 
nology transfer  movement,"  added  Steven  Tocco,  state 
economic  affairs  secretary.  "It's  a  linchpin  in  our  efforts 
to  make  sure  we  don't  get  devastated  by  the  downturn 
[in  defense  spending  in  Massachusetts]." 

CHPC  was  the  brainchild  of  David  Cyganski  75, 
professor  of  electrical  engineering  at  WPI,  and  Thomas 
A.  Probert,  the  center's  founding  director.  The  two  began 
talking  about  the  idea  last  June  when  Probert,  who  was 
then  director  of  research  for  Encore  Computer  Corp., 
learned  that  Encore,  having  acquired  the  computer  divi- 
sion of  Gould  Computer  Systems  from  Nippon  Mining  Co. 
of  Japan.,  was  planning  to  move  its  research  division 
from  Marlboro,  Mass.,  to  its  headquarters  in  Ft.  Lauder- 
dale, Fla.  Probert  says  the  company's  high-performance 
computer  research  group  was  reluctant  to  go.  When 
Encore  and  the  researchers  could  not  reach  an  agreeable 
solution,  Probert  and  Cyganski  proposed  an  alliance 
between  the  Encore  group  and  WPI. 

Prior  to  Encore's  announcement,  the  company  had 
developed  a  close  working  relationship  with  the  Institute, 
primarily  through  the  efforts  of  Cyganski  and  Probert.  For 
example,  Cyganski,  who  in  addition  to  his  faculty  position 
was  then  vice  provost  and  vice  president  for  information 
systems  and  services,  was  involved  in  WPI's  decision  to 


10 


Summer  1992 


Holding  a  prototype  of  one  of  the  products  of  the  Center  for  High-Perf ormance  Computing,  director 
Thomas  A.  Probert,  center,  poses  with  his  staff  in  the  computer  room  of  CHPC  headquarters  in 
Marlboro,  Mass.  The  center  is  developing  a  new  computer  system  that  will  process  trillions  of 
instructions  per  second. 


CHRISTOPHER  NAVIN 


purchase  three  of  Encore's  multiprocessing  computers 
and  communications  equipment  used  throughout  the 
Institute's  campuswide  computer  network.  In  addition,  he 
and  Probert,  as  liaisons  for  their  respective  institutions, 
had  begun  to  forge  links  between  Encore's  research  team 
and  researchers  at  the  university. 

In  their  conversations,  Cyganski  and  Probert  outlined 
an  arrangement  that  would  enable  the  Encore  research 
staff  to  continue  its  long-standing  relationship  with 
DARPA,  while  at  the  same  time  opening  the  door  to  fur- 
ther collaborations  in  high-performance  computing  be- 
tween Probert's  group  and  faculty  researchers,  graduate 
students  and  undergraduate  project  teams  at  WPI.  The  re- 
sult of  this  brainstorming  was  CHPC,  the  Institute's  new- 
est multidisciplinary  research  center. 

My  idea  was  that  building  a  functional,  self-supporting, 
academically  important,  multidisciplinary  research  cen- 
ter can  be  a  hell  of  an  expensive  and  risky  proposition," 
Cyganski  says.  "I  thought  this  would  be  an  interesting  test 
of  an  altogether  different  approach — and  it  has  worked.  It 
is  self-supporting.  And  it  is  contributing  to  our  academic 
excellence  in  a  variety  of  ways." 

When  the  proposal  to  acquire  the  Encore  research 
group  was  announced  on  campus,  it  received  the  quali- 
fied endorsement  of  the  faculty.  (Concerned  about 
the  financial  risks  the  center  might  pose,  the  faculty 


requested  that  those  risks  be  covered  from  the  endow- 
ment and  not  the  operating  budget.)  But  at  their  meeting 
last  fall,  the  Board  of  Trustees  decided  the  potential  ben- 
efits of  the  center  (including  increased  recognition  for  the 
Institute,  the  enhancement  of  WPI's  research  activity,  and 
the  boost  the  center  might  offer  to  the  recruitment  of  new 
faculty  members  and  students)  outweighed  the  risks,  and 
they  approved  the  center  unanimously. 

Since  CHPC  has  been  set  up  as  a  cost  center,  it  will 
derive  no  operating  funds  from  the  university;  instead  it 
will  be  supported  entirely  by  federal  and  industrial  mon- 
ies. Still,  Strauss  acknowledges  that  some  of  the  initial 
concern  about  CHPC  will  likely  linger — on  and  off  cam- 
pus— until  the  center  acquires  new  federal  contracts  and 
until  an  anticipated  growth  in  nongovernment  funding 
begins  to  occur. 

Funding,  in  fact,  was  one  of  the  key  concerns  as  the 
center  was  being  planned.  While  he  says  he  was  confident 
DARPA  would  agree  to  transfer  some  of  its  research  mon- 
ies from  Encore  to  WPI,  Probert  was  relieved  last  Novem- 
ber when  the  agency  announced  it  was  awarding  CHPC  a 
$10.6  million  contract  to  develop  new  high-performance 
computing  technology  for  the  Army  and  the  Navy  (see 
related  story,  page  15). 

The  center  has  already  completed  a  contract  from  the 
Open  Software  Foundation  to  develop  a  distributed  file 


WPI  Journal 


11 


David  Cyganski,  left,  and  Frederick  W.  Wheeler  '90,  who  recently  received  a  master's  degree  in  electrical  engineering, 
work  on  a  problem  in  image  recognition.  Understanding  the  benefits  that  could  accrue  to  WPI  from  the  center,  Cyganski 
helped  lay  the  groundwork  for  CHPC  and  became  its  major  advocate  on  campus. 


server  for  its  Mach  operating  system.  The 
contract  is  part  of  a  larger  project  to  de- 
velop a  real-time  version  of  the  operating 
system  for  parallel  processing  computers. 
In  addition,  the  center  will  be  seeking  funds 
from  other  government  agencies,  including 
the  National  Science  Foundation  and  the 
departments  of  Commerce  and  Energy. 

Strauss  says  WPI  would  not  have  re- 
ceived the  DARPA  funding  without  the 
Encore  group,  but  Probert  credits  the  com- 
bination of  his  group's  previous  work  with 
DARPA  and  the  university's  unique  educa- 
tional program  for  securing  that  first  con- 
tract. Prior  to  receiving  the  grant,  he  notes, 
Cyganski  gave  a  briefing  on  the  WPI  Plan,  the 
Institute's  project-based  undergraduate  cur- 
riculum, to  DARPA  officials,  who  seemed  in- 
trigued by  this  innovative  educational  model. 

When  WPI  created  CHPC,  it  hired  as 
regular,  full-time  employees  the  25  profes- 
sionals and  five  support  staff  members  who 


constituted  the  Encore  research  team.  The 
university  decided  to  locate  these  new  em- 
ployees in  Marlboro,  about  14  miles  to  the 
east  of  Worcester,  because  of  a  lack  of  ad- 
equate space  on  campus  and  because  most 
of  the  CHPC  staff  live  between  Marlboro  and 
Boston. 

Its  location  and  the  makeup  of  its  staff 
(predominantly  full-time  professionals, 
rather  than  faculty  members  and  graduate 
students)  are  not  the  only  characteristics 
that  distinguish  CHPC  from  WPl's  other 
multidisciplinary  research  centers;  the  cen- 
ter will  also  operate  according  to  a  different 
model.  Probert  says  CHPC  is  committed  to 
taking  the  knowledge  and  technology  it  de- 
velops in  the  course  of  its  work  and  trans- 
ferring it  rapidly  into  commercial  use. 

"Our  purpose  is  to  transfer  technology," 
he  says  firmly  when  asked  to  define  his 
vision  of  the  new  center.  Speaking  with  the 
animation  of  a  man  with  a  mission,  he  says 


he  sees  CHPC  as  a  change  agent,  transfer- 
ring technology  out  of  the  lab,  out  of  the 
classroom,  out  of  the  world  of  academic 
publication,  and  into  prototypes  for  prod- 
ucts that  will  then  be  taken  to  market  and 
supported  by  industry. 

Probert,  who  became  familiar  with  this 
process  as  a  principal  scientist  at  MITRE 
Corp.,  as  a  consultant  to  the  deputy 
undersecretary  of  defense  for  research  and 
engineering,  and  as  a  founding  director  of 
the  Computer  and  Software  Engineering 
Division  of  the  Institute  for  Defense  Analy- 
sis, says  it  currently  takes  far  too  long  for 
technological  research  and  development 
to  make  its  way  into  commercial  use. 

"I  spent  10  years  in  the  Department  of 
Defense  working  with  'Beltway  bandits'  and 
aerospace  contractors,"  he  notes.  "I  saw 
some  pretty  neat  stuff  being  invented  and 
developed  within  university  and  research 
labs,  and  then  saw  it  sit  on  the  shelf  because 


12 


Summer  1992 


it  was  too  advanced,  because  there  was  no 
market  for  it  at  the  time,  or  because  it  was 
just  thrown  over  the  transom  for  the  devel- 
opment guys  to  do  something  with.  The 
development  guys  would  say,  'We  don't 
understand  this;  it  wasn't  invented  here.' 
Then  they'd  go  and  reinvent  the  wheel. 

"I  did  a  series  of  studies  at  DOD  looking 
at  how  technology  is  moved  from  R&D  and 
into  industrial  practice.  In  the  U.S.  it  can 
take  15  years  from  the  time  something  is 
first  published  to  the  time  40  percent  of  it 
shows  up  adopted  in  industry.  It's  true 
across  disciplines.  And  it's  largely  a  people 
problem."  Probert  says  the  same  process 
takes  about  eight  years  in  Japan,  a  target 
he'd  like  to  aim  for  at  CHPC. 

Part  of  the  problem,  Probert  says,  is  a 
difference  in  the  way  the  two  nations  view 
base  technologies.  Japanese  manufacturers, 
he  says,  regard  base  technologies  like  new 
multiprocessing  architectures  as  sharable; 
only  the  specific  products  that  grow  out  of 
those  technologies  are  jealously  guarded.  In 
America,  antitrust  laws,  regulations  and  cor- 
porate suspiciousness  make  sharing  base 
technologies  difficult.  Therefore,  competing 
companies  must  each  go  through  the  time- 
consuming  and  costly  process  of  inventing 
these  technologies  on  their  own. 

Probert  says  the  CHPC  model,  which 
calls  for  getting  industry  directly  involved  in 
the  center,  is  designed  to  overcome  some  of 
these  obstacles  to  technology  transfer.  Indi- 
viduals and  corporations  can  join  CHPC  in 
a  number  of  ways  (see  box),  each  of  which 
carries  with  it  a  different  level  of  financial 
and  personal  commitment  and  a  different 
set  of  benefits. 

The  highest  level  of  involvement  is  spon- 
sorship, which  corporations  can  earn  with 
an  annual  fee  of  $48,000.  The  fee  entitles 
sponsoring  companies  to  bring  their  own 
technology  problems  to  the  center  for  con- 
sulting help.  It  also  enables  them  to  set  up 
bridge  programs  to  transfer  technology 
prototypes  developed  at  CHPC  into  early 
versions  of  actual  products — called  beta  ver- 
sions— that  can  then  be  tested  in  the  field. 

Not  unlike  the  Japanese  model,  the 
center's  base  technology — much  of  it  devel- 
oped with  the  support  of  government  agen- 
cies that  want  to  see  this  new  technology 
put  to  widespread  use — will  be  available 
to  all  sponsors,  while  the  details  of  specific 
bridge  contracts  will  be  carefully  guarded. 

Money  alone,  however,  will  not  get  a 
company  into  a  bridge  program.  Bridge  par- 
ticipants must  send  two  high-level  employ- 
ees to  work  with  the  CHPC  staff  as  the  tech- 
nology makes  its  way  from  research  lab  to 
test  site.  Probert  says  he  sees  this  as  critical 
to  the  success  of  the  transfer  process. 

Making  the  bridge  program  even  more 


WPI  President  Jon  C.  Strauss,  center,  speaks  to  reporters  at  a  State  House 
press  conference  held  earlier  this  year  to  announce  the  formation  of  CHPC. 
Massachusetts  Governor  William  F.  Weld,  left,  and  CHPC  director  Thomas  A. 
Probert  look  on. 


attractive  is  the  fact  that  CHPC  will  charge  no 
licensing  fees  for  the  technology  it  develops 
under  government  contracts.  Sponsors  will 
be  able  to  make  use  of  the  technology  at  no 
charge,  with  the  proviso  that  they  pay  royal- 
ties to  the  center  on  any  product  that  results 
from  it.  But  it  is  the  collaboration  between 
co-located  employees  and  CHPC  staff  that 
will  truly  be  the  key  to  the  successful  trans- 
fer of  technology,  Probert  notes. 

"Technology  does  not  move  through  dia- 
grams and  patents,  through  formulas  or 
specifications,  through  literature,  or  even 
through  prototypes,"  he  says.  "Technology 
moves  through  people.  So  you  put  people 
together  and  they  develop  credibility  with 
each  other,  and  then  they  actively  transfer 
the  technology. 

"We're  going  to  show  them  how  to  take 
the  things  we  know  how  to  do  and  translate 
them  into  products.  Then  they'll  go  away  and 
build  those  products.  We  may  build  them  the 
beta  versions,  but  they'll  build  the  final  prod- 
ucts— and  they'll  sell  and  support  them.  But 
this  is  the  magic:  they  won't  walk  away  with 
just  a  thing;  they'll  have  an  understanding 
that  will  allow  them  to  modify  the  technology, 
to  further  it,  and  to  extend  it  to  meet  their 
particular  product  dimension." 

In  attracting  potential  sponsors,  Probert 
says  the  experience  of  his  research  and  devel- 
opment team  has  been  a  plus.  That  experi- 
ence includes  the  successful  development  of 
a  number  of  hardware  and  software  products 
for  Encore,  including  a  version  of  Mach  for 
Encore's  parallel  processing  computers; 
the  first  parallel  implementation  of  Ada,  the 
programming  language  used  by  the  defense 
department;  and  a  small-scale  version  of 


GigaMax,  an  early  attempt  at  a  massively 
parallel  computer. 

That  experience  can  save  sponsors  from 
making  costly  mistakes,  as  one  company 
(now  a  sponsor)  found  out  when  it  visited 
the  center.  "They  were  trying  to  build  an  ag- 
gressively packaged  processing  module  and 
put  it  on  a  board,"  Probert  says.  "We  said, 
'Don't  do  that.  We  tried  it  and  found  that  the 
board  will  delaminate  if  you  use  that  bond- 
ing technology.'  They  immediately  saved 
$850,000  by  moving  the  project  in  a  different 
direction." 

Because  building  technology  bridges  is 
as  much  a  process  of  education  as  it  is  of 
research  and  development,  Probert  says 
it  was  a  natural  move  to  associate  his  re- 
search group  with  a  university.  Strauss 
says  he  agrees,  adding  that  the  goal  of  the 
center — finding  real-world  applications  for 
leading-edge  research — is  a  particularly 
good  fit  with  WPI's  "Two  Towers"  tradition 
of  combining  the  academic  and  the  practical 
(a  philosophy  captured  in  the  Institute's 
motto,  "Lehr  und  Kunst,"  which  is  usually 
translated  as  learning  and  the  skilled  arts). 

Strauss  says  he  is  as  enthusiastic  about 
CHPC  as  Probert,  but  for  different  reasons. 
While  Probert  is  excited  about  the  possibil- 
ity of  changing  the  way  and  the  speed  with 
which  industry  incorporates  new  computing 
technology,  Strauss  sees  a  strong  relation- 
ship developing  between  CHPC's  research 
directions  and  the  interests  of  WPI's  Com- 
puter Science  and  Electrical  and  Computer 
Engineering  departments. 

"I  hope  some  of  our  regular  faculty  mem- 
bers will  become  engaged — either  as  con- 
sultants or  as  staff — in  some  of  the  ongoing 


WPI  Journal 


13 


Building  Bridges: 

How  to  Get  Involved  in  CHPC 


One  of  the  primary  goals  of  the 
Center  for  High-Performance 
Computing,  according  to  its  founder, 
Thomas  A.  Probert,  is  getting  new  develop- 
ments in  computer  technology  incorporated 
into  actual  products  as  quickly  as  possible. 
To  meet  that  goal,  the  center  has  invited  in- 
dividuals and  American  high-technology 
companies  to  become  directly  involved  in 
the  center. 

Currently,  CHPC  offers  four  levels  of  in- 
volvement, each  of  which  provides  different 
advantages,  and  each  of  which  has  a  differ- 
ent cost  associated  with  it.  Here  is  a  quick 
look  at  how  individuals  and  companies  can 
join  the  technology  transfer  process: 

Membership:  This  is  intended  for  indi- 
viduals. It  is  the  least  expensive  level  and 
entitles  one  to  receive  a  periodic  newsletter 
from  the  center  that  reviews  its  research 


and  technology  developments.  Members 
may  also  attend  an  annual  symposium  on 
high-performance  computing  sponsored 
by  the  center. 

Cost:  $350  per  year 

Associate:  This  level  is  aimed  at  compa- 
nies. In  addition  to  the  benefits  of  member- 
ship, it  offers  access  to  the  center's  in-depth 
analysis  and  technical  reports.  The  reports 
focus  on  specific  topics  and  contain  infor- 
mation on  what  the  CHPC  R&D  team  has 
found — through  its  own  experience  and  its 
industry  contacts— to  actually  work. 

Cost:  $9,500  per  year 

Sponsorship:  This  level  is  also  aimed  at 
companies.  It  includes  the  benefits  of  the 
associate  level,  plus  consulting  by  the  cen- 
ter staff  to  address  technology  issues  on  a 
time-and-materials  basis. 

Cost:  $48,000  per  year 


Technology  Transfer  Programs: 

These  are  sponsor-specific  bridge  programs 
aimed  at  getting  core  technology  incorpo- 
rated quickly  into  a  sponsor's  products. 

Cost:  Negotiated  individually  on 
basis  of  scope  of  project 

Currently,  the  emphasis  is  on  signing  up 
sponsors  and  developing  technology  trans- 
fer programs.  By  early  summer,  CHPC  had 
four  sponsors:  Encore  Computer  Corp.,  Mer- 
cury Computer  Systems  Co.,  Data  General 
Corp.  and  the  Open  Software  Foundation 
(OSF).  Some  of  these  members  have  also 
provided  the  center  with  equipment.  For 
example,  Data  General  has  leased  to  CHPC 
$750,000  worth  of  its  new  Aviion  computers 
at  a  substantial  discount.  In  return,  the  cen- 
ter will  develop  a  version  of  the  OSF  Mach 
operating  system  to  run  on  the  Aviion. 

Probert  says  he  expects  the  center  to 
have  20  sponsors  by  the  end  of  its  first  full 
year  of  operation.  Long-term  plans  call  for 
the  center  to  sign  an  unlimited  number  of 
members,  200  associates  and  75  sponsors. 
He  says  he  also  expects  that  the  center  will 
ultimately  be  able  to  handle  about  10  bridge 
contracts  at  any  one  time.  To  date,  two 
bridge  contracts  have  been  completed  and 
a  third  is  anticipated. 


CHPC  work,  be  it  hardware  or  software  de- 
velopment," he  says.  "I  would  expect  that 
some  of  our  graduate  students  would  be 
supported  as  research  assistants  through 
CHPC  and  that  more  and  more  of  our  under- 
graduates would  do  their  Major  Qualifying 
Projects  as  part  of  the  CHPC's  work. 

"In  addition,  I  would  expect  that  we  will 
draw  more  and  more  on  the  CHPC  profes- 
sional staff  to  serve  as  adjunct  faculty  mem- 
bers, teaching  courses  and  possibly  some 
special  professional  seminars  under  the 
auspices  of  WPI.  Several  staff  members  are 
Ph.D.-trained  and  fully  qualified  to  accept 
faculty  appointments." 

One  of  those  is  Probert,  who  earned  his 
master's  and  doctoral  degrees  in  computer 
and  information  science  at  the  University  of 
Massachusetts  after  completing  graduate 
work  in  biology  at  Northeastern  University. 
In  fact,  he  served  as  an  adjunct  professor  at 
WPI  in  the  1970s  and  says  he  may  be  back  in 
the  classroom  early  next  year. 

Cyganski  says  Strauss'  hopes  are  already 
being  realized.  "We  now  have  a  constant 
pump  of  high-technology  information  into 
our  educational  program,"  he  notes.  "We 
have  members  of  the  center's  staff  giving 
lectures  and  co-teaching  courses.  We  have 
graduate  students  completing  theses  work- 
ing hand-in-hand  with  WPI  faculty  and  CHPC 


staff.  We  have  several  proposals  for  further 
academic  research  that  have  been  co-auth- 
ored by  researchers  from  the  Institute  and 
the  center.  I  can't  believe  how  much  has 
happened  in  just  a  few  months." 

Strauss  says  he  sees  other  benefits  ac- 
cruing to  WPI  from  the  creation  and  success 
of  CHPC.  In  particular,  he  says  the  center's 
DARPA  funding  and  its  ability  to  attract  fed- 
eral and  industrial  sponsors  for  itself  and 
for  other  WPI  programs  will  enhance  WPI's 
own  reputation  and  credibility  among  these 
funding  sources. 

"I  was  a  strong  proponent  of  establishing 
this  operation,"  he  says.  "But  I'm  more  ex- 
posed on  this  than  I  am  on  most  projects, 
because  generally  in  my  role  as  facilitator, 
I'm  promoting  an  existing  faculty  member 
who  is  taking  on  or  developing  a  new  enter- 
prise. In  this  instance,  we  brought  in  a  tailor- 
made  enterprise  and  assumed  more  risk 
than  the  majority  of  our  faculty  was  com- 
fortable with.  We  could  not  have  done 
that  without  the  strong  support  of  Dave 
Cyganski  and  others  who  have  signifi- 
cant credibility — well  earned  and  well 
deserved — with  their  faculty  colleagues." 

Strauss  says  he  hopes  alumni  and  the 
rest  of  the  WPI  community  will  share  his 
vision.  "This  is  an  exciting  venture  that  has 
excellent  promise  of  success — success  that 


will  be  to  the  benefit  of  WPI  on  both  the  aca- 
demic and  the  recognition  fronts,"  he  says. 
"I'd  like  our  folks  to  be  excited  about  the 
possibility  of  making  a  difference  in  an  im- 
portant area.  The  grand  challenges  of  com- 
putation are  all  means  to  an  end.  The  end,  of 
course,  is  the  computational  ability  that  will 
enable  us  to  do  better  science  and  to  learn 
more  about  our  world." 

Probert  echoes  Strauss'  hopes.  "I  want  to 
be  in  the  situation  of  MIT's  Draper  Labs,"  he 
says.  "Draper  turns  down  hundreds  of  mil- 
lions of  dollars  of  research  work  and  con- 
tract work  every  year.  They  do  that  based 
on  the  fact  that  they're  full  up;  they  can't 
take  any  more. 

"But  there's  not  a  single  military  radar 
project  in  the  country  that  doesn't  go 
through  Draper  Labs.  Draper  is  the  place 
to  go  to  understand  radar.  You  cannot  get 
a  project  funded,  and  it  will  be  questioned 
in  Congress  and  in  the  military,  unless  you 
have  a  Draper  guy  look  at  it.  That  gives  you 
an  idea  of  their  reputation.  We  want  that 
reputation  for  CHPC." 

A  former  newspaper  editor,  Diane  Benison 
is  now  a  free-lance  writer  and  editor  who 
also  teaches  journalism  in  Clark  University's 
College  of  Professional  and  Continuing 
Education. 


14 


Summer  1992 


Divide  and  Conquer 


The  secret  to  building  computers  that 
can  handle  trillions  of  instructions  per 
second  lies  in  splitting  problems  into 
pieces  and  solving  them  simulta- 
neously on  hundreds— or  even  hun- 
dreds of  thousands — of  individual 
processors.  Here's  an  introduction  to 
the  brave  new  world  of  high-perfor- 
mance computing. 

By  Michael  Dorsey 


In  1959  WPI  purchased  one  of  its  first 
digital  computers,  an  IBM  610  Autopoint. 
Running  at  peak  speed  the  machine 
could  execute  a  few  thousand  instructions 
each  second.  Over  the  next  few  decades, 
computer  speeds  increased  dramatically.  By 
1980,  when  the  Institute  acquired  a  Digital 
Equipment  Corp.  DEC-20,  mainframes  were 
routinely  cranking  through  programs  at  the 
astounding  rate  of  a  million  instructions  per 
second  (mips),  or  about  1,000  times  as  fast 
as  the  IBM  610. 

Today,  just  over  a  decade  later,  the  stage 
is  being  set  for  a  million-fold  jump  in  speed 
over  computers  like  the  DEC-20.  The  latest 
generation  of  supercomputers  are  already 
processing  billions  of  instructions  per  sec- 
ond (bips),  and  a  growing  number  of  high- 
tech  companies  are  setting  their  sights  on 
the  trillions  of  instructions  per  second  (tips) 
mark.  (Last  fall,  Cambridge-based  Thinking 
Machines  Inc.  announced  it  had  crossed 
that  magic  boundary  in  the  laboratory  with 
its  newest  Connection  Machine.) 

How  fast  is  a  trillion  instructions  per  sec- 
ond? Think  about  it  this  way:  An  excellent 
typist  may  tap  out  about  75  words  a  minute. 
If  the  average  word  is  about  six  characters 
long,  that  amounts  to  450  characters  per 
minute  or  7.5  individual  keystrokes— just 
over  one  word — a  second.  In  one  second  the 
IBM  610  could  have  processed  at  least  1,000 
characters,  or  about  the  number  of  words 


To  Mesh  Router 


VME 
Interface 


T 


r^ 


Cache 


Cache 


Cache 


Cache 


The  Lynx  node  being  developed  by  the  Center  for  High-Performance  Com- 
puting consists  of  four  powerful  Motorola  881 10  processors  with  their  own 
memory  caches,  256  million  bytes  of  memory  and  devices  that  will  connect 
the  module  to  a  fiber-optic  network. 


on  two-thirds  of  a  double-spaced  typewrit- 
ten page. 

In  one  second  the  DEC-20  would  have 
gone  through  a  million  characters,  or  about 
the  number  of  words  in  two  250-page  nov- 
els. By  contrast,  a  one-tips  computer  could 
race  through  a  trillion  characters  in  that 
same  second.  That's  like  typing  all  of  the 
words  in  2,000  novels  in  the  blink  of  an  eye. 
The  increase  in  computing  speed  achieved 
over  the  past  three  decades  is  akin  to  taking 
a  jet  that  can  fly  1,000  miles  an  hour  and 
turning  it  into  a  starship  that  can  travel 
1,500  times  the  speed  of  light. 

Reaching  for  the  tips  prize  has  required 
a  new  approach  to  computing.  Traditionally, 
a  computer  has  consisted  of  a  single  proces- 
sor, some  form  of  storage  or  memory,  and 
various  input  and  output  devices  like  key- 
boards and  printers.  Like  a  lone  typist  who 
completes  a  manuscript  one  character  at 
a  time,  a  single-processor  computer  plods 
through  programs  in  serial  fashion — one 
instruction  at  a  time. 


To  make  computers  faster,  designers 
have  turned  to  faster  processors  and  have 
found  ways  to  pack  components  closer  to- 
gether on  integrated  circuits  to  shorten  the 
distance  electrons  must  travel  as  they  whiz 
around  these  chips  (see  illustration,  pages 
16  to  17).  But  designers  who  follow  this  ap- 
proach ultimately  run  up  against  barriers 
caused  by  the  physical  limitations  inherent 
in  the  materials  they  use  to  make  computer 
chips.  Even  exotic  substances  like  gallium 
arsenide,  which  may  be  used  in  the  next 
generation  of  supercomputers,  have  inher- 
ent speed  limits. 

But  there  is  another  avenue  to  greater 
speed.  Just  as  one  can  get  a  10-chapter  book 
typed  10  times  more  quickly  by  giving  each 
chapter  to  a  different  typist,  a  computer  can 
work  through  a  computer  program  much 
faster  if  the  program  is  first  split  into  pieces, 
each  of  which  can  then  run  on  a  separate 
processor.  This  technique,  called  multi- 
processing or  parallel  computing,  is  the 

(Continued  on  page  18) 


WPI  Journal 


15 


The  Road  to  the  Tips  Machine. 


1 


Computing  in  a 
Straight  Line 

Traditionally,  computers  have 

performed  tasks  in  a  serial  or 

step-by-step  fashion,  the  way  an 

individual  craftsman  builds  a 

product.  In  these  machines, 

which  include  most  personal 

computers  and  mainframes, 

a  single  processor  carries  out 

one  instruction  at  a  time. 


)  Faster, 
il.  Faster,  Faster 

The  first  supercomputers  achieved 
high  speeds  by  accelerating  the 
computer's  internal  clock,  making 
the  processor  race  through  instruc- 
tions at  a  faster  pace.  This  was 
accomplished  by  building  smaller, 
faster  circuits  that  could  process 
information  much  more  quickly. 
Some  designers  have  experimented 
with  still-faster  materials,  such  as 
gallium  arsenide,  but  so  far  these 
have  proved  difficult  to  work 
with  and  are  less  reliable  than 
the  silicon  traditionally  used  in 
computer  chips. 


3  Racing  Down 
the  Pipeline 

There  are  physical  limita- 
tions to  how  fast  one  can  make 
components  or  how  closely  one 
can  pack  them  together.  To 
add  more  speed,  some  super- 
computer designers  split  the 
central  processor  into  sub- 
processors,  each  of  which 
carries  out  just  part  of  an  in- 
struction— much  like  workers 
on  an  assembly  line  each  do 
one  part  of  a  task.  As  the  second 
subprocessor  does  its  job,  the 
first  can  be  starting  on  the  next 
instruction  and  so 
on,  saving  time. 


16 


Summer  1992 


4 


Vectoring 
for  Speed 

Many  supercomputers  use  a 
vectored  architecture  in  which 
several  subprocessors  simulta- 
neously perform  the  exact 
same  operation  on  every  num- 
ber in  an  array  of  data,  called 
a  vector.  Today  the  dominant 
supercomputer  design  is  sev- 
eral vector  processors  linked 
together.  These  machines  gen- 
erally run  at  the  low  end  of  the 
bips  range  (that's  billions  of 
instructions  per  second). 


5  In  Numbers 
There  is  Speed 

The  latest  trend  in  super- 
computing  is  called  the  massively 
parallel  machine,  in  which  prob- 
lems are  broken  up  into  many 
pieces  and  run  on  hundreds  or 
even  thousands  of  processors. 
Some  of  these  designs  operate  on 
the  principle  of  single-instruction, 
multiple-data  (SIMD — pronounced 
sim-dee),  in  which  each  active  pro- 
cessor is  always  performing  the 
same  task  as  every  other  processor. 
To  reach  the  tips  range — trillions 
of  instructions  per  second — SIMD 
computers  require  many  thousands 
of  processors. 


6      Processors 
With  Minds  of 
Their  Own 

The  other  approach  in  massively 
parallel  computers  is  the  mul- 
tiple-instruction, multiple  data 
(M1MD,  or  mim-dee)  mode,  in 
which  a  smaller  number  of  pro- 
cessors work  independently, 
performing  different  operations 
on  different  pieces  of  data.  The 
major  challenge  in  using  either 
SIMD  or  MIMD  machines  is  writ- 
ing programs  that  effectively 
break  down  problems  to  take 
advantage  of  the  speed  inherent 
in  having  many,  many  processors 
working  as  a  team. 


WPI  Journal 


17 


(Continued  from  page  15) 

one  most  designers  of  high-performance 
machines  are  turning  to. 

There  are  two  basic  approaches  to  multi- 
processing. The  first  is  called  single  instruc- 
tion, multiple  data  or  SIMD  (pronounced 
sim-dee).  In  SIMD  machines  the  processors 
behave  like  galley  slaves,  each  performing 
the  exact  same  operation  at  the  same  time 
on  different  bits  of  data.  In  an  image  pro- 
cessing application,  for  example,  one  might 
want  to  quickly  change  the  color  of  every 
picture  element  in  a  television  image.  With  a 
SIMD  computer,  you'd  assign  one  processor 
to  each  element,  allowing  the  computer  to 
accomplish  the  changeover  in  one  step  (on 
a  single-processor  machine,  in  contrast,  the 
changeover  would  take  as  many  steps  as 
there  are  picture  elements). 

SIMD  computers  derive  their  speed  from 
sheer  numbers,  rather  than  from  the  power 
of  the  individual  processors  (one  Connec- 
tion Machine  currently  on  the  market  em- 
ploys 128,000  processors).  But  to  use  this 
computing  horsepower,  one  needs  a  prob- 
lem that  can  be  broken  into  many  essen- 
tially identical  pieces.  But  most  scientific 
and  engineering  problems  require  a  more 
flexible  approach.  That's  why  most  multi- 
processor computers  are  MIMD  or  multiple 
instruction,  multiple  data  machines. 

In  a  MIMD  computer,  a  problem  is  bro- 
ken into  units  that  are  assigned  to  a  com- 
paratively small  number  of  powerful 
processors.  Unlike  the  galley-slave 
synchronization  of  SIMD  machines, 
each  processor  in  a  MIMD  architec- 
ture can  perform  a  different  opera- 
tion on  the  data  in  its  memory  and 
can  proceed  at  its  own  pace. 

"MIMD  is  far  more  powerful  and 
far  more  general  than  SIMD,"  notes 
Thomas  A.  Probert,  director  of  WPI's 
Center  for  High-Performance  Comput- 
ing (CHPC),  who  says  that  MIMD  is 
the  path  CHPC  is  following.  Currently, 
engineers  at  the  center  are  develop- 
ing a  MIMD  processor  called  Lynx  as 
part  of  a  $10.6  million  contract  with 
the  Defense  Advanced  Research  Pro- 
jects Agency  (DARPA).  Each  Lynx  unit 
or  node  will  consist  of  four  Motorola 
88110  microprocessors  joined  by  a 
fiber-optic  bus.  These  extremely  fast 
(50  megahertz),  reduced-instruction- 
set-computing  (RISC)  processors, 
along  with  256  million  bytes  of  mem- 
ory and  an  interface  device,  will  fit 
in  a  box  about  the  size  of  a  slide 
projector. 

By  itself,  Lynx  would  make  an  im- 
pressive small  supercomputer.  At  a 
normal  operating  speed  of  200  million 


instructions  per  second  (that's  the  equiva- 
lent of  200  DEC-20s),  it  is  faster  than  many 
machines  currently  on  the  market.  But  what 
makes  it  a  contender  in  the  tips  race  is  its 
scalability.  Put  two  Lynx  nodes  together  and 
you  double  their  speed;  add  98  more,  and 
you've  got  a  computer  operating  at  nearly 
20  billion  instructions  per  second.  In  theory, 
there  is  no  limit  (other  than  price)  on  the 
number  of  Lynx  nodes  that  can  be  joined 
into  a  single  computer. 

"We've  simulated  up  to  2,000  intercon- 
nected Lynx  nodes,"  Probert  says.  "We've 
taken  actual  instruction  traces  from  serial 
computers  and  fed  them  through  the  simu- 
lation, validating  that  the  program  does  the 
right  memory  references  and  so  on.  We 
know  it  will  work." 

The  Lynx  processors  can  be  hooked  to- 
gether by  Galactica  Net,  a  unique  two- 
dimensional  fiber-optic  highway  that  can 
move  data  about  at  the  rate  of  a  million  bits 
of  information  per  second.  Each  processor 
is  connected  to  a  device  called  a  router  that, 
in  turn,  is  linked  to  four  other  routers  and 
so  on.  Galactica  Net  connects  the  proces- 
sors to  each  other  and  to  a  shared  memory. 

While  it  can  be  slower  than  some  other 
connection  schemes  used  in  multicom- 
puters,  Probert  says  the  simple  mesh  has 
two  important  advantages.  First,  it  is  easier 
to  scale  up  a  mesh  into  the  type  of  mas- 
sively parallel  machine  needed  to  reach  the 
tips  benchmark.  And  second,  because  the 
connections  between  the  processors  and 


the  mesh  are  fairly  simple,  there  is  no  need 
for  the  specialized  hardware  that  must  be 
designed  for  some  architectures — including 
the  popular  hypercube,  which  places  the 
processors  at  the  corners  of  a  multidimen- 
sional cube. 

Galactica  Net  is  a  distributed,  shared- 
memory  architecture,  which  means  that  all 
of  the  Lynx  processors  make  use  of  the 
same  distributed,  shared  memory.  To  mini- 
mize what  is  known  as  data  contention, 
which  occurs  when  several  processors  try 
to  manipulate  the  same  piece  of  data  at  the 
same  time,  Probert  says  the  CHPC  designers 
have  given  each  processor  its  own  memory 
cache. 

When  several  processors  need  the  same 
data,  each  writes  the  information  to  its  own 
cache.  Only  one  processor  can  change  the 
data;  the  others  check  to  see  whether  they 
might  need  to  alter  it.  When  the  first  proces- 
sor is  finished  updating  the  data,  it  writes 
the  new  value  into  the  caches  of  the  other 
processors  and  into  the  shared  memory. 
Another  processor  then  gets  the  go  ahead  to 
change  the  data,  and  the  process  continues. 

Probert  says  CHPC  has  filed  for  a  patent 
on  the  memory  protocol  and  also  has  a 
patent  pending  on  Galactica  Net  and  the 
software  that  drives  it.  He  notes  that  the 
center  has  deliberately  placed  much  of  the 
complexity  of  its  multicomputer  into  this 
software,  rather  than  into  the  hardware 
itself,  even  though  the  latter  approach  often 
results  in  a  boost  in  operating  speed.  He 


Hundreds  of  Lynx  nodes  can  be  joined  together  by  Galactica  Net,  a  mesh-like  fiber- 
optic network.  Each  Lynx  node  is  connected  to  a  router,  which,  in  turn,  is  linked  to 
four  other  routers.  The  routers  connect  the  processors  to  each  other  and  to  a  large 
shared,  distributed  memory. 


18 


Summer  1992 


**  We  'ue  simulated  up  to  2, 000  interconnected  Lynx  nodes.  We  've 
taken  actual  instruction  traces  from  serial  computers  and  fed 
them  through  the  simulation,  validating  that  the  program  does 
the  right  memory  references  and  so  on.  We  know  it  will  work. " 

— Thomas  Probert 


says  the  CHPC  team  has  learned  the  value  of 
this  approach  through  experience. 

When  CHPC's  25  engineers  and  designers 
constituted  Encore  Computer  Corp.'s  high- 
performance  computer  design  group,  they 
worked  on  a  project  called  GigaMax  under 
an  earlier  DARPA  contract.  The  goal  was  to 
develop  a  bips  computer,  but  the  project 
became  bogged  down  by  the  difficulty  of 
designing  and  building  hugely  complex  cir- 
cuit boards.  "We  learned  that  attempting  to 
place  all  the  complexity  in  the  hardware  to 
gain  speed  leads  to  problems,"  he  notes. 

"We  had  to  build  14-inch-by-l  7-inch  com- 
puter boards  that  were  14-layers  thick  and 
that  had  components  mounted  on  both 
sides.  The  state  of  the  art  in  layout  tools 
couldn't  handle  the  complexity  of  those 
boards,  so  we  had  to  do  a  lot  of  the  layout 
by  hand.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  imple- 
ment. Now  we've  moved  a  lot  of  that  com- 
plexity into  the  software,  which  is  far  more 
flexible  and  much  easier  to  modify." 

That  does  not  mean  that  Lynx  is  not 
complex,  Probert  says.  In  fact,  the  sheer  in- 
tricateness  of  the  processor  is  the  primary 
reason  it  exists  now  only  in  their  minds  and 
in  computer  simulators.  "When  you  have 
things  that  are  operating  at  100  mips  or 
more,  you  have  to  anticipate  every  single 
possibility,"  he  notes. 

"That's  where  people  fail.  You  just  can't 
forget  one  condition.  Since  the  programs 
execute  so  quickly,  you  can  guarantee  that 
almost  every  path  through  a  circuit  will  be 
used  at  least  once.  If  you've  forgotten  some- 
thing, you'll  fail.  And  once  you've  built  the 
thing,  it's  almost  impossible  to  find  where 
the  problem  is.  With  a  parallel  machine,  a 
program  might  run  differently  each  time 
through,  and  a  bug  may  not  show  up  every 
time  you  run  it." 

Such  seemingly  random  variations  in  the 
way  the  same  program  may  run  on  the  same 
machine  is  just  one  of  the  qualities  of  multi- 
computers  that  make  programing  them 
more  challenging  than  writing  instructions 
for  serial  computers,  Probert  says.  To  help 
users  deal  with  these  complexities,  CHPC  is 
developing  a  powerful  suite  of  programming 
tools  called  Insight.  One  of  the  unique  fea- 
tures of  Insight  is  its  ability  to  give  a  multi- 


computer a  sort  of  introspective  quality. 

"Insight  enables  one  set  of  processors — 
through  memory — to  watch  another  set," 
Probert  says.  "The  advantage  is  that  it  is 
nonintrusive;  it  does  not  obstruct  the  in- 
struction stream.  No  one  else  has  anything 
like  this.  It's  unique  in  the  industry." 

Probert  says  using  Insight  is  like  plac- 
ing a  glass  window  over  the  computer  and 
watching  how  it  goes  about  executing  a  pro- 
gram. To  use  the  tool,  a  user  installs  small 
programs  called  observers.  The  observers 
attach  themselves  to  specific  locations  in 
the  computer's  memory  and  keep  track  of 
all  the  operations  that  use  those  locations. 
By  providing  feedback  on  potential  prob- 
lems with  a  program  and  by  pinpointing 
ways  the  program  may  not  be  using  the 
computer  efficiently,  Insight  will  help  users 
write  effective  application  software  without 
having  to  be  intimately  familiar  with  the 
workings  of  the  computer. 

Insight  should  help  third-party  software 
developers  create  libraries  of  application 
software  for  parallel  computing,  something 
that  has  not  happened  yet  because  of  the 
limited  marketplace  for  multicomputers 
(they  currently  account  for  just  one-tenth  of 
one  percent  of  all  computer  systems  in  the 
U.S.)  "Parallel  processors  are  not  available 
because  the  broad  exposure  is  not  there 
yet,"  Probert  says.  "Without  the  machines, 
application  programmers  don't  write  pro- 
grams for  parallel  machines.  Without  the 
programs,  people  don't  buy  the  machines." 

Probert  says  university  programs  like 
CHPC  may  play  a  role  in  breaking  this  circle 
by  giving  students  access  to  parallel  com- 
puting and  encouraging  them  to  explore  its 
possibilities.  He  says  the  advent  of  personal 
computers  with  multiple  processors — which 
should  be  on  the  market  around  the  middle 
of  the  decade — may  also  help  shift  the  bal- 
ance toward  parallel  computing. 

As  that  shift  takes  place,  Probert  says 
myriad  applications  should  open  up  for 
multicomputers.  Many  will  be  in  science, 
where  massive  problems  like  studying 
changes  in  ecosystems  or  predicting  the 
weather  require  the  manipulation  of  mas- 
sive amounts  of  data.  But,  he  notes,  there 
are  many  other  applications  in  manufactur- 


ing, biotechnology,  business  and  other  fields 
that  can  use  the  speed  and  power  of  parallel 
computing.  Eventually,  he  predicts,  all  com- 
puters will  be  parallel. 

Many  of  these  applications  will  have 
to  operate  in  real-time,  with  the  computer 
working  fast  enough  to  respond  to  events 
as  they  happen.  Probert,  David  Cyganski, 
professor  of  electrical  engineering,  and 
John  A.  Orr,  professor  and  head  of  the 
Electrical  and  Computer  Engineering  De- 
partment, are  anticipating  a  grant  from 
DARPA  that  will  fund  the  development  of 
a  three-dimensional  user  interface  that, 
when  integrated  to  Lynx  and  Galactica  Net, 
will  enable  users  to  manipulate  satellite 
images  in  real  time. 

Called  Visual  Lynx,  the  system  will  dis- 
play a  three-dimensional  representation  of  a 
picture  as  it  is  beamed  down  from  the  satel- 
lite. The  user,  whether  a  military  analyst  in 
Washington  or  a  fisheries  biologist  out  at 
sea,  will  be  able  to  indicate  a  section  of  the 
image  he'd  like  to  view  in  more  detail  and 
direct  the  satellite  to  zoom  in  on  it  or  em- 
ploy a  different  sensor  to  study  it. 

"You've  got  a  satellite  up  there  and  it's 
moving  at  18,000  miles  an  hour  and  taking  a 
picture,"  Probert  says.  "If  it  takes  too  long  to 
do  the  processing  and  send  the  command, 
by  the  time  the  signal  gets  back  up  there  the 
sensors  will  be  pointing  at  something  else. 
This  is  different  from  the  traditional  super- 
computer application,  in  which  someone 
goes  off  and  runs  a  program  that  might 
compute  for  minutes  or  even  hours." 

While  Visual  Lynx  will  take  a  few  years  to 
develop,  the  first  working  prototype  of  the 
Lynx-Galactica  Net  system  should  be  up  and 
running  in  January  1993,  Probert  says.  "We 
won't  lay  anything  out  before  November. 
Now  it's  all  staging,  design,  simulation  and 
so  on.  Once  it's  built,  it's  built.  We  won't 
change  it.  That's  why  we'll  do  as  much  as 
we  possibly  can  before  we  get  to  that  stage." 

While  this  new  multicomputing  archi- 
tecture will  be  available  to  CHPC's  spon- 
sors— and  will,  most  likely,  end  up  being 
transferred  to  many  real  products — Probert 
says  the  first  "customer"  for  the  system 
will  be  the  federal  government,  which  will 
decide  whether  Lynx  or  one  of  a  few  other 
"shadow  technologies"  being  funded  by 
DARPA  will  be  adopted  as  a  primary  high- 
performance  computing  platform  for  the 
U.S.  Navy.  "If  we're  successful,  this  technol- 
ogy could  be  inserted  into  a  major  program. 
This  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  makes  compa- 
nies. The  stakes  are  high,  as  are  the  risks, 
but  the  payoff  could  be  very  high  indeed." 

Reporting  by  Diane  Benison  contributed 
to  this  article. 


WPI  Journal 


19 


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First, 

Do  No  Harm 


More  than  two  thousand  years  ago, 
Hippocrates  set  forth  that  simple 
rule  for  physicians.  But  as  modern 
technology  has  transformed  the 
practice  of  medicine,  enabling 
doctors  to  postpone  death  and 
manipulate  the  genetic  code  that 
is  the  root  of  human  life,  the  line 
between  healing  and  harming 
has  been  blurred.  As  professor 
of  religion  and  social  ethics, 
Thomas  Shannon  works  to  bring 
the  ethical  issues  of  modern  medi- 
cine into  sharp  focus. 

By  Diane  Benison 


"I  observe  the  physician 
with  the  same  diligence 
as  he  the  disease." 

— John  Donne 


I'm  not  against  technology.  I'm  not  against  its  proper  use. 
What  bothers  me  is  its  improper  use,  or  its  overuse,"  Thomas 
A.  Shannon  says.  Shannon,  a  bioethicist,  has  spent  his  adult  life 
thinking  and  writing  about  the  appropriate  use  of  technology  in 
health  care,  a  topic  he  also  focuses  on  in  the  classroom  with  his 
students  at  WP1. 

Because  his  expertise  is  recognized  nationally,  mainstream  media 
call  him  occasionally  for  comment  when  the  use  of  medical  technol- 
ogy becomes  news.  But  he's  not  likely  to  make  the  Oprah-Donahue- 
Povich  circuit  anytime  soon.  His  story  about  being  a  guest  on  a  1977 
David  Suskind  Show  on  euthanasia  explains  why. 

"They  interviewed  me  in  advance  over  the  phone,"  he  remem- 
bers. "At  one  point  the  staff  person  said,  'You  know,  you're  really 
too  mild.  Can't  you  take  one  extreme  or  the  other?'"  Shannon  says 
he  was  startled.  He'd  been  trying  to  identify  the  issues,  methodi- 
cally examine  the  underlying  values,  and  then  weigh  those  values 
against  one  another.  "They  didn't  want  that,"  he  says.  "They  wanted 
entertainment." 

Shannon  is  thought-provoking,  a  quality  not  often  thought  of  as 
entertaining  by  the  electronic  media.  But  if  the  standing-room- 
only  crowd  of  alumni  at  Reunion  in  early  June  was  any  indication, 
Shannon  is  worth  listening  to.  They  sat  and  stood  with  focused 
attention  during  his  50-minute  presentation.  When  his  talk  about 
ethics  and  health  care  ended,  he  spent  another  15  minutes  with  the 
small  group  that  stayed  behind  to  ask  questions. 

Shannon,  professor  of  religion  and  social  ethics  in  WPI's  Humani- 
ties Department,  has  published  his  ethical  arguments  on  a  wide 
range  of  issues— including  bioethics,  theology,  and  peace  and  war- 
in  the  15  books  he  has  authored  or  edited  and  in  25  articles  in 
scholarly  and  mainstream  publications.  He  has  also  delivered  more 
than  40  presentations  at  professional  meetings. 

Among  the  honors  he  has  earned  at  WPI  for  his  scholarship  and 
teaching  are  the  Paris  Fletcher  Distinguished  Professorship  in  the 
Humanities,  which  he  currently  holds,  and  the  1988  Trustees'  Award 
for  Outstanding  Creative  Scholarship. 

In  his  writings,  Shannon  advocates  the  adoption  and  use  of 
medical  technology  within  the  context  of  meeting  human  needs. 
Those  needs,  he  emphasizes,  are  not  just  biological,  but  may  be 
emotional,  psychological  and  spiritual,  as  well.  More  and  more, 
though,  as  technology  has  come  to  drive  medical  decisions,  a  patient's 
biological  needs  are  the  only  ones  that  are  considered  and  valued, 
Shannon  says.  When  that  happens,  the  emphasis  of  the  medical 
profession  shifts  from  caring  to  curing,  which  may  not  be  appropriate 
in  all  cases. 

Shannon  says  he  believes  the  unintended  consequence  of  tech- 
nology-centered medicine  is  materialistic,  reductionist  thinking  that 


WPI  Journal 


21 


a 


sees  people  as  merely  means  to  an  end.  He  says  this  outcome 
was  evident  recently  in  the  much-publicized  case  of  a  couple 
who  conceived  a  child  because  they  needed  a  compatible  bone 
marrow  donor  for  a  daughter  with  leukemia.  But  more  than 
anything,  Shannon  says,  it  is  the  neglect  or  disregard  of  those 
other  human  needs  that  concerns  him. 

Though  they  are  much  more  complicated,  divisive  and 
publicly  discussed  today,  the  primary  ethical  issues  surround- 
ing modern  medical  technology  and 
its  use  are  "the  same  ones  that  have 
been  around  since  the  early  days  of 
bioethics  about  25  years  ago,"  Shan- 
non says.  "Abortion,  euthanasia, 
genetic  screening,  organ  transplanta- 
tion, the  definition  of  death,  informed 
consent,  research  on  human  sub- 
jects— it's  the  standard  list." 

Despite  two  and  a  half  decades  of 
discussion,  Shannon  says  these 
issues  are  not  any  better  resolved 
today  than  they  were  when  he  re- 
ceived his  Ph.D.  from  the  division  of 
theological  and  religious  studies  at 
Boston  University  in  1973  (he  also 
holds  a  bachelor  of  arts  degree  from 
Quincy  College  in  Quincy,  111.,  a 
bachelor's  of  sacred  theology  from 
St.  Joseph  Seminary  in  Teutopolis,  111., 
and  a  master's  of  sacred  theology 
from  the  Boston  University  School  of 
Theology). 

"I  think  the  positions  are  staked 
out  better.  What's  changing  is  the  so- 
cial policy  and  the  social  practice — 
and  we're  not  getting  much  more  unity 
of  desire  for  legislation,"  he  says,  though  he  adds  that  legis- 
lation on  such  complex  issues  is  not  always  a  good  idea,  as 
laws — which  are  often  too  specific  or  too  vague — can  undercut 
privacy,  personal  autonomy  and  the  medical  doctrine  of 
informed  consent. 

A  realist,  Shannon  says  he  doesn't  expect  to  see  the  resolu- 
tion of  any  of  the  ethical  issues  raised  by  the  use  of  medical 
technology  anytime  soon.  "One  thing  that's  remained  constant 
over  the  last  two  decades  is  that  technology  continues  to 
outpace  ethics  and  the  law,"  he  says.  "I  think  that's  partly 
cultural,  because  in  our  country  we  take  the  position  that 
nothing  can  be  stopped.  Instead,  we  implement  technology  as 
soon  as  it's  available. 

"When  problems  do  arise,  we  have  to  stop  and  say,  'Oh,  now 
what  are  we  going  to  do  about  this?'  Then  we  try  to  regulate 
something  that  is  already  in  motion,  something  that  people  are 
already  using,  and  something  that  people  claim  they  have  a 
right  to — even  though  it  may  be  really  problematic." 

In  a  sense,  many  of  the  ethical  problems  in  medicine  can  be 
traced  to  the  great  success  the  medical  profession  has  had  in 
recent  decades  in  developing  new  forms  of  treatment  and 
disease  prevention,  Shannon  says.  As  new  ways  of  diagnosing 
and  curing  illnesses — things  like  CAT  and  MRI  scanners,  nuclear 
medicine  and  heart  transplants — have  entered  the  mainstream, 
physicians  and  patients  alike  have  continued  to  look  for  even 
more  powerful  and  exotic  technologies. 

But  placing  new  medical  devices  and  procedures  into  ser- 
vice too  quickly  can  be  risky,  Shannon  says,  because  it  is  often 
difficult  to  anticipate  the  ultimate  effects  of  a  new  technology. 


ne  thing  that's  remained 
constant  over  the  last  two 
decades  is  that  technology 
continues  to  outpace  ethics  and 

the  law.  I  think  that's  partly 
cultural,  because  in  our  country 
we  take  the  position  that  nothing 

can  be  stopped.  Instead,  we 

implement  technology  as  soon  as 

it's  available.  When  problems  do 

arise,  we  have  to  stop  and  say, 

'Oh,  now  what  are  we  going 

to  do  about  this?' 


He  cites  the  invention  of  the  automobile  as  an  example  of  a 
machine  that  has  had  broad  and  unintended  consequences, 
impacting  both  social  patterns  and  the  environment.  Shannon 
says  he  doubts  Henry  Ford  considered  these  implications  when 
he  started  building  cars. 

One  of  the  general  effects  of  new  and  more  elaborate  medical 

technology  has  been  the  rising  cost  of  health  care,  Shannon 

notes.  "Now  the  major  problem  is  often  not  that  we  can't  cure, 

but  that  when  we  do  it  requires  ever 

more  money  and  time." 

Shannon  says  he  is  not  eager  to 
belittle  the  advances  of  medical  tech- 
nology. But  he  says  he  believes  the 
tendency  of  physicians  today  to  pay 
attention  to  data  instead  of  to  pa- 
tients' feelings  is  a  problem  inherent 
in  that  technology.  "High-tech  medi- 
cine is  better  at  treating  individual 
organs  than  individuals  as  a  whole," 
he  says. 

The  phenomenon  of  "medical  op- 
tions that  quickly  become  obliga- 
tions" (as  when  hospitals  feel  they 
must  always  use  intravenous  feed- 
ing, resuscitators  and  defibrillators 
to  keep  critically  ill  patients  alive)  is 
another  consequence  of  modern 
medical  technology,  Shannon  says. 
When  the  obligatory  use  of  such 
technology  results  in  highly  visible 
cases  of  persistent  vegetative  state 
(PVS) — like  those  of  Karen  Ann 
Quinlan  and  Nancy  Cruzan — people 
become  worried   about   getting 
trapped  by  the  technology. 
That,  Shannon  worries,  may  cause  some  people  to  reject 
potentially  helpful  treatments,  because  they  believe  they  won't 
be  allowed  to  stop  treatment  once  it  has  been  started.  He  says 
he  believes  this  fear  of  being  trapped  by  high-tech  medicine  has 
helped  drive  the  euthanasia  movement,  and  also  ignited  inter- 
est in  living  wills  and  durable  powers  of  attorney. 

The  fear  of  being  held  hostage  to  modern  medicine  is  a 
consequence  of  our  inability  to  distinguish  between  caring  and 
treating,  Shannon  says.  "We  have  the  sense  that  if  we  stop 
treating,  we've  stopped  caring.  That's  a  bad  distinction.  In  some 
cases  people  simply  cannot  be  cured,  but  we  certainly  can  still 
care  as  they  go  through  their  illness.  But  our  culture  is  bad  at 
this.  We'd  like  to  turn  it  over  to  someone  else — or  to  technology. 
You  get  the  sense  that  the  only  thing  that  can  stop  treatment 
sometimes  is  a  cosmic  power  failure — like  the  Northeast  black- 
out— and  that's  awful  to  think  about." 

Shannon  says  he  is  equally  concerned  about  how  that  same 
technological  imperative  (a  medical  option  becoming  an 
obligation)  has  insidiously  impacted  our  thinking  about  organ 
transplantation — with  even  broader  social  consequences.  Con- 
stant advances  in  the  technology  of  organ  transplantation — 
and  the  resulting  growth  in  the  need  for  donor  organs — are 
behind  the  ongoing  debate  about  brain  death  and  the  growing 
movement  to  redefine  what  constitutes  death,  he  notes. 

The  first  attempt  in  U.S.  history  to  redefine  death  was  a  1968 
article  in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Medical  Association  that 
established  criteria  for  irreversible  coma.  The  article's  primary 
purpose  was  to  set  forth  a  basis  by  which  physicians  could 
determine  when  a  comatose  patient  could  be  declared  dead. 


22 


Summer  1992 


A, 


The  criteria  listed  by  the  authors  were  unreceptivity  and 
unresponsivity  (total  unawareness  of  externally  applied  stimuli 
and  inner  need),  lack  of  movement,  breathing  and  reflexes,  and 
a  flat  electroencephalograph  (EEG)  for  24  hours. 

"Today  we  continue  to  define  death  according  to  brain 
criteria,"  Shannon  says.  "That's  okay,  because  given  the  technol- 
ogy we  have  to  maintain  heart  and  lung  function,  death  can  be 
masked.  What's  critical  is  that  death  must  now  be  'whole  brain,' 
including  the  brain  stem,"  which  regu- 
lates basic  biological  functions. 

The  authors  of  the  1968  study  gave 
two  important  reasons  for  their  new 
definition,  Shannon  points  out.  "One 
was  to  empty  hospital  beds  in  inten- 
sive care  units;  the  other  was  to  get 
fresh  organs."  He  says  such  utilitarian 
thinking  is  at  the  heart  of  most  of  his 
concerns  about  medical  and  biologi- 
cal ethics. 

The  need  for  donor  organs  for  trans- 
plants is  undeniable.  "More  people 
need  organs  than  get  them,"  he  says, 
noting  that  the  reasons  for  the  organ 
shortage  include  religious  beliefs,  the 
reluctance  of  many  people  to  allow 
their  bodies  to  be  used  for  spare 
parts  like  so  many  junkyard  cars,  the 
lack  of  information  about  how  to 
become  an  organ  donor,  and  fear — 
perhaps  not  always  openly 
expressed — that  the  medical  estab- 
lishment cannot  be  trusted. 

The  organ  deficit  has  led  to  pres- 
sure to  find  ways  to  increase  the 
supply,  and  that  pressure  has  led  to 
further  efforts  to  redefine  death,  on  the  one  hand,  and  new 
strategies  to  obtain  organs — human  or  animal — on  the  other. 
Among  those  strategies  are  broader  education  efforts,  as  well  as 
required  request  and  opt-out  programs. 

Most  states  have  laws  establishing  required  request  pro- 
grams, which  mandate  that  physicians  and  hospitals  ask  dying 
patients  and  their  families  for  permission  to  remove  useful 
organs  immediately  after  death.  While  they  can  put  pressure  on 
families,  Shannon  says  such  laws  protect  an  individual's  right  to 
decide  what  happens  to  his  body. 

Currently,  there  are  no  U.S.  states  with  opt-out  laws,  though 
some  European  countries  have  adopted  them.  The  underlying 
assumption  of  such  laws,  which  allow  physicians  to  take  a 
patient's  organs  after  death  unless  he  has  requested  in  advance 
that  they  not  be  removed,  is  that,  "when  you  die,  you  become  the 
property  of  the  state."  If  you  can  become  the  property  of  the 
state  when  you  die,  Shannon  reasons,  what  will  prevent  the  state 
from  starting  to  see  you  as  its  property  before  you  die? 

"One  might  think  of  fetal  tissue  transplantation,"  he  says. 
"It's  one  thing  for  a  woman  to  donate  tissue  from  an  abortion. 
It's  another  to  simply  take  those  tissues.  That's  an  example 
where  needs  could  drive  practice.  It's  unlikely  that  the  practice 
would  be  extended  to  the  taking  of  blood,  bone  marrow  or 
organs  from  living  people,  but  the  wedge  would  be  there.  It's  a 
wedge  issue." 

Shannon  is  equally  critical  of  thinking  that  leads  to  the 
conclusion  that,  because  the  technology  exists  to  transplant 
organs,  because  there  are  people  whose  lives  could  be  extended 
through  this  technology  (or  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  the 


person  may  value  the 

ability  to  reason  abstractly,  but 

that  capacity  isn't  explicitly 

what  gives  a  person  value. 

At  least  I  wouldn't  think  so. 

You  can't  define  a  person 

exclusively  in  terms  of  any  one 

particular  value.  It's  not  any 

one  thing — or  even  the  sum  of 

all  our  particular  capacities — 

that  make  us  valuable.  I  think 

it's  something  that  goes  a 

little  beyond  that. 


technology),  and  because  there  are  insufficient  organs  to  sup- 
ply all  those  who  could  benefit,  we  should  increase  the  supply 
by  loosening  the  accepted  definition  of  what  constitutes  death. 
He  says  he  is  especially  concerned  that  the  definition  is  becom- 
ing centered  more  on  the  cognitive  function  of  the  brain, 
rather  than  on  the  whole  person. 

Shannon  says  he  does  not  believe  technology  and  science 
are  value-free,  but  rather  are  driven  by  underlying  social 
values.  And  the  value  that  underlies 
the  attempt  to  redefine  brain  death 
overemphasizes  the  ability  to  think 
abstractly.  He  says  he  questions  why 
intelligence  and  the  capacity  for 
abstract  reasoning  should  be  valued 
more  highly  than  other  human 
qualities. 

"A  person  may  value  the  ability  to 
reason  abstractly,  but  that  capacity 
isn't  explicitly  what  gives  a  person 
value,"  he  says.  "At  least  I  wouldn't 
think  so.  You  can't  define  a  person 
exclusively  in  terms  of  any  one  par- 
ticular value.  It's  not  any  one  thing — 
or  even  the  sum  of  all  our  particular 
capacities — that  make  us  valuable.  I 
think  it's  something  that  goes  a  little 
beyond  that." 

In  his  1985  book,  What  Are  They 
Saying  About  Genetic  Engineering?, 
Shannon  argued  that  the  tendency  in 
our  society  to  equate  mental  ability 
with  human  value  sometimes  leads 
us  to  socially  disvalue  people — such 
as  individuals  with  Down's  syndrome, 
sufferers  of  Alzheimer's  disease, 
elderly  patients  in  nursing  homes  or  students  in  special  edu- 
cation classes — who  have  a  diminished  capacity  for  abstract 
reasoning. 

This  tendency  to  equate  human  beings  with  fully  function- 
ing brains  was  reflected  dramatically  in  a  recent  court  battle  in 
Florida  over  a  baby  born  with  anencephaly,  a  nearly  always 
fatal  condition  in  which  most  of  the  brain  is  missing.  The 
parents  of  Theresa  Ann  Campo  Pearson  were  willing  to  have 
her  declared  brain  dead  to  assure  that  her  organs  could  be 
removed  for  transplantation  while  they  were  still  usable.  How- 
ever, the  fact  that  her  brain  stem  was  functioning  precluded 
doctors  from  making  this  declaration. 

The  arguments  made  in  the  case  included  the  idea  of 
excluding  "infants  without  intact  brains  from  the  current  defi- 
nition and  to  consider  them  dead  by  virtue  of  brain  absence," 
Shannon  notes.  It  was,  in  effect,  an  attempt  to  redefine  brain 
death  solely  in  terms  of  higher  brain  functions. 

"Such  a  shift  in  definition  assumes  a  normative  link  be- 
tween biology  and  personhood  and  comes  close  to  deriving 
personal  status — if  not  personhood  itself — exclusively  from 
neural  activity,"  Shannon  wrote  in  a  recent  paper  on  the  case. 
In  that  paper  he  concluded  that  singling  out  one  aspect  of  a 
human  being  and  valuing  it  above  all  other  aspects  demeans 
human  dignity. 

"In  one  sense,  human  value  is  an  abstract  concept,"  he  says. 
"On  the  other  hand,  we  certainly  have  to  concretize  it  in  some 
form,  but  once  you  begin  to  concretize  it  outside  of  a  certain 
context,  you  blow  it.  As  soon  as  you  isolate  it  for  study,  you  kill 
it."  This  phenomenon  is  not  unlike  Heisenberg's  uncertainty 


WPI  Journal 


23 


JLar 


principal,  which  says  that  the  more  accurately  one  measures 
the  velocity  of  a  moving  particle,  the  more  uncertain  its  location 
becomes,  and  vice  versa. 

"A  lot  of  times,  when  you  study  something  by  isolating  it 
from  the  whole  system,  you  lose  a  big  part  of  it,"  Shannon  says. 
"For  example,  the  first  patient  a  doctor  treats  is  a  cadaver.  On 
the  one  hand,  you  can  learn  a  lot  from  that.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  a  lot  missing." 

Shannon  says  a  host  of  similarly 
unarticulated  and  unexamined  social 
and  ethical  issues  surround  biotech- 
nology, especially  in  such  areas  as 
genetic  engineering  and  genetic 
screening.  For  example,  he  says  he  is 
concerned  about  the  fact  that  as  a 
society  we  often  fail  to  distinguish 
between  a  carrier  of  a  genetic  disease 
and  someone  who  has  the  disease. 

"A  carrier  is  not  afflicted  by  the 
disease,"  he  says.  "Genetic  screening 
programs  can  identify  both  types  of 
individuals,  but  if  the  distinction 
between  them  is  misunderstood  or 
confused,  carriers  could  be  prevented 
from  receiving  insurance  policies  or 
other  health  care  benefits  because  of 
a  wrong  assumption  that  they  are 
unhealthy. 

"Not  only  might  such  individuals 
be  unjustly  deprived  of  a  variety  of 
benefits,  they  are  unfairly  labeled ,  and 
this  can  serve  as  a  basis  of  discrimina- 
tion." Already,  he  notes,  a  number  of 
corporations  and  government  depart- 
ments have  attempted  to  use  genetic 
tests  to  screen  out  employees  with 
genetic  traits  that  might  make  them 
more  susceptible  to  the  harmful 
effects  of  chemicals  or  other  occupational  hazards. 

However  the  ethical  issues  of  genetic  engineering  develop, 
Shannon,  who  is  about  to  begin  work  on  a  new  book  on  the 
topic,  will  be  there.  He  is  also  part  of  a  research  group  at  the 
Center  for  Theology  and  the  Natural  Sciences  (CTNS)  that  is 
studying  the  theological  and  ethical  issues  raised  by  the  human 
genome  project  with  a  $400,000  grant  from  the  National  Insti- 
tutes of  Health  (NIH).  The  Human  Genome  Initiative,  as  it  is 
officially  known,  is  a  massive  national  project  aimed  at  mapping 
the  location  of  every  human  gene,  a  development  that  will  have 
unimaginable  implications  for  genetic  technology. 

CTNS  launched  its  study  in  the  fall  of  1991  to  bring  together 
geneticists,  theologians  and  ethicists  "to  discuss  the  implica- 
tion of  human  genome  research  for  understanding  the  relation- 
ship between  God's  creativity  and  human  creativity,  biological 
determinism  and  free  will,  our  ethical  responsibility  for  the 
future,  and  the  role  Judeo-Christian  religions  play  in  cultivating 
social  attitudes  and  offering  genetic  counseling." 

The  grant  for  the  CTNS  study  came  from  funds  specifically 
reserved  by  NIH  for  looking  at  the  social  issues  surrounding 
the  human  genome  project.  "Three  percent  of  the  budget  is 
earmarked  for  analysis  of  its  social  and  ethical  implications," 
Shannon  says. 

These  issues  might  include  who  will  control  the  intimate 
details  about  individuals  that  will  be  revealed  as  the  genome  is 
deciphered.  "People  are  talking  about  having  genetic  screening 


art  of  the  problem  I  see 

in  the  genome  project  is  that  not 

all  the  communicators 

sufficiently  attend  to  the 

context  in  which  the  gene 

operates — namely  an  organism  or 

an  environment.  The  fallacy  that 

underlies  genetic  therapy,  for 

example,  is  the  assumption  that  if 

you  have  good  genes  you  are 

going  to  be  healthier.  But  there 

are  environmentally  caused 

diseases.  You  can  have  a  decent 

set  of  genes  and  still  get  sick. 


done  at  birth,"  he  says,  "so  we  have  a  privacy  issue  here:  Who 
controls  your  genetic  profile,  you  or  the  state? 

"The  issue  of  control  is  significant  and  a  major  question  we 
have  to  deal  with.  We  don't  want  to  make  genetic  information 
the  exclusive  basis  for  how  we  treat  people.  Genes  are  not  the 
sole  determining  cause  of  who  we  are." 

Shannon  says  the  expectations  many  scientists  appear 
to  hold  for  the  genome  project  worry  him.  He  says  many 
researchers  have  expressed  the  hope 
that  "we're  going  to  be  able  to  cure 
diseases  and  make  people  the  way 
we  would  like  them  to  be — to  be  in 
charge  of  evolution.  I  don't  think 
that's  going  to  work." 

To  begin  with,  he  says,  there  are 
often  complex  relationships  between 
genes  that  are  not  illuminated  by 
simply  knowing  their  locations.  For 
example,  the  gene  that  makes  one  a 
carrier  of  sickle  cell  anemia  also  im- 
parts an  enhanced  immunity  to  ma- 
laria. But  beyond  those  concerns, 
geneticists  must  keep  in  mind  that 
not  all  diseases  have  genetic  causes 
and  not  all  human  qualities  have 
genetic  origins. 

"Part  of  the  problem  1  see  in  the 
genome  project,"  he  adds,  "is  that 
not  all  the  communicators  suffi- 
ciently attend  to  the  context  in  which 
the  gene  operates — namely  an 
organism  or  an  environment."  In  par- 
ticular, he  says,  environmental 
effects  on  health  are  sometimes 
overlooked.  "The  fallacy  that  under- 
lies genetic  therapy,  for  example,  is 
the  assumption  that  if  you  have  good 
genes  you  are  going  to  be  healthier. 
But  there  are  environmentally  caused  diseases.  You  can  have 
a  decent  set  of  genes  and  still  get  sick.  The  bottom  line  is:  be 
careful  of  exaggerated  claims." 

Shannon  says  he  is  also  wary  of  the  consequences  of 
knowing  too  much  about  one's  genetic  makeup.  "It's  clear  that 
some  of  what  we  learn  might  be  bad,"  he  notes.  "It  may  also  be 
problematic."  For  example,  he  asks,  will  learning  that  your 
genetic  constitution  might  make  you  susceptible  to  heart 
disease  at  a  young  age  spur  you  on,  or  leave  you  overwhelmed 
by  the  prospect  of  a  potentially  shortened  or  constrained  life? 
One  question  the  NIH  is  not  asking,  Shannon  says,  is 
whether  the  human  genome  project  should  be  carried  out  at 
all.  Despite  that  omission,  he  says  this  "set-aside"  will  make 
possible  the  ongoing  evaluation  of  ethical  issues  as  the  project 
moves  forward,  enabling  the  discussion  to  keep  up  with 
technological  developments,  instead  of  following  them,  as 
most  often  happens. 

The  need  for  that  kind  of  thinking  and  discussion  is  urgent, 
Shannon  says,  because  we  have  already  seen  how  technolo- 
gies can  have  unexpected  implications  and  unanticipated 
applications.  "Until  we  had  good  technologies  for  screening 
genetic  diseases — and  now  genetic  tendencies  and  traits — we 
couldn't  attempt  it,"  he  says  by  way  of  example.  "Now,  because 
we  can  do  it  and  because  it's  cost  effective,  there's  more  of  an 
incentive  for  insurance  companies  to  use  the  technology 
[to  evaluate  people].  So  now  we  have  a  new  problem." 


24 


Summer  1992 


X 


For  Shannon,  this  is  another  example  of  how  technology 
can  come  to  drive  human  action,  rather  than  carefully  thought 
out  human  values  determining  when  and  how  a  particular 
technology  will  be  used.  He  traces  this  anomaly  to  the  values 
of  the  free  market  system  and  to  our  notion  that  progress  is 
linear.  Not  all  cultures  share  this  notion,  he  says;  some  don't 
even  have  a  model  of  progress. 

Indian  culture,  for  example,  has  historically  been 
governed  by  a  cyclical  model  of  time. 
"Obviously,  you  progress  in  time, 
but  it's  not  directional,"  he  says.  "We 
in  the  West  have  the  sense  that  we're 
going  somewhere,  even  though  we 
may  not  know  where  that  somewhere 
is.  The  direction  is  typically  upward 
and  clearly  forward." 

The  hospital  "crash  cart"  is  an 
example  of  how  progress  can  be 
seen  as  inevitable.  Every  hospital 
floor  has  a  crash  cart  for  emergency 
resuscitation,  Shannon  says.  "Well, 
there  it  is.  Now  what  happens  if  you 
don't  use  it?  Well,  you  get  chewed 
out  for  having  equipment  that  you 
don't  use.  And  because  you're  not 
using  it  this  year,  you  can't  buy  any 
new  technology  next  year.  So  you 
use  it.  And  you  don't  always  ask, 
'Should  we  use  it?'  Its  very  presence 
there — and  the  economic  context — 
really  mandate  its  use." 

Shannon  has  applied  his  willing- 
ness to  ask  questions  and  peel  back 
each  layer  of  an  issue  to  a  number  of 
other  polarizing  topics,  including 
abortion.  In  doing  so  he  has  often 
taken  a  careful  look  at  the  science 
behind  the  issues.  For  example,  in  a  paper  titled  "Reflections  on 
the  Moral  Status  of  the  Pre-embryo"  published  in  Theological 
Studies,  Shannon  and  Allan  B.  Wolter,  O.F.M.,  examine  in  meticu- 
lous detail  the  development  of  the  fertilized  egg  in  an  attempt 
to  establish  when  one  can  begin  to  refer  to  it  as  an  indi- 
vidual human  being.  Their  goal  was  to  encourage  theologians 
to  take  biology  into  account  in  discussions  about  abortion. 

"The  best  of  medieval  theologians  argued  within  the 
context  of  their  knowledge  of  biology,"  Shannon  says.  "We're 
simply  doing  the  same  thing  with  our  model.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  only  reasonable  way  to  discuss  any  kind  of  biological 
entity  is  to  discuss  it  within  the  frame  of  reference  in  which 
you  understand  it,  which  is  biology.  But  it's  a  model  capable 
of  enormous  revision,  so  you  have  to  keep  rethinking  in 
light  of  new  knowledge." 

In  his  classes  at  WPI,  Shannon  tries  to  get  his  students  to 
apply  similar  analyses  to  ethical  issues.  In  particular,  he 
teaches  them  that  there  are  such  things  as  better  arguments 
and  worse  arguments  and  urges  them  to  learn  to  distinguish 
one  from  the  other,  not  only  in  his  class,  but  in  the  work  they 
will  do  as  engineers,  scientists  and  managers.  This  approach 
has  helped  make  him  one  of  the  Institute's  most  popular 
instructors  (he  was  rated  the  best  college  professor  in  the  city 
in  a  Worcester  Magazine  readers'  poll  a  few  years  back). 
Students  say  Shannon's  classes  challenge  them  to  express 
their  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  to  marshall  arguments  to 
support  their  views. 


he  best  of  medieval 

theologians  argued  within  the 

context  of  their  knowledge  of 

biology.  We're  simply  doing  the 

same  thing  with  our  model.  It 

seems  to  me  that  the  only 

reasonable  way  to  discuss  any 

kind  of  biological  entity  is  to 

discuss  it  within  the  frame  of 

reference  in  which  you  understand 

it,  which  is  biology.  But  it's  a  model 

capable  of  enormous  revision,  so  you 

have  to  keep  rethinking  in  light 

of  new  knowledge. 


Shannon  says  his  own  views  about  ethical  issues  have 
been  shaped,  in  part,  by  his  moral  and  religious  background. 
He  entered  a  seminary  as  a  young  boy,  an  experience  he  says 
exposed  him  to  the  world  of  scholarship — a  world  for  which 
he  seemed  well  suited.  He  was  later  ordained  a  Catholic 
priest,  though  by  the  time  he  reached  his  early  thirties  he 
had  come  to  realize  that  he  was  better  suited  temperamen- 
tally for  a  secular  life.  He  requested  and  was  granted  a 
dispensation  from  his  vows. 

His  leaving  the  priesthood  was 
not,  however,  a  departure  from  the 
Catholic  Church.  His  years  in  the 
church  helped  shape  his 
views  on  medical  ethics  and  the 
morality  of  war,  and  also  gave  rise 
to  an  ongoing  interest  in  method- 
ology, especially  in  Roman  Catholic 
moral  theology.  Shannon  is  re- 
spected in  Catholic  theological 
circles,  even  if  his  views  are  not 
always  in  sync  with  the  highest 
levels  of  the  church.  For  example, 
his  article  on  the  moral  status  of  the 
pre-embryo  prompted  a  six-page 
letter  from  the  National  Council  of 
Catholic  Bishops,  which  noted  that 
the  views  he  and  Wolter  expressed 
were  "open  to  dispute." 

Shannon's  debates  with  Catho- 
lic dogma  stem  from  his  dedication 
to  weighing,  not  just  theological 
and  moral  issues,  but  the  most 
up-to-date  research  in  biology 
and  medicine.  His  arguments  have 
also  benefited  from  his  efforts  to 
experience  firsthand  the  reality  of 
modern  medical  practice.  Since 
1987  he  has  been  a  member  of  the  Ethics  Committee  of 
Memorial  Hospital  in  Worcester  (now  the  Medical  Center  of 
Central  Massachusetts — Memorial),  where  he  goes  on  ob- 
stetrics and  gynecology  rounds  with  physicians  and  nurses 
and  also  conducts  regular  ethics  rounds,  particularly  in  the 
neonatal  unit. 

"The  purpose  of  ethics  rounds  is  to  alert  physicians  to 
the  fact  that  the  issues  they  face  are  not  exclusively  medical," 
he  says,  "that  there  are  ethical  issues,  value  issues,  choice 
issues  (the  patient's),  and  cost  issues  that  go  along  with  a 
particular  treatment." 

For  several  years  Shannon  was  also  a  part-time  associate 
professor  of  medical  ethics  at  the  University  of  Massachu- 
setts Medical  Center  in  Worcester,  the  only  teaching 
hospital  in  the  state  university  system.  While  there  he 
directed  the  ethics  segment  of  a  program  that  instructed 
young  physicians  in  patient  care. 

With  those  young  physicians,  as  well  as  with  the  students 
who  take  his  courses  at  WPI,  he  has  always  endeavored  to 
impart  a  sense  that  there  are  no  questions  that  can't  be  asked, 
for  it  is  only  by  avoiding  the  tough  questions  that  our  society 
will  continue  to  blindly  embrace  new  technology. 

"Don't  be  afraid  of  progress,"  he  says,  "but  don't  let  it 
become  our  master.  We  have  to  recognize  that  as  human 
beings  we  have  built-in  limits.  So  we  have  to  think  about  our 
sense  of  priorities,  and  be  cautious  in  our  expectations  of 
what  modern  medicine  can  do  for  us." 


WPI  Journal 


25 


Meeting  the  Need  to  Lead: 
Thoughts  on  the  WPI  Experience 


m-+-m 


By  Francis  C.  Lutz,  Dean  of  Undergraduate  Studies 


Editor's  note:  Each  fall  WPI's  New  Student  Orientation  gives  entering  freshmen  a  chance  to  get  used  to  their  new 
school — and  to  learn  about  the  ins  and  outs  of  student  life  at  the  Institute — before  the  rush  of  classes  begins. 

In  between  the  talks  on  residence  hall  living,  the  grading  system,  computer  resources  and  so  on,  these  young 
scholars  spend  a  few  minutes  with  the  dean  of  undergraduate  studies,  whose  duty  it  is  to  share  with  them  his  own 
vision  of  what  makes  the  Institute  a  special  place,  and  to  introduce  them  to  the  intellectual  adventure  on  which 
they  are  about  to  embark. 

The  following  is  excerpted  from  the  talk  Frank  Lutz  gave  last  fall  to  the  students  of  the  Class  of  1995  and  their 
parents — his  first  such  address  as  dean  of  undergraduate  studies.  As  the  WPI  community  prepares  for  the  start 
of  yet  another  academic  year — with  all  of  the  achievements  and  challenges  it  will  bring — we  thought  it  might  be 
worthwhile  to  take  a  look  back  at  this  timely  message. 


26 


Summer  1992 


n 

m  ood  afternoon.  As  members  of  the  Class  of  1995,  you 

I      W  are  now  part  of  a  community  of  scholars  in  a  place 
■      ■  where  liberal  learning  and  creativity  are  held  in 
V^^  honor.  In  fact,  the  faculty  here  value  learning  so 
much  that  two  decades  ago  they  created  a  curriculum  that, 
with  proper  effort  on  your  part,  will  prepare  you  uniquely 
well  for  the  challenges  that  face  this  nation  and  the  world 
as  we  approach  the  next  millennium. 

Today  I'd  like  to  tell  you  how  I  think  a  WPI  education  will 
help  prepare  you  for  the  future.  But  before  I  do,  let  me  tell 
you  something  about  myself.  I  came  to  WPI  in  1972  as  an 
assistant  professor  of  civil  engineering.  I'd  intended  to  stay 
for  just  a  year  or  two,  but  have  instead  been  here  for  nearly 
two  decades.  I  hope  you  find  the  same  feeling  of  community 
that  keeps  me  here.  (Of  course,  I  hope  you  earn  your  de- 
grees in  fewer  than  20  years!) 

In  1974  my  wife  and  I  moved  to  Washington,  D.C.,  to  open 
WPI's  first  off-campus  project  center.  The  year  before,  I  and 
the  students  selected  to  undertake  the  first  projects  in  Wash- 
ington had  traveled  there  to  meet  with  representatives  of  the 
agencies  that  proposed  those  projects  and  to  lay  the  ground- 
work for  the  center.  While  in  Washington,  we  stayed  at  the 
Howard  Johnson  Hotel  from  which  the  Watergate  break-in 
had  been  coordinated. 

It  was  a  memorable  experience  to  be  establishing  a  pro- 
gram in  our  nation's  capital  while  impeachment  proceedings 
were  under  way  against  the  president  of  the  United  States. 
Since  then,  some  600  students  have  completed  projects  in 
Washington — something  of  which  I  am  quite  proud. 

What  else  of  consequence  was  happening  around  that 
time?  Well  for  one,  most  of  you  were  born.  In  addition,  New 
York's  World  Trade  Center  was  completed;  Billy  Joel  released 
his  Piano  Man  album;  Thomas  Pynchon  published  Gravity's 
Rainbow;  the  Apollo  moon  landing  program  ended;  Skylab 
was  launched;  and  the  selective  service  ended,  as  did  two 
decades  of  U.S.  military  involvement  in  Vietnam. 

The  parents  here  today  have  quite  personal  memories  of 
those  events;  the  students  remember  them  as  history — as 
you  would  any  event  that  occurred  before  your  birth.  Years 
from  now,  you  will  have  vivid  memories  of  some  of  today's 
events,  especially  the  turmoil  taking  place  in  Russia.  The 
coup  placed  Glasnost  and  Perestroika  in  jeopardy,  but 
freedom  is  too  appealing  to  be  denied.  The  free-market 
economy,  even  with  its  imperfections,  is  a  better  provider 
than  communism. 

The  world  is  changing,  and  it  will  continue  to  change  rap- 
idly. Germany's  reunification  came  upon  us  with  surprising 
speed.  The  European  Economic  Community  is  poised  to  be- 
come a  formidable  global  economic  force.  In  1997  Hong  Kong 
will  no  longer  be  a  British  colony. 

Each  of  these  events — and  the  manner  in  which  our  lives 
are  influenced  by  them — will  be  colored  by  the  technological 
advances  of  your  lifetimes.  But  the  social  and  cultural  forces 
at  work  are  also  critical  to  an  understanding  of  how  these  in- 
fluences will  be  felt  by  the  people  of  the  world. 

The  sense  of  ethics  that  led  to  the  resignation  of  Richard 
Nixon,  the  craving  for  freedom  moving  Eastern  Europe  to- 
ward democracy,  the  fear  of  the  unknown  and  the  repudia- 
tion of  the  past  that  Russians  feel  today,  the  genuine  desire 
for  German  to  reunite  with  German,  and  the  concern  moth- 
ers and  fathers  in  Hong  Kong  feel  for  the  futures  of  their  chil- 
dren— these  are  all  elements  of  our  world  that  deserve  your 


The  late  professor  Thorn  Hammond,  left,  with  two 
WPI  students  in  the  early  days  of  the  Washington, 
D.C.,  Project  Center.  Founded  during  the  Water- 
gate crisis,  the  center  opened  in  1974,  shortly 
after  the  resignation  of  President  Nixon. 

study.  At  WPI  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to  meet  fellow 
students  from  these  and  other  regions  of  the  world — to  learn 
from  them  and  to  benefit  from  the  differences  they  share 
with  you. 

We  are  each  of  us  different.  And  in  an  atmosphere  of  re- 
spect for  intellectual  discourse,  we  should  celebrate  those 
differences.  We  should  be  moving  closer  to  achieving  Martin 
Luther  King's  dream  of  a  world  where  all  people  are  judged 
not  by  the  color  of  their  skin,  but  by  the  content  of  their 
character. 

There  are  many  things  to  learn  beyond  the  world  of  aca- 
demics, and  you  will  be  encouraged  to  learn  them  while  you 
are  here — things  like  a  code  of  ethics,  a  standard  of  conduct 
and  a  sense  of  honor.  It's  from  these  sources  of  learning  that 
hope  for  the  future  draws  its  strength. 

I'd  like  to  share  three  quotations  with  you.  The  first  is  by 
Mark  Twain,  who  once  said — and  I'm  paraphrasing — that 
when  he  was  a  boy  of  14,  his  father  was  so  ignorant  he  could 
hardly  stand  to  have  him  around.  But  when  he  got  to  be  21, 
he  was  astonished  at  how  much  the  old  man  had  learned  in 
just  seven  years. 

The  second  is  by  Plutarch,  who  wrote  that  the  mind  is 
not  a  vessel  to  be  filled,  but  a  flame  to  be  kindled.  The  last 
is  from  a  Commencement  speech  that  Rossiter  W.  Raymond 
delivered  at  WPI  in  1879.  Speaking  about  WPI's  educational 
program,  Raymond  said: 

"First,  it  is  an  experiment;  secondly,  as  far  as  the  experi- 
ment has  gone,  it  has  resulted  in  a  highly  satisfactory  degree 
of  success.  The  problem  of  education  is  a  progressive  one. 
The  conditions  are  perpetually  changing,  and  to  a  certain 
extent,  these  changing  conditions  peremptorily  dictate 
corresponding  changes  in  means  and  methods." 

These  quotations  convey  much  about  WPI:  about  the 


WPI  Journal 


27 


Above,  Professor  Fred  J.  Looft  III,  left,  and  Dino  Roberti  '85  look  over  the  first 
MITRE/WPI  experiment  package.  For  Randall  Briggs  '86,  opposite,  an  IQP  was 
the  start  of  a  research  project  that  led  to  his  pursuing  a  Ph.D.  at  WPI. 


faculty's  focus  on  education  as  a  continual 
process  of  learning  that  there  is  always 
more  to  learn;  about  the  emphasis  we  place 
on  creativity  and  inspiration,  which  provide 
the  motivation  to  learn;  and  about  the  inno- 
vative spirit  of  experimentation  and  striving 
to  be  more  than  we  would  otherwise  be, 
which  we  seek  to  instill  in  our  students. 

As  you  think  about  the  time  between 
now  and  May  1995  (a  time  that  will  pass 
all  too  quickly),  I  hope  you  keep  these 
thoughts  in  mind.  As  you  prepare  yourself 
to  play  leadership  roles  in  engineering,  sci- 
ence, business,  education,  politics  or  gov- 
ernment, these  aspects  of  a  WPI  education 
will  serve  you  well. 

WPI's  educational  program  is  particu- 
larly well-suited  to  those  students  who  feel 
what  I  have  come  to  call  the  need  to  lead. 
Who  are  these  people?  They  are 

•  Those  who  recognize  the  country's  need 
for  leaders  who  can  recapture  our  inter- 
national competitiveness 

•  Those  who  take  no  pride  in  the  failure 
of  our  elementary  and  secondary  edu- 
cational systems 

•  Those  who  recognize  that  we  will  need 
new  design  approaches  to  keep  our 
country's  man-made  infrastructure  from 
collapsing 

•  Those  who  see  the  enormously  impor- 
tant wave  of  economic  and  social  change 
sweeping  the  world  as  a  movement  in 
which  to  participate,  not  just  observe 


•  And  those  who  see  as  a  social  need  and 
a  vast  economic  opportunity  the  con- 
struction of  an  infrastructure  to  help 
meet  the  needs  of  Eastern  Europe, 
Russia,  Southeast  Asia,  Latin  and  South 
America,  Africa  and  the  lesser-developed 
countries 

Before  I  talk  about  the  special  attributes 
of  WPI's  academic  programs,  it  might  be 
valuable  to  go  over  some  of  the  unique 
aspects  of  the  WPI  Plan.  Our  academic  year 
consists  of  four  seven-week  terms.  Students 
take  three  courses  each  term  (each  is  worth 
1/3  unit — 16  units  equals  four  years  of 
study;  15  units  are  needed  to  graduate).  The 
only  grades  awarded  are  A,  B  and  C  (grade 
reports  that  are  blank  because  a  student 
earned  less  than  a  C  in  every  course  are 
called  snowflakes  in  WPI  slang). 

To  graduate,  a  student  must  complete 
four  physical  education  courses,  broad  dis- 
tribution requirements  in  areas  of  study  per- 
tinent to  his  or  her  major,  two  social  science 
courses,  a  Major  Qualifying  Project  or  MQP 
(which  deals  with  a  problem  in  one's  major 
field  of  study),  an  Interactive  Qualifying 
Project  or  IQP  (which  relates  science  and 
technology  to  social  concerns  and  human 
needs),  and  a  Sufficiency  or  minor  in  the 
humanities. 

Now,  how  does  this  hodgepodge  prepare 
you  for  leadership?  Well,  the  faculty  might 
say  that  you  will  never  be  marked  with  a  fail- 
ing grade  for  trying  to  master  the  content 


and  concepts  of  any  course  at  WPI,  for  if 
you  are  indeed  lamps  to  be  lit,  and  not  buck- 
ets to  be  filled,  we  shouldn't  dampen  your 
spirits  by  labeling  you  a  failure. 

Equally  important,  with  seven-week 
terms  you  will  not  be  burdened  to  the  point 
of  distraction  by  juggling  six  courses  at  the 
same  time,  struggling  to  master  more  facts 
than  you  can  possibly  assimilate.  At  WPI 
you  will  be  responsible  for  three  courses  or 
their  project  equivalents  at  any  one  time.  Of 
course,  you  will  be  responsible  for  learning 
the  content  of  those  courses  fully,  a  respon- 
sibility that  should  require  more  of  you  than 
you  might  think. 

Then  there  are  the  projects — the  MQP, 
IQP  and  Humanities  Sufficiency.  The  prac- 
tice of  engineering,  the  conduct  of  scientific 
inquiry,  and  the  management  of  organiza- 
tions do  not  depend  on  turning  in  home- 
work, but  on  completing  projects  on  time. 
To  tackle  projects  one  needs  a  mastery  of 
technical  disciplines  (you  will  develop  that 
by  turning  in  your  homework),  a  command 
of  scheduling,  the  ability  to  work  as  part  of 
a  team,  and  communication  skills.  Above  all, 
one  needs  the  ability  to  synthesize  informa- 
tion and  solve  problems. 

Certain  of  the  projects  prepare  you  for 
challenges  that  lie  beyond  the  narrow  con- 
fines of  your  technical  discipline.  Few  engi- 
neers and  scientists  remain  strictly  within 
their  original  disciplines  for  more  than  a 
decade  or  so.  Successful  practitioners  often 
move  into  management,  where  they  must 
work  with  and  compete  against  graduates  of 
liberal  arts  programs.  In  addition,  engineers 
and  scientists  must  offer  leadership — not 
just  in  technology  development,  but  in  the 
public  use  of  that  technology. 

No  matter  what  your  major,  the  MQP 
should  provide  a  culminating  experience  in 
that  discipline,  help  you  develop  self-confi- 
dence, enhance  your  communication  skills, 
and  ensure  that  you  can  synthesize  the  fun- 
damental concepts  of  the  field.  If  your  major 
is  chemistry,  you  will  achieve  these  goals  in 
the  laboratory,  using  state-of-the-art  tech- 
nology to  examine  advancing  theory.  If  you 
major  in  management,  your  MQP  will  likely 
focus  on  the  increasing  role  that  technology 
plays  in  modern  production.  In  mathemat- 
ics, you  might  complete  a  theoretical  thesis 
exploring  graph  theory  or  the  motion  of 
stellar  systems. 

With  the  diversity  of  intellectual  oppor- 
tunities available — a  real  strength  of  the 
MQP  program — the  learning  experience 
can  be  tailored  to  the  educational  needs 
and  individual  interests  of  each  student. 
Still,  this  diversity  can  get  in  the  way  of 
forming  a  true  picture  of  the  benefits  of  the 
MQP.  Because  so  many  of  you  are  engineer- 
ing majors,  and  because  design  is  so  integral 


28 


Summer  1992 


to  the  engineer's  experience,  let  me  use  a 
group  of  engineering-design  projects  as  an 
example  of  the  substantive  experience  of 
the  MQP. 

The  M1TRE/WPI  space  shuttle  projects 
program  produced  an  experimental  pay- 
load  that  was  launched  on  the  space  shuttle 
Columbia  on  June  5, 1991.  We  are  now  de- 
coding and  analyzing  the  experimental  data 
that  the  package  gathered.  The  experiments 
were  developed  by  undergraduate  students 
working  with  WP1  faculty  in  MQP  teams  and 
were  financially  and  technically  supported 
by  NASA,  MITRE  Corp.,  AT&T,  Raytheon, 
Digital  Equipment  Corp.,  Norton,  General 
Electric  and  many  other  sponsors.  (MITRE's 
support  has  been  continuous  since  the  start 
of  the  program  in  1982;  the  corporation  is 
now  helping  WPI  students  develop  a  second 
set  of  experiments  we  hope  to  launch  during 
your  academic  careers  here.) 

Among  the  experiments  was  one  that 
sought  to  grow  large  and  potentially 
valuable  zeolite  crystals  in  microgravity. 


Another  studied  the  behavior  of  fluids  in 
space.  Student  teams  also  developed  an 
electronic  system  to  record  data  on  the  en- 
vironment inside  the  canister  that  housed 
the  experiments;  the  power  supply  and  dis- 
tribution systems;  the  control  and  monitor- 
ing systems;  and  a  physical  structure  to 
support  and  protect  all  of  this.  Typical  of 
WPI,  the  payload  also  carried  an  experiment 
on  film  fogging  designed  by  a  sixth-grader. 

Just  as  engineers  in  the  real  world  must 
face  trade-offs,  the  students  had  to  deter- 
mine how  much  of  the  package's  limited 
space  and  weight  to  allocate  to  each  experi- 
ment and  how  much  battery  power  each 
would  be  allowed.  This  was  a  valuable  ex- 
perience. As  a  result,  1  can  assure  you  that 
while  there  is  a  lot  of  good  solid  science  and 
engineering  in  the  experiments,  there  is  also 
a  lot  of  camaraderie,  long  nights  of  trial  and 
error,  friendships  and  linked  careers. 

Some  of  you  may  find  the  idea  that  your 
graduation  will  depend  on  the  completion 
of  a  project  like  this  a  little  intimidating.  I 


can  assure  you  that  the  shuttle  program 
students  had  the  same  feeling  when  they 
were  starting  their  college  careers.  They 
stretched  themselves,  and  their  project 
advisors  were  there  to  help.  Think  of  the 
special  feeling  those  students  (now  alumni) 
must  have  today.  Then  think  about  how  the 
faculty  must  feel  about  the  accomplish- 
ments of  those  students. 

Just  as  it  will  not  be  possible  for  a  truly 
educated  person  of  the  next  century  to  be 
ignorant  of  technology,  nor  can  a  techni- 
cally based  education  be  thought  of  as  well- 
rounded  unless  it  has  a  strong  liberal  arts 
component.  Recognizing  the  growing  impor- 
tance of  the  interaction  between  technology 
and  society,  the  WPI  faculty  developed  the 
idea  of  the  IQP  in  the  early  1970s. 

Today  WPI  is  providing  opportunities  for 
students  to  complete  their  IQPs  at  project 
centers  around  the  world.  In  addition  to  the 
center  I  helped  establish  in  Washington, 
D.C.,  we  now  have  residential  programs  in 
London,  San  Francisco,  and  San  Juan, 


WPI  Journal 


29 


Christina  G.  Correia  '92  worked  on  basic  research  in 
genetics  for  her  MQP,  one  of  a  wide  range  of  ways 
undergraduates  can  complete  this  versatile  project. 


Puerto  Rico.  We  have  project  programs  in 
Bangkok,  Hong  Kong,  Taipei  and  Venice.  WPI 
has  also  established  foreign  exchange  pro- 
gram agreements  with  technical  universities 
in  Belgium,  Canada,  Ecuador,  France,  Ger- 
many, Ireland,  Italy,  Russia,  Sweden  and 
Switzerland.  The  learning  opportunities 
in  these  countries  create  an  atmosphere  in 
which  students  can  fully  appreciate  the  glo- 
bal scope  of  the  interactions  between  social 
and  technical  forces. 

As  you  might  imagine,  topics  for  IQPs 
cover  a  broad  spectrum.  For  example,  one 
IQP  group,  working  with  the  National  Asso- 
ciation of  Manufacturers  at  the  Washington, 
D.C.,  Project  Center,  reviewed  federal  policy 
on  Superfund  cleanups  and  its  likely  impact 
on  corporate  decision  making.  Several  years 
ago  a  student  analyzed  the  potential  envi- 
ronmental impacts  of  mining  on  the  moon. 
He  recently  received  his  Ph.D.  in  chemical 
engineering  at  WPI,  completing  his  doctoral 
thesis  on  the  feasibility  of  mining  ilmenite 
on  the  moon  to  extract  oxygen  for  a  lunar 
base.  I  think  Robert  Goddard,  a  member  of 
WPI's  Class  of  1908,  would  be  proud. 

Interactive  Qualifying  Projects  like  these 
have  reinforced  in  the  minds  of  the  faculty 
the  notion  that  integration  is  a  powerful 
educational  concept.  At  WPI  that  notion  is 
particularly  true  in  the  humanities.  A  few  de- 
cades ago,  dissatisfied  with  the  superficial 
approach  to  the  humanities  traditionally 
taken  here  and  at  other  colleges  and  univer- 
sities of  science  and  engineering,  the  Insti- 
tute created  the  Humanities  Sufficiency.  It 
has  become  the  core  of  the  college's  com- 
mitment to  the  humanities  as  an  integral 


part  of  the  education  of 
scientists  and  engineers. 

Perhaps  the  best  way  to 
illustrate  the  nature  of  the 
Sufficiency  is  to  provide  two 
examples.  To  complete  this 
degree  requirement,  students 
must  take  a  thematically  re- 
lated sequence  of  five  humani- 
ties courses  and  complete  a 
culminating  research  project. 

Here  are  the  courses  one 
student  took: 

•  History  of  Technology 

•  European  Technological 
Development 

•  American  Science  and 
Technology  to  1859 

•  American  Science  and 
Technology  from  1859 

•  Science,  Technology 
and  Society 

His  Sufficiency  was  called 
Yorktown  and  Gettysburg:  A 
Comparative  Study  of  Strategy, 
Tactics  and  Technology. 
Another  student  took  these  courses: 

•  History  of  Technology 

•  Concepts  in  Philosophy  and  Religion 

•  Religion  and  Social  Ethics 

•  Religions  of  the  World 

•  Religions  of  the  East 

The  Sufficiency  was  titled  The  Engineer 
as  a  Whistle  Blower. 


You  may  not  have  given  much  thought  to 
how  the  humanities  can  make  you  a  better 
electrical  engineer;  please  give  it  consider- 
able thought. 

I've  said  the  WPI  Plan  will  prepare  you 
for  the  future.  But  what  will  that  future  hold 
for  you?  Well,  the  engineer  of  the  third  mil- 
lennium will  probably  have  to  make  more 
out  of  less,  designing  to  conserve  already 
severely  depleted  resources.  She  will  work 
with  machines  so  complex  that  design  ad- 
justments will  be  made  to  "words"  in  com- 
puter programs,  rather  than  to  actual  bolts 
or  nuts. 

Her  education  must  give  her  a  breadth 
of  vision  sufficient  to  see  real  social  needs, 
as  well  as  a  depth  of  technical  competence 
that  will  enable  her  to  design  more  than  just 
"gadgets  of  gratification."  In  short,  it  must 
be  an  education  that  is  professional  in  con- 
tent and  liberal  in  scope. 

What  else  will  your  future  hold,  and  how 
will  your  world  differ  from  mine  and  that  of 
your  parents?  My  generation  saw  the  con- 
struction of  the  Berlin  Wall;  it  also  saw  John 
Kennedy  predict  its  demise  with  the  simple 
but  powerful  declaration,  "Ich  bin  ein  Ber- 
liner." Most  of  you  were  alive  for  neither 
event,  but  in  typically  unpredictable  fash- 
ion, you  saw  the  wall  come  tumbling  down. 

No  matter  how  encouraging,  the  changes 
we  are  observing  in  Russia  and  Eastern 
Europe  are  a  beginning,  not  an  end.  What 
we  are  seeing  is  the  consequence  of  man's 


Many  students,  including  Beth  A.  Buscher  '89  and  Michael  J.  Carroll  '89,  standing, 
complete  their  IQPs  by  helping  improve  science  education  in  the  public  schools. 


30 


Summer  1992 


From  left,  Daniel  J.  Smith  '91 ,  Tony  M.  Yee  '91  and  James  C.  Wilkinson  '91  completed 
an  IQP  at  WPI's  London  Project  Center,  one  of  several  international  project  programs. 


desire  for  freedom.  These  events  hint  at  a 
more  hopeful  time  than  we've  known  before, 
but  putting  in  place  the  economic  infra- 
structures of  a  free  enterprise  system  in 
those  regions  will  be  an  arduous  task,  re- 
quiring truly  educated  leadership.  I  chal- 
lenge you  to  make  your  contributions,  and 
to  take  your  places  among  those  leaders. 

When  the  European  Economic  Commu- 
nity unites  at  the  end  of  1992,  it  will  mount 
an  extraordinary  challenge  to  America's 
economic  future;  that  challenge  will  also  be 
an  extraordinary  opportunity  for  the  begin- 
ning of  the  third  millennium.  It  is  an  oppor- 
tunity for  which  you  will  be  well-prepared. 

You  will  also  be  well-prepared  to  appreci- 
ate the  plight  of  the  children  of  Hong  Kong 
in  1997,  and  perhaps  to  lend  them  a  hand. 
Last  year  a  group  of  WPI  students  com- 
pleted an  IQP  there  in  cooperation  with  the 
Office  of  the  Registrar  General.  They  sat 
over  strong  tea  and  discussed  the  implica- 
tions of  changes  to  Hong  Kong's  Basic  Law. 
Other  WPI  students  with  equally  important 
projects  to  undertake  will  assume  their 
places  in  Hong  Kong,  in  Washington  D.C., 
in  San  Francisco,  in  Venice,  in  London,  in 
Bangkok,  in  Taipei,  and  in  San  Juan.  Where 
will  your  place  be? 

Alvin  Toeffler's  Future  Shock  of  two  de- 
cades ago  brings  to  mind  our  inability  to  re- 


spond to  rapid  change.  We  at  WPI  must,  as  a 
recognized  world  leader  of  innovation  in  un- 
dergraduate education,  be  comfortable  with 
change  and  encourage  change  relevant  to 
the  professions  to  which  our  students  aspire. 

For  example,  we  have  a  special  obliga- 
tion to  help  improve  precollege  education 
in  America.  The  parents  here  today  should 
realize  that  their  sons'  and  daughters'  gen- 
eration includes  shocking  numbers  of  indi- 
viduals who  will  never  acquire  even  the 
basic  skills  of  literacy.  They  will  be  the  core 
of  America's  work  force,  the  men  and  women 
with  whom  your  children — our  students — 
will  work  to  produce  the  world's  goods  and 
services. 

We  must  take  our  obligation  to  improve 
precollege  learning  quite  seriously.  In  that 
vein,  I  ask  every  student  here  today  to  con- 
sider volunteer  service  during  your  college 
career.  Think  of  how  you  might  contribute  to 
the  learning  process  for  someone  less  fortu- 
nate than  yourself— a  youngster  struggling 
with  concepts  you've  already  mastered.  De- 
velop a  pattern  of  giving  of  yourself. 

Feeling  comfortable  with  change  requires 
dialogue,  thoughtful  reflection  and  rational 
debate— that's  what  we  do  well  here  at  WPI. 
Our  curriculum  is  designed  to  develop  these 
critical  thinking  skills,  to  make  you  aware  of 
your  responsibilities  to  society,  and  to  help 


you  apply  your  technical  abilities  and  know- 
ledge to  the  solutions  of  significant  problems. 

Without  doubt,  given  enough  resources, 
time  and  effort,  today's  technology  can  solve 
many  problems,  and  can  advance  our  collec- 
tive understanding  and  social  accomplish- 
ment significantly.  Already  during  my  lifetime, 
I've  seen  the  development  of  a  polio  vaccine, 
the  untold  promises  of  recombinant  DNA 
technology,  the  Apollo  program's  giant  leap, 
satellite  communications,  and  the  explora- 
tion of  the  solar  system.  But  technology  can 
bring  unanticipated  problems  as  well  as  ben- 
efits. The  challenge  to  today's  generation  is 
to  answer  the  question  of  which  technology 
should  be  brought  to  bear  on  which  of 
society's  problems. 

WPI  is  much  more  than  an  academic 
community  of  high  intellectual  standards.  It 
is  also  an  environment  carefully  crafted  to 
allow  each  student  to  meet  those  standards 
in  his  or  her  own  way.  College  is  many  things 
to  many  people:  it's  the  making  of  lifelong 
friendships;  it's  the  process  of  learning  to 
learn;  it's  a  passage  to  scholarship;  it's  a  com- 
munity of  traditions  and  common  values;  and 
it's  a  spirit  of  respect  for  intellectual  inquiry. 

At  WPI,  the  college  experience  includes 
feeling  Alumni  Gymnasium  shake  from  the 
roar  of  the  crowd  at  a  home  wrestling  match; 
walking  through  Alden  Memorial  on  a  rainy 
day  and  sharing  thoughts  with  the  portraits 
of  the  Institute's  founders;  and  walking  in 
the  footsteps  of  former  students  like  Robert 
Goddard. 

It's  remarkable  that  WPI's  faculty  has 
remained  true  to  the  commitment  to  educa- 
tional innovation  that  Rossiter  Raymond  ad- 
mired in  his  Commencement  address  more 
than  a  century  ago.  The  consequence  of  that 
commitment  is  that  the  WPI  curriculum  is  an 
innovative,  substantive  response  to  the  need 
to  lead. 

It's  a  preparation  for  those  who  have  the 
potential  to  recognize  their  deeper  responsi- 
bilities to  society,  and  to  accept  a  leadership 
role,  helping  to  set  the  direction  of  techno- 
logical advancement  for  the  country.  It's  a 
preparation  that  results  in  scientific  and 
quantitative  competence,  a  humanist's  under- 
standing of  the  applications  of  science  and 
technology,  and  an  appreciation  for  the  social 
and  cultural  influences  of  the  world  in  which 
we  live.  In  Mark  Twain's  view,  it  leads  one  to 
appreciate  all  we  have  yet  to  learn. 

I  hope  your  time  at  WPI  will  prepare  you 
well  to  seek  that  undiscovered  knowledge.  I 
hope  you  will  find  as  you  receive  your  degrees 
four  years  from  now  that  we  have  met  our 
obligation  to  you  and  to  Plutarch,  to  fire  your 
imaginations,  to  kindle  your  creative  spirit 
and  to  ignite  your  hunger  to  learn.  And  once 
lit,  I  hope  your  flames  burn  brightly  and  truly 
illuminate  the  world. 


WPI  Journal 


31 


FINAL  WORD 


Karen  Berka: 
The  Nancy  Drew  of  the  Crime  Lab 


As  a  young  girl,  Karen  M.  Berka  '86 
was  addicted  to  Nancy  Drew  mys- 
tery novels.  Today,  like  the  young 
heroine  of  those  stories,  Berka  also  helps 
track  down  criminals  and  solve  mysteries. 
But  as  a  forensic  chemist  at  the  Indiana 
State  Police  Laboratory  in  Indianapolis, 
she  uses  tools  and  techniques  that  Nancy 
Drew  might  have  found  quite  remarkable. 

"I  detect  crime  not  with  a  badge  and  a 
gun,  but  by  applying  natural  science  to 
matters  of  law,"  Berka  says.  The  daughter 
of  Ladislav  H.  Berka,  professor  of  chemis- 
try at  WP1,  and  Barbara  Berka,  a  science 
teacher  at  the  Bancroft  School  in  Worces- 
ter, she  majored  in  chemistry  at  the  Insti- 
tute and  received  her  bachelor's  degree 
with  distinction.  Inspired  by  a  television 
interview  she  had  seen  as  a  seventh-grader 
with  a  woman  chemist  in  the  Boston  Crime 
Lab,  she  went  on  to  earn  a  master's  degree 
in  forensic  science  with  a  concentration 
in  criminalistics  at  the  University  of  New 
Haven  in  Connecticut. 

Criminalistics  is  the  branch  of  forensic 
science  concerned  with  the  examination  of 
evidence,  such  as  blood,  body  fluids,  hair, 
fibers,  drugs  and  arson  accelerants.  While 
at  the  University  of  New  Haven,  Berka  did 
a  summer  internship  in  the  criminalistics, 
fingerprint  and  firearms  sections  of  the 
Maine  State  Police  Crime  Laboratory.  She 
says  observing  actual  casework  and  help- 
ing chemists  and  state  police  officers 
proved  to  be  a  valuable  experience.  "It 
was  interesting  to  see  how  evidence  was 
received  and  examined  in  the  real  world." 

As  a  graduate  student,  Berka  worked 
as  a  teaching  assistant  in  the  chemistry 
department  and  as  a  research  assistant 
in  the  University  of  New  Haven's  forensic 
science  department.  In  1988,  through  a 
grant  from  the  National  Institute  of  Jus- 
tice, she  began  working  for  the  forensic 
science  department  full  time  as  a  principal 
research  associate. 

Before  joining  the  Indiana  State  Police 


Laboratory,  Berka  conducted  research  at 
the  Connecticut  State  Police  Crime  Labora- 
tory, where  she  helped  develop  reliable 
methods  for  identifying  human  skeletal 
remains.  "The  work  was  based  on  the  fact 
that  human  bone  contains  red  and  white 
blood  cells,"  she  says,  "These  cells  contain 
genetic  material,  such  as  blood-group  sub- 


"I  detect  crime 
not  with  a  badge 

and  a  gun, 

but  by  applying 

natural  science 

to  matters  of  law." 


stances  and  DNA.  We  used  the  genetic  in- 
formation we  obtained  from  the  bones  to 
individualize  them." 

This  technique  should  prove  useful  in 
identifying  victims  of  airplane  crashes  or 
explosions,  when  forensic  scientists  may 
have  only  bone  remains  to  work  with.  In 
cases  where  only  bone  fragments  are 
found,  it  will  be  possible  to  determine  if 
they  come  from  more  than  one  person. 
The  method  may  also  help  in  the  identifi- 
cation of  the  remains  of  soldiers  missing 
in  action  in  Vietnam  and  other  wars. 

From  1988  to  1990,  Berka  and  her  col- 
leagues worked  to  refine  the  method  used 
to  identify  victims'  ABO  blood  types  from 
genetic  material  found  in  the  bones.  Start- 
ing in  1990,  they  concentrated  their  efforts 
on  recovering  sufficient  amounts  of  DNA 


to  further  narrow  the  identification  of 
bone  samples. 

Berka  and  her  research  group  pub- 
lished their  findings  in  several  national  and 
international  forensic  science  journals  and 
made  presentations  at  FBI  symposia  and  at 
professional  meetings  around  the  world. 
Last  year  she  attended  the  International 
Association  of  Forensic  Scientists'  triennial 
meeting  in  Adelaide,  Australia,  where  she 
presented  the  data  in  a  poster  session. 
Delegates  to  the  meeting  came  from  all 
over  the  world,  including  Australia,  En- 
gland, France,  Germany,  Japan  and  Russia. 

"I  made  valuable  contacts  with  many 
scientists  and  police  investigators," 
Berka  says.  After  the  meeting  she  toured 
Australia  and  visited  the  forensic  labs  in 
Adelaide,  Melbourne  and  Sydney.  She  says 
she  found  it  fascinating  to  see  how  another 
country  deals  with  the  analysis  of  crime 
scene  evidence.  She  says  she  hopes  to 
visit  European  forensic  labs  when  she 
travels  to  the  next  international  meeting 
in  Germany  in  1993. 

In  addition  to  performing  research, 
Berka  has  taught  an  introductory  course 
on  forensic  science  for  undergraduates  at 
the  University  of  New  Haven.  She  belongs 
to  Phi  Lambda  Upsilon,  the  chemistry 
honor  society,  and  the  chemistry  and  law 
section  of  the  American  Chemical  Society. 
She  is  a  trainee-affiliate  of  the  American 
Academy  of  Forensic  Science. 

Berka,  who  worked  in  blood  and  body- 
fluid  analysis  during  a  six-month  training 
period  at  the  Indianapolis  crime  labora- 
tory, says  she  is  enjoying  her  new  job. 
"I'm  looking  forward  to  eventually  giving 
testimony  in  the  courtroom,"  she  says. 

She  adds  that  she  still  enjoys  reading 
mystery  novels  and  hopes  to  write  her 
own  mystery  story  based  on  her  knowl- 
edge of  and  experience  in  forensic  science. 
Several  of  her  poems  have  already  been 
published  in  local  literary  magazines. 

—Ruth  Trask 


32 


Summer  1992 


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VOLUME  XCV  NO.  4    FALL  1992 


8 
13 
17 

22 
26 
36 


CONTENTS 


':■       .  .     .' 


Walking  the  Talk  Diane  Benison 

Everybody's  talking  about  total  quality  management  these  days,  but  it  takes 

more  than  talk  to  adopt  this  hot  new  approach  to  managing  enterprises. 

Xerox  Rises  from  the  Ashes  of  Failure  Diane  Benison 

Plagued  by  arrogance  and  lackluster  products,  Xerox  seemed  doomed  to  failure. 

Then  it  discovered  TQM.  What  followed  was  a  remarkable  corporate  turnaround. 

Midwives  to  Change  Diane  Benison 

At  Motorola,  Bausch  &  Lomb,  Hamilton  Standard  and  Polaroid,  WPI  alumni 

are  helping  give  birth  to  highly  successful  TQM  programs. 

Fall  Madness 

In  just  a  few,  frenetic  days  each  fall,  life  at  WPI  is  utterly  transformed  as 
the  students  return  and  make  the  campus  theirs,  once  more. 

A  Stellar  Achievement   Michael  Dorsey 

It  seemed  an  impossible  dream:  build  a  major  crystal  growth  experiment  for  a 

NASA  space  lab  in  just  18  months.  Here's  how  a  team  from  WPI  beat  the  odds. 

Court  of  Honor  Ruth  Trask 

His  compassion  and  fairness  on  the  bench  and  his  efforts  on  behalf  of  the  rights 

of  victims  earned  Ernest  Hayeck  '47  the  title  of  America's  top  judge. 

DEPARTMENTS 


2  Advance  Word:  Not  so  Wild  a  Dream.   Michael  Dorsey 

3  Letters:  Here's  Where  the  Money  Goes  at  WPI; 

Big  Numbers  and  "Wet  Paint"  Signs;  Perspectives  on  Technology  and  Society. 

6     Communique:  What  Does  Quality  Mean  at  WPI?   Diran  Apelian 
40     Final  Word:  Bob  Sinicrope  71  Finds  Joy  and  Fulfillment  in  All  That  Jazz.   Ruth  Trask 

Front  Cover:  Paul  Allaire  at  Xerox  headquarters  in  Stamford,  Conn.  Story  on  page  13.  Photo  by 
Ted  Kawalerski.  Opposite:  Ernest  Hayeck  '47  in  his  Worcester  courtroom.  Story  on  page  36.  Photo  by 
Janet  Woodcock.  Back  Coven  Astronauts  Dick  Richards  and  Bonnie  Dunbar  float  before  WPI's  Zeolite 
Crystal  Growth  Experiment  aboard  the  space  shuttle  Columbia  in  June.  A  photograph  of  Albert  Sacco, 
head  of  WPI's  Chemical  Engineering  Department,  can  be  seen  by  Richard's  left  hand.  Story  on  page  26. 
Photo  courtesy  of  NASA. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Carol  Hoyle  Ballard 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Cleary  '71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82 

•  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  •  William  R.  Grogan  '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams  '50  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128) 
is  published  quarterly  for  the  WPI  Alumni  Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second  class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  MA,  and  additional  mailing  offices. 
Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence 
to  the  Editor,  WPIJournal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  mail  (Internet):  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu. 
Postmaster:  If  undeliverable,  please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  ®1992,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


ADVANCE  WORD 


Not  So  Wild  a  Dream 


On  a  cold,  sunny  day  early  in  1991,  a 
group  of  restless  elementary  school 
students  files  into  the  gymnasium  of 
their  school  in  central  Massachusetts  and 
the  students  sit  in  rows  on  the  floor.  They 
quickly  settle  down  when  the  principal 
stands  to  introduce  a  tall,  muscular  man 
dressed  in  the  familiar  blue  jumpsuit  worn 
by  U.S.  astronauts.  The  speaker  switches 
on  a  slide  projector  and  instantly  trans- 
ports his  young  audience  to  a  dreamlike 
world  where  people  float  gracefully 
through  the  air  and  gaze  down  on  the 
brilliant  blue-green  planet  below  them. 

As  an  alternate  payload  specialist  for 
the  first  United  States  Microgravity  Labora- 
tory (USML-1),  one  of  the  most  ambitious 
missions  ever  flown  aboard  a  NASA  space 
shuttle,  Albert  Sacco  Jr.  has  already  visited 
nearly  3,000  children  in  schools  like  this 
around  the  country,  explaining  how  astro- 
nauts live  and  work  in  space  and  trying  to 
get  the  next  generation  excited  about  the 
prospect  of  someday  traveling  into  the  fi- 
nal frontier  as  scientists  and  engineers. 

For  Sacco,  head  of  WPI's  Chemical 
Engineering  Department,  talking  to  young 
students  about  space  is  truly  a  labor  of 
love,  for  it  was  as  a  youngster  growing  up 
in  Belmont,  Mass.,  that  he  himself  caught 
the  space  bug.  He  was  in  second  grade 
when  the  Soviet  Union  launched  Sputnik. 
Later,  as  a  sixth-grader,  he  thrilled  to  the 
exploits  of  Gagarin,  Shepard  and  Grissom. 
In  those  early  days  of  manned  spaceflight, 
he  decided  that  he,  too,  would  one  day 
know  the  thrill  of  riding  a  pillar  of  flame 
into  orbit. 


Over  the  years,  when  he  was  not  work- 
ing at  Mario's,  the  Boston  restaurant  and 
bar  owned  by  his  former-prizefighter 
father,  or  making  touchdown  passes  as 
the  quarterback  on  the  Belmont  High 
School  football  team,  he  watched  the 
launches  and  splashdowns  on  TV  and 
filled  a  scrapbook  with  news  clippings 
about  the  men  who  rode  the  rockets  of 
Mercury,  Gemini  and  Apollo. 

He  graduated  from  high  school  in  1968, 
just  a  year  before  Neil  Armstrong  took  his 
giant  leap  for  mankind.  Though  his  father 
had  hoped  he  might  become  a  professional 
football  player,  Sacco's  sights 
were  still  set  on  space. 

Knowing  NASA  would  need 
chemical  engineers  to  design 
waste  recycling  systems  for  space- 
craft, he  enrolled  as  a  chemical  en- 
gineering major  at  Northeastern 
University.  In  1973  he  was  ac- 
cepted into  MIT's  Ph.D.  program 
in  chemical  engineering.  With  a 
scholarship  from  NASA,  he  found 
a  way  to  use  the  Bosch  process, 
which  converts  carbon  dioxide 
and  hydrogen  into  water  and  car- 
bon, in  regenerative  life-support 
systems. 

In  1976,  married  and  the  father 
of  two  daughters,  he  applied  to 
become  an  astronaut.  One  year 
before,  three  U.S.  astronauts  had 
docked  their  Apollo  capsule  to  a 
Soviet  Soyuz,  bringing  to  an  end 
the  first  great  era  of  American  space  explo- 
ration. That  era  included  Skylab,  the  first 
U.S.  space  station,  which  had  proven  that 
astronauts  can  perform  worthwhile  scien- 
tific research  in  the  microgravity  environ- 
ment of  low  Earth  orbit.  Sacco  knew  that 
the  space  shuttle  would  build  on  that  suc- 
cess, initiating  a  new  era  of  space  explora- 
tion that  would  demand  a  new  breed  of 
astronauts — space  travelers  drawn  not 
from  the  ranks  of  military  pilots,  but  from 
the  cadre  of  university  researchers. 

After  NASA  turned  him  down,  Sacco 
became  convinced  his  chances  of  follow- 
ing his  heroes  into  space  had  evaporated. 
But,  as  you'll  read  in  the  article  beginning 


on  page  26,  14  years  later,  having  forged 
a  successful  career  as  an  educator  and  re- 
searcher at  WP1,  he  got  a  second  chance. 

While  he  is  a  step  closer  to  realizing  his 
dream,  his  role  as  an  alternate  payload 
specialist  did  not  prove  his  ticket  into 
space.  Having  completed  NASA's  rigorous 
astronaut  training  and  flown  a  successful 
experiment  aboard  USML-1,  Sacco  says 
his  chances  of  flying  on  a  future  mission 
should  be  good,  providing  he  is  willing  to 
go  through  all  over  again  the  more  than 
two  years  of  intensive  preparation  re- 
quired for  the  USML-1  mission. 


As  a  NASA  payload  specialist,  Chemical 
Engineering  Department  Head  Albert 
Sacco  Jr.  has  talked  to  nearly  3,000 
schoolchildren  around  the  nation. 


"I  didn't  have  a  vacation  or  a  holiday 
during  those  two  years,"  he  says.  "I  didn't 
see  my  family  but  maybe  10  or  20  times 
during  that  whole  period.  That  was  a  big 
sacrifice.  Was  it  worth  it?  I  think  so." 

Sacco  won't  say  whether  he  will  grab 
the  chance  to  be  part  of  another  shuttle 
mission  in  a  few  years,  should  NASA  ex- 
tend the  offer.  It's  just  too  soon  to  know 
how  he  will  feel  then,  he  explains.  But  in 
the  end,  his  quest  to  be  a  space  traveler 
may  simply  be  too  big  a  dream  to  set 
aside.  As  he  told  a  writer  for  a  Boston 
newspaper  last  year,  "It's  what  could 
be  that  matters,  not  what  is." 

—Michael  Dorsey 


Fall  1992 


LETTERS 


Here's  Where  the  Money  Goes  at  WPI 


To  the  Editor: 

Ever  since  reading  the  letter  by  Peter 
Schoonmaker  '80  (Letters,  Summer  1992), 
I  have  been  troubled  about  how  to  re- 
spond. This  is  not  because  I  disagree  with 
Peter's  facts,  and  certainly  not  because  1 
disagree  with  the  priorities  he  advances 
for  WPI.  It  is  the  case,  however,  that  we 
have  been  implementing  the  very  priori- 
ties he  outlines:  "(1)  student  financial  aid 
or  tuition  reduction,  (2)  faculty  compensa- 
tion, and  (3)  direct  impact  facilities  such 
as  classrooms,  laboratories  and  student 
housing."  That  is,  in  fact,  exactly  where 
the  money  has  been  going! 

Interestingly,  the  numbers  Peter  quotes 
from  the  1990-91  annual  report  support 
this  assertion.  Table  2  from  the  Spring 
1992  WPI  Journal  has  been  reprinted  here, 
once  again;  I've  augmented  it  with  several 
additional  numbers  and  have  changed  the 
FY  1991  figures  to  include  institutional 
work  study  as  financial  aid,  as  it  was  in 
the  FY  1985  numbers. 

Table  2  (augmented)  shows  that  total 
expenditures  for  financial  aid  were  in- 
creased by  69.2  percent  (9.2  percent  aver- 
age annual  compounded)  in  constant 
dollars  between  FY  1985  and  FY  1991.  This 
is  significantly  more  than  other  expendi- 
ture increases  during  that  period.  More- 


Table  2  (Augmented)     SOME  REPRESENTATIVE  CHANGES 

IN  ASSETS,  REVENUE  AND  EXPENDITURES  AT  WPI 

FY  1985* 
(in  millions 
of  dollars) 

FY1991* 
(in  millions 
of  dollars) 

Change 
In  percent) 

Compound 
Avg.  Ann. 
Change  (%) 

Endowment 

Tuition/Fees  Revenue 

38.2 

51.3  

....34.3 

5.0 
6.7 
3.0 
4.1 
9.2 

22.7 

12.4 

18.3 

....47.6 

Total  Revenues 

.27.3  

32.7 

....19.7 

Instruction  &  Library 7.8 

Financial  Aid 3.9 

(including  institutional  work  study) 
Institutional  Financial  Aid 1.2  .... 

9.9 

....26.9 

6.6 

....69.2 

4.1  

..241.7 

Operations  and 

Plant  Maintenance 

2.2  .... 

2.2 

0.0 

0.0 

Student  Services 

1.02  .. 

1.29 

26.4 

4.0 

General  Administration 

and  Institutional 

1.32  .. 

1.53 

15.9 

2.5 

WPI  Tuition  and  Fees 

(in  thousands  of  1978  $s) 

4.8  .... 

6.6 

37.5 

5.5 

'Constant  Dollars,  Basis:  1978  (Source:  1990-91  WPI  Annual  Report) 

over,  the  average  annual  percent  changes 
in  expenditures  in  constant  dollars  for  the 
components  of  financial  aid  from  institu- 
tional, endowment  and  external  funds 
during  that  period  were  22.7,  3.1  and  -2.4, 
respectively. 

In  other  words,  during  that  six-year  pe- 
riod, when  we  increased  total  revenues  (in 


WPI  President  Jon  Strauss  talks  to  alumni  at  Reunion  in  a  renovated  Alden  Memorial. 


constant  dollars)  at  an  average  annual  rate 
of  3.0  percent,  tuition  and  fees  revenue  at 
an  average  annual  rate  of  6.7  percent,  and 
tuition  and  fees  themselves  at  an  average 
annual  rate  of  5.5  percent,  we  increased 
financial  aid  expenditures  from  institu- 
tional funds  at  an  average  annual  rate  of 
22.7  percent— nearly  3.5  times  faster  than 
tuition  and  fees  revenue.  During  this  pe- 
riod, undergraduate  institutional  financial 
aid  grew  from  10  percent  to  23.5  percent 
of  undergraduate  tuition  revenue.  That 
sounds  like  a  priority  to  me! 

Also,  as  that  period  ended,  we  elected 
not  to  increase  tuition  rates  for  1991-92 
and  have  increased  rates  for  1992-93  by 
only  3  percent — essentially  zero  growth  in 
constant  dollars  and  about  half  the  in- 
creases implemented  by  most  of  our  peer 
institutions.  That,  too,  sounds  like  a  prior- 
ity! Moreover,  with  our  need-blind  admis- 
sions policy,  we  work  quite  hard  to  make 
it  possible,  financially,  for  any  qualified 
applicant  to  attend  WPI. 

Our  priority  on  faculty  compensation 
is  more  difficult  to  demonstrate  from 
these  data.  Table  2  (augmented)  shows 
that  average  annual  expenditure  increases 
(in  constant  dollars)  were  greater  for  in- 


WPI  Journal 


struction  and  library  (4.1  percent)  than 
for  student  services  (4.0  percent),  gen- 
eral administrative  and  institutional 
(2.5  percent),  or  operations  and  plant 
maintenance  (0  percent).  Much  of  the 
real  increase  in  instructional  expenses 
was  directed  to  a  10  percent  increase  in 
tenure-track  positions  over  the  period, 
undertaken  both  to  accommodate  a  7 
percent  increase  in  enrollment  and  to 
provide  faculty  more  time  for  scholarly 
activities. 

In  recent  years,  we  have  kept  our 
average  salaries  for  assistant  profes- 
sors at  the  top  of  our  comparison 
group  in  the  Association  of  Indepen- 
dent Technological  Universities  in  or- 
der to  be  able  to  attract  and  retain  the 
very  best  young  faculty.  Unfortunately, 
the  pressures  of  financial  aid  and  our 
efforts  to  moderate  our  tuition  in- 
creases have  caused  the  average  sala- 
ries of  associate  and  full  professors  to 
slip  to  about  the  median  of  this  com- 
parison group.  Providing  competitive 
compensation  to  our  productive  fac- 
ulty and  staff  is  one  of  our  highest 
priorities  for  the  future. 

The  priorities  expressed  in  our  capital 
improvements  in  recent  years  (Founders 
Hall,  Fuller  Laboratories,  Institute  Hall,  the 
new  Biosensor,  Bioprocessing  and  Ceram- 
ics laboratories,  the  communications  net- 
work, and  classroom,  laboratory  and 
residence  hall  improvements  throughout 
the  campus)  conform  well  to  Peter's 
stated  priorities:  "direct-impact  facilities 
such  as  classrooms,  laboratories  and  stu- 
dent housing."  And,  while  Peter  refers  to 
the  renovation  of  Alden  Memorial  (funded 
totally  from  external  sources)  as  "a  fringe 
benefit,"  the  hundreds  of  students  involved 
in  our  various  performing  arts  programs 
and  the  many  students,  alumni  and  friends 
who  benefit  from  the  new  meeting  facilities 
in  Alden  would  disagree  vehemently. 

Our  latest  physical  improvement 
project,  the  new  Fitness  Center  in  Alumni 
Gymnasium  (funded  by  gifts  from  the  anni- 
versary classes  of  1952, 1953,  1967  and 
1968)  might  also  be  questioned  for  how 
"it  contributes  to  engineering  and  science 
education."  But  the  more  than  1,500  stu- 
dents and  faculty  who  signed  up  to  use  it 
in  its  first  week  of  operation  would  prob- 
ably argue  that  this  facility  will  help  pro- 
duce more  of  the  "satisfied  alumni"  to 
which  Peter  alludes. 

Moreover,  this  past  year  our  students 
(customers,  in  our  new  jargon  borrowed 


Fuller  Laboratories  is  an  example  of  a  recent 
capital  improvement  that  has  had  a  direct 
impact  on  educational  excellence. 

from  industry)  and  faculty  have  recom- 
mended very  strongly  that  a  new  campus 
center  be  given  the  highest  priority  in  our 
capital  project  planning. 

Peter  faults  our  $450,000  landscaping 
budget  without  noting  that  it  includes  all 
costs  for  maintaining  more  than  60  acres 
of  campus — including  personnel,  equip- 
ment, materials,  snow  removal,  athletic 
field  maintenance  and,  yes,  even  new  flow- 
ers. That  aside,  it  should  also  be  noted 
that  the  total  real  expenditures  for  main- 
taining the  physical  plant  did  not  grow 
during  this  six-year  period,  while  new  and 
renovated  facilities  added  significantly  to 
the  underlying  costs.  Despite  Peter's  sug- 
gestion to  the  contrary,  we  find  that  our 
alumni,  faculty,  staff  and  students — and 
particularly  prospective  students  and 
their  parents — place  a  great  deal  of  em- 
phasis on  the  quality  and  attractiveness  of 
our  campus,  both  buildings  and  grounds. 

Peter  makes  a  clarion  call  for  greater 
efficiency  and  more  tough-mindedness  on 
the  part  of  WPI  administrators  and  sug- 
gests, "WPI  is  not  being  managed  responsi- 
bly." Without  meaning  to  sound  defensive, 
1  suggest  that  WPI  has  been  mindful  of  the 
changes  in  the  society  around  it  and  quick 
to  adopt  those  industrial  practices  that 
will  improve  its  effectiveness  as  well  as 
its  efficiency. 


While  serving  as  an  aide  to  former 
Education  Secretary  William  J. 
Bennett,  Chester  E.  Finn  Jr.,  a  profes- 
sor at  Vanderbilt  University,  received 
a  lot  of  press  attention  for  advocating 
the  "no-frills  university."  We  at  WPI 
are  quite  mindful  of  the  best  implica- 
tions of  this  concept,  as  evidenced  by 
our  success  at  continuing  to  improve 
quality  while  restraining  prices. 

We  are  not,  however,  about  to 
sacrifice  the  very  things  that  make 
WPI  so  special  to  us  all  in  a  mindless 
race  to  a  generic  engineering  school 
model.  And,  our  alumni,  our  students 
and  our  prospective  students  have 
made  it  clear  that  many  things 
Chester  Finn  and  Peter  Schoonmaker 
would  consider  "frills"  are  important 
to  their  decisions  to  matriculate  at — 
and  their  continuing  enthusiasm 
for— WPI. 

This  past  year  has  seen  any  num- 
ber of  significant  accomplishments  at 
WPI  that  have  been  chronicled  in  the 
pages  of  the  Journal  and  the  WPI  Wire, 
including  the  retention  of  our  No.  1 
ranking  among  comprehensive  univer- 
sities in  the  North  by  U.S.  News  and  World 
Report,  the  reaffirmation  of  our  institu- 
tional accreditation  by  the  New  England 
Association  of  Schools  and  Colleges,  the 
continued  enhancement  of  our  Global 
Perspectives  Program,  the  establishment 
of  the  Center  for  High-Performance 
Computing,  and  the  initiation  of  the 
Massachusetts  Academy  of  Mathematics 
and  Science  at  Worcester. 

These  notable  accomplishments,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  extraordinary  quality 
of  the  education  we  offer  our  students, 
the  scholarly  contributions  of  our  aca- 
demic programs,  and  the  many  services 
performed  in  support  of  our  society,  were 
made  possible,  in  large  measure,  by  the 
dedication  and  hard  work  of  almost  every 
member  of  the  WPI  family  and  by  the  fiscal 
responsibility  that  is  a  watchword  of  this 
distinctive  institution.  And,  most  of  these 
contributions  would  not  continue  without 
the  strong  advocacy  and  generous  finan- 
cial support  of  alumni  and  friends. 

Having  said  all  this,  I  certainly  do 
agree  with  Peter's  concluding  notion  that 
readers  of  the  Journal  should  make  them- 
selves heard.  If  one  measure  of  that  is 
more  giving  designated  for  financial  aid, 
there  could  not  be  a  better  outcome. 
Jon  C.  Strauss 
President  of  WPI 


Fall  1992 


Perspectives  on  Technology  and  Society 


To  the  Editor: 

I  was  particularly  interested  in  Diane 
Benison's  piece  on  Thomas  Shannon's 
work  and  thoughts  on  bioethics  ("First,  Do 
No  Harm,"  Summer  1992).  It  is  interesting 
that  a  research  group  such  as  the  Center 
for  Theology  and  Natural  Sciences  has 
been  founded  to  attempt  to  bridge  the  gap 
between  the  underlying  traditions  of  soci- 
ety and  their  perceived  conflicts  with  sci- 
ence. However,  it  is  somewhat  frightening 
that  many  researchers  (and  society  itself) 
seem  to  place  such  confidence  in  the  abil- 
ity of  technology  to  lead  us  into  the  future 
through  projects  like  the  Human  Genome 
Initiative.  It  reminds  me  of  the  old  story 
about  a  man  who  could  solve  almost  any- 
thing, if  he  could  only  figure  out  what  the 
problem  was. 

In  his  1985  book,  The  Closing  of  the 
American  Mind,  Allan  Bloom  asked  many 
penetrating  questions  about  the  historical 
position  of  the  natural  sciences  in  Western 
traditions.  He  urged  us  to  reexamine  why 
"natural"  science  has  become  so  estranged 
from  philosophy  and  the  humanities.  This 
question  is  worth  more  than  the  lip  ser- 
vice it  is  so  often  given,  and  I  believe  its 
examination  is  part  of  the  key  to  resolv- 
ing many  of  the  agonizing  issues  we  face, 
when,  as  Shannon  suggests,  "technology 
continues  to  outpace  ethics  and  the  law." 
One  need  only  attend  a  public  hearing  on 
health  risks  from  "hazardous"  waste,  and 
to  observe  the  predictably  emotional  re- 
sponse often  given  to  a  dry  presentation 
of  toxicological  data,  to  appreciate  the  in- 
herent cross-cultural  mismatch,  suspicion 
and  distrust  that  can  so  easily  occur. 


In  the  last  25  to  30  years  we  have  wit- 
nessed the  ostensible  decline  (for  better 
or  for  worse)  of  many  of  the  underpin- 
nings of  our  traditional  models  of  social 
guidance  (i.e.  religion  and  family).  What 
is  the  relationship  (if  any)  between  these 
events  and  our  increasing  distance,  as  a 
society,  from  the  complex  world  of  special- 
ized technology?  The  distrust  in  many 
traditional  forms,  including  technology — 
especially  by  the  young — and  the  simulta- 
neous emergence  of  a  myriad  of  "growth 
centers"  seeking  spiritual  or  psychological 
renewal  (and  not,  incidentally,  rejecting 
much  that  is  material  and  technical),  seem 
to  be  obvious  manifestations  of  a  society 
searching  for  a  more  balanced  approach 
to  living. 

At  the  same  time,  few  would  disagree 
that  the  awe-inspiring  discoveries  of  this 
period  have  evoked  an  almost  religious 
sense  that  science  is  "truth,"  on  the  one 
hand,  while  on  the  other  hand  eliciting  an 
intuitive  feeling  that  this  is  not  all  of  the 
truth — that  somehow  we  must  examine 
and  appreciate  things  in  a  more  humane 
context  if  true  understanding  and  the  best 
use  of  these  discoveries  is  to  be  achieved. 

In  a  second  glance  at  several  of  the  ar- 
ticles in  the  Summer  Journal,  I  was  struck 
by  the  use  of  spiritual  metaphor.  In  "The 
Soul  of  a  New  Center,"  the  Holy  Grail  is 
equated  to  new  supercomputing  systems; 
in  "Genetics  and  the  Great  Shrimp  Deficit," 
we  learn  we  can  now  engineer  domestic 
animals;  and  in  "A  Trillion  Here,  A  Trillion 
There,"  there  is  an  expressed  sense  of 
amazement  at  the  incomprehensible,  end- 


Big  Numbers  and  "Wet  Paint"  Signs 


To  the  Editor: 

Re:  "A  Trillion  Here,  A  Trillion  There" 
(Advance  Word,  Summer  1992).  I  agree, 
the  proliferation  of  large  number  usage 
by  scientists,  government  agencies  and 
politicians  has  numbed  the  mind  of  the 
general  public  to  their  real  significance 
and  meaning. 

The  largest  numbers  the  average  per- 
son will  encounter  in  day-to-day  activities 
relate  to  insurance,  mortgage  balance  and 
miles  shown  on  an  automobile  odometer. 
We  can  still  relate  to  some  degree  when 
we  hear  of  millions,  but  when  we  get  to 


billions,  trillions  and  light  years  our  under- 
standing goes  off-track. 

That  is  why  it  is  comforting  to  see  a 
"Wet  Paint"  sign.  Now,  here  is  something 
we  can  relate  to;  we  can  even  test  its  valid- 
ity with  a  single  finger.  Perhaps  what  the 
world  needs  are  more  "Wet  Paint"  signs  to 
reassure  us  that  there  is  still  something  in 
this  high-tech  world  we  can  take  comfort 
in  being  able  to  understand. 

Richard  C.  Olson  '50 
Shrewsbury,  Mass. 


ing  with  a  wonderful  quote  by  the  play- 
wright Eugene  Ionesco.  Perhaps  this  comes 
a  little  closer  to  the  practical  man's  ac- 
knowledgment that  there  is  an  increasingly 
important  necessity  to  question  the  rela- 
tionship between  relatively  abstract  tech- 
nological concepts  and  the  everyday  world 
in  which  we  live.  Perhaps  we  must  even  de- 
vote more  than  "three  percent  of  the  bud- 
get" to  those  profoundly  human  questions 
— including  those  that  arise  from  our  mysti- 
cal and  poetic  sides — that  are  essential  av- 
enues for  balancing  our  lives  and  culture. 

Albert  Einstein  was  able  to  see  far  be- 
yond his  own  arena,  as  in  these  remarks 
quoted  in  The  New  York  Times  in  1952:  "It 
is  not  enough  to  teach  a  man  a  speciality. 
Through  it  he  may  become  a  kind  of  useful 
machine,  but  not  a  harmoniously  devel- 
oped personality.  It  is  essential  that  the 
student  acquire  an  understanding  of  and  a 
lively  feeling  for  values.  He  must  acquire  a 
vivid  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  of  the  mor- 
ally good.  Otherwise  he — with  his  special- 
ized knowledge — more  closely  resembles  a 
trained  dog  than  a  harmoniously  developed 
person.  He  must  learn  to  understand  the 
motives  of  human  beings,  their  illusions, 
and  their  sufferings  in  order  to  acquire  a 
proper  relationship  to  the  individual  man 
and  to  the  community." 

In  the  end,  the  quality  of  the  work  of  our 
era  is  likely  to  be  judged  in  relation  to  the 
service  rendered  to  society  by  craftsmen 
from  all  trades  striving  toward  more  holis- 
tic goals.  Enlightened  self-interest  requires 
another  look  at  our  approach  to  the  ques- 
tion, "what  should  these  goals  be?" 

Peter  F.  Kuniholm  '61 
Pound  Ridge,  New  York 

P.S.  As  a  practicing  consulting  engineer 
who  shares  many  of  the  concerns  ex- 
pressed in  Peter  Schoonmaker's  letter 
(Letters,  Summer  1992),  I  nevertheless 
find  myself  hoping  that  WPI,  while  main- 
taining the  New  England  practicality  that 
so  many  of  us  have  benefited  from,  will  all 
the  same  resist  the  call  to  become  too  nar- 
rowly focused  on  financial  matters  for  their 
own  sake.  Surely  we  must  be  prudent,  but 
1  would  urge  emphasis  on  the  seemingly 
abstract  but  critically  important  human 
questions  of  the  sort  being  raised  by 
Shannon.  However,  as  with  the  concept 
of  total  quality  management,  the  commit- 
ment to  do  so  must  come  from  the  top  if 
it  is  to  be  effective. 


WPI  Journal 


COMMUNIQUE 


What  Does  Quality  Mean  at  WPI? 


It  was  a  beautiful  New  England  spring 
day.  Corporate  recruiters  were  on 
campus  and  the  seniors  were  anxious, 
as  their  futures  were  beginning  to  take 
shape.  Returning  to  Boynton  Hall  with  just 
a  few  minutes  to  pick  up  some  documents 
before  heading  out  to  yet  another  meeting, 
I  bounded  up  the  stairs  to  find  that  every 
available  space  in  the  second-floor  recep- 
tion area — from  the  chairs  in  the  confer- 
ence room  to  couches  in  the  sitting 
area — was  occupied  by  a  student  stooping 
over  some  papers. 

I  also  noticed  Joan  Szkutak  79  of 
Procter  &  Gamble  Co.,  whom  I  had  visited 
just  a  few  weeks  before  in  Cincinnati.  We 
greeted  each  other  and  I  asked  what  was 
going  on.  She  said  the  students  were  being 
tested — our  students,  who  were  being  re- 
cruited by  Procter  &  Gamble,  were  being 
evaluated  by  a  company  test! 

1  vividly  remember  that  experience, 
because  it  made  me  think  about  an  impor- 
tant question,  one  that  I  have  been  asking 
as  a  matter  of  course  since  then:  who  are 
WPl's  customers?  Certainly,  our  students 
are  our  primary  customers,  but  they  are 
by  no  means  our  only  customers.  As  my 
experience  that  spring  day  reminded  me, 
the  industries  that  hire  our  graduates  are 
also  our  customers.  The  parents  of  our 
students  are  customers,  as  are  their 
friends.  Our  customer  base  also  includes 
our  alumni,  our  neighbors,  the  companies 
and  agencies  that  support  research  at  WPI, 
and  the  people  who  read  about  that  re- 
search in  academic  journals.  In  a  sense, 
the  whole  of  society  is  a  customer  of  WPI. 

We  also  have  internal  customers. 
For  example,  faculty  members  who  teach 
upperclass  courses  are,  to  a  large  extent, 
the  customers  of  those  faculty  members 
who  teach  the  freshman  courses.  Assess- 
ing the  needs  of  all  of  our  customers — 
external  and  internal— and  ensuring 
that  those  needs  are  not  only  met,  but 
exceeded — that  is  what  quality  should 
mean  at  WPI. 


In  my  address  before  the  1990  Aca- 
demic Convocation,  I  noted  that  Xerox 
Corp.,  under  its  CEO,  Paul  Allaire  '60,  had 
recently  won  industry's  most  coveted 
prize:  the  Malcolm  Baldrige  National 
Quality  Award.  I  proposed  that  WPI 
strive  to  achieve  a  similar  level  of  excel- 
lence. But  the  question  left  unanswered 
was  how  does  one  implement  a  quality 
program — one  aimed  at  meeting  customer 
needs — within  higher  education?  One  can 
start  by  looking  at  the  criteria  for  the 
Baldrige  Award.  They  are: 
Leadership,  the  sustaining  of  a  clear  and 
visible  value  system  that  guides  the  activi- 
ties of  the  institution, 

Information  and  Analysis,  a  quality- 
related  database  supporting  a  system 
that  insists  upon  management  by  fact, 

Strategic  Quality  Planning,  the  integration 
of  quality  improvement  efforts  into  the 
overall  short-  and  long-term  planning 
processes, 

Human  Resource  Utilization,  the  provid- 
ing of  quality  education  and  training,  and 
the  tying  of  performance  measurements  to 
quality  objectives, 

Quality  Assurance  of  Services,  the  sys- 
tematic and  continuous  improvement  of 
critical  processes  within  the  organization, 

Quality  Results,  the  examination  of  quality 
indices  (internal  and  external  to  the  insti- 
tution) based  on  analyses  of  customer  re- 
quirements and  expectations,  and 

Customer  Satisfaction,  being  able  to  deter- 
mine customer  requirements  and  expecta- 
tions, measure  customer  satisfaction,  and 
improve  the  relationship/process  once 
problems  are  identified. 

These  are  laudable  and  appropriate 
criteria,  and  we  in  higher  education  need 
to  adapt  them  to  the  management  of  our 
institutions.  But  where  do  we  begin?  For 
the  members  of  WPI's  Blue  Ribbon  Task 
Force,  a  committee  of  faculty,  staff,  stu- 
dents and  trustees  that  has  been  charged 


by  the  trustees  and  WPI  President  Jon  C. 
Strauss  to  recommend  measures  to  bring 
about  financial  stability  at  the  Institute, 
based  on  a  new  vision  for  WPI  and  work- 
ing within  the  framework  of  its  strategic 
plan,  that  starting  point  was  a  training 
session  at  Xerox — at  the  invitation 
of  Paul  Allaire — on  the  principles  and 
tenets  of  quality  management. 

The  time  we  spent  at  Xerox  was 
meaningful.  But  as  we  left  corporate 
headquarters  that  day,  we  knew  the 
challenge  before  us  was  to  adapt  the 
principles  Xerox  has  used  so  successfully 
to  our  own  business — higher  education. 
As  we  thought  about  that  challenge,  a 
number  of  paradoxes  kept  creeping  up. 
For  example: 

Student  learning  is  difficult  to  measure. 

We  do  teaching  evaluations  in  which 
students  answer  such  questions  as  "Was 
the  teacher  well-prepared?"  and  "Does 
he  or  she  present  the  material  in  an  orga- 
nized and  clear  manner?"  But  teaching 
evaluations  are  not  exactly  learning 
evaluations. 

Student  grades  may  be  misleading 
indicators.  The  WPI  Competency  Exam 
seems  like  a  better  system  than  grades 
to  assess  learning.  This  terminal  degree 
requirement,  adopted  and  implemented 
by  the  WPI  faculty  as  part  of  the  WPI 
Plan,  but  later  phased  out  in  favor  of  dis- 
tribution requirements,  asked  students 
to  marshal  all  they  had  learned  at  the 
Institute  to  solve  a  real  problem. 

Academic  freedom  of  the  faculty  and 
student  satisfaction  cannot  and  should 
not  be  in  conflict.  The  faculty  and  the 
students  should  be  partners  in  the  learn- 
ing process,  each  striving  for  the  same 
goal:  a  challenging  experience  for  stu- 
dents that  stretches  them  intellectually 
and  creates  in  them  a  passion  for  learn- 
ing that  will  stay  with  them  for  life.  In 
that  endeavor,  the  faculty's  need  for 
freedom  and  the  students'  demand  for 


Fall  1992 


a  satisfying  educational  experience  should 
be  consonant. 

These  paradoxes  are  not  impediments; 
rather  they  point  out  that  we  need  a  new 
model  for  higher  education — a  new  para- 
digm based  on  quality  principles.  There 
are  compelling  reasons  to  consider  adopt- 
ing such  an  approach.  Here  are  four: 

•  A  significant  portion  of  what  many  of  us 
at  WPI  do  could  be  classified  as  rework. 
We  fix  problems  that  keep  repeating. 

•  Miscommunication  seems  to  abound 
among  the  members  of  our  community. 

•  Shared  governance  on  campus  seems  to 
mean  shared  authority  and  not  shared 
responsibility.  Authority  and  responsibil- 
ity ought  to  be  inseparable. 

•  There  is  a  great  deal  of  "talking  about 
each  other,"  rather  than  "talking  with 
each  other." 

WPI  is  a  special  place.  The  intellectual 
vibrancy  and  the  commitment  of  the  fac- 
ulty and  the  staff  to  the  Institute's  mission 
is  genuine.  Institutional  pride  is  abundant. 
Adopting  quality  principles  will  alleviate 
the  process  problems  we've  experienced 
and  take  us  to  a  higher  level  of  satisfaction 
about  all  we  do. 

So  far  I've  addressed  quality  principles 
in  a  general  way.  Quite  specific  to  our  cul- 


WPI,  like  all 
institutions  of 
higher  education, 
can  benefit  from 
the  quality  princi- 
ples being  adopted 
successfully  by 
major  corporations 
like  Xerox,  notes 
WPI's  provost, 
Diran  Apelian. 


ture  in  higher  educa- 
tion, I  am  proposing 
that  we  consider  the 
following  imperatives: 

1.   Synergisms  and 
consonance  of  goals 
are  required  at  all  lev- 
els— from  the  presi- 
dent, to  the  provost,  to 
the  department  heads, 
to  the  faculty,  and  to 
every  member  of  the 
staff.  Shared  gover- 
nance (shared  respon- 
sibility, not  just  shared 
authority)  between  the  faculty  and  the  ad- 
ministration needs  to  be  reinforced. 

2.  Decisions  must  be  based  on  facts.  This 
applies  to  policy  and  operational  decisions 
and  requires  that  every  one  of  us  be  knowl- 
edgeable in  assessing,  evaluating,  measur- 
ing and  distilling  the  facts  out  of  the  data. 

3.  We  must  concentrate  on  fixing  the 
process,  not  the  problem.  That  means 
getting  to  the  root  cause  of  problems  and 
fixing  the  underlying  processes  that  give 
rise  to  them. 

4.  We  need  to  benchmark  at  all  levels. 
We  must  measure  our  strengths,  our  vul- 
nerabilities and  our  opportunities  against 
those  of  our  competitors. 

5.  Training — at  all  levels — should  be  a 
high  priority.  In  general,  universities  do 
not  do  a  good  job  in  this  arena.  We  need 
to  infuse  much  of  our  energies  and  re- 
sources into  training  and  educating  our 
staff.  In  addition,  recognition,  reward  and 
performance  evaluation  should  be  aligned 
with  the  institution's  quality  objectives, 
which  in  turn  should  be  based  on  its  value 
system  and  its  vision. 

Benchmarking  is  an  interesting  case 
in  point.  It  is  crucial,  for  example,  that  the 
faculty  be  cognizant  of  the  needs  of  indus- 
try. They  should  know  what  the  industries 


that  hire  our  graduates  look  for.  They 
should  also  know  the  reasons  why  some 
industries  don't  hire  our  graduates. 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  benchmark;  we 
must  work  together  to  use  the  information 
we  gather.  It  is  important,  for  example,  that 
our  "production  team"  (the  faculty)  and 
our  "marketing  team"  (our  Career  Develop- 
ment Office)  work  together  to  meet  the 
needs  of  our  industrial  customers.  Perhaps 
5  percent  of  the  faculty  (on  a  rotational 
basis)  should  be  involved  with  the 
Institute's  placement  function. 

Similarly,  the  production  team  and 
the  "sales  team"  (the  Admissions  Office) 
should  be  better  aligned,  perhaps  by  hav- 
ing 5  percent  of  the  faculty  be  involved 
with  the  admissions  function  of  the  Insti- 
tute. The  way  we  run  our  "business"  will 
dramatically  change  if  we  develop  such 
cross-functional  relationships. 

The  five  imperatives  I  outlined  above 
call  for  change.  Such  change  will  bring 
about  total  empowerment,  a  united  com- 
munity and  an  environment  in  which 
every  person  in  the  organization  knows 
how  crucial  his  or  her  job  or  function  is 
to  the  institution's  well-being. 

It  will  bring  an  inner  satisfaction  to 
every  member  of  the  community  to  know 
that  his  or  her  contributions  make  a  sig- 
nificant difference.  But  change  is  not  easy; 
more  accurately,  it  is  very  difficult.  It  re- 
quires shedding  old  views  and  rethinking 
anew.  As  John  Kenneth  Galbraith  ob- 
served, "Faced  with  the  choice  between 
changing  one's  mind  and  proving  that 
there  is  no  need  to  do  so,  almost  every- 
body gets  busy  on  the  proof." 

At  WPI  we  have  committed  ourselves  to 
opening  minds.  We  have  worked  to  create 
an  environment  in  our  classrooms  and 
laboratories  that  encourages  students  to 
question,  to  analyze  and  to  synthesize. 
Now  it  is  time  for  us  to  consider  how  qual- 
ity initiatives  can  help  us  do  these  jobs 
even  better.  As  I  noted  in  my  1990  Convo- 
cation address,  "Let  us  be  recognized  for 
our  total  quality  program  in  everything 
we  do.  We  will  be  the  only  college  in  the 
nation  that  will  have  implemented  such 
a  philosophy.  Let  us  be  the  envy  of  our 
peers,  and  the  college  of  choice  for  all  po- 
tential students.  1  know  we  can  do  it;  there 
are  no  limits  to  what  we  can  do  together." 
— Diran  Apelian 

Apelian  is  WPI's  provost  and  vice  president 
for  academic  affairs. 


WPI  Journal 


Walking  the  Talk: 

Managements  New  Philosophy  of  Quality 


By  Diane  Benison 


Before  too  long,  there  may  be 
just  two  kinds  of  companies  in 
the  world:  those  that  follow 
the  philosophy  of  total  quality 
management  and  those  that 
go  out  of  business.  Here  is  the 
story  behind  this  powerful 
technique  and  a  look  at  how 
it's  turned  the  tide  for  several 
major  American  corporations. 


Editor's  Note:  It's  hard  to  pick  up 
a  professional  publication  in  any 
discipline  these  days  without 
reading  something  about  total 
quality  management  (TQM),  or 
continuous  improvement,  as  it  is 
also  called.  This  approach  to  man- 
aging organizations  first  took 
hold  in  industry  but  is  now  finding 
advocates  in  all  sorts  of  institu- 
tions  (see  Communique,  page  6, 
for  a  look  at  how  TQM  may  find  a 
home  at  WPI).  In  the  pages  that 
follow,  the  Journal  explains  how 
TQM  works,  how  it  can  help 
make  a  corporation  more  com- 
petitive, and  the  steps  an  organi- 
zation must  take—and  the 
commitment  it  must  make — to 
adopt  it.  Then,  starting  on  page  13, 
you'll  find  out  how  five  major 
American  corporations — and 
WPTs  own  Management  Depart- 
ment— are  putting  the  principles 
of  TQM  to  good  use. 


HP 

1     otal  quality  management  isn't  for 
I!     everyone.  Most  certainly,  it's  not 
1     for  the  faint  of  heart,  the  impatient, 
■     the  autocratic,  or  those  who  feel 
^L   they've  paid  their  dues  and  want  to 
maintain  the  status  quo  until  death  or  retire- 
ment, whichever  comes  first. 

But  establishing  a  corporate  culture 
based  on  a  philosophy  of  continuous  im- 
provement may  be  the  single  most  impor- 
tant step  a  company  can  take  to  gain  and 
maintain  an  edge  in  today's  highly  competi- 
tive marketplace.  Some  TQM  proponents 
will  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  companies  that 
don't  institutionalize  the  philosophy  of  con- 
tinuous improvement  will  simply  not  sur- 
vive as  global  competition  intensifies. 

Xerox  Corp.,  which  was  humbled  in  the 
1980s  as  customers  judged  its  products  and 
services  inadequate,  credits  its  turnaround 
to  a  decision  to  adopt  TQM  (see  page  13). 
Company  representatives  candidly  explain 
that  making  the  shift  took  more  time  and 
was  far  more  difficult  than  expected.  They 
also  say  the  process  of  change  was  filled 
with  setbacks. 

But  by  sticking  with  TQM  through  these 
ups  and  downs,  Xerox  engineered  a  highly 
celebrated  comeback.  Its  products  are  once 
again  held  in  high  esteem  in  the  market- 
place— something  clearly  reflected  in  its 
bottom  line.  And,  as  a  result  of  adopting 
quality  programs,  the  company  won  the 
Department  of  Commerce's  prestigious 
Malcolm  Baldrige  National  Quality  Award 
in  1989  (see  story,  page  11). 

Most  consumers  would  agree  that 
when  they  say  a  product  has  quality 
they  mean  it  works  well  and  doesn't  break 
right  away.  But  in  the  last  decade  the  word 
has  come  to  stand  for  much  more  than  that. 
As  defined  by  companies  that  espouse 


KEY  REQUIREMENTS  OF 
A  QUALITY  PLAN 


Understand  customers'  needs 


Evaluate  &  improve  processes 
to  meet  needs 


Develop  measurement  systems  to 
track  progress 


Educate,  reward,  communicate 


Set  reach-out  goals 


continuous  improvement,  quality  products 
and  services  are  those  that  satisfy  customer 
expectations  for  function,  performance  and 
price.  In  the  world  of  TQM,  they  note,  it  is 
the  customer  who  defines  quality,  not  the 
designer,  the  engineer,  the  assembler  or  the 
accounting  office. 

But  the  organizational  model  that  still 
prevails  in  much  of  the  U.S.  workplace  is  an 
autocratic,  hierarchical  one  where  workers 
are  told  what  to  do  by  the  layers  of  manage- 
ment above  them.  For  this  reason,  imple- 
menting continuous  improvement  takes 
top-to-bottom  change.  First  and  foremost, 
it  requires  workers  and  managers  to  change 
their  attitudes  about  each  other,  and  to 
examine  how  they  think  about  work. 

Implementing  a  TQM  program  also 
means  learning  to  use  complex  statistical 
and  analytical  tools.  It  means  abandoning 
turf  wars  and  politics-as-usual.  It  means 
replacing  serial,  segmented  product  devel- 


Fall  1992 


opment  and  design  with  the  principles 
of  concurrent  engineering.  And  it  means 
learning  to  work  cooperatively,  listening  to 
others,  and  empowering  subordinates  to  act 
in  the  best  interests  of  the  customer. 

Change  of  this  magnitude  is  difficult,  but 
the  rewards  are  great,  say  those  who've 
made  the  change,  for  a  philosophy  of  con- 
tinuous improvement  can  make  a  company 
more  effective,  efficient  and  profitable. 
Among  other  benefits  reported  by  TQM 
companies:  the  time  needed  to  move  from 
conception  to  market  with  a  new  product 
is  significantly  shortened;  scrap  is  reduced, 
saving  money  on  raw  materials  and  pollu- 
tion control;  fewer  errors  are  made,  saving 
employees  time  and  customers  aggravation; 
the  cost  of  manufacturing  is  lowered;  and 
customer  satisfaction  and  loyalty  are  in- 
creased. 

There  is  another  benefit,  one  not  often 
stated  explicitly.  While  innovation  can  give 
a  company  a  big  boost  in  market  share,  and 
even  create  new  markets  (Xerox's  914  plain- 
paper  copier  and  Polaroid's  first  instant 
camera  are  good  examples),  it  is  continuous 
improvement  over  time  that  truly  gives  a 
company  an  incremental  advantage  over 
its  competitors.  To  survive  and  prosper, 
companies  need  innovation  and  continuous 
improvement. 

Whether  it's  called  total  quality  man- 
agement or  continuous  improvement, 
the  goal  of  this  new  management  approach 
is  simple,  to  deliver  a  consistent  product  or 
service  that  does  exactly  what  the  customer 
wants.  But  how  does  a  company  go  about 
turning  that  austere  philosophy  into  a  con- 
crete approach  to  running  a  real  organization? 

What  follows  are  1 1  practical  rules  for 
doing  just  that.  They  are  based  on  ideas 
culled  from  interviews  with  alumni  at  five 
major  corporations  and  with  researchers 
in  WPI's  Management  Department. 

1.  Use  Fewer  Vendors  and  Make 
Them  Part  of  the  Quest  for  Quality 

Companies  that  adhere  to  the  principles 
of  continuous  improvement  treat  their  ven- 
dors as  partners.  They  tend  to  have  fewer 
suppliers  than  most  other  companies  and 
they  hold  them  to  the  same  standards  of 
quality  they  apply  to  their  own  products. 

They  also  bring  suppliers  into  the  design 
process  as  new  products  are  being  devel- 
oped. This  allows  suppliers  to  enhance  new 
products  with  their  own  technological  ex- 
pertise. Many  TQM  companies  also  have 
vendor  certification  programs  that  require 
suppliers  and  prospective  suppliers  to  dem- 
onstrate that  they  can  adhere  to  the  firm's 
quality  standards. 


IDI-.N  III  V  OUTPUT 


IDENTITY  CUSTOMER 


|  ■       M'l  Mil  >   -:ill-.r.  mi|.;i    n., „   |     ,         ] 

6     SELECT  MEASUREMENTS 


T 


mniKMiM-  i'kuri£sso\CAHii.riv 


MdMIOKIV. 


But  What  do  They  Actually  Do? 

The  Problem  Solving  Process  is  very 

flexible,  with  application  to  a  wide  variety  of 
District  concerns.  You  will  want  to  use  this 
process  when: 

•There  is  a  gap  between  what  is  happening 
and  what  you  want  to  happen 
•You  want  to  move  from  a  vague  dissatisfac- 
tion to  a  solvable,  clearly  defined  problem 
•You're  not  sure  how  to  approach  an  issue 
The  Problem-Solving  Process  (PSP)  has  six 
basic  steps.  Often  they  are  shown  in  the 
familiar  wheel: 


Like  most  companies  that  adopt  total  quality  programs,  Xerox  has  developed 
formal  quality  procedures  and  tools  for  its  employees.  Two  key  tools  em- 
ployed at  Xerox  are  a  nine-step  quality  improvement  process,  left,  and  a 
six-step  approach  to  solving  problems. 


As  it  moved  along  the  quality  path, 
Xerox  cut  the  number  of  vendors  from 
which  it  purchases  parts  from  more  than 
5,000  to  about  450.  At  the  same  time,  it  in- 
creased the  quality  of  the  material  and 
components  it  buys.  TQM  companies  often 
open  their  training  classes  to  their  vendors, 
teaching  them  right  along  with  their  own  em- 
ployees to  use  the  statistical  and  procedural 
tools  needed  to  identify  problems,  reduce 
variation  and  produce  consistent  quality. 

2.  Let  the  Voice  of  the  Customer 
Drive  the  Quality  Process 

Just  as  TQM  companies  must  treat  their 
vendors  differently,  they  also  change  the 
way  they  interact  with  their  customers. 
They  listen  to  customers  and  gather  data 
about  them  by  observation.  They  find  out 
how  well  their  products  are  meeting  the 
needs  of  their  customers,  and  how  those 
needs  may  change  in  the  future. 

When  customer  surveys  uncover  dis- 
satisfaction, TQM  companies  find  out  what 
went  wrong  and  work  to  fix  it  right  away. 
More  important,  they  delegate  to  the  lowest 
possible  level  of  the  corporation  the  author- 
ity to  make  those  fixes,  and  give  workers 
the  information  they  need  to  make  the  best 
possible  business  judgments. 

These  companies  make  sure  the  field 
reports  filed  by  sales  and  service  people 
about  their  products — and  the  problems 
customers  have  with  them — quickly  get  into 
the  hands  of  designers,  marketers  and  fac- 
tory technicians,  who  just  as  quickly  find 
solutions  to  those  problems.  This  feedback 


loop  assures  that  changes  appear  in  a 
matter  of  days,  instead  of  the  months  often 
required  under  the  old,  top-heavy  system. 

3.  Fix  the  Process,  Not  the  Problem 

One  of  the  underlying  principles  of  TQM 
is  that  to  create  defect-free  products  and 
services — known  as  zero  variation — you 
have  to  fix  the  process,  not  the  problem, 
whether  that  process  involves  manufactur- 
ing, service  or  administration.  Any  company 
can  fix  a  problem  that  crops  up  in  its  copier, 
computer,  avionics  component  or  contact 
lens,  but  by  finding  the  cause  of  the  problem 
and  fixing  it  at  its  source,  one  can  eliminate 
the  chance  that  similar  problems  will  arise 
in  the  future. 

While  the  idea  is  simplicity  itself,  imple- 
menting it  is  not.  Sometimes  the  problem  in 
a  process  involves  people,  sometimes  it 
stems  from  a  poor  work  flow,  sometimes  it's 
due  to  inadequate  measurement  or  statisti- 
cal process  control — sometimes  it's  every- 
thing. To  fix  a  process  one  must  use  solid 
data  and  careful  analysis.  The  bottom  line  in 
process  improvement  is  reducing  variation, 
which  helps  curtail  the  need  for  inspection 
— and  correcting  defects — at  the  end  of  the 
process. 

Richard  W.  Anderson,  a  general  manager 
at  Hewlett-Packard,  is  often  quoted  in  corpo- 
rate training  materials  because  he  expresses 
this  principle  so  succinctly.  "The  earlier  you 
detect  and  prevent  a  defect,"  Anderson 
says,  "the  more  you  can  save.  If  you  catch 
a  two-cent  resistor  before  you  use  it  and 
throw  it  away,  you  lose  two  cents.  If  you 


WPI  Journal 


PRODUCT  /  PROCESS  IMPROVEMENT 
FLOW  DIAGRAM 


6- 


7- 


PRIORITIZE  OPPORTUNITIES 
FOR  IMPROVEMENT 


SELECT  THE  APPROPRIATE 
TEAM 


DESCRIBE  THE  TOTAL 
PROCESS 


PERFORM  MEASUREMENT  SYSTEM 
ANALYSIS 


IDENTIFY  AND  DESCRIBE  THE  POTENTIAL  1 
CRITICAL  PROCESS /PRODUCT  1 


ISOLATE  AND  VERIFY  THE 
CRITICAL  PROCESSES 


PERFORM  PROCESS  AND  MEASUREMENT } 
SYSTEM  CAPABILITY  STUDIES  J 


CAPABLE 
PROCESS 


PROCESS 

NOT  CAPABLE 


ACTION  REQUIRED  ON  PROCESS 


EQUIPMENT  /PROCESS   REDESIGN 
PRODUCT  REDESIGN 
MANAGEMENT  ACTION 


IMPLEMENT  OPTIMUM  OPERATING 
CONDITIONS  AND  CONTROL  METHODOLOGY 


•  TARGET/TOLERANCES         •  PROCESS  CONTROLS 

■  PREVENTIVE  ACTION  PROCEDURES 

■  CORRECTIVE  ACTION  PROCEDURES 


MONITOR  PROCESSES  OVER 
TIME  /  CONTINUOUS  IMPROVEMENT 


10- 


REDUCE  COMMON  CAUSE  VARIATION 
TOWARDS  ACHIEVING  SIX  SIGMA 


IS  Cp  >  2.0 


AND 


Cpk>  1.5 


YES 

I 
CONTINUOUS  IMPROVEMENT 


® 


MOTOROLA  INC. 

Semiconductor  Products  Sector 


don't  find  it  until  it  has  been  soldered  into 
a  computer  component,  it  may  cost  $10  to 
repair  the  part.  If  you  don't  catch  the  com- 
ponent until  it  is  in  the  computer  user's 
hands,  the  repair  will  cost  hundreds  of 
dollars.  Indeed,  if  a  $5,000  computer  has 
to  be  repaired  in  the  field,  the  expense 
may  exceed  the  manufacturing  cost." 

4.  Design  Quality  Into  Products 

TQM  principles  hold  that  many  quality 
problems  are  the  product  of  faulty  design. 
Robust  design  is  one  way  to  overcome  the 
limitations  of  traditional  design  methods. 
A  robust  design  is  one  that  takes  into  ac- 
count the  inherent  limitations  of  a  particular 
manufacturing  process,  but  still  produces  a 
reliable  product  time  after  time. 

But  quality  designs  are  worthless  if  it 
takes  so  long  to  produce  them  that  the  com- 
petition gets  its  product  to  market  faster. 
Concurrent  engineering  is  a  way  of  stream- 
lining the  design  process  and  making  it  less 
wasteful  of  human  energy. 

Lew  Veraldi,  vice  president  of  Ford 


Motor  Co.,  who  led  the  team  that  brought 
the  Taurus  to  market,  defined  the  problems 
of  the  traditional,  serial  design  process: 
"What  someone  designs  and  styles  may  be 


Companies  like  Motorola 
have  developed  formalized 
procedures,  left,  for 
achieving  continuous 
improvement.  At  Motorola, 
the  ultimate  objective  is 
reducing  variation  in  its 
products  to  the  level  of  six 
sigma,  below,  or  3.4  defects 
per  million  opportunities. 


quite  another  matter  to  engineering.  And 
by  the  time  it  reaches  manufacturing,  there 
may  be  some  practical  problems  inherent  in 
the  design  that  make  manufacturing  a  night- 
mare. The  people  who  actually  build  the 
vehicle  haven't  been  consulted  at  all.  And, 
marketing  may  well  discover  two  or  three  rea- 
sons why  the  consumer  doesn't  like  the  prod- 
uct, and  it  is  too  late  to  make  any  changes." 

In  concurrent  engineering,  everyone  who 
will  make  decisions  about  a  new  product 
gets  involved  from  the  start.  Potential  prob- 
lems in  engineering,  manufacturing  and  mar- 
keting are  identified  at  the  beginning  of  the 
design  stage,  when  it  is  less  expensive — 
and  time  consuming — to  correct  them.  And, 
by  carrying  on  the  processes  of  design,  engi- 
neering, manufacturing  engineering  and 
marketing  simultaneously,  the  whole  thing 
goes  much  faster  and  products  get  into 
customers'  hands  in  a  fraction  of  the  time 
needed  under  the  old  model. 

5.  Use  the  Right  Statistical  Tools  to 
Reduce  Defects  and  Boost  Quality 

To  statisticians  and  industrial  engineers, 
sigma  (O),  the  18th  letter  of  the  Greek 
alphabet,  means  standard  deviation,  a 
measurement  of  the  range  of  variation  in 
an  object  or  process.  In  the  world  of  TQM, 
sigma — preceded  by  a  number — has  come 
to  connote  the  concept  of  quality. 


SIX  SIGMA 


Virtually 

ZERO  DEFECTS 

(3.4  ppm) 


^ 


Virtually 
ZERO  DEFECTS 
k      (3.4  ppm)     f 


1 — I — r*-^ — I \ 


V 


-6©~  -5<r  -4a  -3c  -2cr  -i<r 

(""    SIX  SIGMA  CAPABILfTY  LIMIT 


r*- 


\&   z<r    3<r    *<r    5a    6er 

>— — — H 


10 


Fall  1992 


The  higher  the  sigma  number,  the  fewer 
the  variations  from  specification  and,  there- 
fore, the  greater  the  quality.  As  William 
Wiggenhorn  explained  in  a  1990  article  in 
Harvard  Business  Review,  "In  plain  English, 
six  sigma  translates  into  3.4  defects  per  mil- 
lion opportunities,  or  production  that  is 
99.99966  percent  defect  free.  By  contrast... 
five  sigma  is  233  defects  per  million,  and  four 
sigma  is  6,210  per  million  opportunities." 

Eliminating  defects  calls  for  some  detec- 
tive work.  The  first  step  is  to  make  variation 
visible  by  gathering  and  analyzing  data  as- 
sociated with  the  process.  Then,  through 
experimentation  and  careful  tracking,  one 
must  find  out  what's  causing  the  manufac- 
turing process  to  produce  too  great  a  range 
of  variation.  Accomplishing  these  tasks 
requires  sophisticated  measurement  and 
statistical  tools  and  a  work  force  trained 
to  use  them. 

In  fact,  the  ability  to  understand  and  use 
the  tools  of  measurement  and  statistics  is 
fundamental  to  total  quality  management. 
There  are  hundreds  of  statistical  methods — 
commonly  lumped  together  under  the 
rubric  of  statistical  process  control  (SPC) — 
that  can  be  used  in  designing  and  optimiz- 
ing processes  and  products.  Millions  of 
words  have  been  written  about  these  tools. 
For  example,  Motorola  University,  an  educa- 
tional subsidiary  of  Motorola,  is  compiling 
what  will  ultimately  be  an  18-volume,  7,000- 
page  collection  of  statistical  tools,  case 
studies  and  literature  called  the  Six  Sigma 
Owner's  Manual. 

Once  a  company  has  realized  a  quality 
gain  through  the  use  of  SPC,  it  is  important 
that  that  accomplishment  be  codified  in  the 
form  of  a  new  standard,  and  that  the  road 
that  led  to  the  quality  boost  be  carefully 
documented.  If  similar  processes  are  used 
in  other  areas  of  the  company,  managers 
there  must  be  told  how  they  can  realize 
similar  gains  in  quality  by  conforming  to 
the  new  standard. 

6.  Don't  Limit  the  Pursuit  of  Quality 
to  the  Manufacturing  Floor 

The  concepts  that  make  it  possible  to 
better  control  the  manufacturing  process 
can  also  be  employed  to  improve  adminis- 
trative functions  like  accounting,  service, 
sales  and  shipping.  Just  as  with  manufactur- 
ing, one  must  collect  data  about  how  the 
process  works,  analyze  the  causes  of  the 
most  significant  problems  and  design  a  new 
system  that  offers  less  opportunity  for  error. 

Is  it  worth  it?  Imagine  an  accounting  of- 
fice that  typically  records  a  million  entries 
for  its  month-end  closing.  If  the  data  it  re- 
ceives is  95  percent  accurate,  that  means 
there  will  be  50,000  errors.  Correcting  those 
errors  will  cost  money  and  lower  morale. 


Competing  for  Quality's 
Biggest  Prize 

T 

I  he  Malcolm  Baldrige  National  Quality  Award 

I  was  established  by  Congress  in  1987  to  promote 

JL  quality  awareness  and  encourage  the  develop- 
ment of  successful  quality  strategies  by  recognizing 
the  achievements  of  U.S.  companies.  Named  for  the 
late  secretary  of  commerce,  the  award  is  adminis- 
tered by  the  Department  of  Commerce  and  the  Na- 
tional Institute  of  Standards  and  Technology,  with 
help  and  financial  support  from  the  private  sector. 

A  company  that  believes  itself  to  be  a  leader  in 
total  quality  management  may  apply  for  the  award  in 
one  of  three  categories:  manufacturing  companies  or 
subsidiaries,  service  companies  or  subsidiaries,  and 
small  businesses.  Up  to  two  awards  may  be  given 
each  year  in  each  category.  Award  winners  agree  to 
share  their  successful  quality  strategies  with  other 
U.S.  organizations. 

Applicants  are  judged  on  their  performance  in 
seven  categories  (see  Communique,  page  6),  each  of 
which  is  worth  a  specified  number  of  points.  A  perfect 
score  is  1,000.  Written  applications  are  evaluated  by  members  of  a  board  of  examiners,  and 
high-scoring  applicants  are  selected  for  site  visits.  Award  recipients  are  recommended  to  the 
secretary  of  commerce  by  a  panel  of  judges  from  among  the  applicants  who  receive  site 
visits.  All  applicants  receive  written  assessments  that  summarize  strengths  and  identify 
areas  that  can  be  improved.  The  American  Society  for  Quality  Control  helps  administer  the 
examination  process. 


Instead  of  waiting  to  catch  thousands  of 
errors  at  the  end  of  the  process,  a  company 
can  use  SPC  to  seek  out  and  eliminate  the 
root  cause  of  those  errors,  saving  time, 
money  and  materials — and  improving  em- 
ployee morale  and  customer  satisfaction. 

7.  Make  Sure  the  Commitment  to 
Quality  Starts  at  the  Top 

The  alumni  interviewed  for  this  article 
agree  that  the  person  at  the  top  must  lead 
the  TQM  movement  in  his  or  her  company; 
that  responsibility  cannot  be  delegated.  Part 
of  the  struggle  for  senior  management,  they 
say,  especially  in  the  early  stages  of  change, 
is  balancing  long-term  quality  goals  against 
the  short-term  need  for  financial  perfor- 
mance. If  the  company's  top  person  doesn't 
make  continuous  improvement  the  highest 
priority,  it  simply  won't  happen. 

Senior  management  must  also  make  sure 
quality  goals  are  linked  to  the  strategic  plan- 
ning process.  The  chief  executive  officer 
has  to  "walk  the  talk,"  as  they  say  in  TQM 


circles.  If  he  or  she  doesn't,  then  in  the 
words  of  one  quality  manager,  "don't  even 
bother;  find  another  job." 

8.  Clearly  Tie  Rewards  and 

Recognition  to  Meeting  Quality  Goals 

As  any  industrial  psychologist  will  ex- 
plain, people  do  what  gets  them  rewarded. 
Many  companies  have  found  themselves 
midstream  in  a  culture  change,  but  still  not 
making  the  progress  they  think  they  should. 
When  senior  management  digs  for  the 
source  of  the  problem,  it  often  discovers 
that  workers  are  still  being  rewarded  for 
things  that  have  little  to  do  with  quality.  For 
example,  in  many  companies  rewards  are 
tied  to  meeting  shipping  or  sales  quotas, 
even  if  that  means  sending  out  defective 
products  or  promising  delivery  dates  that 
can't  be  met. 

TQM  companies  often  link  rewards — es- 
pecially promotions — to  employees'  adop- 
tion and  use  of  quality  tools  and  processes. 
Xerox,  for  example,  has  gone  so  far  as  to  say 


WPI  Journal 


11 


PLANNING 
ANALYSIS 

INTEGRATION 

ACTION 
MATURITY 

cc 

)MPETITIVE  BENCHMARKI 
KEY  PROCESS  PHASES 

NG 

1.  IDENTIFY  BENCHMARK  OUTPUTS 

" 

2.  IDENTIFY  BEST  COMPETITOR 

" 

3.  DETERMINE  DATA  COLLECTION  METHOD 

J 

4.  DETERMINE  CURRENT  COMPETITIVE  "GAP" 

" 

5.  PROJECT  FUTURE  PERFORMANCE  LEVELS 

" 

6.  ESTABLISH  FUNCTIONAL  GOALS 

'    COMMUNICATION    ■         S       ACCEPTANCE       ' 
|                  OF                  |         |                 OF                 | 

a                DATA                -         a        "ANALYSIS"         _ 

7.  DEVELOP  FUNCTIONAL  ACTION  PLANS 



' 

' 

8.  IMPLEMENT  SPECIFIC  ACTIONS 

~T 

9.  MONITOR  RESULTS/REPORT  PROGRESS 

^r 

10.  RECALIBRATE  BENCHMARKS 



LE* 

PR( 

KDERSHIP  POSITION  OBTAINED 
3CESS  FULLY  INTEGRATED  IN  OUR  P 

RACT 

ICES 

that  managers  must  achieve  "role  mode!" 
ratings  in  the  implementation  of  its  "Leader- 
ship Through  Quality"  philosophy.  No  role 
model  rating,  no  promotion;  it's  that  clear. 

Another  way  to  reward  people  is  through 
recognition.  At  least  once  a  year,  most  TQM 
companies  have  programs  similar  to  a  trade 
show  that  bring  together  teams  that  have 
made  quality  improvements  to  demonstrate 
their  projects.  Some  companies,  like  Xerox 
and  Motorola,  invite  external  suppliers  and 
customers.  The  programs  give  public  recog- 
nition to  successful  quality  efforts  and 
stimulate  still  more. 

9.  Measure  Your  Performance 
Against  the  Best 

Benchmarking,  or  comparing  yourself  to 
the  competition,  has  been  around  in  various 
forms  for  a  long  time.  But  some  bench- 
marking efforts  are  better  than  others. 

Benchmarking  is  more  than  comparing 
head  counts  or  financial  ratios.  Any  product 


or  process  can  be  benchmarked.  The  goal 
should  be  to  benchmark  one's  procedures 
for  making  products  or  providing  services 
against  those  of  other  companies  that  have 
reputations  for  doing  an  excellent  job.  De- 
pending on  what's  being  benchmarked, 
the  companies  chosen  as  yardsticks  need 
not  be  industry  competitors.  Xerox,  for  ex- 
ample, benchmarked  itself  against  American 
Express  when  it  wanted  to  reduce  customer 
complaints  about  billing. 

It's  important  to  remember  that  bench- 
marks have  a  limited  shelf  life.  Markets  and 
customer  demands  are  constantly  evolving, 
and  a  company's  benchmarks  must  change 
with  them.  To  be  truly  useful,  benchmarks 
must  be  continuously  updated. 

10.  Remember  That  Quality  has  Costs, 
Though  Ignoring  Quality  is  Costlier 

There  are  two  ways  to  look  at  the  cost 
of  quality:  the  price  of  conformance  and  the 
price  of  nonconformance.  The  price  of  non- 


Xerox,  like  all  TQM 
companies,  benchmarks 
its  performance  in  a  wide 
variety  of  areas  against 
other  companies  known  to 
be  leaders  in  those  areas. 
As  step  1 0  in  this  Xerox 
procedure  indicates, 
benchmarks  must  be 
continuously  updated. 


conformance  is  the  money  a  company 
spends  doing  things  wrong.  It  includes  the 
cost  of  labor  and  material  to  correct  errors, 
rework  defective  products,  process  com- 
plaints and  make  repairs  under  warranty. 
It  also  includes  opportunities  lost  because 
the  marketplace  doesn't  trust  you  anymore. 

The  price  of  conformance  is  what  it 
takes  to  make  things  right  the  first  time. 
Experts  agree  that  conformance  is  signifi- 
cantly cheaper  than  nonconformance. 

11.  Allow  Enough  Time  for 
Quality  to  Take  Hold 

Some  companies  talk  about  the  move 
to  continuous  improvement  as  a  renewal; 
others  call  it  a  revolution.  But  they  all  cau- 
tion that  it  takes  time.  Those  who  venture 
on  this  path  have  to  be  prepared  for  set- 
backs and  failures.  Some  quality  gurus  say 
it  can  take  10  years  to  fully  implement  a 
TQM  process  in  a  large  organization. 

The  concept  of  continuous  improvement 
is  profoundly  conservative  at  the  same 
time  that  it  is  immensely  revolutionary.  Its 
conservativism  lies  in  its  goal  of  making  a 
company  as  competitive  as  possible  within 
its  marketplace,  thereby  increasing  profits. 
That  goal  is  as  old  as  business  itself. 

But  where  TQM  truly  breaks  new  ground 
is  in  its  rejection  of  the  hierarchical  corpo- 
rate model  so  pervasive  in  industrial  his- 
tory. It  replaces  this  entrenched  concept 
with  a  model  in  which  people  at  all  levels 
of  an  organization  have  the  power  to  make 
meaningful  decisions  about  how  best  to 
serve  the  customer.  For  customers,  the 
most  revolutionary  aspect  of  TQM  may 
be  the  fact  that  they  no  longer  need  to 
enter  the  marketplace  with  the  caution 
caveat  emptor—  buyer  beware — foremost 
on  their  minds. 


Diane  Benison  is  a  former  newspaper  editor 
who  now  works  as  a  free-lance  writer  and 
editor  and  teaches  journalism  in  Clark 
University's  College  of  Professional  and 
Continuing  Education.  She  wrote  about  the 
Center  for  High-Performance  Computing  and 
the  bioethics  research  of  Thomas  Shannon 
for  the  Summer  1992  WPI  Journal. 


12 


Fall  1992 


Like  the  Phoenix, 
Xerox  Rises  From  the  Ashes  of  Failure 

On  the  Wings  of  Quality  ^m 


By  Diane  Benison 


In  retrospect,  Xerox  Corp.'s  story  is 
simple.  It  had  a  technology  break- 
through (the  plain-paper  copier)  and 
cornered  the  copier  market.  It  made 
enormous  amounts  of  money  and 
quickly  grew  to  become  a  Fortune  500 
company.  Then,  because  of  a  constellation 
of  mistakes  and  miscues,  including  corpo- 
rate arrogance  and  denial  about  the  threat 
of  competition,  it  squandered  its  market 
dominance. 

In  Prophets  in  the  Dark,  the  book  he 
wrote  with  management  consultant  David 
A.  Nadler,  former  Xerox  chairman  David 
T.  Kearns  said  that  by  the  early  1980s  he 
believed  Xerox  faced  the  real  prospect  of 
being  a  failed  company  sometime  during  the 
1990s.  As  early  as  1980,  he  wrote,  "there  was 
beginning  to  be  a  sickening  self-doubt  within 
the  company  that  we  were  basically  living 
on  borrowed  time." 

Happily  for  Xerox  stockholders  and  its 
more  than  100,000  employees,  the  company 
used  that  time  wisely.  Today  Xerox  has 
regained  some  of  its  market  share  and  is 
a  respected  player,  not  only  in  its  original 
market,  but  in  the  emerging  "document" 
market.  So  strong  has  that  turnaround  been 
that  a  recent  story  in  The  New  York  Times 
described  Xerox's  Model  5100  copier  as  a 
"case  study  in  how  to  beat  the  Japanese." 

But  few  stories,  particularly  comeback 
stories,  are  simple  or  quick.  Comebacks, 
especially  on  the  scale  achieved  by  Xerox, 
usually  reflect  painful  introspection,  recog- 
nition of  a  need  to  change  and  summoning 
of  the  will  to  make  that  change  happen. 
Xerox  needed  to  overhaul  its  corporate  atti- 
tude and  behavior.  And,  as  Xerox  employees 
who  lived  through  that  cultural  change  will 
tell  anyone  who'll  listen,  it  required  persis- 
tence, determination,  patience,  discipline 


and  still  more  introspection.  It  is,  they  add, 
easier  to  say  those  things  than  to  do  them. 

The  doing,  and  the  resulting  cultural 
growth  and  maturation,  is  the  real  Xerox 
story.  Xerox,  which  today  calls  itself  "The 
Document  Company,"  is  now  known  for  its 
philosophy  of  "Leadership  Through  Qual- 
ity." Developing  and  defining  that  philoso- 
phy, instilling  it  in  its  employees,  and  training 
those  men  and  women  to  make  it  inform 
their  work  each  day,  is  what  enabled  Xerox 
to  engineer  its  own  turnaround.  As  Kearns 
proudly  points  out  in  his  book,  "Xerox  did  it 
without  government  subsidies,  protective 
tariffs,  or  voluntary  import  quotas." 

Paul  A.  Allaire  '60,  current  chairman  and 
CEO,  has  spent  more  than  26  years  at  Xerox 
and  was  part  of  the  senior  management 
team  responsible  for  salvaging  the  company. 
Today  Allaire,  a  WP1  trustee,  is  leading 
Xerox  through  the  next  phase  of  its  evolu- 
tion into  total  quality  management  (TQM) 
by  changing  the  "architecture"  of  the  com- 
pany. Having  successfully  spread  quality 
messages  and  practices  throughout  Xerox, 
he  is  guiding  the  corporation  through  a  new 
period  of  transition. 

In  terms  of  its  impact  on  society,  many 
observers  compare  the  invention  of  the 
plain-paper  copier  to  the  invention  of  move- 
able type.  Like  the  latter  invention,  the  tech- 
nology of  plain-paper  copying  helped 
democratize  the  flow  of  information.  That 
fact  probably  explains  why  the  demand  for 
copying  machines  was  so  great  and  grew  so 
rapidly — much  more  than  Xerox  itself  ever 
expected  when  its  Model  914,  the  world's 
first  plain-paper  copier,  was  announced  in 
1959.  Until  the  commercial  introduction  of 
the  914,  copiers  required  special  paper  much 


Now  chairman  and  CEO,  Paul  Allaire 
helped  engineer  Xerox's  turnaround. 


like  that  used  by  most  fax  machines  today. 

The  success  of  the  914  and  the  growth  it 
set  off  caused  some  of  Xerox's  problems.  By 
1972  the  company  controlled  60  percent  of 
the  overall  $1.7  billion  copier  market  and  95 
percent  of  the  plain-paper  copier  market.  In 
December  of  that  year  the  Federal  Trade 
Commission  filed  a  complaint  against  Xerox 
for  restraint  of  trade,  charging,  among  other 
things,  that  Xerox  illegally  monopolized  the 
market  for  copiers.  As  part  of  a  settlement 
reached  with  the  FTC  in  1975,  Xerox  agreed 
to  license  its  technology  for  plain-paper 
copying  to  other  companies — including 
Japanese  firms. 

Once  Xerox  was  forced  to  license  its 
technology,  competitors  began  to  nibble 
away  at  its  business,  starting  at  the  low 
end  of  the  market.  More  significantly,  after 
the  FTC  settlement,  Japanese  companies 
targeted  Xerox  and  the  copier  industry. 
Xerox,  by  then  a  Fortune  500  company,  was 


WPI  Journal 


13 


H; 


President  Bush  presents  the  Malcolm  Baldrige 
Award  to  former  Xerox  chairman  David  Kearns. 


earning  a  19  percent  return  on  assets,  but 
that  success  had  its  price.  The  company 
had  become  arrogant.  It  felt  unthreatened 
by  the  prospect  of  competition.  Fiefdoms 
had  grown  up  within  the  organization  and 
their  internal  politics  hindered  cooperation. 
More  serious,  Xerox,  in  Kearns  words,  was 
making  "inadequate  products." 

Between  1976,  when  the  FTC  settlement 
was  handed  down,  and  1982,  Xerox's  share 
of  U.S.  copier  installations  dropped  dramati- 
cally. As  market  share  fell,  so  did  profits. 
The  layoff  of  thousands  of  employees  as  a 
cost-cutting  measure  did  nothing  to  address 
the  deep-rooted  organizational  and  opera- 
tional problems  that  beset  the  company 
during  this  period. 

So  Kearns,  Allaire  and  the  rest  of  the 
senior  management  lead  a  year-long  revo- 
lution to  change  the  corporate  culture  at 
Xerox.  Their  goal  was  to  make  the  quality 
of  Xerox  products  so  good — and  so  respon- 
sive to  customer  needs — that  the  company 
would  regain  market  share,  profitability 
and  return  on  assets.  That  conviction  fueled 
the  company's  revival  and  helped  win  it  the 
coveted  Malcolm  Baldrige  National  Quality 
Award  in  1989. 


ow  did  Xerox  do  it? 
It  was,  in  the  end, 
the  result  of  a  number 
of  relatively  indepen- 
dent developments  that 
occurred  within  the 
same  period  of  time. 

One  of  the  first 
happened  not  at  Xerox 
headquarters  in  Stam- 
ford, Conn.,  but  in  the 
countryside  of  Maine. 
In  1979,  Robert  Camp, 
an  inventory  control 
analyst  at  Xerox,  de- 
cided to  undertake  a 
benchmarking  project, 
determined  to  find  a 
better  way  to  handle 
distribution.  He  made  a 
trip  to  L.L.  Bean  to  find 
out  how  the  company 
had  achieved  its  repu- 
tation for  excellence  in 
wholesale  distribution. 

Camp  discovered 
that  Bean  was  using  bar 
codes  to  label  every 
item  in  its  warehouse. 
In  addition,  its  computer 
ordering  program  was 
written  so  that  when  a 
customer's  order  was 
printed  and  handed  to  a 
warehouse  employee  to 
be  "picked,"  the  items  were  printed  in  the 
same  sequence  in  which  they  were  stored  in 
the  warehouse,  reducing  the  time  needed  to 
fill  orders.  The  visit 
sold  Camp  on  the 
value  of  benchmarking 
and  he  became  an  ad- 
vocate for  the  practice 
within  Xerox.  Bench- 
marking was  adopted 
companywide  in  1981. 
Kearns,  meanwhile, 
had  begun  making  trips 
to  Japan  to  visit  Fuji 
Xerox,  of  which  Xerox 
was  a  partial  owner.  In 
1980,  when  Fuji  Xerox 
won  the  Deming  Award, 
Japan's  national  quality 
prize,  Kearns  began 
to  analyze  the  differ- 
ences he  saw  between 
Xerox's  Japanese  and 
U.S.  operations. 

He  also  set  up  an 
internal  team  at  Xerox 
to  study  the  organiza-       The  success  Xerox 
tion  and  recommend         paper  copier,  the  91 


changes,  and  in  1982  he  hired  consultant 
David  Nadler.  The  following  February  he 
took  a  major  step:  he  organized  and  led  a 
three-day  meeting  of  25  senior  managers 
at  the  company's  Leesburg,  Va.,  training 
center.  It  was  that  group,  which  included 
Allaire,  that  developed  the  Leadership 
Through  Quality  process.  Kearns  had 
come  to  believe  that  the  company  would 
not  change  unless  that  change  was  driven 
from  the  top.  The  Leesburg  meeting  was 
his  starting  point.  The  rest  is  history. 

Some  of  the  things  that  helped  bring 
about  change  at  Xerox,  including  bench- 
marking and  statistical  process  control, 
were  not  new  when  Xerox  began  using 
them.  Xerox's  most  significant  achievement 
was  changing  the  way  people  worked  to- 
gether, the  way  they  communicated  with 
each  other  and  the  way  they  cooperated 
to  solve  problems. 

Organizations,  like  individuals,  have 
psychologies,  although  at  the  organizational 
level  they  are  usually  called  corporate  cul- 
tures. Until  a  corporate  culture  supports 
and  encourages  genuine  employee  involve- 
ment and  communication — up  and  down 
the  hierarchy  and  across  functional  areas — 
the  use  of  quality  tools  alone  will  not 
achieve  total  quality. 

Every  business  or  institution  that 
decides  to  move  to  a  TQM  process  must 
change  the  way  it  thinks  and  the  way  it  does 
business.  Xerox  made  quality  its  basic  busi- 
ness principle,  and  it  spread  that  principle 
and  a  clear  definition  of  what  it  meant 
throughout  the  company.  Its  mission 


realized  after  it  introduced  the  first  plain- 
4,  in  1959  bred  arrogance  and  complacency. 


14 


Fall  1992 


statement  makes  that  clear:  "Xerox  is  a  qual- 
ity company.  Quality  is  the  basic  business 
principle  for  Xerox.  Quality  means  providing 
our  external  and  internal  customers  with  in- 
novative products  and  services  that  fully 
satisfy  their  requirements.  Quality  improve- 
ment is  the  job  of  every  Xerox  employee." 
Xerox  tells  employees  that  its  definition 
of  quality  differs  from  the  "conventional 
view"  in  at  least  four  respects: 
"Whereas  the  conventional  definition 
of  quality  reminds  us  of  words  like 
'goodness'  and  'luxury'  Xerox  de- 
fines quality  as  conformance  to 
customer  requirements. 
"Whereas  the  conventional  perfor- 
mance standard  for  quality  is  some 
acceptable  level  of  defects  or  errors, 
the  quality  performance  standard  in 
Xerox  is  products  and  services  that 
fully  satisfy  the  requirements  of  our 
customers. 

"Whereas  the  conventional  system 
of  achieving  quality  is  to  detect  and 
correct  products  after  they  have 
been  completed,  Xerox  emphasizes 
the  prevention  of  errors. 
"Whereas  the  conventional  system 
for  measurement  of  quality  relies  on 
indices,  Xerox  measures  quality  by 
the  costs  we  incur  when  we  do  not 
satisfy  customer  requirements." 
Changing  the  attitudes  and  behaviors  of 
managers  and  workers,  as  well  as  the  way 
departments  interact,  is  fundamental  to 
TQM.  By  the  time  Kearns  and  his  senior 
managers  launched  Leadership  Through 
Quality,  Xerox  employees  had  become 


skeptics,  if  not  cynics,  as  one  senior  man- 
agement initiative  after  another  quickly 
failed.  Internally,  Xerox  employees  referred 
to  each  new  management  proposal  as  the 
"flavor  of  the  month."  For  a  long  time,  Lead- 
ership Through  Quality  was  seen  as  just 
another  flavor  that  would  soon  be  replaced 
by  something  else. 

That  attitude  slowly  changed  as  manag- 
ers began  to  "walk  the  talk."  It  started  with 
something  called  "cascade  training."  First, 
Kearns  was  trained  in  problem-solving  and 
quality-improvement  methods.  He  then  led 
the  training  for  the  managers  who  reported 
to  him— his  "family  group."  Each  member 
of  that  group,  in  turn,  was  responsible  for 
training  his  or  her  subordinates. 

Managers  were  assisted  by  professional 
trainers,  but  they  were  expected  to  do  the 
bulk  of  the  work  themselves.  The  idea  was 
to  avoid  the  pitfall  of  managers  sending 
their  subordinates  off  to  learn  how  to  inter- 
act in  new  ways,  only  to  have  them  return 
to  the  same  old  environment  and  the  same 
old  ways  of  doing  things.  In  time,  the  les- 
sons of  quality  cascaded  through  the  organi- 
zation and  the  rhetoric  began  to  be  backed 
by  new  behaviors. 

Today,  Xerox  uses  five  mechanisms  to 
assure  that  it  stays  on  the  path  of  continu- 
ous improvement.  They  are: 

Standards  and  measurements:  These 
include  statistical  tools,  a  six-step  problem- 
solving  process,  a  nine-step  quality-improve- 
ment process,  competitive  benchmarking, 
an  emphasis  on  error  prevention  and  doing 
things  right  the  first  time,  and  techniques 
for  determining  the  cost  of  quality. 


Called  a  "case  study  in  how  to  beat  the  Japanese,"  Xerox's  new  Model  5100  copier  is 
a  reflection  of  how  the  company  has  become  more  responsive  to  customer  needs. 


Recognition  and  reward:  Xerox  encourages 
and  motivates  its  employees  to  practice 
Leadership  Through  Quality  by  publicly 
recognizing  and  praising  quality  improve- 
ments. They  range  from  a  companywide 
quality  day,  where  teams  demonstrate  their 
projects  and  discuss  their  achievements,  to 
simple  thank-yous  and  cash  bonuses. 
Communications:  Xerox  uses  formal 
vehicles,  such  as  magazines  and  films,  and 
informal  means,  such  as  staff  meetings,  to 
talk  about  quality  and  meeting  customer 
requirements  and  expectations. 

Training:  Xerox  still  uses  the  family-group 
approach  to  teach  problem  solving  and 
quality  improvement.  That  approach  is 
designed  to  ensure  that  managers  get  in- 
volved in  training  their  subordinates.  Xerox 
calls  this  a  "learn,  use,  teach,  inspect"  ap- 
proach to  reinforcing  the  quality  improve- 
ment objectives  of  training. 

Management:  Xerox  believes  managers 
must  set  the  example  of  using  the  quality- 
improvement  process  and  problem-solving 
tools.  Promotion  at  Xerox  is  tied  to  a 
manager's  success  at  being  a  role  model 
in  the  use  of  continuous  improvement. 

Xerox,  like  most  other  companies  that 
have  adopted  the  continuous  improvement 
philosophy,  has  developed  its  own  language 
and  formal  procedures  around  the  process. 
The  six-step  problem-solving  process  and 
the  nine-step  quality-improvement  process 
(see  page  9)  are  examples. 

Xerox  expends  a  lot  of  effort  assessing 
how  well  it  is  meeting  customer  expec- 
tations and  determining  what  customer 
requirements  will  be  in  the  future.  It  sends 
out  more  than  40,000  surveys  a  month  to 
customers;  with  a  return  rate  of  35  percent, 
that's  a  lot  of  feedback.  The  results  of  each 
month's  survey  are  distributed  to  all  areas 
and  unfavorable  or  neutral  surveys  get 
follow-ups.  The  goal  is  to  use  the  surveys 
to  find  and  fix  systemic  problems. 

When  asked  how  it  is  possible  to  make 
a  company  as  large  as  Xerox  more  market- 
driven,  Allaire  cites  an  example  of  some- 
thing the  company  does  to  keep  employees 
focused  on  customers.  "We  start  each  of 
our  internal  meetings,  no  matter  who  we're 
with,  by  going  around  the  table  and  asking, 
'What  have  you  learned  from  a  customer 
since  our  last  meeting?'  Clearly,  that  sets 
an  example,  because  it  means  all  the  senior 
people  have  to  be  out  talking  to  customers," 
he  says. 

"It  is  somewhat  symbolic,  but  it  is  impor- 
tant," he  adds.  "We  have  as  much  customer 
contact  as  we  can  possibly  get.  I  visit  cus- 
tomers on  a  continuous  basis.  We  measure 


WPI  Journal 


15 


Xerox's 

International 

Center  for  Training 

and  Management 

Development  near 

Leesburg,  Va.,  is 

a  centerpiece  in 

the  company's 

efforts  to  train  its 

employees  in  TQM. 


customer  satisfaction  more  effectively,  and 
focus  more  on  the  metrics  of  market  share, 
than  we  ever  have  in  the  past.  We  spend  a 
lot  of  our  training  for  our  technical  commu- 
nity on  what  marketing  means — what  it 
means  to  be  market-driven." 

Xerox,  Allaire  says,  has  worked  hard 
to  change  the  company  from  a  product- 
oriented  focus  to  a  real  market-oriented 
focus.  It  has  also  worked  to  change  the  atti- 
tudes of  engineers,  who  in  the  past  have  felt 
successful  if  they  simply  met  the  specs  they 
got  from  the  product  planners.  Now  Xerox 
engineers  understand  that  success  is  de- 
fined in  terms  of  how  well  a  product  sells, 
how  profitable  it  is,  and  how  much  value  it 
creates  for  customers.  "We're  going  to  be 
a  market-driven  company,"  Allaire  says. 
"We  really  use  the  customer  to  integrate 
everything  we  do." 

With  the  recent  reorganization  of 
Xerox's  copier  and  printer  busi- 
nesses, Allaire,  who  was  named  president 
of  the  company  in  1986,  CEO  in  1990  and 
chairman  in  1991,  says  he  hopes  to  change 
the  basic  "architecture"  of  Xerox.  "We  have 


substantially  changed  the  way  we  are  orga- 
nized," he  says.  "We  have  changed  the 
company  from  a  functional,  vertical,  fairly 
monolithic  entity  to  one  that  is  organized 
by  divisions  and  teams  within  divisions. 
Now  we  have  nine  business  divisions;  within 
those  divisions  are  30-plus  business  teams, 
which  really  have  accountability  for  their 
part  of  the  business." 

With  the  change,  decision-making  au- 
thority and  responsibility  have  been  pushed 
down  to  the  nine  new  divisions.  In  addition, 
a  new  "corporate  office"  has  been  estab- 
lished, consisting  of  Allaire  and  five  senior 
executives. 

The  reorganization  should  enable  Xerox 
to  take  the  kind  of  work  that  has  been  done 
within  the  company  by  cross-functional 
problem-solving  and  quality-improvement 
teams — work  that  helped  Xerox  implement 
its  Leadership  Through  Quality  process — 
and  weave  it  into  the  fabric  of  daily  opera- 
tions and  decision  making  throughout  the 
corporation,  Allaire  says. 

The  way  Xerox  went  about  planning  this 
latest  change  is  indicative  of  how  communi- 
cations within  the  company  have  changed 
as  a  result  of  continuous  improvement.  The 


company  made  no  secret  of  its  plan  to  reor- 
ganize and  restructure  the  business.  The 
two  teams  that  labored  over  the  course  of 
15  months  to  develop  the  new  structure 
did  so  openly.  As  a  result,  Allaire  says,  by 
the  time  the  new  plan  was  put  in  place, 
"there  was  already  a  lot  of  buy-in." 

This  was  more  than  an  exercise  in  rear- 
ranging the  boxes  on  an  organizational 
chart,  Allaire  says.  It  was  an  effort  to  de- 
velop a  team  environment  where  business 
decisions  can  be  made  based  on  customer 
requirements.  He  stresses  that  the  new 
organization  is  not  designed  to  be  static. 
"We  designed  it  so  that  it  can  flex,  so  it  can 
change  as  the  market  changes,"  he  says. 

Allaire  says  he  is  optimistic  that  the 
company,  having  won  the  Baldrige  Award 
and  a  new  market  recognition  for  its  quality 
products,  will  not  become  complacent.  "We 
have  bright,  capable  people,"  he  says. 
"They're  well-motivated.  We  have  no  lack 
of  challenges,  so  we  have  no  need  to  be- 
come complacent.  There  are  also  enough 
of  us  around  who  know  how  large  a  price 
we  paid  for  our  complacency  in  the  1970s. 
Nobody  from  that  era  is  ever  going  to 
become  complacent  again." 


16 


Fall  1992 


Midwives  to  Change 

The  story  of  how  alumni  at  Motorola,  Bausch  &  Lomb, 

Hamilton  Standard  and  Polaroid 

Helped  Bring  TQM  to  Their  Companies 


By  Diane  Benison 


Just  as  every  couple  with  a  new  baby 
has  a  personal  story  to  tell  about  its 
arrival,  every  firm  that  aspires  to 
become  a  TQM  company  or  makes 
the  transition  has  its  own,  unique 
tale  about  the  birth  of  its  continuous 
improvement  program. 

Many  of  those  stories  have  already  been 
told  in  books,  business  school  case  studies 
and  articles  in  publications  like  the  Harvard 
Business  Review.  What  follows  are  brief 
glimpses  into  the  very  different  experi- 
ences of  four  major  corporations  that  have 
successfully  implemented  quality  pro- 
grams or  are  in  the  process  of  doing  so. 
These  stories  are  told  through  the  eyes  of 
WPI  alumni  who  have  been  at  the  center 
of  those  changes. 


Motorola  Finds  There  are 
Special  Challenges  to  Implementing 
TQM  in  an  Administrative  Area 


Motorola  started  its  journey  down 
the  quality  road  in  the  late  1970s 
when  Robert  Galvin,  then  CEO, 
launched  two  efforts  aimed  at  educating 
the  company  about  new  statistical  tools 
and  new  technology.  His  efforts,  however, 
did  not  produce  the  results  he  wanted.  The 
basic  problem,  as  many  companies  have 
learned,  is  that  new  tools  and  technology 
don't  automatically  engender  new  ways 
of  thinking  and  doing,  especially  if  they 
threaten  the  tribal  customs  that  are  inevi- 
tably part  of  every  organization's  culture. 

Out  of  Galvin's  frustrations  came  the 
Motorola  Executive  Institute,  a  one-time 
course  for  400  executives  "that  tried  to 
give  them  an  M.B.A.  in  four  weeks,"  William 
Wiggenhorn  wrote  in  a  1990  issue  of  Harvard 
Business  Review.  "The  participants  learned  a 
great  deal,  but  again,  the  ultimate  results 
were  disappointing." 

But  in  that  disappointment  were  the 
seeds  of  fundamental  cultural  change.  Gal- 
vin's next  move  was  to  set  up  the  Motorola 
Training  and  Education  Center  (MTEC).  It 
had  its  own  board  of  directors  that  included 
Galvin,  two  of  his  top  executives  and  senior 
managers  from  every  Motorola  operating 
unit.  The  center's  goals,  Wiggenhorn,  the 
center's  president,  wrote,  were  "to  expand 
the  participative  management  process  and 


to  help  improve  product  quality  tenfold  in 
five  years." 

While  MTEC,  or  Motorola  University,  as  it 
is  also  known,  would  emphasize  retraining 
workers  and  redefining  jobs,  its  main  goal 
was  to  change  attitudes  and  behaviors.  It 
did  this  with  a  five-part  curriculum  that  in- 
cluded courses  on  using  statistical  process 
control,  solving  problems,  presenting  con- 
ceptual material,  running  effective  meetings 
and  setting  goals. 

But  as  Motorola  learned  in  the  early 
1980s,  telling  employees  that  there  is  an- 
other, more  effective  way  to  work  is  not 
enough;  they  must  be  motivated  to  change. 
So  the  company  focused  its  attention  on 
finding  ways  to  create  that  motivation. 

"In  the  end,  we  had  to  let  people  know 
that  'poor  performance'  included  an  unwill- 
ingness to  change,  and  was  grounds  for  dis- 
missal," Wiggenhorn  wrote  in  that  Harvard 
Business  Review  article.  "We  had  to  abandon 
paternalism  for  shared  responsibility." 

As  that  message  began  to  filter  through 
the  organization,  Motorola  discovered  that 
workers  and  middle  managers  who  were 
trying  to  apply  the  lessons  they  learned  in 
training  programs  were  too  often  frustrated 
by  senior  managers  who  failed  to  reinforce 
that  training  with  a  genuine  new  emphasis 
on  quality. 


WPI  Journal 


17 


A  training  session  under  way  at  Motorola  University. 


MTEC  asked  two  universities  to  study  the 
problem  and  evaluate  the  company's  return 
on  the  money  it  was  investing  in  training. 
The  studies  found  that  in  those  plants  where 
the  work  force  absorbed  and  used  the  statis- 
tical tools  and  process  skills — and  were 
reinforced  by  senior  managers — Motorola 
realized  a  $33  return  for  every  dollar  spent. 
Plants  where  workers  used  either  the  statis- 
tical tools  or  the  process  skills — but  not 
both — and  were  reinforced  by  their  superi- 
ors, broke  even.  Plants  that  taught  all  or  part 
of  the  curriculum,  but  did  not  reinforce  it, 
had  a  negative  return  on  investment. 

Galvin  decided  the  best  way  to  get  the 
message  across  to  senior  management  was 


to  shift  the  emphasis 
to  quality  at  opera- 
tions review  meetings. 
Wiggenhorn  reports 
that  Galvin  "insisted 
that  quality  reports 
come  first,  not  last,  on 
the  agenda,  and  then 
he  left  before  the 
financial  results  were 
discussed." 

Garvin's  success 
in  changing  the  focus 
and  behavior  of  se- 
nior management 
was  the  catalyst  that 
pulled  everything 
together  at  Motorola. 
The  company's  suc- 
cess in  making  the 
change  was  confirmed  when  it  became  one 
of  the  first  winners  of  the  Malcolm  Baldrige 
National  Quality  Award  in  1988. 

One  of  the  lessons  Motorola  has  learned 
in  its  quest  for  quality  is  that  it  is  easier  to 
apply  the  tools  of  TQM  (the  company  calls 
it  Total  Customer  Satisfaction  or  TCS)  on 
the  factory  floor  than  in  an  administrative 
area,  according  to  Theodore  J.  Jaros  '54, 
vice  president  and  director  of  services  and 
planning,  world  marketing,  in  Motorola's 
Semiconductor  Products  Sector. 

"As  you  get  outside  of  the  factory,  one 
of  the  questions  you  face  is  how  to  measure 
quality,"  says  the  25-year  Motorola  veteran, 
who  supervises  a  1 75-person  work  force 


that  is  split  evenly  between  serving  internal 
and  external  customers.  "First,  you  have  to  de- 
fine the  best  metrics  that  will  contribute,  in  a 
meaningful  way,  to  continuous  improvement." 

Asked  how  progress  is  measured  in  his 
area,  Jaros  quips,  "I  wish  I  had  the  final  an- 
swer to  that.  We're  still  in  the  process  of  evolv- 
ing." But  he  says  he  does  have  some  progress 
to  report.  One  of  the  groups  that  reports  to 
Jaros  is  responsible  for  distributing  literature 
about  Motorola  products  and  parts  via  an 
electronic  network.  To  measure  the  sigma 
level  of  its  performance  (see  page  10),  the 
group  established  goals  for  the  time  it  should 
take  to  respond  to  requests  for  information. 

Another  group  works  with  customers  to 
design  application-specific  integrated  cir- 
cuits. After  it  has  completed  a  project,  the 
group  asks  the  customers  to  evaluate  various 
aspects  of  its  performance,  including  their 
satisfaction  with  the  technical  aspects  of  the 
work  and  with  the  group's  response  time. 
The  answers  are  then  translated  into  num- 
bers that  can  be  analyzed  and  used  to  evalu- 
ate the  group's  response  to  customer  needs. 

For  those  who  work  in  administrative 
areas,  Jaros  says  one  of  the  most  useful 
applications  of  continuous  improvement  is 
called  process  mapping.  In  this  technique, 
employees  are  trained  to  use  quality  tools 
to  map  a  work  process,  figuring  out  each 
step  needed  to  complete  a  task.  They  then 
determine  which  of  those  steps  add  no 
value  to  their  work  and  eliminate  them,  re- 
ducing opportunities  for  error  and  shorten- 
ing the  time  needed  to  complete  projects. 


How  Bausch  &  Lomb's  International 
Division  Meets  the  Demands  of 
Customers  in  More  Than  100  Countries 


Bausch  &  Lomb's  International  Division 
has  5,000  employees  who  speak  more 
than  15  languages  and  work  in  30 
countries.  They  man  15  manufacturing 
plants  around  the  world,  making  products 
that  are  sold  to  some  200,000  customers  in 
more  than  100  nations.  Trying  to  make  qual- 
ity part  of  the  corporate  culture  in  an  orga- 
nization with  that  structural  breadth  and 
complexity  presents  significant  challenges, 
according  to  division  president  Ronald  L. 
Zarrella  71,  a  WPI  trustee. 

Zarrella,  who  holds  the  additional  title  of 
executive  vice  president  of  Bausch  &  Lomb, 


says  the  concept  of  TQM,  or  Total 
Customer  Responsiveness  (TCR), 
as  it's  known  within  the  corpora- 
tion, is  not  well-developed  in  many 
of  the  countries  where  his  division 
does  business.  In  particular,  he 
says  he  and  his  senior  managers 
must  do  basic  "missionary  work" 
to  explain  TCR  to  customers  and 
employees  in  some  of  the  lesser- 
developed  countries  where 
Bausch  &  Lomb  operates.  "To 
make  this  successful  you  have  to 
(Continued  on  Page  20) 


TQM  has  helped  Bausch  &  Lomb  be  more 
responsive  to  customer  needs  worldwide, 
says  Ronald  Zarrella. 


18 


Fall  1992 


How  WPFs  Management  Department 
Practices  What  It  Teaches 


There's  an  old  saying  that  those  who 
can't  do,  teach.  The  men  and  women 
who  constitute  WPI's  Management 
Department  are  working  hard  these  days 
to  show  that  when  it  comes  to  total  quality 
management,  they  can  teach  and  do.  Hav- 
ing already  developed  courses  that  intro- 
duce students  to  the  latest  approaches  to 
organizational  management,  the  depart- 
ment is  now  putting  those  techniques  to 
work  to  better  manage  its  own  efforts. 

Assistant  Professor  Enio  E.  Velazco  is 
one  faculty  member  who  has  managed  to 
not  only  teach  the  tools  of  TQM,  but  to  use 
those  tools  to  become  a  better  teacher.  In 
particular,  Velazco,  who  has  been  teaching 
TQM  for  five  years,  says  he  applies  the 
principles  of  continuous  improvement  and 
focusing  on  customer  needs  to  his  work  in 
the  classroom. 

For  example,  after  teaching  a  course  on 
quality  planning  and  control  for  the  first 
time,  he  changed  the  emphasis  and  im- 
posed stricter  math  prerequisites  based 
on  feedback  from  his  on-campus  custom- 
ers (students)  and  off-campus  customers 
(prospective  employers  of  WPI  graduates). 
Since  then  he  has  expanded  his  continuous 
improvement  efforts  by  talking  to  recent 
graduates  about  how  well  the  course  pre- 
pared them  for  the  world  of  industry. 

Velazco  says  the  department  is  also  try- 
ing to  benefit  from  the  concept  of  cross- 
functional  management,  an  element  of 
TQM  that  emphasizes  cooperation  among 
departments  within  a  company  to  the  ben- 
efit of  the  entire  organization.  As  an  ex- 
ample, he  cites  a  recent  $10,000  grant  from 
General  Electric  Co.'s  Continuous  Improve- 
ment Education  Fund,  which  will  support 
the  development  of  a  new  graduate  course 
in  total  quality  management. 

The  researchers  on  the  project  repre- 
sent two  academic  departments.  Along 
with  Velazco,  who  is  the  principal  investi- 
gator, they  include  Assistant  Professor 
Michael  B.  Elmes  from  management,  and 
Professor  and  Associate  Department  Head 
Richard  D.  Sisson  and  Assistant  Professor 
David  C.  Zenger  from  mechanical  engineer- 
ing. Velazco  has  also  formed  an  informal 
advisory  board  of  22  quality  professionals 


from  business  and 
industry.  Their  role,  he 
says,  is  to  provide  "peer 
review"  of  the  syllabus. 

Because  of  its  mis- 
sion of  teaching  the 
latest  techniques  in 
organizational  manage- 
ment, the  Management 
Department  often  finds 
itself  at  the  center  of 
campus  discussions 
about  TQM,  notes  Helen 
G.  Vassallo,  professor 
and  department  head. 
She  says  those  discus- 
sions have  "been  a 
bridge  for  us  to  colla- 
borate on  research  and 
teaching  efforts  across 
departmental  lines." 

One  development 
that  helped  make  that 
bridge  stronger,  Velazco  adds,  was  the 
creation  within  the  Management  Depart- 
ment of  the  Center  for  Productivity  and 
Quality  Improvement.  Launched  in  March 
1991,  the  center  is  part  of  the  department's 
pilot  program  for  implementing  TQM  in  an 
academic  environment.  The  center's  mis- 
sion, he  says,  is  "to  provide  a  focus  for 
faculty  activities  in  management  involving 
teaching  innovation,  scholarship  and  spon- 
sored research." 

One  of  the  most  basic  questions 
Vassallo  and  her  colleagues  have  had  to 
grapple  with  is  just  what  quality  means 
in  an  academic  setting.  The  management 
faculty  have  tackled  that  question,  as  well 
as  how  to  apply  the  principles  of  TQM 
within  the  department,  at  annual  retreats. 

"At  the  1990  retreat,"  Vassallo  says,  "we 
decided  to  focus  on  the  issues  of  innova- 
tion, entrepreneurship,  productivity  and 
quality  improvement.  Afterward,  people 
began  to  have  brown  bag  lunches  to  talk 
about  how  to  deal  with  these  issues."  One 
of  the  results  was  an  increased  emphasis 
on  interdepartmental  teaching  and  re- 
search. Velazco's  General  Electric  grant  is 
one  outgrowth  of  that  emphasis. 

After  a  retreat  in  1991,  the  department 


Helen  Vassallo  and  Enio  Velazco  are  helping  the 
Management  Department  adopt  a  total  quality  program. 


began  to  consider  its  own  goals  in  the 
context  of  the  six  goals  of  the  Institute's 
strategic  plan.  The  product  of  those  dis- 
cussions is  a  "road  map,"  still  under  devel- 
opment, that  will  guide  the  department  in 
its  quality  efforts.  The  map  begins  with  the 
department's  mission  statement,  from 
which  stem  several  specific  goals.  Strate- 
gies are  being  developed  for  achieving 
each  goal.  From  these  will  arise  lists  of 
concrete  actions  that  must  be  taken  to 
implement  the  strategies.  The  final  step 
will  be  assigning  those  actions  to  indi- 
vidual faculty  members  and  determining 
how  many  new  resources,  if  any,  will  be 
needed  to  carry  them  out. 

Vassallo  says  she  knows  the  road  map 
is  only  a  start.  Like  many  of  the  companies 
that  have  implemented  TQM  programs, 
the  department  will  likely  revise  this  plan 
many  times  as  it  is  put  into  action.  But 
Vassallo  says  she  hopes  that  the  ideas  in 
the  map  will  become  a  model  for  a  true 
culture  change  at  WPI.  In  fact,  the  depart- 
ment has  developed  a  similar  road  map 
concept  for  the  entire  college  that  will 
help  guide  the  efforts  of  the  new  Blue 
Ribbon  Task  Force  as  it  plots  out  new 
directions  and  goals  for  the  Institute. 


WPI  Journal 


19 


Employees  share  successful  ideas 
at  a  Bausch  &  Lomb  quality  day. 


(Continued  from  Page  18) 

keep  a  high  level  of  corporate  involvement 

— that's  me,"  he  says. 

One  of  the  competitive  advantages  TCR 
has  given  Bausch  &  Lomb  is  a  reputation  for 
paying  attention  to  customer  needs.  "We 
were  always  known  for  high-quality  prod- 
ucts and  technological  leadership,"  Zarrella 
says,  "but  we  weren't  so  good  at  listening 
to  customers." 

Listening  to  customers  is  especially  im- 
portant for  Bausch  &  Lomb,  as  its  product 
line  includes  sunglasses  and  contact  lenses. 
Since  ideas  of  beauty  and  fashion  vary  from 
country  to  country,  products  designed  and 
made  for  customers  in  the  U.S.  won't  neces- 
sarily meet  the  cosmetic  or  functional  needs 
of  consumers  in  other  countries.  TCR  helped 
Bausch  &  Lomb  begin  to  recognize  the  im- 
portance of  those  differences,  Zarrella  says. 

The  International  Division  has  done  con- 
siderable training  on  the  principles  of  un- 
derstanding and  responding  to  customer 
needs.  As  a  result,  the  division,  which  won 
the  Bausch  &  Lomb  President's  Quality 
Award  in  1990,  has  been  able  to  document 
significant  increases  in  customer  satisfac- 
tion with  its  products  and  services.  But 
Zarrella  says  he  thinks  his  division  will  get 
its  best  leads  on  how  to  respond  to  custom- 
ers by  asking  noncustomers  why  they  don't 
buy  Bausch  &  Lomb  products,  something  it 
started  to  do  this  year. 

"The  underlying  premise  of  TCR  is  that 
only  the  customer  can  provide  the  direction 
for  enduring  success,"  he  adds.  And  for 
Bausch  &  Lomb,  which  posted  revenues 
in  1991  of  more  than  $1.5  billion — of  which 
more  than  45  percent  came  from  regions 
outside  the  United  States — keeping  its 
worldwide  customers  satisfied  adds  up 
to  a  significant  competitive  advantage. 


Hamilton  Standard  Embraces  Quality  to 
Bolster  its  Competitive  Stance  in  a  Changini 


Like  many  other  companies,  Hamilton 
Standard,  a  division  of  United  Tech- 
nologies Corp.,  turned  to  TQM  after  a 
painful  experience.  By  late  1986  it  had  lost 
more  than  $100  million  and  was  the  focus  of 
a  comprehensive  government  audit  that 
identified  many  quality-  and  system-related 
problems  at  the  maker  of  aerospace  sys- 
tems, components  and  services.  The  audit 
would  eventually  show  that  problems  in  the 
areas  of  product  quality,  cost  control,  timely 
deliveries  and  customer  satisfaction  needed 
immediate  attention. 

In  early  1988  the  company's  senior  man- 
agers, sobered  by  the  red  ink  and  the  fed- 
eral audit,  decided  to  act.  They  began  by 
looking  at  companies  like  Xerox,  Motorola 
and  IBM  that  had  successfully  adopted  the 
total  quality  philosophy.  They  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Hamilton  Standard  needed 
a  major  culture  change;  by  September  1988 
they  had  hired  a  consulting  firm  to  help 
them  achieve  it. 

Early  in  the  process,  these  15  executives 
went  through  eight  days  of  training  to  learn 
about  continuous  improvement  and  how 


Hamilton  Standard's  Gordon  Sigman  Jr. 


Hamilton  Standard  might  implement  it. 
During  that  1988  training  session  the 
company's  first  vision  statement  was  de- 
veloped and  the  firm  committed  itself  to 
emphasizing  teamwork,  consensus  build- 


For  Polaroid  Corp.,  Implementing  a  Continuoi 
Has  Meant  Top-to-Bottom  Change 


In  some  ways  it's  not  surprising  that 
Joseph  J.  Kasabula  '68  is  in  his  present 
position.  He  says  he  first  began  to  think 
about  the  nature  of  quality  when  he  was 
a  student  at  WP1.  Those  thoughts  were 
aroused  one  day  in  chemistry  class  when 
the  professor  read  a  quote  by  noted  19th 
century  English  art  critic  John  Ruskin. 
"Quality  is  never  an  accident,"  Ruskin  said. 
"It  is  always  the  result  of  intelligent  effort. 
There  must  be  the  will  to  produce  a  supe- 
rior thing." 

Kasabula  says  those  words  have  stuck 
with  him.  Today  he  puts  that  philosophy  to 
work  as  quality  strategy  manager  for  prod- 
uct development  and  worldwide  manufac- 
turing at  Polaroid  Corp.  in  Cambridge,  Mass. 
He  is  one  of  several  quality  ownership  ex- 
ecutives working  to  bring  Polaroid's  man- 
agement process,  which  combines  total 
quality  concepts  and  tools  with  its  own 


employee  ownership  concept  (Polaroid  is 
20  percent  owned  by  its  employees),  to  the 
company  that  is  most  famous  for  its  inven- 
tion of  instant  photography. 

As  far  back  as  1982,  Polaroid  had  begun 
to  gain  experience  with  statistical  engineer- 
ing and  process-control  tools.  By  1990,  when 
the  company  was  aligned  around  four  busi- 
ness units  (Family  Imaging,  Business  Imag- 
ing, Technical  and  Industrial  Imaging,  and 
Electronic  Imaging),  it  was  also  beginning 
to  develop  a  companywide  process  called 
Total  Quality  Ownership  or  TQO. 

The  original  TQO  design  team  was 
formed  in  September  1989;  Kasabula  joined 
it  three  months  later.  The  team  began  by 
looking  at  1 1  large  companies  that  had  al- 
ready started  continuous  improvement  pro- 
grams. In  September  1990  training  in  what 
Polaroid  has  called  Quality  Strategy  started 
at  the  top  when  Polaroid  CEO  I.  MacAllister 


20 


Fall  1992 


erospace  Industry 


ing,  process  improvement,  employee  own- 
ership, employee  development  and  cus- 
tomer focus. 

Like  other  companies,  Hamilton  Stan- 
dard has  found  that  it  takes  considerable 
time  just  to  complete  the  initial  training  of 
its  employees.  By  mid-1992,  though,  more 
than  half  of  its  9,500-member  work  force 
had  been  taught  to  put  the  tools  of  con- 
tinuous improvement  to  work  in  their  jobs. 
All  manufacturing  and  factory  employees 
are  also  being  trained  to  achieve  a  basic 
competency  in  statistics  and  manufactur- 
ing process  analysis. 

One  of  the  major  goals  of  the  culture 
change  set  in  motion  by  Hamilton  Standard 
is  to  develop  a  more  proactive  way  of  oper- 
ating. "We  value  solving  problems;  what  we 
need  to  value  more  is  solving  problems 
before  they  occur,"  the  company  tells  em- 
ployees in  an  internal  publication.  "Con- 
tinuous improvement  requires  a  culture 
change  away  from  autocratic  to  participa- 
tory management.  If  we  really  desire  to 
value  people,  then  we  must  practice  par- 
ticipatory management.  People  closest  to 


the  work  must  have  the  authority  to  make 
decisions  based  on  a  shared  understanding 
of  the  company  vision." 

According  to  Gordon  H.  Sigman  Jr.  '59, 
vice  president  and  general  manager  at 
Hamilton  Standard  and  a  WP1  trustee,  U.S. 
companies  still  dominate  the  world's  aero- 
space business.  "But  you  can  see  the  Euro- 
peans and  the  Japanese  are  working  hard 
and  these  guys  are  going  to  be  capable  com- 
petitors. If  you  go  back  to  the  early  1980s, 
you  had  a  technology  discriminator,  but 
things  have  a  way  of  equalizing."  Sigman 
says  the  competitive  battlegrounds  of  the 
future  will  be  quality,  reliability,  price  and 
the  ability  of  companies  to  support  their 
products. 

Hamilton  Standard,  Sigman  says,  is  now 
committed  to  a  "total  understanding  of  cus- 
tomer needs."  The  company,  which  hopes 
to  be  a  serious  contender  for  the  Malcolm 
Baldrige  Award  in  1994,  has  conducted 
Baldrige-like  assessments  of  its  progress  to 
date.  The  results  of  those  assessments — the 
good  and  the  bad — are  shared  with  employ- 
ees through  regular  newsletters. 


While  there  are  still  pockets  of  autocratic 
management  within  Hamilton  Standard, 
more  than  three  years  of  effort  has  paid  off, 
Sigman  says.  Despite  the  fact  that  the  com- 
pany is  still  training  its  work  force,  it  has 
realized  documentable  improvements  in 
customer  service.  These  include  greatly 
reduced  turnaround  times  for  repairs  and 
service  (from  an  average  of  1 1 7  days  to 
eight)  and  equally  dramatic  reductions  in 
products  returned  due  to  defects. 

Hamilton  Standard's  road  to  total  quality 
has  been  especially  challenging,  given  the 
fact  that  its  efforts  have  coincided  with  a 
downturn  in  the  U.S.  and  world  economies. 
Tough  economic  conditions  and  related  job 
instability  can  be  serious  obstacles  to  con- 
tinuous improvement. 

To  compensate  for  these  added  chal- 
lenges, Sigman  says  the  company  is  working 
harder  to  make  sure  recognition  for  quality 
is  consistent  and  public.  Sometime  next 
year  that  effort  will  get  a  boost  when  the 
performance  and  merit  review  systems  are 
changed  to  reward  managers  and  employ- 
ees who  focus  on  continuous  improvement. 


lprovement  Program 


Booth  and  several  senior  managers 
attended  a  four-day  seminar  developed  and 
arranged  by  Kasabula.  The  three-ring  binder 
that  held  the  reading  materials  for  that 
seminar  weighed  more  than  seven  pounds. 

Led  by  a  team  of  quality  strategy  ex- 
perts that  included  Bradley  T  Gale  '64, 
managing  director  of  the  Strategic  Planning 
Institute  at  MIT  and  a  member  of  the  board 
of  overseers  for  the  Malcolm  Baldrige 
Award,  David  A.  Garvin  of  the  Harvard 
Business  School  and  Don  0.  Clausing  of  MIT, 
that  group  of  senior  executives  covered  a 
lot  of  ground.  They  started  with  the  basics 
— the  philosophies  and  approaches  of 
three  of  America's  original  quality  experts, 
W.  Edwards  Deming,  Joseph  M.  Juran  and 
Philip  B.  Crosby — and  moved  on  to  the 
elements  of  Quality  Strategy. 

Polaroid's  TQO  program  was  formally 
launched  in  the  winter  of  1991  when  Booth 


Joseph  Kasabula  of  Polaroid  Corp. 


held  a  series  of  1 1  meetings  with  the 
company's  top  200  executives.  By  the  end 
of  1991  nearly  all  8,000  U.S.  employees  had 
participated  in  initial  training  in  the  con- 
cepts of  TQO.  This  year  the  initial  training 
was  adapted  and  given  to  employees  of 


international  subsidiaries,  as  well. 

Also  this  year,  Polaroid  began  pilot 
programs  for  an  effort  called  TQO  Action, 
which  is  aimed  at  helping  business  improve- 
ment teams  select,  analyze  and  solve  prob- 
lems in  their  work  areas.  Having  studied 
how  other  companies  have  implemented 
total  quality  and  ownership  programs, 
Polaroid  is  using  a  pilot  approach — blending 
work  and  learning  processes,  testing  them 
on  small  groups,  revising  them  based  on 
feedback,  and  then  using  them  on  a 
companywide  basis. 

One  of  the  characteristics  of  a  company 
beginning  to  make  the  change  to  a  total 
quality  environment  is  that  information 
about  what's  happening  around  the  organi- 
zation begins  to  flow  in  ways  it  never  has 
before.  For  some  managers  that  can  be 
unsettling.  As  Kasabula  observes,  "As  Total 
Quality  Ownership  moves  into  the  organiza- 
tion, you  have  to  relax.  Things  seem  to  get 
worse,  but  really  what's  happening  is  you're 
getting  far  more  information  than  you  ever 
have  before.  I  think  this  has  been  the  learn- 
ing experience  of  1992  for  us." 


WPI  Journal 


21 


Fall  Madness 

Each  spring  after  classes  have  ended  and  Commencement  is  a  pleasant  memory,  the  WPI  campus 
settles  into  a  quiet  but  purposeful  calm,  not  unlike  the  tranquility  parents  experience  after  sending 

their  young  children  off  to  school  for  the  day. 


With  the  pace  of  day-to-day  life  slowed,  there 
is  time  to  make  repairs,  update  records,  paint 
walls,  mow  lawns,  attend  conferences,  and 
spend  more  time  in  the  lab  doing  research. 

But  then,  one  day  in  late  August,  the  sum- 
mer calm  is  shattered  in  a  flurry  of  vans, 
trucks  and  U-Hauls  bringing  a  new  crop  of 
freshmen  and  their  parents  to  town  for  the 
start  of  another  school  year.  It's  the  begin- 
ning of  Fall  Arrival,  a  weeklong  marathon  in 
which  hundreds  of  undergraduates  move  into 
the  residence  halls,  more  than  600  freshmen 
get  a  thorough  orientation  to  the  campus  and 
to  the  challenges  and  rewards  of  college  life, 


I 


WPI  Journal  23 


anxious  students  flock  to  Harrington  Auditorium  to 
sign  up  for  courses  or  make  course  revisions,  smiling 
faces  appear  before  cameras  to  be  recorded  on  ID 
cards,  and  young  men  and  women — course  schedules 
in  hand— scout  the  bookstore  for  the  latest  tomes  on 
electrodynamics,  fluid  mechanics,  calculus  and  the 
modern  American  novel. 

It  is  a  time  that  reminds  every  member  of  the  WPI 
community— should  they  have  forgotten— just  why  it 
is  they  come  to  work  each  day.  For  it  is  the  students 
and  their  hunger  for  a  superior  education  that  form 
the  motive  force  that  drives  the  Institute's  well-oiled 
machinery.  So  integral  are  these  young  men  and 
women  to  the  life  and  cadence  of  the  college  that, 
once  the  annual  fall  madness  is  over  and  the  class- 
rooms hum  once  more  with  the  electricity  of  learning, 
and  the  dining  halls  ring  with  the  clatter  of  plates  and 
the  chatter  of  young  voices,  and  the  athletic  fields 
come  alive  again  with  the  raw  energy  of  competition, 
it  is  hard  to  believe  they  were  ever  really  gone. 


24  Fall  1992 


WPI  Journal  25 


4 


The  mission  was  simple: 
grow  large  crystals  in  space. 
But  achieving  that  goal  would 
require  two  years  of  hard  work  by  a 
dedicated  team  of  WPI  researchers 
who  beat  the  odds  and  the  clock  to  build 
an  experiment  for  a  NASA  space  laboratory.  For 
one  of  those  researchers,  the  Zeolite  Crystal 
Growth  Experiment  would  nearly  prove  the 
answer  to  a  childhood  dream— to  fly  in  space. 


A  Stellar 


By  Michael  Dorsey 


Achievement 


hey're  barely  one-hundredth  of  a  millimeter  on  a  side, 
these  perfect  little  cubes;  to  get  a  good  look  at  one  you 
need  an  electron  microscope.  They're  made  from  a 
simple  combination  of  three  of  the  most  common 
elements  on  Earth.  Yet  to  a  team  of  researchers  in 
WPI's  Chemical  Engineering  Department,  these  tiny 
objects  are  more  precious  than  gold. 

This  rare  booty  is  a  collection  of  zeolite  crystals  manu- 
factured in  space,  where  the  absence  of  gravity  enabled 
them  to  grow  much  larger  and  more  perfect  than  zeolites 
typically  grown  on  Earth.  They  are  the  product  of  an 
experiment  conceived  and  designed  by  WPI  researchers 
and  built  by  engineers  and  technicians  from  two  major 
American  engineering  firms. 

The  experiment  was  part  of  one  of  the  most  extensive 
and  successful  science  missions  ever  flown  aboard  an 
American  spacecraft,  the  first  United  States  Microgravity 
Laboratory  (USML-1),  which  was  carried  into  orbit  by  the 
space  shuttle  Columbia  this  past  June.  For  the  WPI  team, 
the  flight  culminated  two  years  of  hard  work  that  would 
ultimately  bring  national  recognition  to  the  Institute.  They 
were  years  that  would  also  lead  one  of  those  researchers 
to  the  brink  of  space  itself. 


For  WPI,  the  road  to  USML-1  began  one  evening  in  1983  in  a 
small  restaurant  near  the  WPI  campus.  Over  pizza 
and  beer,  Albert  Sacco  Jr.  and  the  late  Leonard  B.  Sand, 
colleagues  from  the  Chemical  Engineering  Department, 
chatted  in  the  easygoing  manner  of  co-workers  who  have 
also  become  good  friends. 

At  61,  Sand  was  one  of  the  world's  most  respected 
researchers  in  the  field  of  zeolites.  Educated  as  a  geologist 
and  mineralogist,  he  had  worked  for  Standard  Oil  and 
taught  at  the  University  of  Utah  before  taking  a  position  at 
Norton  Co.  as  chief  of  a  research  and  development  unit 
creating  synthetic  zeolites.  Made  of  alumina  and  silica, 


zeolites  have  a  highly  uniform  network  of  microscopic 
pores  that  make  them  useful  as  molecular  sieves  and  cata- 
lysts in  a  variety  of  chemical  industries — especially  petro- 
leum refining.  About  40  varieties  of  zeolites  occur  naturally; 
most  now  used  in  industry  are  synthetic  varieties. 

In  1967  Sand  left  Norton  to  join  WPI,  where  his  enthusi- 
asm for  the  seemingly  mundane  zeolites  convinced  other 
faculty  members  to  join  him  in  learning  more  about  how 
they  work  and  how  to  make  them  better.  In  time  the 
Institute  developed  the  largest  zeolite  research  program  of 
any  U.S.  university. 

On  that  evening  in  1983,  Sand  hoped  to  get  Sacco 
excited  about  zeolites.  Then  as  now,  Sacco's  research 
focused  on  catalysis  and  solid-gas  reactions.  But  growing 
up  in  the  1960s,  he  had  also  developed  a  keen  interest  in 
space  (see  Advance  Word,  page  2).  Sacco  made  a  deal  with 
Sand:  if  they  could  find  a  way  to  combine  Sand's  research 
with  Sacco's  fascination  with  space,  he'd  join  the  team. 

That  intersection  would  be  a  student  project  to  design 
and  build  a  zeolite  crystal  growth  experiment  that  flew 
on  a  space  shuttle  in  June  1991  as  part  of  a  package  of 
student-built  hardware  sponsored  by  MITRE  Corp.  The 
experiment  was  designed  to  test  the  hypothesis  that,  free 
from  the  pull  of  gravity,  zeolite  crystals  will  grow  to  un- 
precedented sizes. 

Checking  the  literature,  Sand  and  Sacco  had  learned 
that  the  largest  natural  zeolites  are  found  in  ancient  lake 
beds.  These  irregular,  impure  crystals  grew  gradually  over 
the  course  of  centuries  while  chemical  nutrients  slowly 
diffused  around  them.  In  the  laboratory,  zeolites  grow  in 
thick,  milky  "gels"  formed  by  mixing  alumina  and  silica 
solutions.  Heated  in  metal  autoclaves,  the  crystals  grow 
rapidly,  reaching  their  maximum  size  in  a  matter  of  days. 

"On  Earth,  the  zeolites  settle  out  of  solution  and  you 
get  a  cake  of  crystals  at  the  bottom  and  an  essentially 
clear  liquid  at  the  top,"  says  Robert  W  Thompson,  pro- 
fessor of  chemical  engineering.  As  the  crystals  settle,  he 

WPI  Journal 


27 


WPI's  first  venture  into  growing 
zeolites  in  space  was  this  student- 
designed  experiment,  which  flew  on 
a  space  shuttle  in  1991.  But  the 
experiment  sat  on  the  ground  too 
long,  yielding  poor  results. 

notes,  growth  subsides  and  then  stops.  By 
using  techniques  that  control  nucleation 
(the  process  by  which  crystal  growth  begins), 
Sacco  and  other  WPl  researchers  have  pro- 
duced crystals  substantially  larger  than  those 
typically  used  in  industry.  But  no  matter  how 
careful,  every  zeolite  grower  eventually  runs 
up  against  the  effects  of  gravity. 

"Len  and  I  knew  that  if  you  could  sus- 
pend a  crystal  indefinitely  and  bring  a  nutri- 
ent stream  past  it,  it  would  continue  to 
grow,"  Sacco  says.  What  better  way  to  do 
that,  they  reasoned,  than  by  moving  the 
whole  process  into  space. 

Len  Sand  died  in  1985,  just  two  years  af- 
ter that  conversation  over  pizza  and  beer. 
When  Sacco  looks  back  over  what's  tran- 
spired in  the  intervening  years,  he  is  quick 
to  credit  Sand  with  many  of  the  insights  that 
made  those  achievements  possible.  As  a  re- 
minder of  those  contributions  and  of  the 
friendship  they  shared,  Sacco,  who  became 
head  of  the  Chemical  Engineering  Depart- 
ment in  1989,  keeps  Sand's  photograph  in  a 
prominent  spot  on  his  office  wall. 


While  advising  the  students  developing  the 
space-based  crystal-growth  experiment, 
Sacco  began  giving  talks  at  professional 
meetings  on  growing  zeolites  in  space.  One 
such  talk,  before  a  conference  of  the  Society 
for  the  Advancement  of  Material  and  Pro- 
cess Engineering,  brought  him  to  Seattle  in 
1985.  In  the  audience  that  day  was  William 
Jameson,  an  engineer  from  Grumman  Corp. 
who  had  been  hired  by  NASA  to  evaluate 
potential  research  focuses  for  the  agency's 
efforts  to  exploit  the  commercial  potential 
of  space. 

"He  thought  zeolites  had  a  lot  of  promise 
and  believed  NASA  should  push  ahead  with 
that  area,"  Sacco  says.  "As  a  result  of  that 
lecture  and  a  meeting  we  had  with  Jameson, 
NASA  chose  zeolites  as  one  focus." 

Because  of  its  reputation  in  the  zeolite 
community,  WPI  was  chosen  by  NASA  as  a 
founding  member  of  the  Clarkson  University 
Center  for  Commercial  Crystal  Growth  in 
Space,  one  of  several  centers  formed 
around  the  country  in  1986  to  lay  the 
groundwork  for  space  commercialization. 
Later,  WPl  was  also  invited  to  join  the  NASA- 
funded  Battelle  Advanced  Materials  Center 
in  Columbus,  Ohio,  where  researchers  were 
interested  in  finding  ways  to  process  cata- 
lysts in  space. 

As  a  member  of  the  Clarkson  and 
Battelle  centers,  WPI  has  received  more 
than  $3  million  over  the  past  five  years  from 
NASA  and  commercial  sponsors  to  develop 
a  zeolite  growth  experiment  for  the  first 
United  States  Microgravity  Laboratory,  a 
23-foot-long  cylinder  designed  to  fly  in  the 
cargo  bay  of  the  space  shuttle.  USML-1 
was  expected  to  be  a  showcase  for  Amer- 
ican microgravity  research  in  crystal 
growth,  fluid  dynamics,  combustion, 
biotechnology,  "astroculture"  and 
space  medicine. 

Before  designing  the  Zeolite  Crys- 
tal Growth  Experiment  (ZCG),  the  WPI 
research  team,  which  included  Sacco, 
the  principal  investigator,  and  chemi- 
cal engineering  professors  Thompson 
and  Anthony  G.  Dixon,  had  to  solve  a 
number  of  problems,  most  of  which 
revolved  around  the  challenge  of  tak- 
ing a  process  developed  over  many 
decades  to  work  well  in  gravity,  and 
making  it  succeed  when  gravity  was 
no  longer  a  dominant  force. 

"In  space,  secondary  forces  be- 
come dominant,"  Sacco  says.  "Instead 
of  gravity-driven  convection,  you  get 
concentration-  or  temperature-driven 
convection.  You  also  get  situations  in 
which  one  liquid  phase  pulls  away 
from  another  due  to  differences  in 
surface  tension." 


These  secondary  forces  threatened  to 
thwart  a  fundamental  requirement  of  zeolite 
synthesis — the  need  to  start  with  a  uniform, 
well-mixed  gel.  "The  makeup  of  the  gel  de- 
termines which  zeolites  you  get,"  Sacco 
says.  "If  you  don't  mix  the  solutions  homo- 
geneously before  the  gel  sets  up,  you  get  the 
wrong  silica/alumina  ratios — which  means 
you  get  an  uncontrolled  mess." 

To  overcome  these  problems,  one  can 
mix  the  solutions  on  the  ground  before 
launch.  This  is  what  Russian  and  European 
scientists  have  done;  it  was  also  the  tech- 
nique chosen  for  the  WPI  student  experi- 
ment. Unfortunately,  zeolite  crystals  begin 
forming  soon  after  the  two  solutions  are 
mixed.  Chemicals  can  be  added  to  delay 
crystal  formation  until  after  the  experiment 
is  in  orbit,  but  these  don't  always  work.  And 
if  the  launch  is  delayed,  the  experiment  can 
be  ruined,  as  the  WPI  team  well  knew.  While 
the  mixture  used  in  the  student  experiment 
was  stabilized  for  about  three  weeks,  the 
experiment  sat  on  the  ground  for  more  than 
three  times  that  long.  "We  knew  we  were  in 
trouble  right  from  the  start,"  Sacco  says. 
"The  hardware  worked  fine,  but  the  crystals 
were  garbage." 

The  WPI  team  decided  its  solutions 
would  have  to  be  mixed  in  orbit,  but  learn- 
ing how  to  do  this  would  prove  no  small 
task.  The  Space  Projects  Laboratory  on  the 
second  floor  of  Goddard  Hall  became  a  hot- 
bed of  fluid  dynamics  research  as  Sacco, 
Dixon,  Thompson  and  a  team  of  graduate 
students  and  postdoctoral  fellows  devel- 
oped techniques  to  overcome  secondary 
forces  and  produce  a  uniform  gel.  To  fine- 
tune  the  techniques,  Sacco  took  test  auto- 
claves aboard  NASA's  KC-135.  Nicknamed 


Sacco,  right,  and  fellow  APS  Joseph  Prahl 
test  zeolite  autoclaves  on  a  KC-135  flight. 


28 


Fall  1992 


the  "vomit  comet,"  the 
plane  provides  brief  pe- 
riods of  microgravity  as 
it  flies  through  a  roller- 
coaster-like  sequence 
of  parabolas. 

As  a  final  check  of 
their  ideas,  Sacco  con- 
vinced NASA  to  add 
an  experiment  to  the 
tightly  structured  time- 
line for  USMM.  In  it  an 
astronaut  would  mani- 
pulate 12  clear-plastic 
autoclaves  inside  a 
glove  box,  testing  sev- 
eral mixing  schemes  to 
see  which  produced  the 
most  uniform  solution. 


In  1989,  NASA  put  out  a 
call  for  candidates  to  fill 
four  payload  specialist 
positions  for  USML-1. 
Unlike  full-time  mission 
specialists,  who  are  ca- 
reer astronauts,  payload  specialists  are  sci- 
entists chosen  to  carry  out  particularly 
complicated  experiments  or  to  take  charge 
of  highly  specialized  payloads  on  specific 
shuttle  missions. 

Two  of  the  payload  specialists  for  USML-1 
would  actually  fly  on  the  shuttle;  the  others 
would  be  backups  who  would  undergo  the 
same  training  and  be  prepared  to  join  the 
mission  in  the  event  that  one  of  the  primary 
specialist  was  unable  to  fly.  One  mission  and 
one  backup  slot  each  would  go  to  experts 
in  fluid  dynamics;  the  other  positions  were 


The  crew  of  USML-1  pose  before  the  space  shuttle  Columbia.  Front  row,  left  to  right,  payload  comman- 
der Bonnie  J.  Dunbar,  mission  commander  Richard  (Dick)  N.  Richards  and  pilot  Kenneth  D.  Bowersox. 
Back  row,  left  to  right,  Sacco,  mission  specialist  Dr.  Ellen  S.  Baker,  payload  specialist  Eugene  H.  Trinh, 
mission  specialist  Carl  J.  Meade,  payload  specialist  Lawrence  J.  DeLucas  and  Prahl. 


Sacco  and  fellow  crystal  growth  expert  DeLucas 
train  in  the  spacelab  mock-up  in  Huntsville,  Ala. 


reserved  for  specialists  in  crystal  growth. 
The  announcement  rekindled  Sacco's 
childhood  space  dreams;  almost  instantly, 
he  was  on  the  phone  to  a  colleague,  who 
agreed  to  nominate  him.  Remembering 
an  earlier,  unsuccessful  application  to  the 
astronaut  corps,  he  waited  anxiously  for 
word  from  NASA.  This  time,  he  was  not  dis- 
appointed; he  had  made  the  semifinals  and 
would  compete  along  with  seven  other 
scientists  for  the  four  positions. 

The  culling  process  included  a  grueling, 
week-long  physical  and  psychological  exami- 
nation. "We  were  then  given  an  enor- 
mous amount  of  material  to  read — a 
whole  file  cabinet  full  of  technical 
information,"  Sacco  says,  "and  were 
quizzed  on  various  aspects  of  it  by 
members  of  NASA's  Investigators 
Working  Group." 

On  Aug.  6,  1990,  Sacco  received 
word  that  he  had  made  the  cut.  To 
reach  space,  though,  he  still  had  to 
convince  NASA  to  pick  him  over  his 
competitor,  Lawrence  J.  DeLucas,  an 
expert  in  protein  crystalization  at 
the  University  of  Alabama,  whose 
experiments  had  flown  on  several 
previous  shuttle  missions. 

The  road  to  the  final  decision 
started  later  that  summer,  when 
Sacco,  DeLucas  and  the  two  other 
payload  specialists  began  traveling 
two  weeks  each  month  to  the  uni- 
versities, corporations  and  NASA 
centers  preparing  more  than  30  ex- 
periments to  be  flown  on  USML-1. 


"Once  we  were  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  experiments,"  Sacco  says,  "we  started 
working  in  the  Payload  Crew  Training  Com- 
plex at  the  Marshall  Space  Flight  Center  in 
Huntsville,  Ala.,  where  they  had  a  complete, 
working  mock-up  of  the  spacelab.  The  only 
thing  it  lacked  was  microgravity." 

Working  12-hour  days,  the  payload  spe- 
cialists and  the  five-person  USML-1  crew 
(commander  Dick  Richards,  pilot  Ken 
Bowersox,  payload  commander  Bonnie 
Dunbar,  and  mission  specialists  Ellen  Baker 
and  Carl  Meade)  ran  through  the  mission 
timeline  again  and  again,  evaluating  and 
fine-tuning  the  planned  activities.  The  time- 
line mapped  out  the  crew's  actions  over  the 
13-day  mission  in  excruciating  detail.  Every 
activity — from  running  experiments  to  eat- 
ing and  sleeping — was  broken  down  into 
five-minute  intervals. 

The  crew's  training  also  prepared  them 
for  daily  life  in  the  space  shuttle,  the  world's 
most  sophisticated  spacecraft.  They  learned 
how  to  handle  materials  in  an  environment 
where  a  tiny  drop  of  water  floating  free  can 
be  disastrous.  They  were  taught  to  survive 
emergencies,  to  communicate  with  people 
on  the  ground,  and  to  do  the  most  mundane 
things — from  moving  about  to  going  to  the 
bathroom — in  the  absence  of  gravity. 

To  experience  the  sensation  of  riding 
a  rocket  into  orbit,  Sacco  was  spun  in  a 
centrifuge  at  more  than  three  times  the 
acceleration  of  gravity  and  wisked  through 
high-speed  aerobatics  in  a  T-38  jet  high 
over  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  To  learn  to  sur- 
vive a  water  landing,  he  donned  a  90-pound 


WPI  Journal 


29 


spacesuit  and  was  dropped  30  feet  into  a 
swimming  pool,  where  he  had  to  swim  out 
from  under  a  waterlogged  parachute  and 
tumble  backward  into  a  life  raft. 

He  scrambled  through  escape  drills  in 
a  shuttle  mock-up  and  jumped  out  of  air- 
planes to  prepare  for  a  launch  disaster.  He 
practiced  crawling  through  the  spaceplane's 
top  windows  and  rappeling  down  its  sides 
so  he  could  flee  a  crash-landed  shuttle.  He 
learned  to  use  a  fire  hose  to  create  a  curtain 
of  water  so  he  could  survive  a  launchpad 
fire.  And,  he  studied  everything  from  emer- 
gency medicine  to  using  the  many  shuttle 
and  spacelab  computer  systems. 

To  prepare  physically,  Sacco  followed 
an  aerobic  exercise  and  weight-training  pro- 
gram custom  tailored  to  his  body,  submit- 
ting to  frequent  physical  exams  that  charted 
his  progress.  And  he  let  a  NASA  dentist  drill 
out  and  replace  his  fillings  to  eliminate  air 
pockets  that  could  cause  painful  swelling  in 
the  reduced  atmospheric  pressure  inside 
the  shuttle. 

Near  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  train- 
ing, NASA  made  its  final  selection:  barring 
unforeseen  circumstances,  Sacco  would  re- 
main on  the  ground.  "As  you  can  well  imag- 
ine, this  was  not  the  news  I  wanted  to  hear," 
he  wrote  in  a  memo  to  the  chemical  engi- 
neering faculty.  "I  will  continue  to  do  my 


best  to  help  USML-1 
be  a  successful  mis- 
sion for  this  nation." 


While  training  con- 
tinued, Sacco  did  his 
best  to  carry  out  his 
duties  as  Chemical 
Engineering  Depart- 
ment head,  conduct- 
ing business  during 
daily  phone  calls  to 
Worcester.  He  also 
supervised  the  devel- 
opment of  the  Zeolite 
Crystal  Growth  Ex- 
periment, the  work  of 
a  design  team  consist 
ing  of  Sacco,  Thomp- 
son, Dixon,  Giacomo  P.  Ferraro  Jr.,  the 
department's  principal  lab  machinist,  and 
Nurcan  Bac,  a  visiting  professor  from  Middle 
East  Technical  University  in  Turkey. 

The  ZCG  comprised  two  primary  pieces 
of  hardware:  the  autoclaves  in  which  the 
alumina  and  silica  solutions  would  be  mixed 
and  in  which  the  crystals  would  grow,  and 
a  furnace  in  which  to  heat  the  autoclaves. 
Sacco  sketched  out  the  basic  design  for  the 
furnace,  a  70-pound  cylinder  roughly  the 


Below,  Sacco  inserts  an  autoclave  in  the  back-up  ZCG 
furnace,  which  was  used  in  the  control  experiment  at 
WPI.  Above,  he  undergoes  NASA  water  survival  training. 


size  of  a  small  microwave  oven.  Running 
the  length  of  the  cylinder  were  19  aluminum 
tubes  into  which  38  autoclaves  (19  primary 
units  and  19  backups)  would  be  placed. 
The  tubes  were  arranged  into  three  zones: 
a  center  tube  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  six 
tubes  surrounded,  in  turn,  by  a  circle  of  12. 

The  three  zones  would  provide  ideal 
growth  environments  for  the  three  zeolites 
WPI  planned  to  grow  during  the  mission. 
Since  each  zeolite  grows  best  at  a  different 
temperature,  it  would  be  necessary  for 
each  zone  to  be  maintained  at  a  distinct 
temperature  setting,  ranging  from  1 75°  C 
at  the  center  to  95°  C  in  the  outer  ring.  To 
confirm  that  the  furnace  could  accomplish 
this  using  the  100  watts  of  power  NASA  had 
allocated  the  experiment,  Dixon  developed 
a  computer  program  to  model  the  device's 
thermal  behavior. 

With  just  a  year  and  a  half  remaining 
to  develop  flight-ready  hardware,  Sacco, 
Ferraro,  Bac  and  Douglas  White,  the  depart- 
ment's electronics  technician,  spent  two 
weeks  turning  Sacco's  sketch  into  a  working 
prototype.  "We  called  on  WPI  alumni  who 
gave  us  bargain  basement  prices  on  some 
of  the  components  we  needed,"  Sacco  says. 
"As  a  result,  we  built  it  for  just  $40,000." 

With  actual  hardware  in  hand,  the  team 
fine-tuned  the  design.  At  the  same  time, 
Dixon  used  the  prototype  to  test  the  pre- 
dictions of  his  computer  model.  "Since  the 
predictions  and  the  real  data  didn't  always 
agree,"  he  says,  "I  used  my  best  judgement 
to  develop  the  temperature  profiles  that  ul- 
timately appeared  in  the  crew  procedures. 
During  the  mission,  the  temperatures  we 
saw  agreed  very  well  with  those  profiles, 
which  made  a  good  impression  at  NASA." 

While  work  progressed  on  the  furnace, 
Bac  and  Ferraro  designed  the  autoclaves. 
Machined  from  aluminum,  steel  and  tita- 
nium, these  tubes  contained  separate 


30 


Fall  1992 


chambers  for  the  alumina  and  silica  solu- 
tions. When  turned  with  an  electric  screw- 
driver, a  teflon  paddle  inside  the  autoclaves 
pressurized  one  chamber,  forcing  its  con- 
tents into  the  other.  Running  the  screw- 
driver in  reverse  pulled  the  mixture  back 
into  the  empty  chamber.  Several  complete 
cycles — called  activations — were  needed 
to  thoroughly  mix  the  gel. 

The  task  of  building  prototype  auto- 
claves fell  to  Ferraro.  "His  expertise  as  a 
precision  machinist  made  it  possible," 
Sacco  says.  "He  was  so  good,  NASA  machin- 
ists wanted  to  fly  out  here  to  learn  how  to 
build  these  things  to  such  tight  tolerances." 

After  it  had  received  NASA  approval  (the 
documentation  to  satisfy  the  agency's  safety 
and  design  requirements  would  ultimately 
fill  two  file  cabinets),  the  furnace  design  was 
turned  over  to  Teledyne  Brown  Engineering 
in  Huntsville,  Ala.,  and  Intech  Inc.  in  Santa 
Clara,  Calif.,  which  produced  a  flight-ready 
furnace  and  a  duplicate  unit  to  be  used  in  a 
control  experiment  at  WPI.  The  autoclaves 
were  built  by  a  precision  machine  shop  in 
Alabama. 

Teledyne  Brown  also  built  the  electric 
screwdriver  and  an  attachment  to  fit  the 
socket  in  the  autoclaves.  As  the  WPI  team 
prepared  for  a  critical  NASA  readiness  re- 
view just  a  few  weeks  before  launch,  it 
became  apparent  to  Ferraro  that  the  attach- 
ment was  not  strong  enough  and  might  fail 
in  use.  With  too  little  time  to  design  and  test 
a  new  part,  he  found  a  solution  at  a  local 
hardware  store. 

"During  the  review,  NASA  pointed  out 
the  problem,"  Ferraro  says,  "and  asked  how 
we  could  solve  it.  From  my  pocket  I  pulled 
a  $3.80  part  I  had  modified  and  said  we 
should  make  something  like  that.  The  NASA 
guys  looked  it  over  and  said,  'why  don't  we 
just  use  this  one.'  So  we  replaced  an  $8,000 
device  with  a  $3.80  part  from  the  hardware 
store." 

Perfecting  the  hardware  was  just  half  of 


The  flight  autoclaves  packed  in  their  stowage  box. 


the  battle.  Without  a  thorough 
understanding  of  the  chemistry 
of  the  zeolites  the  team  had  cho- 
sen to  grow,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  later  interpret  the  results  of 
the  ZCG.  Under  the  direction  of 
Thompson,  a  team  of  graduate 
students  ran  countless  samples 
under  a  wide  range  of  condi- 
tions and  studied  the  results. 

"One  problem  with  process- 
ing in  space  is  that  you  have 
to  know  what  you  get  on  the 
ground,"  Sacco  says.  "You  have 
to  know  everything  that  affects 
it,  otherwise  you  won't  be  able 
to  tell  what  was  due  to  micro- 
gravity  and  what  was  caused  by 
something  else.  That's  an  evolv- 
ing problem,  because  zeolites 
are  so  complicated  in  solution 
you  never  know  exactly  what's 
going  on.  But  we've  probably 
done  more  experiments  on  this 
than  anyone  else  in  the  country." 

Finally,  working  against  the 
odds,  WPI  delivered  completed  hardware  to 
NASA  on  schedule  and  within  its  assigned 
budget.  "It  often  takes  seven  to  eight  years 
to  develop  a  space  experiment,"  Sacco  says. 
"NASA  didn't  think  we  could  do  it  in  18 
months.  Fortunately,  they  were  flexible. 
They  allowed  us  to  miss  a  few  critical  design 
reviews  early  on.  And  a  few  times  when  we 
got  stuck,  mission  manager  Charlie  Sprinkle 
had  his  people  help  us  write  documentation. 
In  the  end,  though,  we  came  through." 


For  nearly  two  years,  the  ZCG  team  had 
labored  as  a  group.  But  as  the  launch  date 
for  USML-1  approached,  the  team  members 
prepared  to  split  up,  for  their  jobs  would 
now  take  them  far  afield. 

As  an  alternate  payload  specialist,  Sacco 
would  spend  the  mission  working  12-hour 
shifts  at  a  console  at 
the  Marshall  Space 
Flight  Center  in 
Huntsville,  Ala., 
where  he  would 
serve  as  the  primary 
communications  link 
between  the  astro- 
nauts and  the  more 
than  140  scientists  on 
the  ground  anxiously 
watching  their  ex- 
periments unfold. 
It  would  be  the  most 
grueling  work  he  had 
ever  done. 

"Being  an  APS  is 
the  toughest  job  in 


Nurcan  Bac,  left,  and  Giacomo  Ferraro  with  the  truck 
they  used  to  transport  their  supplies  to  Florida. 


the  world,"  he  says.  "You  have  to  be  emo- 
tionally ready  to  fly  on  a  mission  where  your 
life  is  at  stake.  You  have  to  be  functionally 
literate  in  all  the  orbiter  systems.  But  you 
also  have  to  know  more  about  the  mission 
science  than  the  flight  crew,  because  it's 
your  job  to  talk  with  the  scientists  on  the 
ground  and  translate  their  needs  into  lan- 
guage the  crew  can  understand." 

Dixon  and  Thompson  would  also  find 
themselves  at  Marshall.  Working  eight- 
hour  shifts  alongside  representatives  from 
Teledyne  Brown  and  Intech,  they  monitored 
the  ZCG's  status  and  stood  by  to  come  up 
with  solutions  should  anything  go  wrong. 

If  Sacco,  Dixon  and  Thompson  were  the 
actors  in  the  ZCG  drama,  it  fell  to  Bac  and 
Ferraro  to  set  the  stage.  In  mid-June  1992 
they  loaded  a  complete  chemistry  labora- 
tory and  the  better  part  of  a  machine  shop 
into  a  rental  truck  and  headed  south.  On 
June  18  they  arrived  at  the  Kennedy  Space 
Center  in  Florida,  where,  along  with  post- 
doctoral research  associates  Eric  Coker  and 
Juliusz  Warzywoda  and  graduate  student 
Ipek  Guray,  they  spent  16  hours  unloading 
the  truck  under  the  watchful  eyes  of  NASA 
quality-control  engineers. 

Over  the  next  few  days,  they  would  pre- 
pare alumina  and  silica  solutions  and  load 
them  into  more  than  80  autoclaves  (includ- 
ing 38  for  the  shuttle  experiment  and  38  for 
the  duplicate  experiment  in  Worcester). 
Early  on,  it  became  apparent  that  the  toler- 
ances on  the  internal  parts  of  some  of  the 
autoclaves  made  by  the  firm  in  Alabama 
were  off  by  a  few  thousandths  of  an  inch — 
just  enough  to  create  friction  when  the 


WPI  Journal 


31 


Working  in  an  assembly  line,  WPI's  Kennedy  Space  Center  team  prepare  the  autoclaves  for  USML-1.  They  are,  from 
left,  Robert  Whitmore  from  the  Battelle  Advanced  Materials  Center,  graduate  student  Ipek  Guray,  postdoctoral  fellow 
Juliusz  Warzywoda,  Bac,  postdoctoral  fellow  Eric  Coker  and  Ferraro.  The  team's  work  earned  praise  from  NASA. 


parts  were  turned  by  the  electric  screw- 
driver. That  friction,  they  knew,  could  pre- 
vent the  solutions  from  mixing  thoroughly. 
Ferraro  set  up  the  tools  he'd  brought  from 
Worcester  and,  racing  the  clock,  spent 
12  hours  remachining  the  parts. 

Ultimately,  the  autoclaves  were  loaded, 
packed  into  labeled  bags,  placed  in  a  box, 
and  turned  over  to  NASA  on  June  23.  At 
the  same  time,  Teledyne  Brown  representa- 
tives handed  over  the  screwdriver  and  a 
tool  the  astronauts  would  use  to  remove 
the  autoclaves  from  the  furnace.  As  that 
tool  changed  hands,  a  strip  of  Velcro  fell 
off  its  handle. 

Without  that  strip,  the  astronauts  would 
be  unable  to  secure  the  tool  to  Velcro  strips 
in  the  shuttle.  If  it  could  not  be  so  secured, 
the  tool  could  not  fly,  according  to  NASA 
safety  rules.  If  the  tool  didn't  fly,  the  experi- 
ment couldn't  be  run.  Suddenly,  two  years 
of  work  was  in  jeopardy  because  of  a  tiny 
strip  of  plastic.  Without  blinking  an  eye, 
Ferraro  reached  into  a  bag  of  equipment 


he'd  brought  from  Worcester  and  produced 
the  prototype  tool — with  its  Velcro  strip 
securely  fastened.  Though  it  was  not  flight 
certified,  NASA  inspectors  gave  it  their 
blessing.  Once  again,  Ferraro  had  saved 
the  experiment. 

For  Bac,  Ferraro  and  the  graduate  stu- 
dents, it  had  been  an  exhausting  five  days. 
As  they  prepared  to  pack  up,  mission  man- 
ager Sprinkle  and  his  assistant,  Paul  Gilbert, 
stopped  by  to  compliment  the  WPI  team  on 
a  job  well  done.  Similar  compliments  would 
soon  reach  Sacco,  Dixon  and  Thompson  in 
Huntsville.  "Two  people  who  were  at  Ken- 
nedy took  it  upon  themselves  to  tell  us  what 
a  wonderfully  professional  and  dedicated 
group  we  had  and  how  smoothly  the  opera- 
tion had  gone,"  Thompson  says.  "They 
didn't  have  to  do  that." 

On  the  morning  of  June  25,  Bac  and 
Ferraro  watched  the  USML-1  crew  board 
a  van  for  the  launchpad,  then  took  their 
seats  in  the  VIP  viewing  area  to  see  Colum- 
bia rise  on  a  massive  column  of  flame  and 


smoke,  roll  gracefully,  and  begin  its  journey 
into  space. 

With  mixed  emotions,  Sacco  watched  the 
launch  on  television  at  his  console  in  Hunts- 
ville. "People  often  ask  me  whether  I  felt  bad 
about  not  being  up  there,"  he  says.  "I  did, 
but  not  for  the  reason  they  think.  I  had  lived 
with  those  guys  for  two  years;  they  had  be- 
come like  family.  Suddenly  they  were  going 
off  to  do  something  1  knew  was  dangerous, 
and  I  felt  1  should  be  with  them.  1  felt  almost 
like  a  traitor,  because  I  was  no  longer  put- 
ting my  ass  on  the  line  like  they  were." 

Sacco  quickly  learned  that  his  job  would 
be  as  challenging — if  not  more  so — than 
those  of  the  seven  men  and  women  orbiting 
overhead.  Pulling  on  his  headset,  he  felt  as 
though  he  had  landed  in  a  simultaneous 
translator's  nightmare.  Into  his  ears  flowed 
a  constant  stream  of  voices — up  to  14  con- 
versations at  once:  scientists,  engineers, 
spacecraft  operations  people,  and  dozens 
of  other  men  and  women  talking  to  Sacco 
and  to  each  other. 


32 


Fall  1992 


He  says  he  quickly  became  adept  at  pick- 
ing out  of  this  cacophony  the  information  he 
needed.  As  a  scientist  and  an  astronaut  who 
had  trained  with  the  spacelab  crew,  he  was 
in  a  unique  position  to  work  with  the  rest 
of  the  mission  scientists  to  fix  the  problems 
the  astronauts  would  encounter  and  to  relay 
the  solutions  back  up  to  the  crew. 

"An  astronaut's  on-orbit  time  costs  about 
$23,000  a  minute,"  he  says.  "When  they  have 
a  problem,  they  don't  waste  time  looking  up 
the  answer — that's  done  on  the  ground.  So 
I  had  to  be  able  to  focus  everyone  on  the 
problem  at  hand."  In  addition  to  solving 
problems,  Sacco  worked  with  timeline  engi- 
neers, crew  procedure  engineers  and  others 
to  continually  revamp  the  mission  sched- 
ule— often  several  days  into  the  future — and 
to  make  sure  that  valuable  time  on  data  and 
television  downlink  channels  would  be  avail- 
able to  scientists  who  needed  them. 

"The  researchers  were  always  afraid 
they  were  going  to  lose  their  science,"  Sacco 
says.  "Every  one  of  those  guys  was  a  world- 
class  scientist,  and  if  they  thought  you  were 
trying  to  take  away  a  minute  of  their  time, 
they'd  get  big-time  upset."  In  the  end,  Sacco 
says,  careful  rearranging  of  the  timeline  al- 
lowed the  USML-1  crew  to  actually  get  more 
work  done  on  the  science  experiments  than 
was  planned,  an  extraordinary  achievement. 

Once,  when  a  potential  leak  in  a  seal  on  a 
glovebox  attached  to  a  large  crystal  growth 
furnace  placed  a  portion  of  the  mission  sci- 
ence in  jeopardy,  Sacco  devoted  one  of  his 
12-hour  shifts  to  working  with  hardware  ex- 
perts to  come  up  with  a  solution.  His  efforts 
earned  him  a  special  recognition  award  from 
NASA  administrator  Daniel  S.  Goldin.  But 
most  of  Sacco's  time  in  Huntsville  was  spent 
in  the  pressure-cooker  environment  of  the 
APS  console. 

"As  an  APS,  I  had  to  be  prepared  for  emer- 


Wearing  protective  goggles,  Bonnie  Dunbar  prepares  a  ZCG  autoclave  in 
Columbia's  mid-deck.  When  friction  due  to  a  machining  problem  drained 
the  batteries  in  an  electric  screwdriver  she  was  using  to  activate  the 
autoclaves,  she  finished  the  job  with  a  ratchet  wrench. 


gencies,"  he  says.  "If  something  went  seri- 
ously wrong  with  an  experiment,  it  could  re- 
quire a  split-second  decision.  I  had  a  lot  of 
people  backing  me  up,  but  I  was  the  crunch 
point;  I  had  to  focus  it  and  voice  it  up  to  the 
crew.  I  was  also  given  the  authority  to  ques- 
tion a  command  and  stop  it  from  going  up." 
At  the  end  of  each  shift,  Sacco  spent  an 
hour  with  the  scientists  he'd  worked  with 
that  day  to  ask  how  he  might  better  serve 
them  on  his  next  shift.  After  taking  time  for 
dinner,  he'd  return  to  his  room,  utterly  ex- 
hausted, and  try  to  grab  some  sleep  before 
returning  to  the  control  room  an  hour  early 
to  confer  with  fellow  APS  Joseph  M.  Prahl, 
professor  of  engineering  at  Case  Western 
Reserve  University, 
who  worked  compli- 
mentary 12-hour  shifts 
on  the  console. 

"Al  was  a  real  as- 
set to  the  flight,"  says 
payload  commander 
Dunbar.  "When  we  are 
flying  flights  like  this, 
which  are  a  combina- 
tion of  science  and 
operations,  it's  impor- 
tant to  have  a  good 
mix  of  the  two  [in  an 
APS],  because  he  has 
to  make  real-time 
decisions — and  make 
sound  ones.  He  has 
to  interpret  a  lot  of 
information  in  a  few 


Ferraro  works  against  the  clock  to  remachine  the  autoclaves. 


words.  Al  was  an 


indispensable  contributor  to  the  success 
of  the  mission." 


Early  on  the  first  day  of  the  mission, 
Dunbar  started  the  glove  box  experiment 
for  the  zeolite  crystal  growth  team.  As  she 
worked,  she  noticed  something  odd  about 
one  of  the  clear-plastic  autoclaves  and 
asked  Sacco  for  his  opinion.  What  Sacco 
saw  on  the  television  screen  looked  like 
some  sort  of  seepage  inside  the  autoclave. 
But  he  didn't  say  seepage;  without  thinking, 
he  called  the  phenomenon  a  leak. 

"Immediately,"  Dixon  says,  "I  had  a  bunch 
of  people  on  my  headset  saying,  "Leak? 
What  leak?  Tell  me  about  this  leak.  Is  there 
any  danger?  Can  anything  get  out?'  So  I  had 
to  tell  them,  'In  this  case,  leak  means  it's 
contained.'  You  learn  that  the  first  thing  you 
say  is,  'it's  contained — it's  not  coming  out.'" 

Bac,  Ferraro  and  Coker,  who  were  also 
watching  the  experiment  on  TV,  knew  ex- 
actly what  was  happening.  Because  of  the 
machining  problem,  which  Ferraro  had  not 
been  able  to  correct  completely,  capillary 
action  was  causing  the  alumina  and  silica 
solutions  to  "wick"  harmlessly  to  the  inside 
wall  of  the  autoclave.  Within  minutes,  they 
called  Dixon,  who  relayed  the  information 
to  Sacco.  As  quickly  as  it  arose,  the  furor 
over  the  "leak"  subsided. 

Later  that  day,  Dunbar  began  activating 
the  ZCG's  autoclaves  and  loading  them  into 
the  furnace,  which,  because  it  would  need 
little  attention  once  fired  up,  had  been 
placed  in  the  shuttle  mid-deck  rather  than 


WPI  Journal 


33 


After  a  record-setting  14-day  mission,  Columbia  touched  down  at  the  Kennedy 
Space  Center  on  July  8,  1992.  On  board  was  a  precious  cargo:  a  box  loaded 
with  38  autoclaves  containing  zeolite  crystals  grown  in  microgravity. 


in  the  spacelab  module.  But  before  she 
could  finish,  the  electric  screwdriver  gave 
out.  Due  to  the  machining  problem,  "there 
was  a  little  more  resistance  than  we'd  anti- 
cipated," she  says,  "which  used  up  the  bat- 
teries. So  we  went  to  a  manual  activation. 
We  had  to  be  a  little  creative  with  our  tool- 
kit. We  got  a  ratchet  wrench  out,  made  the 
attachment,  and  went  from  there." 

After  about  two  hours,  the  furnace  was 
loaded;  Dunbar  screwed  on  the  faceplate 
and  turned  on  the  circuitry.  In  about  eight 
hours,  the  furnace  would  reach  its  operating 
temperature.  For  Dixon  and  Thompson,  the 
excitement  was  over.  "Because  the  planning 
had  been  so  successful,  there  was  little  for 
us  to  do,"  Thompson  says.  Dixon  puts  it  this 
way:  "We  said  all  through  the  practice  runs 
that  we'd  be  bored  stupid,  and  we  were." 

But  one  person's  boredom  is  another's 
delight.  Up  in  Columbia,  Dunbar  could  not 
have  been  happier  about  the  ZCG's  success. 
"We  always  go  into  working  a  new  piece  of 
hardware  in  zero-G  with  the  assumption  that 
it's  a  research  and  development  environ- 
ment, because  you  can't  simulate  zero-G 
for  any  significant  time  on  the  ground,"  she 
says.  "You  give  it  your  best  engineering  and 
science  judgement,  but  you  provide  for  the 
fact  that  there  may  be  problems.  So  I  was 
very  pleased  that  they  got  up  there,  they 
held  the  temperature  the  way  they  wanted 
to,  and  they  controlled  it  the  way  they 
wanted.  We  never  had  to  intervene.  I  think 
they  get  an  A+  for  operations." 

For  Bac  and  Ferraro,  there  was  little  time 
for  boredom.  Having  loaded  the  truck,  they 
returned  to  Worcester  to  prepare  to  run  the 


duplicate  ZCG  along  with  Coker,  Warzywoda 
and  Guray.  Using  information  relayed  by 
Dixon  and  Thompson,  they  prepared  the 
autoclaves  exactly  as  Dunbar  had  done, 
then  monitored  the  furnace  to  make  sure 
its  temperature  profile  matched  that  of  the 
space  unit.  Later,  by  comparing  the  results 
of  the  two  experiments,  the  researchers 
would  be  able  to  determine  whether  micro- 
gravity  really  made  a  difference  in  the  size 
of  the  zeolites  they  grew  in  orbit. 

Nearly  nine  days  after  it  was  activated, 
the  ZCG  was  shut  down  and  allowed  to  cool. 
Dunbar  then  retrieved  the  autoclaves  and 
returned  them  to  their  stowage  box.  In  Wor- 
cester, Bac  boarded  a  plane  and  headed  for 
Edwards  Air  Force  Base  in  California  to 
collect  the  box.  He  awoke  the  morning  of 
Columbia's  scheduled  landing  to  find  that, 
due  to  bad  weather  at  Edwards,  the  mission 
was  being  extended  to  a  record  14th  day.  He 
also  learned  that  the  landing  site  had  been 
changed  to  Florida. 

Hopping  another  plane,  he  arrived  at 
Kennedy  Space  Center  just  in  time  to  re- 
trieve the  autoclaves  and  head  for  the 
airport  once  more.  The  return  of  the  auto- 
claves to  Worcester  brought  down  the 
curtain  on  the  Zeolite  Crystal  Growth  Ex- 
periment. But  ahead  of  the  WP1  team  lay 
the  task  of  examining  and  learning  from 
the  crystals  they  had  grown. 

For  Sacco,  the  end  of  the  mission 
brought  his  first  real  chance  to  rest  after 
more  than  two  years  of  working  in  high  gear 
and  two  weeks  of  14-hour  days.  "I  didn't  feel 
it  right  away,"  he  says.  "The  excitement  and 
adrenaline  kept  me  going.  But  two  days  after 


I  got  off  console,  I  was  sleeping  12  hours 
straight,  and  during  the  12  hours  I  was 
awake  I  wasn't  worth  anything." 


With  the  help  of  Ronald  R.  Biederman,  pro- 
fessor of  mechanical  engineering,  the  WPI 
team  put  their  space-grown  crystals  under 
the  electron  microscope.  They  also  studied 
them  with  x-ray  diffraction,  x-ray  photo- 
spectroscopy  and  nuclear  magnetic  reso- 
nance. What  they  saw  was  encouraging. 

"We  got  enhanced  size,  which  is  what  we 
had  predicted,"  Sacco  says.  "Compared  to 
the  best  crystals  we've  ever  grown  in  our 
labs  here  at  WPI,  which  are  about  50  to  90 
microns  (millionths  of  a  meter)  on  a  edge, 
the  space  crystals  were  40  percent  larger 
in  linear  dimensions,  96  percent  larger  in 
area  and  200  percent  larger  in  volume." 
They  also  appear  to  be  far  more  perfect 
than  Earth-grown  crystals,  he  adds. 

(It's  important  to  note,  Sacco  says,  that 
WPI's  best  Earth-grown  crystals,  which  were 
produced  under  carefully  controlled  condi- 
tions, are  significantly  larger  than  the  crys- 
tals typically  used  in  industry.  The  crystals 
produced  in  space  are  many  times  larger 
than  those  tiny  zeolites.) 

While  the  experiment  was  a  success, 
Sacco  says  it  didn't  accomplish  everything 


The  space  zeolites  proved  significantly 
larger  and  more  perfect  than  those 
grown  in  the  control  furnace  back  at  WPI. 


34 


Fall  1992 


During  the  USML-1  mission,  Sacco,  as  an  alternate  payload  specialist,  served  as  the  primary  communications 
link  between  the  astronauts  and  the  scientists  and  engineers  on  the  ground.  Working  at  this  console  at  the 
Marshall  Space  Flight  Center,  he  helped  solve  problems  the  spacelab  crew  encountered  and  continually  re- 
worked the  mission  timeline.  Sacco  is  shown  here  with,  left  to  right,  Anna  Bathew,  NASA  data  management 
coordinator,  Alan  Johnston,  crew  interface  coordinator,  and  Karla  Kochevar,  a  timeline  engineer. 


the  ZCG  team  had  hoped.  In  particular,  the 
mixing  problem  probably  prevented  the 
crystals  from  growing  as  large  as  they  might 
have.  "We  got  a  scientific  gold  star,"  he  says, 
"but  for  what  we  eventually  want  to  accom- 
plish, we  have  to  go  much  further." 

NASA,  pleased  with  the  results  of  the 
first  run  of  the  ZCG,  has  already  booked  the 
experiment  on  Spacehab  1,  a  small  spacelab 
set  to  fly  on  a  five-day  shuttle  mission  in  the 
spring  of  1993.  Pending  the  results  of  that 
flight,  the  experiment  should  also  be  aboard 
a  second  Spacehab  mission  in  1994  and  on 
USML-2  in  1995.  The  WPI  researchers  have 
even  been  given  space  on  the  proposed 
space  station  Freedom. 

"The  idea  of  this  preliminary  experiment 
was  to  demonstrate  that  microgravity  either 
does  or  does  not  have  something  to  do  with 
the  growth  of  zeolites,"  Thompson  says.  "It 
appears  at  this  time  that  it  does,  so  the  ob- 
jective was  met.  What  we  have  to  do  in  the 
next  several  months  is  to  interpret  the  data 
on  some  firm  scientific  basis  and  see  what 
the  next  logical  step  will  be." 

Sacco  says  the  next  run  of  the  ZCG  will 
benefit  from  better  machining  of  the  auto- 


claves, resulting  in  better  mixing.  In  addi- 
tion, the  results  from  the  first  experiment 
demonstrated  clearly  which  mixing  strate- 
gies work  best,  so  only  those  will  be  used 
next  time.  Because  of  the  short  duration  of 
the  Spacehab  mission,  the  team  will  not  be 
looking  to  grow  larger  crystals — that  will 
have  to  wait  for  longer  missions  later  on. 

Ultimately,  though,  Sacco  says  the  WPI 
team  expects  to  grow  crystals  significantly 
larger  than  those  produced  on  USML-1 — 
perhaps  as  big  as  half  a  millimeter  to  a 
millimeter  on  a  side.  Crystals  that  big,  if 
produced  in  sufficient  quantities,  could 
revolutionize  the  chemical  processing  in- 
dustry, he  notes.  In  particular,  large  crys- 
tals will  greatly  enhance  the  purification 
of  chemicals  and  drugs.  Since  separations 
account  for  65  percent  of  the  cost  of  most 
chemical  products,  enhancing  purification 
will  significantly  lower  production  costs. 

Large  crystals  will  also  make  it  easier  for 
chemical  engineers  to  study  what  makes 
zeolites  tick.  With  this  new  knowledge,  they 
can  custom  design  new  zeolite  catalysts 
that  will  increase  the  yields  of  many  high- 
volume  chemical  industries  and  reduce 


waste  products  at  the  same  time.  Will  such 
applications  justify  the  significant  cost  of 
manufacturing  zeolites  in  space?  "If  I  can 
spend  $1  million  to  grow  crystals  that 
improve  the  yield  of  gasoline  refining — a 
multibillion-dollar  business — by  1  percent," 
Sacco  says,  "then  that  $1  million  will  yield 
billions  in  savings." 

For  the  moment,  though,  Sacco  and  the 
rest  of  the  ZCG  team  are  thinking  about  a  dif- 
ferent sort  of  payoff— the  recognition  their 
work  has  helped  bring  to  the  Institute.  "WPI's 
name  is  solid  gold  at  NASA  now,"  Sacco  says. 
"We're  considered  almost  a  miracle  school. 
People  don't  know  what  to  make  of  us.  A 
lot  of  the  university  people  involved  with 
USML-1  had  never  heard  of  us,  because  we 
are  primarily  an  undergraduate  school. 

"1  think  we  really  showed  them,  and  it 
will  pay  dividends  beyond  everyone's  imagi- 
nation. We  came  together  in  a  moment  in 
time  and  decided  that  this  experiment  was 
bigger  than  everybody's  ego,  professional 
development  or  leisure  time.  We  decided 
we  were  going  to  do  it.  And  we  did  it  as 
good  as,  if  not  better  than,  anybody  else 
could  have." 


WPI  Journal 


35 


.. 


Court  of 
Honor 


By  Ruth  Trask 


As  America's 

Top  Judge, 

Ernest 

Hayeck 

Metes  Out 

Justice  With 

Compassion, 

Firmness 

and  Humor 


T 

I  his  is  beyond  my  wildest  dreams,"  says  Worcester 
I  Central  District  Court  Judge  Ernest  Hayeck  '47,  who 
I  received  one  of  the  American  Bar  Association's  highest 
m.  honors  at  the  organization's  annual  awards  ceremony 
in  July.  "Only  in  America  could  such  a  thing  come  true. 
1  happened  to  be  in  the  right  place  at  the  right  time.  I 
was  lucky." 

As  the  recipient  of  the  ABA's  Franklin  N.  Flaschner  Award, 
Hayeck  was  recognized  as  the  top  judge  in  the  nation.  While 
Judge  Hayeck  may  modestly  attribute  this,  the  latest  and 
most  prestigious  in  a  long  list  of  honors  he  has  won,  to  luck, 
his  colleagues — and  even  some  of  the  convicts  he  has 
imprisoned— tell  another  story.  In  a  nutshell,  they  say  he 
bends  over  backward  to  be  fair  to  all  who  come  before 
him — not  only  defendants,  but  victims,  as  well. 

In  fact,  Hayeck's  concern  for  the  welfare  of  victims  has 
brought  him  to  national  prominence.  When  he  was  chair- 
man of  the  National  Conference  of  Special  Court  Judges  of 
the  ABA,  he  helped  write  a  Statement  of  Recommended 
Judicial  Practices  that  has  been  used  as  a  model  for  victims' 
rights  legislation  across  the  country. 

His  leadership,  along  with  his  role  in  securing  a  $250,000 
grant  from  the  U.S.  Justice  Department,  resulted  in  the  Na- 
tional Conference  of  the  Judiciary  on  the  Rights  of  Victims. 
At  that  conference,  held  in  1983,  judges  from  every  state  in 
the  nation  were  brought  together  at  The  National  Judicial 
College  to  discuss  the  problems  and  rights  of  victims. 

While  acknowledging  the  importance  of  the  rights  of 
defendants,  which  are  carefully  defined  in  American  law, 
Hayeck  says  victims  of  crime  often  receive  serious  physical, 


" 


36 


Fall  1992 


Judge  Ernest  Hayeck's  dedication  to  the  rights  of  victims 
has  earned  him  the  respect  of  his  peers. 


psychological  and  financial  injuries  as  a  result  of  crimes 
committed  against  them.  Before  the  National  Conference  of 
the  Judiciary  promulgated  its  recommendations,  victims' 
rights  had  never  been  clearly  defined,  he  notes. 

"Victims  of  and  witnesses  to  crime  frequently  must  take 
time  off  from  work  and  make  other  personal  sacrifices,  pos- 
sibly subjecting  themselves  to  risk  of  intimidation  and  in- 
jury," he  says.  "The  criminal  justice  system  depends  on  the 
willing  cooperation  of  victims  and  witnesses  in  order  to 
perform  its  primary  function  of  protecting  all  citizens  in  this 
country." 

To  give  victims  and  witnesses  fairer  treatment  in  crimi- 
nal cases,  Hayeck  proposed  that  they  be  provided  essential 
information  about  court  procedures  and  courthouse  facili- 
ties; be  allowed  to  participate,  and  where  appropriate,  give 
input  through  the  prosecutor  to  testify  in  all  stages  of  judi- 
cial proceedings;  and  be  protected  from  harassment,  threats, 
intimidation  and  harm.  He  also  recommended  that  judges  at 
the  trial  and  appellate  levels  be  encouraged  to  participate  in 
training  programs  dealing  with  the  rights,  problems,  needs 
and  legal  interests  of  crime  victims. 

Victims  of  crime,  he  says,  should  not  be  victims  of  the 
criminal  justice  system,  as  well.  By  virtue  of  their  position  of 
authority  in  the  American  judicial  system  and  their  promi- 
nence in  their  communities,  judges  can  play  a  critical  role  in 
making  sure  that  doesn't  happen.  He  says  judges  can  take 
an  important  step  toward  improving  the  lot  of  victims  by 
simply  evaluating  their  own  attitudes  and  the  attitudes  of 
their  staffs  toward  these  individuals. 

With  the  national  spotlight  focused  on  the  rights  of  vic- 
tims, a  number  of  victims'  rights  groups,  including  the  Na- 
tional Victim  Center,  have  been  organized  over  the  past 
decade.  "Incidentally,"  Hayeck  says,  "1  met  Christine  Edmunds, 
director  of  program  development  for  the  National  Victim 
Center,  at  The  National  Judicial  College  in  August.  I  was 
pleased  to  learn  she  is  the  niece  of  Professor  Emeritus  Albert 
Schwieger,  one  of  my  favorite  former  WP1  professors." 

Hayeck  is  noted  for  running  a  simple,  straightforward 
court,  where  justice  is  meted  out  with  compassion,  firmness 
and  humor.  "I  want  the  prisoners  to  know  why  they  must  go 
to  jail,"  he  says.  "I  want  them  to  feel  the  seriousness  of  what 
they  have  done.  I  don't  believe  in  simply  slapping  wrists." 

For  example,  when  a  gang  of  youths  desecrated  a  cem- 
etery, Hayeck  sent  them  to  jail  rather  than  giving  them  the 
option  of  community  service,  as  other  judges  have  done  in 
similar  cases.  "Most  of  those  tombstones  belonged  to  poor, 
elderly  families  who  couldn't  easily  replace  them,"  he  says. 
"They  were  heartbroken  and  devastated  by  what  those  boys 
did.  The  culprits  deserved  to  go  to  jail." 

Over  the  years,  a  surprising  number  of  prisoners  have 
thanked  Hayeck  for  his  brand  of  justice,  saying  it  helped 
deter  them  from  returning  to  familiar  patterns  when  they 
were  released  from  jail.  But  Hayeck  is  no  "hanging  judge." 
His  kindnesses  on  the  bench  are  legendary. 

Once,  when  one  of  the  parties  in  a  lawsuit  would  accept 
nothing  less  than  $350  and  the  other  party  would  pay  only 
$300  and  not  a  penny  more,  Hayeck  opened  his  wallet  and 
made  up  the  $50  difference  on  the  spot.  "Fifty  bucks  made 


In  his  Worcester  courtroom,  Hayeck  is  known  for  his  compassion 
and  fairness,  and  for  his  uncanny  ability  to  put  people  at  ease. 


all  the  difference  in  the  world  to  the  kid  in  question,"  he  said  in  a 
newspaper  interview  at  the  time.  "It  seemed  like  the  right  thing  to  do." 

Hayeck  says  he  cares  about  the  people  in  his  courtroom  as  indi- 
viduals. To  put  the  men  and  women  who  come  before  him  at  ease,  he 
sometimes  gives  a  brief  discourse  on  the  etymology  of  their  sur- 
names, drawing  on  his  working  knowledge  of  several  languages.  "For 
the  average  person,  an  appearance  in  court  is  a  traumatic,  frightening 
experience,"  he  says.  "1  feel  that  to  the  extent  he  can  do  so,  a  judge 
should  put  people  at  ease,  but  without  demeaning  the  dignity  or  the 
solemnity  of  the  proceedings." 

During  his  22  years  on  the  bench,  Hayeck  has  heard  a  wide  variety 
of  cases — civil  and  criminal — ranging  from  the  simplest  to  the  most 
complicated  and  serious.  He  can  lay  claim  to  having  presided  over  the 
largest  medical  malpractice  jury  verdict  ever  handed  down  in  Massa- 
chusetts. In  November  1986  a  jury  awarded  a  plaintiff  $9.72  million  in 
Harlow  v.  Chin  and  Massachusetts  General  Hospital. 

As  he  hears  the  cases  that  come  before  him,  Hayeck  says  he  is  ever 
mindful  of  his  role  as  a  public  servant.  "The  court  belongs  to  the 
people,"  he  explains.  "A  judge  or  a  judge  and  jury  hear  the  evidence, 
determine  the  verdict,  and  the  sentence  is  decided  by  the  judge.  I 
never  forget  for  one  moment  that  mine  is  an  awesome  responsibility. 
What  I  do  can  have  a  great  and  sometimes  irreversible  impact.  But 
1  don't  have  any  problem  making  up  my  mind.  None  whatsoever.  If  I 
did,  1  think  I'd  belong  in  another  business." 

America's  foremost  judge  says  he  is  perfectly  happy  with  his  court- 
house digs,  although  they  are  not  luxurious  by  any  means.  In  fact,  he  is 
unabashedly  proud  of  having  made  it  in  Worcester  rather  than  in  New 


York  City  or  Los  Angeles.  He  says  the  gilt  trappings  of 
big-city  success  mean  little  to  him.  "I'm  a  living  example 
of  how  you  can  succeed  in  your  own  backyard,"  he 
says.  "The  grass  isn't  always  greener  somewhere  else." 
No  matter  what  his  location,  Hayeck  is  sought  out 
by  those  in  high  places  from  coast  to  coast.  His  col- 
leagues hail  him  as  a  national  leader  in  judicial  educa- 
tion. Milford  (Mass.)  District  Court  Judge  Francis  J. 
Larkin,  who  nominated  Hayeck  for  the  Flaschner  Award, 
says  "he  has  compiled  an  enviable  reputation  as  a  judi- 
cial-educator who  combines  broad  erudition  with  pow- 
ers of  clear  exposition  and  eloquent,  pungent  writing." 
Hayeck  is  a  faculty  member  at  the  only  college  for 
judges  in  America.  The  National  Judicial  College  in 
Reno,  Nev.,  where  all  of  the  students  and  most  of  the 
faculty  are  judges,  was  established  many  years  ago  at 
the  University  of  Nevada  under  the  aegis  of  the  U.S. 
Supreme  Court.  Private  funds  were  sought  for  the 
creation  of  the  college,  which  is  affiliated  with  the 
ABA.  Since  the  Fleischman  Foundation  of  Reno  pro- 
vided the  most  substantial  initial  funding  and 
continuing  support,  the  college  was  located  in  the 
foundation's  hometown. 

Judges  from  all  over  the  country  and  all  over  the 
world  attend  the  college.  Many  states  require  their 
judges  to  attend.  In  the  near  future,  100  judges  from 
Russia  will  enroll.  Tuition  is  substantial  and  the  train- 
ing rigorous.  Classes  start  promptly  at  8  a.m.  and  run 
until  5  p.m.,  seven  days  a  week.  The  faculty  serves  pro 
bono  publico — on  a  voluntary  basis. 
It  is  an  honor  to  be  chosen  to  teach  at  the  college,  Hayeck  says. 
Faculty  members  are  anonymously  evaluated  by  all  the  students  for 
every  lecture  they  give,  in  every  course  they  teach.  If  his  evaluations 
drop,  an  instructor  is  not  invited  to  return.  Hayeck  started  teaching  at 
the  college  in  1974  and  he  has  been  invited  back  every  year  since.  His 
evaluations  have  been  remarkable.  For  the  most  recent  session,  during 
which  he  taught  advanced  evidence,  among  other  subjects,  his  mean 
rating  was  6.8  out  of  a  possible  7. 

In  postcourse  reviews  his  students  have  said,  "Judge  Hayeck's 
lectures  are  clear,  concise  and  practical,"  and  "he  is  a  brilliant  man 
who  has  a  flair  for  teaching."  One  student  noted,  "He  should  be 
teaching  law  school  students.  They'd  love  him." 

In  addition  to  serving  on  the  faculty  at  The  National  Judicial  Col- 
lege, Hayeck  served  the  maximum  allowable  six  years  on  the  college's 
board  of  directors  and  was  vice  chairman  of  the  board  when  U.S. 
Supreme  Court  Justice  Warren  Burger  was  chairman. 

Also,  long  concerned  with  the  rights  of  prisoners  and  minorities, 
Hayeck  helped  spearhead  the  first  National  Conference  of  the  Judi- 
ciary on  Jail  and  Prison  Crowding.  He  is  a  longtime  member  of  the  ABA 
Commission  on  Opportunities  for  Minorities  in  the  Profession.  While 
he  was  chairman  of  the  Judicial  Administration  Division  (JAD)  of  the 
ABA,  he  created  the  Judicial  Administration  Division  Task  Force  on 
Minorities  in  the  Judiciary. 

Francis  S.  Moran  Jr.,  executive  director  of  the  Boston  Bar  Associa- 
tion, says,  "Few  if  any  lawyers  in  the  country  have  done  as  much  to 
further  the  cause  of  broadening  opportunities  for  minorities  in  the 
legal  profession  as  Judge  Hayeck.  In  his  years  on  the  bench,  he  has 


38 


Fall  1992 


also  made  a  profound  impact  on  the  improvement  of  judicial  educa- 
tion, not  only  in  Massachusetts  but  in  the  nation  as  a  whole." 

Moran,  chairman  of  the  ABA  awards  board,  had  good  documenta- 
tion to  back  up  Hayeck's  nomination,  as  Hayeck  has  served  as  chair- 
man of  the  Massachusetts  District  Court  Committee  on  Judicial 
Education. 

Former  Michigan  Supreme  Court  Justice  Dennis  Archer  was  the 
keynote  speaker  at  Hayeck's  ABA  award  presentation  in  San  Francisco 
in  July.  Anthony  Lewis,  a  columnist  for  The  New  York  Times  and  two- 
time  winner  of  the  Pulitzer  Prize,  also  attended  the  ceremony.  As 
the  keynote  speaker  at  the  opening  assembly  of  the  ABA,  Lewis 
commended  Hayeck  and  quoted  him  in  his  speech. 

In  recommending  Hayeck  for  the  award,  Justice  Archer  cited 
Hayeck's  hard  work  in  the  ABA  Minor- 
ity Counsel  Demonstration  Program. 
He  noted  that  he  was  also  impressed 
that  Hayeck  was  instrumental  in  get- 
ting the  JAD  to  form  a  task  force  that 
has  increased  the  number  of  minority 
judges  who  belong  to  the  ABA  and  the 
JAD,  and  encouraged  more  judges  to 
hire  minority  law  clerks.  Of  Hayeck,  he 
wrote,  "A  person  who  thinks  of  others 
first,  who  uses  his  intellectual  skills  to 
demonstrate  fairness  and  to  benefit 
mankind  while  wearing  his  heart  on 
his  sleeve  and  providing  service  to 
our  profession  is  more  than  worthy  of 
consideration." 

As  a  teenager,  Hayeck  never  saw 
himself  in  the  legal  profession.  He  grew 
up  on  Grafton  Hill  in  Worcester,  where 
he  used  to  get  in  trouble  for  taking 
mechanical  things  apart  and  putting 
them  back  together,  making  his 
own  batteries  of  copper,  zinc  and 
sulfuric  acid,  and  devising  his  own 
transformers. 

"Justice  at  home  was  always  swift," 
he    recalls.    "Sometimes    it    was 

a  whack.  1  had  two  brothers,  and  we  were  always  getting  into 
scrapes.  Ironically,  my  parents'  favorite  caution  was,  'Judge  not,  lest 
ye  be  judged.' 

"As  I  grew  older,  I  knew  I  wanted  to  study  at  WPI  and  teach,"  he 
says.  After  graduating  with  his  B.S.  in  chemistry  from  the  Institute,  he 
taught  at  Boston  University,  where  he  received  his  M.A.  in  chemistry. 
He  then  taught  at  Stonehill  College  in  North  Easton,  Mass.,  where  he 
established  the  chemistry  department. 

"In  1952,  after  my  younger  brother,  Albert,  a  lawyer,  was  killed  in  a 
private  plane  crash,  I  decided  at  his  funeral  to  change  careers  and  go 
into  law,"  he  says.  "That  was  the  trigger  mechanism  that  caused  me  to 
go  to  law  school." 

After  receiving  his  law  degree  from  BU,  Hayeck  was  in  private 
practice  in  Worcester  from  1955  to  1970.  In  1970,  Francis  Sargent,  then 
the  governor  of  Massachusetts,  named  him  a  judge.  Over  the  years,  in 
addition  to  judging  and  teaching,  Hayeck  has  done  a  great  deal  of 
writing  on  the  law  of  evidence,  on  trusts  and  various  other  subjects. 


His  accomplishments  have  earned  him  several  honorary  graduate 
degrees  and  other  professional  honors. 

Hayeck  says  what  he  has  found  most  rewarding  about  his  career  is 
the  opportunity  to  serve  society.  "Service  itself  is  its  own  reward,"  he 
notes.  "The  beauty  of  the  U.S.  judicial  system  is  that  it  is  the  backbone 
of  our  free  society.  We  have  no  armies  to  back  up  court  decisions. 
People,  in  general,  respect  our  court  decisions  and  abide  by  them, 
which  is  not  always  the  case  in  other  countries." 

Currently,  he  says,  the  courts  are  on  the  verge  of  being  over- 
whelmed. But  it's  still  important  to  give  people  the  attention  they 
deserve.  "Too  many  judges  don't  exercise  as  much  latitude  in  resolv- 
ing cases  as  they  might,"  he  said  in  a  recent  interview  with  the  Massa- 
chusetts Lawyer's  Weekly.  He  says  he's  found  it  effective  to  help  litigants 

resolve  their  disputes  without  the 
need  for  a  full  adversarial  trial. 

A  judge,  he  says,  must  never 
become  an  advocate  for  either  side, 
but  he  or  she  can  make  a  meaningful 
contribution  to  the  resolution  of 
a  case  by  being  involved  in  an  im- 
partial way.  "I  think  a  judge,  if  he  has 
a  knack  for  it,  can  move  a  tremen- 
dous amount  of  work,"  he  said  in 
the  Lawyer's  Weekly  interview.  "It's 
much  easier  to  sit  there  with  your 
mouth  shut  and  try  to  look  learned. 
But  I  don't  think  we  can  afford  that 
attitude." 

Although  cognizant  of  the  many 
problems  facing  America  today,  both 
inside  and  outside  the  courtroom 
("It's  scary  everywhere"  he  says), 
Hayeck  admits  to  being  a  red,  white 
and  blue  patriot,  believing  in  the 
basic  strengths  and  ideals  of  our 
democratic  society. 

He  says  he  is  aghast  at  the  changes 
that  have  taken  place  since  he  first 
started  practice  in  the  1950s.  Back 
then  he  was  rarely,  if  ever,  concerned 
with  drug  or  drug-related  cases.  Today,  he  says,  his  calendar  is  over- 
flowing with  them. 

Hayeck  attributes  his  own  balanced  view  of  the  world  to  his  broad- 
based  education  and  to  his  wide-ranging  interests.  (They  include  scuba 
diving,  which  he  has  done  all  over  the  world,  fishing  for  marlin 
in  Hawaii  and  the  Caribbean,  and  catching  salmon  in  the  Pacific 
Northwest  and  Alaska.) 

He  says  he  strongly  advocates  that  prospective  lawyers  broaden 
their  own  horizons  by  taking  science  and  humanities  courses  along 
with  their  studies  in  law.  "I  have  many  engineer  friends  who  never 
read  anything  but  professional  literature,"  he  says.  "They  wouldn't 
dream  of  reading  a  poem  or  a  novel."  An  avid  reader,  Hayeck  says  he 
finds  this  sad. 

To  those  considering  law  careers,  Hayeck  has  another  piece  of 
advice:  "Be  fair  minded."  As  for  himself,  he  says,  "I  think  I've  been 
totally  and  irreversibly  ruined  for  the  art  of  advocacy,  because  as  a 
judge,  I  see  at  least  two  sides  to  every  question." 


mmm^m'ww^M 


yggBS&B&EBBSSSBKBk 


WPI  Journal 


39 


FINAL  WORD 


Bob  Sinicrope  Shows  Students  There's 
Joy  and  Fulfillment  in  "All  That  Jazz" 


T 

I  he  original  pied  piper  in  the  classic  children's  story  led 

I  youngsters  out  of  town  playing  pan  pipes.  Bob  Sinicrope  71, 
X  on  the  other  hand,  leads  his  kids  out  of  the  country  playing 
the  trombone  and  the  string  bass.  On  his  resume,  Sinicrope  is 
listed  as  a  mathematics  teacher  at  Milton  Academy,  a  well-known 
preparatory  school  in  Milton,  Mass.  While  he  says  he  enjoys  teach- 
ing math,  it  is  his  love  of  jazz,  which  he  also  teaches,  that  has  taken 
him  and  his  young  charges  around  the  world. 

Thanks  to  Sinicrope,  jazz  is  big-time  at  Milton.  The  school  offers 
full-credit  courses  in  the  subject  and  gives  students  the  opportu- 
nity to  learn  about  musical  self-expression  by  playing  in  the  Milton 
Jazz  Combo,  which  Sinicrope  directs.  No  run-of-the-mill  kids'  group, 
the  combo  has  performed  from  coast  to  coast,  opened  for  the  likes 
of  James  Taylor,  and  received  numerous  music  awards. 

"We  just  won  our  most  important  honor  ever,"  reports  a  beam- 
ing Sinicrope.  "Down  Beat  magazine  named  the  Milton  Jazz  Combo 
the  winner  in  the  North  American  high  school  small  group  cat- 
egory in  its  15th  Annual  Student  Music  Award  Competition." 

As  pleased  as  Sinicrope  and  his  combo  are  with  this  prestigious 
prize,  the  highlight  of  the  group's  career  to  date  was  a  February 
1992  tour  of  South  Africa,  where  they  performed  at  the  invitation 
of  Abdullah  Ibrahim,  one  of  the  world's  most  outstanding  jazz 
composers  and  pianists. 


That  remarkable  opportunity  followed  Ibrahim's  perfor- 
mance at  Milton  Academy  last  year  at  a  benefit  for  the  school's 
South  African  Scholarship  Fund.  Ibrahim  was  so  impressed 
with  Sinicrope's  combo  that  he  invited  the  students  to  appear 
at  concerts  in  his  native  land.  "I  want  the  spirit  of  the  Milton 
Jazz  Combo  shared  with  my  South  African  homeland,"  he  said, 
following  his  standing-room-only  concert  at  the  school. 

To  earn  enough  for  the  trip,  Sinicrope  and  his  group  under- 
took a  dizzying  concert  schedule — performing  anywhere  they 
were  asked.  Within  one  two-week  period  they  performed  three 
times  in  Boston:  at  the  Museum  of  Science,  in  Copley  Place  (an 
upscale  shopping  mall  in  the  downtown  area),  and  at  Aquinas 
Junior  College.  "We  had  to  raise  money  the  best  way  we  could," 
Sinicrope  says. 

In  addition  to  their  own  efforts,  the  combo  received  gener- 
ous support  from  families  and  friends  of  Milton  Academy.  Ulti- 
mately, their  financial  goals  were  met  and,  in  early  February, 
Sinicrope  and  the  combo,  accompanied  by  Sinicrope's  daugh- 
ter, Alicia,  and  two  other  academy  representatives,  arrived  in 
South  Africa. 

Highlights  of  the  trip  included  a  concert  for  the  mayor  of 
Johannesburg  in  City  Hall,  a  performance  at  a  local  boys' 
school,  a  special  performance  for  Dave  Brubeck's  son  Darius, 


Bob  Sinicrope  '71 
leads  the  Milton 
Academy  Jazz 
Combo,  named 
best  in  its  category 
in  a  Down  Beat 
magazine  student 
music  competition. 


40 


Fall  1992 


Sinicrope  chats  with  South  African  jazz  great  Abdullah  Ibrahim, 
who  invited  the  Milton  group  to  perform  in  his  country. 


a  jazz  musician  who  lives  in  Durban,  and  four  days  spent  studying 
and  performing  at  three  township  schools.  There  was  also  plenty 
of  time  for  getting  a  taste  of  local  culture  and  sightseeing,  with  the 
African  game  preserves  being  an  especially  popular  attraction. 

"We  all  agreed  that  the  trip  was  a  great  honor  and  a  privilege," 
says  Sinicrope.  "We  were  truly  touched  by  Ibrahim's  talent  and 
spirit.  The  trip  was  fantasy  come  to  life." 

A  story  in  the  Milton  Academy  newspaper  noted  that  Sinicrope, 
who  had  invited  Ibrahim  to  the  scholarship  benefit,  was  the  prime 
force  in  turning  the  dream  into  reality.  "It  is  impossible,"  noted  the 
young  reporter,  "not  to  see  that  Mr.  Sinicrope  has  worked  beyond 
belief.. ..the  trip  would  not  have  been  possible  without  him." 

So  successful  were  Sinicrope's  international  efforts  in  South 
Africa,  he  was  selected  to  spend  more  than  six  weeks  teaching 
math  and  English  last  summer  at  Milton  Academy's  sister  school 
in  Beijing,  China.  It  goes  without  saying  that  somewhere  along 
the  line  he  introduced  the  best  of  jazz  to  his  Chinese  students. 

Sinicrope  has  been  teaching  courses  in  math  and  jazz  improvi- 
sation at  Milton  Academy  for  19  years;  in  fact,  he  founded  the 
school's  highly  acclaimed  jazz  program.  He  has  been  a  staff 
member  at  Jamey  Aebersold's  summer  jazz  camps  in  Chicago  and 
Louisville  for  12  years  (Aebersold  is  the  world's  best-known  jazz 
educator)  and  he  has  directed  jazz  combos  at  the  John  Payne 
Music  Center  in  Brookline,  Mass.,  for  13  years. 

In  addition,  he  has  conducted  jazz  clinics  in  Australia,  China, 
Jamaica,  South  Africa  and  Thailand,  as  well  as  in  California,  Florida 
and  the  greater  Boston  area.  Sinicrope,  who  formerly  played  the 
trombone  in  the  WPI  Brass  Choir,  now  plays  string  bass  exclusively 
in  his  professional  gigs.  He  has  played  with  jazz  greats  Billy  Eck- 
stine,  Ernestine  Anderson,  Bob  Wilber,  Tiny  Grimes,  Vic  Dickenson, 
Jo  Jones  and  Warren  Vache.  In  1987  he  was  featured  at  the  Worces- 
ter Jazz  Festival  with  guitarist  Gary  Sargent.  More  recently,  he 
accompanied  Shirley  Bassey  at  Symphony  Hall  in  Boston. 

Sinicrope  used  to  perform  with  his  good  friend,  Richard  Falco, 
who  is  director  of  jazz  studies  at  the  Institute.  Today  he  is  the  bass- 
ist in  Dick  Johnson's  Swing  Shift,  one  of  the  outstanding  jazz 
groups  in  the  Northeast.  He  also  plays  regularly  with  the  John 
Payne  Sax  Choir,  which  back  on  Sept.  25  performed  with  guest 
soloist  and  then-presidential  candidate  Bill  Clinton. 

He  says  playing  off  campus  helps  him  immeasurably  in  the 
classroom  and  on  the  podium.  "Teaching  and  performing  are  art 


When  he  is  not  teaching,  Sinicrope  performs  professionally 
on  the  string  bass  and  conducts  jazz  clinics  around  the  world. 


forms,"  he  says.  "The  more  you  do  of  one,  the  sharper  your  skills 
become  in  the  other. 

"I've  been  a  professional  musician  for  30  years.  In  fact,  playing 
music  helped  pay  my  way  through  WPI,"  Sinicrope  says,  explaining 
another  important  benefit  of  performing.  But  more  important  to 
him,  he  says,  is  the  self-expression  he  finds  in  performing  and  the 
fulfillment  he  finds  in  helping  others  discover  jazz. 

"I  feel  fortunate  to  have  had  the  opportunity  I've  had  to  reach 
others  through  my  teaching  and  playing.  I've  had  many  remarkable 
experiences  in  what  I  do  and  I  am  continually  learning  and  growing." 

— Ruth  Trask 


■ 


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The  Humanitie 
and  Arts  at  WPI 


The  Art 
Endowme 


anagement 


WPI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCVI  NO.  1     WINTER  1993 


4 


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CONTENTS 


Enriching  Life.. .And  Making  a  Living 


Bonnie  Gelbwasser 
and  Michael  Dorsey 


Two  decades  ago,  WPI  invented  a  radical  new  way  of  incorporating  the  humanities 
into  a  technical  education.  Today,  with  a  range  of  innovative  humanities  programs, 
the  Institute  is  still  preparing  students  for  rewarding  careers... and  lives. 


Alden  Reborn  Michael  Dorsey 

It's  been  called  the  jewel  of  the  WPI  campus  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  aca- 
demic buildings  in  the  Northeast.  After  a  thorough  restoration,  Alden  Memorial 
has  emerged  as  an  elegant  and  functional  home  for  the  performing  arts. 


Restoring  a  Legend  Ruth  Trask 

Tony  Leketa  '69  is  no  stranger  to  huge  construction  projects.  Now,  as  program 
manager  for  the  $1.4  billion  Pentagon  Renovation  Program,  he's  overseeing  one 
of  the  biggest  projects  ever  undertaken  by  the  U.S.  Army  Corps  of  Engineers. 


Investing  the  Future  Diane  Benison 

Far  more  than  a  huge  savings  account,  WPI's  $118  million  endowment  is  a  vehicle 
for  ensuring  the  Institute's  future  vitality  and  success.  Here's  how  the  college  is 
working  to  better  protect  this  vital  asset  and  foster  its  growth. 


DEPARTMENTS 

L     Advance  Word:  Celebrating  Alden..The  Man  and  the  Building. 
35     Input:  Cold,  Hard  Facts  About  the  Endowment.   Donald  F.  Berth  '57 
00     Final  Word:  The  Rewards  of  Town  Management.   Ruth  Trask 


Front  Coven  Music  professor  David  P.  McKay,  who  will  retire  this  year  after  a  37-year  career  at  WPI. 
lectures  students  in  the  new  music  classroom  in  the  fully  restored  Alden  Memorial.  Story  on  page  14. 
Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock.  Opposite:  The  Pentagon  is  also  benefiting  from  a  complete  renovation, 
under  the  direction  of  Anthony  F.  Leketa  '69.  Story  on  page  22.  Photo  courtesy  of  the  U.S.  Army  Corps 
of  Engineers.  Back  Cover  In  the  shadow  of  the  Washburn  Shops,  students  trudge  through  the 
aftermath  of  a  record-setting  snowfall  last  December.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Carol  Hoyle  Ballard 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Geary  '71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82 

•  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  •  William  R.  Grogan  '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams  '50  •  The  WPIJoumal  OSSN  0148-6128) 
is  published  quarterly  for  the  WPI  Alumni  Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second  class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  MA,  and  additional  mailing  offices. 
Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt.  Printed  in  the  U.S.A. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence 
to  the  Editor,  WPIJoumal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  mail  (Internet):  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu. 
Postmaster:  If  undeliverable.  please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  ®/993,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


ADVANCE  WORD 


Celebrating  Alden... 

The  Man  and 
The  Building 


P 

I  eorge  I.  Alden  was  just  25  when 

1     1  he  joined  WPI's  original  faculty 
^^^  in  1868.  He  would  go  on  to  be- 
come one  of  the  college's  most  re- 
nowned educators,  a  man  whose  vision 
not  only  inspired  a  generation  of  stu- 
dents, but  helped  change  the  face  of 
engineering  education. 

Had  his  achievements  ended  there,  his 
story  would  have  been  remarkable.  But 
Alden,  a  talented  entrepreneur,  also  helped 
found  Norton  Co.,  one  of  Worcester's  most 
important  corporations.  His  success  in  in- 
dustry made  him  a  wealthy  man,  and  he 
shared  his  good  fortune  liberally  with  the 
college  where  his  career  began.  His  gener- 
osity continues  today  through  the  George 
I.  Alden  Trust.  Over  the  years,  his  gifts  to 
WPI  and  those  of  his  trust  have  totaled 
$8.6  million,  making  him  the  Institute's 
most  generous  benefactor. 

Alden  was  born  in  1843  in  Templeton, 
Mass.,  where  WPI's  founder,  John  Boynton, 
made  his  fortune  in  tinware  manufacturing. 


His  mother,  Priscilla  Alden,  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  Silas  and  Mary  Alden  of  Templeton; 
Silas  was  a  direct  descendent  of  John  Alden 
and  Priscilla  Mullins,  passengers  on  the 
Mayflower,  making  George  Alden  an  eighth- 
generation  descendent  of  a  Mayflower  family. 

Like  many  youngsters  of  the  time,  he 
was  forced  to  work  several  years  to  raise 
the  funds  to  enter  college.  He  graduated 
summa  cum  laude  from  Harvard  Univer- 
sity's Lawrence  Scientific  School  in  1868 
and  joined  WPI  shortly  thereafter.  In  addi- 
tion to  his  mechanical  engineering  profes- 
sorship, Alden  was  named  WPI's  dean  of 
the  college  in  1894  and  twice  served  the 
Institute  as  acting  president. 

In  his  Seventy  Years  of  the  Worcester 
Polytechnic  Institute,  Herbert  Taylor  de- 
scribed George  Alden  as  "...a  painstaking 
and  thorough  teacher,  though  sometimes 
given  to  sarcasm,  who  gave  his  students 
a  grounding  in  theoretical  and  applied 
mechanics  such  as  few  of  his  generation 
could  impart." 


Editor's  Note:  On  April  22,  WPI  will  note 
the  150th  anniversary  of  the  birth  of 
George  I.  Alden,  the  Institute's  first  pro- 
fessor of  mechanical  engineering.  On 
that  day,  it  will  rededicate  Alden  Memo- 
rial, the  building  given  to  WPI  in  1940  by 
the  George  I.  Alden  Trust. 

Alden  Memorial  recently  underwent 
a  major,  $2.8  million  renovation;  beginning 
on  page  14  you'll  find  a  photo  essay  on  its 
rebirth  as  a  performing  arts  center.  Starting 
on  page  4,  you'll  also  find  extensive  cover- 
age of  the  Institute's  innovative  educational 


programs  in  the  humanities  and  the  arts. 
But  before  we  get  to  the  present  and 
future  of  Alden  Memorial,  here's  a  look 
at  how  one  of  WPI's  most  beautiful  build- 
ings came  to  be,  and,  more  important,  a 
look  at  the  extraordinary  man  it  honors. 
This  article  was  adapted  from  material 
on  George  Alden's  life  written  by  Donald 
F.  Berth  '57,  vice  president  for  university 
relations,  and  from  an  essay  on  the  his- 
tory of  Alden  Memorial  written  by  Anne 
B.  Littlefield,  director  of  major  gifts  and 
planned  giving. 


After  28  years  at  WPI,  Alden,  along  with 
Milton  Prince  Higgins,  the  original  superin- 
tendent of  the  Washburn  Shops,  resigned 
from  the  faculty  as  a  result  of  a  dispute 
with  the  Institute's  third  president,  Tho- 
mas C.  Mendenhall,  over  the  shops'  opera- 
tion. In  time  the  action  would  prove  a 
blessing  in  disguise  for  WPI,  as  Alden  put 
more  of  his  energies  into  the  development 
of  Norton  Co.,  ultimately  becoming  its 
chairman  and  a  wealthy  man. 

He  became  a  WPI  trustee  in  March  1912 
and  served  in  that  capacity  until  his  death 
in  1926.  The  Institute  honored  Alden,  who 
was  for  a  time  vice  president  of  the  Ameri- 
can Society  of  Mechanical  Engineers,  by 
naming  its  hydraulics  laboratory  in  Holden 
(to  which  he  had  been  a  significant  con- 
tributor— both  intellectually  and  materi- 
ally) for  him,  and  by  awarding  him  an 
honorary  doctorate  in  1926. 

When  Alden  began  his  WPI  career  in 
1868,  engineering  was  still  very  much  an 
art.  The  few  schools  that  offered  instruc- 
tion in  engineering  were  groping  for  an 
educational  model  that  in  some  manner 
blended  instruction  with  practice.  WPI's 
model,  combining  classroom  time  with 
instruction  in  a  working  shops,  helped 
create  what  became  known  as  the  "shop 
culture,"  which  would  serve  as  a  curricular 
model  for  several  institutions — including 
Georgia  Institute  of  Technology — from 
about  1870  to  1900. 

As  the  field  of  mechanical  engineering 
evolved,  the  "shop"  model  gave  way  to  the 
"school"  model,  in  which  the  element  of 
practice  was  relocated  from  the  shop  to 
the  laboratory.  It  was  this  philosophical 


Winter  1993 


change  that  produced  the  rift 
between  Alden  and  Mendenhall. 

Fourteen  years  before  his 
death,  Alden  established  the 
George  I.  Alden  Trust.  He  speci- 
fied that  the  trust's  funds  be  used 
to  promote  education,  particu- 
larly technical  and  professional 
education.  Alden's  daughter, 
Clara,  who  was  educated  at 
Wellesley  College  and  held  a 
doctorate  from  the  University 
of  Colorado,  became  an  Alden 
trustee  upon  her  father's  death 
and  helped  administer  the  fund 
until  her  own  death  in  1945. 

WPI  has  been  the  greatest 
beneficiary  of  the  Alden  Trust's 
generosity.  The  trust  funded  a  new 
building  at  Alden  Research  Labora- 
tories, created  the  George  I.  Alden 
Chair  in  Engineering  and,  most  re- 
cently, supported  the  construction 
of  the  George  F.  Fuller  Laboratories, 
among  many  other  projects. 

But  perhaps  its  greatest  gift 
to  WPI  was  Alden  Memorial.  The 
idea  for  the  building  originated 
with  WPI  President  Ralph  Earle, 
who  included  an  auditorium  in  his  ambi- 
tious $1  million  campus  expansion  plan. 
The  trustees  approved  the  idea  in  1929  and 
J.  Cornell  Appleton  of  the  prominent  Boston 
architects  Appleton  &  Stearns,  designers  of 
Sanford  Riley  Hall  (and,  later,  Higgins  Labo- 
ratories), was  chosen  to  design  the  build- 
ing. The  Depression  put  the  plans  on  hold, 
but  they  were  revived  in  1937  when  Earle 
asked  Appleton  to  update  the  plans. 

Appleton  endowed  the  building  with 
touches  of  beauty  and  elegance.  This  is 
especially  true  in  the  great  hall,  with  its  oak 
paneling,  iron  chandeliers  and  eight  massive 
ceiling  beams.  At  either  end  of  the  beams  are 
stone  figures,  each  a  woman  with  a  shield 


representing  religion,  science,  music,  archi- 
tecture, knowledge,  the  arts,  sculpture  or 
drama.  They  were  carved  by  Thomas  Miln 
of  Berlin,  Mass.,  whose  work  can  also  be 
seen  on  the  U.S.  Treasury  and  National 
Archives  buildings  in  Washington,  D.C.  The 
windows  in  the  great  hall  and  two  in  the 
tower  are  fitted  with  stained-glass  medallions. 
The  creation  of  Wilbur  H.  Burnham,  who 
also  worked  on  the  National  Cathedral  in 
Washington,  the  medallions  tell  the  story 
of  American  history. 

In  addition  to  the  great  hall,  the  building 
was  to  house  a  central  library  with  room  for 
50  percent  more  books  than  the  original 
facility  in  Boynton  Hall.  There  was  also  to 
be  a  room  that  the 
Institute's  new 
president,  Wat 
Tyler  Cluverius, 
said  would  be  used 
"for  cocktail  par- 
ties, tea  parties, 
and  other  social 
gatherings."  Cluv- 
erius initially  intend- 
ed that  the  room  be 
named  for  Clara 
Alden,  but  when  she 
declined,  it  was 
named  instead  for 


Alden  Memorial,  seen  under 
construction  in  1939  in  the 
photo  below,  provided  WPI 
and  the  Alden  Trust  an 
opportunity  to  honor  the 
memory  of  George  I.  Alden, 
opposite.  Until  1967,  Alden 
housed  the  Institute's  cen- 
tral campus  library>  left. 

President  Earle's  widow,  Janet. 

The  search  for  funding  for  the 
building  ended  successfully  with 
the  George  I.  Alden  Trust.  The 
trustees  of  the  fund  had  already 
developed  the  idea  of  erecting  a 
memorial  to  Alden,  and  the  new 
hall  at  WPI  seemed  to  fit  the  bill. 
In  late  1938,  the  trust  informed 
WPI  it  would  fund  the  entire  pro- 
ject, and  the  college  responded 
by  naming  the  building  for  Alden. 

Earle  died  shortly  thereafter, 
but  work  on  Alden  Memorial  con- 
tinued. R.L.  Whipple  Co.  in  Worces- 
ter won  the  bid  to  construct  the 
building,  and  on  June  26, 1939, 
excavation  began  for  the  founda- 
tion. (The  Class  of  1942,  which 
recently  provided  funds  for  a  new 
plaza  adjacent  to  Alden,  beat  the  contractor 
to  it  by  four  days  with  its  own  informal 
groundbreaking  ceremony.) 

A  75-man  crew  worked  150  days  straight 
with  no  time  lost  due  to  inclement  weather, 
finishing  the  roof  before  winter  descended. 
Work  continued  through  the  coldest  months 
and  the  building  was  ready  in  time  for  the 
1940  Commencement,  thus  beginning  its 
history  as  the  heart  of  campus  activity. 

From  1940  until  the  late  1960s,  the  great 
hall  hosted  virtually  all  important  college 
events,  including  honor  society  pledgings, 
academic  awards  ceremonies,  concerts, 
dances,  lectures  and  plays.  A  general  as- 
sembly of  the  entire  college  community 
was  held  there  weekly,  providing  a  forum 
for  the  discussion  of  important  issues  of 
the  day.  The  Vietnam  War  was  hotly  de- 
bated there  in  the  1960s. 

With  the  start  of  the  WPI  Plan  in  the 
early  1970s  and  the  concurrent  growth  of 
the  campus  population,  assemblies  became 
a  thing  of  the  past.  The  completion  of  Gor- 
don Library  in  1967  and  Harrington  Audito- 
rium in  1968  freed  up  room  in  Alden  for  new 
uses,  and  the  building  became  a  home  for  the 
Institute's  active  music  and  drama  programs. 
With  its  recent  renovation,  Alden  Memorial  is 
even  better  suited  for  this  role,  one  destined 
to  keep  it  at  the  center  of  campus  life. 


WPI  Journal 


Enriching  Life... 
And  Making  a  Living 

The  framers  of  the  WPI  Plan  knew  that  the  humanities  must  be  given  far  more 

THAN  A  TOKEN  ROLE  IN  THE  EDUCATION  OF  SCIENTISTS  AND  ENGINEERS.  WHAT  THEY  CAME 
UP  WITH  MORE  THAN  TWO  DECADES  AGO  TRANSFORMED  HUMANITIES  EDUCATION  AT  WPI 
AND  SET  AN  EXAMPLE  FOR  OTHER  ENGINEERING  EDUCATORS  TO  EMULATE. 


BY  BONNIE  GELBWASSER 
AND  MICHAEL  DORSEY 


ore  than  125 
years  ago,  when 
John  Boynton 
laid  down  the 
Institute's  philo- 
sophical foundation,  he  wrote,  "The  aim  of 
this  school  shall  ever  be  the  instruction  of 
youth  in  those  branches  of  education  not 
usually  taught  in  public  schools,  which  are 
essential,  and  best  adapted  to  train  the 
young  for  practical  life." 

Like  Boynton,  Ichabod  Washburn,  whose 
gift  of  the  Washburn  Shops  helped  frame 
WPI's  "Two  Towers"  approach  to  education, 
insisted  that  the  new  school  not  be  confined 
to  the  "theories  of  science,  but  as  far  as  pos- 
sible to  the  practical  application  of  its  prin- 
ciples which  will  give  the  greatest  possible 
advantages  in  the  affairs  of  life."  Such  a  bal- 
anced curriculum,  Washburn  noted,  would 
"add  to  their  personal  independence  and 
happiness,  while  it  renders  them  better  and 
more  useful  citizens." 

But  in  1868,  as  the  college  began  life  as 
the  Worcester  County  Free  Institute  of  Indus- 
trial Science,  it  was  clear  that  the  balance  of 
the  theoretical  and  the  practical  that  Boyn- 
ton and  Washburn  embraced  would  not,  to  any 
appreciable  degree,  include  the  humanities 
and  the  arts.  In  fact,  for  most  of  the  Institute's 
early  years,  instruction  in  the  humanities 
was  limited  to  a  smattering  of  classroom 
hours  taught  by  part-time  instructors. 

The  picture  brightened  in  1872  when  the 


Department  of  English  and  Modern  Lan- 
guages was  created,  funded  by  a  gift  from 
board  president  Stephen  Salisbury  II.  The 
new  department  offered  students  instruc- 
tion in  English  composition  and  French. 
Some  32  years  later,  the  Class  of  1879  Prize, 
which  now  honors  outstanding  projects  in 
the  humanities,  was  established  to  recog- 
nize the  best  essays  written  in  composition 
class  each  year. 

For  the  most  part,  that  is  how  humani- 
ties instruction  at  WPI  would  remain  for  de- 
cades. An  optional  course  in  the  history  of 
civilization  and  science  was  launched  in 
1934,  literature  courses  were  added  to  the 
standard  offerings  in  English  composition  in 
the  1940s  and,  in  1959,  following  a  two-year 
study  of  the  Institute's  academic  programs, 
an  effort  was  made  to  broaden  still  further 
the  humanities  curriculum. 

Then  came  the  1960s.  On  campuses 
across  the  nation  it  would  be  a  decade  of 
change  and  growing  social  awareness,  as 
colleges  searched  for  ways  to  better  prepare 
students  to  understand  their  role  in — and 
responsibilities  to — society.  At  WPI,  that 
search  brought  on  a  period  of  curricular  ex- 
perimentation. One  notable  experiment  was 
an  interdisciplinary  program,  begun  in  1964, 
that  allowed  students  to  earn  a  bachelor  of 
science  degree  in  either  humanities  and 
technology  or  humanities  and  science.  But 
for  the  humanities,  the  real  shake-up  was 
yet  to  come. 


The  1960s  culminated  in  the  WPI  Plan,  an 
initiative  that  would  catapult  the  Institute  to 
the  forefront  of  engineering  education  re- 
form. In  drafting  the  Plan,  the  faculty  and  ad- 
ministration carefully  evaluated  what 
worked  and  what  didn't  in  a  WPI  education 
as  it  then  existed.  They  set  as  their  funda- 
mental purpose  "to  impart  to  students  an 
understanding  of  a  sector  of  science  and 
technology  and  a  mature  understanding 
of  themselves  and  the  needs  of  the  people 
around  them."  They  envisioned  "a  WPI  edu- 
cation that  should  develop  in  students  a 
strong  degree  of  self-confidence,  an  aware- 
ness of  the  community  beyond  themselves, 
and  an  intellectual  restlessness  that  spurs 
them  to  continued  learning." 

One  of  the  major  issues  facing  the  Plan's 
framers  was  how  great  a  role  the  humanities 
should  play  in  a  technical  education.  "We  de- 
cided that  a  strong  humanities  component, 
coupled  with  the  superb  technological  edu- 
cation our  students  receive,  would  make  our 
graduates  among  the  best  prepared  of  any 
university  to  succeed  in  whatever  careers 
they  chose,"  says  William  R.  Grogan,  dean 
emeritus  of  undergraduate  studies  and  a  mem- 
ber of  the  committee  that  created  the  Plan. 

To  meet  that  objective,  the  committee 
crafted  the  Humanities  Sufficiency  program, 
a  radical  new  way  of  introducing  students  of 
engineering  and  science  to  scholarship  in 
nontechnical  disciplines  (see  page  9).  The 
Sufficiency  became  one  of  the  four  pillars  of 


Winter  1993 


the  Plan  (since  then,  one  of  those  four  origi- 
nal degree  requirements — the  Competency 
Exam— has  been  replaced  by  distribution 
requirements). 

But  the  Plan  was  merely  a  blueprint. 
To  bring  it  to  life,  some  quite  fundamental 
changes  had  to  take  place  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  Institute  and  in  the  way  it  carried 
out  its  mission.  Few  academic  disciplines  at 
WP1  have  experienced  that  wave  of  change 
so  completely — or  have  been  so  completely 
transformed  by  it — as  the  humanities. 

#1  major  step  along  the  road  of  change 
LX  was  taken  in  the  mid-1970s  with  the 
I    I  creation  of  the  Humanities  Depart- 
ment. Until  then,  courses  in  art,  English, 
French,  German,  history,  music  and  philoso- 
phy were  taught  by  the  Department  of  En- 
glish and  History  and  the  Department  of 
Foreign  Languages.  The  Humanities  Depart- 
ment united  these  disciplines  under  one  um- 
brella and  also  provided  a  new  home  for  the 
decade-old  humanities  major  program. 

Since  its  inception,  the  department  has 
received  a  number  of  program  development 
grants  from  both  public  and  private  agen- 
cies. In  particular,  grants  from  the  National 
Endowment  for  the  Humanities,  the  Rocke- 
feller Foundation  and  the  Andrew  W.  Mellon 
Foundation  have  proved  instrumental  in 
developing  and  maintaining  a  broad  and 
diverse  humanities  curriculum  and  in  estab- 
lishing programs  and  standards  for  student 
work  in  interdisciplinary  areas. 

Individual  disciplines  within  the  depart- 
ment have  also  benefited  from  outside  sup- 
port. For  example,  in  1991  the  Fred  Harris 
Daniels  Foundation  earmarked  a  two-year, 
$50,000  grant  to  enrich  the  department's  art 
history  and  architecture,  foreign  language, 
and  music  programs.  The  grant  has  already 
been  used  to  establish  an  electronic  music 
laboratory  in  Alden  Memorial  (see  story, 
page  14)  and  to  enlarge  the  department's 
slide  collection  in  art  history  and  architec- 
ture. The  remainder  of  the  grant  is  being 
used  to  create  a  modern  language  labora- 
tory, to  be  housed  in  Gordon  Library. 

Under  the  direction  of  history  professor 
JoAnn  Manfra,  who  has  served  as  chair 
since  1983,  the  Humanities  Department  has 
become  one  of  WPl's  largest  (second  only  to 
Electrical  and  Computer  Engineering).  The 
highly  accomplished  humanities  faculty  in- 
cludes 25  tenured  and  tenure-track  profes- 
sors who  teach  nearly  120  courses  in  art 
history  and  architecture,  English  (including 
literature,  communications  and  drama/the- 
atre), history,  languages,  music,  and  phi- 
losophy and  religion. 

Recognized  for  their  scholarly  accom- 
plishments in  a  wide  variety  of  fields,  the 


WPl's  distinguished  Humanities  Department,  the  Institute's  second 
largest,  plays  a  critical  role  in  fulfilling  the  goals  of  two  of  WPl's  three 
undergraduate  degree  requirements,  notes  JoAnn  Manfra,  who  has 
served  as  department  chair  for  the  last  decade. 


humanities  faculty  in  1992  published  six 
books  and  24  scholarly  articles,  presented 
52  papers  at  professional  meetings,  pro- 
duced 10  creative  works,  and  received  sev- 
eral research  fellowships  and  grants.  Three 
faculty  members— David  P.  McKay,  profes- 
sor of  music,  Thomas  A.  Shannon,  who 
holds  the  Paris  Fletcher  Distinguished  Pro- 
fessorship in  the  Humanities,  and  Michael 
M.  Sokal,  professor  of  history  and  former  ex- 
ecutive secretary  of  the  History  of  Science 
Society — are  among  the  recipients  of  WPl's 
Board  of  Trustees'  Award  for  Outstanding 
Creative  Scholarship. 

The  size  of  the  faculty  and  the  large  num- 
ber of  humanities  courses  reflect  the  impor- 
tant role  played  by  the  department  in 
meeting  the  goals  of  the  WPI  Plan.  In  par- 
ticular, the  Humanities  Sufficiency  places  a 
significant  demand  on  the  department's  re- 
sources. Under  the  Plan,  every  undergradu- 
ate (there  are  now  some  2,700  enrolled) 


must  complete  a  Sufficiency,  and  every 
Sufficiency  is  advised  by  a  humanities 
faculty  member. 

In  addition  to  advising  Sufficiency 
projects,  the  humanities  faculty  also  plays 
an  important  role  in  the  Interactive  Qualify- 
ing Project,  another  undergraduate  degree 
requirement.  This  exercise  requires  stu- 
dents to  explore  some  aspect  of  the  rela- 
tionships between  science,  technology  and 
society.  The  projects  themselves  often  in- 
volve real-life  issues  that  may  confront  stu- 
dents in  their  future  careers  or  personal  and 
civic  lives  as  adults. 

"By  its  very  nature,  the  interactive 
component  of  the  IQP  is  flexible  enough 
to  afford  all  humanities  faculty — whatever 
their  areas  of  expertise  or  interest — an  op- 
portunity to  advise  these  student  projects," 
Manfra  says.  "In  fact,  the  faculty  has  worked 
with  a  wide  variety  of  programs  and  institu- 
tions to  develop  IQP  topics  and  programs." 


WPI  Journal 


Bottom,  David  B.  Dollenmayer,  associate  professor  of  German,  is  using  part  of  a  grant  from  the  Daniels 
Foundation  to  develop  a  new  language  laboratory-  Above,  W.A.  Bland  Addison  Jr.  (standing),  associate 
professor  of  history  and  advisor  to  humanities  majors  and  double  majors,  meets  with,  from  left,  double 
major  Bryant  O'Hara  '92,  humanities  major  William  L.  Schongar  '94  and  double  major  Ian  K.  Cote  '95. 


Many  humanities  faculty  members  have 
advised  IQPs  at  the  Institute's  residential 
project  centers  in  Washington,  D.C.,  Lon- 
don and  Venice,  Manfra  says.  Others  have 
worked  with  1QP  teams  closer  to  home 
through  the  Living  Museums  Program. 
Among  the  institutions  that  have  partici- 
pated in  that  program  are  Old  Sturbridge 
Village,  the  Higgins  Armory  Museum  and 
Mechanics  Hall.  "In  one  way  or  another," 
Manfra  adds,  "all  of  our  faculty  members 
have  contributed  to  the  intellectual  con- 
tent of  this  unique  degree  requirement." 

The  important  ties  between  the  liberal 
arts,  engineering  and  the  sciences, 
which  have  become  evident  through  the 
IQP,  also  form  the  intellectual  foundation  for 
the  humanities  major  and  double  major, 
Manfra  says.  Five  students  are  currently 
enrolled  as  humanities  majors  at  WPI.  They 
specialize  in  one  liberal  arts  discipline — 
literature,  history,  or  philosophy  and  reli- 
gion— and  they  complete  their  Major  Quali- 
fying Project  in  that  discipline.  Recent 
examples  of  humanities  MQPs  include  a 
modern  version  of  the  legend  of  Faust,  writ- 
ten by  Kelli  Sue  Clark  '92,  who  specialized  in 
literature,  and  an  examination  of  the  politi- 
cal implications  of  Buddhism  by  Glenn  W. 
Flaherty  '91,  whose  specialty  was  philoso- 
phy and  religion. 


To  broaden  the  context  of  their  chosen 
specialty,  humanities  majors  also  take  a 
cluster  of  courses  in  a  related  area  of  the 
liberal  arts.  And  like  all  WPI  undergraduates, 
they  complete  an  IQP  and  a  Sufficiency  pro- 
ject, the  latter  in  one  of  the  engineering  or 
science  disciplines  or  in  management. 

A  growing  number  of  students — 15  at 
present — are  pursuing  double  majors, 
which  allows  them  to  combine  their  abilities 
and  interests  in  engineering,  science  or  man- 
agement with  a  carefully  planned  program 
in  the  humanities.  Double  majors  must  sat- 
isfy the  degree  requirements  of  both 
major  programs,  including  the 
completion  of  two  MQPs. 

"Individual  and  societal  concerns 
are  likely  to  result  in  increasing  de- 
mands for  specialists  equipped  with 
the  type  of  background  possessed  by 
a  WPI  major  or  double  major,"  Manfra 
says.  "Many  fields,  including  medi- 
cine, law,  industry,  commerce  and 
public  service,  will  be  open  to  those 
who  have  acquired  both  the  tradi- 
tional skills  of  humanistic  education 
and  technical  knowledge." 

While  not  every  WPI  student 
graduates  with  such  a  diverse  combi- 
nation of  talents  and  interests,  each 
will  have  the  opportunity  to  gain  a 
rich  perspective  on  the  world  and 
his  or  her  role  in  it,  much  as  the 


Institute's  founders  had  hoped  they  would, 
thanks  to  the  dramatic  changes  humanities 
instruction  has  undergone  at  WPI  over  the 
past  two  decades. 

Notes  W.A.  Bland  Addison  Jr.,  associate 
professor  of  history  and  advisor  to  the 
humanities  majors  and  double  majors,  "At 
WPI,  students  can  develop  analytical  think- 
ing, writing  and  expressive  skills — and 
obtain  the  professional,  scientific  and  tech- 
nical training  to  enable  them  to  find  jobs — 
at  an  institution  celebrated  for  its  engineer- 
ing and  scientific  accomplishments." 


Winter  1993 


A  Delicate  Balance 


I  n  a  world  where  engineers 
I  must  understand  humanistic 
|  issues  and  nonengineers  must 
m  be  technologically  literate, 
|  how  well  does  a  major  or 
double  major  in  the  humanities  prepare  WPI 
students  for  future  careers?  Let  these  gradu- 
ates and  current  students  tell  the  story. 
Their  successes  are  testimony  to  the  value 
of  the  humanities  in  engineering  education. 

Testimony  is  something  Judge  Paul  A. 
Fritzsche  72  knows  all  about.  After  receiv- 
ing his  bachelor's  degree  from  WPI  in  hu- 
manities/technology (with  an  emphasis  on 
history),  Fritzsche  graduated  from  the  Uni- 
versity of  Maine  School  of  Law,  then  worked 
as  a  legal  assistance  attorney.  He  has  been  a 
Superior  Court  judge  in  Maine  since  1986. 

"My  unusual  undergraduate  education 
proved  particularly  helpful  during  my  five 
years  as  a  public  advocate,  when  I  repre- 
sented consumers  in  public  utility  regula- 
tory proceedings,"  Fritzsche  says.  "The 
mathematics  and  science  courses  1  took  pro- 
vided a  good  background  for  the  engineer- 
ing, technical  and  economic  issues  I  dealt 
with.  My  humanities  courses  helped  me  bet- 
ter explain  the  issues  and  the  policy  choices 
to  the  press  and  to  the  legislature." 

The  dual  grounding  in  humanities  and 
science  he  received  at  WPI  continues  to 
serve  him  well,  Fritzsche  says.  "As  a  judge,  I 
deal  with  a  wide  range  of  issues — often  in- 
volving science  and  technology — such  as 
product  liability,  medical  malpractice,  blood 
testing,  and  electronic  monitoring  of  prison- 
ers. These  and  other  issues  pertaining  to 
public  policy  and  economic  regulation  con- 
firm that  my  WPI  education  prepared  me 
well  for  my  career." 

"Science  and  math  without  humanities 
only  produces  an  empty  technician,"  says 
Dr.  Nancy  Berube  75,  assistant  professor 
of  medicine  in  the  University  of  Massachu- 
setts Medical  Center's  Department  of  Family 
Practice.  "Rather  than  being  mutually  exclu- 
sive, the  sciences  and  the  humanities  feed 


and  nourish  one  another.  I  think  it's  impor- 
tant to  have  a  balance." 

As  an  undergraduate,  Berube,  who 
received  her  bachelor's  degree  with  distinc- 
tion in  humanities  in  1981,  was  active  in  the- 
ater at  WPI,  and  worked  at  Old  Sturbridge 
Village,  where  she  did  historical  interpreta- 
tion and  acted  in  OSV's  drama  program.  She 
drew  on  her  experience  at  the  village  for  her 
Major  Qualifying  Project,  a  dramatic  inter- 
pretation of  the  diary  of  a  19th  century 
shoemaker. 

"I  had  always  intended  to  go  to  medical 
school,"  says  Berube,  who  earned  her  M.D. 
at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical 
Center  and  now  works  at  an  inner-city  fam- 
ily health  center  run  by  the  university.  "I'm 
a  big  supporter  of  nonscience  majors  going 
into  medicine.  In  order  to  be  a  good  physi- 
cian you  have  to  be  able  to  listen  to  people — 
to  have  them  tell  you  what  they  feel  is  wrong. 

"I  think  of  science  as  being  able  to  ob- 
serve something  and  express  it  in  your  own 
terms,"  she  adds.  "The  humanities  teaches 
you  a  different  way  of  doing  that.  Studying 
at  a  school  of  science  and  technology  gives 
you  a  unique  perspective  on  the  humanities 
because  it  implies  you  are  expected  to  be- 
come proficient  in  some  aspect  of  the  sci- 
ences; it  gives  students  a  more  balanced 
approach  to  the  humanities." 

After  earning  his  degree  in 'humanities/ 
technology  with  distinction  in  1975,  Steven 
W.  Harvey  worked  as  a  district  manager  for 
a  small  record  company  and  participated  in 
a  demonstration  project  that  applied  an 
HMO  model  to  providing  care  for  families 
covered  by  Medicaid.  In  1981  he  enrolled  at 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania's  Wharton 
School,  continuing  his  interest  in  the  public 
sector  by  working  for  Philadelphia's  finance 
director.  After  receiving  his  M.B.A.  in  1983, 
he  worked  briefly  for  Standard  and  Poors 
rating  municipal  bonds.  Today  he  is  senior 
analyst  for  all  of  Fidelity  Investments'  mu- 
nicipal bond  funds,  with  nearly  $13  billion 
under  management. 


Paul  A.  Fritzsche  '72  says  his  WPI 
humanities  degree  helped  prepare 
him  for  a  career  as  a  judge. 


"I  continue  to  find  my  WPI  background 
invaluable  in  my  day-to-day  activities,"  he 
says.  "My  work  demands  a  pretty  good 
grasp  of  engineering  matters  as  it  deals 
most  often  with  the  financing  of  large  public 
construction  projects.  I  believe,  however, 
that  the  key  to  a  municipal  bond's  credit 
quality — and  to  its  value  as  an  investment — 
is  local  or  statewide  politics;  this  is  the  area 
where  my  training  in  the  humanities  has 
been  particularly  useful. 

"The  ability  to  communicate,  to  write 
well  and  to  get  to  the  point  quickly  and 
clearly  are  also  essential  to  my  daily  busi- 
ness. I  owe  my  communications  skills 
largely  to  the  individual  attention  I  received 
from  the  humanities  faculty  at  WPI." 

Like  Berube,  William  Katzman  '92  be- 
came involved  in  theater  as  an  undergradu- 
ate. Before  coming  to  WPI,  Katzman  had 
been  active  as  an  actor  and  mime  with 
school  or  professional  theater  groups  for 
several  years.  "I  knew  I  couldn't  support 
myself  as  an  actor,"  he  says.  "I  came  to  WPI 


WPI  Journal 


Left,  an  interest  in  the  theater  drew  double  major  William  Katzman  '92 
to  WPI.  Above,  Kim  Philipp  '93  will  turn  her  dual  major  in  humanities  and 
electrical  engineering  into  a  career  in  patent  law.  Below,  dual  major 
Raymond  Bert  '93  served  a  year  as  co-editor  of  the  student  newspaper. 


because  it  was  a  small  school  where  I  could 
have  a  strong  major  in  physics  and  a  strong 
minor  in  drama.  When  1  realized  I'd  prob- 
ably end  up  taking  almost  every  drama 
course  the  college  offered,  I  decided  my 
transcript  might  as  well  reflect  that,  so  I 
became  a  double  major." 

A  winner  of  WPI's  Salisbury  Prize, 
Katzman  was  a  member  of  Masque  and  MW 
Repertory  Theater,  Etc.  and  a  founder  of  the 
improvisational  group  Some  Assembly  Re- 
quired. He  also  wrote  three  plays  as  an  un- 
dergraduate; two  were  performed  as  part  of 
New  Voices,  WPI's  annual  festival  of  new 
plays.  For  his  Major  Qualifying  Project  he 
wrote  an  81 -page  script  for  a  comedy  video. 
"It  was  a  pseudo-documentary  about  a  per- 
son trying  to  get  a  film  produced,"  he  says. 

Since  last  June,  Katzman  has  been  en- 
rolled in  the  Math,  English,  Science,  Tech- 
nology Education  Project  at  the  University 
of  Massachusetts.  The  intensive  15-month 
program  offers  paid  internships  in  teaching 
and  industry.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  pro- 
gram, Katzman  will  receive  a  master's  de- 
gree in  education  and  will  be  certified  to 
teach  high  school  physics.  Graduates  are 
asked  to  make  a  commitment  to  teach  for  a 
minimum  of  three  years  after  they  complete 
the  program. 

"You  benefit  from  coming  out  of  an  engi- 
neering school  with  a  humanities  degree," 


he  says.  "A  lot  of  companies 
want  humanities  majors  for 
business  positions.  At  WPI,  you 
get  some  technical  elements  be- 
cause the  projects  involve  tech- 
nology. It  isn't  easy.  You  have  to 
be  able  to  do  this  stuff.  They 
don't  teach  'Calculus  for  Poets!'" 
While  the  Institute  attracts  a  few  stu- 
dents who  enroll  specifically  to  be  humani- 
ties majors,  most,  like  Nikolai  A.  Yurkanin 
'95,  switch  their  major  to  humanities  from 
engineering  or  science.  Yurkanin,  who  says 
he  was  heavily  involved  in  the  science  pro- 
gram at  his  high  school  in  Holden,  Mass., 
and  won  awards  at  science  fairs,  came  to 
WPI  to  study  engineering,  but  had  a  change 
of  heart  after  taking  introductory  courses  in 
science  and  math. 

"I  really  enjoyed  my  humanities 
courses — especially  'Light  and  Vision,' 
which  examines  the  arts  from  the  perspec- 
tive of  physics,  chemistry  and  biology.  I 
thought,  'Wow,  I  wish  1  could  do  that!' " 
One  of  the  advantages  of  being  a  hu- 
manities major  at  WPI  is  the  opportunity  to 
get  a  feel  for  science  and  technology  as  well 
as  liberal  studies,  notes  Yurkanin,  who  says 
he  aspires  to  design  exhibits  for  the  Smith- 
sonian Institution  after  graduation.  "You  get 
a  really  good  perspective  when  you  take  the 
kinds  of  courses  available  at  a  school  that 
specializes  in  science  and  engineering." 
For  William  L.  Schongar  '94,  the  hu- 
manities proved  an  attractive  option  after 
he  realized  that  his  original  career  choice, 
aerospace  engineering,  wasn't  for  him.  "After 
a  year  and  a  half,  I  knew  I  didn't  want  to 
crunch  numbers  the  rest  of  my  life.  My 
mother  is  an  English  teacher  and  I  like 


to  write,  so  I  decided  to  major  in  the 
humanities." 

Schongar,  who  calls  himself  a  medieval- 
ist, completed  his  Interactive  Qualifying 
Project  at  the  Tower  of  London.  After  survey- 
ing visitors  to  gather  information  that  will 
enable  the  administrators  of  the  tower  to 
improve  their  displays,  Schongar  decided 
he'd  like  to  create  exhibits  for  the  Higgins 
Armory  Museum  in  Worcester.  "I  like  to  teach 
people,  and  one  of  the  best  ways  to  do  that 
is  to  write  about  what  they  are  going  to  see, 
giving  them  information  to  work  with." 

Raymond  R.  Bert  '93  and  Kimberly  S. 
Philipp  '93  both  became  double  majors  af- 
ter discovering  the  range  of  courses  offered 
by  the  Humanities  Department.  Bert,  who  is 
majoring  in  mechanical  engineering  and  hu- 


8 


Winter  1993 


manities,  says  that  while  he's  always  had  an 
interest  in  the  humanities — particularly 
writing — he  enrolled  at  WP1  to  study  engi- 
neering. 

As  a  sophomore,  he  fulfilled  his  Suffi- 
ciency requirement  with  a  project  on 
Stephen  Crane.  "That's  when  I  learned  about 
the  humanities  major,"  he  says.  "I  like  the 
idea  that  it's  somewhat  free-form,  with  ev- 
erything leading  you  toward  your  MQP." 

His  focus  in  the  humanities  being  nonac- 
tion writing,  he  joined  the  staff  of  Newspeak, 
the  student  newspaper,  during  his  junior 
year.  After  serving  as  associate  editor,  he 
became  a  co-editor  in  January  1992;  he 
completed  his  term  in  December. 

Bert's  mechanical  engineering  MQP 
focused  on  resident  stress  effects  on  the 
fracture  toughness  of  ceramics;  for  his 
humanities  MQP  he  is  assembling  a  portfo- 
lio of  his  own  original  news  articles.  "People 
are  surprised  when  they  hear  I'm  doing  a 
double  major — and  that  one  of  those  majors 
is  in  a  nontechnical  field,"  he  says.  "But  ma- 
joring in  the  humanities  and  mechanical 
engineering  doesn't  pose  a  particular  chal- 
lenge for  me.  It  allows  me  to  study  two 
things  I  really  enjoy." 

Though  he  plans  to  work  in  materials  sci- 
ence after  graduation,  Bert  says,  "I'd  like  to 
see  myself  as  some  sort  of  writer  someday, 
perhaps  as  a  free-lancer  for  a  newspaper." 
With  her  dual  major  program,  Philipp  is 
studying  history  and  electrical  engineering. 
The  daughter  of  an  electrical  engineer,  she 
enrolled  at  WPI  with  the  intention  of  follow- 
ing in  her  father's  footsteps.  "I'd  always  had 
an  interest  in  history  and  law  and  I  origi- 
nally planned  just  to  do  a  regular  Sufficiency 
in  those  areas,"  she  says.  "I  decided  on  the 
double  major  after  I  took  a  legal  history 
course  with  Professor  Manfra,  who  talked 
about  the  humanities  major 
Alf  in  class." 

■  ■ML  Philipp  incorporated  her 

™  -  *  growing  interest  in  law  and  the 

legal  aspects  of  history  into  her 
Interactive  Qualifying  Project. 
Working  at  the  Washington, 
D.C.,  Project  Center  for  the 
United  States  Patent  Office,  she 
and  her  teammates  researched 
maintenance  fees  applied  over 
a  12-year  period. 

As  she  approaches  the 
completion  of  her  dual-degree 
program,  Philipp  has  decided 
she  won't  be  a  second-genera- 
tion electrical  engineer  after  all. 
After  graduation  she  plans  to 
take  her  law  boards  and  apply 
to  law  school  to  become  a 
patent  attorney. 

— Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


The  Humanities: 

Up  Close  and  Personal 


m  t  seems  that  for  as  long  as 
H  colleges  and  universities  have 
m  been  preparing  young  men 
m  and  women  for  careers  in 
m  science  and  engineering,  edu- 
cators have  been  discussing  how  best — and 
how  extensively — to  expose  these  techni- 
cally oriented  students  to  the  arts  and  hu- 
manities. It  was  a  subject  that  stirred  debate 
100  years  ago  when  the  American  Society 
for  Engineering  Education  was  founded,  and 
it  is  one  that  still  has  people  talking  and 
writing  today. 

Despite  all  the  debate,  most  educators 
agree  that  to  be  fully  prepared  to  meet  the 
demands  of  their  professions,  scientists 
and  engineers  need  much  more  than  an  in- 
troduction to  the  humanities  and  the  arts. 
"It's  part  of  our  culture,  our  intellectual  heri- 
tage and  our  environment,"  notes  Lance 
Schachterle,  associate  dean  of  undergradu- 
ate studies  and  professor  of  English. 

"It  is  critical  for  all  students — regard- 
less of  their  professional  background — to 
be  well-grounded  in  these  fields,  just  as  it  is 
critical  for  students  in  the  humanities  to  be 
well-grounded  in  science,  math  and  tech- 
nology. It's  fundamentally  important  to  in- 
tellectual development  and  to  stimulating 
students'  native  curiosity  to  provide  them 
access  to  all  the  achievements  of  our  cul- 
ture— scientific,  artistic  and  otherwise." 

Schachterle  also  notes  that  from  a  practi- 
cal view,  a  firm  foundation  in  the  humanities 
can  give  a  scientist  or  engineer  an  edge 
should  he  or  she — as  many  technical  profes- 
sionals do  during  their  careers — enter  the 
world  of  management.  "It  is  still  typically 
the  case  that  people  in  high  government  po- 
sitions and  those  high  on  the  corporate  lad- 
der have  backgrounds  in  the  humanities," 


he  says.  "If  people  trained  in  science  and  en- 
gineering are  to  rise  equally  high,  they  must 
know  something  about  the  intellectual  sub- 
stance of  their  competition." 

Surprisingly,  considering  all  the  years  of 
soul-searching  about  the  humanities,  most 
U.S.  engineering  programs  have  settled  on  a 
fairly  standard  and  prosaic  approach  to  the 
field.  Most  adhere  to  guidelines  published 
by  ABET,  the  Accreditation  Board  for  Engi- 
neering and  Technology,  which  stipulates 
that  accredited  programs  require  students 
to  take  a  total  of  one-half  year's  worth  of 
courses  (usually  selected  at  random)  in 
both  the  humanities  and  social  sciences. 

And  that  was  how  the  humanities  was 
handled  at  WPI  up  through  the  late  1960s, 
when  the  faculty  and  administration  began 
a  critical  appraisal  of  the  WPI  curriculum 
that  ultimately  resulted  in  the  WPI  Plan,  a 
dramatic  departure  from  the  traditional 
"boot-camp"  approach  to  engineering  edu- 
cation. One  of  the  innovative  elements  of 
the  Plan  was  a  novel  way  of  introducing 
students  to  the  humanities  and  arts  called 
the  Humanities  Sufficiency  program. 

While  most  engineering  schools  have 
settled  for  a  "Chinese  menu"  approach, 
in  which  students  fulfill  set  distribution 
requirements  by  choosing  one  or  more 
courses  (usually  at  the  introductory  level) 
in  several  areas  of  the  humanities,  the  de- 
signers of  the  Plan,  through  the  Sufficiency, 
developed  a  different  model,  one  that  em- 
phasizes depth  rather  than  superficial  ex- 
posure to  the  entire  range  of  disciplines. 

"The  Sufficiency  degree  requirement  is 
designed  to  offer  students  a  'sufficient'  lib- 
eral arts  experience,"  notes  JoAnn  Manfra, 
head  of  the  Humanities  Department.  "Its 
goal  is  to  provide  students  with  a  more  than 


WPI  Journal 


According  to  a  study  designed  by  James  Hanlan,  associate  professor  of  history, 
the  Humanities  Sufficiency  provides  WPI  students  with  a  worthwhile  intellectual 
experience  that  few,  if  any,  of  the  Institute's  competitors  can  match. 


passing  acquaintance  with  a  field  unrelated 
to  engineering  or  science.  More  profoundly, 
perhaps,  the  Sufficiency  program  attempts 
to  demonstrate  that  being  educated  means 
embracing  valid,  intellectually  vigorous 
ways  of  examining  knowledge  in  which  there 
is  a  role  for  ambiguity— both  'factual'  and 
'moral.'  In  other  words,  the  Sufficiency  ex- 
perience provides  a  healthy  dose  of  disci- 
plined thinking  about  uncertainties." 

To  fulfill  the  Sufficiency  requirement, 
students  must  take  five  thematically  related 
humanities  courses  and  then  complete  an 
original  project  that  draws  on  the  material 
in  those  courses.  The  combination  equals 
about  a  half-year  of  work — the  amount 
ABET  requires  engineering  students  to 
devote  to  both  the  humanities  and  social 
sciences.  WPI  students  must  also  take  two 
courses  in  the  social  sciences  and  complete 
the  Interactive  Qualifying  Project — the 
equivalent  of  another  three  courses. 

Students  may  not  work  in  teams  on  their 
Humanities  Sufficiencies,  which  are  usually 
done  during  the  sophomore  year,  so  every 
student  must  be  individually  advised  by  a 
humanities  faculty  member.  On  average, 
each  humanities  professor  advises  26 
Sufficiencies  a  year. 

Since  the  range  of  topics  for  the  Suffi- 
ciency can  be  as  broad  as  the  disciplines 
that  make  up  the  humanities  and  the  arts, 
the  department  has  endeavored  to  provide 
considerable  diversity  in  its  course  offer- 
ings, Manfra  says.  Students  may  supplement 
the  department's  offerings  by  taking 


courses  at  other  colleges  in  the  Worcester 
Consortium  for  Higher  Education,  including 
such  noted  liberal  arts  institutions  as  Holy 
Cross  College  and  Clark  University. 

A  student  generally  begins  work  on  the 
Sufficiency  by  developing  an  idea  of  what  he 
or  she  would  like  to  accomplish  in  the  final 


project.  The  possibilities  are  surprisingly 
broad.  Often  the  final  product  is  a  paper  or 
critical  essay,  but  students  may  also  choose 
to  write  an  original  work  of  fiction  such  as  a 
short  story,  a  collection  of  poems  or  a  play, 
or  create  an  original  musical  composition. 
Students  may  also  undertake  a  musical  or 
dramatic  performance  and  then  write  an 
essay  about  their  experiences. 

Some  students  complete  the  Sufficiency 
by  taking  six  courses  in  a  foreign  language 
or  by  taking  part  in  the  American  Studies 
Seminar,  a  series  sponsored  each  fall  by  the 
American  Antiquarian  Society  in  collabora- 
tion with  five  Worcester  colleges  and  univer- 
sities. Seminar  topics  focus  on  areas  that  let 
students  make  full  use  of  the  extensive  hold- 
ings in  American  history,  literature  and  cul- 
ture housed  in  the  society's  headquarters, 
located  adjacent  to  the  WPI  campus. 

A  student  develops  and  hones  his  or  her 
theme  in  consultation  with  a  faculty  advisor; 
the  advisor  continues  to  work  closely  with 
the  student  as  the  Sufficiency  progresses. 
With  a  theme  in  mind,  the  student  then 
chooses  the  five  courses  he  or  she  thinks 
will  provide  the  proper  intellectual  under- 
pinnings for  the  project.  Although  these 
courses  may  fall  within  a  single  area  of  the 
humanities,  interdisciplinary  work  is  en- 
couraged. The  only  requirement  is  that  ma- 
terial presented  in  the  courses  be  related  to 
the  Sufficiency  theme. 

There  are  no  hard  and  fast  rules  for  mak- 


English  Professor  Kent  P.  Ljungquist,  left,  and  Philip  E.  Marks  '93  review  a  draft  of 
Marks'  Sufficiency  project  on  literary  impressionism  in  the  works  of  Stephen  Crane. 


10 


Winter  1993 


ing  these  choices;  often  the  courses  chosen 
present  a  surprising  and  thoughtful  tableau. 
Here  are  two  examples  from  projects  com- 
pleted in  recent  terms: 

"Childe  Hassam: 

An  American  Impressionist" 

A  look  at  the  works  and  influence  on  the 
world  of  American  art  by  Hassam,  a  major 
American  painter. 

By  Julie  A.  Driscoll  '94 

Advisor:  David  M.  Samson,  assistant 
professor  of  art  history/architecture 

Courses  taken: 

•  Introduction  to  Art  History 

•  Topics  in  19th  and  20th  Century 
Architecture 

•  Modern  Art 
•Introduction  to  Painting 

•  Light  and  Vision 

"U.S.  Policy  Towards  Korea:  1945-1950" 

Looking  at  American  and  Soviet  interests 
in  Southeast  Asia,  this  study  outlines  U.S. 
policies  that  led  to  the  Korean  conflict. 

By  Won  Tae  Yang  '94 

Advisor:  James  P.  Hanlan,  associate 
professor  of  history 

Courses  taken: 

•Introduction  to  Philosophy  and 
Religion 

•  American  History:  1877-1920 

•  The  Shaping  of  Post-1920  America 

•  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Foreign 
Policy  and  Diplomatic  History 

•American  Foreign  Policy  from 
Woodrow  Wilson  to  the  Present 

Does  the  Sufficiency  accomplish  its  goals? 
To  answer  that  question,  last  June  six  hu- 
manities faculty  members  sat  down  to 
read  and  critique  nearly  300  Sufficiencies 
completed  during  the  1991-92  academic 
year.  "The  reviewers  were  generally  im- 
pressed with  the  quality  of  the  student 
work,"  says  James  Hanlan,  who  designed 
the  study  and  analyzed  the  results  of  the 
evaluations.  "While  a  few  papers  could  be 
described  as  run-of-the-mill,  most  were 
clearly  worthwhile  intellectual  experiences 
of  the  sort  few,  if  any,  of  our  competitor  col- 
leges offer  their  students." 

The  Sufficiency  Review  Committee  made 
some  recommendations  for  strengthening 
the  program,  nearly  all  of  which  have  been 
implemented,  Manfra  says.  "This  is  a  strong 
program,  but  we  didn't  just  design  it  and 
leave  it  alone.  Our  faculty  are  continually 
revisiting  the  Sufficiency  program  to  find 
ways  to  enable  it  to  fulfill  its  objectives." 

Recently,  the  humanities  faculty  devel- 
oped a  new  off-campus  option  for  the 
Sufficiency  program.  It  will  allow  under- 


graduates to  complete  work  toward  their 
Sufficiency  during  a  seven-week  period  out- 
side the  bounds  of  the  campus.  A  student 
writing  about  the  French  Revolution,  for  ex- 
ample, might  study  original  documents  and 
visit  historic  sites  while  he  is  in  residence  at 
the  University  of  Marne-la-Vallee  in  Paris,  with 
which  WPI  runs  an  exchange  program.  A  play- 
wright might  travel  to  the  Edinburgh  Arts  Fes- 
tival in  Scotland  to  experience  the  leading 
edge  of  theater,  or  even  to  see  her  own  play 
performed. 

"Sufficiency  projects  undertaken  in  inter- 
national settings  will  encourage  students  to 
immerse  themselves  in  the  intellectual  tradi- 
tions of  other  cultures,"  Manfra  says.  "Simi- 
larly, projects  done  at  off-campus  project 
centers  in  the  United  States  will  introduce 
students  to  cultural  diversity  here  at  home." 


Another  measure  of  the  success  of  the 
Sufficiency  program  is  the  fact  that  ABET, 
the  major  accrediting  agency  for  all  engi- 
neering colleges,  has  recently  revised  its  guide- 
lines for  humanities  education,  notes  Francis 
C.  Lutz,  dean  of  undergraduate  studies. 

"In  the  most  recently  published  criteria 
for  evaluating  engineering  programs,  ABET 
made  a  point  of  emphasizing  that  the 
courses  students  select  must  provide  not 
only  breadth,  but  depth,"  he  says,  "and  not 
be  limited  to  a  bunch  of  unrelated  introduc- 
tory survey  courses.  It's  taken  more  than 
20  years,  but  it  looks  like  the  profession 
may  finally  be  recognizing  that  our  ap- 
proach does  a  much  better  job  of  prepar- 
ing students  to  be  solid  professionals  and 
competent  citizens." 

— Michael  Dorsey 


Helping  Students 
Find  the 
Right  Words 


B  m 


nyone  who's  ever 
struggled  to  compose 
a  thank-you  note  or  a 
thesis  can  appreciate 
I  Fowler's  words.  But 
for  WPI  students,  finding  the  right  words  has 
gotten  a  bit  easier,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  the 
Humanities  Department  and  other  educa- 
tors at  the  Institute, 
who've  worked  over 
the  last  five  years  to 
develop  a  variety  of 
writing  education  and 
tutoring  programs. 

The  process  be- 
gan in  1 988  when  John 
M.  Trimbur,  associate 
professor  of  English, 

was  hired  to  develop  a  writing  program  and 
expand  the  Institute's  course  offerings  in  writ- 


ing. A  writing  specialist  with  a  background 
in  rhetoric  and  composition,  Trimbur  asked 
William  R.  Grogan,  now  dean  emeritus  of  un- 
dergraduate studies,  to  form  a  committee  to 
oversee  the  writing  program. 

Today,  the  Writing  Advisory  Commit- 
tee promotes  the  importance  of  oral  and 
written  communication  and  develops  pro- 
grams to  integrate 


"Writing  is  easy. 

All  you  do  is  stare  at  a  blank 

sheet  of  paper  until  drops 

of  blood  form  on  your  forehead. 

— Gene  Fowler 


writing  across  the 
entire  undergradu- 
ate curriculum. 
Trimbur  chairs  the 
committee,  whose 
members  are 
Herbert  Beall,  pro- 
fessor of  chemis- 
try, David  DiBiasio, 
associate  professor  of  chemical  engineer- 
ing, William  Farr,  assistant  professor  of 


WPI  Journal 


11 


John  Trimbur, 
associate  professor 
of  English,  discusses 
a  writing  assignment 
with  humanities  major 
Teran  Sacco.  A  writing 
specialist,  Trimbur 
directs  a  variety  of 
programs  aimed  at 
preparing  some  WPI 
undergraduates  for 
careers  in  writing  and 
helping  all  students 
communicate  more 
effectively. 


JANET  WOODCOCK 


mathematical  sciences,  Thomas  Keil, 
professor  of  physics,  and  Judith  Miller, 
associate  professor  of  biology  and  bio- 
technology. 

Here  are  some  of  the  programs  that  the 
committee  now  helps  oversee: 

Writing  Across  the  Curriculum  does 
just  what  its  name  implies:  it  aims  to  make 
writing  (and  speaking)  an  important  part  of 
every  course  taught  at  the  Institute.  To  date, 
the  program,  which  was  initially  funded  with 
a  grant  from  the  General  Electric  Founda- 
tion, has  been  implemented  in  lower-divi- 
sion mathematics  and  science  courses.  It 
encourages  students  to  use  writing  to  pro- 
mote learning  and  to  connect  writing  and 
critical  thinking. 

"We  assumed  that  students  in  their  first 
two  years  at  WPI  receive  practice  in  writing 
in  their  humanities  courses,"  Trimbur  says. 
"But  to  prepare  them  to  do  the  technical  or 
scientific  writing  called  for  in  WPI's  required 
projects,  we  needed  to  develop  more  oppor- 
tunities for  them  to  write  as  part  of  their 
math  and  science  assignments." 

Trimbur  says  the  Writing  Across  the 
Curriculum  project  has  been  successful  in 
increasing  the  number  of  faculty  presenta- 
tions and  publications  on  the  use  of  writing 
in  the  teaching  of  mathematics  and  science. 
For  example,  Beall  and  Trimbur  have  devel- 
oped a  booklet  of  reading  and  writing  as- 
signments called  Reading  and  Writing  in 
Chemistry  and  have  conducted  faculty  work- 
shops to  assist  other  faculty  members  in 


assigning  writing  projects  to  their  classes  and 
responding  to  the  work  their  students  do. 

Last  spring  WPI,  Clark  University  and 
Holy  Cross  College  sponsored  the  Second 
Annual  Writing  Across  the  Curriculum 
Conference,  the 
theme  of  which 
was  "Science  and 
the  Postmodern 
World."  Also  last 
year,  Beall  orga- 
nized WPI's  Sixth 
Annual  Conference 
on  Chemical  Edu- 
cation around  the 
theme,  "Writing 
as  a  Tool  to  Teach 
Chemistry." 

Tutors  at  WPI's 
Writing  Resource 
Center  offer  writing 
assistance  at  no 
charge  in  any  aca- 
demic area — from 
papers  to  project 
reports — and  are 
available  to  help 
students  with  any 
other  writing  or 
writing-related 
work,  such  as  re- 
sumes or  graduate 
school  and  job 
applications. 

The  center, 


located  in  Salisbury  Laboratories,  was  estab- 
lished in  1975  to  assist  students  with  project 
work;  it  gradually  evolved  into  a  resource 
used  primarily  by  international  students. 
Since  1991,  when  Barbara  L.  McCarthy  was 


Technical  writing  major  Renee  LaFountain  says  her 
WPI  education  gave  her  an  excellent  grounding  in 
both  writing  and  science. 


12 


Winter  1993 


named  director,  the  center  has  broadened 
its  scope  to  meet  the  writing  needs  of  all 
WP1  students. 

Last  spring,  Trimbur  and  McCarthy  inau- 
gurated an  independent  study  titled  "Peer 
Tutoring  in  Writing."  Those  who  complete 
the  course  are  offered  jobs  at  the  center. 
"The  philosophy  behind  peer-tutor  training 
is  that  students  respond  better  to  sugges- 
tions from  fellow  students  than  from  fac- 
ulty," says  McCarthy,  who  notes  that  tutors 
also  hone  their  own  writing  skills  by  teach- 
ing others.  "The  increasing  numbers  of  un- 
dergraduates who  take  advantage  of  our 
services  appear  to  bear  this  out. 

"This  is  not  a  drop-off  editorial  service," 
McCarthy  adds.  "Although  most  students 
come  to  the  center  for  help  with  a  specific 
assignment,  we  don't  just  correct  their  writ- 
ing. We  want  them  to  become  writers,  and 
we  encourage  them  to  interact  with  us.  Pro- 
fessors are  demanding  improved  writing 
skills  in  the  papers  they  assign  and  in  the 
projects  they  advise.  Instruction  in  writing 
can  benefit  all  students,  not  just  those  for 
whom  English  is  a  second  language." 

WPI's  Technical  Writing  major  is  admin- 
istered by  the  Institute's  Interdisciplinary 
Studies  Division.  Its  current  directors  are 
Trimbur  and  Stephen  J.  Weininger,  professor 
of  chemistry. 

It  was  Barbara  O'Toole  '88  who  blazed 
the  trail  for  today's  technical  writing  majors. 
In  her  third  year  as  a  mechanical  engineer- 
ing major,  O'Toole  decided  that  her  interests 
lay  more  in  writing  about  technology  than  in 
developing  technology.  Trimbur  developed 
an  intensive  technical  writing  program  for 
O'Toole,  who  graduated  as  an  interdiscipli- 
nary major.  She  is  now  employed  as  a  tech- 
nical writer  at  Stratus  Computer  Inc.  in 
Marlboro,  Mass. 

"I  document  communications  software 
and  hardware,"  she  says.  "The  manuals  I 
write  consist  of  programmers'  guides,  net- 
work and  configuration  and  administration 
guides,  and  general  product  bulletins.  I 
also  use  a  lot  of  my  computer-aided  design 
course  work  as  I  produce  graphics  and  illus- 
trations for  these  manuals." 

Technical  writing  became  an  official  ma- 
jor in  1990;  15  undergraduates  are  currently 
enrolled  in  the  program.  Majors  take  half 
their  courses  in  writing  and  half  in  a  techni- 
cal or  scientific  concentration.  The  writing 
concentration  consists  of  all  three  of  WPI's 


writing  courses — Ele- 
ments of  Writing, 
Nonfiction  Prose  and 
Writing  in  the  Profes- 
sions— plus  three  in- 
dependent studies — 
Composing  Theory 
and  Research,  Rhe- 
torical Theory,  and 
Peer  Tutoring  in 
Writing. 

"Because  of  the 
interdisciplinary 
nature  of  the  pro- 
gram, our  students 
have  a  strong  tech- 
nical and  scientific 
background,"  Trim- 
bur says.  "They  are 
well-prepared  to 
work  in  a  variety  of 
areas,  including  pub- 
lishing, science  jour- 
nalism, or  hospital 
or  museum  public 
relations." 

Senior  Renee 
LaFountain  of 
Gansevoort,  N.Y.,  is 
one  of  the  new  crop 
of  technical  writing 

majors.  Like  O'Toole,  she  didn't  start  out  to 
be  a  writer.  "I  came  to  WPI  for  the  science, 
math  and  engineering  programs  and  ulti- 
mately decided  to  major  in  biology,"  she 
says.  "By  the  time  I  realized  biology  was  not 
where  I  wanted  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life,  1 
had  become  quite  involved  in  the  school. 
For  me  it  was  just  a  matter  of  finding  a  pro- 
gram that  fit." 

LaFountain,  who  plays  piano  and  trum- 
pet, is  president  of  WPI's  student  jazz  pro- 
gram. After  completing  her  Humanities 
Sufficiency  requirement  on  jazz  in  the  1950s 
and  her  IQP  on  transgenic  animals  and  their 
use  in  research,  she  realized  how  much  she 
had  enjoyed  writing  and  organizing  the 
projects.  When  she  learned  she  could  com- 
plete the  degree  requirements  for  a  techni- 
cal writing  major  and  still  graduate  on  time, 
she  made  the  switch. 

Trimbur  says  WPI  is  particularly  well- 
equipped  to  educate  students  like  LaFoun- 
tain. "Most  technical  writing  programs  come 
out  of  English  departments,"  he  says.  "While 
those  students  take  the  same  number  of 


From  top,  in  WPI's  Writing  Resource  Center,  writing  tutor 
Kathleen  M.  McKenna  '94  reviews  a  paper  with  Ly  C.  Chhem 
'95  while  center  director  Barbara  L.  McCarthy,  instructor  of 
communications,  reviews  a  tape  of  a  public  speaking 
assignment  with  Alex  Cardenas  '96,  a  native  of  Panama. 


courses  in  writing  as  ours  do,  they  don't 
have  nearly  the  depth  in  a  technical  or 
scientific  field.  We've  had  a  lot  of  positive 
feedback  from  employers,  who  tell  us  that 
our  students  are  much  more  fluent  in  engi- 
neering and  science  than  those  who've  been 
educated  at  liberal  arts  colleges." 

"I'm  still  a  scientist  at  heart,"  says 
LaFountain.  "When  1  learn  about  something 
going  on  in  biological  research,  for  example, 
I  understand  it  from  a  scientist's  perspec- 
tive. The  challenge  for  me  as  a  technical 
writer  will  be  to  take  that  highly  scientific 
information  and  translate  it  into  terms  the 
average  person  can  understand." 

As  she  starts  to  look  for  a  job,  LaFoun- 
tain says  she  feels  "really  marketable.  I  have 
a  strong  science  background  and  I  can  write. 
I  believe  I  can  compete  favorably  against 
technical  writers  who  are  humanities  majors 
and  who've  only  taken  introductory  science 
courses,  as  well  as  against  scientists  who've 
never  learned  about  writing.  It's  the  best  of 
both  worlds." 

— Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


WPI  Journal 


13 


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For  50  years,  Alden  Memorial  has  served  as  a  social  and 

cultural  center  for  the  WPI  community. 

After  a  yearlong  restoration,  this  gem  of  a  building  has 

emerged  as  a  modern  center  for  the  performing  arts. 

Now,  from  early  morning  until  late  at  night, 

the  halls  are  alive  with  the  sound  of  music — and  drama. 


By  Michael  Dorsey 


WPI  Journal 


15 


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•»: 


November  19, 1992.  7:30  p.m. 


November  24, 1992.  7:00  p.m. 


December  1, 1992. 1:45  p.m. 


December  3, 1992.  7:35  p.m. 


Backstage  in  Alden  Memorial,  students  line  up  before 
long,  lighted  mirrors  in  two  new  dressing  rooms,  putting 
on  stage  makeup  and  getting  into  costumes.  In  a  half  hour 
they'll  be  on  stage,  as  a  high-tech  explosion  of  lights,  video 
projections,  music,  sound  effects,  fog  and  smoke  heralds 
the  opening  of  an  imaginative  production  of  Shakespeare's 
The  Tempest. 

Walking  down  the  corridor  of  Alden's  lower  level,  a  visitor 
is  enveloped  by  the  sound  of  young  voices.  Lining  the 
risers  in  the  Janet  Earle  Room,  the  50  members  of  the 
Men's  Glee  Club  practice  a  demanding  arrangement  of 
Greensleeves.  Across  the  hall  in  the  Perreault  Chamber 
Rehearsal  Room,  the  Women's  Chorale  warms  up  with  a 
medley  of  Christmas  songs. 

In  Alden's  new  music  classroom,  Professor  David  McKay 
is  reviewing  a  lesson  for  students  in  his  course  on  the 
fundamentals  of  music.  Seated  at  the  piano,  McKay  guides 
the  class  through  the  finer  points  of  harmony. 

As  late  arrivals  search  for  seats  on  the  floor  of  the  great 
hall  and  in  the  balcony,  the  Concert  Band  strikes  up  a 
festive  tune,  beginning  the  annual  holiday  concert  that  will 
showcase  most  of  WPI's  15  musical  groups. 


16 


Winter  1993 


0 

■        Jr     ^  ome  52  years  after  it  was  built,  Alden 
^  M  Memorial  has  gotten  a  new  lease  on 

^^i     S    life.  Designed  to  fill  the  need  for  a 

multipurpose  auditorium  on  campus 
and  to  provide  a  home  for  a  central  library,  the  build- 
ing has  been  transformed  into  a  modern  and  elegant 
center  for  the  performing  arts. 

The  transformation,  in  the  planning  stages  since 
1984,  began  just  after  Reunion  in  1991  and  was  com- 
pleted in  time  for  Commencement  in  1992.  In  addition 
to  these  activities,  the  renovated  building  has  since 
hosted  numerous  events  and  meetings,  including  a 
special  series  of  concerts  and  plays  designed  to  show- 
case its  new  spaces  and  facilities.  The  various  events 
were  sponsored  by  the  Applied  Music  Division, 
Masque  (the  student  dramatic  arts  society)  and  the 
Social  Committee,  or  SocComm. 

But  despite  the  nearly  constant  activity  in  Alden 
since  it  reopened,  the  building  will  not  be  officially 
rededicated  until  April  22, 1993,  the  150th  birthday 
of  its  namesake,  George  I.  Alden  (see  Advance  Word, 
page  2).  On  that  day  the  members  of  the  newly  formed 
George  I.  Alden  Society,  a  recognition  group  that  hon- 
ors alumni  and  friends  who  have  included  WPI  in  their 
wills  or  estate  plans  for  at  least  $25,000,  will  enjoy  a 
dinner  and  an  address  by  Richard  H.  Gallagher,  presi- 
dent of  Clarkson  University,  former  WPI  provost  and 
a  pioneering  researcher  in  the  field  of  finite  element 
analysis.  Donors  to  the  restoration,  special  friends  and 
selected  members  of  the  WPI  community  will  also  be 
invited  to  the  event. 

The  $2.7  million  restoration,  designed  by  the  firm 
of  Shepley,  Bulfinch,  Richardson  and  Abbott  in  Boston 
and  completed  by  general  contractor  Cutler  Associates 
in  Worcester,  was  largely  funded  by  a  $1.6  million  grant 
from  the  George  I.  Alden  Trust,  which  gave  the  building 
to  the  college  in  1940  as  a  permanent  memorial  to 
Alden.  Other  generous  gifts  were  received  from  the 
Surdna  Foundation,  the  George  C.  Gordon  Trust,  the 
Daniels  Foundation,  and  a  number  of  alumni  and 
friends  (see  box,  page  21). 

The  Alden  Memorial  project  combined  careful  restoration  of  what 
has  been  called  one  of  the  most  beautiful  college  buildings  in  the 
Northeast,  with  the  creation  of  new  spaces  and  facilities  for  music 
and  theater.  Even  before  entering  the  building,  one  notices  a  major 
change:  a  new,  spacious  freight  elevator  that  serves  each  of  its  four 
levels  and  the  stage.  A  small  extension  was  added  at  Alden's  south- 
west corner  to  accommodate  the  elevator;  due  to  a  careful  choice 
of  brick  and  the  reuse  of  original  limestone  cornices  and  moldings, 
the  extension's  facade  is  nearly  impossible  to  distinguish  from  the 
original  construction. 


Opposite,  under  the  direction  of  Margaret  M.  Konkol,  the  Women's 
Chorale  performs  during  the  annual  holiday  concert  in  the  fully 
restored  great  hall  of  Alden  Memorial.  Above,  Erica  A.  Curran  '96 
and  Byung  S.  Yun  '93  take  advantage  of  new  private  rehearsal  rooms. 


Adjoining  the  extension  is  a  new  loading  dock  that  makes  it  easier 
to  deliver  supplies  and  equipment  to  the  building,  a  handicapped 
access  ramp,  and  a  new  plaza  linking  Alden  to  the  adjacent  Sanford 
Riley  Hall  (see  photo,  page  15).  The  Class  of  1942  earmarked  $100,000 
of  its  50th  anniversary  gift  for  the  construction  of  the  plaza  and  used 
another  $25,000  to  set  up  an  endowed  fund  that  will  ensure  the 
plaza's  maintenance  in  the  years  ahead. 

Entering  Alden  on  the  main  level,  a  visitor  might  almost  fail  to 
notice  the  results  of  the  restoration,  for  in  many  ways  the  foyer  and 
great  hall  look  much  as  they  did  when  the  building  was  completed  in 
1940.  But  a  more  careful  examination  reveals  the  products  of  a  loving 


WPI  Journal 


17 


Above,  Susan  Vick,  professor  of  drama/theater,  gives  the  cast  and  crew  of  The 
Tempest  some  final  comments  in  the  greenroom  before  the  curtain  rises  on 
dress  rehearsal  night.  Opposite,  from  left,  graduate  student  Andrew  L. 
Hansford,  Kristi  J.  Henricksen  '94  and  Hollybeth  Normandin  '94  in  a  scene  from 
The  Tempest.  Below,  Douglas  Weeks,  director  of  applied  music,  directs  the 
Concert  Band  as  it  performs  in  the  new  Lora  E.  Spaulding  Recital  Hall,  one  of 
the  new  performing  arts  facilities  in  Alden. 


restoration:  the  refinished  marble  staircase,  the  new 
hardwood  floor,  the  plaster  ceiling  that  replaced  the  old 
pressed-straw  tiles,  the  refinished  oak  paneling  and 
ceiling  beams,  and  the  carefully  cleaned  and  restored 
iron  chandeliers  and  stained  glass  window  medallions. 

The  great  hall  is  also  brighter,  thanks  to  new  lighting 
fixtures  (these  include  new  sconces  that  illuminate  the 
stone  carvings  at  each  end  of  the  ceiling  beams).  Like 
the  rest  of  the  building,  the  hall  has  also  benefited  from 
upgrades  to  the  plumbing,  heating  and  ventilation  sys- 
tems. There  are  also  new  stage  and  window  curtains, 
new  seating  for  600  on  the  floor  and  100  in  the  balcony, 
new  sound-absorbing  panels  at  the  rear  of  the  audito- 
rium, a  new  acoustic  shell  with  an  adjustable  ceiling, 
and  a  new  electronic  dimmer  system  and  sophisticated 
pulley  system  for  the  stage. 

Behind  and  adjacent  to  the  stage  are  two  new  dress- 
ing rooms,  a  room  for  use  by  caterers  (the  auditorium 
will  continue  to  host  dinners  and  other  catered  events), 
and  a  fully  restored  greenroom,  which  serves  both  as  a 
theater  classroom  and  a  place  for  performers  to  relax 
before  going  on  stage. 

One  floor  up,  the  offices  of  the  music  and  theater 
faculty — in  rooms  that  were  originally  rented  to  bach- 
elor professors — have  also  benefited  from  a  thorough 
face-lift.  But  to  see  the  most  dramatic  evidence  of  the 
building's  transformation,  one  must  travel  down  to  the 
lower  levels. 

On  the  ground  level,  a  once  dark,  musty  storage 
area  has  been  turned  into  a  brightly  lit  and  well- 


—  - '"»'  ;lr— —— »— — ■— *Hf 


18 


Winter  1993 


equipped  scenery  construction  shop.  This  level  also  serves  as  stor- 
age space  for  the  lighting  and  audio  equipment  used  by  Lens  and 
Lights,  a  student  group  that  provides  lighting  and  sound  services  for 
the  campus  community.  The  scene  shop  is  served  by  the  new  eleva- 
tor, making  it  possible  to  bring  flats  and  other  set  pieces  right  to  the 
stage;  previously,  it  was  necessary  to  either  build  sets  on  the  stage 
or  carry  the  pieces  up  two  long  flights  of  stairs. 

The  floor  just  below  the  auditorium,  long  used  as  practice  space 
by  the  college's  musical  groups,  has  been  beautifully  redecorated 
and  rearranged  to  create  a  highly  functional  music  education,  re- 
hearsal and  recital  center.  With  the  addition  of  a  set  of  risers,  the 
Janet  Earle  Room  has  become  the  primary  choral  rehearsal  room. 
Nearby,  what  was  once  an  unfinished  storage  room  has  been  turned 
into  a  music  classroom. 

The  former  Alumni  Conference  Room  at  the  southeast  corner  of 
Alden  is  now  the  Ina  Perreault  Chamber  Rehearsal  Room.  At  the 
southwest  corner,  in  a  room  that  once  served  as  a  librarian's  office, 
is  a  new  computer-assisted  music  laboratory  equipped  with  Macin- 
tosh computers,  synthesizers  and  recording  equipment.  Adjacent 
to  the  front  stairwell  are  an  office  and  three  new  private  rehearsal 
rooms,  where  students  can  practice  their  instruments  without 
disturbing  other  building  occupants. 

The  centerpiece  of  this  new  music  center  is  the  Lora  E.  Spaulding 
Recital  Hall,  located  in  what  was  originally  the  college  library.  In  addi- 
tion to  a  new  wood  floor,  elegant  curtains  and  refinished  woodwork, 
the  addition  of  risers,  sound-absorbing  panels  and  a  grid  of  spot- 
lights make  this  an  ideal  performing  space  for  chamber  groups. 
Lora  Spaulding,  the  daughter  of  Ralph  Spaulding  '09,  left  the  Insti- 
tute a  major  unrestricted  bequest  in  1989,  part  of  which  was  used 
to  create  this  hall. 

With  its  new  look  and  new  spaces,  Alden  is  now  home  to  the 
college's  music  and  drama  programs— both  educational  and  extra- 
curricular. (It  has  also  attracted  the  attention  of  regional  performing 
arts  groups— the  Worcester  Orchestra  will  hold  a  concert  in  Alden 
in  May.)  The  Institute's  five  full-  and  part-time  instructors  of  music- 
Douglas  G.  Weeks,  administrator  of  applied  music,  Louis  J.  Curran  Jr., 
associate  professor  of  music,  Richard  G.  Falco,  director  of  jazz  stud- 
ies, Margaret  M.  Konkol,  director  of  the  Women's  Chorale,  and  David 
P.  McKay,  professor  of  music— teach  a  wide  range  of  courses  in  mu- 
sic theory  and  history  and  advise  dozens  of  student  projects  each 
year,  including  Humanities  Sufficiencies  that  focus  on  music  or  in- 
clude a  musical  composition  or  performance. 

Nearly  all  of  the  music  faculty  members  also  direct  music  groups. 
In  recent  years  these  well-traveled  groups  have  made  tours  of 
Canada,  Europe,  Russia  and  Africa,  in  addition  to  their  regular  per- 
formances at  WPI  and  at  other  colleges  and  universities.  In  1992,  for 
example,  the  Concert  Band,  Brass  Ensemble,  Stage  Band  and  Jazz 
Ensemble  toured  Egypt,  a  trip  that  included  a  breakfast  performance 
before  the  Sphinx  and  the  Pyramids  of  Giza  for  the  French  and  Ameri- 
can ambassadors,  the  governor  of  Cairo  and  the  mayor  of  Giza.  At 
the  same  time,  the  Men's  Glee  Club  performed  in  Great  Britain,  sing- 
ing at  Oxford  University,  Worcester  Cathedral  and  before  over  1,000 
people  in  the  Bethlehem  Chapel  in  Rhos,  Wales,  where  they  were 
the  guests  of  the  Orpheus  Male  Choir,  one  of  the  most  outstanding 
choral  organizations  in  Great  Britain. 

A  total  of  215  students  participate  in  the  college's  musical  groups, 
Weeks  notes.  In  addition,  a  number  of  Men's  Glee  Club  alumni  per- 
form with  female  singers  from  the  WPI  community  and  other  colleges 
as  the  University  Chorus.  "WPI's  music  groups  enjoy  a  long  and 


Left,  Louis  J.  Curran, 
professor  of  music, 
leads  the  Men's  Glee 
Club  through  a  rehear- 
sal in  the  refurbished 
Janet  Earle  Room, 
which  now  serves 
as  the  primary  choral 
rehearsal  room.  Below, 
clockwise  from  bottom, 
Matthew  J.  Calistro  '96, 
Jason  E.  Macierowski 
'96  and  Theodore  L. 
Dysart  '94  use  the 
synthesizers  and 
Macintosh  computers 
in  the  new  Computer 
Music  Laboratory- 


distinguished  history,"  he  says,  "but  I  think  it's  safe  to  say  that  their 
popularity  today  is  unprecedented.  With  the  restoration  of  Alden, 
we  now  have  a  beautiful  performing  arts  center  that  will  enable  us 
to  further  expand  our  programs  and  reach  new  levels  of  excellence." 

Equally  as  popular  as  the  college's  music  programs  are  its  con- 
tinually growing  programs  in  theater.  Under  the  direction  of  Susan 
Vick,  professor  of  drama  and  theater,  Masque,  one  of  the  oldest 
student  clubs  at  WPI,  mounts  a  major  production  each  fall. 

In  1992,  the  Masque  production  of  The  Tempest  played  to  record 
houses  four  nights  running.  In  fact,  on  Friday  and  Saturday  nights, 
after  the  regular  seats  on  the  stage  were  all  taken  (to  create  a  more 
intimate  experience,  audience  members  sit  on  an  extension  of  the 
stage  at  Masque  productions),  latecomers  willingly  filled  the  balcony 
to  watch  the  play  from  a  less  than  perfect  vantage  point. 

Enthusiasm  for  the  dramatic  arts  at  WPI  seems  to  grow  in  inten- 
sity each  year,  says  Vick,  who  notes  that  about  125  students  were 
directly  involved  in  the  production  of  The  Tempest,  while  many 
others  in  several  student  organizations  served  as  ushers,  ran  a 
cafe  and  performed  music  before  the  show. 

Helping  fuel  that  excitement  is  an  annual  festival  of  original, 
student-written  and  -directed  plays  called  New  Voices.  Now  gearing 
up  for  its  1 1th  season,  New  Voices  was  launched  by  Vick  as  a  re- 
sponse to  a  ground  swell  of  interest  in  playwrighting  among  WPI 
students.  Now,  each  January  a  team  of  five  student  dramaturges 
reviews  some  50  scripts  submitted  by  members  of  the  WPI  commu- 
nity (mostly  students)  to  choose  15  or  so  for  the  April  production. 
Ultimately,  more  than  400  students  will  be  involved  in  the  1993 
New  Voices  as  directors,  actors,  stage  managers,  crew  members, 
publicists,  and  so  on,  Vick  notes. 

Excitement  about  theater  at  WPI  has  grown  to  the  point  where 
one  dramatic  arts  group  can  no  longer  contain  it,  Vick  says.  Since 
1989,  MW  Repertory  Theater,  etc.,  WPI's  version  of  an  "off-Broadway" 
theater  group,  has  been  producing  two  plays  a  year  at  various  loca- 
tions on  campus.  Chain  Link  Fence,  an  improvisational  theater  group, 
also  performs  regularly.  Another  student  group  mounts  productions 
during  the  summer  months,  and  the  members  of  Alpha  Psi  Omega, 

Winter  1993 


The  Major  Donors 

to  the 

alden  memorial  restoration 


The  George  i.  alden  trust 

estate  of  lora  e.  spaulding, 

daughter  of  ralph  e.  spaulding  '09 

•  Recital  Hall  • 

The  George  c.  Gordon  '95  trust 

•  Stage  and  Fittings  • 

George  w.  smith  jr.  '15 

•  Greenroom  and  the  Janet  Earle  Room  • 

CLASS  OF  1942 
•  Plaza  and  Plaza  Endowment  Fund  • 

The  Surdna  foundation 

•  Computer  Music  Laboratory  • 

The  Daniels  Foundation 
•  Equipment  for  Computer  Music  Lab  • 

Mary  Knight, 
widow  of  Frederick  H.  Knight  '28 

•  Music  Classroom  • 

INAW.  PERREAULT, 

late  wife  of  Raymond  J.  Perreault  '38 
•  Chamber  Rehearsal  Room  • 

JOSEPH  GLASSER  '35 

•  Performers'  Dressing  Rooms  • 

LILLA  MOLDER 

•  Practice  Room  • 

.    RICHARD  PROUTY 

•  Practice  Room  • 


Members  of  several  WPI  musical  groups  pose  before  the  Sphinx  and  the 
Pyramids  of  Giza  during  a  1992  tour  of  Egypt,  one  of  several  overseas  trips 
made  by  the  Institute's  music  and  theater  groups  in  recent  years. 


the  dramatic  honor  society,  help  in  all  of 
these  productions. 

Like  the  Institute's  music  groups,  Masque 
has  also  developed  a  distinctly  international 
flavor  in  recent  years.  Since  1988,  the  group 
has  made  frequent  treks  to  the  Fringe,  part 
of  the  Edinburgh  Arts  Festival  in  Scotland, 
the  largest  gathering  of  its  type  in  the  world. 
In  the  summer  of  1991,  Vick  and  30  students 
performed  two  plays  from  the  annual  New 
Voices  festival  for  audiences  at  the  Fringe. 

"This  is  one  of  the  best  things  we've 
ever  done,"  Vick  says.  "It  is  exciting  for  stu- 
dents not  only  to  experience  the  best  the 
world  theater  has  to  offer,  but  to  see  their 
own  work  with  an  international  perspective." 

The  growing  interest  in  activities,  courses 
and  projects  that  revolve  around  music  and 
theater  has  led  many  at  the  Institute  to  won- 
der how  those  interests  might  intersect  with 
other  academic  programs.  "As  we  search  for 
ways  to  develop  our  curriculum  to  respond 
to  what  the  real  world  is  doing — particularly 
the  downsizing  of  the  defense  industry — it 


will  be  increasingly  important  for  WPI  to  pro- 
vide programs  that  combine  the  study  of  an 
appropriate  technology,  like  electrical  and 
computer  engineering,  with  a  rich  immersion 
in  music  and  theater,  leading  to  careers  in 
growing  fields  like  the  media  and  the  arts," 
notes  Lance  Schachterle,  associate  dean  of 
undergraduate  studies  and  chairman  of  the 
Interdisciplinary  Studies  Division. 

Currently,  a  committee  of  faculty  mem- 
bers from  the  Humanities,  Electrical  and 
Computer  Engineering,  and  Computer  Sci- 
ence departments  is  just  beginning  the  pro- 
cess of  looking  into  the  feasibility  of  major 
or  double  major  programs  that  combine 
music  and  technology. 

Notes  William  R.  Grogan,  dean  emeritus 
of  undergraduate  studies,  who  is  assisting 
the  committee,  "Music  is  becoming  an  amaz- 
ingly sophisticated  field.  It  not  only  involves 
electrical  engineering,  which  plays  a  role  in 
audio  and  electronic  sound  reproduction,  but 
computer  science,  since  so  much  of  music  is 
now  reproduced  and  transmitted  digitally. 


"The  average  electrical  engineer  does 
not  have  much  background  in  music,  nor 
does  the  average  musician  have  much  back- 
ground in  computer  and  electronic  technol- 
ogy," Grogan  adds.  "Someone  conversant 
with  both  areas  could  have  quite  an  inter- 
esting career." 

At  WPI,  such  a  major  or  dual-major  pro- 
gram would  build  on  a  great  deal  of  existing 
student  interest,  notes  Louis  Curran.  "It 
would  be  a  natural  for  the  Institute,"  he 
says.  "So  many  students  already  have  syn- 
thesizers or  computers  that  reproduce  mu- 
sic, and  many  more  are  highly  into  audio. 
And,  our  computer  music  courses  are  al- 
ways oversubscribed." 

"We  have,  through  the  humanities  and 
arts  program  at  WPI,"  Schachterle  adds, 
"the  opportunity  to  show  that  both  sides — 
technical  and  humanistic — are  creative,  that 
both  sides  can  be  well-developed,  and  that  a 
combination  of  those  two  can  provide  an  in- 
creasing number  of  students  with  exciting 
career  opportunities." 


WPI  Journal 


21 


Restoring  a  Legend 


As  resident  program  manager 
for  the  Pentagon  Renovation 
Program,  Tony  Leketa  '69  is 
responsible  for  one  of  the 
largest  construction  projects 
ever  undertaken  by  the 
U.S.  Army  Corps  of  Engineers. 

By  Ruth  Trask 


T7 

LJ  ifty  years  after  it  rose  from  the  site  of  a 
I     former  military  depot  in  Arlington,  Va., 
A    in  one  of  the  most  massive  and  ambi- 
tious construction  projects  undertaken  in 
modern  times,  the  Pentagon  is  getting  a 
much  needed  overhaul.  Among  the  most 
easily  recognized  buildings  in  the  world  and 
the  hub  of  the  nation's  defense  programs, 
the  Pentagon  has 
fallen  on  hard  times 
in  recent  years. 

After  nearly  five 
decades  of  neglect, 
the  aging  heating 
and  refrigeration 
plant  is  no  longer  up 
to  the  task  of  heating 
and  cooling  the 
building's  6.5  million 
square  feet  of  floor 
space.  Its  interior 
walls  are  riddled 
with  holes  made  by 
roving  utility  carts. 
Even  the  building's 
massive  reinforced 
concrete  facade  is 
cracking  and  spalling 
in  places.  The  reno- 
vation program  is 
being  managed  by 
the  U.S.  Army  Corps 
of  Engineers.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  jobs 
ever  undertaken  by  this,  the  largest  con- 
struction organization  in  the  world. 

The  resident  program  manager  for  the 
$1.4  billion  project  is  Anthony  F.  Leketa  '69, 
an  engineer  with  the  Army  Corps  of  Engineers 
Leketa  is  no  stranger  to  huge  construction 
projects.  In  the  late  1980s,  he  headed  the 
$1.3  billion  Fort  Drum  Expansion  Program 
in  New  York,  which  included  the  largest 
military  construction  contract  awarded 
since  World  War  II. 

"Fort  Drum  was  a  civil  engineer's 
dream,"  says  Leketa,  whose  management 
of  the  mammoth  project  earned  him  the 


Anthony  Leketa  on-site  at  the  Pentagon 


Wheeler  Award,  the  highest  honor  given  by 
the  Society  of  American  Military  Engineers, 
and  the  Army's  Meritorious  Civilian  Service 
Award.  "Now  I'm  working  on  the  Pentagon. 
That's  pretty  exciting  stuff  for  a  former 
Worcester  boy  who  once  played  with  a 
$1.50  Erector  set." 

Leketa  describes  the  Pentagon  project 
as  his  "second 
once-in-a-life- 
time  chal- 
lenge." While 
supervising  a 
staff  of  165  on 
the  construc- 
tion of  Fort 
Drum,  he  had 
the  opportu- 
nity to  build  a 
city  on  7,000 
|  acres  of  virgin 
is  woodland.  Like 
|  the  Pentagon 
5  construction 
5  program  (see 

I  s  related  story, 
|1  page  25),  the 
1 8  Fort  Drum 

I I  effort  was 
°~  marked  by  a 

relatively  short 
but  intense 
period  of  design  and  construction.  Just 
three  years  elapsed  from  the  start  of  design 
work  to  the  time  soldiers  moved  in  in  1987. 

The  army  post,  which  can  accommo- 
date 10,000  soldiers  and  25,000  civilians  and 
family  members,  contains  35  miles  of  new 
roads,  20  barracks,  3,950  housing  units, 
child  development  and  youth  activities 
centers,  a  fire  station,  a  safety  and  law  en- 
forcement center,  chapels,  a  heating  plant, 
a  bowling  alley,  a  shopping  mall  and  more 
than  100  other  buildings. 

"Building  a  shopping  center  in  the 
middle  of  Washington,  D.C.,  is  an  everyday 
occurrence,"  Leketa  says.  "But  there  was 


22 


Winter  1993 


*^Ngir 


ASBESTOS 

WW56*  ANO  LUNG  DISEASE 
■  HAZARD 

AUTHORIZED 
PERSONNEL  ONLY 

RESPIRATORS  AND 
CT1VEC  * 

REQUI 


A  major  challenge  facing  the  engineers  planning  the  Pentagon  Renovation 
Program  is  the  large  quantity  of  asbestos  used  in  the  building's  construction. 


nothing  like  that  at  Ft.  Drum.  We  started 
from  scratch."  As  project  director,  Leketa 
was  required  to  address  concerns  from 
citizens  in  adjacent  Watertown,  N.Y.,  whose 
population  doubled  following  completion  of 
the  construction  program. 

He  also  monitored  the  potential  environ- 
mental impact  on  Lake  Ontario,  which  lies 
just  25  miles  away,  making  changes  as  neces- 
sary to  comply  with  environmental  regula- 
tions. The  proximity  of  the  post  to  Canada 
mandated  additional  considerations  in  the 
environmental  area,  especially  with  respect 
to  emissions  from  the  facility's  coal-  and 
wood-burning  heating  plant. 

The  Fort  Drum  "new  city"  project  gave 
Leketa  the  opportunity  to  build  something 
major  from  the  ground  up.  He  says  he  felt  a 
great  sense  of  accomplishment  when  it  was 
over.  "I  loved  that  job,"  he  says.  "It  meant 
working  a  zillion  hours,  but  it  was  one  of  the 
most  exciting  assignments  I've  ever  had — 
until  now.  The  Pentagon  renovation  project 
tops  everything." 

The  renovation  of  the  five-story  Penta- 
gon, the  largest  low-rise  office  building  in  the 
world,  is  providing  Leketa  an  entirely  differ- 
ent set  of  challenges.  Consider  the  magni- 
tude of  the  project:  the  Pentagon  covers 
34  acres,  has  three  times  the  floor  space  of 
the  Empire  State  Building,  and  is  twice  the 
size  of  the  Chicago  Merchandise  Mart.  The 
Capitol  Building  could  easily  fit  into  any  one 
of  its  five  wedge-shaped  sections.  It  contains 
more  than  17  miles  of  corridors  and  has 
nearly  8,000  windows.  It  supports  an  office 
population  that  fluctuates  around  25,000. 

It  is  a  self-sustaining  community.  Besides 
its  own  heating  and  refrigeration  plant,  it 


has  medical  facilities,  a  shopping  mall, 
dining  and  athletic  facilities,  a  post  office, 
a  library,  a  police  force,  and  easy  access  to 
the  Metrorail  and  Metrobus  systems. 

Recognizing  the  building's  continuing 
decline  and  the  need  to  have  an  efficient, 
logically  arranged  administration  building 
for  the  nation's  armed  forces,  the  govern- 
ment decided  to  renovate  the  Pentagon  in 
the  early  1980s.  In  1988  the  Department  of 
Defense  commissioned  the  firm  of  Howard 
Needles  Tammen  &  Bergendoff  to  develop  a 
renovation  concept.  The  firm  evaluated  nine 
possible  strategies,  ranging  from  renovating 
the  entire  building  all  at  once  to  breaking 
the  project  into  150  increments  of  44,000 
square  feet  each.  Ultimately,  it  was  decided 
to  renovate  the  building  in  five  approxi- 
mately equal  wedges,  to  be  completed  one 
wedge  at  a  time.  The 
basement  will  be 
renovated  separately. 

The  major  goals 
of  the  10-year  pro- 
ject are  to  provide 
safer  working  condi- 
tions (the  building 
is  woefully  deficient 
in  complying  with 
current  life  safety 
codes),  a  modest 
increase  in  adminis- 
trative space,  better 
traffic  flow  inside 
and  outside  the 
building,  better  or- 
ganizational align- 
ment and  security, 
enhanced  communi-     A  view  of  the  Pentagon 


cations,  and  a  marked  increase  in  energy  ef- 
ficiency. 

In  1989  the  Defense  Department  named 
the  Corps  of  Engineers  the  design  and  con- 
struction agent  for  the  program;  the  day- 
to-day  activities  are  being  managed  by  the 
Corps'  Baltimore  District,  where  Leketa  is 
currently  assigned.  He  says  the  major  chal- 
lenges the  Corps  faces  revolve  around  the 
fact  that  the  building  has  never  had  a  major 
face-lift.  In  addition,  there  have  been  few 
changes  to  adapt  the  structure  to  current 
codes  and  to  the  changing  nature — and 
electrical  demands — of  office  work. 

"These  demands  are  overtaxing  the  origi- 
nal utility  systems,  resulting  in  increasingly 
frequent  power  outages,"  he  says.  "It  is  now 
common  for  20  localized  power  outages  to 
occur  each  day  during  the  summer;  this 
rises  to  30  to  40  during  the  winter.  The 
original  heating  and  refrigeration  plant  is 
virtually  out  of  service,  as  the  boilers  and 
chillers  are  inoperable.  The  distribution 
of  heat  and  air-conditioning  is  equally  un- 
reliable, and  steam  and  chilled  water  are 
furnished  by  packaged  rental  boilers  and 
chillers." 

In  constructing  the  building's  interior, 
the  architects  chose  to  use  extensive 
amounts  of  asbestos-laden  material.  Asbes- 
tos is  found  in  floor  tiles,  mechanical  equip- 
ment insulation  (including  ductwork  made 
of  asbestos  board  to  conserve  metal  for 
the  war  effort),  the  finish  coat  of  all  ceiling 
plaster,  and  some  interior  walls. 

Under  Leketa's  direction,  the  entire 
building  will  be  demolished  to  structure 
and  completely  rebuilt.  In  addition,  all 


's  deteriorating  heating  and  cooling  plant. 


WPI  Journal 


23 


mechanical,  electrical  and  communications 
systems  will  be  replaced,  a  brand  new  HVAC 
system  installed,  all  asbestos  removed,  all 
windows  replaced,  and  the  exterior  given 
a  face-lift. 

But  the  renovation  won't  just  overhaul 
the  building's  physical  structure.  Since  it 
opened  at  the  height  of  World  War  II,  the 
Pentagon  has  become  an  increasingly  com- 
plicated and  congested  warren  of  offices, 
corridors  and  stairwells.  Related  offices  are 
now  often  located  at  distant  comers  of  the 
building  and  traffic  patterns  can  be  confus- 
ing for  those  not  familiar  with  them. 

As  part  of  the  renovation,  space  assign- 
ments will  be  reorganized  so  tenants  with 
similar  functions  will  share  the  same  or  ad- 
jacent space.  This  should  eliminate  a  great 
deal  of  corridor  traffic,  Leketa  says.  The  sec- 
ond floor  will  become  the  primary  level  for 
horizontal  circulation  in  the  building;  new 
passenger  elevators  (the  building  currently 
has  no  passenger  elevator  service)  will  in- 
troduce vertical  circulation,  with  tenants 
being  organized  around  their  own  vertical 
circulation  systems.  A  corridor  management 
plan  will  be  developed  to  separate  service 
and  pedestrian  traffic  between  office  and 
service  elevators. 

The  Pentagon  project  also  includes  some 
aesthetic  changes  and  the  construction  of 
an  extension  to  the  building,  parts  of  which 
are  listed  on  the  National  Registry  of  His- 
toric Places.  The  500,000-square-foot  ex- 
tension, called  the  Pentagon  Maintenance 
Facility,  will  be  built  at  the  Mall  Entrance.  It 
will  house  light  industrial  functions  such  as 
the  maintenance  shops,  the  Defense  Protec- 
tive Services,  the  three  Pentagon  medical 
clinics  and  the  loading  dock. 

The  basement/mezzanine  level  will  be 


completely  renovated,  adding  about  200,000 
square  feet  of  usable  space.  New  two-story, 
secured  access  points  will  be  built  at  the 
main  entrances  and  atriums  will  be  created 
at  the  five  inside  corners  of  the  building. 

"The  building  itself  appears  to  be  basi- 
cally structurally  sound,"  Leketa  says.  "But 
there  is  significant  cracking  of  concrete  at 
the  inside  light  wells  and  along  the  interior 
drive,  which  will  have  to  be  repaired.  Also, 
the  athletic  club  and  basement  floor  slabs 
show  signs  of  settling." 

Improvements  will  also  be  made  to  the 
area  around  the  building,  including  exten- 
sive site  work,  parking  lot  resurfacing  and 
bridge  restoration.  Vehicular  traffic  pat- 
terns, especially  in  the  south  parking  lot, 
will  be  updated  to  meet  the  demands  cre- 
ated by  the  presence  of  nearby  Interstate 
395  and  the  addition  of  Metrorail  and 
Metrobus  service. 

The  renovation  will  be  accomplished  in 
eight  phases,  Leketa  says.  Throughout  the 
process,  the  Pentagon,  which  is  the  center 
of  the  nation's  military  capability,  must  re- 
main operational.  To  that  end,  Leketa's  team 
must  find  temporary  accommodations — 
either  inside  the  building  or  elsewhere — for 
occupants.  Leketa  is  supervising  all  design 
and  construction  activities  from  a  new 
modular  office  complex  at  the  north  end  of 
the  Pentagon's  north  parking  lot.  His  staff, 
which  currently  numbers  30,  will  grow  to 
about  70  before  the  project  is  done. 

Leketa's  office  recently  awarded  the  first 
major  construction  contracts:  for  a  new  $71 
million  heating  and  r  -frigeration  plant  and 
a  $6  million  classifies  waste  incinerator 
upgrade  at  the  existing  heating  plant.  The 
heating  and  refrigeration  plant  will  provide 
240,000  pounds  of  steam  per  hour  and 


Leketa,  far  left,  meets  with  some  of  the  30  staff  members  who  currently 
report  to  him  to  review  the  myriad  details  of  the  complex  renovation  project. 


37,500  tons  of  chiller  capacity  for  cooling. 
"Currently,"  he  says,  "we  are  overseeing 
design  contracts  for  the  Mall  Terrace  exten- 
sion and  the  basement  renovation.  We  are 
also  involved  in  more  than  100  planning  and 
development  studies." 

Prior  to  heading  the  Pentagon  and  Fort 
Drum  projects,  Leketa  served  as  area  engi- 
neer with  the  Northeastern  Area  Office  of 
the  New  York  District  Corps  of  Engineers 
located  at  Fort  Devens  in  Ayer,  Mass.  At 
Devens  he  was  responsible  for  administer- 
ing more  than  $100  million  in  construction 
contracts  for  the  U.S.  government  and  su- 
pervising the  activities  of  50  engineers  dis- 
persed over  nine  field  offices  in  the  six  New 
England  states. 

The  projects  he  oversaw  included  a 
major  rebuilding  of  Loring  Air  Force  Base 
in  Caribou,  Maine,  and  the  renovation  of  the 
Fargo  Building  (now  known  as  the  Barnes 
Building)  in  downtown  Boston.  The  Barnes 
project  was  a  total  renovation  of  a  600,000- 
square-foot,  nine-story  structure. 

A  registered  professional  engineer  in 
Massachusetts,  Leketa  didn't  start  out  as 
a  civil  engineer.  At  WPI,  he  earned  a  bach- 
elor's degree  in  chemical  engineering  and 
later  earned  a  master's  in  civil  engineering 
(water  resources  and  sanitary  engineering). 

An  active  member  of  the  Army  Corps  of 
Engineers  for  10  years,  he  served  as  a  cap- 
tain on  tours  of  duty  in  Korea  and  Germany. 
He  graduated  from  the  Army  Command  and 
General  Staff  College  and  is  currently  a  lieu- 
tenant colonel  in  the  Army  Reserve  in  com- 
mand of  a  military  police  battalion  at  Fort 
Eustis  in  Virginia.  He  was  recently  selected 
to  attend  the  Industrial  College  of  the  Armed 
Forces  at  Fort  McNair  in  Washington,  D.C. 

Leketa's  memberships  include  Scabbard 
and  Blade,  Chi  Epsilon  (the  civil  engineering 
honor  society),  the  American  Society  of  Civil 
Engineers,  the  Society  of  American  Military 
Engineers,  the  Reserve  Officers  Association 
and  the  U.S.  Army  Engineer  Association.  At 
one  time  he  was  a  partner  in  his  own  busi- 
ness, Associated  Building  Inspectors.  When 
he's  not  on-site  at  the  Pentagon,  he  relaxes 
with  photography,  running,  tennis  and  rac- 
quetball. 

With  one  of  the  biggest  construction 
projects  in  recent  memory  in  full  swing, 
there's  little  time  for  recreation.  But  that's 
no  problem  for  Leketa,  who  says  he  thrives 
on  the  huge  responsibilities  his  work  for  the 
Corps  of  Engineers  brings  him.  "My  idea  of 
hell  would  be  sitting  at  a  desk  doing  design 
calculations,"  he  says.  "If  I  couldn't  get  out 
there  and  see  what's  going  on,  it  would 
drive  me  crazy.  The  renovation  of  the  Pen- 
tagon represents  a  monumental  challenge, 
and  I'm  tremendously  excited  about  being 
in  the  thick  of  it." 


24 


Winter  1993 


Rome  Wasn't  Built  in  a  Day,  but  the  Pentagon 

Nearly  Was 


By  Anthony  F.  Leketa  '69 


Conceived  over  the  course  of  a  weekend  in  July  1 941  and  approved  by  Con- 
gress a  month  later,  the  Pentagon,  the  world's  largest  low-rise  office  building, 
was  built  in  just  1 6  months  by  construction  teams  working  around  the  clock. 


The  Pentagon.  Mere  mention  of  the 
name  conjures  up  images  of  staff 
officers  holding  classified  documents 
under  their  arms,  hurrying  to  the  offices  of 
high-ranking  generals.  And  the  appearance 
of  national  media  personalities  reporting 
from  the  Press  Room  enhanced  the  im- 
pression of  the  Pentagon's  power  and  im- 
portance during  the  Persian  Gulf  War.  After 
the  White  House  and  the  Capitol  Building, 
the  Pentagon  is  probably  the  most  impor- 
tant building  in  the  U.S.  and  probably  the 
most  easily  recognized. 

When  war  broke  out  in  1939,  tremendous 
demands  were  placed  on  the  War  Depart- 
ment, which  was  then  housed  in  several 
dispersed,  overcrowded  locations  in  the 
Washington,  D.C.,  area.  Lt.  Gen.  Brehon  B. 
Somervell,  commanding  general,  services 
and  supply,  is  credited  with  the  idea  of  con- 
solidating the  mushrooming  department  in 
a  single  building.  And  so,  in  the  summer  of 
1941,  the  Pentagon  was  conceived. 

Somervell  called  Lt.  Col.  Hugh  J.  Casey 
and  George  E.  Bergstrom,  president  of  the 
American  Institute  of  Architects,  into  his 
office  on  the  evening  of  Thursday,  July  17, 
1941.  He  directed  them  to  produce,  by  9 
o'clock  Monday  morning,  the  basic  plan  and 
architectural  perspective  for  a  four-story,  air- 
conditioned  building  to  house  40,000  people. 

Somervell  received  his  plans  on-time; 
they  called  for  a  reinforced  concrete  struc- 


ture of  5.1  million  square  feet.  Most  interior 
space  would  be  open,  and  only  senior  offi- 
cials would  have  private  offices.  Parking 
was  provided  for  10,000  cars.  The  building 
would  solve  wartime  space  problems  for 
many  government  agencies  competing  for 
room  in  Washington,  and  it  was  estimated 
that  War  Department  productivity  would 
increase  by  25  to  40  percent. 

The  first  site  selected  was  the  Washing- 
ton-Hoover Airport  on  the  Virginia  bank  of 
the  Potomac;  it  was  immediately  ruled  out 
because  it  was  in  the  Potomac's  floodplain. 
The  next  site  considered  was  Arlington 
Farms,  a  6.7-acre  plot  adjacent  to  Arlington 
Cemetery.  It  was  bounded  by  five  roads,  and 
when  Bergstrom  and  Casey  fitted  their  con- 
cept to  the  site,  a  building  with  five  sides 
seemed  best. 

The  concept  didn't  have  universal  sup- 
port and  there  was  considerable  debate  in 
Congress  about  the  need  and  scope  for  such 
a  building.  Nevertheless,  the  project  was 
authorized  on  Aug.  25, 1941.  But  before 
construction  could  begin,  the  location 
was  changed  again.  President  Roosevelt 
objected  to  the  Arlington  Farms  site  and 
directed  that  the  new  headquarters  be  built 
farther  south  in  an  area  then  used  as  a  mili- 
tary depot.  Somervell  kept  the  design  con- 
cept and  directed  that  construction  start 
immediately. 

The  most  amazing  statistic  of  the  origi- 


nal project  is  the  time  it  took  to  be  built.  A 
peak  labor  force  of  13,000  workers  took  16 
months,  working  around  the  clock,  from  the 
date  working  drawings  and  specifications 
were  started  in  September  1941  to  comple- 
tion in  January  1943.  That  period  included 
a  late  change  to  the  plans  that  added  a 
fifth  floor  and  extended  the  construction 
schedule  two  months. 

The  chief  of  engineers  at  the  time  was 
Maj.  Gen.  Eugene  Reybold,  but  the  construc- 
tion was  completed  under  the  direction  of 
the  deputy  chief  of  construction,  Col.  Leslie 
R.  Groves,  who  later  headed  the  Manhattan 
Project.  The  contractor  was  a  joint  venture 
of  John  J.  McShain  of  Philadelphia  and  Doyle 
and  Russell  and  Wise  Contracting  Co.,  both 
of  Richmond,  Va.  The  chief  architect/engi- 
neer was  George  Edwin  Bergstrom,  among 
whose  accomplishments  was  the  Hollywood 
Bowl  in  Los  Angeles. 

The  Pentagon  was  designed  for  effi- 
ciency, not  beauty.  Roosevelt  conditioned 
his  approval  of  the  project  on  a  guarantee 
that  no  marble  would  be  used  in  its  design. 
The  only  significant  ornament  on  the 
building's  exterior  is  a  commemorative 
cornerstone  at  the  Mall  Entrance — a  lime- 
stone plaque  listing  the  key  participants 
in  the  building  construction. 

The  architectural  style  used  has  been 
described  as  "starved  classicism"  and  "gov- 
ernment international."  The  Pentagon  is  a 
practical  building.  Its  design  and  construc- 
tion emphasized  the  conservation  of  critical 
war  materials,  particularly  copper  and  steel. 
The  low  structure  allowed  reinforced  con- 
crete to  be  substituted  for  a  steel  frame;  the 
mile-round  perimeter  wall  is  also  made  from 
reinforced  concrete  faced  with  Indiana  lime- 
stone. It  has  been  estimated  that  enough 
steel  was  saved  in  the  construction  of  the 
Pentagon  to  build  a  battleship. 

(Reprinted  with  permission  from  The  Mili- 
tary Engineer,  Vol.  83,  No.  543,  July  1991; 
copyrighted  material.) 


WPI  Journal 


25 


§ll§BisiGt 

mmm0sm 


In  recent  years,  WPI  has  taken  a 
long,  hard  look  at  how  it  manages 
one  of  its  most  vital  resources.  Out 
of  that  self-examination  has  come  a 
comprehensive  strategy  for  invest- 
ing the  endowment,  a  strategy  that 
reflects  not  only  the  need  for  greater 
endowment  growth  as  the  Institute 
plies  the  uncertain  financial  seas  of 
the  decade  ahead,  but  the  critical 
role  endowment  earnings  will 
play  in  WPI's  ability  to  grow  and 
change  as  higher  education — 
and  society  itself— evolve. 

By  Diane  Benison 


26 


Winter  1993 


f  they  think  about  it  at  all,  most  people  tend 
to  envision  an  endowment  as  a  large  pool  of 
money,  passively  invested.  Until  recently,  that 
was  largely  true. 

In  its  simplest  form,  an  endowment  is  a  per- 
manent fund,  the  earnings  from  which  are  used  to 
provide  ongoing  financial  support  to  an  institution.  Un- 
like the  reserve  account  a  business  might  set  up  or  the 
savings  account  an  individual  might  establish,  an  endow- 
ment is  not  intended  to  be  a  cushion  against  bad  times 
or  a  source  of  financial  reserves.  Rather,  it  is  a  perma- 
nent working  asset  that  will  continue  to  generate  funds 
for  current  operations  as  long  as  the  institution  exists. 
In  higher  education,  endowment  is  usually  made  up 
of  two  components:  true  endowment  and  various  funds 
functioning  as  endowment.  True  endowment  consists  of 
endowed  funds  that  donors  have  designated  for  specific 
programs  or  purposes.  The  second  component,  sometimes 
called  board-designated  or  quasi-endowment,  consists  of 
funds  placed  in  the  endowment — usually  at  the  election  of 
the  board  of  trustees — to  be  invested  and  used  as  if  they 
were  part  of  the  true  endowment.  About  40  percent  of 


Building  a  Successful 
Investment  Program 


WPI  treasurer  Robert  W.  Gailey  drafted  a  formal 
investment  policy  with  the  objective  of  enhancing 
the  return  on  WPI's  endowment  assets  while 
protecting  the  endowment's  purchasing  power. 


WPI's  $1 18  million  endowment  is  true  endowment;  the 
remainder  is  board-designated,  according  to  Robert  W. 
Gailey,  treasurer  and  vice  president  for  business  affairs. 

Because  they  have  not  been  restricted  by  a  donor,  quasi- 
endowment  funds  can  be  withdrawn  and  spent  at  the 
discretion  of  the  trustees.  In  practice,  though,  boards  are 
usually  unwilling  to  treat  quasi-endowment  as  a  savings 
account  because  of  the  value  of  having  the  predictable 
income  these  funds  generate.  As  RPI  president  Roland  W. 
Schmitt  said  in  a  recent  talk  at  WPI,  "Finances  cannot  make 
a  university  great,  but  their  lack  can  most  assuredly  keep 
one  from  becoming  great." 

A  predictable  income  stream  from  endowment  is  one 
of  the  four  principal  sources  of  revenue  for  most  colleges 
and  universities.  The  others  are  tuition,  gifts  and  research 
funding.  As  many  colleges  struggle  to  rein  in  tuition  increases, 
as  a  poor  economy  and  changing  national  priorities  put  the 
squeeze  on  corporate  and  individual  gifts,  and  as  federal  and 
state  research  funding  becomes  scarcer,  the  importance  of 
predictable  endowment  earnings  has  never  been  greater. 

As  they  are  at  most  colleges,  endowment  earnings  are 
added  to  the  college's  general  fund  to  be  spent  on  current 
programs  and  activities.  At  WPI,  a  large  and  growing  por- 
tion of  those  operating  funds  is  spent  on  student  financial 
aid.  During  the  fiscal  year  that  ended  June  30, 1992,  for  ex- 
ample, when  about  $4  million  in  endowment  earnings  were 
applied  to  the  general  operating  funds,  the  Institute  pro- 
vided students  with  nearly  $10  million  in  financial  aid  from 
its  own  funds. 

"Clearly,"  notes  WPI  President  Jon  C.  Strauss,  "without 
those  endowment  earnings — including  about  $1.5  million 
derived  directly  from  endowment  funds  restricted  to  finan- 


WPI  Journal 


27 


cial  aid — WPI  would  be  hard-pressed  to  provide  that  level 
of  financial  assistance  to  its  students — and  far  less  able  to 
compete  for  talented  young  men  and  women." 

"1  think  institutions  like  WPI  do  very  well  to  have  en- 
dowment as  part  of  their  financial  skeletons,"  notes  former 
WPI  treasurer  Joaquim  (Joe)  S.S.  Ribeiro  '58,  who  is  cur- 
rently principal  of  Jefferson  Financial  in  Jefferson,  Mass. 
"A  good  solid  endowment  is  part  of  your  balance  sheet. 
But  its  value  lies  not  only  in  the  fact  that  it  generates  funds; 
it  also  gives  the  institution  a  sense  of  steadfastness  and 
strength.  And  it  gives  people  who  are  dealing  with  the 
institution  the  feeling  that  it  is  here  to  stay." 

The  fiduciary  responsibility  for  WPI's  endowment 
has  always  rested  with  the  Board  of  Trustees.  During 
the  Institute's  early  years,  the  board  delegated  that  respon- 
sibility to  various  trustees  or  administrators.  Often,  the 
task  of  prudently  managing  the  endowment  funds  fell  to  a 
single  individual,  generally  the  Institute's  treasurer.  That 
manner  of  handling  endowments  was  neither  uncommon 
nor  unreasonable,  for  until  recently  the  financial  markets 
were  simpler  than  they  are  today,  with  far  fewer  options 
for  investing  money. 

At  some  point,  as  the  board  began  to  implement  a  com- 
mittee system,  oversight  of  the  management  of  the  endow- 
ment became  an  official  function  of  the  Budget  and  Finance 
Committee.  In  practice,  however,  it  was  still  often  a  one-  or 
two-person  job. 

That  was  how  things  were  in  1964,  when  John  E. 
Hossack  '46  joined  the  board.  Like  his  father,  Archibald 
Hossack  '12,  John  Hossack  spent  his  entire  career  with 
American  Appraisal  Co.,  the  international  real  estate  and 
asset  appraisal  firm  headquartered  in  Milwaukee.  And  like 
Archibald  Hossack,  who  was  a  WPI  trustee  for  more  than 
10  years,  serving  for  much  of  that  time  on  the  Budget  and 
Finance  Committee.  John  would  spend  many  years  on  the 
trustees'  budget  oversight  committee. 

When  Hossack  was  named  to  the  committee  in  1966, 
most  of  the  endowment  funds  were  being  managed  by  local 
banks.  Believing  that  bringing  more  diversity  to  the  endow- 
ment management  team  would  result  in  greater  security  for 
the  funds  and  a  greater  likelihood  of  endowment  growth, 
he  advocated  moving  some  of  the  endowment  funds  out  of 
Worcester  and  into  the  hands  of  other  investment  manag- 
ers. His  arguments  were  persuasive,  and  the  board  soon 
voted  to  do  just  that. 

That  decision  marked  the  start  of  an  era  of  great 
change  for  the  management  of  WPI's  endowment,  al- 
though Hossack,  who  became  chairman  of  the  Budget 
and  Finance  Committee  in  1971,  says  he  couldn't  have 
foreseen  then  how  far-reaching  that  change  would  ulti- 
mately prove.  For  no  one,  Hossack  notes,  could  have 
predicted  the  extent  to  which  the  world  of  investment 
would  evolve,  nor  could  they  have  foretold  the  financial 
crunch  that  would  bring  the  management  of  college  and 
university  endowments  to  prominence  just  a  few  de- 
cades down  the  road. 


A  WPI  trustee  since  1964  and  the  first  chairman 
of  the  board's  Investment  Committee,  John  E. 
Hossack  '46  has  long  been  an  advocate  of  the 
need  to  protect  the  endowment  principal  from 
erosion  by  inflation. 


From  the  beginning  of  his  tenure  on  the  Budget  and 
Finance  Committee,  Hossack  was  a  strong  proponent 
for  the  need  to  protect  the  endowment's  principal  from 
erosion  by  inflation.  "WPI  should  have  a  goal  of  earnings — 
plus  inflation,"  he  says,  "and  the  inflation  portion  should 
be  plowed  back  into  endowment  to  preserve  its  purchas- 
ing power.  If  you  don't  do  that,  you're  just  gradually  eating 
your  cake." 

At  the  recommendation  of  Hossack's  committee,  the 
Institute  established  a  formal  "spending  rule,"  sometimes 
called  the  "spending  rate."  A  spending  rule  defines  exactly 
how  much  of  the  earnings  from  endowment  may  be  used 
each  year  to  meet  current  operating  expenses.  WPI's 
spending  rule  sets  that  amount  at  5.5  percent  of  the  aver- 
age market  value  of  the  endowment — and  its  accumulated 
income  and  gains — for  the  previous  two  years. 

For  example,  if  the  total  endowment  were  valued  at 
$100  million  in  one  year  and  $110  million  in  the  following 
year,  its  average  market  value  for  those  two  years  would 
be  $105  million.  According  to  the  spending  rule,  in  the 
third  year  the  Institute  could  remove  5.5  percent  of  that 
value,  or  $5,775,000,  from  the  endowment  and  add  it  to  the 
income  side  of  its  restricted  and  unrestricted  budgets.  The 
spending  rule  allows  WPI  to  make  reasonable  predictions 
about  how  much  money  will  be  available  from  the  endow- 
ment each  year,  Gailey  says,  making  the  budgeting  process 
more  orderly. 

WPI's  5.5  percent  spending  rate  is  slightly  higher  than 
the  average  of  the  rates  adhered  to  by  the  country's  more 


28 


Winter  1993 


From  a  $100,000  Seed, 

A  $118  Million  Oak  Has  Grown 


110 


It  may  not  seem  like  a  great  deal  of  money  today,  but 
when  John  Boynton  turned  over  his  founding  gift  of 
$100,000  to  the  trustees  of  the  new  Worcester  County 
Free  Institute  of  Industrial  Science  in  1865,  it  was  nearly 
everything  he  had  amassed  during  a  long  and  successful 
career  as  an  entrepreneur  and  bank  president. 

In  accepting  Boynton's  fortune,  the  trustees  took  on 
a  lofty  responsibility,  for  that  gift  would  become  the 
seed  for  the  Institute's  endowment.  Through  prudent 
investment  and  the  addition  of  many  more  gifts,  that 
$100,000  seed  has  become  a  mighty  $118  million  oak. 

That  growth  didn't  happen  overnight,  of  course.  As 
the  graph  on  this  page  shows,  the  majority  of  the  as- 
cent has  occurred  only  within  the  last  few  decades.  In 
fact,  as  recently  as  1964  the  fund  stood  at  about  $18  mil- 
lion, one-tenth  of  its  current  value.  Four  major  fund-rais- 
ing campaigns  since  then — the  Centennial  Fund  (1964 
to  1967),  the  Plan  to  Restore  the  Balance  (1972  to  1977), 
the  Capital  Program  (1980  to  1983)  and  the  Campaign 
for  Excellence  (1985  to  1990) — have  helped  provide 
momentum. 

During  the  1980s  endowment  growth  was  aided  by  a 
robust  economy  that  yielded  high  returns  on  all  types 
of  investments.  That  positive  environment  plus  the 
great  success  of  the  Campaign  for  Excellence,  which  ex- 
ceeded its  $52.5  million  goal  by  21  percent,  enabled  the 
endowment  to  surge  from  $38  million  as  the  decade 
opened  to  more  than  $100  million  as  it  closed. 

The  success  of  recent  years  is  in  sharp  contrast  to 
the  endowment's  first  few  decades.  In  those  early  years, 
persistent  debt  and  frequent  deficits  plagued  the  col- 
lege. A  treasurer's  report  from  the  early  1880s  notes  a 
$15,100  shortage  in  the  endowed  funds  due  to  heavy 
drafts  made  upon  them. 

Generous  gifts  from  Ichabod  Washburn,  Stephen 
Salisbury,  David  Whitcomb  and  George  Hoar,  along  with 
an  appropriation  from  the  state,  helped  the  endowment 
grow  to  just  over  $379,000  by  the  end  of  1882.  The  fol- 
lowing year  the  Institute  launched  a  $110,000  campaign 
to  build  the  fund;  in  the  end,  half  that  much  was  raised, 
largely  through  a  few  major  gifts. 


For  many  years  the  Institute  depended  on  regular  state 
grants  to  fund  its  operations  and  enlarge  its  endowment.  But 
in  1917  the  state  legislature  passed  the  "Anti-Aid  Amend- 
ment," which  called  for  the  end  to  general  state  grants  to  pri- 
vate educational  institutions.  By  the  time  these  allocations 
ended  in  1921,  the  Institute  had  benefited  from  more  than 
$800,000  in  state  funds. 

To  replace  the  state  money,  WPI  needed  to  increase  its 
$1.1  million  endowment  by  $1  million.  But  that  would  just 
maintain  the  status  quo;  to  pull  itself  out  of  a  period  of 
stagnation  and  prepare  for  the  future,  the  college  would 
need  an  additional  $1  million. 

A  fund-raising  campaign  was  launched,  which  drew 
support  from  nearly  90  percent  of  alumni.  A  major  incen- 
tive was  a  challenge  grant  of  $350,000  from  the  General 
Education  Fund,  created  by  John  D.  Rockefeller  with  the 
intention  of  increasing  teachers'  salaries  across  the 
country.  To  receive  the  funds,  the  college  had  to  raise 
$650,000 — a  goal  it  ultimately  achieved. 

About  $375,000  was  accrued  via  a  novel  fund-raising 
vehicle  called  the  industrial  sustaining  scholarship. 
Through  this  program,  a  company,  with  a  gift  of 
$10,000,  could  create  a  scholarship  that  gave  it  the 
right  to  name  an  employee  or  the  child  of  an  em- 
ployee on  a  yearly  basis  to  attend  WPI  tuition  free. 

In  all,  more  than  $1.5  million  was  raised  in  the 
brief  campaign.  While  well  short  of  the  $2  million 
goal,  the  drive  got  the  Institute  out  of  trouble, 
bridged  the  gap  created  by  the  loss  of  the  state 
grants,  and  brought  the  value  of  the  endowment 
to  more  than  $2  million  by  1922. 

But  more  important,  the  campaign  highlighted 
the  vital  importance  of  the  endowment  to  the  on- 
going success  and  continuing  growth  of  the  Insti- 
tute. It  also  set  a  new  standard  for  financial 
support  for  alumni  and  friends  of  the  half- 
century-old  institution  at  the  same  time  it 
laid  the  groundwork  for  the  next  75  years 
and  the  next  $116  million  of  endow- 
ment growth. 

— Michael  Dorsey 


WPI's  Endowment:  1865  to  1992  (in  millions) 

Methods  for  reporting  the  value  of  the  WPI  endowment  have  varied  over  the  years. 
The  values  used  in  this  graph  for  the  years  1953  to  1992  are  market  values.  The 
figures  for  the  years  1936  to  1952  are  book  values.  The  values  for  the  years  prior 
to  1936  were  taken  from  a  graph  in  Herbert  Taylor's  Seventy  Years  of  the 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  and  are  most  likely  book  values. 


90 


80 


70 


60 


50 


40 


30 


20 


10 


1865   1870  1875  1880   1885   1890   1895   1900   1905   1910   1915   1920  1925  1930   1935  1940   1945   1950   1955   1960   1965  1970   1975   1980   1985  1990  1992 


WPI  Journal 


29 


William  F.  McCarron, 
left,  and  James  R. 
Buchholz  of  Prime, 
Buchholz  &  Associates 
Inc.,  which  serves  the 
Institute  as  an  inde- 
pendent endowment 
management 
consultant. 


than  3,000  institutions  of  higher  education.  Like  other  col- 
leges and  university  divisions  that  specialize  in  science  and 
engineering,  WPI  has  higher  operating  expenses  than  most 
liberal  arts  colleges  due  to  the  high  cost  of  buying  and 
maintaining  the  state-of-the-art  laboratory  and  computer 
equipment  needed  to  teach  students  and  conduct  research 
in  technical  disciplines. 

Until  recently,  the  spending  rule  was  applied  only  to 
board-designated  endowment.  But  in  1992  the  administra- 
tion recommended — and  the  trustees  approved — applying 
the  rule  also  to  the  true  endowment,  where  it  can  legally 
do  so.  When  donors  stipulate  that  all  income  from  their 
gifts  be  spent  for  specified  purposes,  the  trustees  have 
no  choice  but  to  comply.  Only  about  2  percent  of  the  re- 
stricted endowment  is  covered  by  such  stipulations,  Gailey 
says.  Over  time,  he  notes,  inflation  eats  away  at  those 
funds,  diminishing  their  purchasing  power.  Because  it  is 
based  on  the  need  to  account  first  for  inflation,  the  spend- 
ing rule  will  now  help  preserve  the  real  value  of  the  remain- 
der of  the  true  endowment  over  time. 

Formalizing  the  spending  rule  and  diversifying  the 
management  of  the  endowment  were  important  first 
steps  toward  a  comprehensive  strategy  for  growing  the 
endowment  in  a  sound  and  secure  manner.  The  stage  for 
the  next  move  down  that  path  was  set  in  the  late  1970s  and 
early  1980s.  As  the  endowment  enjoyed  a  steady  rate  of 
growth,  consideration  was  given  to  the  idea  of  separating 
its  management  from  the  other  duties  of  the  Budget  and 
Finance  Committee.  With  the  increasing  size  of  the  endow- 
ment (see  graph,  page  29)  and  the  growing  complexity  of 
the  field  of  financial  management,  it  was  becoming  clear 
that  the  endowment  required  more  time,  attention  and  in- 
put— and  from  a  wider  circle  of  people. 

For  while  the  creation  of  the  Budget  and  Finance  Com- 
mittee had,  in  theory,  spread  the  responsibility  for  super- 


vising the  endowment  management  over  a  reasonably 
large  team,  in  reality  that  oversight  responsibility  still 
generally  defaulted  to  just  two  people:  Hossack  and  David 
E.  Lloyd  (then  the  Institute's  treasurer),  the  two  men  who 
had  the  greatest  interest  in — and  accountability  for — the 
endowment. 

By  the  mid-1980s,  when  the  Campaign  for  Excellence, 
the  Institute's  most  recent  fund-raising  drive,  was 
launched,  the  idea  of  creating  a  separate  entity  to  over- 
see the  investment  of  endowment  funds  had  earned  the 
general  support  of  the  board,  of  the  Institute's  new  presi- 
dent, Jon  C.  Strauss,  and  of  Ribeiro,  its  newly  installed 
treasurer  and  vice  president  for  business  affairs. 

Strauss  had  been  a  chief  financial  officer  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Pennsylvania  and  at  the  University  of  Southern  Cali- 
fornia at  Los  Angeles.  When  he  came  to  WPI  in  1985  he  had 
a  deep  understanding  of  the  role  endowment  plays  in  the 
long-term  welfare  of  a  college  or  university.  Ribeiro,  who 
had  worked  with  endowment-like  funds  at  several  non- 
profit organizations  in  Worcester,  also  held  strong  views 
on  the  importance  of  managing  the  investment  process. 
While  Hossack,  Strauss  and  Ribeiro  were  not  always  in 
accord  concerning  technical  aspects  of  investing,  they 
shared  a  passionate  belief  in  the  importance  of  protecting 
the  endowment  from  erosion  by  inflation. 

In  1986  the  Board  of  Trustees  created  the  Investment 
Committee — separate  from  Budget  and  Finance — to  have 
fiduciary  oversight  over  the  management  of  endowment 
funds.  Hossack  served  as  its  chairman  until  September 
1992,  when  he  turned  the  reins  over  to  F.  William  Marshall 
Jr.  and  assumed  the  post  of  vice  chairman. 

As  the  Campaign  for  Excellence  concluded  on  Nov.  11, 
1990,  adding  about  $15.4  million  of  its  $63.7  million  total 
to  the  endowment,  Gailey,  in  consultation  with  the  Invest- 
ment Committee  and  Strauss,  was  deeply  engrossed  in  the 


30 


Winter  1993 


110 


100 


g  90 


9  80 


SS  70 


60 


work  of  writing  a  policy  that  established  clear  investment 
objectives  and  goals  for  WPI. 

In  separate  interviews,  Hossack,  Strauss,  Ribeiro  and 
Gailey  expressed  similar  sentiments  about  endowment 
management,  sentiments  that  are  reflected  in  the  policy 
Gailey  drafted.  All  noted  that  preserving  the  endowment's 
purchasing  power  is  essential.  But  they  also  stressed  the 
need  to  take  more  risks  to  produce  a  better  return  on 
endowment  investments. 

Strauss,  who  calls  a  strategy  that  encompasses  both 
objectives  "prudently  aggressive,"  believes  that  the  signifi- 
cant growth  of  the  endowment  during  the  1980s  (see  graph 
below)  may  have  created  a  false  sense  of  security.  "If  you 
see  that  we've  got  a  $1 18  million  endowment  today  and 
compare  it  to  the  $50  million  endowment  we  had  just  10 
years  ago  it  looks  pretty  dramatic,"  he  says.  "But  when  you 
look  at  it  in  the  context  of  an  operation  of  our  size,  with  a 
$75  million  operating  budget  and  a  $150  million  physical 
plant,  it  doesn't  seem  all  that  large."  It  is  also  important, 
Strauss  notes,  to  compare  WPI's  endowment  to  those  of 
other  high-quality  colleges  and  universities  (see  table). 

A  fundamental  issue  that  faced  Gailey  and  the  Invest- 
ment Committee  as  the  policy  was  being  drafted  was  how 
much  of  the  endowment  should  be  invested  in  three  broad 
classes  of  assets:  equities  (stocks),  fixed-income  instru- 
ments (bonds  and  U.S.  treasuries,  for  example),  and  spe- 
cialized investments  (such  as  real  estate  and  venture 
capital).  The  resulting  investment  equation,  they  knew, 
would  have  to  meet  Strauss'  prudently  aggressive  test. 

The  members  of  the  Investment  Committee  decided 
the  Institute  would  need  a  disinterested  advisor  if  it  were 
to  effectively  monitor  and  hone  this  and  other  investment 
practices  and  strategies.  They  realized  that  for  the  most 
part,  the  outside  managers  then  employed  to  manage  en- 
dowment assets  could  not  act  in  that  capacity,  since  some 
were  also  responsible  for  investing  part  of  the  WPI  portfo- 
lio, while  others  were  hired  solely  to  provide  comparative 
reports  on  the  performance  of  the  various  managers. 


Growth  of  WPI's  Endowment, 
Decade  by  Decade:  1953  to  1992 


50 


1953-62 


1963-72 


1973-82 


1983-92 


Endowment  Growth 

1975  to  1990 

for  WPI  and  12  Other  Private  Colleges  and  Universities 


Market  Value  of  Endowment 

(in  millions) 

1975  1980  1985  1990 


Liberal  Arts  Colleges 


Bowdoin 39.1  49.9 94.8 151.7 

Bucknell 28.0 37.5 62.2 98.2 

Colgate 23.8 34.5 69.8 136.0 

Middlebury 31.0 62.0 128.4 227.8 

Mt.  Holyoke 41.4 58.2 96.8 180.0 

Trinity 29.7 43.0 74.1 137.4 

Engineering  and  Science  Institutions 

Caltech 142.1  ....198.4 275.9. 

Carnegie-Mellon  ...103.4  ....119.2 193.5. 

Lehigh 53.2 61.9 130.1 . 

Rensselaer 78.2 93.6 144.6. 

Rochester  Institute 

of  Technology 63.1 59.5 91.2 165.8 

Rice 187.1  ...  342.1 609.3  ..1,068.6 

WPI 25.2  ....38.1 64.9  ....98.3 

Source:  Council  for  Financial  Aid  to  Education 


.467.0 
.299.2 
.260.4 
.230.2 


One  exception  was  the  firm  of  Prime,  Buchholz  &  Asso- 
ciates Inc.  of  Portsmouth,  N.H.  Prime,  Buchholz  was  then 
providing  quarterly  reports  to  the  Institute  on  the  perfor- 
mance of  its  endowment  investments.  Because  of  the 
company's  expertise  and  experience  with  college  endow- 
ments, WPI  in  the  spring  of  1991  chose  the  firm  to  act  as 
its  independent  endowment  management  consultant. 

With  a  staff  of  six  professionals,  Prime,  Buchholz  is  a 
small,  highly  focused  specialist.  Now  in  its  fifth  year,  the 
firm  is  a  consultant  to  48  nonprofit  institutions  that  col- 
lectively hold  more  than  $3  billion  in  assets;  60  percent  of 
the  firm's  revenue  is  derived  from  its  work  for  colleges  and 
universities.  Founders  Jon  L.  Prime  and  James  R.  Buchholz 
are  former  university  chief  financial  officers;  each,  in  fact, 
once  served  as  the  CFO  at  Rochester  Institute  of  Technol- 
ogy. Prime  was  also  vice  president  of  Swarthmore  College 
and  St.  Louis  University,  while  Buchholz  is  former  vice 
chancellor  of  Washington  University  in  St.  Louis  and  vice 
president  of  the  University  of  Missouri  System. 

"There's  been  an  evolution  in  the  history  of  the  way 
boards  have  managed  endowments,"  Buchholz  says.  "Many 
years  ago  they  were  primarily  focused  on  the  maintenance 
of  nominal  value.  But  as  inflation  started  ravaging  institu- 
tions in  the  '60s,  '70s  and  '80s,  they  became  more  and  more 
interested  in  the  maintenance  of  the  real  dollar  values." 

Buchholz  says  there  wasn't  much  known  about  the  per- 
formance of  endowment  funds  in  higher  education  until  the 
mid-1980s  when  the  first  substantive  report  on  the  subject, 
Improving  Endowment  Management,  was  published  by  the 
Association  of  Governing  Boards.  Jon  Prime  was  a  principal 
contributor  to  that  study,  which  measured  the  endowment 
performance,  over  five  years,  of  23  sample  institutions  and 


WPI  Journal 


31 


then  compared  those  figures  with  national  averages  for  col- 
leges and  universities. 

The  study  found  considerable  variation  in  performance 
among  the  institutions  studied.  When  the  authors  dug 
deeper  to  find  the  causes  of  that  variation,  they  discovered 
that  the  better-performing  endowments  were  "more  disci- 
plined, more  systematic — they  worked  harder  at  it," 
Buchholz  says.  The  authors  listed  six  major  characteristics 
that  distinguished  the  more  successful  funds.  At  those  in- 
stitutions, the  fiduciaries  had 

•  articulated  what  they  were  trying  to  accomplish  and  writ- 
ten down  their  objectives. 

•  set  a  spending  rate  that  took  into  account  the  need  to 
maintain  the  purchasing  power  of  the  fund. 

•  decided  how  much  volatility  they  were  comfortable  with. 

•  looked  at  historic  rates  of  return  for  different  classes  of 
assets  and  decided  how  much  of  their  funds  would  be  al- 
located to  each. 

•  chosen  managers  only  after  they'd  decided  on  asset  allo- 
cation, and  selected  those  managers  based  on  excellence, 
not  on  historic  affiliation  or  proximity  to  the  institution. 

•  and  measured  progress  toward  their  own  objectives  and 
compared  their  performance  to  that  of  other  institutions 
doing  similar  things  with  their  investments. 


An  endowment  says  an  institution  "is  here  to  stay," 
says  former  WPI  treasurer  Joaquim  Ribeiro  '58. 


Providing  a  Framework  for  Investing 


Editor's  Note:  On  May  15,  1991,  the  Board  of  Trustees  approved  a  formal  policy  to  guide  the  In- 
stitute in  investing  the  assets  that  collectively  make  up  the  endowment.  The  board  had  previ- 
ously passed  a  separate  policy  providing  guidance  on  considering  social  concerns  in  making 
investments.  Both  policies  are  reprinted  here  in  their  entirety. 


Investment  Policy 

By  resolution,  the  Board  of  Trustees  of 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute,  on  recom- 
mendation of  the  Investment  Committee, 
has  adopted  the  following  investment  objec- 
tives for  the  Institute's  endowment: 

Investment  Objective 

Recognizing  the  significance  of  the  Insti- 
tute's endowment  in  providing  a  critical 
margin  of  financial  support  for  its  long-term 
academic  programs  and  general  operation, 
the  Board  of  Trustees  assigns  a  high  priority 
to  the  productive  management  of  endow- 
ment assets.  As  a  minimum,  it  is  the  objec- 
tive of  the  Institute  to  preserve  the  real 
principal  value  of  its  endowment.  It  is  hoped 
that  prudent  investment  management  and 
continuing  development  efforts  will  enhance 
growth  beyond  this  minimum  objective. 
The  endowment  is  to  be  managed  for 


total  return,  with  a  stated  percentage  of  to- 
tal market  value  used  annually  towards  the 
Institute's  budget.  Such  a  policy  will  allow 
for  the  greatest  investment  flexibility,  and 
for  growth  over  the  long  term  of  the  endow- 
ment's contribution  to  the  Institute's  operations. 

Asset  Allocation  and  Spending  Policy 

As  the  maintenance  of  the  endowment  value 
in  both  real  and  nominal  terms  is  best  ac- 
complished by  a  significant  equity  alloca- 
tion in  the  overall  portfolio,  it  is  expected 
that  the  long-term  asset  allocation  of  the  en- 
dowment will  be  approximately  60  percent 
equity,  35  percent  fixed-income,  and  5  per- 
cent specialized  investments.  The  Invest- 
ment Committee  may  authorize  asset  allo- 
cation as  deemed  prudent.  It  is  recognized, 
however,  that  variation  from  the  long-term 
policy  reducing  equity  exposure  can  be  det- 
rimental to  the  university's  long-term  objec- 


tives of  spending  and  endowment  growth. 

The  spending  level  from  endowment 
assets  is  critical  to  the  long-term  mainte- 
nance of  real  endowment  value.  Therefore, 
the  Institute  adopted  a  policy  of  spending 
5.5  percent  of  the  average  unit  market 
value  at  close  (June  30)  for  the  previous 
two  fiscal  years.  Such  a  policy  allows  for 
reasonable  predictability  of  income  avail- 
able for  current  operations;  allows  for  a 
gradual,  steady  growth  of  the  endowment's 
support  of  the  Institute's  operation;  and 
minimizes  the  probability  of  invading  en- 
dowment principal  over  the  long  term. 

As  a  general  objective,  the  Investment 
Committee  expects  this  spending  rule  to 
be  funded  by  no  less  than  85  percent  from 
earnings.  Therefore,  the  sale  of  securities 
will  not  be  necessary  for  more  than  15  per- 
cent of  the  spending  rule. 


32 


Winter  1993 


Investment  Committee  chair  William  F.  Marshall  is 
helping  chart  a  course  for  the  endowment's  future. 


That  was  precisely  the  kind  of  methodical  approach 
Gailey  had  outlined  in  the  Institute's  new  policy  statement 
(see  box  below).  The  statement  was  adopted  by  the  trust- 
ees in  May  1991,  shortly  before  Prime,  Buchholz  came  on 
board  as  an  independent  consultant.  Since  then,  the  firm, 
along  with  the  Investment  Committee  and  the  administra- 
tion, has  been  working  to  implement  the  policy. 

Over  the  long  term,  the  policy  calls  for  the  allocation  of 
60  percent  of  the  endowment  assets  in  equities,  35  percent 
in  fixed-income  vehicles  and  5  percent  in  specialized  in- 
vestments. The  Investment  Committee  has  been  working 
to  realign  existing  endowment  investments  to  meet  those 
goals.  At  the  end  of  1992,  the  endowment  was  about  54  per- 
cent invested  in  the  equity  sector,  40  percent  in  the  fixed- 
income  sector  and  6  percent  in  specialized  investments. 

Each  broad  asset  class  can  be  further  divided  into  a 
number  of  investment  categories,  all  of  which  have  associ- 
ated risks  and  potential  for  return.  "There's  no  single  for- 
mula for  spreading  assets  among  different  classes — one 
guaranteed  to  eliminate  risk  and  produce  high  returns," 
Gailey  says.  "But  like  any  investor,  WPI,  by  understanding 
its  own  tolerance  for  risk,  applying  judgment  and  paying 
attention  to  historic  performance  trends,  can  make  in- 
formed decisions." 


Investment  Management  Evaluation 

The  Investment  Committee  is  authorized  to 
engage  investment  managers  for  the  direct 
management  of  the  Institute's  endowment 
assets.  By  such  action,  the  board  expects 
to  acquire  expertise  in  investment  manage- 
ment, which  will  benefit  the  Institute's  long- 
term  endowment  growth.  Secondarily,  such 
delegation  will  provide  for  continuity  in  en- 
dowment management  despite  periodic 
personnel  changes  in  board  or  Investment 
Committee  composition,  which  will  enable 
emphasis  upon  long-term  objectives  rather 
than  short-term  or  ad-hoc  decisions. 

The  investment  managers  will  have  dis- 
cretion with  regard  to  individual  asset  se- 
lection, although  portfolio  variability  of 
return  should  be  minimized  through  pru- 
dent diversification,  both  among  individual 
assets  and  by  asset  class.  The  Investment 
Committee  will  review  the  investment 
manager's  time-weighted  returns  vs.  stock 
and  investment  style.  Over  a  typical  market 
cycle  of  three  to  five  years,  the  investment 
manager  is  expected  to  outperform  the 
broad  market  indices  (i.e.,  S&P  500,  Shear- 
son  Lehman  Government/Corporate  Bond 
Index,  etc.)  and  exceed  the  median  of  com- 
parable investment  universes.  Investment 


performance  data  will  be  provided  to  the 
Investment  Committee  through  quarterly 
reports  and  meetings  with  the  invest- 
ment manager  as  deemed  necessary. 

Policy  on  Investments 
and  Social  Concerns 

The  investment  of  institutional  funds  to 
reflect  social,  moral  or  political  interests 
has  become  an  issue  of  widespread  con- 
cern throughout  the  United  States.  Uni- 
versities, in  particular,  have  struggled 
with  the  question  of  what  is  appropriate 
in  this  regard  while  still  recognizing  their 
basic  long-term  responsibilities  as  educa- 
tional institutions.  Answers  are  not  easy; 
the  whole  subject  is  complex  and  highly 
controversial.  Summarized  below  is  a 
statement  of  policy  on  this  issue: 

1.  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute, 
through  its  Board  of  Trustees,  has  fidu- 
ciary responsibility  for  the  assets  of  the 
Institute  and  the  investment  of  Institute 
funds.  It  has  been,  and  remains,  policy 
that  this  fiduciary  responsibility  is  best 
satisfied  by  investing  funds  to  maximize 
their  total  return  and  then  employing  this 
return  to  promote  the  primary  purposes 


of  the  Institute.  This  policy  recognizes  the 
Institute's  basic  responsibility  to  its  pri- 
mary functions  of  teaching  and  research; 
it  also  respects  the  special  fiduciary  and 
ethical  responsibility  of  the  Board  of  Trust- 
ees for  prudent  investment  of  Institute 
funds  for  the  educational  purposes  of  the 
institution. 

2.  The  Institute,  as  an  investor  and 
shareholder,  supports  affirmative  action, 
equal  opportunity  and  similar  policies  re- 
flecting societal  values.  The  Institute  recog- 
nizes that,  as  an  institution  in  society 
devoted  to  the  search  for  and  teaching  of 
truth,  it  bears  a  responsibility  in  its  invest- 
ments to  attempt  to  influence  corporations 
engaged  in  practices  contrary  to  the  self- 
evident  truths  of  individual  human  liberty 
and/or  the  good  of  mankind. 

3.  Ownership  of  investments  and  action 
on  shareholder  resolutions  will  be  consid- 
ered case  by  case  by  the  President's  Advi- 
sory Committee  on  Investments  and  Social 
Responsibilities  to  encourage  corporate  re- 
sponsibility to  employees,  customers  and 
society  in  general.  The  recommendation  of 
the  advisory  committee  will  be  transmitted 
to  the  trustee  Budget  and  Finance  Commit- 
tee for  review  and  possible  action. 


WPI  Journal 


33 


a  tomorrow. 


In  1992  the  Investment  Committee  focused  a  good  deal 
of  its  energies  on  the  equity  category,  studying  different 
models  for  selecting  the  best  mix  of  stock  classifications 
for  WP1.  One  characteristic  they  chose  for  sorting  out  po- 
tential stocks  is  called  "market  cap,"  or  the  dollar  value 
(capitalization)  of  each  stock.  The  market  cap  is  calculated 
by  multiplying  the  number  of  outstanding  shares  by  the  cur- 
rent market  price  of  a  single  share. 

Large-cap  stocks — those  issued  by  big  companies — 
tend  to  pay  regular  dividends  and  exhibit  less  volatility  in 
price.  Small-cap  stocks,  issued  by  smaller  "growth  compa- 
nies," offer  investors  the 
greatest  potential  for  price 
appreciation,  but  tend  to 

Nplow  their  profits  back  into 
the  business  rather  than 
act  to  the  students  and       paying  dividends.  For  inves- 
the  faculty,  the  endow-       tors  who  wish t0  shield 
.  ,,       ,  their  money  from  the  ups 

ment  is  the  college  s  most       and  downs  o{  the  vs 

important  asset  because        economy— and  benefit  from 

.,  .  ,       ,      .    ,  ,        growth  in  other  countries — 

it  provides  for  today  and       r .      ..     ,  .    ,     „ 
r  J  international  stocks  offer  a 

ensures  that  there  will  be       good  alternative. 

With  those  categories  in 
mind,  the  committee,  under 
chairman  Marshall's  direc- 
tion, began  a  review  of  cur- 
rent fund  managers  and  a 
search  for  new  managers 
with  specialized  skills  in  each  asset  class.  "Historically,  the 
cocktail  wisdom  among  fiduciaries  was  that  manager  selec- 
tion was  where  90  percent  of  the  value  was  added," 
Buchholz  says.  "But  the  research  now  is  rather  conclusive 
that  the  majority  of  the  return  is  driven  by  asset  allocation. 
Of  course,  you  have  to  be  properly  represented  by  invest- 
ment managers  capable  of  making  the  best  possible  day-to- 
day buy-and-sell  decisions,  but  asset  allocation  is  going  to 
determine  the  outcome. 

"The  highest  and  best  service  a  board  can  give  an  insti- 
tution is  making  policy  decisions — about  what  they're  try- 
ing to  accomplish  and  which  assets  are  going  to  do  that  for 
them,"  Buchholz  adds.  "So,  in  a  way,  this  kind  of  discipline, 
which  colleges  have  increasingly  been  following,  enhances 
the  board's  role  and  its  effectiveness  by  getting  the  board 
members  focused  on  policy." 

Buchholz  says  his  firm  believes  that  any  investor's  best 
opportunity  for  long-term  capital  appreciation  lies  in  hav- 
ing a  substantial  portion  of  its  assets  invested  in  diversified 
stocks.  "Years  ago  diversification  meant  that  rather  than 
having  10  equities  in  the  account,  you  had  maybe  20,  30  or 
40,  and  that  instead  of  10  bonds,  you  had  maybe  20  or  30. 
Now  we're  talking  about  multiple  asset  classes  that  move 
across  time  at  different  tempos,  and  about  having  multiple 
economies  represented  in  a  portfolio." 

Two  decades  ago,  the  U.S.  economy  represented  about 
two-thirds  of  the  world's  capitalization;  now  it's  one-third, 
he  says.  That  change  reflects  the  growth  in  other  econo- 


mies around  the  world,  rather  than  the  shrinking  of  the 
U.S.  economy.  Because  of  that  shift,  American  investors 
are  no  longer  insulated,  as  they  once  might  have  been — or 
thought  they  were — from  the  impacts  of  world  events,  a 
strong  argument  for  "enhancing  our  concept  of  diversifica- 
tion," Buchholz  says. 

"With  diversification,  you're  seeking  to  put  dissimilar 
ingredients  into  an  overall  structure,  so  that  when  volatil- 
ity strikes  one  asset  class,  it  won't  necessarily  hit  the  oth- 
ers. You  don't  want  asset  classes  moving  in  the  same 
direction  at  once.  If  one  is  heading  south,  you  want  to 
have  another  one  headed  north." 

Investment  Committee  chairman  Marshall,  who  has 
been  a  bank  president  and  a  chief  executive  officer,  says 
he  shares  Buchholz's  views  on  the  importance  of  sound 
policy  and  discipline.  "Next  to  the  students  and  the  fac- 
ulty," he  says,  "the  endowment  is  the  college's  most  impor- 
tant asset  because  it  provides  for  today  and  ensures  that 
there  will  be  a  tomorrow.  People  and  organizations  that 
have  contributed  their  money  to  WPI  have  a  right  to  know 
that  it's  going  to  be  managed  wisely  and  carefully." 

The  product  of  that  wise  and  careful  investing  should 
be  a  "performance  that  is  considerably  superior  to  the 
major  indexes,"  Marshall  says.  [WPI  uses  the  Standard  & 
Poor's  500  Index  to  measure  the  performance  of  its  equity 
managers  and  the  Lehman  Brothers'  Government  Corporate 
Intermediate  Bond  Index  as  a  yardstick  for  its  fixed-income 
managers.]  "I  am  purposely  setting  a  high  standard  of  per- 
formance. And  I  know  the  committee  is  excited  about  the 
prospect  of  what  that  standard  can  mean  for  WPI." 

Marshall  has  scheduled  six  meetings  in  1993  for  the 
Investment  Committee,  though  the  group  may  well  try  to 
squeeze  in  a  few  more,  he  notes.  Since  each  meeting  runs 
about  three  hours,  that  represents  a  major  commitment 
of  time  and  energy  for  trustees  who  sit  on  the  committee, 
especially  those  who  must  travel  to  Worcester  from  some 
distance.  It  also  represents  a  financial  commitment,  since 
WPI  does  not  reimburse  its  trustees  for  their  time  and 
travel  expenses. 

Marshall,  an  alumnus  of  Washington  University  who 
became  involved  with  WPI  when  he  was  president  and 
chief  executive  officer  of  Shawmut  Worcester  County 
Bank,  says,  "I  believe  strongly  that  education  is  our  future. 
So  this  is  an  opportunity  for  me  to  make  a  contribution  by 
helping  an  outstanding  educational  institution." 

That's  a  common  sentiment  among  the  trustees  with 
which  he  works,  Buchholz  says.  "The  intent  of  these 
boards  is  to  do  good — to  add  value,"  he  notes.  "What  has 
become  evident  in  the  last  15  or  20  years  is  that  those  that 
are  successful  in  the  area  of  investments  rely  on  some- 
thing more  than  just  the  intent  to  do  good.  It's  increasingly 
apparent  that  there's  a  discipline  they  can  follow  that  will 
enhance  the  probability  of  long-term  success.  That's  the 
track  WPI  is  on." 

A  former  newspaper  editor,  Diane  Benison  has  written  sev- 
eral articles  for  the  Journal.  Her  most  recent  stories  explored 
the  world  of  total  quality  management. 


34 


Winter  1993 


INPUT 


The  Endowment:  Some  Cold,  Hard  Facts 


While  it  is  gratifying  to  see  the 
rapid  growth  of  the  WPI  endow- 
ment— particularly  in  the  past 
two  decades — and  to  have  played  a  role  in 
that  success  during  the  most  recent  decade, 
there  are  several  points  I'd  encourage  read- 
ers of  this  magazine  to  keep  in  mind: 
First:  It's  dangerous  to  measure  one's 
progress  against  oneself.  For  example,  our 
$118  million  endowment,  compared  solely 
to  its  value  in  times  past,  might  suggest 
that  WPI  is  rich.  But  it  is  essential  that  we 
index  that  value  against  the  endowments 
of  peer  institutions  with  whom  we  com- 
pete for  students  (see  table). 

Prospective  students — and  their  par- 
ents— have  become  considerably  more 
discerning  over  the  years.  There  was  a 
time  when  most  colleges,  including  WPI, 
attracted  students  from  within  a  relatively 
small  radius  of  their  campuses.  Transpor- 
tation was  a  more  important  limiting  crite- 
rion than  creature  comforts  (read  campus 
center,  athletic/exercise  facilities,  modern 
residence  halls,  and  so  on). 

Today,  what  most  people  educated  in 
that  era  would  call  "frills"  figure  more 
prominently  in  the  attractiveness  equa- 
tion. And  for  all  but  a  relative  handful  of 
students,  WPI  is,  in  fact,  a  "home  away 
from  home."  (Something  on  the  order  of  5 
percent  of  our  students  commute  these 
days.)  Building  and  operating  such  facili- 
ties places  a  growing  burden  on  our  oper- 
ating budget  and  depends  mightily  on  in- 
come earned  through  endowment — espe- 
cially unrestricted  endowment. 
Second:  It  is  common  knowledge  that  his- 
torically, most  engineering  and  science 
students  have  come  from  families  with 
modest  financial  resources.  In  generations 
past,  this  often  meant  children  of  indus- 
trial workers— skilled  and  unskilled.  More 
often  than  not,  many  of  those  parents  had 
little  or  no  college  education. 

While  the  level  of  formal  education 
possessed  by  our  WPI  parents  is  far 
greater  today  than  it  was  a  generation  ago 
(virtually  all  are  college  educated;  nearly  a 
fifth  of  WPI's  current  freshmen  have  par- 


ents who  are  school 
teachers),  their  relative 
financial  position  is  un- 
changed. What  all  this 
translates  into  is  that 
today's  students  must 
acquire  increasing  levels 
of  "outside"  financial 
support  if  they  are  to 
come  here — or  to  an 
institution  like  WPI. 

Indeed,  virtually  all 
private  engineering  and 
science  institutions 
(Cooper  Union  and  Rice 
University  are  notable 
exceptions,  with  both 
offering  "free"  or  sub- 
stantially reduced  tuition 
due  to  the  scale  of  their 
endowments)  find  that 
about  seven  out  of  every  10  of  their  stu- 
dents require  aid — and  lots  of  it!  To  put  this 
issue  in  a  context  we  can  all  understand,  it 
costs  WPI  on  the  order  of  $10  million  in 
financial  aid  to  support  its  current  under- 
graduate population. 

If  that  cost  were  to  be  met  strictly  with 
earned  endowment  income  (while  still 
protecting  the  endowment  principle  from 
erosion  by  inflation),  we  would  need  an 
endowment  on  the  order  of  $150  million 
right  now.  But  that,  of  course,  would  also 
mean  that  anything  else  we  did — building 
or  substantially  modifying  facilities,  start- 
ing new  programs,  enhancing  maintenance 
allocations  (much  needed) — would  have  to 
come  from  on-going,  pervasive  fund  rais- 
ing. So,  unless  there  is  a  marked  change  in 
the  mix  of  high-need  to  no-  or  little-need 
candidates  seeking  a  science  and  engineer- 
ing education  and  who  could  be  attracted 
to  WPI,  our  resource  base  is  going  to  be 
pressed  to  more  than  its  limit. 

Third:  The  maintenance  of  currency  in 
science  and  engineering  programs  is  a  very 
expensive  business.  And  while  the  same 
can  be  said  for  medical  education,  a  will- 
ingness to  pay  for  a  high-quality  private 
undergraduate  education  is  invariably  bal- 


The  WPI  Endowment 

A  Comparison  to  Representative, 

Principally  Science  and  Technology  Institutions 

Endowment 
(in  millions} 

Total 
Enrollment 

Endowment 
Per  Student 

(in  thousands) 

Caltech 

546  

1,861 

293 

Carnegie-Mellon 

313 

7,261 

43 

Harvey  Mudd 

77  

578 

133 

Lehigh 

279  

6,732 

41 

MIT 

...1,442  

9,628 

150 

RPI 

237  

6,614 

36 

Rice 

...1,140  

4,239 

269 

Stevens 

47  

3,114 

15 

WPI 

107 

....3,902  

27 

Source:  Voluntary  Support  for  Higher  Education  199 
Council  for  Aid  to  Education 

', 

anced  against  the  debt  one  must  acquire 
to  obtain  it  and  one's  ability  to  pay  that 
debt  back  with  undue  pain.  It  is  clear  that 
the  realized  (or  perceived)  material  gains 
from  careers  in  science  and  technology  do 
not  match  those  of  careers  in  medicine. 

The  way  we  go  about  the  business  of 
educating  scientists  and  engineers  must  be 
examined  with  an  eye  to  cost  containment. 
Like  the  overwhelming  majority  of  our 
nation's  hospitals,  too  many  technical  col- 
leges and  engineering  and  science  colleges 
within  universities  are  headed  for  financial 
ruin.  We  must  apply  far  more  ingenuity  to 
tackling  this  issue  than  has  been  demon- 
strated in  the  last  20  years. 

How  we  deliver  our  science  and  engi- 
neering programs  must  become  as  impor- 
tant an  exercise  as  fund  raising  for  them 
has  been  these  past  several  years.  The 
question  is  how  to  do  it  in  a  way  that  will 
leave  these  programs  as  the  world's 
pacesetters — a  position  they've  enjoyed 
for  four  decades. 

Believe  me — WPI  has  a  long  way  to  go 
before  it  can  claim  to  be  "rich." 

— Donald  F.  Berth  '57 

Berth  is  vice  president  for  university  relations. 


WPI  Journal       35 


FINAL  WORD 


The  Rewards  are  Great— 

and  Immediate— 
for  Town  Manager  Norton  Bonaparte 


I  like  the  idea  of 
being  able  to 
make  things  hap- 
pen for  the  public 
good,"  says  Norton 
N.  Bonaparte  Jr.  75, 
town  manager  in 
Glenarden,  Md.,  who 
says  he  discovered 

his  passion  for  public  administration  while 
a  civil  engineering  student  at  WPI.  "My 
studies  were  focused  on  urban  planning," 
he  says.  "But  1  soon  discovered  it  was  the 
urban  environment — not  planning — that 
piqued  my  interest." 

Deciding  to  follow  a  career  in  public 
administration,  Bonaparte  earned  his 
M.RA.  at  the  Cornell  University  School  of 
Business.  Early  on  he  worked  in  Washing- 
ton, D.C.,  on  an  internship  at  the  Interna- 
tional City  Management  Association.  For 
four  years  he  was  an  administrative  assis- 
tant in  the  office  of  the  city  manager  in 
Grand  Rapids,  Mich.  And  in  1988  he  was 
named  town  manager  in  Glenarden.  He 
says  it  was  the  right  move.  "Every  morning 
when  1  wake  up,  I  can  hardly  wait  to  get  to 
the  office." 

Bonaparte  says  it  is  the  duty  of  a 
town  manager  to  make  sure  politicians' 


As  town  manager  of  Glenarden,  Md.,  Norton  Bonaparte  tries  to  take  the  politics 
out  of  local  government  and  see  that  the  promises  of  elected  officials  are  kept. 


promises  are  kept.  He  says  the  counsel- 
manager  form  of  government  evolved  in 
the  early  part  of  the  20th  century  in  re- 
sponse to  widespread  corruption  at  the 
local  government  level.  Today,  he  adds, 
city  or  town  managers  are  seen  as  people 
who  can  take  the  politics  out  of  the  man- 
agement of  government. 

"When  you  look  at  what  gets  a  person 
elected,"  he  says,  "it's  everything  from 
giving  good  speeches  to  kissing  babies 
to  having  a  firm  handshake.  But  those 
things  have  nothing  to  do  with  running 
a  government." 

In  Glenarden,  as  in  many  towns  and 
cities,  the  government  is  set  up  similar  to 
a  business,  Bonaparte  notes.  In  a  business, 
the  stockholders  elect  a  board  of  directors 
which,  in  turn,  appoints  a  president  to  run 
the  company.  In  government,  the  elected 
officials  set  policy  and  establish  an  agenda; 


they  then  hire  some- 
one to  manage  the 
day-to-day  operations 
of  the  government. 

As  town  manager, 
Bonaparte  says  he  is 
the  chief  administra- 
tor of  the  govern- 
ment. Most  govern- 
ment departments,  including  the  police 
and  the  public  works  department,  report 
to  him,  and  it  is  his  responsibility  to  pre- 
pare a  budget  for  the  council's  approval 
and  then  to  implement  that  budget 
through  his  administration  of  the  various 
departments.  In  essence,  he  add,  he  is 
the  practical  arm  of  local  government, 
and  Bonaparte  says  he  thrives  on  being 
the  muscle,  helping  to  turn  political  rheto- 
ric into  practical  reality. 

Bonaparte  starts  flexing  his  muscles 
daily  at  8  a.m.,  a  half  hour  before  the 
town  offices  open.  Always  on  a  tight 
schedule,  he  meets  frequently  with 
city  and  business  leaders  and  citizens' 
groups  to  address  their  concerns,  and 
attends  meetings  aimed  at  facilitating 
action  within  the  community  by  combin- 
ing the  efforts  of  businesses,  schools  and 
neighborhood  groups. 


36 


Winter  1993 


Bonaparte,  shown  here  at  a  town  meeting  with  Glenarden  Police  Chief  M.A.  Lewis,  left,  and  Mayor  Marvin 
Wilson,  says  he  enjoys  the  opportunity  his  job  affords  him  to  make  a  real  difference  at  the  local  level. 


"At  WPI,"  Bonaparte  says,  "I  was  chief 
justice  of  the  Campus  Hearing  Board.  That 
was  a  valuable  experience,  because  it 
taught  me  to  listen  to  and  take  into  con- 
sideration the  various  sides  of  each  case. 
That's  a  lesson  1  use  all  the  time  in  my  job 
today." 

Part  of  his  job  involves  overseeing  the 
operation  of  10  town  departments  that  are 
responsible  for  everything  from  filling  pot- 
holes to  supervising  major  renovations  in 
community  buildings  to  maintaining  town 
equipment.  While  he  spends  most  of  his 
time  helping  his  department  heads  solve 
problems  and  set  goals,  he  also  takes  re- 
sponsibility for  seeing  that  the  local  popu- 
lation is  served  as  efficiently  as  possible. 

"I  note  trends  in  population  and  try  to 
make  certain  we  have  enough  resources 
for  the  young  and  the  elderly,  as  well  as 
other  groups,"  he  says.  "Finding  the  best 
ways  to  adjust  and  anticipating  changes 


in  demographics  and  social  trends  are  im- 
portant concerns  for  a  town  manager." 

Because  much  of  his  time  is  spent 
speaking  and  writing,  Bonaparte  says  the 
most  important  skills  a  town  manager  can 
have  are  the  ability  to  get  along  with 
people  and  to  communicate  well  through 
the  spoken  and  the  written  word.  An  un- 
derstanding of  mathematics  is  also  use- 
ful for  deciphering  computer  data,  and 
a  knowledge  of  politics  can  be  helpful, 
although  the  post,  itself,  he  notes,  is  tech- 
nically nonpolitical. 

Bonaparte  says  he  likes  to  believe  what 
he  does  each  day  makes  a  difference.  The 
advantage  of  working  at  the  local  level,  he 
notes,  is  that  results  can  be  seen  right 
away.  If  the  streets  get  plowed,  a  town 
manager  is  a  hero.  If  they  don't,  he  or  she 
must  have  a  thick  skin,  because  the  phone 
will  ring  off  the  hook.  "Unfortunately,"  he 
says,  "people  may  not  tell  you  you're  doing 


a  good  job,  but  they'll  let  you  know  right 
off  the  bat  if  they  think  you  aren't." 

Although  his  decisions  may,  on  occa- 
sion, invite  criticism,  Bonaparte  enjoys 
working  in  local  government  because  it 
is  the  closest  a  public  servant  can  get  to 
the  people.  "It's  my  goal  to  make  things 
better,"  he  says.  "I've  worked  on  the  state 
and  federal  levels  and  the  local  level  is  the 
most  immediately  rewarding." 

Bonaparte  unabashedly  infects  his  staff 
with  his  enthusiasm  for  professionalism.  "I 
tell  them  our  role  is  to  serve,  but  not  as 
servants,"  he  says.  "I  explain  that  while  it 
is  said  residents  pay  our  salaries,  I  prefer 
to  focus  on  the  fact  that  they  pay  us  to 
perform  services.  Our  residents  are  our 
customers,  and  they  want  things  to  work 
properly." 

Before  deciding  to  accept  the  town 
manager's  post,  Bonaparte  drove  around 
Glenarden  on  weekends  assessing  the  resi- 
dents' attitudes  about  their  town.  "I  could 
tell  people  took  great  pride  in  the  area 
by  the  way  they  kept  up  their  yards  and 
houses.  It  made  me  want  to  become  a 
part  of  it,"  he  says. 

Glenarden,  once  strictly  residential, 
now  has  several  commercial  areas.  "We 
stand  for  quality  of  service  to  the  resi- 
dents, no  matter  how  the  character  of  the 
town  changes,"  Bonaparte  says.  "Glen- 
arden is  small,  but  has  the  same  problems 
as  larger  municipalities  because  it  is  part 
of  the  Washington  metropolitan  area.  So 
far,  the  town  has  met  change  well.  I  take 
great  pride  in  that." 

— Ruth  Trask 


v;?-4 


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WPI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCVI  NO.  2    SPRING  1993 


5 


19 


25 


CONTENTS 


The  Whole  World  in  Their  Hands   Diane  Benison 

In  an  increasingly  seamless  world,  it's  no  longer  enough  to  be 
a  competent  professional;  one  must  also  be  a  true  citizen  of 
the  world.  Here's  how  WPI  is  giving  tomorrow's  engineers, 
scientists  and  managers  a  global  perspective. 


The  United  Nations  of  WPI 

While  the  Institute's  students  travel  the  globe  to  learn  about  other 
cultures,  special  programs  on  campus  are  bringing  the  world  to 
WPI.  So  check  your  passport  and  fasten  your  seat  belt  as  we  tour 
the  Cultural  Festival  and  the  African  Marketplace. 


The  Law  of  the  Frontier  Michael  Dorsey 

Patent  law  is  dull,  right?  Not  according  to  WPI  alumni  who  work 
in  what's  been  called  the  hottest  area  of  legal  practice  today. 
What's  more,  an  engineering  or  science  degree  is  the  ideal  start 
for  this  challenging  and  creative  profession. 


DEPARTMENTS 

2     Input:  Globalization:  The  Next  Big  Wave.   Ronald  L.  Zarrella  71 

39  Investigations:  Playing  Matchmaker  to  Methane.   Michael  Dorsey 

40  Final  Word:  Powering  Up  the  Developing  World.   Ruth  Trash 


Front  Coven  Global  Program  Officer  Hossein  Hakim,  second  from  left,  with,  from  left, 
Naomi  E.  Carnegie  '93,  Jennifer  L.  Greenhalgh  '94  and  Michael  A.  Kaliski  '93.  Carnegie 
completed  an  Interactive  Qualifying  Project  in  San  Juan,  Puerto  Rico;  Greenhalgh  did  an 
IQP  in  Bangkok;  Kaliski  did  his  IQP  in  Venice.  The  photo  was  taken  inside  the  Mapparium, 
a  30-foot  stained  glass  globe  at  the  Boston  headquarters  of  the  Christian  Science  Publish- 
ing Society.  The  globe  was  completed  in  1935  and  shows  the  world  as  it  looked  then.  Story 
on  page  5.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock.  Opposite:  Pakamas  Tongcharoensirikul,  a  graduate 
student  in  chemistry,  performs  a  traditional  Thai  dance  known  as  the  Srinual  during  WPI's 
1993  Cultural  Festival.  More  photos  begin  on  page  19.  Photo  by  Janet  Woodcock.  Back 
Cover  More  than  5,000  graduates  and  their  guests  gathered  on  the  Quadrangle  for  WPI's 
125th  Commencement  on  May  22.  The  theme  of  this  year's  ceremony  was  "Engineering  and 
Science  Education;  A  Future  Agenda."  Photo  by  Michael  Dorsey. 


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Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  I 

•  Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock  •  Alumni  1 

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INPUT 


Globalization:  The  Next  Big  Wave 


By  Ronald  L.  Zarrella  71 


It's  difficult  to  pick  up  a  busi- 
ness or  economic  journal 
these  days  without  reading 
something  about  the  manage- 
ment of  global  marketing,  global 
technology,  global  manufacturing 
or  global  finance.  Globalization 
has  joined  total  quality  manage- 
ment as  one  of  the  most  written 
about  and  talked  about  subjects 
in  American  business  and  indus- 
try. And  as  with  TQM,  successful 
globalization  of  business  activi- 
ties will  be  a  fundamental  ele- 
ment of  competitive  survival 
for  the  world's  major  industrial 
companies  in  the  1990s. 

To  appreciate  why  this  is  so, 
one  need  only  look  at  America's 
changing  economic  role  in  the 
world.  In  constant  dollar  terms, 
the  world's  economy,  expressed 
as  total  Gross  Domestic  Product, 
was  $2  trillion  in  1970;  20  years  later,  it  was 
$15.7  trillion.  In  1970,  the  U.S.  economy 
was  $1  trillion,  fully  half  of  the  world's 
Gross  Domestic  Product.  By  1990 
it  had  dropped  to  a  third  of  the  world 
economy,  or  $5.4  trillion — still  an  enor- 
mous number,  but  with  considerably  less 
impact  than  it  had  two  decades  ago. 

What  has  happened  to  Japan,  our  larg- 
est economic  competitor?  In  1970  its  $200 
billion  economy  made  up  10  percent  of 
world  GDP.  But  by  1990,  it  had  grown  to 
$3.2  trillion,  exceeding  20  percent  of  world 
GDP  and  doubling  its  economic  influence. 
The  world's  third  largest  economy  belongs 
to  Germany.  Somewhat  surprisingly,  its 
relative  economic  strength  remained 
fairly  constant  over  that  same  20-year 
period,  constituting  around  10  percent 
of  world  GDP. 


Another  measure  of  relative  economic 
strength  is  exports.  This  has  been  an  area 
of  strength  for  the  U.S.,  where  exports 
grew  from  4  percent  of  GDP  in  1970  to  over 
7  percent  of  GDP  ($400  billion)  in  1990. 
Japan's  exports  remained  fairly  constant  at 
around  9  percent  of  GDP  over  that  20-year 
period  (though  they  actually  dropped  from 
a  high  of  11  percent  of  GDP  in  1980);  they 
reached  about  $300  billion  in  1990.  Ger- 
many is  the  champion  exporter,  with  25 
percent  of  GDP  ($410  million)  in  1990.  Of 
course,  net  exports  paint  a  much  different 
picture,  with  the  U.S.  running  a  significant 
negative  balance  of  trade  over  the  last 
decade,  and  Japan  and  Germany  running 
large,  positive  balances. 

The  last  measure  of  relative  economic 
strength  I'd  like  to  talk  about  is  productiv- 
ity. If  we  use  Gross  Domestic  Product  per 


worker  as  our  measure,  the 
U.S.  is  still  the  most  productive 
nation  in  the  world.  In  1990  we 
produced  $50,000  of  GDP  for 
every  worker,  compared  to 
$30,000  in  Japan  and  only 
$15,000  in  Germany.  But  our 
enormously  productive  farming 
industry  and  our  large  financial 
and  retail  institutions  distort 
this  measure  in  our  favor.  If  we 
look  just  at  manufacturing  pro- 
ductivity, the  Germans  are  10 
percent  more  productive  than 
we  are  and  the  Japanese  are  20 
percent  more  productive.  In  fact, 
the  Japanese  rate  of  productivity 
improvement  is  three  times  what 
ours  is  per  year,  although  that 
gap  is  narrowing. 

America  is  still  the  world's 
largest  economic  force  and  the 
world's  largest  market.  We're  an 
enormously  productive  people;  we  just 
don't  have  the  dominance  we  had  20  years 
ago.  We  have  to  learn  to  play  on  equal 
terms  with  our  economic  competitors. 
We're  no  longer  the  only  game  in  town. 
Many  of  us  don't  like  that,  but  those  of  us 
who  learn  to  do  business  in  this  new  inter- 
national economic  environment  will  be  the 
winners  of  the  next  decade. 

Perhaps  the  most  telling  measure  of 
industrial  globalization  is  the  percentage 
of  revenue  derived  from  outside  the  home 
country.  For  America's  100  largest  indus- 
trial companies,  the  percentage  of  non- 
U.S.  revenues  grew  from  14  percent  in 
1970  to  almost  40  percent  in  1990.  For 
Japan's  largest  companies,  the  percentage 
is  57  percent;  for  Germany's,  it  is  69  per- 
cent. Furthermore,  for  U.S.  companies, 
those  revenues  have  shifted  from  being 


SPRING  1993 


derived  largely  from  exports  to  being  de- 
rived largely  from  products  manufactured 
outside  the  country. 

This  last  phenomenon  is  supported  by 
a  15-fold  increase  in  investment  by  U.S. 
companies  manufacturing  outside  the  U.S. 
In  the  same  period,  however,  there  has 
been  a  30-fold  increase  in  foreign  manu- 
facturing investment  in  the  U.S.  Both  mea- 
sures accelerated  dramatically  in  the  last 
half  of  the  1980s. 

Consider  Bausch  &  Lomb.  As  late  as 
1985,  less  than  20  percent  of  our  revenues 
were  derived  from  businesses  outside  the 
U.S.  In  1992,  51  percent  of  our  $1.8  billion 
in  revenues  came  from  outside  the  U.S.  In 
1985,  7  percent  of  our  profit  was  derived 
outside  the  U.S.;  in  1992,  more  than  60  per- 
cent was.  In  1985,  more  than  80  percent  of 
our  products  sold  outside  the  U.S.  were 
exported  from  the  U.S.;  in  1992,  80  percent 
of  our  products  sold  outside  the  U.S.  were 
made  outside  the  U.S. 

This  shift  in  the  center  of  gravity  of  U.S. 
corporations  has  had  significant  implica- 
tions for  the  way  those  corporations  are 
organized  and  operated  and  for  the  kind  of 
people  who  operate  them.  "Think  globally, 
act  locally"  is  today's  catch  phrase  for  or- 
ganizational theory,  but  how  to  do  that 
effectively  is  the  subject  of  much  debate 
and  research.  It  is  dependent  on  many  fac- 
tors, like  the  uniformity  of  products,  the 
nature  and  cost  of  technology  develop- 
ment, the  location  of  core  competencies 
and,  probably  most  important,  the  corpo- 
rate cultures  involved. 

A  few  traditional  models  define  both 
ends  of  the  organizational  spectrum.  On 
one  end,  there  is  the  "global  company."  In 
the  global  company,  functions — finance, 
marketing,  manufacturing,  product  devel- 
opment and  so  on — are  managed  on  a 
worldwide  basis.  Sales  is  the  only  real  local 
function.  Communications  are  simple:  they 
flow  out  from  the  center  and  back  into  the 
center.  The  decision  chain  is  also  simple, 
with  all  key  strategic  decisions  being  made 
at  the  center.  Companies  organize  this  way 
because  it  is  efficient. 

Companies  that  have  traditionally  orga- 
nized globally  are  those  that  have  a  high 
technology  content,  that  are  very  capital 
intensive,  or  that  have  strong  global  brand 
names.  Japanese  companies  are  typically 
organized  globally,  as  are  the  giant  U.S. 
pharmaceutical  companies.  Coca-Cola  is 
organized  globally. 

The  other  end  of  the  organizational 
spectrum  is  the  multinational.  A  multina- 
tional is  organized  around  strong,  indepen- 


dent, self-contained  country  units.  The 
country  general  manager  is  the  strongest 
executive  in  the  corporation.  Marketing, 
manufacturing,  product  development  and 
finance  are  all  done  at  the  country  level. 
The  role  of  the  corporate  center  is,  simplis- 
tically,  to  collect  the  money  and  change 
the  country  management  when  there's  no 
money  to  collect. 

Companies  organize  this  way  because  it 
puts  decisions  closest  to  the  customer  and 
best  meets  the  needs  of  the  local  market. 
Many  of  America's  great  consumer  pack- 
aged-goods companies  and  food  compa- 
nies are  organized  as  multinationals. 
Unilever  is  a  good  example. 

Harvard  Business  School  professors 
Christopher  Bartlet  and  Sumantra  Ghoshol 
have  developed  the  concept  of  the  "trans- 
national company,"  which  they  described 
in  an  important  book  called  Managing 
Across  Borders.  In  a  transnational  com- 
pany, there  is  no  real  home  country  men- 
tality. A  transnational  tries  to  achieve  all 
the  efficiency  and  synergy  of  a  global  com- 
pany, with  all  the  local  responsiveness  of 
a  multinational.  The  structure  fits  with  the 
corporate  culture,  but  in  a  transnational, 
structure  is  less  important  than  the  operat- 
ing mechanisms  put  into  place  to  make  the 
organization  run. 

A  transnational  makes  the  best  use  of 
its  core  competencies  regardless  of  where 
in  the  world  they  are  located.  In  a  trans- 
national, employees  recognize  that,  while 
they  are  paid  to  perform  a  spe- 
cific job  in  a  specific  location, 
they  are  part  of  a  global  enter- 
prise. They  have  an  obligation 
to  learn  from  and  contribute  to 
that  global  enterprise,  so  they 
are  better  able  to  perform  their 
specific  jobs  in  their  specific 
locations.  The  transnational 
creates  an  environment  of 
continuous  global  learning. 
It  creates  a  series  of  networks 
within  the  organization  that  do 
the  work  of  the  organization. 

Advances  in  communica- 
tions have  made  transnational 
companies  possible;  in  fact, 
advanced  communications  are 
a  critical  requirement  for  them 
to  work  effectively.  Today, 
relevant  information  is  being 
made  available  on  a  real-time 
basis — and  deeper  into  these 
organizations  than  ever  before 
possible.  Teleconferencing, 
videoconferencing  and  local- 


area  networks  interconnected  on  a  world- 
wide basis  are  now  being  used  widely, 
avoiding  the  need  for  large  groups  of 
people  to  jump  on  planes  in  order  to  meet 
face  to  face. 

Networks  of  functional  managers  have 
worldwide  information  available  to  them. 
Product  managers  have  market  research 
on  new  and  existing  products  from  a  num- 
ber of  different  countries;  marketing  man- 
agers have  competitive  information  avail- 
able on  global  competitors;  financial  man- 
agers can  coordinate  currency  hedges  in 
multiple  locations  to  protect  a  corporate 
balance  sheet  line  item. 

The  strength  of  these  communication 
technologies  really  comes  into  play  in  glo- 
bal product  development.  Television  ad- 
vertisements for  the  Ford  Escort  trumpet 
it  as  the  "world  car."  Parts  of  it  are  manu- 
factured and  assembled  in  countries 
around  the  world,  with  final  assembly  in 
the  U.S.  At  Bausch  &  Lomb,  we've  devel- 
oped similar  "world  products"  by  learning 
to  meet  local  market  needs  from  a  com- 
mon technical  platform. 

We  make  a  product  called  Interplak. 
The  electromechanical  design  for  this 
home  plaque-removal  device  is  done  in 
the  U.S.;  the  ergonomic  design  is  done 
in  Japan.  The  batteries  are  supplied  from 
Japan,  the  motors  are  built  in  the  People's 
Republic  of  China,  the  charging  base  is 
made  in  Hong  Kong,  the  precision-molded 
plastic  pieces  are  manufactured  in  Atlanta, 


Bausch  &  Lomb's  Interplak  is  a  true  world  product, 
built  from  parts  made  around  the  world  and  modified 
to  meet  the  needs  of  customers  in  30  countries. 


WPI  JOURNAL 


the  brush  head  is  made  in  Ohio,  and  the 
final  assembly  is  done  in  Mexico. 

To  meet  local,  retail  and  consumer 
needs  in  30  countries  around  the  world, 
there  are  50  variations  of  the  same  basic 
Interplak  design.  There  are  marketing  man- 
agers, product  design  engineers,  cost  ana- 
lysts and  manufacturing  managers  in  nine 
locations,  all  of  whom  work  on  product 
development  for  these  products.  Design 
and  specifications  are  computerized  at  the 
design  locations  and  electronically  trans- 
mitted to  the  manufacturing  sites  for  the 
various  parts  and  assemblies  around  the 
world.  When  it  is  necessary  to  change  a 
specification,  the  worldwide  file  can  be 
updated  on  a  real-time  basis. 

There  is  a  network  of  20  people  who 
bring  new  products  in  this  category  to 
market,  managing  the  process  from  idea 
generation  to  product  launch.  They  meet 
face  to  face  maybe  twice  per  year.  All  the 
work  gets  done  on  an  interconnected  in- 
formation network  with  regular  use  of 
video  conferencing. 

Here's  another  example.  Ten  years  ago 
Bausch  &  Lomb's  primary  business  was 
the  manufacture  of  contact  lenses,  and 
that  is  still  an  important  business  for  us 
today.  The  typical  age  profile  of  a  contact 
lens  wearer  is  18  to  35.  In  the  35  to  40  age 
range,  presbyopia  starts  to  set  in  and  a 
contact  lens  wearer  needs  bifocals.  There 
really  is  no  effective  mass-market  bifocal 
contact  lens;  the  known  technology  simply 
doesn't  work.  As  a  result,  a  percentage  of 
our  market  every  year  switches  to  wearing 
spectacle  bifocals. 

The  technology  does  exist  to  individu- 
ally manufacture  a  bifocal  contact  lens  for 
a  specific  eye.  On  the  surface,  this  is  not  a 
particularly  interesting  business  for  a  com- 
pany that  makes  millions  of  contact  lenses 
at  very  low  cost.  The  many  design  param- 
eters that  need  to  be  taken  into  account  in 
an  individually  manufactured  bifocal  con- 
tact lens  result  in  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  variations. 

But  an  engineer  in  Holland  came  up 
with  a  concept  that  could  manufacture 
these  individually  designed  lenses  at  a 
very  low  cost.  A  doctor  in  Europe  or  the 
Middle  East  could  call  an  800  number  in 
Ireland  and  access  a  voice-activated  pro- 
gram. He  would  then  input  the  specific 
values  for  the  design  parameters,  which 
he  would  have  measured  on  his  patient. 

The  digitized  information  would  be  fed 
into  a  computer-controlled  laser,  a  system 
developed  by  a  U.S.  company  working  in 
concert  with  engineers  in  the  U.K.,  who,  in 


Making  contact  lenses  for  people  ages 
18  to  35  is  an  important  part  of  Bausch 
&  Lomb's  business.  A  way  of  making 
individually  designed  bifocal  contact 
lenses  at  a  reasonable  cost  may  open 
up  the  over  35  market  for  the  company. 


turn,  worked  with  scientists  from  the  Uni- 
versity of  Manchester.  The  laser  would  cut 
the  digitized  design  into  a  special  polymer; 
within  a  minute  of  the  information  being 
taken  from  the  doctor,  a  finished  bifocal 
lens  would  be  in  a  package  ready  to  be 
mailed  for  delivery  within  48  hours. 

The  production  unit  I've  just  described 
could  manufacture  up  to  5,000  individually 
designed  bifocal  contact  lenses  a  day  at  a 
cost  well  within  the  range  of  financial  rea- 
sonableness. Four  of  these  units,  located 
strategically  throughout  the  world,  could 
supply  worldwide  market  needs. 

The  skills  required  to  succeed  in  this 
kind  of  environment  have  definite  implica- 
tions for  scientific  and  engineering  educa- 
tion. The  hardware — the  core  science  and 
engineering  curricula  and  the  way  it  is 
taught — is  in  place  and  is  effective.  Uni- 
versity-level education  in  science  and 
engineering  in  this  country  is  widely  re- 
garded as  the  best  in  the  world.  The  only 
criticism  I  have  of  the  hardware  is  the  lack 
of  appropriate  attention  to  the  concepts 
and  application  of  total  quality  manage- 
ment, although  a  groundswell  is  beginning 
to  develop  for  additions  to  the  curricula  in 
this  area. 

The  software — the  nonscience-based 
classroom  work  and  the  experience  out- 
side the  classroom — is  a  different  matter. 
The  fostering  of  acceptance  and  awareness 
of  cultural  diversity  (further  than  that,  the 
development  of  an  intense,  intellectual 


curiosity  about  cultural  diversity)  is  a 
necessity  in  the  educational  program.  But 
it  is  not  really  evident  on  college  campuses 
today;  in  fact,  the  reverse  seems  to  be  true. 

There  has  to  be  a  recognition  that 
because  something  is  different,  it's  not 
necessarily  better  or  worse — it's  simply 
different.  This  skill  doesn't  come  as  natu- 
rally to  us  as  it  does  to  Europeans,  nor  do 
we  work  as  hard  at  it  as  the  Japanese.  A 
Japanese  company  wouldn't  think  of  send- 
ing executives  to  America  to  negotiate  a 
business  deal  if  they  didn't  speak  English. 
Nor  would  those  executives  ask  to  have 
dinner  at  a  sushi  bar  if  they  were  with  their 
American  counterparts. 

Yet  American  language  capability  is 
notoriously  bad.  We  too  often  try  to  sell 
products  designed  only  for  U.S.  markets, 
and  we  try  to  force  our  values  and  life- 
styles onto  our  international  counterparts. 

There  are  many  ways  a  college  or  uni- 
versity can  encourage  cultural  diversity 
and  perspective:  language  studies,  specific 
cultural  studies,  increasing  the  number  of 
foreign  students,  hiring  international  schol- 
ars, serving  international  food  and  creating 
diverse  cultural  support  systems.  All  of 
these  can  work  with  the  support  and  com- 
mitment of  the  leadership  and  the  faculty. 

WPI  is  uniquely  positioned  to  provide 
national  leadership  in  global  science  and 
engineering  education.  I  was  a  senior  when 
the  faculty  approved  the  WPI  Plan.  The 
guiding  objective  of  the  Plan  is  simple: 
to  educate  humane  technologists. 

By  pursuing  that  objective,  WPI  has 
already  put  in  place  most  of  what  is 
needed  to  create  successful  global  tech- 
nologists, including  the  requirement  that 
students  work  on  cross-functional  teams 
to  solve  problems;  the  requirement  that 
they  supplement  scientific  studies  with 
studies  in  the  humanities  and  social  sci- 
ence, including,  for  many,  work  at  global 
project  centers;  and  the  courses  and 
projects  that  give  them  the  ability  to 
work  on  real  problems  in  different  cul- 
tural environments. 

The  Plan  puts  WPI  on  the  leading  edge 
of  the  wave.  And  I  firmly  believe  it  will  be 
a  very  big  wave. 


Zarrella  is  president  of  Bausch  &  Lomb  Inc., 
a  leading  worldwide  manufacturer  of  health- 
care and  optics  products.  This  essay  was 
adapted  from  Zarrella's  address  to  the  WPI 
Workshop  on  Internationalizing  Science  and 
Engineering  Education  held  in  Waterville 
Valley,  N.H.,  in  October  1992. 


Spring  1993 


TKe 


Wk 


oie 


World 
in  Tkei^  Hand 


s 


By  Diane  Benison 


hrough  WPI's  Global  Perspective  Program, 
students  have  traveled  the  world  to  complete 
professional-level  projects.  The  program 
is  also  building  a  growing  base  of  globalization 
programs  and  curricula  here  on  campus. 
The  goal  is  to  help  students  better  understand 
their  roles  as  working  professionals  and  citizens 
on  an  ever  shrinking  world. 


Marshall  McLuhan's  1967  book, 
The  Medium  is  the  Message,  became 
famous  for  its  observation  that, 
._./  electronic  interdependence  recre- 
ates the  world  in  the  image  of  a  global  vil- 
lage." That  easy  to  grasp  word-picture  had 
a  vividness  that  resonated  instantly  for  his 
readers.  But  more  than  two  decades  ago, 
the  interdependence  McLuhan  described 
was  still  an  abstraction  for  most  people. 

Today,  the  global  village  no  longer  refers 
merely  to  the  real-time  connection  of  people 
via  phone,  fax,  modem  and  satellite.  Now, 
human  society  around  the  world  is  being 
transformed  by  the  melding  of  hundreds 
of  national  economies  into  a  single  world 
market  (see  Input,  page  2). 

Volumes  have  been  written  about  the 
globalization  of  business,  technology,  man- 
ufacturing and  finance.  In  1992,  Business 
Week  marshaled  the  efforts  of  nearly  200 
reporters,  editors  and  other  staffers  to  pro- 
duce a  special  issue  on  the  global  economy 
and  its  impact  on  the  United  States.  If  the 
U.S.  is  to  retain  its  vitality  as  a  nation  and 
a  world-class  economy,  the  editors  con- 
cluded, new  ways  of  thinking  and  acting 
are  needed. 

Part  of  the  responsibility  for  changing 
our  ways  of  thinking  and  acting  will  fall  to 
educators.  From  elementary  school  to 
graduate  school,  educational  institutions 
are  grappling  with  the  need  to  develop  cur- 
riculums  and  classroom  experiences  that 
prepare  students  to  function  effectively  in 
a  future  that  promises  greater  contact  be- 
tween cultures  and  more  diversity  in  all 
aspects  of  life. 

Those  young  men  and  women  will  find 
a  world  waiting  for  their  skills.  A  recent  sur- 
vey by  McKinsey  &  Co.  found  that  most 
corporate  CEOs  recognize  the  increasing 
importance  of  international  markets  to  the 
success  of  their  companies.  These  firms  will 
be  looking  for  employees  with  the  experi- 
ence, skills  and  cultural  awareness  to  help 
them  succeed  internationally. 

That  means  being  able  to  design  and 
build  products  that  will  sell  in  diverse  mar- 
kets around  the  world  and  to  work  effec- 
tively with  fellow  employees,  consultants 
and  customers  who  live  in  other  nations. 
And  it  may  well  mean  being  ready  to  relo- 
cate to  corporate  offices,  divisions  and  sub- 
sidiaries outside  the  U.S.  In  short,  it  means 
that  the  professionals  of  tomorrow  must  be 


WPI  Students 
Travel  the  Globe 

WPI  currently  operates  project  centers, 
project  programs  and  exchange  pro- 
grams in  15  countries  on  four  conti- 
nents; new  programs  are  added 
frequently.  Project  centers  are  staffed 
by  full-time  WPI  faculty  members 
throughout  the  seven-week  periods 
that  students  are  in  residence. 

While  project  programs  do  not  have 
resident  WPI  faculty  advisors,  the  Insti- 
tute hires  local  advisors  and  coordina- 
tors to  work  with  students.  On-campus 
advisors  often  visit  project  programs 
briefly  while  students  are  on  site. 

Some  project  programs,  such  as 
the  one  in  Ireland,  are  conducted  in 
conjunction  with  universities  with  which 
WPI  maintains  exchange  programs. 
Students  may  also  do  traditional  year- 
or  semester-long  exchanges  with  these 
universities,  taking  courses  in  English 
or  in  the  language  of  the  host  country. 
Some  students  complete  a  project 
during  their  exchange. 


1  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute 

2  Washington,  D.C.,  Project  Center 

3  Ecole  Polytechnique  Exchange, 
Montreal,  Canada 

4  San  Francisco  Project  Center 


more  than  competent  engineers,  scientists 
and  managers.  They  must  be  true  citizens 
of  the  world. 

Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  has 
been  on  the  cutting  edge  of  the 
globalization  of  technological  edu- 
cation for  two  decades.  Among  experts 
familiar  with  WPI  and  with  science  and  engi- 
neering education  in  the  United  States,  the 
Institute  is  considered  the  national  leader. 

In  1992,  Maurice  Harari,  a  nationally 
known  leader  in  international  education, 
was  asked  to  evaluate  the  Institute's  global 
programs.  Harari,  dean  emeritus  at  the 
Center  for  International  Education,  Califor- 
nia State  University  at  Long  Beach,  deliv- 


ered his  report  in  January.  "I  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  asserting  that  WPI  is  way  above  the 
national  average  for  its  type  of  institution  in 
terms  of  what  it  has  already  accomplished 
in  the  field  of  global  education,"  he  wrote. 

"The  flexibility  and  innovative  character 
of  its  curriculum  through  the  IQP,  MQP,  and 
Humanities  Sufficiency,  and  the  flexible  WPI 
calendar  arrangements,  have  contributed 
greatly  to  the  achievements  of  WPI  to  date. 
Yet,  its  potential  in  global  education  is  con- 
siderable and  because  of  its  rather  unique 
institutional  character  and  high  quality, 
WPI  is  very  well-positioned  to  aspire  to  a 
national  and  international  leadership  role 
in  higher  education.  Its  interest  and  experi- 
ence in  working  at  the  intersection  of 


Spring  1993 


c^b 


■^..np' 


•^ 


^p 


©a 


0/ 

5  Puerto  Rico  Project  Center 

6  Ecuador  Project  Center 

7  University  of  Limerick  Exchange, 
Limerick,  Ireland 

8  London  Project  Center 

9  Ecole  des  Mines  and 

The  University  Marne-La-Vallee  Exchange, 
Paris,  France 

10  Catholic  University  Exchange, 
Leuven,  Belgium 

11  Technical  University  of  Darmstadt  Exchange, 
Darmstadt,  Germany 


% 


12  Technical  College  of  Munich  Exchange, 
Munich,  Germany 

13  Federal  Technical  University  Exchange, 
Zurich,  Switzerland 

14  Venice  Project  Center 

15  Moscow  Institute  of  Engineering  Physics  Exchange, 
Moscow,  Russia 

16  Royal  Institute  of  Technology  Exchange, 
Stockholm,  Sweden 

17  Bangkok  Project  Center 

18  Hong  Kong  Project  Center 

19  Taipei  Project  Program 


<? 


I 


technology,  the  sciences  and  social  issues, 
represent  a  sound  and  invaluable  base  for 
yet  another  quantum  leap  forward  in  qual- 
ity, service,  innovation  and  international 
reputation." 

WPI's  leadership  can  be  measured  in  sev- 
eral ways.  For  example,  a  recent  Institute  of 
International  Education  survey  of  study- 
abroad  programs  at  colleges  and  universi- 
ties, found  that  about  71,000  students  en- 
rolled in  accredited  U.S.  institutions  studied 
overseas  in  1989-90.  Of  that  number,  only 
1.3  percent  were  engineering  majors.  During 
that  same  period,  1 1 1  WPI  students  com- 
pleted project  work  abroad.  Among  those 
1 1 1  students  were  86  engineering  majors. 
They  represented  nearly  10  percent  of  all 


U.S.  engineering  students  who  studied  over- 
seas that  year. 

Currently,  about  a  third  of  all  WPI  under- 
graduates participate  in  an  off-campus  aca- 
demic experience  by  the  time  they  graduate. 
The  Institute's  strategic  plan  calls  for  in- 
creasing that  to  half  of  all  undergraduates 
by  1995.  "I  don't  think  that's  an  unrealistic 
goal,"  says  Susan  Vernon-Gerstenfeld,  ad- 
junct associate  professor  of  interdiscipli- 
nary studies.  "So  far,  the  quality  of  the 
students  who  participate  has  been  quite 
high.  This  is  a  selective  program,  but  we're 
not  just  taking  the  superstars.  We're  also 
taking  the  steady,  hard  workers  who  show 
real  promise. 

"This  is  not  a  junior  year  abroad  pro- 


gram of  the  kind  that  are  common  at  liberal 
arts  colleges.  It  is  also  not  an  internship. 
These  students  are  not  pouring  coffee  and 
running  errands.  They're  working  on  ap- 
plied research  that  is  substantive  and  im- 
portant to  the  sponsoring  organizations. 
And,  those  organizations  use  the  results  of 
the  students'  work;  I  think  that's  a  critical 
thing  to  understand." 

The  Institute  laid  the  groundwork  for 
national  leadership  in  global  educa- 
tion when  it  created  the  WPI  Plan  in 
the  early  1970s.  Two  elements  of  the  Plan 
have  been  key  to  the  evolution  of  the 
Institute's  global  program.  The  first  is  the 
Interactive  Qualifying  Project  GQP)-  One  of 


WPI  Journal 


Hossein  Hakim,  left,  and  Lance  Schachterle  have  played  pivotal  roles  in  launching 
and  sustaining  WPI's  Global  Perspective  Program.  Schachterle  helped  establish  the 
Institute's  first  overseas  academic  endeavors.  Hakim  helped  start  the  Center  for 
International  Studies  and  is  now  WPI's  Global  Program  Officer. 


three  projects  required  of  all  undergradu- 
ates, the  1QP  requires  students  to  look  at  the 
intersection  of  science,  technology  and  soci- 
ety. The  second  critical  element  is  an  aca- 
demic calendar  based  on  seven-week  terms. 
Lance  Schachterle,  associate  dean  of  un- 
dergraduate studies  and  chairman  of  the 
Interdisciplinary  Studies  Division,  says 
WPI's  globalization  efforts  occurred  as  a 
natural,  though  unanticipated,  outgrowth 
of  the  Plan.  "When  the  Plan  shifted  the  focus 
of  learning  at  WPI  from  a  traditional  pure 
course  work  approach  to  a  project-based 
model,  the  integration  of  learning  into  real- 
world  experiences  became  the  basis  for 
earning  an  undergraduate  degree,"  he  says. 
"It  occurred  first  to  the  faculty  and  then 
to  the  students  that  the  IQP  offered  us  an 
opportunity  unavailable  at  all  other  univer- 
sities. Students  have  to  complete  this  de- 
gree requirement  in  any  case;  why  couldn't 
they  carry  it  out  beyond  the  bounds  of  the 
campus?  In  fact,  there  seemed  no  reason 
why  this  requirement  couldn't  be  met  any- 
where in  the  world.  It  made  a  lot  of  sense 
for  students  who  were  looking  for  an 
opportunity  to  gain  international  experience 
within  their  four  years  to  do  so  through  a 
project  abroad,  rather  than  through  an  extra 
summer  or  semester." 

Making  that  idea  even  more  attractive 
was  WPI's  seven-week  term  system.  In  seven 
weeks,  a  student  can  do  significant  project 
work  off  campus  without  losing  ground  in 
meeting  the  rigorous  and  extensive  course 
requirements  typical  of  colleges  of  engineer- 
ing and  science.  The  semester  system  com- 
mon at  other  engineering  and  science 
institutions  can  pose  more  of  a  barrier, 
Schachterle  says. 

Schachterle,  who  joined  WPI  in  1970  to 
teach  modern  British  literature,  played  a 
pivotal  role  in  launching  the  Institute's 
globalization  program  more  than  two  de- 
cades ago.  Though  he  had  done  his  doc- 
toral dissertation  on  Charles  Dickens, 
Schachterle  had  never  been  to  England. 
When  he  made  plans  to  travel  there  in  the 
summer  of  1971,  WPI,  which  had  made  con- 
tact with  a  university  in  London,  asked  him 
to  help  pursue  an  exchange  program  with 
that  institution. 

"That  led  directly  to  the  first  WPI  stu- 
dents carrying  out  any  kind  of  academic 
work  overseas,"  he  says.  In  addition  to  the 
London  exchange,  an  exchange  program 
was  also  established  in  Zurich  during  the 
1973-74  academic  year.  The  first  overseas 
IQPs  were  completed  through  these  pro- 
grams. The  Institute's  first  resident  project 
center  was  founded  in  Washington,  D.C., 
in  1974;  a  project  program  was  launched 
in  San  Francisco  a  few  years  later. 


8 


Spring  1993 


Studying  Culture  and  Computers  in  Switzerland 


n 

I         hange  is  inevitable  in  a  progressive 
1        society.  Change  is  constant."  Ben- 
^^  jamin  Disraeli  was  referring  to  the 
society  of  1860s  Britain  when  he  wrote 
those  words,  but  most  leaders  in  our 
technological  society  would  agree  they 
seem  more  true  today. 

Paul  M.  Szymkiewicz  '93  and  Steven  P. 
Vassallo  '93  spent  their  junior  year  as  ex- 
change students  in  Switzerland,  where 
they  took  courses  and  completed  an  In- 
teractive Qualifying  Project  titled  "The 
Cultural  Implications  of  Computerization 
in  Swiss  Banking."  The  students'  project 
explored  the  reciprocal  relationship  be- 
tween culture  and  the  implementation 
of  new  technology. 

Through  personal  interviews  and  a 
survey  (both  completed  in  German),  as 
well  as  personal  observations,  the  stu- 
dents analyzed  the  impact  of  culture  and 
technology  on  the  organizational  and 
work  processes  within  Swiss  banks.  Rob- 
ert E.  Kinicki,  associate  professor  and 
head  of  the  Computer  Science  Depart- 
ment, and  Lyle  E.  Wimmergren,  associate 
professor  of  management,  were  the 
project  advisors. 

While  in  Switzerland,  Szymkiewicz 
studied  computer  science  at  the  Engi- 
neering School  HTL  in  Brugge-Windisch; 
Vassallo  studied  mechanical  engineering 
at  the  Swiss  Federal  Institute  of  Technol- 
ogy in  Zurich. 

Vassallo  prepared  for  the  exchange  by 
completing  a  six-course  Humanities  Suffi- 
ciency (the  equivalent  of  a  humanities  mi- 
nor) in  German  at  WPI.  He  then  continued 
his  studies  in  Germany  for  two  months 
before  traveling  to  Zurich  in  August  1991. 
Szymkiewicz  emigrated  with  his  family 
from  Warsaw  to  West  Germany  in  1986 
and  completed  high  school  there.  The 
family  moved  to  Worcester  in  1989. 

The  idea  for  the  IQP  came  from 
Kinicki,  who  spent  a  year  as  a  visiting  pro- 
fessor at  the  Business  School  in  St.  Gallen, 
Switzerland.  He  observed  that  the  Swiss 
were  still  in  the  process  of  scrambling  to 
implement  information  technology  in 
their  everyday  lives,  and  that  the  diffi- 


Paul  Szymkiewicz,  left,  and  Steven  Vassallo  pose  before  the  backdrop  of  the  Swiss 
Alps.  The  students  completed  an  IQP  that  looked  at  how  Switzerland's  unique 
culture  affects  the  way  people  react  to  new  computer  technology. 


culties  seemed  rooted  in  Swiss  culture. 

"We  recognized  that  introducing  new 
technology  into  an  organization  can  affect 
the  values,  norms  and  assumptions  of  the 
members,"  says  Vassallo.  "We  were  aware 
that  because  Switzerland  has  been  geo- 
graphically, economically  and,  perhaps, 
emotionally  isolated,  the  country  has  tradi- 
tions and  a  culture  all  its  own." 

"We  knew  that  Swiss  banks  were  some  of 
the  most  technologically  advanced  in  the 
world,"  adds  Szymkiewicz.  "But  we  hypoth- 
esized that,  because  of  workers'  cultural  re- 
sistance to  change  and  the  inherent  differ- 
ences between  banking  and  computer  sub- 
cultures, the  Swiss  might  have  been  reluc- 
tant to  accept  the  new  computer  technology. 
We  called  this  phenomenon  'cultural  inertia.' " 

The  students  created  a  survey  geared  to 
the  average  Swiss  citizen;  additional  ques- 
tions were  added  for  those  who  interact 
with  computers  and  banking  as  profession- 
als. They  found  that  younger  respondents 
were  most  likely  to  recognize  the  need  for 


technological  change.  Nonetheless,  re- 
gardless of  the  bankers'  ages,  efficiency 
triumphed  over  tradition  and  technol- 
ogy was  accepted. 

But  just  as  important  as  the  project's 
ultimate  outcome,  was  the  profound  im- 
pact it  had  on  its  two  designers,  Vassallo 
says.  "As  exchange  students  in  Zurich, 
we  had  an  incredible  opportunity  to  gen- 
tly open  a  very  closed  culture  and  have 
a  look  inside.  Most  impressive,  however, 
was  not  what  we  saw,  but  rather  how 
we  now  see." 

"As  Americans,  as  engineers,  as  stu- 
dents—most generally  speaking,  as  hu- 
mans— we  see  the  world  in  a  certain 
way,"  adds  Szymkiewicz.  "We  evaluate 
the  world  without  ever  evaluating  the 
lens  through  which  we  are  looking.  It  is 
only  when  we  leave  behind  our  old  per- 
ceptions and  try  looking  through  a  dif- 
ferent lens  that  we  really  make  a  shift  in 
the  way  we  see  the  world." 

—Bonne  Gelbwasser 


WPI  Journal 


Ireland  became  a  regular  destination 
for  student  project  teams  in  1983  and  the 
first  overseas  project  center,  in  London,  was 
inaugurated  in  1987.  More  recently,  project 
programs  have  been  established  in  Venice 
and  Bangkok  (1988),  Hong  Kong  (1989), 
Taipei  (1990),  Puerto  Rico  (1991)  and  Ecua- 
dor (1992).  Today  about  200  students  each 
year  work  at  project  centers  and  programs 
in  18  locations  in  Europe,  Asia,  North 
America  and  Latin  America  (see  map, 
pages  6  and  7). 

The  international  projects  program  fed 
on  its  own  success,  and  succeeding  years 
saw  a  growing  demand  among  students  for 
overseas  project  opportunities.  At  the  same 


time,  there  was  a  groundswell  of  interest  in 
cross-cultural  issues  among  the  faculty  and 
administration.  In  1988,  that  interest  culmi- 
nated in  the  creation  of  the  Center  for  Inter- 
national Studies  on  campus.  The  center 
sought  to  expand  opportunities  for  inter- 
national studies  at  WPI  by  arranging  study 
groups  and  lectures,  organizing  tours 
abroad,  and  encouraging  faculty  to  develop 
and  advise  on-campus  projects  with  an 
international  orientation.  Hossein  Hakim, 
associate  professor  of  electrical  engineer- 
ing, led  the  efforts  to  establish  that  center. 

"Historically,  international  education  has 
meant  study  abroad,"  he  says.  "We  now  real- 
ize that,  at  least  for  the  U.S.,  study  abroad 


is  not  just  a  route  to  understanding  people 
in  other  countries.  It  is  also  a  way  of  under- 
standing and  learning  to  cooperate  with 
other  Americans  who  have  come  from  other 
parts  of  the  world — people  like  myself." 

An  Iranian  native  who  is  now  a  natural- 
ized U.S.  citizen,  Hakim  had  long  believed 
in  the  benefits  of  globalizing  education.  He 
says  he  saw  the  center  as  one  more  way  to 
encourage  a  world  perspective  at  WPI.  But 
he  says  he  and  others  at  WPI  didn't  feel  it 
was  enough.  They  believed  that  interna- 
tional issues  and  cross-cultural  perspectives 
needed  to  be  interwoven  into  on-campus 
courses  and  activities,  as  well. 

By  1990  it  was  clear  that  WPI  had  the  in- 
terest and  the  capacity  to  take  the  next  step 
on  the  road  to  global  education  by  making 
a  concerted  effort  to  make  global  issues  an 
integral  part  of  all  aspects  of  a  WPI  educa- 
tion. Hakim,  Schachterle  and  several  other 
faculty  members  and  administrators  per- 
suaded the  Institute  to  establish  the  Global 
Perspective  Program.  The  program  was 
launched  in  1991  with  Hakim  assuming 
the  additional  responsibilities  of  Global 
Program  Officer. 

"The  goal  of  the  program  is  to  extend 
WPI's  commitment  to  global  education  far 
beyond  the  international  exchange  and 
project  programs,"  Hakim  says.  "It  calls  for 
globalizing  all  aspects  of  WPI  programs — 
on  campus  and  off — by  incorporating  global 
perspectives  throughout  every  discipline 
on  campus,  as  well  as  within  nonacademic 
activities." 

By  1991,  when  the  Global  Perspective 
Program  was  started,  WPI  had  a 
small  cadre  of  faculty  members  and 
administrators  who  were  dedicated  to  the 
globalization  of  engineering  and  science 
education.  To  help  spread  the  word  and 
build  enthusiasm  among  the  rest  of  the  WPI 
community,  Hakim  organized  an  off-campus 
workshop  on  internationalizing  science  and 
engineering  education  in  October  1992. 
Forty-five  faculty  members,  administrators, 
trustees  and  friends  attended  the  weekend 
seminar  in  Waterville  Valley,  N.H. 

An  additional  seminar  was  held  on 
campus  in  February  1993.  Both  meetings 
examined  the  changing  nature  of  national 
economies,  the  history  and  present  state 
of  "internationalization"  in  higher  education, 
and  most  important,  the  history  and  future 


Professor  John  Zeugner,  left,  and 
Phanjar  Ngamtrakulpanit  '93  of 
Thailand  look  over  a  map  of  South- 
east Asia.  Zeugner,  who  directs 
WPI's  project  programs  in  Asia, 
helped  get  the  first  Asian  program 
started  in  Bangkok,  Thailand,  in  1988. 


Breaking  Down  Barriers  in  Russia 


In  August  1992,  Ronald  Passerini  '94, 
a  computer  science  major,  turned  a 
nearly  lifelong  affection  for  all  things 
Russian  into  a  four-month  exchange  in 
the  former  Soviet  Union.  He  was  the  first 
WPI  student  to  fulfill  some  of  his  degree 
requirements  in  Russia;  he  was  also  the 
first  foreigner  to  study  at  the  Moscow 
Engineering  Physics  Institute  (MIFT),  a 
prestigious,  3,500-student  university. 
Until  recently,  the  institution  was  closed 
to  outsiders  because  its  curriculum  fo- 
cused on  fields  of  special  interest  to  the 
government,  including  atomic  power 
and  space  research. 

"My  interest  in  Russian  history,  lan- 
guage and  literature  started  when  1  was 
about  6  and  became  close  friends  with 
a  boy  whose  family  had  emigrated  from 
Russia,"  Passerini  says.  "I  became  close 
to  his  family,  who  invited  me  to  share 
many  of  their  traditions  and  celebrations." 
Passerini  studied  Russian  for  four  years  at 
Austin  Preparatory  School  in  Reading, 
Mass.,  and  another  three  years  at  Holy 
Cross  College  after  enrolling  at  WPI. 

Valentin  Boriakoff,  associate  professor 
of  electrical  and  computer  engineering, 
was  Passerini's  faculty  advisor.  Boriakoff, 
who  was  born  and  educated  in  Argentina 
but  maintains  close  ties  to  Russia,  his 
parents'  homeland,  traveled  to  Moscow 
during  the  summers  of  1991  and  1992  to 
set  up  the  exchange. 

"Interest  in  computer  science  in  Rus- 
sia is  very  high,"  Passerini  says.  "Unfortu- 
nately, there  aren't  that  many  computers 
available.  About  10  years  ago  Russia 
stopped  producing  computers  and  now  it 
is  difficult  to  buy  them  from  the  West  be- 
cause of  the  exchange  rate." 

In  his  IQP,  titled  "From  the  Abacus 
Bead  to  the  Photon:  A  History  of  Com- 
puter Technology  in  Russia,"  Passerini  in- 


Back  from  a  four-month  exchange  in  Russia,  Ronald  Passerini,  right,  reviews 
his  experiences  with  his  faculty  advisor,  Professor  Valentin  Boriakoff. 


vestigated  the  causes  of  the  decline  in  the 
use  of  computers.  "He  determined  that  a 
wrong  government  decision  derailed  a  cred- 
itable native  computer  industry,"  Boriakoff 
says.  "MIFI  faculty  were  interested  in  his 
project  because  they  are  studying  the  same 
problem.  Ron  researched  aspects  of  Russian 
computing  history  completely  unknown  in 
the  West. 

"Because  Ron  has  made  such  a  fine  im- 
pression on  the  people  he  worked  with,  we 
expect  to  offer  more  WPI  students  opportu- 
nities to  study  and  complete  IQPs  and  MQPs 
in  Russia  in  the  future.  Ten  students  have  al- 
ready expressed  interest  in  these  projects." 

In  addition  to  his  IQP  work,  Passerini 
took  two  courses  in  Russian.  "When  I  first 
got  to  Moscow  I  thought,  Tm  5,000  miles 
from  home,  I  don't  know  anyone,  and  I'm  not 
fluent  enough  in  the  language  to  get  through 
this.'  But  everything  worked  out  fine." 


An  unexpected  opportunity  presented 
itself  to  Passerini  during  his  Russian  visit. 
"One  day  I  was  feeling  homesick  and  crav- 
ing American  food,  so  I  walked  downtown 
to  the  Pizza  Hut  on  Tverskaya  Street,"  he 
says.  "I  was  wearing  a  WPI  sweatshirt  and 
when  I  took  off  my  jacket,  a  guy  sitting 
across  from  me  jumped  up  and  said,  'I 
don't  believe  it.  I  graduated  from  WPI 
in  1963!'" 

It  was  Harold  Taylor,  manager  of  inter- 
national programs  for  United  Technolo- 
gies Corp.,  who  travels  frequently 
between  Moscow  and  company  head- 
quarters in  Windsor  Locks,  Conn.  "We 
became  friends  and  he  invited  me  to 
send  him  my  resume  before  I  graduate," 
Passerini  says.'Td  love  to  work  there  for 
a  few  years,  but  not  forever.  America  will 
always  be  home." 

—Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


of  WPl's  own  Global  Perspective  Program. 

The  program  has  also  gained  momentum 
through  a  two-year,  $123,000  grant  from  the 
U.S.  Department  of  Education.  Hakim  is  us- 
ing the  grant  in  a  variety  of  ways  to  further 
the  infusion  of  globalization  at  WPI.  Some 
of  the  money  is  helping  faculty  members 
revise  course  content  and  further  their 
development  and  interest  in  globalization. 

One  of  those  faculty  members  is  Karen 


Ruhleder,  assistant  professor  of  manage- 
ment, whose  research  focuses  on  manage- 
ment information  systems,  social  and 
organizational  aspects  of  computing,  and 
computer-supported  cooperative  and  col- 
laborative work.  Ruhleder  is  developing  a 
teaching  case  study  based  on  the  formal 
unification  of  the  East  and  West  German 
governments. 

Although  Berlin  is  once  again  the  seat  of 


government  for  the  unified  Germany,  some 
critical  work  is  still  done  in  Bonn.  The  two 
cities  will  be  connected  with  modern  infor- 
mation and  communication  technologies, 
Ruhleder  says.  She  will  investigate  a  govern- 
ment-sponsored project  called  POLIKOM,  "a 
multiphase,  multiparty  effort  to  design  and 
implement  the  technological  and  organiza- 
tional changes  required  to  support  work 
across  such  physical  distance,"  she  says. 


WPI  Journal 


11 


Probing  Environmental  Issues  in  Ecuador 


In  December  1992,  John  P.  Coyle  '94, 
Daniel  R.  Dibiase  '95  and  James  A. 
Watson  '94  comprised  one  of  two 
project  teams  that  inaugurated  WPI's  new 
project  center  in  Guayaquil,  Ecuador.  The 
students  completed  an  Interactive  Quali- 
fying Project  that  has  already  had  an  im- 
pact on  the  future  of  the  center  and  WPI's 
work  with  ESPOL,  a  technological  univer- 
sity in  Guayaquil. 

The  students  first  prioritized 
Ecuador's  major  environmental  issues 


and  developed  a  plan  for  future  projects 
by  WPI  students.  They  next  analyzed  the 
environmental  and  socioeconomic  impacts 
of  the  new  Esmeraldas-Santo  Domingo 
Poliduct,  a  160-kilometer  pipeline  that 
transports  oil  and  gas  to  Ecuador's  coastal 
region.  They  determined  that  the  country's 
poliducts  have  had  negative  consequences, 
including  land  scarring,  erosion,  and  dam- 
age to  vegetation  and  wildlife  caused  by 
leaks  or  ruptures  in  the  pipeline. 

"The  good  news,"  they  note,  "is  that 

because  of  heightened  social 
concerns  about  the  poliducts 
in  recent  years,  the  Ecua- 
doran government  has  felt 
pressure  to  enforce  environ- 
mental protection  laws.  While 
the  laws  can  sometimes  be 
contradictory,  they  can  ulti- 
mately be  used  effectively 
to  reduce  the  impact  of  the 
pipeline." 


An  Ecuadoran  student 
(center,  without  shirt) 
poses  with,  clockwise  from 
left,  John  Coyle  '94,  Joshua 
Dobbelaar  '94  and  Daniel 
Dibiase '95.  In  late  1992, 
Coyle,  Dobbelaar  and 
Dibiase  were  part  of  the 
first  group  of  WPI  students 
to  complete  projects  at  the 
new  Ecuador  Project  Center. 


James  E.  Rollings,  associate  professor 
of  chemical  engineering,  served  as  the  first 
director  of  the  Ecuador  center.  He  is  also  di- 
rector of  the  Latin  American  Project  Pro- 
grams at  WPI  and  a  WK.  Kellogg  National 
Leadership  Fellow.  Along  with  Guillermo 
Salazar,  associate  professor  of  civil  engineer- 
ing, and  Daniel  Tapia  Falconi,  co-project 
director  at  ESPOL,  Rollings  served  as  advi- 
sor for  this  initial  project. 

"It  was  important  for  the  students  to 
see  the  relationship  between  technology 
and  society,"  Rollings  says.  "By  looking  at 
one  example — the  new  poliduct — they  could 
see  the  interrelationships  that  develop  with 
other  sectors  of  society.  The  insights  they 
gained  enabled  them  to  identify  six  areas 
of  environmental  concern  specifically  re- 
lated to  the  poliduct:  the  impact  of  the  oil 
industry  on  the  Amazon  River,  reforest- 
ation, low-technology  projects,  the  pollu- 
tion of  the  Guayas  River,  the  impact  of  the 
mining  industry,  and  ecotourism.  These 
will  be  considered  as  potential  topics  for 
future  IQPs." 

Francis  C.  Lutz,  dean  of  undergraduate 
studies  at  WPI,  Carlos  Becerra,  ESPOL's  vice 
rector,  Frederick  L.  Hart,  associate  professor 
of  civil  engineering  at  WPI,  and  Salazar  have 
applied  for  funding  to  promote  the  ex- 
change of  faculty  between  the  two  institu- 
tions and  to  initiate  the  development  of  joint 
research  by  establishing  a  database  system 
to  be  used  in  identifying  and  addressing 


"The  participants  see  POLIKOM  as  a  testbed 
for  other  members  of  the  European  Commu- 
nity and  for  international  corporations." 

Ruhleder  says  she  believes  a  case  study 
based  on  POLIKOM  can  be  used  in  courses 
in  management  information  systems,  tele- 
communications, international  business  and 
public  policy.  "To  consider  non-U. S.  scena- 
rios, students  must  relinquish  their  ideas 
and  expectations  about  how  things  work 
and  refine  their  own  understanding  of  the 
cultural  factors  that  contribute  to  organiza- 
tional decision-making  and  the  mobilization 
of  support  for  potentially  controversial 
projects,"  she  says. 

"She's  going  to  learn  something  that  will 
help  in  her  research,"  Hakim  says,  "but  her 
experiences  will  also  help  her  revise  her 


courses  on  management  information  sys- 
tems. She'll  bring  something  back  to  the  col- 
lege that  will  help  students."  Hakim  says  he 
is  using  the  Education  Department  grant  in 
a  similar  manner  to  help  other  faculty  mem- 
bers infuse  global  issues  into  many  other 
areas  of  the  WPI  curriculum. 

Hakim  is  also  using  the  grant  to  provide 
seed  funding  for  international  student  pro- 
gramming, cultural  festivals  and  similar  ac- 
tivities. The  grant  also  brought  SCOLA 
(Satellite  Communications  for  Learning)  to 
campus.  SCOLA  delivers  TV  news  from  more 
than  30  countries  in  20  languages  to  televi- 
sion sets  across  campus,  providing  a  non- 
U.S.  view  of  world  events  and  allowing 
students  to  hear  other  languages  spoken 
by  native  speakers. 


And,  the  grant  is  being  used  to  support 
the  WPI-Worcester  Public  Schools  Alliance 
for  Global  Education.  Through  the  alliance, 
WPI  faculty  are  working  with  public  school 
teachers  to  develop  a  global  education 
program  for  grades  K  through  8. 

Hakim  recently  completed  a  cost  analy- 
sis of  the  Global  Perspective  Program.  "The 
results  were  quite  interesting,"  he  says. 
"One  might  think  that  maintaining  programs 
at  18  sites  around  the  world  would  require  a 
huge  investment.  But  the  analysis  indicated 
that  the  academic  work  done  off  campus 
would  actually  cost  more  if  it  were  done 
on  campus." 

Hakim  says  there  are  several  reasons 
for  this.  One  is  the  support  the  program  re- 
ceives from  alumni  and  friends  around  the 


12 


Spring  1993 


James  Watson  '94  stands  beneath  a  section  of  the  160-kilometer  Esmeraldas- 
Santo  Domingo  Poliduct,  an  oil  and  gas  pipeline  in  Ecuador.  Watson,  Coyle  and 
Dibiase  looked  at  the  potential  environmental  impacts  of  the  poliduct. 


environmental  issues  for  the  Guayaquil  region. 
The  proposed  research  includes  a  provi- 
sion for  an  ESPOL  faculty  member  to  spend 
two  years  at  WPI  studying  for  a  master's 
degree;  the  plan  of  study  would  include 
courses  in  environmental  engineering,  con- 
struction management  and  computer  infor- 
mation systems.  "The  faculty  member 
would  also  work  with  a  WPI  research  assis- 
tant on  the  database  project,  lecture  and 
assist  with  our  ongoing  projects  at  the 


Ecuador  Project  Center,"  Salazar  says. 
"The  database  we  propose  will  help 
us  address  issues  that  relate  to  the  pollu- 
tion of  the  Guayas  River,"  he  says.  "The 
students'  work  complements  what  we 
are  proposing.  They  did  a  first-class  job 
of  organizing  and  classifying  areas  for 
major  future  research  and  have  given  us 
a  strong  foundation  upon  which  to  build 
this  and  future  proposals." 

—Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


world,  all  of  whom  volunteer  their  services. 
Another  is  that,  for  the  most  part  students 
pay  their  own  transportation  and  housing 
costs  when  they  travel  overseas.  (WPI  sub- 
sidizes housing  costs  in  Washington,  D.C., 
where  living  expenses  are  quite  high,  and 
some  students  receive  additional  financial 
aid  when  they  are  abroad  to  partially  offset 
their  expenses.) 

Some  economies  result  from  the  fact 
that  the  average  size  of  an  overseas  project 
team  is  three  students,  versus  two  students 
for  a  typical  IQP  team  on  campus.  In  addi- 
tion, resident  faculty  advisors  at  project 
centers  work  with  an  average  of  15  students 
at  a  time,  a  project  advising  load  that  would 
be  difficult  to  handle  back  on  campus.  And, 
since  one-third  of  students  who  go  abroad 


to  do  projects  do  so  during  the  summer, 
when  they  must  pay  additional  summer- 
session  tuition,  the  program  actually  brings 
in  extra  revenue  for  the  college. 

"Although  the  financial  analysis  of  the 
program  looks  quite  positive,"  Hakim  says, 
"we  should  not  limit  our  analysis  to  cost 
comparisons.  There's  no  way  to  put  a  dollar 
value  on  what  the  experience  does  for  WPI's 
graduates.  In  letters  and  conversations, 
alumni  have  told  me  and  other  faculty  mem- 
bers how  their  experiences  abroad  have 
given  them  a  competitive  edge  in  their  jobs. 
We  plan  to  do  a  survey  of  alumni  this  sum- 
mer to  better  understand  this  impact. 

"It's  also  difficult  to  quantify  the  value 
of  diversity.  If  you  want  a  more  diverse 
campus,  you  have  to  have  people  who  think 


differently.  I  think  the  Global  Perspective 
Program  helps  create  a  more  tolerant  envi- 
ronment on  campus.  And,  it's  also  difficult 
to  measure  the  important  role  the  program 
plays  in  attracting — and  retaining — students, 
something  not  to  be  overlooked  in  the 
fiercely  competitive  environment  for  higher 
education  today. 

"Many  of  our  competitors  look  at  their 
global  programs  as  a  way  to  make  them- 
selves more  attractive  to  students.  There  is 
a  growing  interest  among  students  in  such 
programs,  and  these  schools  are  increasing 
their  investments  in  them.  We  must  be  care- 
ful not  to  lose  our  lead." 

As  he  looks  to  the  future  of  the  Global 
Perspective  Program,  Schachterle  says  he  is 
pleased  that  several  faculty  members  are  ex- 
panding the  global  projects  program  beyond 
the  IQP  by  developing  programs  through 
which  students  will  complete  their  Major 
Qualifying  Projects — the  capstone  project  in 
a  student's  major  field  of  study — in  England, 
Germany  and  several  other  countries.  Op- 
portunities are  also  growing  for  completing 
cooperative  education  abroad,  he  says,  and 
the  globalization  program  may  well  play  a 
significant  role  in  the  development  of  the 
Institute's  graduate  programs  and  research 
collaborations. 

Earlier  this  year,  the  faculty  voted  to 
modify  the  humanities  requirements  to  en- 
able students  to  cap  their  humanities 
course  work  with  a  full  term  of  project  work 
abroad.  "This  is  a  wonderful  chance  for  WPI 
students  to  study  theater  in  London,  for  ex- 
ample, or  the  arts  in  Venice,"  he  says. 

"Through  initiatives  like  these,  WPI  is 
poised  to  achieve  the  role  of  national  leader 
in  global  education  within  the  community  of 
engineering  and  science  institutions.  Com- 
panies that  need  technically  able  profession- 
als who  can  live  and  work  effectively  in 
cultures  new  to  them  increasingly  will  look 
to  WPI  graduates  to  fill  that  need,  because 
our  students,  among  all  graduates  of  engi- 
neering and  science  colleges  and  universi- 
ties, will  be  uniquely  qualified  to  help  their 
employers  compete  successfully  in  the 
global  village." 

Faculty  members  who  have  advised 
[QPs  abroad  or  helped  launch  over- 
seas project  programs  and  centers 
recount  similar  tales  about  what  can  some- 
times be  a  difficult  process.  All  say  one  must 
first  educate  potential  sponsors  about  the 
WPI  project  orientation  and  its  seven-week 
terms  and  then  convince  them  that  WPI 
undergraduates  can  indeed  function  as 
professional  consultants. 

Veterans  of  the  process,  like  Schachterle, 


WPI  Journal 


13 


From  left,  Mary  A.  Burke  '93  and  Matthew  R.  Boutell  '93  discuss  their  Interactive 
Qualifying  Project  with  Susan  Vernon-Gerstenfeld,  director  of  the  Puerto  Rico  and 
Washington,  D.C.,  project  centers.  Working  for  the  Conditio  de  Diseno  y  Technologia 
in  Puerto  Rico,  Burke  and  Boutell  developed  strategies  to  help  Puerto  Rican  apparel 
manufacturers  market  their  products  in  the  U.S. 


Vernon-Gerstenfeld  and  history  professor 
John  Zeugner  say  foreign-born  alumni  have 
often  lent  their  reputations  and  support  to 
help  WPI  gain  a  toehold  in  their  home  coun- 
tries. Once  the  college,  with  the  help  of 
these  graduates,  has  laid  the  groundwork 
with  an  inaugural  student  project,  other  pro- 
spective project  sponsors  are  often  signifi- 
cantly more  receptive  to  the  idea  of  working 
with  WPl's  undergraduates. 

Zeugner  is  director  of  the  International 
Scholars  Program  and  the  Asian  Projects 
Program.  The  International  Scholar  designa- 
tion is  a  special  notation  on  a  graduate's  di- 
ploma and  academic  record  indicating  he  or 
she  has  completed  a  Humanities  Sufficiency 
involving  a  foreign  language  or  culture,  and 
either  completed  an  IQP  or  MQP  at  a  foreign 
project  site  or  spent  at  least  a  half  year  as 


an  exchange  student  at  a  foreign  university. 
Twenty-four  graduates  have  earned  the  des- 
ignation since  the  program  was  started  in 
1989;  19  candidates  are  enrolled  in  the 
Class  of  1994. 

Zeugner  taught  in  Japan  for  four  years, 
first  as  a  Fulbright  Senior  Lecturer  between 
1976  and  1978,  then  as  a  visiting  professor 
of  American  culture  in  Tokyo  between  1981 
and  1983.  Next  year  he  will  return  to  Japan 
as  the  Bryan  Drake  Guest  Professor  at  Kobe 
University.  He  has  also  lectured  in  Manilla, 
Bangkok  and  Taipei  for  the  United  States 
Information  Agency.  At  WPI,  it's  his  job  to 
make  sure  the  college  has  projects  in  Asia, 
and  that  students  have  housing,  on-site  ad- 
visors, WPI  advisors,  and  any  other  assis- 
tance and  guidance  they  need. 

His  story  about  launching  the  first  pro- 


ject in  Thailand  illustrates  the  role  cultural 
differences  can  play  in  the  process.  "WPI  has 
a  lot  of  good  contacts  in  Asia,"  he  says,  attri- 
buting many  of  them  to  Yi  Hua  Ma,  professor 
of  chemical  engineering,  Roy  A.  Seaberg  Jr., 
director  of  special  admissions,  and  WPI's 
active  network  of  alumni  in  Thailand.  "Mak- 
ing initial  contacts  was  relatively  easy.  But 
Thais  prefer  face-to-face  contact  for  con- 
ducting new  business,  and  that  meant  the 
usual  WPI  preparation  process  had  to  be 
altered  as  the  first  Thai  project  was  getting 
underway. 

"Normally,  the  preparatory  work  in- 
cludes doing  background  stuff  on  the  coun- 
try and  its  culture,  completing  a  preliminary 
bibliographic  assessment  for  the  project, 
and  writing  a  full  project  proposal  that  is 
sent  to  the  sponsor.  The  sponsor  reacts  to 
the  proposal  and  gives  you  feedback  before 
you  arrive,  so  everybody  agrees  what 
they're  doing." 

To  ensure  a  successful  start  in  Thailand, 
Zeugner  traveled  there  with  the  first  team 
of  students  to  get  them  set  up,  to  make  sure 
the  sponsor  and  the  team  had  the  same  un- 
derstanding of  the  project's  goals,  and  to  be 
sure  the  sponsor  was  comfortable  working 
with  undergraduates. 

"The  biggest  hurdle  we  have  in  Asia  is 
similar  to  the  hurdle  we  face  in  London,"  he 
says.  "There  is  a  profound  cultural  assump- 
tion that  undergraduates  are  children  and 
not  suitable  for  any  kind  of  serious  intellec- 
tual endeavor  or  rigorous  academic  inquiry. 
In  London  and  in  Bangkok,  the  assumption 
is  that  they're  just  not  mature,  that  they  can- 
not do  serious,  competent  work.  These  are 
societies  that  value  age. 

"It's  important  for  our  undergraduates 
to  learn  things  and  be  taken  care  of,  but 
when  we  go  to  Bangkok  and  say,  'our  stu- 
dents can  perform  work  and  do  analysis  for 
you  that  you  will  find  helpful,'  it's  like  me 
saying  to  an  American,  'I've  got  these  fourth- 
graders  who  will  help  you.'" 

To  overcome  this  cultural  bias,  WPI  has 
allied  itself  with  universities  where  the  fac- 
ulty believe  undergraduates — especially 
WPI  students — can  do  useful  work.  Another 
strategy  WPI  employs  in  countries  where 
the  cultural  imperative  works  against  taking 
undergraduates  seriously,  is  to  do  the  first 
projects  with  nonprofit  organizations,  as 
they  are  usually  quite  receptive  to  the  idea 
of  free  help. 

"In  Taipei,  for  example,"  Zeugner  says, 
"I  could  get  100  projects  in  the  area  of  tech- 
nology to  assist  disabled  children.  In  fact, 
we've  had  a  wonderful  series  of  projects 


14 


Spring  1993 


Improving  Commercial 
Fishing  Safety  in  Washington 


Being  a  commercial  fisherman 
involves  more  than  just  casting  a 
line  or  hauling  in  a  net  full  of  cod. 
Studies  indicate  that  many  boats  are  un- 
safe and  crew  members  often  unprepared 
to  deal  with  the  complexities  of  trawling 
for  seafood. 

One  of  the  U.S.  Coast  Guard's  main  re- 
sponsibilities is  maritime  safety.  The  pas- 
sage of  the  Commercial  Fishing  Industry 
Vessel  Safety  Act  of  1988  established  a 
comprehensive  set  of  safety  regulations 
for  the  industry  and  gave  the  Coast  Guard 
the  authority  to  enforce  them.  The  prob- 
lem is  that  there  is  no  effective,  cost-effi- 
cient way  to  reach  owners  of  vessels  to 
inform  them  of  the  regulations,  making 
enforcement  a  hit-or-miss  proposition. 

Trevor  G.  Hebert  '94,  Shannon  M. 
Willems  '94  and  Stephen  J.  Lanczycki  '94 
worked  at  Coast  Guard  Headquarters  dur- 
ing a  seven-week  stay  at  WPl's  Washing- 
ton, D.C.,  Project  Center  in  1992.  While 


there,  they  created  a  database  that  will 
enable  the  Coast  Guard  to  provide  detailed 
demographic  information  on  the  owners  of 
state-numbered  commercial  fishing  vessels, 
which  represent  76  percent  of  the  commer- 
cial fishing  fleet. 

The  students  also  created  The  Commer- 
cial Fishing  Safety  Communication  Manual.  It 
includes  detailed  descriptions  of  how  Coast 
Guard  personnel  can  obtain  a  list  of  state- 
numbered  commercial  fishing  vessel  owners 
from  the  30  coastal  and  Great  Lakes  states. 
It  provides  the  name  and  address  of  the  per- 
son or  office  in  each  state  to  whom  inquiries 
should  be  sent,  the  name  and  address  of 
each  state's  boating  law  administrator,  the 
cost  of  obtaining  the  information,  the  num- 
ber of  state-numbered  commercial  fishing 
vessels  operating  in  each  state,  and  any 
special  procedures  required  by  individual 
states  to  obtain  information. 

"The  project  filled  a  void  the  Coast 
Guard  wasn't  able  to  address  because  of 


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limited  resources  and  time,"  says  Tim  Farley, 
a  civilian  fishing  safety  specialist  for  the 
Coast  Guard's  Fishing  Vessel  and  Offshore 
Safety  Branch.  "They  determined  how  best 
to  disseminate  information  to  the  many 
diverse  fishing  communities  nationwide." 

Hebert,  Lanczycki  and  Willems  recom- 
mended that  a  coordinated  effort  by  the 
Fishing  and  Offshore  Safety  Branch,  the 
Auxiliary,  Boating  and  Consumer  Affairs  Di- 
vision of  the  Office  of  Navigation  Safety  and 
Waterway  Services,  and  the  Management 
Division  in  the  Office  of  Marine  Safety,  Se- 
curity and  Environmental  Protection  be  es- 
tablished. These  divisions  could  collect  the 
new  data  and  combine  it  with  information 
on  documented  vessels  that  is  contained  in 
an  existing  database  known  as  the  Marine 
Safety  Information  System. 

They  also  recommended  that  the  Coast 
Guard  create  and  use  the  database  to  dis- 
tribute safety  information  nationwide,  pref- 
erably in  the  off-season,  and  to  distribute 
information  and  advertise  local  regional 
safety  programs.  "A  coordinated  effort  to 
distribute  safety  information  could  have  a 
major  impact  on  improving  safety  in  the  in- 
dustry," they  concluded  in  their  report  to 
the  Coast  Guard.  "Direct  mailing  will  prob- 
ably be  the  most  effective  method  of  com- 
munication. With  a  complete  and  accurate 
database  of  all  commercial  fishing  vessel 
owners,  nearly  all  can  be  contacted." 

"Our  officers  have  discussed  and  evalu- 
ated the  students'  recommendations  and 
will  ultimately  coordinate  implementation 
with  Coast  Guard  programs  having  exper- 
tise in  data  processing  and  communica- 
tions," Farley  says.  "These  programs  will 
then  assume  responsibility  for  carrying  out 
the  steps  necessary  to  achieve  the  desired 
results — better  communication  with  all 
fishermen  working  in  the  United  States." 

— Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


To  help  it  fulfill  its  mission  of  pro- 
tecting the  safety  of  the  nation's 
commercial  fishing  fleet,  the  U.S. 
Coast  Guard  sponsored  a  team  of 
WPI  students  who  compiled  inform- 
ation that  will  help  the  agency 
reach  fishing  boat  owners. 


WPI  Journal 


15 


in  that  area,  which  is  an  important  issue 
in  Taiwanese  culture."  The  project  that  won 
WPl's  1992  President's  IQP  Award  was  done 
in  Thailand  with  a  nonprofit  agency  (see 
story,  this  page). 

After  the  Bangkok  project  program 
was  established,  Zeugner  hired  Prapaipit 
Chamsuksai  as  the  on-site  advisor  for  IQP 
projects  in  Thailand  and  also  made  contact 
with  Supawan  Tantayanon.  Among  more 
than  60  WPI  alumni  in  Bangkok,  both 
women  received  their  doctorates  at  WPI 
and  are  professors  at  Chulalongkorn  Uni- 
versity. Chamsuksai  won  WPI's  outstanding 
teaching  assistant  award  in  1988,  the  year 
she  received  her  doctorate  in  chemistry. 
"They  have  been  absolute  gems  in  terms  of 
advising  projects,  getting  projects  and  mak- 
ing the  connection  between  WPI  and  Chula- 
longkorn," he  says. 

Zeugner  says  he  believes  the  projects 
completed  over  the  last  few  years  have  be- 
gun to  change  people's  perspective  about 
WPI  students.  "I  think  we're  also  getting 
more  sophisticated  in  making  contacts," 
he  says.  "We  now  have  many  more  projects 
than  we  can  staff  in  Bangkok.  We  recently 
turned  down  a  major  corporation  because 
the  students  weren't  interested  in  that 
project." 

WPl's  new  emphasis  on  Latin 
America  began  in  1991  when  the 
college  received  a  $150,000  grant 
from  the  Xerox  Foundation  to  establish  a 
project  center  in  San  Juan,  Puerto  Rico. 
"Puerto  Rico  is  interesting,"  says  Vernon- 
Gerstenfeld,  who  directs  the  Puerto  Rico 
and  Washington  project  centers  and  the 
Ireland  project  program.  "While  it  is  part 
of  the  United  States,  it  is  also  part  of  Latin 
America.  The  island  acts  as  a  bridge.  We 
conceived  of  it  as  a  place  where  our  stu- 
dents would  get  good  training  in  multi- 
cultural issues  and  gain  intercultural 
experience  by  working  in  an  environment 
that  is  Latin,  and  yet  still  quite  familiar. 

"Puerto  Rico  looks  a  bit  like  Miami  and 
has  the  same  stores  you  see  in  Worcester 
or  Boston.  But  when  you're  working  in  an 
office,  the  environment  is  much  more  Latin. 
Also,  people  from  elsewhere  in  Latin  Amer- 
ica come  to  Puerto  Rico  to  live  and  work, 
so  you  learn  about  Cubans,  Ecuadorans  and 
so  on.  It's  a  tremendous  place  to  learn  about 
other  cultures. 

"One  of  our  explicit  goals  in  San  Juan 
is  to  help  correct  misperceptions  about 
Puerto  Rico  and  Puerto  Ricans.  We  want 
to  help  students  understand  that  their 
stereotypes  are  just  that  and  don't  have 


Reaching  Out  to  Slum  Dwellers  in 


Last  year  Jason  D.  Herrick  '93, 
Michael  R.  Passe  '93  and  Gunther 
Schrappe  '94  completed  their  Inter- 
active Qualifying  Project  with  the  Duang 
Prateep  Foundation  (DPF),  a  nonprofit 
organization  in  Bangkok,  Thailand.  The 
students  studied  the  chemical  storage 
policies  of  the  Port  Authority  of  Thailand 
(PAT).  The  foundation  was  interested  in 
this  information  because  in  March  1991  a 
chemical  explosion  leveled  three  ware- 
houses at  the  PAT  facility  in  Klong  Toey,  a 
heavily  populated  Bangkok  slum.  The  ex- 
plosion killed  five  people  and  injured 
countless  others. 

DPF,  which  is  devoted  to  improving 
life  for  residents  (especially  children)  of 
the  Klong  Toey  community,  asked  the  WPI 
students  for  help  in  educating  slum  dwell- 
ers about  the  chemicals  involved  in  the 
explosion  and  in  preventing  future  acci- 
dents. The  team  analyzed  the  effects  of 
the  explosion  and  did  a  series  of  chemical 
investigations  to  find  out  how  the  explo- 
sion might  have  occurred. 


PAT,  which  stores  chemicals  adjacent  to 
the  slum,  never  released  a  full  listing  of  the 
chemicals  kept  there.  "PAT  put  out  a  list  of 
10  chemicals,"  notes  John  F.  Zeugner,  pro- 
fessor of  history  and  the  students'  advisor. 
"The  students,  through  their  investigation, 
drove  that  list  up  to  53  chemicals.  Using  soil 
and  water  residues,  they  did  their  analysis 
with  the  help  of  Professor  Prapaipit 
Chamsuksai  at  Chulalongkorn  University. 
They  also  interviewed  slum  dwellers  about 
the  symptoms  they  experienced.  The  stu- 
dents noted  that  many  unidentified  chemi- 
cals had  been  stored  at  the  warehouses." 

Team  members  reviewed  international 
storage  procedures  and  studied  chemical 
explosions.  They  designed  and  wrote  a  pam- 
phlet for  DPF  to  distribute  to  doctors,  com- 
munity leaders  and  residents  and  a  poster 
for  distribution  within  Klong  Toey.  They 
were  interviewed  by  local  television  and 
they  wrote  a  commentary  for  the  op-ed 
page  of  The  National,  a  major  English- 
language  newspaper  in  Bangkok. 

Although  PAT  had  not  announced  any 


16 


Spring  1993 


Bangkok 


intention  to  modify  its  storage  facilities 
or  practices  by  the  time  the  students  left 
Thailand,  the  team's  work  prompted  a 
public  outcry  over  the  policies  of  the 
Port  Authority  and  a  consensus  that  the 
government  needed  to  do  more  for  the 
victims  of  the  explosion. 

Prateep  Ungsongtham  Hata,  the 
founder  and  president  of  the  foundation, 
grew  up  in  Klong  Toey.  Her  work  to  im- 
prove life  for  residents  of  the  slum  has 
been  recognized  locally  and  internation- 
ally. In  Thailand,  when  she  was  awarded 
the  Magsaysay  Award,  the  King  commis- 
sioned 100  commemorative  coins  to 
honor  her.  She  was  so  pleased  with  the 
WPI  team's  work  that  she  gave  each  mem- 
ber one  of  those  coins.  The  judges  for  the 
1992  competition  for  WPI's  President's 
IQP  Award  were  also  pleased.  They 
awarded  the  honor  to  Herrick,  Passe 
and  Schrappe. 

—Diane  Benison 


Gunther  Schrappe  '94  (far  left,  back  row),  Michael  Passe  '93  and  Jason  Herrick  '93 
(third  and  fourth  from  left,  back  row)  pose  with  staff  of  the  Duang  Prateep  Foundation 
in  Bangkok.  Foundation  founder  Prateep  Ungsongtham  Hata  is  in  the  front  row,  second 
from  right.  Working  with  the  foundation,  the  students  analyzed  the  aftermath  of  a 
chemical  explosion  in  the  Klong  Toey  slum  and  developed  programs  to  educate  resi- 
dents about  the  effects  of  the  chemicals.  Below,  the  Flats,  part  of  Klong  Toey,  sits 
next  to  the  remains  of  a  residential  area  destroyed  in  the  explosion.  The  foundation 
is  dedicated  to  improving  life  for  slum  residents,  especially  children,  opposite. 


WPI  Journal 


17 


a  whole  lot  to  do  with 
reality.  When  our  stu- 
dents come  back,  their 
views  are  very  much  al- 
tered. For  many,  the  ex- 
perience helps  them 
understand  that  stereo- 
types don't  hold  true 
for  individuals.  That's 
part  of  our  intercultural 
training  that  we  hope  to 
impart  to  students." 

That  process  cuts 
both  ways,  she  says,  be- 
cause for  some  Latin 
Americans,  WP1  stu- 
dents help  dispel  the 
stereotype  of  the  gringo 
from  North  America: 
"brash,  loud,  unknow- 
ing about  other  cultures 
and  thinking  the  only 
place  worthwhile  is  the 
United  States.  Stereo- 
types like  that  come 
from  tourists  who've 
seen  inconveniences — 
or  what  they  perceive 
as  inconveniences — as 
negative  aspects  of  an- 
other culture." 

Vernon-Gerstenfeld's  background  in  clini- 
cal psychology  makes  her  keenly  aware  of 
the  emotional  impact  immersion  in  a  foreign 
culture  can  have.  She  talks  to  students  about 
it  before  they  go,  while  they're  away  and  af- 
ter they  get  back.  "We  want  to  teach  stu- 
dents to  ask  themselves,  'What  are  you 
feeling;  what  are  you  acting  on?,'"  she  says. 
"Instead  of  their  colonizing  and  becoming 
defensive,  we  hope  they'll  explore  the  issues 
and  then,  perhaps,  give  up  the  colonizing." 

She  recalls  one  student  who  went  to 
Ecuador  and  spent  most  of  his  free  time 
watching  television  in  his  hotel  room.  As  he 
began  to  realize  that  his  television  habit  was 
a  way  of  dealing  with  his  discomfort  with  the 
culture,  he  relied  on  it  less  and  less.  "As  we 
prepare  these  kids  to  go  abroad,  we  need  to 
teach  them  about  the  variety  of  feelings  they 
may  have  and  suggest  strategies  for  han- 
dling the  ones  that  make  them  uncomfort- 
able." 

After  students  return  from  a  project  site, 
they  meet  with  the  next  set  of  teams  sched- 
uled to  travel  there.  The  returning  teams  dis- 
cuss their  experiences  and  offer  tips  on 
everything  from  how  to  use  public  transpor- 
tation to  how  to  do  laundry.  "I  think  it  works," 


Vernon-Gerstenfeld  says.  "The  vast  majority 
of  our  kids  end  up  being  tremendously  in- 
trigued by  what  happens  to  them." 

5ames  E.  Rollings,  associate  professor 
of  chemical  engineering  and  director 
of  the  Latin  American  Project  Pro- 
gram, is  himself  evidence  of  the  transform- 
ing power  of  living  and  working  in  a  culture 
other  than  one's  own.  Rollings,  who  has 
served  as  the  resident  faculty  advisor  at 
WPI's  newest  project  center  in  Guayaquil, 
Ecuador,  created  in  1992  with  a  five-year, 
$500,000  grant  from  the  U.S.  Agency  for  In- 
ternational Development,  joined  the  Peace 
Corps  after  getting  his  bachelor's  degree  in 
biochemistry.  He  taught  chemistry  and  biol- 
ogy from  1972  to  1975  in  Mombasa,  Kenya. 

When  he  returned  to  the  states  he 
earned  a  second  bachelor's  degree  in 
chemical  engineering  before  going  to  gradu- 
ate school  and  studying  for  a  doctorate  in 
biochemical  engineering.  He'd  come  back 
from  Africa  with  the  thought  that  he  wanted 
to  make  an  impact  on  some  of  the  social 
problems  he'd  seen  while  he  was  in  the 
Peace  Corps.  He  says  WPI's  project-based 
curriculum  and  the  Global  Perspective  Pro- 


Professor  James  Rollings 
directs  WPI's  project 
programs  in  Latin  America. 
He's  seen  here  with  items 
from  Ecuador,  where  he 
served  as  one  of  the  first 
resident  advisors  of  WPI's 
new  Ecuador  Project  Center 
in  Guayaquil. 


gram  have  enormous  appeal  to  him  as  ways 
to  combine  his  views  about  the  importance 
of  expanding  cultural  horizons  with  his 
work  as  a  teacher  and  scientist. 

Rollings  says  he  believes  that  despite 
the  useful  work  achieved  through  IQPs, 
MQPs  and  Humanities  Sufficiencies  done 
abroad,  the  greatest  benefit  is  the  way  the 
Global  Perspective  Program  changes  WPI 
students.  "In  reality,"  he  says,  "by  going 
away  you'll  make  a  greater  change  in  your 
own  society  than  you  will  in  the  society  you 
visit.  By  providing  students  with  that  exter- 
nal moment,  we're  giving  them  a  view  of  the 
world  they  would  never  have  had  except 
by  leaving  home  and  seeing  how  another 
culture  functions. 

"The  culture  shock  is  greater  when  you 
return  than  when  you  leave,  because  some 
of  your  assumptions  may  have  been  ex- 
posed. The  experience  of  having  been  in 
another  culture  makes  it  possible  to  more 
clearly  see — and  perhaps  question — one's 
own  cultural  assumptions." 

Zeugner  says  he  is  "absolutely  convinced 
that  the  most  educational  thing  anybody 
can  do  is  to  sit  in  an  alien  culture  for  an  ex- 
tended period  of  time — not  as  a  tourist,  but 
as  someone  trying  to  function  the  way 
people  in  that  culture  function.  That  exper- 
ience calls  into  question  all  your  assump- 
tions about  how  the  world  works.  All  the 
unconscious  assessments  you  make  to  get 
through  the  day  suddenly  become  con- 
scious. I'm  absolutely,  passionately  con- 
vinced that  nothing  else  we  do  will  have 
as  profound  an  impact  on  students. 

"Is  that  experience  really  worth  it?  From 
an  educational  point  of  view,  absolutely.  It 
will  transform  people  and  open  them  up. 
Studying  the  aftermath  of  a  chemical  explo- 
sion in  a  Bangkok  slum  is  going  to  make 
someone  a  different  kind  of  engineer.  Some- 
body like  that  will  understand  that  cultural 
assumptions  have  a  terrific  impact  on  the 
kinds  of  technological  interactions  that  be- 
come the  life  circumstance  of  engineers. 
They're  not  going  to  think  about  them  in 
the  same  way  again." 


18 


Spring  1993 


'""•  ftiEjS& 


i  LS 


Through  the  Cultural  Festival,  the  African  Mar 
and  a  host  of  other  events,  students  of  many  < 

and  nationalities  are  bringing  the  world  to  WPI. 


Photos  by  Janet  Woodcock 


This  spring,  the  Lower  Wedge  was  filled 

with  the  sights  and  sounds  of  Africa,  as  the  In- 
stitute enjoyed  the  first  African  Marketplace. 
The  event,  sponsored  by  the  Black  Student 
Union  and  the  Black  History  Month  Committee, 
brought  a  number  of  vendors  to  campus  to  dis- 
play "their  wares  and  show  off  African  artifacts, 
including  crafts  from  Kenya  supplied  by  a 
Worcester  business,  bottom,  left. 

The  New  York  City  dance  and  drum  troupe 
"Message  From  Our  Ancestors,"  opposite  page 
and  page  19,  performed  for  an  appreciative  au- 
dience that  included  Lachelle  R.  Hatten  '94, 
right.  Yvonne  V.  Harrison,  director  of  the  Career 
Development  Center,  bottom,  right,  read  a  poem 
by  Frances  Ellen  Watkins  Harper,  one  of  several 
readings  during  the  day. 

The  Marketplace  was  just  one  of  a  host  of 
events  held  on  campus  during  the  year  by  WPFs 
international  students,  who  make  up  about  10 
percent  of  the  undergraduate  student  population 
and  about  half  of  the  college's  full-time  graduate 
students,  in  concert  with  other  students  from  a 
variety  of  backgrounds  and  cultures.  The  events 


*«$fc 


■SJN*# 


l-c? 


were  designed  to  let  the  students  share  their  traditions, 
crafts,  cuisines  and  arts  with  the  WPI  and  Greater 
Worcester  communities. 

A  major  annual  event  aimed  at  achieving  that  goal 
is  the  Cultural  Festival,  which  observed  its  eighth  anni- 
versary this  spring.  Sponsored  by  WPI's  International 
Student  Council,  the  festival  offers  visitors  the  chance 
to  sample  arts,  crafts  and  food  from  the  cultures  of 
WPI's  international  students.  Performances  and  dem- 
onstrations, planned  and  mounted  by  the  students 
themselves,  run  continuously  on  stage  throughout  the 
four-hour  event. 

At  this  year's  festival,  visitors  were  treated  to  Latin 
dances  by  a  troupe  that  included  Carlos  A.  Zapata  '95, 
a  native  of  Venezuela,  and  Leila  J.  Carvajal  '96  from 
Ecuador,  opposite.  The  dancers  were  members  of  the 
Hispanic  Student  Association.  The  Chinese  Student 
Association  purchased  a  1 10-foot  ceremonial  dragon,  top  of 
page,  which  they  paraded  around  Alden  Memorial  in  a  high- 
light of  the  festival.  In  China,  the  dragon  dance  is  a  traditional 
part  of  the  New  Year's  festivities. 

Students  also  shared  dishes  from  their  homelands,  prepared 
by  WPI's  food  service,  and  displayed  crafts  and  artifacts  from 
their  cultures  (see  bottom  photo,  next  page).  These  included  an 
assortment  of  Islamic  items  provided  by  the  Muslim  Student 
Association,  above.  Richard  H.  Kim  '95,  in  midair,  next  page, 


was  part  of  a  team  that  put  on  a  demonstration  of  Tae  Kwon  Do, 
a  form  of  Korean  martial  arts. 

The  annual  festival  is  open  to  the  entire  Worcester  commu- 
nity, and  each  year  many  students  from  Worcester-area  schools 
stop  by  to  enjoy  the  sights,  sounds  and  tastes.  A  snowstorm  kept 
most  schoolchildren  from  enjoying  the  1993  festival,  but  more 
than  1,500  students  came  in  1992.  In  1991,  the  City  Council 
declared  the  day  of  the  Cultural  Festival  "International  Student 
Day"  in  Worcester. 


22 


Spring  1993 


Sl*J 


**<*%)' 


I      -■ 


4 


J*'* 


.....  m^ 


Outreach  to  the  public  schools  has 
become  an  important  mission  of  the  In- 
stitute's international  students.  This  year 
some  40  students  visited  Worcester  public 
schools  to  talk  about  their  cultures.  Their 
efforts  are  part  of  a  project  called  Globali- 
zing the  Curriculum,  being  undertaken  by 
WPI  and  the  Worcester  School  System. 
Funded  in  part  by  a  U.S.  Department  of 
Education  grant,  the  project  seeks  to  help 
young  students  understand  and  appreciate 
other  cultures. 

Tom  H.  Thomsen,  associate  dean  of 
student  life  and  international  student  ad- 
visor, says  he  hopes  WPI  students  can 
share  many  elements  of  their  cultures  with 
Worcester  schoolchildren,  as  they  did  this 
year  with  the  WPI  community  through 
a  Chinese  film  series,  an  Asian  Dinner  that 
featured  food  from  Indonesia,  Korea,  Thai- 
land and  Vietnam,  and  Hispanic  Aware- 
ness Week,  complete  with  a  speaker,  a 
band  and  movies. 

Thomsen  says  these  many  activities  are  clear  evidence 
that  at  WPI,  globalization  is  a  two-way  street.  He  says  that  just 
as  spending  seven  weeks  in  another  country  can  broaden  a 
student's  horizons,  interacting  with  students  from  other  nations 
and  backgrounds  on  campus  can  be  a  powerful  and  effective 
way  to  learn  about  other  cultures. 


"Living  with  an  international  roommate,  for  example,"  he 
says,  "can  be  just  as  effective  an  introduction  to  another  culture 
as  traveling  to  an  overseas  project  center.  We  want  all  students, 
including  those  who  for  whatever  reason  can't  leave  campus,  to 
be  able  to  say  they  have  truly  been  exposed  to  people  from 
other  cultures  before  they  graduate." 


24 


Spring  1993 


The  La 


iW 


of  the  Frontier 


Once  thought  of  as  stodgy,  patent  law 


today  is  anything  but.  Patent  attorneys 


are  helping  shape  the  leading  edges 


of  science  and  technology,  trying 


cases  where  millions  of  dollars  hang 


in  the  balance,  and  working  to  bring 


greater  harmony  to  patent  systems 


around  the  world.  The  best  part? 


Opportunities  abound  for  technically 


trained  men  and  women. 


By  Michael  W.  Dorsey 


t  is,  to  be  sure,  a  quiet  revolution.  But  in  law  firms  across 
the  country,  attorneys  are  noticing  a  striking  trend.  After 
decades  of  relative  obscurity,  the  law  of  intellectual  property 
— patents,  copyrights,  trademarks,  trade  secrets  and  unfair 
competition — is  emerging  as  one  of  the  hottest  areas  of  legal 
practice.  As  a  recent  article  in  the  ABA  Journal,  the  magazine 
of  the  American  Bar  Association,  put  it,  "Forget  the  trendy  law  practice 
areas  of  the  1980s,  such  as  mergers  and  acquisitions,  real  estate  and 
antitrust.  Intellectual  property  is  where  the  action  will  be  in  the  1990s." 

If  intellectual  property  is  hot,  patent  law  is  truly  incandescent.  "A 
good  demonstration  of  that  is  the  fact  that  many  of  the  major  general 
law  firms  around  the  country  are  attempting  to  purchase  or  acquire 
smaller  patent  law  firms,"  notes  Paul  N.  Kokulis  '45,  senior  partner  at 
Cushman,  Darby  &  Cushman,  one  of  the  largest  intellectual  property 
firms  in  Washington,  D.C.  "These  firms  all  have  real  estate  sections, 
banking  sections,  antitrust  sections,  environmental  sections  and  so 
on.  Now  they  want  to  have  intellectual  property  sections,  as  well." 

Kokulis,  whose  areas  of  expertise  include  biotechnology  and  bio- 
chemistry, says  the  explosive  growth  of  new  technology  around  the 
world  is  one  factor  in  the  renewed  interest  in  patents  and  patent 
law.  "In  addition,"  he  says,  "of  all  the  areas  of  legal  practice,  intellec- 
tual property  is  probably  the  most  resistant  to  economic  downturns. 
It's  certainly  not  recession-proof,  but  in  tough  times,  when  corpor- 
ations aren't  doing  as  much  research  and  development,  they  want 
to  protect  their  existing  business  areas  more  vigorously.  And  that 
creates  more  activity  in  the  patent  field." 

All  this  translates  into  growing  opportunities  for  young  lawyers  in 
a  field  that  has  rarely — if  ever — been  oversaturated,  notes  Lawrence 
F.  Scinto  '51,  partner  with  Fitzpatrick,  Cella,  Harper  &  Scinto  in  New 
York  City,  among  the  largest  intellectual  property  firms  in  the  nation. 
"This  field  is  just  beginning  to  realize  its  potential,"  he  says.  "With  the 
growing  demand  by  corporations  for  protection  for  their  intellectual 
property  and  the  rising  awareness  of  the  importance  of  intellectual 
property  assets,  people  entering  the  profession  today  will  find  they 
are  joining  a  truly  growing  field." 


WPI  Journal 


25 


ii 


T 

I  he  American  patent  system,  authorized  by  Article  I  of  the 
Jl  U.S.  Constitution,  was  the  invention  of  Thomas  Jefferson, 
who  also  served  as  the  first  commissioner  of  patents.  As 
conceived  by  Jefferson  and  formally  codified  in  the  federal 
patent  statutes  (the  first  patent  act  was  signed  into  law  by 
George  Washington  in  1790),  a  patent  is  a  legal  monopoly 
granted  to  an  inventor. 

A  patent  gives  an  inventor  the  right  to  exclude  others  from 
using  his  or  her  invention  for  17  years  from  the  date  the 
patent  is  granted.  A  patent  holder  can  license  the  patented 
technology  to  others,  who  pay  royalties  for  the  privilege  of 
using  it.  Patents  can  also  be  bought  and  sold  like  other  per- 
sonal property.  Patent  protection  is  designed  to  encourage  the 
kind  of  innovation  and  technical  progress  that  can  benefit  the 
nation  as  a  whole. 

Not  every  invention  is  patentable.  The  task  of  deciding 
what  "process,  machine,  manufacture  or  composition  of  mat- 
ter, or  any  new  and  useful  improve- 
ments thereof,"  is  worthy  of  patent 
protection  falls  to  the  more  than  1,400 
patent  examiners  who  work  in  the 
modern  facilities  of  the  U.S.  Patent  and 
Trademark  Office  in  Crystal  City,  Va. 
In  making  their  decisions,  they  are 
guided  by  several  key  principles. 

First  and  foremost,  an  invention 
must  truly  be  new.  Examiners  will 
search  through  the  millions  of  patents 
on  file  in  Crystal  City  to  make  sure  a 
patent  has  not  already  been  granted 
for  the  invention.  In  addition,  they'll 
want  to  be  sure  the  device  or  process 
was  not  already  in  use  or  described  in 
print  before  the  inventor  supposedly 
thought  of  it. 

While  it  is  possible  to  get  a  patent 
for  an  improvement  on  an  existing  de- 
vice, process  or  composition  of  mat- 
ter, if  the  examiner  determines  that 
the  improvement  would  have  been 
"obvious"  to  anyone  skilled  in  the  art  to  which  the  invention 
relates,  the  patent  will  be  denied. 

The  invention  must  also  be  useful.  In  other  words,  the 
inventor  must  be  able  to  demonstrate  that  what  he  or  she  has 
created  has  practical  value.  Finally,  the  examiners  must  decide 
if  the  inventor  has  adequately  disclosed  the  details  of  the 
invention  in  a  manner  that  will  allow  others  skilled  in  the  art 
of  the  field  to  reproduce  it. 

"The  real  reason  for  patents — the  reason  the  government 
gives  you  this  right  to  exclude — is  that  you  are  telling  the 
world  about  your  invention,"  says  C.  Marshall  Dann  '35,  former 
U.S.  commissioner  of  patents  and  trademarks  who  is  now 
largely  retired  from  the  firm  of  Dann,  Dorfman,  Herrell  and 
Skillman  in  Philadelphia.  "Once  your  patent  runs  out,  every- 
one else  will  be  free  to  use  it.  So  it's  important  that  the 
invention  be  disclosed  in  a  sound,  technical  manner." 

While  most  of  the  early  patents  granted  in  the  U.S.  went  to 


If  you  have  something 
good,  you  can  keep  it  out  of 
your  competitor's  hands  by 
protecting  it  with  a  patent. . . . 


individual  inventors,  today  a  large  share  are  owned  by  corpo- 
rations. In  fact,  patents  have  become  a  cornerstone  of  our 
modern  industrial  society,  since  they  help  companies  maintain  a 
technical  edge  over  their  domestic  and  foreign  competitors.  Cor- 
porations are,  of  course,  under  no  obligation  to  patent  their 
inventions,  and  some  decide  instead  to  keep  their  technology 
trade  secrets.  But  that  route  has  its  risks,  Dann  says. 

"There  aren't  many  things  you  can  keep  secret  for  long. 
You  might  be  able  to  conceal  some  little  process  wrinkle.  But  if 
it's  anything  a  competitor  can  tell  from  your  product — or 
something  he  can  discover  independently — it's  fair  game.  And 
employees  move  about  a  great  deal  today.  Even  if  they  don't 
intentionally  steal  your  secrets,  they  can  transmit  a  good  deal 
of  information  to  their  new  employers.  And,  of  course,  there's 
a  certain  amount  of  commercial  espionage. 

"If  you  have  something  good,  you  can  keep  it  out  of  your 
competitor's  hands  by  protecting  it  with  a  patent — assuming 
it's  a  good  patent.  Or  you  can  make 
some  money  licensing  it.  The  bottom 
line  is  that  most  companies  simply 
can't  afford  to  ignore  patents." 


The  bottom  line  is  that  most 
companies  simply  can 't  afford 

W 

to  ignore  patents: 


atent  attorneys  beginning  their 
careers  today  will  find  a  legal  sys- 
tem far  more  friendly  to  their  work 
than  the  system  Dann,  Kokulis,  Scinto 
and  most  of  the  more  than  40  WPI 
alumni  who  work  as  patent 
attorneys  discovered  when  they 
entered  the  field. 

In  the  1930s,  the  tradition  of  pro- 
tecting the  rights  of  American  inven- 
tors ran  afoul  of  growing  antitrust 
sentiment.  "The  Temporary  National 
Economic  Committee,  a  joint  execu- 
tive-legislative body  established  in 
1938  to  curb  monopolies,  made  a 
lot  of  noise  about  corporate  abuse 
of  patents,"  Dann  notes.  "They 
started  out  to  prove  a  preconceived  notion  and  in  the  process 
painted  the  whole  patent  system  pretty  blackly." 

According  to  Paul  M.  Craig  Jr.  '45,  consulting  attorney  at 
Dow,  Lohnes  &  Albertson  in  Washington,  D.C.,  at  least  some  of 
the  antitrust  fever  was  justified.  "In  the  1920s  and  1930s,  some 
companies  were  pooling  patents  to  fix  prices  or  to  keep  out- 
siders out,"  he  says.  "That  helped  give  the  patent  system  a 
bad  name." 

The  anti-patent  sentiment  that  emerged  in  the  courts  in 
the  1930s  and  1940s  persisted  for  decades  and  came  to  play 
an  important  role  in  how  attorneys  approached  patent- 
related  court  cases,  says  Scinto,  whose  specialty  is  patent 
litigation.  Until  recently,  patent  cases  were  tried  in  10  federal 
circuit  courts  that  had  disparate  records  on  patent  litigation. 
"Some  circuits  didn't  hold  a  patent  valid  for  10  to  15  years," 
Scinto  says.  "Others  were  more  hospitable.  It  was  a  common 

(Continued  on  Page  28) 


26 


Spring  1993 


PATENT  PROFILES 

C.  Marshall  Dann  '35 


After  he  graduated  from  WPI  in 
1935  with  his  degree  in  chem- 
istry, C.  Marshall  Dann  settled 
down  at  DuPont  for  what  seemed  like 
the  start  of  a  long  career  in  chemistry. 
But  in  1945,  Dann  was  assigned  to  a 
patent  liaison  group  in  DuPont 's  Pig- 
ments Department.  "I  thought  patent 
law  seemed  like  a  pretty  good  field," 
he  says.  "I  decided  if  I  was  going  to 
be  in  it,  I'd  rather  be  all  the  way  in 
rather  than  halfway." 

For  four  years,  Dann  worked  in 
DuPont's  Washington,  D.C.,  office  as  a 
patent  agent  while  attending 
Georgetown  University  at  night.  In 
1 949,  with  his  bachelor  of  laws  degree 
in  hand,  he  returned  to  the  company's 
Wilmington,  Del.,  headquarters  as  a  patent  attorney.  One  of  his 
first  assignments  was  to  help  out  with  a  major  antitrust  case  the 
federal  government  had  filed  against  DuPont  and  Imperial 
Chemical  Industries  of  Great  Britain.  (That  case  would  also 
figure  prominently  in  the  start  of  Paul  Kokulis'  career  as  a 
patent  attorney;  see  page  30.) 

When  the  antitrust  case  was  over,  Dann  worked  on  patent 
cases  involving  new  organic  chemicals,  including  polyurethanes, 
which  were  just  then  being  introduced.  In  1954,  he  was  promoted 
to  assistant  manager  of  DuPont's  Patent  Department.  At  that  time, 
Dann  says,  DuPont  was  filing  about  800  patent  applications  a  year 
and  receiving  about  500  new  patents. 

"During  those  years,  I  was  concerned  with  patent  matters 
across  the  board,  rather  than  specific  cases,"  he  says.  "But 
there  were  a  few  lawsuits  I  was  directly  involved  in."  In  one 
case,  DuPont  sued  Phillips  Petroleum  Co.,  alleging  the  corpora- 
tion had  infringed  its  patent  for  linear  polyethylene,  a  plastic 
used  in  containers,  electrical  insulation  and  packaging.  After 
three  years,  the  case  was  settled  out  of  court,  with  Phillips 
receiving  a  license  to  make  the  compound  in  return  for  financial 
and  other  considerations. 

Dann  was  named  DuPont's  chief  patent  counsel  in  1968. 
Six  years  later,  after  nearly  30  years  with  the  company,  he 
received  a  job  offer.  "I  got  a  call  from  a  gentleman  who  said,  'I'm 
from  the  White  House,'"  Dann  says.  "I  sat  up  a  little  straighter. 
He  said,  'Have  you  ever  thought  about  taking  early  retire- 
ment and  becoming  commissioner  of  patents?'" 

At  first  reluctant  to  leave  Wilmington,  Dann  finally  ac- 
cepted. "I  had  been  sitting  in  the  same  corner  office  for  quite  a 
number  of  years  and  a  change  began  to  seem  attractive,"  he 


says.  One  of  the  major  challenges  he 
faced  during  his  three  years  in  Wash- 
ington was  resolving  a  conflict  between 
the  Commerce  Department,  which 
includes  the  Patent  and  Trademark 
Office,  and  the  Justice  Department  over 
a  proposed  patent  reform  bill. 

The  bill,  which  grew  out  of  a  set  of 
far-reaching  recommendations  of  a 
Johnson  administration  commission 
on  patent  reform,  was  amended  to 
include  a  troublesome  provision  that 
would  have  made  it  easier  for  corp- 
orations to  avoid  antitrust  action  when 
they  granted  licenses  on  their  patents. 
"That  had  the  effect  of  getting  the 
Justice  Department  involved,"  Dann  says. 
Justice  prepared  its  own  reform 
bill  that  would  have  greatly  complicated  the  process  of  pros- 
ecuting patents.  "It  seemed  to  me,  as  it  did  to  a  lot  of  other 
people,  that  the  bill  as  it  stood  would  have  discouraged  many 
inventors  who  wanted  to  protect  their  property,"  Dann  says. 
One  of  the  duties  of  the  commissioner  of  patents  is  to  revise 
or  expand  the  formal  rules  governing  the  operation  of  the 
Patent  Office,  as  needed.  Dann  put  in  place  new  rules  that 
incorporated  the  better  parts  of  the  Justice  Department  bill, 
but  which  were  less  burdensome  to  potential  patentees.  "Jus- 
tice backed  off  and  lost  interest  after  that,"  Dann  says.  "The 
rules  had  the  desired  effect  of  stopping  all  the  activity 
aimed  at  radically  remaking  the  patent  laws." 

In  1977,  after  the  election  of  Jimmy  Carter,  Dann  joined  the 
intellectual  property  firm  of  Dann,  Dorfman,  Herrell  and 
Skillman  in  Philadelphia.  Over  the  next  10  years  he  served  as 
an  expert  witness  in  numerous  interference  and  infringe- 
ment cases  around  the  country,  including  45  that  made  it  to 
the  courtroom.  "I  testified  about  patent  procedure 
and  about  the  meaning  of  the  claims  in  a  patent,"  he  says. 
"Claims  define  the  patentee's  right  to  exclude  others,  and 
they  must  always  be  interpreted  by  the  court." 

While  he  testified  on  behalf  of  all  manner  of  plaintiffs 
and  defendants— from  major  corporations  like  Dow,  American 
Can,  Pfizer  and  3M,  to  individual  inventors — one  case  was 
especially  rewarding,  Dann  says.  "An  Illinois  farmer  named 
Billy  Watkins  had  invented  a  device  used  in  tractor-pull 
contests.  It  slowly  increased  the  weight  on  the  tractor  as  it 
pulled  forward,  so  the  tractor  would  eventually  stop.  He  sued 
the  National  Tractor  Pull  Association,  which  had  ignored  his 
patent.  He  eventually  won  an  injunction." 


WPI  Journal 


27 


(Continued  from  Page  26) 

tactic  in  those  days  to  bring  an  action  in  a  circuit  you  believed 

would  look  more  favorably  on  patents." 

In  the  early  1980s,  alarmed  at  the  apparent  lack  of  unifor- 
mity of  the  country's  patent  system,  which  resulted  in  this  so- 
called  "forum-shopping,"  the  U.S.  Congress  decided  the  time 
had  come  for  change.  "One  thing  that  pushed  Congress  to  act 
was  concern  about  the  trade  deficit  and  foreign  competition," 
Dann  says.  "Fifty  years  ago,  90  percent  of  all  U.S.  patents  were 
obtained  by  U.S.  citizens.  Now  it's  about  50  percent.  If  you 
destroy  the  incentives  for  U.S.  inventors  to  file  patent  applica- 
tions, you're  giving  the  competition  an  edge." 

In  1982,  Congress  created  the  Court  of  Appeals  for  the 
Federal  Circuit.  Formed  by  combining  the  Court  of  Customs 
and  Patent  Appeals  and  the  Court  of  Claims,  the  new  body 
became  the  sole  jurisdiction  for  appealing  patent  cases  from 
any  federal  district  court  around  the  country.  The  Federal 
Circuit  Court  removed  much  of  the  preexisting  regional 
anti-patent  bias  and  "put  a  lot  of  vitality  back  into  the 
patent  system,"  Craig  says. 

While  the  new  court  has  raised  the  value  of  patents  in  all 
industries,  it's  had  a  particularly  profound  effect  on  makers  of 
computers,  notes  high-technology  specialist  William  L. 
Anthony  Jr.  '61,  a  partner  with  Brobeck,  Phleger  &  Harrison  in 
Palo  Alto,  Calif.  "Before  the  creation  of  the  Federal  Circuit 
Court,  patents  were  virtually  unenforceable  in  California,  the 
home  of  a  substantial  portion  of  America's  high-technology 
industry,"  he  says. 

Before  1982,  Anthony  notes,  high-technology  companies 
were  more  likely  to  license  their  technology  for  meager  fees 
than  to  attempt  to  enforce  their  patents.  And  companies  came 
to  rely  on  trade  secrets,  rather  than  patents,  to  protect  their 
inventions.  Even  so, 
technology  moved  rela- 
tively freely  from  com- 
pany to  company  as 
engineers  changed  jobs 
or  started  their  own 
firms.  In  fact,  he  notes, 
the  explosive  growth  of 
the  high-technology  in- 
dustry in  the  1970s  is  at- 
tributable, in  part,  to 
"the  peculiar  mores  of 
Silicon  Valley  (com- 
monly referred  to  as  'pi- 
racy' in  other  parts  of 
the  world)." 

Today,  most  high- 
technology  companies  have  beefed  up  their  patent  depart- 
ments and  their  patents  are  garnering  respectable  royalties. 
Companies  like  Texas  Instruments  and  Motorola,  which  bucked 
the  trend  in  the  1970s  and  stockpiled  patents  on  their  in- 
ventions, are  now  reaping  the  rewards  of  those  higher  royal- 
ties. In  fact,  insiders  say,  these  and  some  other  major 
companies  now  earn  more  from  their  patents  than  from  sales 
of  their  products. 


William  L.  Anthony  '61,  a  partner  with  Brobeck, 
Phleger  &  Harrison  in  Palo  Alto,  has  made  a 
specialty  of  high-technology  patent  litigation. 


R 


eople  often  think  a  patent  gives  them  some  property," 
1  Dann  says.  "But  it  really  doesn't  give  them  anything  until  a 


u 


I 


Fifty  years  ago,  90  percent  of  all  U.S.  patents 
were  obtained  by  U.S.  citizens.  Now  it's  about 

50  percent.  If  you  destroy  the  incentive  for 
U.S.  inventors  to  file  patent  applications,  you're 
giving  the  competition  an  edge. 


court  says  it's  a  good 
patent."  The  truth  of  that 
statement  is  illustrated 
by  the  marked  increase 
in  patent-related  court 
cases  that  followed  the 
creation  of  the  Federal 
Circuit  Court.  In  addition 
to  increasing  the  value 
of  patents — and  the 
incentive  to  fight  for 
them — the  court  raised 
the  stakes  in  patent 
litigation. 

When  federal  courts 
were  as  likely  to  rule  a 
patent  invalid  as  to  sanc- 
tion an  infringer,  corporations  were  less  inhibited  about  help- 
ing themselves  to  patented  technology.  But  the  Federal  Circuit 
Court  is  far  more  prone  than  earlier  courts  to  come  down 
hard  on  infringers,  imposing  damages  and  fees  that  make 
those  levied  by  those  earlier  courts  seem  tame. 

"At  one  time  it  was  the  norm  for  a  damage  recovery  in 
a  patent  case  to  be  limited  to  a  reasonable  royalty,"  Scinto 

(Continued  on  Page  31) 


28 


Spring  1993 


Protecting  Intellectual 
Property  on  Campus 


With  their  mission  to  pursue  and  disseminate  new 
knowledge,  it's  not  surprising  that  colleges  and 
universities  have  long  been  hotbeds  of  intellectual 
property.  But  it  has  only  been  in  recent  years  that  many 
research  institutions  have  become  aggressive  about  pro- 
tecting the  inventions  and  other  creations  of  their  faculty 
members  and  students  and  putting  that  property  to  use 
to  generate  revenue. 

WPI  developed  its  first  intellectual  property  policy  in 
the  early  1970s.  Among  other  things,  the  policy  specifies 
when  the  Institute  is  entitled  to  the  rights  to  patents, 
copyrights  and  trademarks  for  intellectual  property 
created  by  its  faculty  and  students  and  spells  out  how 
royalties  generated  by  that  property  will  be  shared  by 
the  college  and  the  inventors  or  authors. 

During  the  last  year,  a  committee  of  faculty  members 
has  been  at  work  updating  that  policy.  One  of  the  key 
changes  they  plan  to  recommend  will  require  the  college 
to  determine  whether  a  faculty  or  student  invention  has 
commercial  potential  before  deciding  whether  to  pursue 
a  patent  for  it. 

"These  days,  with  the  competitive  pressures  of  a 
global  economy,  it  is  often  wise  to  apply  for  patents  in 
several  nations,  not  just  in  the  U.S.,"  notes  Kevin  A. 
Clements,  dean  of  graduate  studies  and  research.  "It 
costs  a  lot  of  money— perhaps  $20,000  to  $30,000— to 
go  through  that  process.  So  we  have  to  decide  early  on 
whether  an  invention  is  commercially  viable  and,  there- 
fore, worth  patenting." 

To  help  it  make  that  decision,  WPI  recently  joined 
with  six  other  Worcester-area  research  institutions  in 
creating  the  Unified  Office  of  Technology  Transfer  at 
the  Massachusetts  Biotechnology  Research  Institute  in 
Worcester.  Heading  that  office  is  Skip  Irving,  whose  jobs 
include  helping  the  institutions  identify  commercially 
viable  inventions,  monitoring  the  process  of  patenting 
those  inventions,  brokering  licensing  agreements  with 
companies  and  other  partners,  and  providing  assistance 
to  faculty  and  students  who  may  wish  to  license  their 
own  inventions  from  the  Institute  to  start  new  companies. 

Currently,  WPI  owns  about  a  dozen  patents  and  has 
applications  pending  on  several  more.  Several  other  in- 
ventions are  being  evaluated,  including  at  least  a  few  that 
have  been  developed  as  part  of  undergraduate  student 
projects.  In  fact,  Irving  says,  one  student  project  is  now 
the  subject  of  negotiations  with  a  major  medical  products 
manufacturer  and  the  prospects  for  licensing  look  good. 


Skip  Irving  of  the  Unified  Office  of  Technology 
Transfer  helps  WPI  decide  what's  worth  patenting. 


In  addition  to  these,  a  few  faculty  members  have  patented 
their  own  inventions.  At  least  one  company  has  been 
founded  based  on  faculty  inventions  and  more  are  cur- 
rently in  the  works. 

Irving  says  he  hopes  to  see  these  numbers  rise  as 
more  faculty  and  students  become  aware  of  the  advan- 
tages of  protecting  their  inventions.  "There  are  some 
misconceptions  we  have  to  overcome,"  he  says.  "Some 
concern  the  conflict  between  patenting  and  publishing 
and  how  patenting  fits  into  the  mission  and  culture  of 
an  academic  institution." 

Irving  says  patenting  and  publishing  should  not  be  in 
conflict.  With  a  little  lead  time,  a  U.S.  patent  can  be  ap- 
plied for  prior  to  publication,  preserving  the  right  to 
patent  on  a  worldwide  basis.  "I  want  people  to  publish," 
he  says.  "That's  my  best  advertising.  That  paper  will  be 
read  by  peers  and  by  people  at  corporations.  There's  no 
conflict  at  all;  in  fact,  the  two  should  work  in  synergy." 

Irving  says  that  while  the  Institute  will  ultimately 
receive  some  income  from  its  investment  in  intellectual 
property,  the  most  important  benefits  will  not  be  mea- 
sured in  dollars  and  cents.  "For  faculty  members,  patent- 
ing is  an  opportunity  to  get  their  research  into  the  hands 
of  people  who  can  turn  it  into  commercial  products  or 
processes,"  he  says.  "For  students,  it  helps  them  develop 
an  entrepreneurial  spirit  and  teaches  them  something 
about  the  commercialization  of  technology.  That  experi- 
ence will  serve  them  well  when  they  leave  academia." 


WPI  Journal 


29 


PATENT  PROFILES 


Paul  N.  Kokulis  '45 


Paul  Kokulis  has  made  a  specialty 
of  patent  interferences,  pro- 
ceedings that  seek  to  determine 
the  rightful  holder  of  a  patent  when 
two  or  more  companies  or  individual 
inventors  claim  that  right.  "I  would 
guess  that  most  patent  attorneys  have 
one  or  two  interferences  in  a  lifetime,"  he  says.  "I  juggle  15  to  20 
such  cases  in  a  typical  year." 

Kokulis  says  patent  law  was  the  farthest  thing  from  his  mind 
when  he  received  his  degree  in  chemical  engineering  from  WP1 
in  1944.  He  went  to  work  for  the  Naval  Research  Laboratory  as 
part  of  the  Manhattan  Project  team,  but  left  engineering  after 
World  War  II.  He  left,  in  part,  he  says,  because  he  felt  other 
members  of  his  research  group,  most  of  whom  had  advanced 
degrees,  "were  way  ahead  of  me  in  their  thinking.  I  didn't  feel 
creative  enough  to  make  a  contribution." 

For  a  time  he  considered  taking  a  job  as  a  science  teacher 
and  a  baseball  and  basketball  coach  in  the  Springfield,  Mass., 
school  system.  But  one  day  classmate  Philip  H.  Sheridan,  who 
is  now  a  partner  with  Sheridan,  Ross  &  Mcintosh  in  Denver, 
urged  him  to  apply  for  a  post  at  the  law  firm  of  Cushman,  Darby 
&  Cushman  in  Washington,  D.C.,  which  was  looking  for  some- 
one with  experience  in  chemistry. 

"They  offered  me  the  position  and  paid  my  way  through  law 
school,"  says  Kokulis,  who  earned  his  bachelor  of  laws  degree 
at  George  Washington  University  by  taking  classes  at  night.  "It 
was  exactly  what  I  needed.  It  has  been  a  wonderful  combination 
of  science  and  the  law.  And  it  has  allowed  me  to  work  with 
people  at  the  frontiers  of  science." 

Shortly  after  he  joined  the  firm,  a  federal  judge,  in  a  major 
antitrust  decision,  ordered  DuPont  and  the  British  company 
Imperial  Chemical  Industries  (ICO  to  terminate  an  agreement 
under  which  each  company  had  filed  for  patents  on  the  other's 


inventions  in  its  own  country.  Faced 
with  the  need  to  pursue  its  own  Ameri- 
can patents,  ICI  turned  to  Cushman, 
Darby  &  Cushman. 

"I  was  one  of  just  two  chemistry 

people  at  the  firm  then,"  Kokulis  says. 

"One  day  an  ICI  man  walked  into  my 

office  with  400  pending  patent  applications,  one  or  two  appeals 

and  some  interferences.  It  was  a  wonderful  opportunity  for 

someone  who  was  just  beginning  law  school." 

ICI  has  remained  a  principal  client.  In  the  1950s,  Kokulis 
worked  with  ICI  and  other  companies  on  patents  involving 
the  highly  competitive  field  of  fibers  and  fabrics  for  clothing. 
He  handled  several  interferences  involving  new  reactive 
dyes,  permanent  press  finishes  and  stretch  fabrics. 

The  1950s  and  1960s  also  saw  the  growth  of  the  pharma- 
ceutical industry,  and  Kokulis  found  himself  handling  patents 
on  major  new  drugs,  including  Halothane  (an  ICI  invention 
that  replaced  ether  as  the  anesthetic  of  choice  in  surgery), 
beta  blockers  (drugs  used  to  treat  angina  and  other  heart 
ailments)  and  tamoxifen  (the  treatment  of  choice  for 
breast  cancer). 

In  the  early  1980s,  a  significant  amount  of  Kokulis'  focus 
shifted  to  the  emerging  field  of  biotechnology.  Today  this 
discipline  constitutes  much  of  the  work  he  does  for  clients  that 
include  major  U.S.  and  foreign  companies,  universities  and 
research  institutions.  The  technologies  he  has  been  involved 
with  range  from  blood  growth  factors  to  AIDS  test  kits  to 
DNA  fingerprinting. 

"My  involvement  has  been  right  there  at  the  forefront  of 
biochemistry,"  he  says.  "It's  certainly  been  an  exciting  field  to 
work  in.  If  I  were  a  young  man  starting  out  in  patent  law, 
I'd  concentrate  my  efforts  on  this  field,  because  there  are 
some  tremendously  satisfying  opportunities  out  there." 


30 


Spring  1993 


' 


(Continued  from  Page  28) 

says.  "It  was  rare  that  a  successful  patentee  could  receive 
an  award  of  lost  profits.  Of  late,  with  more  imagination  going  into 
damage  calculations,  awards  are  getting  more  significant  and  com- 
panies are  looking  at  their  patent  portfolios  as  profit  centers." 

"Patent  damage  awards  have  become  so  substantial  that 
many  major  corporations  factor  litigation-driven  settlements 
and  damages  into  their  revenue  projections  as  if  they  were 
expected  income,"  Anthony  says.  "Texas  Instruments,  for 
example,  has  generated  more  than  $600  million  in  royalties  in 
recent  years  as  a  result  of  zealous  patent  litigation." 

Anthony  notes  that  the  Federal  Circuit  Court  is  also  more 
likely  to  invoke  a  provision  for  granting  treble  damages  in 
cases  where  a  defendant  knowingly  infringes  a  patent.  All 
this  has  resulted  in  some  staggering  awards:  $56  million  for  an 
antibiotic  patent  in  Pfizer  v.  International  Rectifier;  $125  mil- 
lion for  a  patented  cookie  recipe  in  Procter  &  Gamble  v. 
Nabisco;  and  $205  million  for  a  patent 
covering  the  design  of  a  rock  drill  bit 
in  Smith  Industries  v.  Hughes  Tools. 

In  the  most  celebrated  outcome,  a 
judge  awarded  Polaroid  more  than 
$900  million  after  ruling  that  Kodak 
had  infringed  its  instant  photography 
patents.  But  Anthony  says  a  new  pre- 
cedent may  be  in  the  wings:  in  a  cur- 
rent case,  Hughes  Aircraft  Co.  is 
accusing  the  U.S.  government  of  in- 
fringing its  patents  for  satellite  atti- 
tude-control systems.  "Hughes  has 
requested  $3.3  billion,"  he  says.  "It  is 
considered  by  many  to  be  a  reason- 
able estimate." 

While  most  companies  can  absorb 
"reasonable  royalties"  into  their  bot- 
tom lines,  the  consequences  of  today's 
larger  damage  awards  can  be  more 
severe.  "Companies  are  being  put  out 
of  business,"  Dann  says.  "That's  why 
any  company  in  any  business  where 
there  might  be  inventions  must  pay 
attention  to  patents.  Not  only  is  it  im- 
portant to  protect  their  own  intellec- 
tual property,  but  they  better  make  sure  what  they're  doing 
doesn't  infringe  someone  else's  patents." 

While  the  change  in  the  judicial  landscape  has  made  cor- 
porations more  cautious — and  emboldened  individual  inven- 
tors, who  in  the  past  might  not  have  taken  on  large  corporate 
infringers — the  escalating  costs  of  bringing  a  patent  case  to 
trial  can  still  tip  the  balance  in  favor  of  larger  companies, 
Craig  says.  "Litigation  has  become  terribly  expensive,"  he 
says.  "We  are  pricing  it  out  of  the  reach  of  most  individual 
Americans." 

Last  year,  the  firm  of  Morrison  &  Foster  estimated  that  a 
patent  trial  can  easily  cost  between  $1  million  and  $4  million. 
"It  can  take  $50,000  to  $100,000  just  to  get  a  case  on  file,"  Craig 
notes.  "More  and  more,  small  companies  just  can't 
afford  to  enforce  their  patents.  And  because  litigation  costs 


More  and  more,  small 

companies  just  can 't  afford  to 

enforce  their  patents.  And 

because  litigation  costs  are 

deductible,  the  company  with 

the  deepest  pockets  has  an 

advantage  that  enhances  its 

chances  of  prevailing. 


are  deductible,  the  company  with  the  deepest  pockets  has  an 
advantage  that  enhances  its  chances  of  prevailing." 

With  so  much  at  stake,  strategy  has  become  critical  in 
patent  litigation.  One  key  strategic  decision  that  must  be 
made  early  on  is  whether  to  bring  a  case  before  a  judge  or  a 
jury,  Scinto  says.  "When  I  started  in  patent  litigation,  attor- 
neys were  more  likely  to  try  cases  before  the  court,  rather 
than  a  jury.  There  is  an  active  trend  today  for  exercising  the 
constitutional  right  to  a  jury  trial. 

"Patentees  often  feel  that  juries  will  be  more  favorably 
inclined  to  a  patent  that  has  survived  the  scrutiny  of  a  govern- 
ment review  than  to  a  challenger  who  says  everything  in  the 
patent  was  obvious  from  the  prior  art."  In  addition,  individual 
inventors  involved  in  actions  with  corporations  often  choose 
juries  because  they  feel  jurors  will  be  more  likely  to  feel 
empathy  with  the  little  guy,  Craig  says. 

"Patent  litigators  discovered  juries  about  10  years  ago," 
Anthony  says.  "While  the  early  indi- 
cations of  a  jury's  propensity  to  hold 
patents  valid  were  impressive  (with 
about  80  percent  of  patents  being  up- 
held), it  appears  over  the  long  term 
that  juries  are  not  quite  as  much  of  a 
blessing  to  patent  owners,  but  they're 
a  blessing  nonetheless." 

In  fact,  Anthony  says,  judges  are 
nearly  as  likely  as  juries  to  uphold 
patents.  That's  an  important  consid- 
eration, given  the  fact  that  jury  trials 
are  more  expensive,  time-consuming 
and  difficult  to  schedule  than  non- 
jury trials.  "The  demand  for  a  jury 
should  not  be  a  knee-jerk  reaction 
of  patent  plaintiffs,"  he  says. 

Regardless  of  whether  a  case  goes 
before  a  judge  or  a  jury,  the  complex- 
ity of  the  issues  involved  in  patent 
disputes,  the  intricacies  of  modern 
technology,  and  the  increasingly 
crowded  federal  dockets  (which  may 
make  judges  less  generous  with  the 
time  they  allow  attorneys  to  present 
their  cases)  place  a  premium  on 
preparation.  "Preparation  is  the  key  in  any  kind  of  litigation," 
Craig  says.  "You  can't  leave  a  stone  unturned." 

An  important  part  of  preparing  is  finding  the  most  effec- 
tive way  to  present  the  details  of  a  patent  case.  More  and 
more,  that  means  using  television,  computers  and  other  mod- 
ern communication  technologies,  Scinto  says.  "You  make  your 
case  in  a  more  rapid  fashion,  but  you  use  computer  anima- 
tion, simulation— that  sort  of  thing— to  distill  it  down  and 
make  it  understandable  to  the  judge,  who  may  have  no  techni- 
cal training,  and  to  the  jurors,  who  may  have  no  education 
beyond  high  school." 

"Effective  trial  aids  will  not  convert  bad  facts  into  good 
facts,"  Anthony  adds.  "But  they  can  tip  the  balance  in  close 
cases.  And  by  removing  the  cloud  of  confusion  from  a  high- 
technology  case,  you  demonstrate  that  you  are  doing  your 


WPI  Journal 


31 


best  to  impart  an  understanding  of  the  facts  to  the  judge 
or  jury." 

Two  "clouds  of  confusion"  that  often  surround  patent  suits 
are  the  issue  of  obviousness  and  something  called  the  doc- 
trine of  equivalents,  Scinto  says.  "Sometimes  you  can  avoid 
the  literal  language  of  the  claims  of  a  patent  and  end  up  with 
the  same  results,"  he  says. 

"But  the  Supreme  Court  says  that  if  you've  reached  that 
result  by  doing  substantially  the  same  thing  in  substantially 
the  same  way,  you  have  not  really  avoided  the  patent  and 
are  guilty  of  infringement.  That  issue  is  the  subject  of  a  great 
deal  of  litigation." 

Defendants  in  patent  suits  often  claim  that  the  patent  in 
question  is  invalid  because  the  invention  would  have  been 
obvious  to  others  skilled  in  the  prior  art.  "Sometimes,  you 
can  arrive  at  a  pretty  reasoned  opinion  as  to  whether  some- 
thing was  obvious,  but  often  it  will  depend  on  the  nature  of  the 
evidence  produced  at  the  trial,  and  you 
never  know  what  that  will  be  in  ad- 
vance. In  the  end,  you  are  relying  on 
the  experience  and  knowledge  of  the 
person  rendering  the  opinion." 


« 


/i  I  were  advising  young  people 
considerng  careers  in  patent  law 
about  what  fields  to  get  preparation 
in,  I'd  say  computers,  semiconductor 
technologies,  bioengineering,  biotech- 
nology and  genetic  engineering,"  Craig 
says.  In  fact,  the  computer  and  bio- 
technology industries  have  proven 
hotbeds  of  patent  activity  in  recent 
decades. 

Makers  of  computer  software  have 
traditionally  turned  to  copyright  law 
to  protect  their  products  (copyrights 
protect  expressions  of  ideas — like 
books,  plays  and  musical  scores 
— rather  than  the  ideas  themselves),  but  patents  have  been 
granted  to  fundamental  advances  in  software  design.  Patents 
are,  perhaps,  more  critical  for  advances  in  computer  technol- 
ogy, where  such  fundamental  advances  as  the  integrated  circuit 
and  memory  design  can  be  worth  billions  of  dollars  in  royalties. 

The  rapidly  changing  nature  of  computer  technology  has 
given  rise  to  a  myth  that  patents — which  can  take  several 
years  to  be  granted  once  an  application  is  filed — are  not 
worth  pursuing  when  a  new  chip  might  be  obsolete  a  year 
or  two  after  it  goes  on  the  market. 

"In  truth,"  Anthony  says,  "basic  technologies  are  retained, 
albeit  in  a  much  improved  form,  as  a  product  evolves  into 
more  advanced  designs.  For  example,  a  patent  basic  to 
a  dynamic  random  access  memory  (DRAM)  disclosed  in  a 
one-kilobyte  context,  may  be  equally  applicable  to  a  one- 
megabyte  design." 

The  explosion  of  patent  work  in  biotechnology  can  be 
traced  to  the  invention  of  genetic  engineering  in  the  early 


Sometimes  you  can  avoid 

the  literal  language  of  the 

claims  of  a  patent  and 

end  up  with  the  same  results.... 

That  is  the  subject  of  a  great 

deal  of  litigation: 


1970s  and  to  a  pivotal  Supreme  Court  decision  in  1980.  In 
Diamond  v.  Chakrabarty,  the  court  ruled  for  the  first  time 
that  manmade  microorganisms  can  be  patented.  Later  court 
rulings  extended  that  protection  to  genetically  engineered 
plants  and  multicellular  animals,  and  patents  have  also  been 
granted  for  individual  genes  and  proteins — both  natural  and 
manmade. 

Patents  have  proven  especially  important  in  biotechnol- 
ogy for  a  number  of  reasons.  One  of  the  most  compelling  is 
the  high  cost  of  the  research,  development  and  testing  needed 
to  bring  a  genetically  engineered  product  to  market.  In  1991, 
biotech  companies  spent  $3.2  billion  on  R&D — an  average 
of  47  percent  of  their  incomes.  Pharmaceutical  companies, 
in  contrast,  spend  about  15  percent  of  their  incomes  on 
research  and  development. 

If  that  investment  were  not  enough  reason  for  protecting 
biological  and  biochemical  inventions  with  patents,  the 
relative  ease  with  which  such  inven- 
tions can  be  copied  or  "reinvented" 
should  be.  For  example,  once  a  com- 
pany has  begun  clinical  trials  for  a 
new  genetically  engineered  protein,  a 
competitor  may  find  it  easy  to  get  a 
sample  of  the  compound,  analyze  it, 
and  determine  the  sequence  of  the 
gene  needed  to  make  it. 

But  outright  piracy  is  only  one  of 
many  ways  a  company  can  try  to 
wrest  control  of  a  new  market  from 
its  competitors  or  steer  around  its 
rivals'  patents  in  the  brave  new  world 
of  biotechnology.  Kokulis  has  been 
involved  in  some  of  the  most  written- 
about  and  closely  studied  interfer- 
ence cases  in  this  emerging  and 
challenging  field. 

Some  of  those  cases  concern 
Amgen  Inc.  in  Thousand  Oaks,  Calif., 
one  of  the  world's  largest  biotechnol- 
ogy companies.  Amgen  has  focused  much  of  its  efforts  on  a 
group  of  biological  compounds  called  blood  cell  growth  fac- 
tors, chemicals  made  by  the  body  that  stimulate  the  growth 
of  the  various  cells  that  constitute  human  blood.  One  of  its 
first  targets  was  erythropoietin  (EPO),  which  boosts  the  pro- 
duction of  red  blood  cells.  The  compound  can  benefit  pa- 
tients on  kidney  dialysis,  who  often  suffer  from  anemia  brought 
on  by  the  destruction  of  red  blood  cells. 

EPO  is  produced  by  the  kidneys  in  very  small  amounts, 
but  isolating  enough  of  the  natural  compound  for  commercial 
production  would  be  prohibitively  expensive.  Therefore, 
Amgen  and  other  companies — most  notably,  Genetics  Insti- 
tute in  Cambridge,  Mass.— set  out  to  isolate  the  gene  that 
codes  for  the  protein.  It  was  an  arduous  search;  at  times,  both 
companies  came  close  to  giving  it  up.  But  in  the  end,  Fu-Kuen 
Lin  at  Amgen  isolated  the  gene  and  Amgen  obtained  patents  for 
it  and  a  host  cell  for  manufacturing  EPO  using  the  isolated  gene. 

(Continued  on  Page  34) 


32 


Spring  1993 


PATENT  PROFILES 

Paul  ML  Craig  '45 


Paul  Craig,  a  German  native,  ar- 
rived in  the  U.S.  as  a  young  man 
and  entered  WPI  as  a  classified 
freshman  with  the  Class  of  1945.  Due 
to  a  lack  of  a  deferment,  he  had  to 
interrupt  his  studies  during  his 
senior  year.  He  served  in  the  U.S. 
Navy  from  1944  to  1946  and  returned 
to  WPI  to  complete  his  bachelor's 
degree  in  electrical  engineering  a 
short  time  later. 

His  entry  into  the  field  of  patent 
law,  he  says,  was  purely  accidental.  "I  was  invited  by  RCA  to 
come  to  Camden,  N.J.,  for  a  job  interview  in  the  fall  of  1946.  On 
the  advice  of  a  neighbor,  who  worked  with  a  Worcester  patent 
law  firm,  I  extended  my  trip  so  I  could  visit  Washington.  I  was 
immediately  hired  as  a  patent  examiner  in  an  electrical  division 
of  the  U.S.  Patent  Office." 

Craig  started  work  in  December  1946  and  enrolled  at 
Georgetown  University  to  work  toward  his  law  degree  at  night. 
After  receiving  his  bachelor  of  laws  degree  in  1950,  he  became 
a  patent  advisor  for  the  U.S.  Army's  Office  of  Chief  of  Ordnance. 
"All  of  the  Army's  arsenals  reported  to  that  office,"  Craig  says. 
"Some  of  the  work  I  handled  came  from  the  Redstone  Arsenal, 
where  German  scientists  under  Wernher  von  Braun  were 
working  on  rocket  technology.  1  handled  claims,  filed  patent 
applications  and  worked  on  infringements." 

While  working  for  the  Army,  Craig  earned  a  master's  degree 
in  law  at  George  Washington  University.  He  left  the  Army  in 
1952  and  went  into  private  practice,  where  his  knowledge  of 
foreign  languages  would  prove  to  be  a  major  asset  with 
future  European  clients. 

While  most  of  the  work  he  did  over  the  next  several  decades 
was  in  his  area  of  specialization,  patent  litigation,  he  spent  a 
good  part  of  the  1950s  and  1960s  in  general  law  practice  with 
his  father,  also  Paul  Craig  (both  Paul  Craigs  were  admitted  to 
the  bar  on  the  same  day  in  1950). 

In  1983,  he  split  off  from  the  Washington,  D.C.,  intellectual 
property  firm  of  Craig  &  Antonelli,  which  he  had  founded,  and 
started  the  firm  of  Craig  &  Burns.  Three  years  later  that  firm 
merged  with  a  law  firm  in  Indiana.  "The  Indiana  firm  had  a 


policy  that  required  partners  to  retire 
at  67,"  he  says.  "I  was  worried  that  the 
policy  might  keep  me  from  continuing 
to  serve  a  longstanding  client  who  in- 
sisted on  my  representation,  so  I  left 
the  firm  in  January  1 989  and  since  then 
have  been  associated  with  Dow,  Lohnes 
&  Albertson,  a  large  general  practice 
law  firm  in  Washington." 

When  Craig  began  his  patent  law 
practice  in  the  1950s,  the  leading- 
edge  technologies  included  nuclear 
energy  and  electronics.  In  the  electronics  area,  corporations 
were  working  to  develop  and  commercialize  technologies  de- 
veloped during  World  War  II.  In  his  last  year  at  the  Patent  Office, 
he  became  involved  in  major  interferences  that  involved  all  the 
major  U.S.  firms  that  had  access  to  the  MIT  Radiation  Labora- 
tory in  a  fight  for  the  rights  to  an  important  development  in 
radar,  the  "Magic  T"  antenna,  which  could  send  and  receive 
microwave  signals. 

Over  the  years,  he  has  done  a  great  deal  of  work  for 
electronics  and  automobile  manufacturers.  He  has  handled  a 
broad  range  of  work  in  the  intellectual  property  area,  including 
litigation,  for  European  automotive  clients  such  as  Damiler- 
Benz,  BMW  and  Porsche,  and  several  Japanese  companies, 
including  Hitachi.  He  was  involved  for  more  than  a  decade  in 
the  Kearns  litigation,  in  which  David  Kearns  sued  many 
automakers  for  alleged  infringement  of  his  intermittent  wind- 
shield wiper  patents. 

Craig  says  he  has  enjoyed  his  career  in  patent  law,  but  he 
notes  that  the  profession  has  its  pluses  and  minuses.  On  the 
plus  side  are  salaries  that  are  generally  higher  than  those  most 
engineers  or  research  scientists  can  expect,  as  well  as  the 
opportunity  to  use  one's  technical  education  in  an  exciting 
and  creative  field,  he  says. 

"But  this  is  also  a  time-consuming  and  time- 
demanding  profession,"  he  says.  "That  can  be  a  detriment. 
1  remember  when  my  daughter  was  12, 1  asked  her  what  she 
wanted  to  be  when  she  grew  up.  She  said  she  wasn't  sure,  but 
she  knew  she  wasn't  going  to  be  a  lawyer,  because  she 
wanted  to  spend  time  with  her  kids." 


WPI  Journal 


33 


.....  :_,'_ 


(Continued  from  Page  32) 

In  theory,  that  should  have  concluded  the  race,  but  Gene- 
tics Institute  had  a  surprise  in  store  for  Amgen.  Just  before 
the  awarding  of  Amgen 's  patent,  GI  had  obtained  a  patent  for 
a  purified  sample  of  EPO  the  company  isolated  from  human 
urine.  Genetics  Institute  argued  that  its  patent  also  covered 
the  synthetic  form  of  EPO  Amgen  planned  to  make  with  its 
patented  gene  and  process. 

A  lower  court  agreed  with  GI,  but  the  decision  was  over- 
turned on  appeal  to  the  Federal  Circuit  Court.  Both  the  lower 
court  and  the  appeals  court  found  Amgen's  patent  valid  and 
infringed  by  GI.  Kokulis  says  the  story  of  EPO  also  involved 
several  interferences  (special  proceedings  to  determine  who 
was  the  first  inventor  of  something,  and  therefore  the  rightful 
patent  holder)  over  Amgen's  gene  and  process. 

The  interferences,  in  which  Kokulis  was  involved,  were 
determined  favorably  to  Amgen  by  the  U.S.  Patent  Office, 
although  appeals  are  pending.  An  important  ruling 
in  the  litigation  and  the  interferences, 
Kokulis  says,  is  the  finding  that,  with 
gene  inventions,  conception  of  the  in- 
vention and  its  reduction  to  practice 
occur  simultaneously. 

Kokulis  says  there  is  an  important 
weakness  in  current  patent  coverage 
for  biotechnology.  "To  illustrate  this," 
he  says,  "let's  say  you  are  the  first  to 
isolate  the  gene  for  a  protein  that  ex- 
ists naturally  in  the  body  and  that 
has  been  known  about  for  some  time. 
The  protein  is  old,  but  your  method 
for  making  it  is  new  and  you  get  a 
patent  in  the  U.S.  on  the  gene,  and  not 
on  the  protein  it  codes  for. 

"A  company  in  Japan  uses  your 
gene  to  make  the  protein  and  then 
exports  it  to  the  U.S.  As  things  stand 
now,  that  company  will  have  no 
infringement  problems,  because  it 
has  not  used  your  gene  in  the  U.S. 
And  since  you  hold  no  patent  on  the 
protein  itself,  it  can  be  exported  to 
this  country. 

"An  apparently  easy  answer  to  the  problem  is  to  obtain 
patent  coverage  for  the  process  for  making  the  protein  using 
the  gene,  since  current  law  specifies  that  the  importation 
of  a  product  made  by  a  process  that  would  infringe  a  U.S. 
patent  if  made  in  the  U.S.,  is  itself  infringement.  But  such 
process  coverage  is  not  always  available." 

That  was  the  issue  at  the  heart  of  litigation  filed  a  few 
years  ago  by  Amgen  against  Chugai  Pharmaceutical,  a  major 
Japanese  biotechnology  company.  Before  the  award  of  the 
Amgen  gene  patent,  Genetics  Institute  had  given  Chugai  the 
gene  and  host  cell  needed  to  make  EPO  and  entered  into  a 
joint  venture  with  the  Japanese  company  to  sell  the  protein  in 
the  U.S.  Amgen  protested  the  arrangement  to  the  U.S.  Trade 
Commission,  but  lost.   "There  have  been  proposals 


The  interference.. ..was  to 
determine  who  developed  the 
[AIDS]  test  kit  first.  As  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  Gallo  and  his 
people  were  the  first  to  do  that, 
as  they  discovered  the  way  to 
produce  enough  of  the  virus 

to  make  useful  kits. 


for  legislation  that  would  remedy  this  type  of  situation,"  Kokulis 
says,  "but  to  date  none  have  passed." 

Perhaps  the  most  publicized  interference  Kokulis  has  been 
involved  in  concerned  the  isolation  of  the  virus  that  causes 
AIDS  and  the  development  of  the  first  AIDS  test  kit.  The  case 
pitted  Robert  Gallo,  discoverer  of  interleukin-2  and  the  first 
human  retrovirus,  HTLV-1,  against  French  virologist  Luc 
Montagnier  and  the  Pasteur  Institute. 

In  1983,  while  Gallo's  lab  raced  with  the  French  lab  to  be 
the  first  to  find  the  virus  responsible  for  AIDS,  Montagnier 
sent  Gallo  a  sample  of  LAV,  which  he  believed  to  be  the 
culprit.  A  short  time  later,  Gallo  announced  the  isolation  of 
what  he  called  HTLV-III,  as  well  as  an  AIDS  test  kit  based  upon 
it.  The  NIH  was  later  granted  a  patent  for  the  kit. 

Montagnier  claimed  HTLV-III  was  really  the  Pasteur 
Institute's  LAV  and  charged  misconduct  in  the  creation  of  the 
test  kit.  The  institute,  in  the  meantime,  had  developed  its  own 
test  kit  and  an  interference  was  begun  to  determine  which  one 
deserved  the  right  to  patent  protec- 
tion. After  numerous  meetings  in 
Washington  and  Paris,  a  settlement 
was  reached. 

"Both  sides  agreed  that  they  had 
benefited  from  information  the  other 
had  shared  with  them,"  says  Kokulis, 
who  was  asked  by  the  federal  govern- 
ment to  handle  the  Gallo  case  in  what 
was  seen  as  an  unusual  move  (the 
Justice  Department  normally  defends 
the  government  in  interferences,  he 
says).  "In  a  settlement  disclosed  in  a 
historic  announcement  in  Washington 
by  the  presidents  of  France  and  the  U.S., 
Gallo  and  Montagnier  agreed  that  they 
were  joint  inventors  of  the  test  kit. 

"The  newspapers  tended  to  over- 
look an  important  point  in  that  case," 
Kokulis  adds.  "The  interference  was 
not  about  who  isolated  the  virus  first. 
It  was  to  determine  who  developed 
the  test  kit  first.  As  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, Gallo  and  his  people  were  the 
first  to  do  that,  particularly  as  they 
discovered  the  way  to  produce  enough  of  the  virus  to  make 
useful  kits.  To  do  that  they  had  to  find  an  immortallized  cell  line 
that  the  virus  would  not  kill.  That  was  a  great  contribution." 

Since  the  Gallo  case,  Kokulis  and  his  firm  have  handled  a 
number  of  patent-related  cases  for  the  NIH.  One  in  particular 
has  been  the  subject  of  controversy.  That  case  began  in  Au- 
gust 1992  when  the  agency  filed  for  patents  on  the  research  of 
former  NIH  scientist  J.  Craig  Venter.  Venter  isolated  more  than 
3,000  partial  human  genes  known  as  expressed-sequence  tags. 
The  sequences  can  be  used  as  probes  to  isolate  the  exact 
position  of  useful  genes.  The  NIH  says  it  wants  to  secure  the 
intellectual  property  rights  to  the  sequences  so  they  will  be 
available  to  anyone  who  needs  them  for  research. 

(Continued  on  Page  36) 


34 


Spring  1993 


PATENT  PROFILES 

Lawrence  F.  Scinto  '51 


Like  many  patent  attorneys, 
Lawrence  Scinto  didn't  set  out 
to  pursue  a  career  in  law.  A 
native  of  New  York  City,  he  enrolled  at 
Brooklyn  Polytechnic  Institute  after 
high  school,  and  then  served  in  the 
U.S.  Army  in  the  Pacific  Theater  for 
two  years  at  the  end  of  World  War  II. 

"When  I  got  out  of  the  service,  I  decided  to  take  advantage 
of  the  G.I.  Bill  and  began  looking  for  a  college  outside  of  New 
York,"  Scinto  says.  "I  had  relatives  in  Worcester  who  told  me 
about  WPI."  Scinto  was  admitted  and  earned  a  bachelor's 
degree  in  civil  engineering  in  1951. 

In  his  senior  year,  he  took  a  course  in  engineering  and  the 
law  and  became  intrigued.  When  he  returned  to  New  York,  he 
enrolled  at  St.  John's  University  and  pursued  a  bachelor  of  laws 
degree  at  night  while  working  at  various  engineering  jobs 
during  the  day.  He  received  his  degree  in  1956  and  went  on  to 
earn  a  master's  degree  in  law  at  New  York  University  in  1959. 

Still,  he  didn't  intend  to  work  as  a  patent  attorney;  he  says 
he  thought  a  knowledge  of  the  legal  field  would  be  helpful  in  his 
work  as  an  engineer.  But  after  spending  a  year  as  a  contract 
administrator  at  an  engineering  firm,  he  took  a  job  as  a  patent 
attorney  for  American  Machine  and  Foundry  Co.  and  has  never 
looked  back. 

For  American  Machine,  he  prosecuted  patents  on  technol- 
ogy used  in  such  devices  as  bowling  pin-spotting  machines, 
cigarette-making  and  -packaging  machines,  and  bread- 
wrapping  machinery.  In  1960  he  joined  the  New  York  firm  of 
Morgan,  Finnegan,  Durham  &  Pine.  Three  years  later  he  joined 
Ward,  Haselton,  McElhannon,  Orme,  Brooks  &  Fitzpatrick, 
where  he  eventually  became  a  partner. 

In  1971 ,  he  joined  with  other  attorneys  in  forming  Fitzpatrick, 
Cella,  Harper  &  Scinto,  where  he  is  a  senior  partner  today. 
With  65  attorneys  in  the  main  office  on  Park  Avenue,  another 
22  in  an  office  in  Washington,  D.C.,  and  three  lawyers  in  a 


Los  Angeles  office,  the  firm  is  one  of 
the  largest  intellectual  property  prac- 
tices in  the  country. 

Over  the  years,  Scinto,  who  was 
recently  elected  to  membership  in  the 
American  College  of  Trial  Lawyers, 
has  focused  more  and  more  of  his 
energies  on  patent  litigation,  which  he 
has  pursued  for  such  clients  as  Exxon,  DuPont,  Merck,  Monsanto, 
S.C.  Johnson  &  Son,  and  Emerson  Electric.  The  cases  he  has 
handled  have  run  the  gamut  of  technical  disciplines  and  industries. 
Early  in  his  career,  he  worked  on  cases  involving  the  high- 
speed manufacture  of  replacement  radiator  hoses  for  cars.  He 
brought  suit  for  DuPont  against  Hercules  Chemical  Co.  over  a 
patent  for  the  photosensitive  material  used  in  making  printed 
circuit  boards.  And  he  successfully  defended  Merck  in  a  suit 
over  its  patents  for  crystalline  and  highly  refined  forms  of 
vitamin  B12. 

More  recently,  he  worked  on  a  case  for  DuPont  and  its 
licensees  involving  a  patent  for  a  plastic  material  used  to  make 
the  expandable  balloons  for  aortic  catheters.  Also  working 
for  DuPont,  he  was  able  to  prove  that  a  patent  granted  to 
another  manufacturer  for  the  use  of  the  space-age  plastic 
Kevlar  in  brake  linings  was  invalid  because  previous  DuPont 
publications  already  covered  that  application.  Currently  in 
litigation  is  a  case  that  pits  client  Emerson  Electric  against 
General  Electric  in  a  fight  dealing  with  brushless  permanent- 
magnet  motors. 

"Everyday  it's  something  new,"  says  Scinto,  who  notes  that 
working  as  a  patent  attorney  has  dispelled  a  myth  he  once 
had  about  the  field.  "I  had  the  misconception  that  patent  law 
was  a  very  dull,  stodgy  area  of  legal  practice.  I  could  not  have 
been  more  wrong.  To  me,  it's  among  the  most  exciting  and 
challenging  areas.  It's  not  always  exciting,  of  course,  but  by 
and  large  it's  the  kind  of  thing  I  look  forward  to  coming  to 
work  for  every  day." 


WPI  Journal 


35 


(Continued  from  Page  34) 

While  the  agency  says  it  will  be  willing  to  transfer  the 
rights  to  these  sequences  to  biotechnology  companies  that 
can  put  them  to  good  use,  those  same  companies  fear  that 
granting  the  NIH  patents  on  the  gene  segments  will  make  it 
harder  for  them  to  get  patents  on  the  full  genes,  since  knowl- 
edge of  the  sequences  may  make  the  genes  obvious.  "It  will  be 
interesting  to  see  what  the  future  holds  for  patenting  efforts 
of  this  type,"  Kokulis  says. 

|  f  there  was  only  one  patent  system  in  the  world,  life — 
_  _  while  not  easy — would  be  a  great  deal  simpler  for  patent 
attorneys.  In  fact,  nearly  every  nation  maintains  its  own  patent 
system  and  within  those  many  systems  are  a  host  of 
conflicting  requirements  and  rules. 

As  global  competition  in  business  and  industry  has  inten- 
sified in  recent  decades,  the  need  for  companies  and  indi- 
vidual inventors  to  protect  their  intellectual  property  outside 
of  their  home  countries  has  grown.  One  indication  of  this  is 
the  changing  nature  of  the  clientele  of  the  U.S.  Patent  Office. 

"Foreign  companies  are  getting  about  one  of  every  two 


patents  granted  by  our  patent  office  today,"  Scinto  notes.  "In 
1992,  four  of  the  top  five  companies  getting  patents  issued  in 
their  names  were  non-U.S.  firms.  The  Japanese,  in  particular, 
are  quite  sophisticated  about  using,  not  only  our  system,  but 
patent  systems  around  the  world." 

With  the  growth  of  international  patenting,  has  come  a 
rising  interest  in  "harmonizing"  the  rules  governing  the  many 
national  patent  offices.  The  goal  is  to  make  the  process  of 
applying  for  patents  in  multiple  countries  easier  and  fairer.  In 
the  long  term,  such  efforts  may  someday  bring  about  a  truly 
international  patent,  which  would  provide  access  to  patent  pro- 
tection in  many — if  not  all — countries  with  a  single  application. 

An  important  step  along  this  road  was  taken  more  than  a 
century  ago  when  a  number  of  countries  signed  the  Paris 
Convention  for  the  Protection  of  Industrial  Property.  About 
100  nations  now  adhere  to  the  Paris  Convention,  which  re- 
quires a  signatory  country  to  treat  applicants  from  other 
countries  exactly  as  it  does  those  within  its  own  borders.  It 
also  grants  inventors  one  full  year  from  the  time  they  first  file 
an  application  in  any  member  country  to  file  applications  in 
other  nations.  During  that  year,  the  inventor  can  preserve  his 
right  of  priority,  should  priority  of  invention  become  an  issue. 


Students  Pursue  Patent  Careers  and  Project: 


While  the  majority  of  WPI's  graduates  go  on  to  careers  in 
the  disciplines  in  which  they  major,  a  growing  number 
are  using  their  engineering  and  science  degrees  as 
stepping-stones  to  other  types  of  professional  occupations.  Each 
year,  about  six  of  those  students  go  on  to  study  law,  according  to 
Kent  J.  Rissmiller,  assistant  professor  of  social  science  and  policy 
studies  and  one  of  two  advisors  for  WPI's  pre-Iaw  program. 

"For  the  first  time  this  year,  most  of  those  students  are  inter- 
ested in  patent  law,"  Rissmiller  says.  "They  are  selecting  law 
schools  because  of  their  patent  law  programs  and  expect  that  the 
field  is  the  best  way  for  them  to  combine  their  education  in  engi- 
neering or  science  and  their  interest  in  law. 

"I  think  it  shows,  in  part,  that  students  are  a  little  nervous 
about  the  availability  of  engineering  jobs  and  about  what  kinds 
of  jobs  they'll  be  qualified  for  if  they  have  only  a  bachelor's  de- 
gree. They  don't  want  to  ignore  or  set  aside  their  four  years  at 
WPI;  they  just  want  to  find  other  ways  to  use  that  education." 

Rissmiller  says  students  with  a  technical  background  often 
have  an  advantage  in  applying  to  graduate  programs  that  special- 
ize in  technical  areas  of  law,  like  the  law  of  intellectual  property, 
utility  regulation  and  the  environment.  "In  general,"  he  says,  "I 
tell  students  that  having  an  engineering  or  science  degree  is  no 
handicap  whatsoever  in  getting  into  law  school.  These  schools 
don't  put  a  lot  of  weight  on  an  applicant's  major.  They're  looking 
for  someone  who  can  handle  graduate  education." 


Through  WPI's  pre-law  program,  students  receive  special 
advising  about  career  opportunities,  preparing  for  law  school  ex- 
ams, and  applying  to  law  school.  In  addition,  students  can  take  a 
sequence  of  law  courses  in  the  areas  of  management,  history  and 
social  science. 

"These  courses  expose  students  to  the  kinds  of  problems,  the 
kinds  of  cases,  and  the  kinds  of  materials  they  will  encounter  as 
law  students,"  Rissmiller  says.  "We  want  them  to  see  if  they  find 
it  interesting  and  if  they  can  adapt  to  learning  through  the  case 
format  used  in  law  courses." 

Patent  law  has  also  played  an  important  role  in  WPI's  under- 
graduate project  program.  For  nearly  two  decades,  students  have 
been  completing  Interactive  Qualifying  Projects  (IQPs)  with  the 
U.S.  Patent  and  Trademark  Office  while  in  residence  at  the 
Institute's  Washington,  D.C.,  Project  Center. 

The  relationship  with  the  Patent  Office  began  in  1974  with 
the  assistance  of  C.  Marshall  Dann  '35,  who  was  then  commis- 
sioner of  patents  and  trademarks.  It  has  continued  since  then, 
making  it  WPI's  longest  relationship  with  an  off-campus  project 
sponsor.  Over  the  years,  more  than  20  projects  have  been  com- 
pleted with  the  office. 

The  projects  have  focused  on  such  areas  as  the  classification 
system  used  by  the  Patent  Office  and  the  use  of  modern  automa- 
tion technology  in  patent  searches  and  other  patent-related  func- 
tions. Many  have  used  data  about  patenting  activity  to  learn  about 


36 


Spring  1993 


:..-..  .    .  .'./■■...:■ 


There  are  currently  a  few  regional  patent  offices  that 
enable  inventors  to  file  a  single  application  and  be  granted 
patents  in  multiple  countries.  The  European  Patent  Office 
covers  14  nations  on  that  continent.  Other  such  arrange- 
ments cover  the  English-  and  French-speaking  nations  of 
Africa  and  the  Benelux  nations. 

In  the  early  1980s,  a  movement  began  to  bring  even 
greater  uniformity  to  the  international  patent  community. 
Since  then,  the  World  Intellec-  .  . 


tual  Property  Organization 
(W1PO),  a  special  agency  of 
the  United  Nations,  has 
drafted  a  treaty  aimed  at  har- 
monizing international  patent 
procedures.  Marshall  Dann, 

who  attended  meetings  of  the  W1PO  when  he  was  U.S.  patent 
commissioner  in  the  1970s,  says  that  if  the  U.S.  is  to  ultimately 
sign  this  treaty  (as  several  nations  have  already  done),  it  will 
have  to  make  a  fundamental  change  in  its  patent  system. 

"Everywhere  else  in  the  world,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Philippines,  they  have  a  first-to-file  system,"  he  says.  "We've 
stayed  with  our  first-to-invent  system."  A  first-to-file  system 


The  U.S.  will  have  to  abandon 


the  first-to-invent  rule  sooner  or  later. 


grants  a  patent  to  the  first  inventor  to  get  his  application  into 
the  patent  office.  The  U.S.  system  is  careful  to  award  a  patent  to 
the  first  person  to  actually  realize  a  new  technology. 

"There  are  virtues  to  a  first-to-invent  system,"  Dann  says. 
"Because  he  doesn't  have  to  worry  about  somebody  stealing 
his  idea,  an  inventor  has  time  to  develop  and  perfect  it  before 
running  to  the  patent  office.  In  theory,  that  results  in  higher 
quality  patents. 

"The  great  virtue  of  the 
first-to-file  system  is  its  sim- 
plicity. It  also  eliminates  the 
need  for  interferences,  which 
can  be  burdensome.  One  key 
argument  against  the  system 
is  that  it  might  encourage 
sloppy  and  incomplete  patent  applications,  which  could  re- 
sult in  more  rejections  and  more  vulnerable  patents." 

Dann  says  a  first-to-file  system  may  also  favor  large  com- 
panies, which  have  the  resources  to  file  patent  applications 
quickly.  He  says  because  most  large  U.S.  companies  patent 
their  inventions  overseas,  they  already  operate  as  if  the  U.S. 
had  a  first-to-file  system. 


w 


the  process  of  creating  and  using  new  technology  in  the  U.S.  and 
about  the  social  and  economic  implications  of  technology. 

Jane  Meyers,  the  Institute's  primary  contact  in  the  Patent  Of- 
fice, says  one  project  that  particularly  impressed  her  examined 
the  impact  of  maintenance  fees  on  patent  holders.  The  fees,  first 
assessed  in  the  early  1980s,  must  be  paid  by  inventors  every  four 
years  to  keep  a  patent  valid. 

"This  project  alerted  us  to  the  fact  that  we  weren't  notifying 
inventors  adequately  about  the  fact  that  these  maintenance  fees 
were  due,"  she  says.  "As  a  result,  the  office  instituted  new  proce- 
dures to  notify  inventors.  We  took  the  students'  report,  condensed  it 
and  published  it.  We  distributed  that  publication  to  a  lot  of  people." 

A  1985  project  looked  at  how  placing  the  Patent  Office's  vast 
collection  of  patents  on  CD  ROM  affected  the  way  people  use 
those  patents  to  do  searches.  The  project  was  advised  by  Susan 
Vernon-Gerstenfeld,  adjunct  associate  professor  and  director  of 
the  Washington  Project  Center.  She  used  the  data  the  students 
gathered  under  her  direction  to  complete  a  Ph.D.  dissertation 
that  predicted  how  comfortable  Patent  Office  employees  would  be 
adopting  the  new  technology.  "The  male  patent  examiners  who  had 
been  there  the  longest  were  the  most  reluctant  users,"  she  says. 

"Projects  like  these  can  be  of  real  value  to  the  Patent  Office," 
Vernon-Gerstenfeld  says.  "They  don't  have  enough  personnel  to 
do  this  work  or  enough  resources.  So  sponsoring  a  project  is  a 
good  way  to  get  a  lot  of  talented  labor.  And  our  track  record  with 
them  is  very  good,  or  they  wouldn't  have  kept  coming  back  for 
nearly  20  years." 

That  assessment  is  confirmed  by  Meyers:  "The  students  have 
often  planted  seeds  for  further  research  on  our  part  and  in  many 


cases  we  have  followed  through.  I've  got  all  the  reports  here  in 
my  office  and  we  do  use  them — even  the  ones  with  older  data— 
for  reference." 

When  WPI  opened  the  London  Project  Center  in  1985,  the 
Institute's  track  record  with  the  U.S.  Patent  Office  opened  the 
door  to  the  British  Patent  Office,  where  projects  have  been  con- 
ducted regularly  since  then.  Later,  the  British  connection  would 
help  lay  the  groundwork  for  a  series  of  projects  with  the  Office  of 
Registrar  General  in  Hong  Kong,  which  is  responsible  for  all  areas 
of  commercial  law  on  the  island. 

In  Britain,  many  patent-related  projects  have  focused  on  the 
satisfaction  users  feel  with  the  services  they  receive  from  the 
British  Patent  Office.  "The  patent  office  perceived  the  enormous 
value  of  having  WPI  students,  who  are  disarming  and  nonthreat- 
ening,  gathering  impartial  responses  from  users,"  says  Lance 
Schachterle,  associate  dean  of  undergraduate  studies  and  direc- 
tor of  the  London  Project  Center. 

The  first  project  done  with  the  British  office  looked  at  whether 
the  creation  of  the  European  Patent  Office  might  make  the  ser- 
vices of  the  British  office  obsolete.  "The  students  came  up  with 
what  we  were  told  was  a  better,  more  accurate  report  than  one 
the  patent  office  had  commissioned  from  a  professional  consult- 
ing firm,"  Schachterle  says. 

The  report  found  that  many  British  inventors  would  prefer  to 
use  their  own  patent  office  over  the  European  office  because  it  of- 
fers the  services  they  need  at  a  lower  cost.  "The  patent  search 
arm  of  the  British  Patent  Office  had  thought  it  might  go  out  of 
business,"  Schachterle  says.  "The  students'  report  convinced 
them  they  had  a  future." 


WPI  Journal 


37 


Morgan  D.  Rosenberg  '95  has  been  looking  into  these  ques- 
tions for  his  Interactive  Qualifying  Project,  which  will  examine 
how  the  transition  to  a  first-to-file  system  might  affect  inven- 
tors in  the  U.S.  He  says  he  has  concluded  from  his  research 
that  many  of  the  fears  about  first-to-file  may  be  unfounded. 

"People  who  are  for  the  first-to-file  system  say  that  while, 
in  theory,  small  inventors  could  be  hurt,  it  doesn't  seem  to 
happen  in  the  real  world,"  he  notes.  "And  the  level  of  quality 
of  patents  really  depends  on  what  individual  countries  re- 
quire in  the  way  of  disclosure,  rather  than  on  whether  or  not 
they  have  a  first-to-file  system.  Right  now  the  U.S.  has  the 
strictest  level  of  disclosure  requirements  of  any  country.  If 
we  switch  to  a  first-to-file  system,  we'd  probably  retain  those." 

"The  U.S.  will  have  to  abandon  the  first-to-invent  rule  sooner 
or  later,"  Craig  says.  But  he  notes  that  many  nations  are  more 
concerned  about  other  provisions  in  U.S.  law  they  consider 
discriminatory.  "For  example,"  he  notes,  "the  patent  system 
now  favors  U.S.  inventors,  because  you  cannot  establish  the 
date  of  your  invention  by  activities  abroad,  such  as  conception 
of  the  invention  or  reduction  to  practice." 

"Some  say  this  gives  U.S.  companies  a  big  advantage  in 
interferences,"  Dann  says.  "It's  true  that  we  say  that  our  law 
treats  everybody  the  same — if  you  develop  something  in  the 
U.S.,  you  are  on  a  par  with  us.  That  sticks  in  the  craw  of 
foreign  companies. 

"I  don't  know  how  the  U.S.  is  going  to  come  out  on  this," 
Dann  adds.  "There  are  a  great  many  people — including,  I  think, 
the  current  administration — who  favor  the  U.S.  becoming  like 
everybody  else.  A  great  many  other  people  cherish  the  first- 
to-invent  system.  They  note  that  the  U.S.  will  get  little  in  return 
for  giving  it  up.  We'll  just  have  to  wait  and  see." 

r^atent  law  is  an  interesting  field,"  Dann  says.  "It's  a  nice 
x.  combination  of  law  and  technology.  You  can  use  what  you 
know  of  science  and  engineering  and  you'll  always  find  your- 
self at  the  leading  edge  of  technology,  because  every  applica- 
tion that  you  get  into  is,  by  definition,  new." 

How  does  a  young  man  or  woman  get  into  the  field?  To 
begin  with,  Kokulis  says,  a  technical  degree  is  a  must,  because 
of  the  complex  nature  of  the  material  a  patent  attorney  must 
deal  with.  "All  but  a  few  of  the  people  in  our  firm  have  a 
scientific  background,  and  many  started  out  by  working 
in  a  scientific  area,"  he  says.  "The  few  who  do  not  have 
technical  degrees  work  in  trademarks  and  copyrights." 

Once  a  prospective  attorney  has  earned  a  law  degree, 
what  is  the  next  step?  "There  are  three  common  ways  to 
break  into  the  field,"  Craig  says.  "You  can  go  to  work  for  the 
Patent  Office  as  a  patent  examiner  and  attend  law  school  at 
night.  This  way  you  learn  the  rules  and  the  thinking  of  the 
Patent  Office,  which  is  valuable.  You  can  work  for  a  firm.  In 
Washington,  people  are  hired  right  out  of  college;  they  do 
searches  at  first  while  they  earn  their  law  degrees  at,  night. 

"Or  you  can  work  for  a  company,  especially  one  that  has  a 
Washington  office  for  training  patent  attorneys.  To  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  opportunity  to  choose  from  among  a  wider 
range  of  law  schools,  however,  companies  are  cutting  back  on 


Morgan  Rosenberg  '95  says  his  research  for  an  IQP 
on  patent  harmonization  convinced  him  that  many 
objections  to  the  first-to-file  system  are  unfounded. 


their  Washington  training  offices." 

Each  option  has  advantages  and  disadvantages,  Kokulis 
says.  "At  the  Patent  Office  you'll  gain  a  lot  of  experience 
quickly  and  probably  have  more  responsibility.  At  a  firm  you'll 
progress  more  slowly,  but  you'll  have  greater  variety  in  the 
work  you  do.  At  a  corporation  you'll  have  a  narrower  expo- 
sure, because  your  cases  will  concern  whatever  technology 
the  company  specializes  in." 

Craig  says  there  is  a  fourth  alternative  not  often  consid- 
ered— serving  as  a  clerk  to  a  judge,  especially  a  judge  of  the 
U.S.  Court  of  Appeals  for  the  Federal  Circuit.  "This  will  give  you 
exposure  to  all  sorts  of  cases,"  he  says.  "Many  law  firms  pay  a 
premium  for  attorneys  who  have  had  such  experience." 

What  are  the  prospects  for  a  new  patent  attorney?  Cur- 
rently, the  demand  for  young  men  and  women  in  this  field  is 
so  great  many  firms  are  "growing"  their  own  patent  attorneys, 
the  Boston  Globe  recently  reported.  One  Boston  firm 
is  sending  engineers  to  law  school  at  its  own  expense. 

New  patent  attorneys  will  join  a  small  but  growing  fra- 
ternity. According  to  the  American  Intellectual  Property  Law 
Association,  there  are  about  12,000  intellectual  property 
lawyers  in  the  U.S. — fewer  than  2  percent  of  all  attorneys 
listed  by  the  American  Bar  Association.  Those  professionals 
might  find  they  have  an  important  advantage  over  their  peers, 
Kokulis  notes. 

"Young  people  ask  me  about  the  practice  of  law,"  he  says. 
"I  tell  them  that  if  you  go  into  criminal  law,  you'll  probably  get 
rather  disenchanted  with  human  nature.  And  I  can  see  how 
one  might  find  domestic  relations  law,  where  you  are  con- 
stantly confronted  with  people  in  turmoil,  a  bit  depressing. 
But  patent  law  mostly  has  ups.  You  are  dealing  with  people 
who  are  out  there  making  new  inventions  that,  hopefully, 
will  contribute  to  everybody's  well-being  and  happiness." 


38 


Spring  1993 


INVESTIGATIONS 


Playing  Matchmaker  to  Methane 


C 

^^  ometimes  called  marsh  gas  or  fire- 
f     |  damp,  methane  constitutes  about 
1^/  85  percent  of  natural  gas  and  is 
also  produced  by  the  decomposition  of 
organic  matter.  In  addition  to  its  use  as 
a  fuel,  methane  has  long  been  an  impor- 
tant starting  point  in  a  host  of  commer- 
cially important  chemical  processes. 

In  the  petrochemical  industry,  for 
example,  methane  is  often  used  to  make 
synthesis  gas  (carbon  monoxide  and 
hydrogen),  which  is  used,  in  turn,  in  the 
manufacture  of  methanol  and  ammonia. 
Since  methane  is  abundant  and  cheap, 
a  major  goal  of  the  industry  is  to  find  a 
way  to  convert  methane  to  ethylene,  a 
chemical  building  block  used  to  make 
ethylene  glycol,  polyvinyl  chloride,  sty- 
rene,  polyethylene,  fabric  finishes,  latex 
paints  and  a  host  of  other  products. 

To  make  ethylene  in  this  way,  two 
molecules  of  methane  must  be  combined 
in  a  process  known  as  oxidative  dimeriza- 
tion.  In  practice,  this  is  a  difficult  process 
to  control  and  produces  poor  yields,  gener- 
ally in  the  range  of  just  25  to  30  percent, 
says  Yi  Hua  Ma,  professor  of  chemical  engi- 
neering and  director  of  WPI's  Center  for  In- 
organic Membrane  Studies. 

"It  is  not  easy  to  put  two  methane  mol- 
ecules together,"  Ma  says,  "since  methane 
does  not  readily  react  with  itself.  To  make 
the  reaction  work,  you  must  control  the 
oxidation  of  the  methane.  When  you  burn 
methane,  you  completely  oxidize  it,  pro- 
ducing carbon  dioxide  and  water.  But  in 
the  dimerization  reaction,  you  partially 
oxidize  the  methane  molecules,  producing 
some  carbon  dioxide  and  water  and  some 
useful  products." 

With  a  three-year  contract  for  $690,590 
from  the  U.S.  Department  of  Energy,  Ma  and 
chemical  engineering  professors  Anthony 
G.  Dixon  and  William  R.  Moser  are  attempt- 
ing to  develop  an  inorganic  membrane  sys- 
tem that  will  significantly  increase  the  yield 
of  the  dimerization  reaction  by  both  con- 


From  left,  William  Moser,  Anthony  Dixon  and 
Yi  Hua  Ma  are  developing  an  inorganic  membrane 
system  to  convert  methane  into  ethylene. 

trolling  the  rate  at  which  oxygen  mixes 
with  the  methane  and  promoting  the 
coupling  of  the  methane  molecules. 

Inorganic  membranes  are  generally 
made  by  building  up  increasingly  fine 
layers  of  inorganic  materials  like  alumina, 
zirconia  and  glass.  The  finest  layers  have 
a  uniform  network  of  tiny  pores  that  let 
some  compounds  pass  through,  while 
holding  others  back.  The  properties  of  a 
membrane  can  be  controlled  by  deposit- 
ing various  compounds — including  cata- 
lysts— inside  the  pores. 

In  their  research,  the  WPI  team  is 
developing  a  tube-shaped  membrane 
with  oxygen-permeable  and  catalytically 
active  layers  lining  the  interior  of  the 
tube.  Methane  will  flow  through  the  cen- 
ter of  the  tube  while  oxygen  diffuses  in 
from  the  outside  to  partially  oxidize  it. 

The  team  is  currently  experimenting 
with  ways  to  control  the  structure  of  the 
membrane  to  permit  only  oxygen  to  pass 
through.  In  addition,  they  plan  to  deposit 
electrically  conductive  materials  inside 


the  pores  of  the  membrane  to  enhance 
the  movement  of  the  electrically  charged 
oxygen  molecules. 

"We  are  looking  at  various  oxides  that 
will  allow  oxygen  to  permeate  through  at 
the  high  temperatures  normally  used  in 
the  methane  dimerization  process,"  Ma 
says.  "By  choosing  the  right  material, 
we  hope  to  be  able  to  control  the  partial 
pressure  of  oxygen  and,  in  turn,  control 
the  reaction  to  produce  the  best  yield 
possible." 

By  the  end  of  the  three-year  contract 
period,  Ma  says  the  team  hopes  to  have 
developed  a  mechanism  for  increasing 
the  yield  of  the  dimerization  reaction  and 
to  have  determined  how  best  to  scale  the 
membrane  system  up  to  a  large  enough 
size  to  handle  the  huge  volumes  of  inex- 
pensive methane  that  are  produced  by 
industry. 

"For  the  project  to  be  successful, 
the  process  must  be  economically  feasible," 
Ma  says.  "We  may  find  that  even  though 
the  membrane  works,  it  is  too  expensive  to 
build.  Or  it  may  not  be  easy  to  use  for  mass 
production  in  an  industrial  setting.  We  are 
hoping  we  can  overcome  all  these  difficul- 
ties, but  it  is  a  very,  very  difficult  problem. 
Otherwise,  someone  would  have  done  it. 
"However,"  he  adds,  "if  the  technique 
works  and  the  conversion  rate  is  high 
enough,  this  membrane  system  could  be 
worth  billions  of  dollars  to  the  chemical, 
petrochemical  and  plastics  industries." 
The  Inorganic  Membrane  Center  was 
established  in  1988  to  study  how  the  mem- 
branes work,  how  best  to  make  them  and 
how  to  apply  them  in  a  broad  range  of 
industries,  including  the  chemical  and  bio- 
technology industries.  The  center  includes 
faculty  and  graduate  students  from  the 
Chemical  Engineering,  Biology  and  Biotech- 
nology, and  Mechanical  Engineering  depart- 
ments. Current  industrial  sponsors  include 
Mobil  Oil  Corp.  and  Amoco  Oil  Co. 

—Michael  Dorsey 


WPI  Journal 


39 


FINAL  WORD 


Richard  Hansen  Is  Helping 
Power  Up  the  Developing  World 


U  elipe  Martinez  can  now  regularly 
I     keep  his  country  store  open  past 
A     sundown  and  the  local  community 
center  can  extend  its  programs  well  into 
the  evening.  Why  is  that  news?  Well  until  a 
few  years  ago,  there  was  no  reliable  source 
of  electricity  for  lighting  in  the  rural  town 
of  Bella  Vista  in  the  Puerto  Plata  region  of 
the  Dominican  Republic.  If  the  store  and 
community  center  were  occasionally  open 
evenings,  shoppers  and  center  visitors 
were  disturbed  by  the  fumes  from  kero- 
sene lamps. 


Richard  Hansen  76,  a  professional  engi- 
neer who  received  his  bachelor's  degree  in 
mechanical  engineering  from  WPI  and  his 
M.B.A.  from  Boston  University,  is  the  cata- 
lyst for  these  electrifying  changes.  Nine 
years  ago  he  founded  Enersol  Associates 
Inc.,  a  nonprofit  international  development 
organization  in  Somerville,  Mass.,  that  spe- 
cializes in  solar-based  rural  electrification. 
He's  served  since  then  as  Enersol's  execu- 
tive director. 

Enersol's  goal  is  to  foster  rural  solar 
electrification  around  the  globe.  Its  ap- 
proach to  business,  which  it  calls  SO-BASEC, 
makes  use  of  recent  advances  in  photovol- 
taic technology  and  local  human  and  insti- 
tutional resources  to  bring  power  and  light 
to  communities  beyond  the  reach  of  exist- 
ing distribution  networks. 

"It's  impractical  to  run  traditional 
electric  lines  through  heavily  wooded  or 
remote  terrain,"  says  Hansen,  a  former 
manager  of  industrial  and  manufacturing 
engineering  for  Westinghouse.  "Besides, 
it  would  be  bad  for  the  environment." 

Hansen  went  to  the  Dominican  Repub- 
lic in  April  1984  to  install  one  of  his  first 
cost-effective,  small-scale  PV  systems  at 
the  Martinez  home  and  store  in  Bella  Vista. 
The  system,  typical  of  others  installed 
since  then  as  a  result  of  Enersol's  efforts, 
included  a  solar  photovoltaic  module,  an 
automotive  battery  and  a  simple  control- 
junction  box. 

"It  provided  enough  power  to  run  the 
family's  television  and  radio  and  to  keep 
lights  operating  throughout  the  home  and 
market,"  Hansen  says.  "Community  mem- 
bers visited,  discussed  the  system,  and 

Ydalia  Alcantara,  a  Dominican  seam- 
stress, works  under  an  electric  light 
powered  by  one  of  Enersol's  solar 
electric  systems.  The  systems  have 
replaced  dim  and  smelly  kerosene 
lamps  in  homes  and  businesses. 


soon  were  convinced  that  the  technology 
suited  their  needs." 

In  such  a  low-income  area,  paying  for 
systems  up  front  was  a  problem.  So  in 
December  1984,  Enersol  helped  10  families 
organize  themselves  into  ADESOL,  a  solar 
energy  development  association.  The  orga- 
nization maintains  a  revolving  loan  fund 
that  enables  people  to  buy  home  systems. 
"It  may  well  be  the  first  solar  electric  re- 
volving credit  fund  in  the  Third  World," 
Hansen  says. 

The  U.S.  Agency  for  International  Dev- 
elopment mission  in  the  Dominican  Repub- 
lic provided  $2,000  in  seed  money  for  the 
fund.  By  March  1985,  five  systems  had 
been  financed,  with  users  paying  about 
$10  a  month  for  energy  services.  Buyers 
pay  back  the  $500  cost  for  a  system  over 
four  years.  With  a  community-based  credit 
mechanism  in  place,  Enersol  then  tackled 
the  problem  of  system  servicing  and  sales. 

"We  worked  with  a  local  entrepreneur 
to  establish  a  small  hardware  and  electri- 
cal supply  store,"  Hansen  says.  "The  store 
became  the  solar  service  center  for  the 
region,  a  place  where  customers  could 
order  new  systems,  buy  spare  parts,  re- 
quest service  or  arrange  short-term  financ- 
ing. Business  boomed.  Typically,  a  success- 
fully installed  system  would  result  in  a 
number  of  other  sales." 

Enersol  next  trained  six  local  youths 
to  install  and  service  solar  home  systems. 
As  the  young  technicians  were  completing 
their  training,  ADESOL  received  a  $3,500 
USA1D  grant  to  finance  systems  for  eight 
additional  homes  and  businesses.  The 
work  gave  the  youths  immediate  practical 
experience.  Peace  Corps  volunteers  at- 
tended the  second  training  session,  then 
spread  word  of  the  technology  to  commu- 
nities where  they  worked. 

With  a  grant  from  the  U.S.  Department 
of  Energy,  Enersol  and  the  University  of 


40 


Spring  1993 


Massachusetts — Lowell  prepared  a  case 
study  of  the  organization's  activity  in  the 
Dominican  Republic.  The  150-page  report 
described  this  unique  experience  of  a  U.S. 
company  disseminating  photovoltaic  tech- 
nology at  the  grass-roots  level  in  a  devel- 
oping country.  It  also  provided  important 
lessons  to  others  who  might  choose  to 
follow  in  Enersol's  footsteps. 

Between  1984  and  1992,  about  4,000 
home  lighting  systems  were  installed  by 
Dominicans;  about  half  of  these  can  be 
traced  directly  to  Enersol's  training  and 
financing  initiatives.  Owners  say  they  are 
pleased  with  their  systems,  because  they 
put  them  in  control  of  their  own  electrical 
power.  One  noted  that  rural  solar  system 
owners  are  better  off  than  city  dwellers 
who  depend  entirely  on  centralized  elec- 
tricity. "While  the  lights  go  out  daily  in 
Dominican  cities,"  he  said,  "they  stay  on  in 
Bella  Vista." 

Now  that  solar  electric  technology  has 
gained  a  foothold  in  the  Dominican  Repub- 
lic, Hansen  is  planning  similar  programs  in 
other  countries  in  Latin  America  and  the 
Caribbean.  He  says  solar  systems  can  pro- 
vide these  nations  with  power  and  light  for 


homes,  farms,  schools,  health  clinics  and 
community  centers.  Unlike  other  rural 
energy  options,  he  notes,  solar  energy 
systems  emit  no  acid  rain  or  greenhouse 
gases,  use  no  power  lines,  and  require  no 
dams,  mines  or  refineries. 

Enersol  has  developed  a  comprehen- 
sive program  to  foster  solar-based  rural 
electrification  at  the  community,  national 
and  international  levels.  Its  Energy  Enter- 
prise Development  Activities  encourage 
the  creation  of  local  photovoltaic  service 
enterprises  that  sell,  install  and  maintain 
systems  in  remote  rural  communities.  In- 
stitutional Support  Activities  help  groups 
start  solar-based  rural  electrification  pro- 
grams. And  Public  Outreach  and  Education 
Activities  provide  information  about  the 
economic,  environmental  and  technologi- 
cal aspects  of  photovoltaic  systems  and 
their  application  in  the  developing  world. 

Enersol's  efforts  to  aid  developing 
countries  have  not  gone  unnoticed.  Its 
Dominican  Republic  program  has  received 
international  recognition  and  support  from 
such  institutions  as  the  World  Bank,  the 
Central  Bank  of  the  Dominican  Republic, 
the  USAID  Office  of  Energy,  the  U.S.  Peace 


Richard  Hansen,  far  right,  Enersol's  executive  director,  and  Eric  Johnson,  second 
from  left,  the  organization's  training  coordinator,  pose  with  a  group  of  Dominican 
technicians  at  a  training  site  in  Bella  Vista.  The  technicians  install  and  service 
Enersol's  home  solar  photovoltaic  systems.  Since  1984,  more  than  2,000  systems 
have  been  installed  in  the  Dominican  Republic  as  a  result  of  Enersol's  efforts. 


Technicians  Milo  Martinez,  left,  and 
Cesar  Hiraldo  carry  a  solar  electric 
system  to  a  rural  home  in  Bella 
Vista.  Enersol  is  planning  similar 
programs  elsewhere  in  Latin 
America  and  the  Caribbean. 


Corps,  the  Electric  Power  Research 
Institute,  Sandia  National  Laboratories, 
Oak  Ridge  National  Laboratory,  the  United 
Nations,  and  the  National  Rural  Electric 
Cooperative  Association. 

Early  on,  Hansen's  efforts  also  caught 
the  interest  of  WPI  Professor  Edward  N. 
Clarke,  who  was  then  planning  WPI's 
Center  for  Solar  Electrification.  The  two 
presented  a  workshop  at  WPI  on  solar 
electrification  in  developing  countries. 
One  of  the  first  Interactive  Qualifying 
Projects  completed  through  the  center, 
PV  Promotion  for  Rural  Electrification,  was 
done  by  Visarut  Asvaraksh  '88  and  Aswin 
Pinsuvana  '89  from  Tailand,  who  benefited 
from  Hansen's  early  experience  in  the 
Dominican  Republic. 

"We've  been  encouraged  by  the  results 
of  our  efforts  to  date,"  says  Hansen,  who 
has  recently  been  involved  in  feasibility 
studies  in  Belize,  Guatemala  and  Bolivia, 
and  has  served  as  a  consultant  under  con- 
tract with  the  World  Bank  for  the  introduc- 
tion of  solar  electric  technology  in  Yemen. 
"But  there  is  still  much  to  be  done  by  ev- 
eryone. Globally,  an  estimated  two  billion 
people  have  no  electricity." 

— Ruth  Trask 


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A  Special  Issue 
on  Medicine 


Front  Cover:  Assisted  by  a  surgical 
nurse,  plastic  surgeon  Dr.  Raymond 
Dunn  78  operates  at  the  University  of 
Massachusetts  Medical  Center.  Photo 
by  John  Ferrarone.  Story  on  page  25. 

This  Page:  David  S.  Adams,  associ- 
ate professor  of  biology  and  biotech- 
nology, examines  the  genetic  map  of  a 
gene  for  a  neurotrophic  factor.  Photo 
by  Janet  Woodcock.  Story  on  page  10. 

Back  Coven  Higgins  Labs  is  sur- 
rounded by  lush  summer  greenery. 
Plans  are  being  drawn  up  for  a  major 
overhaul  of  this  home  of  the  Mechan- 
ical Engineering  Department  Photo 
by  Donald  F.  Berth  '57. 


a 


4 


WFI  Journal 


VOLUME  XCVI  NO.  3    SUMMER  1993 


10 


21 


25 


FEATURES 


Fantastic  Voyages    Michael  Dorsey 

In  laboratories  all  across  campus,  researchers  are  at  work  attacking  a  broad 
range  of  medical  problems — from  treating  stroke,  to  mapping  the  heart,  to 
understanding  diabetes. 

Greetings  From  WPI...Wish  You  Were  Here 

Summer  is  the  season  for  vacations,  and  vacations  mean  postcards.  Here  is  a 
collection  of  the  popular  mailers  that  have  featured  pictures  of  the  Institute 
over  the  years. 

WPI  and  the  Healing  Arts 

Diane  Benison,  Carol  Campbell,  Allison  Chisolm  and  Ruth  Trask 

Meet  some  of  the  many  alumni  who  have  used  their  WPI  educations  as 

preparation  for  rewarding  careers  in  medicine... 

Atliina  Kyritsis  '87,  pediatrician,  page  26  •  Raymond  Dunn  78,  plastic  surgeon, 
page  27  •  Daniel  Pender  '63,  otologic  surgeon,  page  29  •  David  Crimmins  '58, 
dentist,  page  30  •  Bruce  Minsky  77,  radiation  oncologist,  page  31  •  Allison 
Nunn  73,  critical  care  nurse,  page  32  •  Bruce  Haffty  76,  radiation  oncologist, 
page  33  •  Mark  Mahoney  74,  emergency  room  physician,  page  34  •  George 
Batten  '67,  health  service  director,  page  36  •  Francis  Kiernan  75,  cardiologist, 
page  37  •  Carolyn  Jones  79,  industrial  hygienist,  page  38  •  William  AuBuchon 
'82,  anesthesiologist,  page  39  •  Lauren  Baker  '82,  preclinical  program  manager, 
page  40  •  Thomas  Gudewicz  78,  undersea  medicine  specialist,  page  41  • 
Emanuel  Furst  '69  (Ph.D.),  biomedical  consultant,  page  43 


DEPARTMENTS 


m 


L  Advance  Word     Michael  Dorsey 
The  education  of  a  health  professional. 

J  Letters 

Readers  respond  to  recent  articles  on  the  humanities  at  WPI 
and  the  Global  Perspective  Program. 

4  Input    John  T.  O'Connor 

Are  we  finally  ready  to  rein  in  the  health  care  system? 

7   Explorations    Michael  Dorsey  and  Bonnie  Gelbwasser 

A  sampler  of  student  projects  in  rehabilitation  engineering  and  medicine. 

44  Final  Word    Ruth  Trask 

How  tavern  owner  Chandler  Jones  '26  has  preserved  a  bit  of  history. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Alumni  News  Editor,  Ruth  S.  Trask  •  Writers,  Diane  Benison,  Bonnie  Gelbwasser  and  Neil  Norum  •  Designer,  Michael  J.  Sherman  • 
Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock.  •  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Cleary  71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82  •  William  J.  Firla 
Jr.  '60  •  William  R.  Grogan  '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C.  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams  '50  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128)  is  published  quarterly  for  the 
WPI  Alumni  Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second-class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  Mass.,  and  additional  mailing  offices.  Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt. 
Printed  in  the  U.S.A. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence  to  the  Editor, 
WPUournal,  WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  Mail  (Internet),  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu.  Postmaster:  If  undeliverable, 
please  send  form  3579  to  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  ©  1993,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


ADVANCE  WORD 


"All  medical 
schools  look  for 
evidence  of  inde- 
pendent work  or 

research  of  the 
type  fostered  by 

the  WPIPlan. " 


The  Education 

of  a  Health  Professional 


What  do  WPI  graduates 
do  for  a  living?  The  an- 
swer to  that  question 
may  surprise  you.  Many,  of 
course,  have  adhered  to  the  ca- 
reer paths  most  often  associated 
with  their  major  fields  of  study. 

But  more  and  more,  WPI 
alumni  are  using  their  educations 
as  starting  points  for  lines  of 
work  that  diverge  from  these  tra- 
ditional occupations.  In  the  Fall 
1991  issue  of  the  WPI  Journal  we 

focused  on  alumni  who  work  in  

the  food  industry,  doing  every- 
thing from  farming  to  running  restaurants.  More  recently,  we  profiled 
engineering  and  science  graduates  who've  built  successful  careers  as 
patent  attorneys. 

Over  the  past  few  years,  readers  of  the  Journal  and  the  WPI  Wire 
have  met  graduates  who  work  as  actors,  artists,  musicians,  writers, 
artists'  agents,  furniture  makers,  cartographers,  teachers,  judges, 
golf  pros,  corporate  travel  managers  and  pilots.  And  we  are  just  be- 
ginning to  scratch  the  surface. 

One  field  that  has  traditionally  attracted  many  WPI  graduates  is 
medicine.  In  this  special  issue  of  the  Journal  we  profile  15  alumni 
who  work  as  physicians,  as  well  as  in  a  host  of  other  medically 
related  professions.  These  stories  begin  on  page  25.  You  will  also 
find — beginning  on  page  10 — a  round-up  of  medically  oriented 
research  under  way  on  campus. 

For  students  contemplating  careers  in  medicine,  WPI  offers  the 
Pre-Health  Professions  Program,  which  helps  students  prepare  for 
careers  in  medicine,  dental  medicine  and  veterinary  medicine.  Stu- 
dents who  want  to  be  veterinarians  can  also  apply  to  the  highly  suc- 
cessful B.S./D.V.M.  program  that  WPI  offers  in  conjunction  with  the 
Tufts  University  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine.  A  select  group  of 
high  school  seniors  are  admitted  each  year  to  both  institutions;  they 
will  study  at  WPI  and  then  at  Tufts,  earning  a  B.S.  in  biochemistry, 
biology/biotechnology  or  biomechanics  from  the  Institute  and  a 
doctorate  in  veterinary  medicine  from  Tufts. 

Through  the  Pre-Health  Professions  Program,  pre-health  profes- 
sions advisors — Jill  Rulfs,  assistant  professor  of  biology  and  biotech- 
nology, and  Douglas  T.  Browne,  associate  professor  of  chemistry — 
provide  interested  students  with  advice  on  the  courses  they  will 
need  to  take  at  WPI  to  prepare  for  medical  school  admission  and 
also  help  them  through  the  process  of  taking  the  Medical  College 
Admission  Test  (MCAT)  and  applying  to  medical  schools. 

Beginning  next  year,  students  will  have  the  opportunity  to 
perform  volunteer  work  at  local  hospitals,  doing  such  tasks  as  help- 


Kim  Marquis  '88,  currently  a  resident  at  the  University  of 
Washington  Medical  Center,  says  WPI's  project-oriented 
education  and  strong  science  programs  helped  prepare 
her  for  medical  school. 

ing  out  in  medical  labs  and  emergency  rooms  or  serving  as  patient 
advocates  and  translators.  According  to  Rulfs,  many  students  who 
intend  to  apply  to  medical  school  get  additional  hospital-based  ex- 
perience through  their  required  WPI  projects. 

"These  projects  can  give  students  a  real  competitive  advantage," 
she  says.  "They  learn  a  bit  more  about  how  the  medical  system 
works  and  make  valuable  contacts."  Last  year,  about  60  students 
conducted  Interactive  Qualifying  Projects  and  Major  Qualifying  Proj- 
ects at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical  Center  and  Saint 
Vincent  Hospital  in  Worcester,  at  two  hospitals  in  San  Francisco  affil- 
iated with  WPI's  San  Francisco  Project  Center,  at  the  Tufts  Veteri- 
nary School  and  at  other  health-related  facilities  in  the  Worcester 
area.  (See  "Explorations,"  page  7,  for  examples  of  recent  medically 
related  projects.) 

The  Pre-Health  Professions  Program  is  regularly  evaluated  by  the 
Pre-Health  Professions  Advisory  Committee,  which  is  composed  of 
WPI  alumni  and  other  health  professionals.  On-campus  seminars  by 
working  medical  professionals  provide  students  with  insight  into 
current  issues  in  medicine  and  into  the  demands  and  rewards  of 
their  prospective  professions. 

Currently,  87  WPI  students  participate  in  the  Pre-Health  Profes- 
sions Program.  The  Class  of  1997  includes  about  50  members  who 
have  already  expressed  an  interest  in  pursuing  a  medical  career,  a 


Summer  1993 


LETTERS 


significant  jump  from  recent  classes. 
Each  year,  between  five  and  10  students 
apply  to  medical  schools,  a  number  that 
is  expected  to  triple  within  three  years 
due  to  rising  interest  among  current  stu- 
dents. 

Rulfs  says  WPI  students  consistently 
perform  at  or  above  the  national  average 
on  the  MCAT  and  are  at  or  above  the  av- 
erage in  medical  school  admissions  rates. 
But,  she  notes,  medical  school  admissions 
currently  "are  as  competitive  as  they  have 
ever  been."  While  WPI  does  not  "weed 
out"  any  candidate  from  its  pre-health 
program,  as  some  colleges  do,  it  does  ad- 
vise all  students  interested  in  health  ca- 
reers to  be  prepared  to  pursue  other  pro- 
fessions, should  they  not  win  admission 
to  medical,  dental  or  veterinary  school. 

As  you  will  see  as  you  read  this  issue, 
alumni  who  have  made  the  cut  and  built 
successful  careers  as  medical  profes- 
sionals consistently  look  back  at  their  WPI 
education  as  a  major  reason  for  their  suc- 
cess in  the  field.  In  particular,  the  empha- 
sis of  the  Institute's  academic  program  on 
self-study  and  small-group  teaching  is 
consistent  with  the  teaching  approach  of 
most  medical  schools,  and  the  experience 
in  problem  solving  students  gain  through 
their  projects  is  excellent  preparation  for 
medical  diagnosis  and  research. 

Kim  Marquis  '88  is  putting  her  train- 
ing to  work  as  a  second-year  resident  in 
internal  medicine  at  the  University  of 
Washington  Medical  Center  in  Seattle. 
She  received  her  M.D.  from  Duke  Univer- 
sity School  of  Medicine.  "I  felt  well  pre- 
pared for  medical  school — especially  in 
the  area  of  molecular  biology — because 
of  WPI's  strong  science  programs,"  she 
says.  "I  also  feel  a  technical  background 
can  be  invaluable  considering  the  exten- 
sive use  of  computers  and  sophisticated 
equipment  in  medicine  today." 

Notes  Bruce  Minsky  77,  who  is  pro- 
filed on  page  31,  "All  medical  schools 
look  for  evidence  of  independent  work  or 
research  of  the  type  fostered  by  the  WPI 
Plan.  There  still  aren't  many  undergradu- 
ate students  who  have  this  kind  of  expe- 
rience; it's  what  distinguishes  the  WPI 
applicant  from  thousands  of  others  ap- 
plying to  medical  schools.  Being  able  to 
independently  think  a  problem  through 
and  carry  it  out  from  beginning  to  end  is 
critical,  because  it's  exactly  the  skill  you 
use  when  treating  patients." 

—Michael  Dorsey 


To  the  Editor: 

An  eager  reader  of  the  WPI  Journal,  I  found  the  Winter  1993  issue  the  most  interesting 
that  1  have  read  in  43  years. 

From  the  opening  of  the  first  assembly  of  my  freshman  class,  1  recall  only  one  thing. 
The  first  speaker  was  Dean  Howe.  After  approaching  the  lectern  in  Alden  Memorial,  he 
scanned  the  assembled  class— 90  percent  World  War  II  veterans-and  said,  "Gentlemen, 
look  at  the  man  on  your  left  and  the  man  on  your  right.  A  year  from  now,  one  will  not  be 
here  and  the  other  will  take  five  years  to  graduate." 

I  returned  the  next  year  following  a  successful  two  semesters  of  study  that  I  did  not  find 
difficult.  However,  I  completed  only  one  more  semester,  having  already  decided  to  transfer 
to  Clark  University.  That  decision  was  made  upon  discovering  that,  while  the  engineering 
program  was  satisfactory,  an  educational  setting  wherein  most  students  felt  that  taking  an 
English  course  was  a  waste  of  time  was  too  stifling  an  environment  for  me.  I  found  my  satis- 
faction in  degrees  from  Clark  and  Harvard. 

My  associations  and  friends  from  WPI  have  re- 
mained strong  and  I  watched  with  pleasure  the  in- 
troduction of  a  meaningfully  integrated  program  in 
the  humanities  at  the  Institute.  If  I  had  entered  WPI 
at  anytime  from  the  1970s  on,  I  would  have  been 
satisfied.  I  found  your  latest  exposition  on  the  hu- 
manities program  ("Enriching  Life  and  Making  a 
Living")  the  most  forceful  presentation  to  date. 

Carl  J.  Davis  '50,  West  Burke,  Vt. 

To  the  Editor: 

I  just  received  my  Spring  1993  WPI  Journal  and  was 
most  pleasantly  surprised  to  see  the  Mapparium 
on  the  cover.  I  have  been  station  manager  at  WCSN, 
the  World  Service  of  the  Christian  Science  Monitor, 
since  1987.  We,  along  with  our  other  two  stations  in 
South  Carolina  and  Saipan,  North  Mariana  Islands, 
broadcast  Monitor  Radio  worldwide  via  shortwave. 
So  with  our  international  involvement,  I  guess  I 
became  involved  in  the  "Global  Perspective"  before 
it  became  "politically  correct." 

Robert  "Stess"  Stessel  '69,  Milford,  Maine 
(via  electronic  mail) 

To  the  Editor: 

1  enjoyed  reading  "The  Whole  World  in  Their 
Hands"  (Spring  1993).  It's  good  to  see  that  WPI  is 
continuing  its  efforts  as  a  global  educator  through 
ongoing  expansion  of  its  foreign  project  centers. 
On  page  13,  it  was  mentioned  that  several  fac- 
ulty members  are  expanding  the  program  beyond 
the  IQP  such  that  students  will  be  able  to  complete 
the  MQP  abroad.  I  know  of  one  instance  where  this  has  already  happened.  Paul  Wojciak  '91 
and  1  completed  our  MQP  at  the  London  Project  Center  during  the  summer  of  1990.  Under 
the  direction  of  Professor  Jim  Demetry,  we  evaluated  hardware/software/experiments 
used  at  several  existing  controls  engineering  labs  at  a  number  of  universities  in  the  London 
area.  The  final  report  made  hardware  recommendations  and  outlined  a  number  of  controls 
experiments  for  use  in  a  much  needed  (at  the  time)  controls  lab  at  WPI. 

Jason  Demerski  '91,  Pittsfield,  Mass. 
(via  electronic  mail) 


WPI  Journal 


INPUT 

Are  We  Finally  Ready  to  Rein  in 
the  Health  Care  System? 

By  John  T.  O'Connor 

By  now  we're  all  familiar  with  the  statistics.  In  the  United  States 
we  spend  more  than  $800  billion  a  year  on  health  care — 
more  than  $2  billion  a  day.  That's  about  14  percent  of  the 
total  output  of  the  U.S.  economy;  in  other  words,  we  spend  about 
one-seventh  of  all  the  income  our  economy  generates  on  this  one 
service.  In  comparison,  we  spent  less  than  5  percent  of  a  much 
smaller  GDP  on  medical  care  in  1950.  Even  today,  England,  Canada 
and  most  Western  nations  spend  about  half  as  much  of  their 
national  output  on  health  care  as  we  do. 

Though  we  pay  more  for  it,  survey  after  survey  has  shown  that 
Americans  are  less  satisfied  with  their  medical  care  system  than  res- 
idents of  other  countries.  And  the  U.S.  ranks  poorly  in  many  of  the 
basic  measures  of  health — including  infant  mortality — when  com- 
pared to  many  other  nations. 

In  the  public  sector,  which  pays  for  about  40  percent  of  our  med- 
ical care  costs,  these  higher  expenditures — which  continue  to  grow 
much  faster  than  the  rate  of  inflation — are  a  cause  of  great  concern. 
Federal,  state  and  local  budgets  have  taken  tremendous  hits.  As  a 

result,  other  valuable  and  necessary  items       

have  been  crowded  out. 

In  the  private  sector,  it's  estimated  that 
37  million  Americans  have  no  medical 
insurance;  another  20  million  are  thought  to 
be  seriously  underinsured.  This  is  not  just  a 
problem  for  the  unemployed;  most  of  the 
uninsured  have  jobs.  Rather,  it  is  a  direct 
result  of  the  unaffordably  high  cost  of  med- 
ical insurance.  Ask  business  owners  and 
they  will  tell  you  that  they  feel  that  our  na- 
tion's competitive  position  in  world  mar- 
kets is  being  drastically  undermined  by  the 
high  premiums  they  pay  each  year  on  employee  health  insurance 
policies. 

How  did  we  get  into  this  mess?  The  current  problems  in  health 
care  in  the  U.S.  began  just  after  World  War  II,  a  period  that  saw  the 
start  of  a  tremendous  expansion  in  the  American  medical  care  indus- 
try. In  other  writings  I've  referred  to  this  time  as  the  "promotive  stage" 
of  our  health  care  industry. 

Contrary  to  the  predictions  of  most  economists,  the  U.S.  econ- 
omy did  not  lapse  into  recession  as  the  nation  demobilized  following 
the  war.  High  levels  of  postwar  liquidity  led  to  enormous  levels  of 
pent-up  demand  (after  the  Depression  of  the  1930s  and  the  forced 
conservation  of  the  defense  expansion).  Private  and  public  sector 
revenues  expanded  significantly,  setting  the  stage  for  income-elastic 
industries — like  health  care — to  grow  disproportionately. 

The  federal  government  responded  to  this  relative  affluence  by 
passing  legislation  that  greatly  expanded  its  own  role  in  medical 


"The  postwar  expan- 
sion of  federal  funding 
for  medical  care  was 
accompanied  by  mas- 
sive growth  in  private 
sector  health  insurance. 


care.  The  Hill  Burton  Act  of  1946  made  billions  of  dollars 
available  for  new  and  improved  hospitals  throughout  the 
country.  Further  billions  were  provided  to  finance  medical 
research  and  to  increase  the  supply  of  physicians.  Perhaps 
most  significant,  Congress  in  1965  created  Medicare  and 
Medicaid  to  pay  for  medical  care  for  the  elderly  and  the 
poor,  respectively,  adding  what  currently  amounts  to  hun- 
dreds of  billions  of  dollars  each  year  to  the  cost  of  medical 
care  delivery. 

The  postwar  expansion  of  federal  funding  for  medical 
care  was  accompanied  by  massive  growth  in  private  sec- 
tor health  insurance.  In  an  era  of  relatively  cheap  insur- 
ance premiums  and  progressive  personal  income  tax  rates, 
organized  labor  and  management  considered  it  wise  to  fat- 
ten compensation  packages  with  more  nontaxable  health 
insurance  benefits. 

The  growth  of  private  and  public  medical  insurance 
was  not  only  acceptable,  but  advantageous  to  organized 

medicine  (particularly  to  the 

American  Medical  Association), 
for  it  was  based  on  the  prevailing 
model  of  solo-practice,  fee-for- 
service,  cost-based  reimburse- 
ment. The  insured  were  allowed 
freedom  of  choice  in  their  selec- 
tion of  physicians,  hospitals, 
etc.;  controls  on  the  utilization 
of  services  were  minimal.  \ 

By  the  late  1960s,  the  con-       j 
sequences  of  the  enormous  \ 

postwar  boost  to  the  medical        \ 
industry  were  becoming  increasingly  apparent.  Medical      I 
care  inflation  was  out  of  control,  as  costs  and  expendi- 
tures skyrocketed.  It  became  clear  that  a  massive  redistribution 
of  income  and  resources  had  been  taking  place — away  from 
taxpayers  and  other  private  sectors  and  into  the  medical  care 
sector. 

Washington's  first  reaction  was  to  attempt  to  control  the  prob- 
lem through  regulation.  Comprehensive  Health  Planning  legislation, 
signed  by  President  Johnson,  was  an  ambitious  and  somewhat  naive 
attempt  to  rationalize  the  American  medical  care  delivery  system  by 
establishing  regional  health  planning  agencies.  Although  the  pack- 
age funded  the  education  of  system  planners  and  created  invaluable 
sets  of  statistical  data,  cooperation  from  health  care  providers  was 
largely  voluntary.  In  fact,  the  legislation  contained  language  that  re- 
quired it  to  be  implemented  "without  interference  with  existing  pat- 
terns of  private  professional  practice  of  medicine...."  As  a  result,  the 


Summer  1993 


f^AftaJd^ 


law  was  a  disappointment  to  many  of  those  interested  in  reforming 
the  system. 

More  legislation  followed.  A  1972  law  created  Professional 
Standards  Review  Organizations  to  provide  peer  review  of  the 
appropriateness  of  care  and  the  length  of  hospital  stays  for  patients 
covered  by  Medicare  and  Medicaid.  Many  states  in  the  early  1970s 
adopted  "Certificate  of  Need"  laws  that  required  a  public  body  to  ap- 
prove capital  expenditures  or  substantive  changes  in  the  services 
provided  by  medical  providers. 

The  National  Health  Planning  and  Resources  Development  Act  of 
1974  consolidated  and  extended  existing  legislation,  combining  ele- 
ments of  regulation,  health  planning  and  federal  funding  for  facilities 
development.  It  put  the  federal  government  in  a  proactive  role  in  re- 
forming health  care  in  the  U.S.,  its  supporters  claimed. 


Despite  of  all  this  legislative  activity, 
medical  care  expenditures  and  price  lev- 
els continued  to  grow  much  faster  than 
the  GDP.  The  deregulatory  approach  of 
the  Reagan  and  Bush  administrations  re- 
placed government  regulation  with 
attempts  to  improve  market  competition. 
The  Republicans  wondered  why  this  in- 
dustry couldn't  be  made  to  conform  more 
closely  to  the  economist's  model  of  pure 
competition. 

During  this  period,  funds  for  health 
planning,  the  education  of  new  physicians 
and  the  creation  of  new  medical  facilities 
were  eliminated  or  substantially 
curtailed.  Private  and  public  efforts  con- 
centrated on  making  consumers  better 
informed,  promoting  competitive  Health 
Maintenance  Organizations,  and  reducing 
the  barriers  to  new  suppliers  of  medical 
care. 

But  this  strategy  has  also  failed  to  halt 
the  runaway  growth  of  the  medical  care 
industry.  What's  more,  growing  numbers 
of  people  are  either  uninsured  or  paying 
more  out-of-pocket  in  the  form  of  deduc- 
tibles and  coinsurance.  And  it's  widely 
believed  that  the  system  is  still  overex- 
panded — in  terms  of  capital  and  person- 
nel— and  that  this  excess  capacity  exacer- 
bates the  costliness  of  the  industry. 

It's  clear  that  massive  changes  must 
be  made  in  the  way  medical  care  is 
financed  and  delivered  in  the  United 
States.  Regulation  and  competitive  strate- 
gies have  failed  to  limit  the  system's  ex- 
pansion, and  an  overly  expanded  system, 
still  financed  largely  through  an  expense- 
promoting,  cost-based  reimbursement 
system  and  fueled  by  a  government-  and 
private-supported  network  of  third-party 
payers,  is  capable  of  consuming  virtually 
unlimited  resources. 

Medical  care  is  still  as  much  an  art 
as  a  science;  different  physicians  frequently  follow  widely  varying 
treatment  protocols  for  the  same  conditions.  Without  an  incentive 
system  that  encourages  physicians  to  make  more  efficient  use  of  re- 
sources and  reduces  the  monopoly  power  enjoyed  by  health  care 
providers,  there  is  little  hope  for  beneficial  change.  On  the  contrary, 
with  the  aging  of  the  population,  the  AIDs  epidemic  and  the  contin- 
ued expansion  of  expensive  biomedical  technology,  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  the  industry  will  continue  to  master  an  ever-grow- 
ing share  of  our  economy.  It's  no  wonder  that  medical  care  reform 
was  a  major  issue  in  the  Democratic  platform  in  1992. 

Although  the  Clinton  proposal  is  long  overdue — delayed,  in  part, 
by  the  complexity  of  the  issue  and  the  power  of  the  constituencies 
involved — its  likely  components  are  becoming  clear.  Managed  com- 
petition will  likely  be  the  delivery  system  of  choice.  Under  this  sys- 


WPI  Journal 


tem,  provider  groups  will  integrate  the  financing  and  delivery  of 
medical  care.  These  "Accountable  Health  Plans"  (e.g.,  Health  Main- 
tenance organizations.  Preferred  Provider  Organizations,  etc.)  will 
compete  to  provide  care  to  the  American  public. 

Patients,  or  consumers,  will  be  organized  into  advocacy  groups, 
variously  known  as  "sponsors,"  "health  insurance  purchasing  coop- 
eratives" and  "health  alliances."  These  will  establish  the  standard 
coverage  package,  negotiate  contracts  with  provider  groups,  con- 
duct the  annual  enrollment/re-enrollment  periods,  and  monitor  pa- 
tient complaints  and  quality  issues  throughout  the  contract  period. 
Large  businesses  will  likely  be  the  sponsor  group  for  their  employ- 
ees. Regional  health  alliances  will  serve  employees  of  smaller  organi- 
zations and  the  unemployed. 

Under  the  managed  care  proposal,  patients  will  have  primary  care 
physicians  who  will  serve  as  "gatekeepers,"  responsible  for  providing 
care  or  directing  treatment  (access  to  specialists  will  require  the  prior 
approval  of  one's  primary  care  physician) 

Under  managed  care,  the  provider 
group  closely  monitors  the  cost  and 
quality  of  care.  Incentives  for  cost  con- 
trol, absent  under  the  traditional  cost- 
based,  fee-for-service  delivery  system, 
are  inherent  in  such  a  system.  Without 
cost  control,  the  provider  group  can- 
not establish  premiums  that  will  attract 
patients.  Quality  considerations  are  also  built 
in.  Excessive  complaints  will  lead  consumer  al- 
liances to  eliminate  provider  groups  from  con- 
sideration during  the  next  enrollment  period. 

It's  expected  that  all  Americans  will  be 
required  to  participate  in  this  system.  Financing 
is  likely  to  come  primarily  from  employer-paid  premiums.  Employers 
above  a  certain  size  will  be  required  to  participate  in  the  payment  of 
their  employees'  premiums  through  a  health  alliance.  The 
government  will  share  in  the  cost  of  providing  coverage  to  the  unem- 
ployed. It  appears  that  vouchers  will  be  provided  to  Medicaid  partic- 
ipants so  they  can  also  be  part  of  the  new  system;  Medicare, 
however,  may  remain  autonomous. 

Although  such  a  system  has  not  been  implemented  anywhere 
else  in  the  world,  there  are  good  reasons  to  expect  that  it  will  work 
well  in  the  United  States.  A  medical  care  system  must  grow  out  of — 
and  be  consistent  with — a  country's  culture  to  be  successful.  Most 
existing  national  health  insurance  programs  are  single-payer 
systems  in  which  the  government  pays  for  health  care  through  tax 
receipts.  But  with  our  devotion  to  free  enterprise,  the  U.S. 
government  has  traditionally  played  a  less-encompassing  role. 

The  likely  features  of  the  administration's  proposal  conform  to 
our  competitive,  capitalistic  tradition.  Financing  is  primarily  through 
the  payment  of  insurance  premiums  from  the  private  sector.  The 
delivery  system  will  involve  competitive  bidding  among  private  enti- 
ties. The  role  of  the  government  will  be  limited.  The  monopoly  pow- 
er presently  in  the  hands  of  providers  will  be  limited  by  the  forma- 
tion of  health  alliances. 

But  the  government's  role  will  still  be  substantial.  The  standard 
benefit  package  will  have  to  meet  certain  requirements.  A  certain 
level  of  employer  contribution  will  be  mandatory,  as  will  participa- 
tion by  all  Americans.  The  creation  of  consumer  health  alliances  will 
require  government  involvement.  And  new  governmental  financing 


will  be  necessary  to  provide  coverage  for  some  of  those  who  are  cur- 
rently uninsured. 

But  proponents  of  the  plan  insist  that  it  is  consistent  with  the 
"American  Way."  Its  provision  of  universal  coverage  will  likely  appeal 
to  liberals  concerned  with  the  access  problems  inherent  in  the  pres- 
ent systems.  There  are  also  plan  ingredients  that  will  appeal  to  conser- 
vatives. The  role  of  government  will  likely  be  minimal  when  compared 
to  that  in  most  nations  with  national  health  insurance.  And  decentral- 
ized private  markets  will  form  the  core  of  the  delivery  system,  permit- 
ting consumers  to  choose  from  among  various  provider  groups. 

Still,  passage  of  any  such  proposal  will  not  be  easy,  as  consumers 
and  providers  will  face  significant  restrictions  on  their  traditional  free- 
doms. HMOs  have  been  around  since  the  1930s,  but  while  they've 
seen  periods  of  large  enrollment  gains  in  recent  decades,  they've  yet 
to  attract  more  than  a  modest  share  of  the  U.S.  population.  The  free- 
dom to  choose  one's  provider  and  see  a  specialist  without  prior  ap- 

proval  are  highly  valued  (albeit  costly)  features 

of  traditional  indemnity  insurance  plans;  there 
will  be  opposition  to  their  elimination. 

Many  Americans  now  enjoy  employer- 
financed  medical  insurance  with  lavish  benefits; 
QDDfOVQl  for  itS    ^e^  cannot  De  expected  to  welcome  a  more  ba- 

sic  insurance  package  with  increased  restric- 


If  the  adminis- 
tration is  to  gain 


prOpOSal,   it  mUSt    tions.  And  most  physicians  have  traditionally 


achieve  a  consensus 

on  the  trade-offs  of 

the  new  system. 


worked  with  an  independence  and  autonomy 
that  is  not  characteristic  of  managed  care. 

Opposition  can  also  be  expected  to  the  in- 
creased taxes  that  will  be  necessary  to  finance 
the  system.  While  increased  competition  and 
managed  care  should  ultimately  be  successful 
in  controlling  costs,  expanding  access  to  health 
care  and  improving  coverage  for  some  will  cost  billions  of  additional 
tax  dollars.  While  proposals  to  increase  "sin  taxes"  on  such  products 
as  alcohol  and  cigarettes  can  be  anticipated,  additional  sources  of 
revenue  may  be  necessary. 

Finally,  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  the  macroeconomy,  ex- 
penditures equal  income.  What  I  pay  a  physician  for  a  physical 
examination  is  an  expense  to  me,  but  income  to  him  or  her.  Since 
the  proposed  system  is  designed  to  control  expenditures,  it  will  also 
control  the  incomes  of  providers — institutions  and  individuals.  Not 
all  providers  will  support  the  reversal  of  the  redistribution  of  na- 
tional income  from  which  they've  benefitted  for  the  last  half  century. 

If  the  administration  is  to  gain  approval  for  its  proposal,  it  must 
achieve  a  political  consensus  on  the  trade-offs  of  the  new  system. 
While  many  of  the  benefits  will  accrue  to  low-income  groups,  those 
either  now  uninsured  or  underinsured,  many  of  the  costs  will  be  ab- 
sorbed by  those  in  the  upper  income  groups.  Universal  health  insur- 
ance encompasses  many  value  issues,  not  only  efficiency  issues. 
While  there  will  be  much  wrangling  over  specific  details  of  the 
proposals,  the  most  important  issue  may  well  be  the  nation's  collec- 
tive reaction  to  the  redistribution  of  costs  and  benefits.  While  we 
have,  as  a  nation,  reached  a  vague  consensus  that  our  medical  care 
system  needs  reform,  we  have  not  fully  come  to  terms  with  the  enor- 
mous implications  of  making  such  a  reform. 

O'Connor,  a  professor  in  the  departments  of  Social  Science  and 
Policy  Studies  and  Management  at  WPI,  has  written  and  lectured 
extensively  about  the  economics  of  health  care. 


Summer  1993 


EXPLORATIONS 


Challenging  Students 
and  Helping  People 

For  most  WPI  students,  the  Major  Quali- 
fying Project  is  an  opportunity  to  solve  a 
realistic  design  problem  in  their  major  field 
and  to  learn  about  how  engineering  and  sci- 
ence are  practiced  in  the  real  world.  But  for 
some  15  to  20  students  each  year,  the  MQP 
means  much  more — it's  a  way  of  helping 


from  attending  regular  schools.  Hoffman 
says  the  students  work  on  projects 
suggested  by  rehabilitation  engineers  at  the 
school,  developing  specialized  hardware  to 
meet  the  needs  of  individual  students.  The 
projects  help  clients  be  more  independent 
and  participate  in  a  wider  range  of  recrea- 
tional and  vocational  activities. 

In  1992,  for  example,  in  a  project  that  won 
WPl's  Provost's  MQP  Award  and  the  Edward 
C.  Perry  Award  for  outstanding  projects  in 


people  gain  greater  control  over  their  lives 
and  participate  more  fully  in  the  world 
around  them. 

Working  with  advisors  Allen  Hoffman, 
professor  of  mechanical  engineering,  and 
Holly  Ault,  assistant  professor  of  mechanical 
engineering,  these  students  complete  their 
projects  in  rehabilitation  engineering,  a  field 
that  includes  the  design  and  development  of 
devices  to  assist  the  disabled.  Since  1989, 
projects  in  this  discipline  at  WPI  have  been 
supported  by  a  grant  from  the  National 
Science  Foundation. 

Many  of  the  project  teams — there  are 
generally  between  four  and  six  each  year, 
Hoffman  says — work  with  students  at  the 
Massachusetts  Hospital  School  in  Canton, 
Mass.,  a  state-supported  residential  school 
for  students  whose  disabilities  prevent  them 


Left,  from  left,  James  Woyciesjes,  Kath 
ryn  Coughlin  and  Kerry  Bagdonovich 
designed  this  universal  arm  for  a  stu- 
dent interested  in  photography.  Above, 
this  reacher/gripper  helps  a  young  stu- 
dent lead  a  more  independent  life. 


mechanical  design,  David  Flin- 
ton  '92  and  William  Sullivan  '92 
designed  a  device  to  help  an 
1 1-year-old  with  arthrogrypo- 
sis, a  debilitating  congenital 
disorder  that  greatly  reduces  the  mobility 
and  strength  of  the  joints. 

"She  has  very  little  grip  strength,"  Hoff- 
man says.  "As  a  result,  she  drops  things— 
her  pencil,  her  paper,  her  hairbrush,  and  so 
on.  Before  this  project,  she  had  to  rely  on  an 
attendant  to  pick  them  up  because  she  can't 
reach  down  from  her  wheelchair  and  she 
can't  use  commercially  available  grippers, 
which  require  too  much  strength  and  coor- 
dination." 

In  a  process  that  is  typical  of  all  of  the  re- 
habilitation engineering  projects,  the 
students  first  learned  as  much  as  they  could 
about  the  girl's  disability.  Then,  working 
with  engineers  and  occupational  therapists 
at  the  school,  they  observed  her  physical  ca- 
pabilities. For  example,  they  used  a  pinch- 
meter  to  measure  the  maximum  force  she 


can  apply  with  her  fingers,  placed  objects  on 
the  floor  around  her  to  gauge  her  peripheral 
vision,  and  attached  a  wooden  dowel  to  the 
frame  of  the  wheelchair  to  see  how  accu- 
rately she  can  maneuver  it. 

That  last  test  led  to  a  significant  revision 
to  the  students'  preliminary  design.  "One  of 
the  students  placed  a  quarter  on  the  floor 
and  asked  her  to  see  how  close  she  could 
place  the  dowel  to  the  center  of  the  coin," 
Hoffman  says.  "Her  response  was  to  ask  if 
she  could  keep  the  quar- 
ter if  she  managed  to  do 
it."  Needless  to  say,  he 
adds,  she  kept  the  quarter. 

Hoffman  says  her  pre- 
cise targeting  ability 
enabled  the  students  to 
simplify  what  had  been  a 
complicated  reacher/grip- 
per arm.  The  finished  de- 
vice consists  of  a  motor- 
ized aluminum  arm  that 
the  student  lowers  over 
the  object  after  she  has 
wheeled  the  wheelchair 
into  the  proper  position. 
With  the  flip  of  a  switch,  a 
gripper  at  the  end  of  the 
arm  closes  on  the  object. 
The  arm  is  raised  once 
again,  bringing  the  object 
within  her  grasp. 

"This  has  really  made 
a  difference  in  her  life,"  Hoffman  says.  "She 
can  zip  about  now  and  do  things  without 
having  to  have  someone  follow  her  every- 
where she  goes.  It's  really  added  to  her 
independence." 

Here  is  a  sampler  of  other  recent 
projects  in  this  discipline: 

-  Kerry  Bagdonovich  '93,  Kathryn  Coughlin 
'93  and  James  Woyciesjes  '93  designed  a 
universal  arm  and  mount  for  a  teenage  stu- 
dent with  cerebral  palsy  who  wished  to 
take  photographs,  but  was  unable  to  hold 
or  aim  a  camera.  The  device  also  lets  her 
engage  in  other  crafts  and  use  objects  like 
her  mirror  and  hair  dryer. 

-  An  "Art  Class  Assistor,"  the  design  of 
Brendan  McLellan  '92  and  Lap  Nguyen  '92, 
makes  it  easier  for  students  with  muscular 
dystrophy,  cerebral  palsy  and  other  mus- 
cle weakening  diseases  to  draw  pictures.  It 
keeps  a  student's  arm  off  the  drawing  pa- 
per to  prevent  smearing  and  enables  the 
student  to  easily  move  his  or  her  arm  to 
any  spot  on  the  paper. 


WPI  Journal 


-  John  J.  Desrosiers  '91,  Troy  Neilsen  '91  and 
James  Trapp  '91  designed  a  vehicle  pow- 
ered by  two  electric  motors  that  provides 
mobility  for  children  who  are  too  young 
for  wheelchairs. 

-  A  therapeutic  tricycle  designed  by  Jennifer 
Almy  '93,  Dean  Giolas  '93,  Brian  Goetz  '93, 
Eric  Graham  '93  and  Gary  Krebs  '93  not 
only  lets  a  youngster  with  arthrogryposis 
get  around  with  his  friends,  but  encour- 
ages him  to  use  and  develop  his  more  seri- 
ously affected  leg. 

Ault  says  she  was  particularly  impressed 
with  a  wheelchair  pushcart  designed  by 
Donna  Underwood  '93,  Steven  Schoeck  '93 
and  Michael  Bristol  '93  with  the  help  of 


Ault  says  rehabilitation  engineering  pro- 
jects have  proven  especially  popular  at  WPI 
because  they  let  students  solve  real  prob- 
lems for  real  people.  But  she  notes  that  they 
also  provide  outstanding  training  in  design, 
as  they  require  students  to  go  through  the 
entire  design  process — from  identifying  a 
problem,  to  conducting  a  detailed  design  and 
engineering  analysis,  to  making  and  testing  a 
prototype,  to  producing  a  usable  device. 

"The  requirement  we  place  on  students 
is  that  they  deliver  a  working  device,"  Hoff- 
man adds.  "We  won't  settle  for  anything 
less.  But  we  find  that  the  fact  that  these  de- 
vices will  actually  be  used  by  disabled  indi- 
viduals provides  a  strong  motivation  for  stu- 


From  left,  Jesse  Spencer,  Jonne  Helenius,  Sean  Kavanaugh  and  Professor 
Douglas  Walcerz  with  the  cardiac  massage  simulator  the  students  designed. 


solid-modeling  and  finite  element  analysis 
software  in  WPI's  CAD  Lab.  The  cart  was  de- 
signed for  a  student  whose  job  at  the  school 
is  setting  and  clearing  the  tables  for  meals. 
The  lightweight  cart  quickly  attaches  to  the 
front  of  his  wheelchair  and  has  separate 
molded  plastic  inserts  to  hold  clean  and 
dirty  dishes. 

"It  really  became  part  of  his  wheelchair; 
with  practice  he  was  able  to  wheel  it  around 
as  easily  as  the  chair  alone,"  she  says.  "It 
should  have  a  lot  of  other  applications.  For 
example,  it  could  make  shopping  much  eas- 
ier for  disabled  people."  She  notes  that  a  stu- 
dent project  team  next  year  will  look  at  the 
possibility  of  gaining  wider  distribution  for 
this  and  other  student  projects. 


dents  to  follow  through.  And  the  students 
get  a  great  deal  of  satisfaction  from  helping 
these  people  out." 

—Michael  Dorsey 


Shape  Memory  Study 
is  a  Winner 

For  their  Major  Qualifying  Project,  Nancy 
Lynn  Koczera  '93  and  Walter  C.  Kretzer 
Jr.  '92  investigated  surgical  staples  fabri- 
cated from  shape  memory  thermoplastics. 
In  April,  a  paper  about  this  MQP  earned  first 
place  (out  of  40  papers)  in  the  Undergrad- 


uate Student  Paper  Competition  at  the  12th 
Southern  Biomedical  Engineering  Confer- 
ence in  New  Orleans. 

Koczera  and  Kretzer  studied  thermoplas- 
tics, which  can  be  shaped  at  high  threshold, 
cooled,  then  reformed.  If  the  temperature  is 
raised  above  a  certain  temperature,  the 
polymer  will  return  to  its  original  shape. 
These  materials  have  applications  to  a  wide 
range  of  products  and  industries,  from  toys 
to  medicine. 

For  their  research  and  report,  Koczera 
and  Kretzer  tested  polymer  compositions  to 
determine  which  combination  would  be  the 
best  replacement  for  the  stainless  steel  frac- 
ture-fixation devices  currently  used  to  hold 
healing  bones  in  place.  Physicians  have 
come  to  recognize  that  polymers,  which  are 
similar  in  density  to  bone,  allow  broken 
bones  to  heal  without  the  slight  osteoporo- 
sis that  can  occur  when  steel  devices  are 
used.  In  addition,  these  polymers  are  gradu- 
ally resorbed  into  the  body,  eliminating  the 
need  for  surgical  removal  of  the  device. 
Satya  Shivkumar,  assistant  professor  of  me- 
chanical engineering,  and  David  DiBiasio, 
associate  professor  of  chemical  engineering, 
were  the  project  advisors. 

—Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


Building  A  Cardiac 
Massage  Simulator 

The  operation  is  progressing  normally, 
when,  without  warning,  the  patient  goes 
into  shock.  His  heart  beats  rapidly,  then 
stops.  Faced  with  this  life-or-death  situation, 
a  surgeon  has  several  choices.  If  other  life- 
saving  measures  fail  to  get  the  heart  going 
again,  he  can  open  the  chest  and  massage 
the  heart. 

Surgeons  routinely  use  open-chest  cardi- 
ac massage  (OCCM)  to  resuscitate  patients 
during  open-heart  surgery  and  in  a  number  of 
other  situations;  veterinarians  use  it  even 
more  frequently  because  the  rib  cage  of 
many  animal  species  makes  external  heart 
massage  relatively  ineffective.  Until  now, 
most  medical  and  veterinary  students 
received  limited  hands-on  training  in  open- 
chest  cardiac  massage  because  of  the  cost  of 
laboratory  exercises  and  the  ethical  necessity 
of  minimizing  the  use  of  laboratory  animals. 

WPI  students  Michael  T.  Clohecy  '93, 
Jonne  Henrik  Helenius  '93,  Sean  M. 


Summer  1993 


Kavanaugh  '93,  Kevin  M.  Lord  '93,  Jesse  W. 
Spencer  '93  and  Jessica  M.  Young  '92  have 
applied  for  a  patent  for  their  Open-Chest 
Cardiac  Massage  Simulator,  a  working  pro- 
totype of  the  heart  that  can  be  used  to  dem- 
onstrate and  practice  the  proper  ways  to 
administer  the  procedure.  It  is  expected  to 
be  an  important  teaching  tool  for  medical 
and  veterinary  students  and  for  other  health 
care  professionals.  It  could  also  be  used  by 
these  individuals  to  review  and  practice 
their  technique  during  their  careers. 

Five  of  the  students  worked  with  Douglas 
B.  Walcerz,  assistant  professor  of  mechani- 
cal engineering,  and  Dr.  James  Ross,  profes- 
sor and  chairman  of  medicine  at  Tufts 
University  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  in 
North  Grafton,  Mass.,  to  design  a  device  for 
simulating  OCCM.  The  project  was  initiated 
in  1992  by  Jessica  Young. 

The  simulator  consists  of  a  hollow  sili- 
cone heart  attached  to  a  system  of  tubes, 
valves  and  reservoirs  that  model  venous 
and  arterial  input  and  output  to  provide 
tactile  feedback  to  the  practitioner  through 
variable  flow  rates  and  pressures.  The  team 
studied  a  sheep's  heart  they  obtained  from  a 
slaughterhouse  before  creating  an  aluminum 
and  later  a  silicone  model. 

"The  model  has  the  look  and  feel  of  a  real 
heart  and  is  designed  to  be  filled  with  liquid 
— probably  a  water/glycerol  mix,"  says 
Walcerz.  "It  is  fitted  with  tubes  with  valves 
on  them  to  enable  the  instructor  to  simulate 
actual  conditions  like  shock  and  vasocon- 
striction, so  the  student  can  actually  feel 
what  is  happening." 

—Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


Helping  Physicians 
See  More  Clearly 

For  their  Major  Qualifying  Project,  Richard 
J.  Bombard  '93,  Douglas  F.  Finkle  '93  and 
Mark  Turbitt  '93  completed  a  study  that  will 
help  physicians  and  scientists  more  accu- 
rately see  why  and  how  cells  act  the  way 
they  do. 

Using  digital  technology  and  light  micros- 
copy, biologists  and  clinicians  have  been 
able  to  observe  fluorescent  dye-stained  cells 
under  powerful  microscopes  to  see  and  bet- 
ter understand  the  complex  changes  that 
can  take  place  in  the  molecules  and  ions  in 
living  cells.  This  knowledge  can  play  an  im- 


From  left,  Dr.  Fredric  Fay  of  the 
UMass  Medical  Center  with  Douglas 
Finkle  and  Mark  Turbitt,  who  studied 
several  algorithms  used  in  digital 
image  restoration. 

portant  role  in  diagnosis,  and  ultimately 
treatment,  of  illnesses  and  diseases. 

For  example,  within  the  last  few  years  a 
protein  defect  has  been  identified  within  the 
genes  of  cystic  fibrosis  patients  and  the  con- 
centration of  calcium  ions  in  smooth  muscle 
cells  has  been  shown  to  have  a  significant 
role  in  hypertension,  asthma,  bladder  dis- 
functions, kidney  disease  and  gastrointesti- 
nal disturbances. 

Before  the  development  of  this  new  mi- 
croscope technology,  it  was  not  possible  to 
observe  complex  intercellular  processes. 
Normal  light  microscopes  are  plagued  with 
optical  distortions,  known  as  aberrations. 
But  optical  aberrations  can  be  reversed  if 
they  can  first  be  accurately  measured  and 
mathematically  described.  This  process  is 
known  as  image  restoration.  Using  powerful 
computers,  image  restoration  and  feature- 
enhancement  techniques  are  being  used  to 
produce  three-dimensional  images  of  cells. 
But,  because  the  science  is  so  new,  some 
restoration  techniques  produce  visually  and 
numerically  inaccurate  images. 

Bombard,  Finkle  and  Turbitt,  who  re- 
ceived bachelor's  degrees  in  electrical  and 
computer  engineering  in  May,  worked  with  a 
team  of  scientists  from  the  Biomedical  Imag- 
ing Group,  part  of  the  Physiology  Department 
of  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical 
School  in  Worcester,  to  test  and  compare 
the  performances  of  several  restoration  algo- 
rithms currently  in  use.  Algorithms  are  road- 
maps  or  blueprints  that  tell  scientists  which 
steps  to  follow  to  make  best  use  of  their 
experimental  information. 

The  students'  goal  was  to  ascertain 
which  of  several  restoration  algorithms  pro- 


duce the  most  accurate  images 
under  a  variety  of  test  condi- 
tions. The  test  results  will  help 
biologists  and  clinicians  in- 
crease their  understanding  of 
complex  cell  structures  and 
processes.  The  WP1  faculty  ad- 
visors were  Denise  W.  Nicoletti, 
assistant  professor  of  electrical 
and  computer  engineering,  and 
Michael  A.  Gennert,  assistant 
professor  of  computer  science. 

"The  students  acted  effec- 
tively to  test  a  number  of  algo- 
rithms that  have  been  proposed  to  enhance 
resolution,"  says  Dr.  Fredric  S.  Fay,  director 
of  the  Biomedical  Imaging  Group.  "Their  re- 
sults have  long  been  awaited  by  the  field 
and  represent  much  needed,  careful  and  un- 
biased analysis.  Their  work  will  provide  use- 
ful guidance  for  biomedical  researchers  in- 
terested in  using  digital  imaging  microscopy 
throughout  the  world."  Fay's  laboratory  is 
world  renowned  for  pioneering  a  novel  ap- 
proach to  digital  imaging  microscopy. 

The  students  developed  a  number  of 
computer  models  as  test  images,  estab- 
lished testing  criteria  that  can  be  used  for 
future  tests,  and  wrote  process-control  soft- 
ware to  automate  the  testing  procedures. 
They  determined  that  the  most  accurate 
algorithm  of  those  presented  for  study  was 
the  least  squares  regularization  with  non- 
negativity,  which  was  developed  by  Walter 
Carrington,  a  mathematician  from  the 
Biomedical  Imaging  Group  who  was  an  assis- 
tant professor  of  mathematical  sciences  at 
WPI  in  1984-85.  They  presented  a  summary 
of  their  project  at  the  December  meeting  of 
the  WPI  Board  of  Trustees. 

"This  project  fulfilled  the  technical 
requirements  of  an  MQP  because  the 
students  learned  techniques  of  software 
engineering,  microscopy,  simulation  and 
restoration  algorithms,  and  model  testing," 
says  Nicoletti.  "Engineering  design  must  be 
included  in  any  MQP;  the  design  compon- 
ents of  this  project  were  the  selection  of  al- 
gorithms, efficient  coding  of  the  algorithms, 
creation  of  automatic  and  user-friendly  in- 
terfaces for  model  testing,  and  appropriate 
statistical  measurements  of  the  model 
performance.  This  project  was  particularly 
rewarding  because  it  combined  advanced, 
theoretical  topics  from  electrical  engineer- 
ing with  the  solution  of  an  important  scien- 
tific problem." 

—Bonnie  Gelbwasser 


WPI  Journal 


Pioneering  New  Ways  to 
Detect  and  Treat  Stroke 

^^  ince  it  was  first  developed  in  the  late  1970s,  magnetic  reso- 
^k   nance  imaging,  or  MR1,  has  become  a  powerful  tool  for  prob- 
%J   ing  the  body  for  signs  of  cancer  and  other  diseases.  This 
technique  employs  a  combination  of  a  strong  magnet  and  radio 
signals  to  produce  detailed  images  of  the  body's  internal  structure. 

In  recent  years,  new  techniques  have  been  developed  that 
have  greatly  expanded  the  capabilities  of  MR1.  In  pioneering 
research  undertaken  over  the  past  few  years  by  a  consortium  of 


A  roundup  of  explorations  under  way  in 

WPI's  research  laboratories  aimed  at  advancing 

the  leading  edge  of  medicine 


Fantastic 


By  Michael  Dorsey 

All  over  the  WPI  campus, 

faculty  members  and  students 

—from  undergraduates  on  up  to 

postdocs—are  conducting 

research  that  is  opening  new 

frontiers  in  medicine.  In  this  one 

article,  we  can  highlight  only  a 

small  sample  of  this  exciting 

work.  Watch  future  issues  of  the 

WPI  Journal  andW\  Wire  for 

more  stories  about  ongoing 

research  in  medicine  and  many 

other  disciplines. 


medical  research  groups  at  WPI  and  six  New  England  hospitals,  a 
combination  of  novel  MR1  techniques  and  new  drugs  is  providing, 
for  the  first  time,  a  method  for  detecting  the  onset  of  stroke  and 
treating  it  before  devastating  brain  damage  occurs. 

Stroke  is  the  third  leading  cause  of  death  in  the  U.S.  The  condi- 
tion occurs  when  an  artery  feeding  blood  into  the  brain  becomes 
blocked,  often  by  a  blood  clot,  depriving  nerve  tissue  of  oxygen  and 
energy — a  condition  called  ischemia.  Almost  immediately,  a  small 
region  of  brain  cells  dies,  but  cells  surrounding  this  core,  although 
compromised,  can  recover  if  treatment  begins  soon  enough. 

Unfortunately,  standard  methods  of  diagnosing  stroke — 
including  conventional  MRI — cannot  detect  the  signs  of  ischemia 
until  several  hours  after  the  flow  of  blood  ceases.  By  that  time,  the 
damage  is  generally  irreversible.  In  fact,  many  neurologists  be- 
lieve treatment  must  start  within  the  first  hour  of  a  stroke  to  have 
any  chance  of  success. 

As  part  of  a  consortium  that  includes  the  University  of 
Massachusetts  Medical  Center  and  the  Medical  Center  of  Central 
Massachusetts,  WPI's  Magnetic  Resonance  Research  Center  has 
been  evaluating  the  ability  of  several  new  MRI  techniques  to  de- 
tect the  early  effects  of  stroke.  One  of  the  most  promising  of  these 
new  techniques  is  called  diffusion-weighted  (DW)  MRI.  In  this 
method,  signal  intensity  in  the  image  is  proportional  to  the  diffu- 
sion coefficient  of  water,  a  measure  of  how  readily  water  mole- 
cules move  through  a  medium. 

Christopher  H.  Sotak,  associate  professor  of  biomedical  engi- 
neering and  director  of  the  Magnetic  Resonance  Research  Center, 
and  his  research  collaborators  have  been  exploiting  the  fact  that 
DW  MRI  can  detect  an  ischemic  region  of  the  brain  far  more 
quickly  after  the  onset  of  stroke  than  other  diagnostic  techniques. 
While  four  to  six  hours  can  pass  before  the  effects  of  stroke  be- 
come apparent  in  conventional  MRI  images,  DW  MRI  can  spot  an 
ischemic  region  in  as  little  as  15  minutes  after  the  cessation  of 
blood  flow,  Sotak  says. 

The  increased  signal  intensity  observed  in  a  DW  MRI  image  is  a 
reflection  of  a  decrease  in  the  apparent  diffusion  coefficient,  or  ADC, 
of  water  in  the  ischemic  region.  The  change  in  ADC  is  most  likely 
related  to  the  disruption  of  high-energy  metabolism. 


10 


Summer  1993 


High-energy  metabolism  drives  the  so-called  "sodium  pump"  in 
the  membranes  of  cells.  This  pump  maintains  the  proper  balance 
between  the  concentration  of  sodium  inside  the  cell  and  in  the  extra- 
cellular spaces.  As  the  pump  fails  during  ischemia,  extracellular 
sodium  rushes  into  the  cell,  initiating  a  cascade  of  biochemical 
events  that  includes  the  accumulation  of  water  and  calcium  in  the 
cell,  cell  swelling  and,  ultimately,  cell  death. 

Many  therapeutic  strategies  for  stroke  involve  the  design  of 
drugs  that  attempt  to  retard  the  biochemical  mechanisms  that  lead 
to  cell  death.  These  include  the  release  of  toxins,  like  glutamate, 
from  damaged  cells.  Glutamate  latches  on  to  nerve  cell  membranes 
and  lets  calcium  flood  in,  killing  the  cells.  The  New  England  consor- 


Voyages! 


effectiveness  of  the  combination  of  diffusion-weighted  MRI  and  Cere- 
stat  in  diagnosing  and  treating  patients  who  show  symptoms  of  stroke. 

In  related  work,  Sotak  has  been  working  with  graduate  student 
Lawrence  L.  Latour  to  better  understand  the  mechanism  responsible 
for  the  decrease  in  the  apparent  diffusion  coefficient  during 
ischemia.  They  are  using  a  simple  model  system  that  consists  of 
closely  packed  red  blood  cells. 

To  simulate  the  biochemical  processes  that  occur  in  stroke-dam- 
aged cells,  Latour  and  Sotak  reduced  the  salt  concentration  in  the 
extracellular  spaces,  causing  water  to  rush  into  and  swell  the  cells. 
As  water  flowed  in,  the  volume  of  water  in  the  extracellular  spaces 
shrank.  This  caused  a  characteristic  change  in  the  diffusion  coef- 
ficient in  these  spaces,  a  change  that  was  readily  measurable 
with  the  laboratory's  magnetic  resonance  instrument. 

What  was  particularly  striking,  Sotak  notes,  is  that  the  diffu- 
sion coefficient  decreased  by  40  percent,  a  value  quite  similar  to 
the  magnitude  of  the  reduction  that  has  been  measured  in  brain 
tissue  damaged  by  stroke.  In  normal  brain  tissue,  water  is  dis- 
placed an  average  of  seven  to  eight  microns  every  40  milliseconds 
(the  measurement  time  in  the  MRI  experiment).  In  stroke-damaged 
brain  tissue,  the  average  displacement  is  reduced  to  about  five  mi- 
crons in  40  milliseconds.  "This  decrease  has 
been  observed  for  about  five  or  six  years," 
Sotak  says,  "but  there  hasn't  been  a  good  ex- 
planation for  why  it  happens." 

Some  theories  have  suggested  that,  when 
deprived  of  energy,  the  active  transport  mech- 
anism inside  brain  cells  shuts  down,  reducing 
the  movement  of  fluids  in  the  cell  and  lowering 
the  diffusion  coefficient.  Others  focus  on  the 
failure  of  the  sodium  pump  during  ischemia, 
which  lets  water  rush  into  and  swell  the  cells. 
"Our  work  indicates  that  it  is  really  the  shrink- 
ing extracellular  volume  that  is  behind  the 
characteristic  reduction  in  this  parameter," 
Sotak  says. 


C£T  '  \     ^ m .        Graduate  students 

\  \   *  Bernard  J.  Dardzinski 

and  Mary  Ferrera  work 
in  WPI's  Magnetic  Reso- 
nance Research  Center.  The  insert  shows  what  happens 
to  brain  cells  during  a  stroke.  As  energy  is  cut  off  to  a 
cell,  the  sodium  pump  in  its  membrane  fails.  Sodium 
rushes  in,  causing  the  cell  to  swell  with  water.  The 
damaged  cell  releases  toxins,  which  let  calcium  flood 
through  the  membrane,  killing  the  cell. 

tium  of  which  Sotak  and  his  team  are  members  is  studying  the  effec- 
tiveness of  a  drug  developed  by  Cambridge  Neuroscience  Inc. 
Known  as  Cerestat,  the  compound  blocks  channels  in  the  cell  mem- 
brane that  allow  calcium  to  flow  in  unchecked. 

"In  our  MRI  studies,  we've  seen  a  50  percent  reduction  in  the  size 
of  the  ischemic  region  as  a  result  of  this  treatment,"  Sotak  says. 
"Based  on  these  studies,  the  FDA  has  approved  the  drug  for  human 
clinical  trials."  The  trials,  which  began  in  the  spring,  will  study  the 


Shedding  New 
Light  on  Diabetes 


Mm 


s  the  1.4  million  Americans  who 
suffer  from  the  Type  I  form  of  the 
disease  well  know,  diabetes 
remains  a  disease  without  a  cure.  The  insulin  injections  diabetics 
take  several  times  a  day  to  regulate  their  blood  sugar  greatly  curtail 
the  damage  the  illness  can  do  to  the  heart,  blood  vessels,  eyes, 
nerves  and  kidneys.  They  can  be  reduced  still  further  with  more  ag- 
gressive monitoring  of  blood  sugar,  a  recently  concluded  study  by 
the  National  Institutes  of  Health  noted.  But  no  matter  how  carefully 
administered,  insulin  can't  eliminate  the  progressive  deterioration  of 
the  body  that  diabetes  causes. 

In  fact,  the  disease  remains  the  leading  cause  of  kidney  failure 
and  new  cases  of  blindness  in  those  over  65  and  is  the  nation's 
fourth  leading  cause  of  death.  Before  diabetes  can  be  cured,  scien- 
tists will  have  to  get  a  better  handle  on  its  root  causes. 

The  most  overt  symptom  of  diabetes  is  the  inability  of  the  body 
to  produce  insulin.  Manufactured  in  the  pancreas,  insulin  helps  the 
body  regulate  the  amount  of  glucose  circulating  through  the  blood- 
stream. When  there  is  too  much  glucose,  the  body  removes  the 


WPI  Journal 


11 


sugar  from  the  blood  and  stores  it  as  glycogen  in  the  liver  and 
muscles. 

A  great  deal  of  research  on  diabetes  has  focused  on  the  biochem- 
ical pathways  involved  in  the  storage  of  glucose.  Insulin's  role  in  this 
process  is  to  activate  an  enzyme  known  as  glycogen  synthase, 
which,  in  turn,  helps  link  individual  molecules  of  glucose  into  gly- 
cogen, notes  Jill  Rulfs,  assistant  professor  of  biology  and  biotechnol- 
ogy, who  became  interested  in  this  process  as  an  instructor  in  the 
Biochemistry  Department  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts 
Medical  Center. 


Jill  Rulfs  at  work  in  the  new  Fairlawn  Foundation 
Laboratory  at  WPI.  Rulfs  is  working  to  understand 
the  biochemistry  underlying  diabetes. 


At  UMass,  where  Rulfs  serves  today  as  an  adjunct  assistant  pro- 
fessor of  biochemistry  and  molecular  biology,  she  was  part  of  a  team 
studying  glycogen  synthase  and  attempting  to  clone  the  gene  for  this 
protein.  In  the  process,  the  team  became  interested  in  another  pro- 
tein that  plays  an  even  more  fundamental  role  in  glycogen  formation. 

"Glycogen  synthase  cannot  start  with  one  glucose  molecule  and 
build  from  there,"  she  says.  "It  needs  a  primer  of  six  or  seven  glu- 
cose molecules  already  strung  together.  Back  in  the  1970s,  people 
realized  that  there  had  to  be  another  protein  that  could  make  this 
primer.  That  protein  is  now  known  as  glycogenin." 

While  the  effect  of  diabetes  on  the  quantity  and  activity  of  glyco- 
gen synthase  has  been  extensively  studied,  she  says,  to  date  no  one 
has  looked  at  how  the  disease  affects  glycogenin.  With  a  three-year, 
$104,000  grant  from  the  National  Institutes  of  Health,  Rulfs  is  taking 
on  that  challenge.  Working  at  UMass  and  in  a  new  laboratory  at  WPI 
funded  by  the  Fairlawn  Foundation  in  Worcester,  she  is  studying 
glycogenin  in  the  liver  and  muscle. 

In  work  completed  so  far,  undergraduate  Nestor  Deocampo  '93, 
as  part  of  his  Major  Qualifying  Project,  found  the  protein  in  samples 


of  normal  liver  and  muscle  tissue  using  an  antibody  probe  devel- 
oped in  Rulfs'  lab.  "It  appears  that  there  is  more  of  the  protein  in  the 
liver,  although  the  forms  present  in  the  two  types  of  tissue  may  be 
significantly  different,"  Rulfs  says. 

The  next  step  will  be  to  determine  the  amino  acid  sequence  for 
each  type  of  protein  to  see  where  the  differences  lie.  This  may  pro- 
vide clues  as  to  whether  glycogen  synthesis  works  differently  in  the 
liver  and  muscle  and  whether  diabetes  has  different  effects  on  glyco- 
gen storage  in  these  organs. 

Then,  using  a  special  strain  of  rat  that  spontaneously  develops 
diabetes,  Rulfs  and  a  new  team  of 
undergraduates  will  see  whether  the 
disease  alters  the  amount  of  glycogenin 
produced  by  the  body  and  whether  the 
structure  of  the  protein  is  different  in  any 
way  in  the  diabetic  rats. 

"If  the  diabetic  rats  have  the  protein," 
she  says,  "we  want  to  see  if  there  is  a 
change  in  its  ability  to  attach  to  glucose 
and  build  the  primer  for  glycogen 
synthase."  It  may  turn  out,  she  notes,  that 
the  real  problem  in  diabetes  and  other 
glycogen-storage  diseases  lies  in  the 
creation  of  this  primer.  Or,  it  may  be  that 
the  same  mechanisms  that  affect  the  activ- 
ity of  glycogen  synthase  also  affect  glyco- 
genin. 

In  other  research,  Rulfs  has  been  look- 
ing at  the  molecular  changes  that  underlie 
the  damage  diabetes  can  do  to  the  heart. 
"Diabetic  hearts  are  hypersensitive  to 
adrenaline,"  she  says.  "For  example,  very 
low  levels  of  adrenaline  will  cause  heart 
cells  to  beat  faster.  We  want  to  understand 
the  molecular  basis  of  this  hypersensitivity. 
"Clearly,  there  is  some  information  that 
is  being  translated  from  the  cell  membrane 
into  the  cell  that  causes  this  reaction.  We 
want  to  elaborate  the  mechanism  by  which  this  happens.  What  is 
the  signal  from  outside  the  cell?  Is  it  insulin,  some  other  growth  fac- 
tor, or  another  compound?  How  does  it  get  into  the  cell,  and  once 
there,  how  is  its  message  transmitted." 

To  do  this  work,  Rulfs  uses  rat  heart  cells  that  are  cultured  in  the 
lab.  While  a  single  heart  can  be  used  to  create  multiple  cultures  that 
can  be  exposed  to  multiple  experimental  conditions,  each  new 
experiment  requires  the  sacrifice  of  a  new  animal,  Rulfs  says.  To 
avoid  this  requirement,  Rulfs  is  working  with  doctoral  candidate 
Caroline  E.  Miller  to  develop  an  immortal  adult  cardiac  cell  line. 

An  immortal  cell  line  is  made  up  of  cells  of  a  certain  tissue  that  will 
continue  to  grow  and  divide  indefinitely  in  culture  and  still  maintain  all 
the  original  characteristics  of  the  tissue.  It  provides  researchers  with  a 
virtually  unlimited  source  of  tissue  for  experimentation  without  the 
continual  need  for  sacrificing  animals,  Rulfs  says. 

Normally,  many  mammalian  cells,  like  heart  cells,  do  not  grow  or 
divide  once  they  are  removed  from  the  body.  To  jump-start  them, 
scientists  transform  the  cells  with  a  virus  that  inserts  a  gene  into  the 
cell's  chromosomes  that  overrides  built-in  checks  on  cell  growth; 
the  transformation  is  similar  to  the  genetic  changes  that  cause  can- 
cer cells  to  grow  and  divide  uncontrollably. 

To  date,  the  cell  line  established  by  Rulfs  and  Miller,  with 
support  from  the  American  Health  Assistance  Foundation,  has 


12 


Summer  1993 


undergone  20  passages.  Passaging  is  the  process  of  subdividing  a 
growing  cell  population  by  transfering  cells  from  one  culture  vessel 
to  several  others.  The  process  gives  the  cells  room  to  keep  growing. 
Miller  has  analyzed  the  first  12  of  these  "passages"  and  confirm- 
ed that  the  cells  continue  to  show  all  the  characteristics  of  adult 
heart  cells  and  still  seem  to  have  the  gene  for  unlimited  growth  in 
their  genome.  In  addition  to  its  value  in  her  own  research,  Rulfs  says 
the  cell  line  should  prove  useful  to  researchers  doing  many  other 
types  of  studies  on  the  physiology  and  pathology  of  the  heart. 

Putting  Living 
Tissue  in  the 
Deep  Freeze 

■•uring  the  20th  century,  medical 
■  ■researchers  have  developed  tech- 
m0  niques  that  use  tissue  from  human 
donors  to  treat  illnesses,  to  restore  nor- 
mal bodily  functions  and — in  many 
cases — to  save  lives.  While  procedures 
like  heart  and  liver  transplants  have 
grabbed  the  headlines,  millions  of  pa- 
tients have  regained  their  sight  after 
cornea  transplants,  burn  victims  have 
been  saved  with  skin  grafts,  infertile 
couples  have  had  children  thanks  to 
donated  sperm  and  eggs,  and  countless 
accident  victims,  surgery  patients 
and  hemophiliacs  owe  their  lives  to 
donated  blood. 

Living  cells  undergo 
steady  deterioration 
after  removal  from  the 
life-giving  systems  of 
the  body.  This  can  be 
slowed  by  refrigeration 
at  4°C  coupled  with 
nourishment  with  spe- 
cially designed  solu- 
tions. But  even  in  the 
best  of  circumstances, 
tissue  remains  viable 
for  only  a  few  weeks. 
The  goal  of  unlimited 
storage  with  no  loss  of 
function  has  been 
achieved  in  a  few  tis- 
sues by  freezing  them 

at  -196°C.  The  potential  exists  for  many  more  tissue  types  to  be  pre- 
served in  this  way. 

Cryopreservation,  as  the  freezing  of  living  tissue  is  known,  has 
proven  to  be  as  much  an  art  as  a  science,  notes  Douglas  B.  Walcerz, 
assistant  professor  of  mechanical  engineering.  "Most  of  the  tissue 
we  currently  preserve — blood,  skin,  embryos,  and  so  on — can  be 
frozen  and  thawed  pretty  reliably,"  he  says.  "But  each  time  we  begin 
looking  at  a  new  tissue  we  run  into  new  problems.  Tissues  are  so  di- 
verse and  cell  types  so  different  from  one  another,  that  there  is  no 
one  freezing  and  thawing  method  that  will  work  for  everything." 


Douglas  Walcerz  and  graduate 
student  Alison  Berube  prepare  to 
freeze  cells  in  a  cryogenic  micro- 
scope stage  Walcerz  designed  and 
built.  He  and  Berube  are  using  the 
stage  to  learn  how  best  to  freeze 
pancreas  islets  (insert),  the  source 
of  the  hormone  insulin. 


In  his  cryobiology  laboratory  at  WPI,  Walcerz  is  bringing  an  engi- 
neering perspective  to  what  has  largely  been  the  domain  of  medical 
researchers.  "In  the  past,  most  cryopreservation  methods  have  been 
developed  with  a  purely  experimental  approach,"  he  says.  "Tissue  is 
frozen  and  studied,  and  then  the  freezing  rate  or  conditions  are  var- 
ied and  the  process  repeated  until  the  best  method  is  discovered." 
Over  the  last  seven  years,  Walcerz  has  been  developing  a  ther- 
modynamic model  of  the  cryopreservation  process  that  can  be  used 
to  predict  how  fluids  and  chemicals  will  flow  across  the  cell  mem- 
branes in  the  target  tissues  and 
how  various  factors — such  as  ex- 
cessive dehydration  and  ice  for- 
mation— may  injure  or  destroy 
the  cells.  "Ice  formation  is  almost 
always  fatal,"  he  says,  "because 
the  rigid  crystalline  structure  of 
ice  will  grow  right  through  the 
cell  membrane." 

To  make  sure  the  model 
accurately  reflects  what 
happens  in  actual  tissue, 
Walcerz  spends  about  half  of  his 
time  freezing  and  thawing  tissue 
in  the  laboratory  and  studying 
how  its  properties  change.  For 
these  studies,  he  uses  a  special 
computer-controlled 
microscope  stage  he  developed 
while  completing  his  Ph.D. 
at  the  University  of  Texas  at 
Austin. 

The  patented  stage  enables  a 
scientist  to  continuously  view 
cells  as  they  are  prepared  for 
freezing  and  ultimately  frozen 
and  thawed.  The  cells  are  placed 
in  a  sealed  chamber  into  which 
janet  woodcock  various  solutions  and 
refrigerants — such  as  nitrogen  vapor — can  be  introduced  and 
removed.  A  video  camera  records  the  whole  process  for  later  study. 
Walcerz  says  the  stage  is  a  major  improvement  over  previously 
available  technology. 

"This  is  a  much  more  versatile  stage,"  he  says.  "With  previous 
stages,  you  could  adjust  the  freezing  conditions  or  the  chemical  en- 
vironment, but  not  both  simultaneously.  The  other  stages  also  had 
no  means  for  nucleating  ice — in  other  words,  for  starting  ice  forma- 
tion in  a  controlled  manner.  If  you  don't  do  that  and  let  the  ice  form 
spontaneously,  it  usually  appears  with  a  sudden  burst,  which  is 
quite  destructive." 

Walcerz  has  been  using  the  stage  to  study  the  freezing  and  thaw- 
ing of  pancreas  islets.  "The  islets  are  the  only  insulin-producing  tis- 
sue in  the  body,"  he  says.  "The  goal  of  a  number  of  research  teams  is 
to  be  able  to  transplant  islets  into  diabetic  patients — or  to  place 
them  in  artificial  pancreases — to  give  these  people  the  ability  to  pro- 
duce insulin. 

"There  are  about  one  million  islets  distributed  in  clusters 
throughout  the  human  pancreas.  Each  one  is  slightly  smaller  than  a 
grain  of  salt,  and  they  have  proven  quite  difficult  to  separate  from 
the  rest  of  the  tissue.  Because  the  separation  yields  are  so  poor,  it 
takes  four  or  five  donors  to  get  enough  islets  to  do  one  transplant. 
Since  all  of  the  islets  have  to  come  from  donors  whose  tissue  is  com- 


WPI  Journal 


13 


patible  with  the  recipient,  it  can  take  some  time  to  acquire  them  all. 
That's  why  there  is  a  great  need  to  be  able  to  freeze  islets." 

The  freezing  process  for  any  tissue  is  a  delicate  chemical  ballet, 
Walcerz  says.  It  involves  cooling  the  cells,  adding  chemicals  that  act 
as  antifreezes  and  then  quickly  lowering  the  temperature  of  the  cells 
with  refrigerants.  Because  most  antifreezes  are  toxic,  they  must  be 
added  in  just  the  right  quantities  and  when  the  cells  are  already 
cool,  since  their  toxicity  is  directly  related  to  temperature,  though 
not  too  cool,  since  the  permeability  of  the  cell  membranes  also  de- 
creases as  the  temperature  drops. 

Because  of  the  complexity  of  this  process  and  the  time-consum- 
ing nature  of  lab  work,  Walcerz  says  his  computer  model  can  help 
him  arrive  at  acceptable  solutions  far  faster  than  experimentation 
alone.  The  model  will  also  ultimately  reveal  far  more  about  the 
changes  that  take  place  in  the  islets  as  they  are  frozen  and  thawed 
and  how  to  avoid  the  damage  freezing  can  cause. 

"The  theoretical  basis  for  this  model  has  been  in  place  for  three 
decades,"  he  says.  "The  actual  writing  of  the  computer  code  has  not 
been  as  straightforward  as  one 
might  imagine.  There  are  a  lot  of 
parts  that  surprise  you  and 
explode  when  you  try  to  run 
them  on  the  computer." 

Walcerz  says  the  model  is  es- 
sentially complete.  He  is  now  de- 
veloping a  more  user-friendly  in- 
terface that  will  enable  scientists 
not  steeped  in  thermodynamic 
modeling  to  use  it  to  predict  the 
outcome  of  freezing  processes. 
He  is  also  beginning  to  apply  the 
model  to  other  tissues. 

He  is  currently  working  with 
corneas,  trying  to  discover  why 
corneal  cells  survive  freezing 
even  as  the  corneal  tissue  falls 
apart.  "This  is  proving  to  be  a 
very  difficult  tissue  to  preserve," 
he  says.  "It's  another  twist  in  an 
ever-surprising  field." 


them  from  the  bloodstream,  they  must  be  administered  in  rather 
large  quantities. 

"Urokinase  has  a  half-life  of  about  two  minutes,"  notes  David  S. 
Adams,  associate  professor  of  biology  and  biotechnology.  "The  body 
gets  rid  of  these  proteins  quickly  so  it  can  maintain  the  vital  ability 
to  form  clots.  But  that  means  that  when  you're  using  them  clinically, 
you  have  to  keep  adding  more  and  more  to  make  sure  you  dissolve 
the  clot  you're  after." 

With  support  from  the  National  Institutes  of  Health  and 
Transgenic  Sciences  Inc.  in  Worcester,  Adams  and  a  team  of 
students  that  included  Loree  Griffin  '91,  set  out  several  years  ago  to 
develop  a  second-generation  urokinase  that  would  be  equally  effec- 
tive in  busting  clots,  but  more  resistant  to  breakdown  by  the  body. 

The  first  step  in  the  process  was  to  determine  the  exact 
sequence  of  the  amino  acids  that  make  up  urokinase.  Having  accom- 
plished that,  Adams  began  studying  the  sequence  to  see  if  he  could 
identify  the  specific  amino  acids  that  form  the  active  sites  that  cre- 
ate the  chemical  bonds  that  link  urokinase  to  another  protein  called 


Urokinase  Clearance 


PAI  Mut-uPA 

•      o 


uPA 


uPA-Receptc 


In  the  sequence  above,  a  blood  clot  in  a  coronary  artery  is  eliminated  with  a  clot- 
dissolving  drug.  David  Adams  has  developed  a  longer-lasting  form  of  the  clot  dissolver 
urokinase.  Normally,  urokinase  (uPA  in  the  diagram  at  right)  binds  to  an  inhibitor  (PAI) 
and  then  to  a  receptor,  which  quickly  clears  it  from  the  blood.  The  new  form  of  uroki- 
nase (Mut-uPA)  does  not  bind  to  the  inhibitor. 


Engineering  a  Longer-Lasting 
Clot  Dissolver 

0n  a  hot  summer  evening,  the  doors  to  a  hospital  emergency 
room  swing  open  as  EMTs  wheel  in  a  middle-aged  man 
complaining  of  severe  chest  pains.  In  short  order,  the  patient 
is  hooked  up  to  an  intravenous  line  as  urokinase  is  fed  into  his 
bloodstream  to  dissolve  a  clot  blocking  the  flow  of  oxygen-rich  arter- 
ial blood  to  his  heart. 

Urokinase  is  one  of  a  class  of  drugs  called  clot  dissolvers.  Like 
TPA  (tissue  plasminogen  activator),  another  widely  used  clot  buster, 
it  is  a  protein  that  is  produced  naturally  by  the  body  to  break  up 
clots  that  form  constantly  as  a  result  of  normal  activities  like  sitting 
or  walking. 

The  clot  dissolvers  in  use  today  are  genetically  engineered  ver- 
sions manufactured  in  mammalian  cell  cultures.  While  they  have 
proven  to  be  lifesavers,  they  all  suffer  from  an  important  drawback: 
because  the  body  quickly  inactivates  these  compounds  and  clears 


an  inhibitor.  The  inhibitor  not  only  deactivates  the  clot  dissolver, 
but  makes  it  possible  for  white  blood  cells  to  absorb  and  destroy  it. 

"I  reasoned  that  if  I  could  determine  how  urokinase  binds  the  in- 
hibitor," Adams  says,  "1  could  make  a  change  in  the  gene  that  codes 
for  this  protein  that  would  not  only  prevent  the  inactivation  of  uroki- 
nase, but  slow  its  clearance  from  the  bloodstream." 

Adams  used  a  computer  to  compare  urokinase's  amino  acid  se- 
quence to  those  of  similar  proteins,  only  one  of  which — TPA — also 
binds  the  inhibitor.  Adams  found  a  segment  that  is  present  in  uroki- 
nase and  TPA,  but  which  does  not  occur  in  the  other  proteins.  He 
decided  that  this  might  well  be  the  binding  site. 

To  test  his  hypothesis,  Adams  first  cloned  the  gene  for  urokinase 
and  then  excised  that  part  of  the  genetic  sequence  that  codes  for 
this  site.  The  altered  gene  was  then  introduced  into  a  cell  culture, 
which  manufactured  the  new  version  of  the  protein.  The  final  stage 
was  isolating  and  testing  the  compound,  Adams  says. 

First,  the  new  urokinase  was  applied  to  blood  clots  to  confirm 
that  it  had  not  lost  its  ability  to  dissolve  them.  It  was  then  added  to 
test  tubes  containing  the  inhibitor  protein  to  confirm  that  it  does  not 
bind  to  it.  Other  tests  demonstrated  that  the  new  urokinase  remains 
active  in  blood  far  longer  than  the  natural  or  wild  form. 


14 


Summer  1993 


"The  next  step  will  be  to  conduct  animal  tests  to  measure  the 
half-life  of  the  protein  in  the  bloodstream,"  he  says.  "We're  predict- 
ing that  the  half-life  will  be  around  45  minutes.  This  means  that  it 
should  be  possible  to  get  the  same  clot  dissolving  effect  using  10 
times  less  drug."  Adams  says  there  are  other  potential  modifications 
to  the  urokinase  molecule  that  might  increase  its  activity  or 
longevity.  These  may  become  future  projects  for  WP1  students. 

Currently,  Adams  is  applying  the  techniques  he  used  in  the  study 
of  urokinase  to  compounds  known  as  neurotrophic  agents.  "We  all 
have  neurotrophic  agents  in  our  brains,"  he  says.  "They're  capable 
of  causing  neurons  to  grow  toward  them  and  can  alter  the  firing  ca- 
pability of  neurons.  Their  ability  to  stimulate  brain  cell  growth  is 
something  that  was  once  thought  impossible." 

Adams  says  the  first  neurotrophic  factor,  ependymin,  was 
discovered  in  goldfish  more  than  two  decades  ago  by  Victor 
Sashoua,  a  researcher  at  Harvard.  Adams  is  currently  conducting  re- 
search on  neurotrophic  agents  with  funding  from  Neuromedica  Inc., 
a  company  founded  by  Sashoua. 

Ependymin  appears  to  consolidate 
memories  by  depositing  itself  around 
new  neural  connections  that  form  as 
memories  are  created  in  the  brain,  mak- 
ing those  connections — and  the  memo- 
ries— permanent.  Ependymin  formed  to 
consolidate  a  particular  memory  seems 
to  be  able  to  transfer  that  memory  to  an- 
other brain  by  forming  and  hard-wiring 
similar  neural  connections  there. 

Sashoua  discovered  this  property  by 
first  training  goldfish  to  swim  upside 
down.  He  then  recovered  ependymin 
from  the  brains  of  those  fish  and  injected 
it  into  untrained  goldfish,  which  learned 
the  task  much  faster  than  the  original 
group  of  fish. 

In  his  lab,  Adams  has  cloned  the  gene 
for  goldfish  ependymin.  Using  a  portion 
of  the  gene  as  a  probe,  he  and  a  team  of 
students  are  employing  a  technique 
called  the  polymerase  chain  reaction 
(PCR)  to  scan  the  genomes  of  other 
species  for  similar  genes.  So  far,  they 
have  found  such  genes  in  species  rang- 
ing from  horseshoe  crabs  to  monkeys. 

In  related  work,  undergraduates  Amy 
D.  Brideau  '92  and  Christina  G.  Corria  '92 
cloned  the  gene  for  amyloid,  the  predomi- 
nant protein  in  a  substance  called  plaque 
that  forms  in  the  brains  of  Alzheimer's 
disease  sufferers.  They  then  created  mu- 
tations in  the  gene  that  mimic  ihose  seen 
in  people  who  develop  a  form  of  Alzhei- 
mer's that  appears  relatively  early  in  life. 

The  gene  the  students  developed  has  been  used  by  TSI  Corp.  to 
create  a  strain  of  transgenic  mice  that  will,  Adams  hopes,  develop 
the  symptoms  of  early-onset  Alzheimer's.  "TSI  wants  to  see  how 
these  mice  react  to  drugs  that  may  prevent  Alzheimer's,"  he  says. 
"There  is  currently  no  reliable  animal  model  to  use  in  such  tests.  In 
addition,  if  the  animals  get  Alzheimer's,  it  will  add  weight  to  the  the- 
ory that  the  plaque  causes  the  symptoms  of  the  disease,  which  is  by 
no  means  clear  now." 


Expanding  the  Boundaries  of 
Medical  Ultrasound 


s 


I  ince  it  first  appeared  in  hospitals  in  the  1970s,  medical  ultra- 
sound has  become  an  essential  diagnostic  tool  that  enables 
doctors  to  noninvasively  probe  the  body,  capturing  images  of 
everything  from  an  unborn  fetus  to  a  developing  tumor  to  a  malfunc- 
tioning heart  valve. 

But  while  ultrasound  technology  has  advanced  significantly  over 
the  past  two  decades,  a  considerable  amount  of  work  remains  to  be 
done  to  expand  its  capabilities.  Some  of  that  work  is  under  way  in  the 
laboratory  of  Peder  C.  Pedersen,  professor  of  electrical  and  computer 
engineering  at  WPI. 

Much  like  sonar  devices,  ultrasound  scanners  work  by  using  a 
transducer  to  direct  high-frequency  sound  waves  into  the  body  and 
then  analyzing  the  sound  energy  as  it  is  reflected  back  to  the  trans- 


From  left,  graduate  students  Brita 
Sorli  and  Javier  Berrios  and  Professor 
Peder  Pedersen  work  in  Pedersen's 
laboratory,  where  the  three  are  devel- 
oping ways  to  expand  the  capabilities 
of  medical  ultrasound. 


ducer.  The  amount  of  energy  returned  and  the 
arrival  time  of  the  echo  provide  information 
about  the  nature  of  the  reflecting  tissue  and  its 
distance  from  the  transducer. 

Some  scanners  process  the  received  echoes 
to  extract  slight  frequency  changes — called 
Doppler  shifts — that  enable  the  scanner  to  image  the  movement  of 
blood  through  heart  valves  and  blood  vessels.  Because  moving 
blood  cells  reflect  only  a  minute  amount  of  sound,  Doppler 
ultrasound  devices  send  out  short  but  fairly  intense  sound  pulses. 
With  funding  from  the  National  Science  Foundation,  Pedersen 
has  been  working  to  develop  a  new  type  of  Doppler  ultrasound  tech- 
nique that  avoids  exposing  the  body  to  powerful  sound  pulses. 
(While  no  deleterious  effects  of  such  powerful  ultrasound  pulses 


WPI  Journal 


15 


FM 
Excitation 


have  been  documented,  that  possibility  is  nonetheless  a  concern  to 
researchers,  Pedersen  says.) 

Pedersen's  system  sends  out  sound  energy  in  the  form  of  a  long, 
gliding  tone,  rather  than  a  brief  pulse.  "While  the  total  amount  of  en- 
ergy delivered  may  be  equal  to  or  higher  than  that  emitted  by  pulse 
Doppler  systems,  it  is  sent  out  over  a  much  longer  time  interval,"  he 
notes.  As  a  result,  the  ultrasound  signal  impinging  on  tissue  is  of  a 
much  lower  intensity  than  that  of  a  conventional  pulse  Doppler  sys- 
tem, even  though  the  new  Doppler  system  has  the  same  capabilities 
for  imaging  blood  flow. 

Much  work  is  still  needed  to  assess  the  clinical  usefulness  of 
the  new  system,  Pedersen  says.  Toward  that  end,  graduate  student 
Brita  J.  Sorli,  in  work  that  culminated  in  her  master's  thesis  this 
past  spring,  developed  and  tested  new  signal  processing  methods 
that  promise  to  make  the  new  Doppler  system  faster  and  more 
accurate. 

In  other  research,  Pedersen  and 
postdoctoral  student  Javier  C.  Berrios 
are  developing  a  new  method  for 
using  ultrasound  to  detect  blood  ves- 
sel pathologies,  such  as  blood  clots  in 
veins.  Currently,  to  locate  clots  doc- 
tors commonly  use  such  invasive 
methods  as  venography,  in  which  a 
contrast  agent  is  injected  into  the 
vein  and  blood  flow  is  monitored  with 
X-rays.  While  Doppler  ultrasound  can 
be  used  to  search  for  clots,  it  is  lim- 
ited because  of  the  difficulty  in  distin- 
guishing between  the  slowly  moving 
blood  in  open  veins  and  the  station- 
ary blood  in  blocked  veins. 

The  technique  Pedersen  and 
Berrios  are  exploring  is  a  refinement 
of  a  trick  ultrasound  sonographers 
sometimes  employ  as  they  look  for 
clots.  Knowing  that  the  highly  flexible 

walls  of  veins  will  collapse  under  even  gentle  pressure,  the  techni- 
cians press  the  transducer  against  the  leg  or  arm  to  see  whether  a 
suspect  vein  appears  to  close  up.  If  it  doesn't,  presumably  an  unseen 
clot  is  keeping  it  open. 

"But  it  takes  a  great  deal  of  skill  to  do  this,"  Pedersen  says.  "We 
wondered  whether  we  could  automate  it.  We  came  up  with  a  method 
that  uses  a  small  plate  to  apply  soft  vibrations  of  different  frequen- 
cies to  the  skin  while  a  sensitive  ultrasound  technique  detects  the 
induced  changes  in  the  diameter  of  the  blood  vessel  with  an  accu- 
racy of  five  microns." 

While  initially  designed  to  detect  deep-vein  thromboses,  the  sys- 
tem is  also  able  to  gather  information  about  the  properties  (such  as 
stiffness)  of  blood  vessel  walls — information  that  might  be  useful  in 
diagnosing  other  vascular  diseases,  such  as  aneurisms  and  athero- 
sclerosis, a  condition  characterized  by  fatty  deposits  on  the  inside  of 
arteries.  "In  tests  with  simulated  blood  vessels  in  the  lab,  we  have 
demonstrated  that  the  system  can  map  out  and  display  an  image  of 
a  vessel  with  reduced  diameter,  with  increased  stiffness,  or  contain- 
ing a  partial  blockage,"  Pedersen  says. 

It  is  well-known  that  tumor  tissue  is  generally  harder  than  normal 
tissue  (this  is  the  basis  for  finding  tumors  with  palpation).  For  this 
reason,  tumors  deform  and  move  differently  than  other  tissues  in  re- 
sponse to  external  stimuli  like  vibrations,  Pedersen  says.  By  using 
this  technique  to  ultrasonically  measure  tissue  movement  in 


response  to  applied  vibrations,  it  may  be  easier  to  detect 
certain  types  of  tumors  with  ultrasound. 

In  related  work,  Pedersen  and  Berrios  are  conducting 
experiments  with  blood  vessel  models  to  test  a  corres- 
ponding mathematical  model  being  developed  by  Dalin 
Tang,  assistant  professor  of  mathematical  sciences.  The 
model  allows  the  researchers  to  explore  whether  abnor- 
malities in  any  major  blood  vessel — such  as  a  clot  or  arte- 
rial plaque — will  cause  characteristic  changes  in  the 
shape  of  the  pulse.  By  simulating  pulsatile  blood  flow, 
Pedersen  and  Berrios  are  using  ultrasound  to  measure 
how  the  pulse  is  transmitted  along  a  blood  vessel  and 
how  the  vessel  changes  in  response  to  the  pulse. 

Despite  the  success  of  ultrasound  in  medical  diagno- 
sis, a  great  deal  is  yet  to  be  learned  about  how  the  sound 


Blood 
Vessel 


Above,  the  new  Doppler  ultrasound  system 
being  developed  by  Peder  Pedersen  and  grad- 
uate researchers.  The  transducer  sends  out 
sound  in  the  form  of  a  gliding  tone.  The  sound 
is  reflected  from  moving  blood  cells  and  re- 
turned to  the  transducer.  A  computer  uses  the 
frequency  changes  in  the  reflected  sound  to 
produce  an  image  of  the  moving  blood.  Oppo- 
site, Ronald  Cheetham  and  Pamela  Weathers 
examine  some  of  the  many  clones  of  geneti- 
cally transformed  Artemisia  annua  plants  they 
have  created  in  the  laboratory.  Artemisia  pro- 
duces an  antimalarial  compound  Cheetham 
and  Weathers  hope  to  extract  without  harming 
the  plants. 


pulses  emitted  by  ultrasound  transducers  are  affected  as  they  travel 
through  specific  types  of  tissue.  "The  ultrasound  signal  is  affected  by 
everything  it  encounters  as  it  travels  through  the  body,"  he  explains. 
"Each  tissue  layer  blurs  or  distorts  the  wave  front.  The  shape  and 
orientation  of  a  tissue  layer  and  its  roughness  have  a  dramatic  effect 
on  the  energy  that  ultimately  returns  to  the  transducer." 

In  work  he  began  at  Drexel  University,  Pedersen  is  trying  to  un- 
ravel these  geometric  effects.  Donald  P.  Orofino,  in  his  doctoral 
research,  was  able  to  show  that  it  is  possible  to  mathematically 
predict  the  effect  of  the  orientation  of  a  smooth  reflective  surface, 


16 


Summer  1993 


Turning  Plants  Into 

Pharmaceutical 

Factories 


M 


whether  a  large  layer  or  a  small  tile.  "This  was  a  terrific  piece  of 
work,"  Pedersen  says.  "But  it  was  just  a  first  step  toward  under- 
standing all  of  the  mechanisms  that  affect  an  ultrasound  signal." 

Pedersen  says  he  hopes  to  apply  these  results  to  the  measurement 
of  the  acoustic  properties  of  blood  vessels,  a  more  complicated  prob- 
lem because  of  the  way  sound  backscatters  off  of  the  curved  surfaces 
of  the  vessels.  The  next  major  step  will  be  to  look  at  how  the  rough- 
ness of  a  tissue  or  organ  affects  the  received  signal.  Pedersen  says  he 
hopes  to  learn  more  about  rough  surface  scattering  during  a  sabbati- 
cal at  the  Technical  University  of  Denmark  that  begins  this  fall. 


ore  than  150  years  ago,  two  French  chemists  iso- 
lated a  bitter  white  powder  from  the  bark  of  the 
Cinchona  tree.  Peruvian  Incas  had  long  used  an 
extract  of  the  bark  to  treat  fever,  and  as  early  as  the  early 
1600s  Jesuit  missionaries  had  discovered  that  the  extract 
could  also  cure  malaria.  The  substance  the  French  chem- 
ists derived  from  the  bark  proved  to  be  the  source  of  the 
bark's  curative  powers.  They  named  it  quinine,  after  quina- 
quina,  the  Incas'  name  for  the  tree. 

Quinine  quickly  became  the  treatment  of  choice  for 
preventing  and  curing  malaria.  In  time,  this  alkaloid  was 
joined  by  a  host  of  synthetic  antimalarials,  created  when 
tf|     wars  cut  nations  off  from  their  supply  of  quinine  or  when 
I     the  parasites  that  cause  malaria  developed  resistance  to 
I     quinine  and  other  malaria  drugs. 

While  the  use  of  these  antimalarials  has  reduced  dra- 
matically the  percentage  of  the  world  population  that  suf- 
fers from  this  deadly  disease,  it  still  affects  some  200  to 
300  million  people  annually,  mostly  in  tropical,  newly  de- 

Jveloping  nations,  and  remains  one  of  the  world's  biggest 
killers.  Today  the  search  for  new  antimalarials  continues. 
One  promising  target  is  artemisinin,  a  compound  derived 
from  the  bitter  Chinese  herb  Artemisia  annua,  also  called 
sweet  wormwood. 

For  more  than  20  years,  Chinese  scientists  have  known 
that  artemisinin  is  a  potent  antimalarial  with  few  of  the 
side  effects  associated  with  other  malaria  treatments. 
Currently,  the  only  way  to  obtain  this  compound  is  to 
grow  Artemisia  annua,  harvest  it  and  then  chemically  ex- 
tract artemisinin  from  the  roots  and  stems,  an  expensive 
and  wasteful  process. 

With  a  three-year,  $99,000  grant  from  the  National 
Institutes  of  Health,  Pamela  Weathers,  associate  professor 
of  biology  and  biotechnology,  and  Ronald  D.  Cheetham, 
professor  of  biology  and  biotechnology,  are  developing  a 
way  of  extracting  artemisinin  from  living  plants.  The 
method  turns  the  plants  into  continuously  producing 
artemisinin  factories. 

The  technique  involves  genetically  transforming 
Artemisia  with  a  bacteria  that  causes  fast-growing  "hairy 
roots"  to  emerge  from  the  plant's  own  roots.  These  trans- 
s  formed  roots  are  then  grown  in  culture  and  various 
.  i  §  agents  are  used  to  induce  environmental  and  chemical 
I  stresses  that  tax  the  plant  and  cause  the  roots  to  release 
saBfe  a  their  artemisinin  into  the  culture  media,  where  it  can  be 
recovered  and  purified. 

In  earlier  work  with  beets  and  safflower  plants,  Weathers  and 
Cheetham  showed  that  this  release  technique  works  and  leaves  the 
plants  unharmed.  They  have  received  a  United  States  patent  on  the 
process  and  a  second  U.S.  patent  and  several  international  patents 
are  pending. 

So  far,  the  researchers,  working  with  research  scientist  Alex 
Dilorio  and  a  team  of  graduate  and  undergraduate  students,  have 
generated  a  number  of  transformed  clones  of  Artemisia  and  are  eval- 
uating them  to  see  which  grow  best  in  culture,  which  produce  the 


WPI  Journal 


17 


greatest  quantities  of  artemisinin,  and  which  techniques  are  most 
successful  in  causing  the  transformed  roots  to  give  up  the  chemical. 
"The  most  important  factors  in  this  research  are  growth  rates  and 
yields,"  Cheetham  says.  "If  they're  not  high  enough,  you're  fighting  a 
losing  battle." 

If  artemisinin  is  to  be  successful  as  a  malaria  fighter,  the 
researchers  note,  it  will  have  to  be  inexpensive  enough  to  be  afford- 
able to  residents  of  the  Third  World.  That  will  mean  finding  a  way  to 
grow  the  Artemisia  cultures  on  a  large  scale.  For  that,  Weathers  and 
Cheetham  plan  to  turn  to  aeroponics,  a  method  of  growing  plants 
without  soil.  In  an  aeroponic  system,  a  fine  mist  is  used  to  continu- 
ously coat  the  roots  with  a  nutrient-rich  film.  In  the  research  with 
beets  and  safflower,  it  was  found  that  the  plants  grew  equally  well  in 
a  nutrient  mist  system  and  in  nutrient-filled  flasks,  the  method  nor- 
mally used  for  plant  tissue  culture. 

The  advantage  of  the  aeroponic  system  is  that  it  may  be  easier  to 
scale  up  than  other  culture  methods,  Weathers  says,  although  the 
scale-up  process  will  still  likely  be  fraught  with  challenges.  "It  looks 
like  a  simple  technology,"  she  says,  "but  it's  quite  complex  from  a 
fluids  standpoint.  The  challenge  is  getting  an  even  distribution  of  nu- 
trients to  a  packed  bed  of  roots." 

Toward  that  end,  Weathers  and  Cheetham  are  working  with 
Douglas  B.  Walcerz,  assistant  professor  of  mechanical  engineering, 
to  develop  a  fluid  dynamics  model  of  a  proposed  aeroponic  system 
to  better  understand  what  might  happen  as  the  technology  is 
increased  in  scale.  They  are  also  collaborating  with  researchers  at 
Cornell  University  and  with  a  New  York  State  plant  grower  on  a 
space-  and  water-saving  A-frame  system  that  could  be  used  for  the 
large-scale  aeroponic  production  of  Artemisia  and  a  host  of  other 
valuable  plants. 

The  ability  to  culture  Artemisia  inexpensively  may  have  medical 
benefits  beyond  treating  malaria,  Weathers  says.  In  research  over 
the  past  decade,  other  compounds  produced  by  the  plant  have 
shown  promise  as  treatments  for  diseases  as  diverse  as  Pneumo- 
cystis carinii,  a  prime  killer  of  people  infected  with  AIDS,  and  schisto- 
somaisis,  a  severe  infection  caused  by  a  parasitic  flatworm. 

At  the  same  time,  Weathers  and  Cheetham  are  looking  to  expand 
their  culture  and  extraction  techniques  to  other  plants  that  produce 
valuable  chemicals.  These  include  Euphorbia  lathyrus,  a  member  of 
the  spurge  family  that  makes  a  compound  that  may  repel  rats,  and 
the  various  species  of  Taxus  or  yews,  which  manufacture  a  variety  of 
chemicals  with  medical  applications,  including  taxol,  a  proven  can- 
cer fighter. 

Currently,  taxol  is  obtained  by  harvesting  Taxus  and  extracting 
the  chemical  from  the  bark  and  needles.  It  takes  20,000  pounds  of 
bark  to  make  a  half  pound  of  taxol.  To  make  the  compound  more  af- 
fordable— and  more  readily  available — scientists  are  trying  to  find 
more  economical  and  efficient  ways  to  grow  Taxus  and  extract  taxol 
and  related  compounds. 

In  work  done  so  far  in  the  lab  of  Weathers  and  Cheetham,  Taxus 
plantlets  have  been  grown  aeroponically  to  study  how  the  roots 
grow  in  a  nutrient  mist.  In  addition  to  developing  a  way  of  extracting 
taxol  from  roots,  the  research  may  demonstrate  how  whole  plants 
can  be  grown  more  efficiently  in  the  field.  In  fact,  Weathers  and 
Cheetham  are  using  the  expertise  they've  gained  so  far  to  help 
researchers  at  Pennsylvania  State  University,  including  Laura  J. 
Wagner  '90,  improve  the  rooting  of  a  type  of  fast-maturing  Taxus 
plant  they  have  developed. 

"With  Taxus,  there  are  a  lot  of  unknowns,"  Cheetham  says. 
"Different  species  of  the  plant  may  produce  different  products  in  dif- 
ferent amounts.  Products  produced  in  Taxus  roots  may  be  different 


than  those  produced  in  the  bark  and  needles.  Things  that  work  in 
the  lab,  may  not  work  at  larger  scales.  So  while  we  have  been  seeing 
small  success  stories  here  and  there,  they  may  or  may  not  be  the 
routes  that  lead  to  commercial  production." 

New  Catheter  Will  Find  and 
Treat  Cardiac  Arrhythmias 

Jl  It  iHions  of  Americans  suffer  from  cardiac  arrhythmia,  a  con- 

■  l/jf    dition  characterized  by  irregular  and  often  inefficient  heart 

■  W m    pumping.  Each  year,  more  than  half  a  million  people  die 
from  the  condition  when  the  arrhythmia  causes  the  heart  to  begin 
beating  spasmodically,  a  state  known  as  fibrillation. 

In  a  normal  heart,  a  small  mass  of  tissue  in  the  right  atrium  called 
the  pacemaker  sends  out  regular 
electrical  pulses  that  synchro- 
nize the  contraction  of  the  heart 
muscle,  producing  a  regular,  co- 
ordinated beat.  But  in  arrhyth- 
mia, a  second  point  in  either  the 
right  or  left  ventricle  begins  gen- 
erating its  own  pacemaker  sig- 
nal, which  causes  the  efficiency 
and  output  of  the  heart  to  drop; 
in  severe  cases,  the  result  can  be 
fibrillation. 

Current  medical  procedures 
for  detecting  and  treating 
arrhythmias  are  expensive  and 
highly  invasive,  notes  Robert  A. 
Peura,  professor  and  head  of  the 
Biomedical  Engineering  Depart- 
ment. A  commonly  used  tech- 
nique involves  opening  the  heart, 
searching  out  the  source  of  the 
aberrant  pacemaker  signal  with 
an  electrical  probe,  and  then  de- 
stroying it  surgically. 

With  a  three-year,  $115,000 
grant  from  the  National  Insti- 
tutes of  Health,  Peura  and 
Stevan  Kun,  a  research  associate  g 
in  the  Biomedical  Engineering      § 
Department,  are  developing  a      |  js| 
new  technology  that  will  enable 
physicians  to  locate  arrhythmogenic  foci  and  remove  them  in  a  mini- 
mally invasive  manner.  The  technique  will  employ  a  catheter  that, 
when  introduced  into  the  right  or  left  ventricle  through  an  artery  or 
vein,  will  generate  a  map  of  the  electrical  potentials  of  the  inside  of 
the  chamber.  An  arrhythmogenic  focus  will  show  up  as  a  disruption 
in  this  potential  map. 

Called  the  Intraventricular  Impedance  Imaging  Catheter,  the  de- 
vice includes  eight  columns  of  electrodes  arranged  on  the  surface  of 
a  small  balloon  catheter  that  is  inflated  once  the  probe  enters  the 
heart  cavity.  Each  column  has  seven  electrodes.  Two  of  them  gener- 
ate a  low-magnitude  electric  field  of  a  high  enough  frequency  so  as 
not  to  stimulate  the  heart.  The  others  are  used  to  measure  the  elec- 
trical potential  inside  the  heart.  The  measured  potentials  are  used  to 
determine  the  position  of  the  probe. 


18 


Summer  1993 


"We  want  to  be  able  to  precisely  locate  the  arrhythmogenic  foci," 
Peura  says.  "This  is  complicated  by  the  fact  that  the  probe  moves  as 
the  heart  beats.  To  overcome  this  difficulty,  we  must  continuously 
measure  the  position  of  the  catheter  with  respect  to  the  walls  of  the 
heart." 

To  make  this  measurement,  Peura's  team  is  turning  to  a  tech- 
nique known  as  impedance  imaging.  Impedance  is  the  measure  of 
the  apparent  resistance  to  the  flow  of  alternating  current.  Since 
blood  is  far  less  electrically  resistive  than  heart  muscle,  the  bound- 
ary between  blood  and  muscle  in  the  heart  creates  a  discernible 
change  in  impedance. 

Robert  Peura,  left,  and  research  associate  Stevan  Kun 
use  a  model  to  demonstrate  how  a  catheter  they  are 
developing  will  be  inserted  into  a  ventricle  in  the  heart. 
The  cathode  will  use  impedance  to  accurately  locate 
tissue  in  the  ventricle  responsible  for  arrhythmias. 


By  sending  out  a  current  and  then  measuring  this  characteristic 
change,  the  probe  generates  data  that  can  be  used  to  produce  a  con- 
tinuous three-dimensional  geometric  approximation  of  the  heart 
ventricle.  Using  this  image,  it  should  be  possible  to  accurately  guide 
the  probe  to  the  spot  on  the  ventricle  wall  responsible  for  the 
second  pacemaker  signal  and  then  to  use  a  device  attached  to  the 
catheter  to  destroy  it. 

In  addition  to  providing  a  means  to  detect  and  treat  arrhythmias, 
the  catheter  will  provide  valuable  information  about  the  state  of  the 
heart  that  currently  can  be  obtained  in  no  other  way,  Peura  says.  For 
example,  a  three-dimensional  geometric  approximation  of  the  heart 
can  be  used  to  calculate  the  heart's  volume.  Adding  a  pressure 
transducer  to  the  catheter  will  permit  the  generation  of  a  pressure/ 
volume  curve,  which  can  provide  clues  about  the  condition  of  the 


heart  muscle.  It  can  also  be  used  to  calculate  cardiac  output  and 
measure  the  efficiency  of  the  heart. 

"Some  of  these  measurements  can  be  made — with  limited  accu- 
racy— using  existing  techniques  like  echocardiography,  angiography 
and  radioisotope  imaging,"  Kun  says.  "But  none  of  these  techno- 
logies provides  continuous,  real-time  data.  And  no  technique  can 
reliably  measure  the  heart's  volume  in  real  time.  Our  probe  will  pro- 
vide an  invaluable  source  of  data  for  clinical  diagnosis  and  can  also 
be  used  in  research  on  human  and  animal  hearts." 

Peura  says  laboratory  experiments  with  a  prototype  of  the 
catheter  and  a  simulated  ventricle  have  demonstrated  that  the  basic 
concepts  employed  in  the  device  do  work.  Currently,  a  team  of  grad- 
uate students  is  at  work  further  developing  the  mathematical  mod- 
els of  the  relationship  between  the  electric  field  generated  by  the 
probe  and  the  conductive  properties  of  blood,  muscle  and  heart  tis- 
sue. Another  student  is  using  such  sophisticated  computing  tools 
as  neural  networks  to  better  understand  how  to  use  the  impedance 
measurements  to  approximate  the  shape  of  the  heart. 

Horseshoe  Crab  Focus  of 
Medically  Related  Discoveries 

For  more  than  a  decade,  the  blood  of  the  horseshoe  crab  has 
provided  the  key  ingredient  for  a  standard  test  of  bacterial 
contamination  in  injectable  drugs.  The  chemical,  known  as 
Limulus  Amebocyte  Lysate  or  LAL,  becomes  a  thick,  milky  gel  in  the 
presence  of  gram-negative  bacteria — a  class  of  microorganisms  re- 
sponsible for  many  human  diseases. 

To  get  an  adequate  supply  of  LAL,  horseshoe  crabs,  mostly 
larger  females,  are  captured  and  bled  once  a  year  when  they  come 
inshore  on  the  New  England  coast  to  mate  and  feed.  While  the  pro- 
cedure kills  fewer  than  1  percent  of  animals  that  are  bled  carefully, 
more  are  probably  lost  in  large  commercial  operations  and  some 
scientists  worry  that  the  bleeding  process  may  diminish  the  crabs' 
reproductive  success. 

In  addition,  the  sensitivity  of  LAL  produced  by  different  manufac- 
turers— and  often  within  different  lots  made  by  the  same  manufac- 
turer— can  vary  significantly.  This  is  probably  due  to  differences  be- 
tween crabs  and  to  seasonal  and  environmental  factors  that  affect 
blood  cell  production  within  crabs. 

Daniel  G.  Gibson  111,  assistant  professor  of  biology  and  biotech- 
nology, has  spent  the  past  several  years  developing  a  technique  for 
culturing  the  cells  that  manufacture  the  horseshoe  crab's  blood.  The 
procedure  would  eliminate  the  need  for  the  yearly  bleeding  of  crabs, 
assure  a  more  uniform  supply  of  lysate,  and  prepare  for  the  day 
when  a  natural  calamity  might  well  decimate  the  horseshoe  crab 
population. 

The  first  and  most  challenging  step  in  this  process  was  discover- 
ing just  where  the  crab  keeps  its  blood-producing  cells.  Gibson 
found  a  clue  to  their  location  in  a  12-year-old  report  that  described 
the  presence  of  significant  numbers  of  blood  cells  in  the  flaps  of  the 
crab's  gill.  Since  the  horseshoe  crab  does  not  use  its  blood  cells  to 
carry  oxygen,  Gibson  wondered  why  they  would  congregate  there. 

Under  low  magnification  the  interior  of  the  gill  flaps  appears 
wrinkled.  Upon  closer  observation,  the  wrinkles  turn  out  to  be  a  net- 
work of  pods.  It  is  in  and  around  these  pods,  Gibson  suspected,  that 
the  blood  cells  are  created.  To  test  this  hypothesis,  he  removed  the 
flaps  and  treated  them  with  a  disinfectant  that  caused  the  blood 
cells  to  rupture.  Within  a  week  new  cells  reappeared,  clustered 


WPI  Journal 


19 


around  the  pods.  In  another  week,  the  cells  broke  free  and  dis- 
persed. Their  source  had  been  found. 

The  next  step  was  finding  a  way  to  culture  the  pods  and  recover 
the  blood  cells.  Master's  degree  student  Joan  Hilly  paved  the  way 
for  this  breakthrough  with  her  discovery  that  the  gill  flaps  can  be 
opened  with  a  fine  glass  needle.  The  opened  flaps  can  then  be  cul- 
tured in  blood  serum.  As  they  mature,  the  amebocytes  are  tested  for 
their  reactivity  to  endotoxin.  The  goal  of  the  project  is  to  harvest  the 
cells  and  extract  the  LAL,  just  as  it  would  be  extracted  from  blood 
drawn  from  whole  crabs. 

In  1992,  Gibson  and  Hilly  received  a  U.S.  patent  for  the  entire 
process  of  preparing  and  culturing  the  gill  flaps  for  the  purpose  of 


recovering  the  LAL.  Gibson  says  he  envisions  a  time  when  colonies 
of  horseshoe  crabs  might  be  kept  in  captivity.  By  regularly  harvest- 
ing small  portions  of  their  gill  flaps  (adults  have  about  1,000  flaps,  a 
few  hundred  of  which  can  be  spared),  the  crabs  could  continue  to 
produce  a  regular  supply  of  LAL  for  many  years. 

Ideally,  Gibson  says,  he  would  like  to  find  a  way  to  make  the  gill 
flap  cultures  immortal,  so  once  started  they  would  produce  ame- 


bocytes continuously,  entirely  eliminating  the  need  for  the  crabs. 
Currently,  the  flaps  remain  productive  for  only  a  few  weeks,  but  gradu- 
ate student  Jill  A.  Friberg  is  working  to  transform  the  amebocyte-pro- 
ducing  cells  with  a  virus  that  may  override  the  natural  control  mecha- 
nism in  the  cells'  DNA  that  prevents  unrestrained  cell  growth. 

In  other  work,  Gibson  and  Friberg  are  investigating  ways  to  stim- 
ulate the  gills  to  produce  greater  quantities  of  amebocytes.  Summer 
research  they  did  at  the  Marine  Biological  Laboratory  with  Jack 
Levin  suggested  that  extracting  blood  from  crabs  has  that  effect. 
Levin  is  a  hematologist  at  the  University  of  California  at  San  Fran- 
cisco and  the  co-discoverer  of  the  reaction  between  LAL  and  bacter- 
ial endotoxins.  Injecting  crabs  with  a  hormone  that  triggers  molting 
may  also  bolster  cell  counts.  "After  a  crab  molts,  it  increases  in 
size — and  volume — dramatically,"  Gibson  says.  "It  needs  to  boost 
its  production  of  blood  to  compensate.  We  may  be  able  to  use  that 
effect  to  increase  the  output  of  our  cell  cultures." 

As  he  has  worked  with  horseshoe  crabs  over  the  years,  Gibson 
says  he  has  become  intrigued  with  other  aspects  of  their  physiology 
and  behavior.  For  example,  he  notes,  as  the  crabs  get  larger,  the 
amount  of  muscle  tissue  per  unit  volume  in  the  animals  shrinks.  He 
became  curious  about  how  the  crabs  continue  to  generate  adequate 
energy  to  swim  and  move  about  on  the  ocean  floor. 

Gibson  suspected  that  each  time  a  crab  molts,  its  muscle  fibers 
gain  additional  mitochondria — the  organelles  in  cells  that  are  respon- 
sible for  turning  glucose  into  energy.  In  other  words,  the  larger  the 
animal  becomes,  the  more  biological  engines  it  has  powering  its 
muscle  fibers.  Using  an  electron  microscope  to  examine  and  count 
the  mitochondria  in  muscles  from  crabs  of  different  ages,  he 
confirmed  his  hypothesis. 

To  make  sure  the  differences  were  not  somehow  created  by  the 
process  of  preparing  and  staining  the  muscle  tissue,  he  is  currently 
examining  muscle  in  living  horseshoe  crabs  with  a  confocal  micro- 
scope at  the  Marine  Biological  Laboratory  in  Woods  Hole,  Mass.  A 
confocal  microscope  uses  special  optics  and  a  digital  computer  to 
peer  though  the  translucent  shell  of  the  crab  and  reconstruct  a  de- 
tailed, three-dimensional  image  of  its  internal  organs. 

The  preliminary  results  from  living  crabs  also  indicate  that  the 
mitochondria  multiply  as  the  crab  ages.  Beyond  helping  to  answer 


Graduate  student  Jill  Friberg  and 
Professor  Daniel  Gibson  extract 
a  blood  sample  from  a  horseshoe 
crab.  The  two  are  continuing 
to  develop  ways  to  culture  the 
crab's  blood  producing  cells. 
They  are  also  studying  mitochon- 
dria in  crab  muscle  with  confocal 
microscopy,  a  technique  that  can 
look  through  the  translucent 
shell  of  a  living  crab  (see  inset). 


this  question,  Gibson  says  his  work  with  the  confocal  microscope  may 
have  implications  for  human  medicine.  "There  are  a  number  of  mito- 
chondrial diseases  in  humans,"  he  says.  "In  ragged  red  fiber  disease, 
for  example,  the  muscle  fibers  begin  to  look  strange  after  the  age  of  50 
or  so.  The  patient  becomes  weak  and  can  end  up  paralyzed." 

The  problem,  Gibson  says,  can  be  traced  to  genetic  defects  in  the 
muscle  mitochondria,  which  have  their  own  DNA  separate  from  the 
muscle  cell's  genome.  To  improve  the  diagnosis  of  this  and  similar 
conditions,  he  says  it  may  be  possible  to  design  a  fiber-optic  probe 
for  a  confocal  microscope  that  could  be  inserted  through  a  small  slit 
in  the  skin  to  examine  the  condition  of  muscle  mitochondria. 


20 


Summer  1993 


^^^  or  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  serious 
^y  collectors  of  postcards,  1993  is  a  special 
d^F year.  It  was  exactly  100  years  ago  that  the 
m   nation's  first  commercially  produced  picture 
postcards  appeared.  Sold  two  for  a  nickel  from 
vending  machines,  the  cards  were  marketed  as  souvenirs 
to  visitors  at  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition  in  Chicago. 

But  their  lineage  is  traced  to  Henrich  von  Stephan  in  Germany. 
In  1865,  the  year  WPI  was  founded,  von  Stephan  devised  the  postal 
card  (no  picture)  as  a  way  to  make  it  easier  and  cheaper  for  people 
to  keep  in  touch.  The  Austrian  government  was  the  first  to  issue 
postal  cards;  the  first  U.S.  cards  appeared  in  1872. 

William  Henry  Jackson,  a  mapmaker  for  the  Union  Army  during 
the  Civil  War  and  a  well-traveled  explorer  and  artist,  may  have 
made  the  first  true  picture  postcards — sketches  he  mailed  home 


Postcards  from  about  1912 
depict  Boynton  Hall,  right, 
and  the  Washburn  Shops. 


forces. 


embellished  with  personal  messages.  Later,  Jackson's 
photographs  of  the  U.S.  were  used  on  a  wildly  suc- 
cessful series  of  postcards  published  by  the  Detroit 
Printing  Co.  starting  in  the  1890s. 

But  picture  postcards  were  already  coming 
into  their  own  by  the  time  Jackson's  photos  first 
appeared.  Early  subjects  tended  to  be  major  exhibi- 
tions, like  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1882,  where  com- 
mercially produced  picture  postcards— depicting 
the  Eiffel  Tower— made  their  world  debut. 

In  the  U.S.,  postcards  bearing  photographs  and 
other  images  enjoyed  increasing  popularity  in  the 
years  just  after  the  Columbian  Exposition.  But  it       B;\ 
took  an  act  of  Congress  to  launch  the  picture 
postcard's  true  "golden  age."  Until  1898,  the  federal 
government  maintained  a  double  standard  for  postcard 
users.  Using  a  government-printed  card  to  send  one's  greetings 
cost  Americans  1  cent;  but  the  postage  on  privately  printed  cards  was  2  cents. 

The  Private  Mailing  Card  Act  of  May  19, 1898,  established  a  uniform  1-cent 
postage  rate  for  all  postcards.  The  act  unleashed  the  nation's  pent-up  hunger  for 
card  collecting,  and  dozens  of  postcard  publishers  sprang  up  around  the  nation 
only  too  eager  to  satisfy  the  demand.  In  short  order,  the  picture  postcard  became 
a  ubiquitous  part  of  the  American  landscape,  and  deltiology  (what  some  fans  call 
postcard  collecting)  became  a  hobby  that  still  rivals  philately  (stamp  collecting) 
in  popularity. 

Over  the  years,  it  seems  virtually  every  city,  state,  region,  historic  site,  county 
fair,  landmark,  tourist  trap,  scenic  overview,  amusement  park,  motel,  restaurant, 
historic  event  and  famous  person  has  been  immortalized  on  a  picture  postcard— 


__ 


Top,  Higgins  House 
is  the  star  of  this 
card  published  in 
1988.  Bottom,  the 
Institute's  most 
recent  postcard, 
published  in  1990. 


or  a  whole  series  of  cards.  Collectors  divide  the  vast  assortment  of  such  cards 
into  anywhere  from  300  to  400  categories. 

While  WPI  might  not  merit  a  category  all  its  own,  it  has  issued  its  share  of 
the  popular  mailers  over  the  years.  The  earliest  in  the  collection  have  post- 
marks or  inscriptions  dated  1906.  Many  of  the  early  cards  sport  hand-tinted 
black  and  white  photographs.  The  Institute's  most  recent  card — which  depicts 
an  aerial  view  of  the  campus  adorned  in  fall  colors — was  published  in  1990. 

On  these  pages  we  have  presented  a  small  sample  of  the  many  postcards 
that  have  portrayed  views  of  the  WPI  campus  over  the  years.  Our  thanks  to 
WPI  archivist  Lora  Brueck  for  her  help  in  assembling  this  collection. 


D 


AND  THE 


Here  are  the  stories  of 
15  alumni  who've  used 
their  educations  as 
stepping-stones  to 
careers  in  medicine. 


By  Diane  Benison,  Carol  Campbell, 
Allison  Chisolm  and  Ruth  Trask 


i  mong  WPI's  more  than  20,000  alumni  is  a 
ksmall  but  growing  group  who  have 
found  their  degrees  in  engineering, 
science,  management  and  the  liberal  arts  to  be  ideal  preparation  for 
careers  in  medically  related  professions.  They  work  today  as  doctors, 
nurses,  dentists,  hospital  engineers,  public  health  professionals,  med- 
ical researchers,  administrators  of  medical  facilities,  and  in  many, 
many  other  related  occupations. 

They  are  fighting  the  ravages  of  heart  disease  and  cancer,  minis- 
tering to  the  sick  and  injured  in  city  emergency  rooms,  treating  all 
manner  of  health  problems  and  patients  as  general  practitioners  and 
specialists,  developing  new  devices  and  medical  procedures  to  save 


lives  and  improve  the  delivery  of  health  care,  teaching  the  next  gener- 
ation of  physicians  in  teaching  hospitals,  and  even  helping  the  termi- 
nally ill  live  well  until  they  die. 

In  the  pages  that  follow,  we  invite  you  to  meet  several  of  these  tal- 
ented men  and  women.  Their  stories  were  reported  by  Diane  Benison, 
a  former  newspaper  editor  who  writes  regularly  for  the  WPl  Journal, 
Carol  Campbell,  a  free-lance  writer  from  Sturbridge,  Mass.,  who  last 
wrote  about  manufacturing  executives  for  the  Journal  (Winter  1992), 
Allison  Chisolm,  a  Worcester-based  writer  who  recently  moved  to  the 
area  from  New  York  City,  and  Ruth  Trask,  who  recently  retired  as 
WPI's  alumni  news  editor,  but  who  plans  to  continue  to  delight  Journal 
readers  with  her  profiles  of  alumni. 


WPI  Journal 


25 


L 


Pediatric  care  can  begin  before  birth  and  generally  ends  when  the 
patient  turns  19,"  says  Dr.  Athina  Kyritsis  '87,  a  second-year  resi- 
dent in  pediatric  medicine  at  All  Children's  Hospital  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, Fla.  "But  it  can  continue  into  adulthood  when  patients  have 
childhood  illnesses  like  cystic  fibrosis.  In  such  cases,  pediatric  medi- 
cine has  sometimes 
made  discoveries  and 
breakthroughs  with 
which  physicians  who 
treat  adults  may  not 
be  familiar." 

When  tests  and  di- 
agnostic procedures 
like  sonograms  iden- 
tify medical  problems 
in  a  developing  fetus, 
pediatricians  may  be- 
come involved  in  a 
child's  prenatal  care, 


Knowledge  of 

Technology 

Helps  Athina 

Kyritsis  in  her 

Training  in 

Pediatrics 


she  says.  "A  pediatri- 
cian or  neonatologist 
may  be  called  in  to  discuss  with  the  parents  the  likely  outcome  and 
prognosis  for  the  child,  and  what  the  management  might  involve." 

All  Children's  Hospital  is  a  "subspecialty  hospital  that  accepts 
transfers  from  other  hospitals  that  have  patients  with  complicated 
cases  or  who  need  special  attention,"  Kyritsis  says.  "We  have  all  the 
subspecialties  of  pediatrics  at  our  hospital.  As  part  of  the  University 
of  South  Florida,  it  is  also  a  teaching  hospital,  so  it  carries  the  high- 
est standard  of  care." 

Kyritsis  says  doing  her  undergraduate  work  at  a  college  known 
primarily  for  its  engineering  and  science  programs  was  a  help  to  her 
in  medical  school.  "It's  good  to  go  into  medicine  with  a  background 
in  engineering  or  anything  that  introduces  you  to  technology, 
because  medical  diagnosis  is  now  so  technologically  advanced;  it 
takes  quite  a  bit  of  understanding  to  be  able  to  apply  that  tech- 
nology to  clinical  practice. 

"The  breakthroughs  happening  in  medicine  are  extraordinary. 
A  thorough  grounding  in  technology  helps  you  understand  how  the 
diagnostic  studies  are  done  and  the  implications  of  the  methodolo- 
gies. Then  you  can  apply  that  understanding  to  your  own  diagnosis. 
It's  also  helpful  to  know  how  medical  technology  like  MR]  or  CT 
scanners  work  so  you  can  understand  their  limitations." 

Despite  her  technical  background,  Kyritsis  says  she  found  med- 
ical school  "initially  overwhelming.  It  was  like  being  given  a  spoon 
to  scoop  out  the  ocean.  It's  overwhelming  how  much  information 
you're  expected  to  learn  in  a  short  period  of  time.  It  seems  beyond 
your  capacity  to  do  so,  then  all  of  a  sudden  you  find  that  you're  able 
to  do  it. 

"Just  when  you  think  you  can't  possibly  make  room  for  more 
information,  your  second  year  starts  and  your  work  load  doubles. 
You  really  think  that  you're  likely  to  lose  your  mind.  But  somehow 
you  find  you  can  do  it.  With  some  sacrifice  and  some  perseverance 
you  get  through  it.  In  the  third  year  you're  introduced  to  clinical  sci- 
ences and  you  realize  that  what  you've  read  in  books  didn't  tell  you 


all  you  need  to  know  to  diagnose  patients.  You  start  to  develop  your 
diagnostic  skills  and  your  physical  exam  skills. 

"Then  you're  thrown  into  residency.  That's  unbelievable.  All  of  a 
sudden  you're  responsible  for  patients.  You're  on  call,  so  most  of 
the  time  you're  exhausted.  You're  constantly  second-guessing  your 
decisions  and  you're  hoping  you've  done  the  right  thing.  You're 
hoping  you've  had  good  communications  and  interaction  with  the 
patient  and  the  family,  since  you  are  the  critical  link  between  them 
and  the  illness.  It's  a  scary  time,  but  your  confidence  builds  and  it's 
not  so  overwhelming  anymore — finally." 

Part  of  what  makes  residency  so  overwhelming  are  the  36-hour 
shifts  a  resident  must  endure  every  four  days.  Kyritsis  says  she 
accepts  this  on-call  duty  as  part  of  the  rite  of  passage  in  a  doctor's 


training.  But,  she  adds,  "it's  difficult  when  you  get  home  at  night  and 
you  have  a  baby  and  a  husband  and  a  house  and  you  haven't  slept. 
You  need  to  prioritize  the  little  time  that  you  have  while  your  eyes 
are  still  open." 

She  and  her  husband,  Dr.  Zannos  Grekos,  who  is  doing  a  fellow- 
ship in  cardiology,  have  a  14-month-old  daughter  and  a  second  child 
due  in  January.  Any  doubts  about  her  powers  of  organization  are 
dispelled  by  the  offhand  comment  that  she  breastfed  her  daughter 
during  her  first  year  of  residency. 

Like  some  other  WP1  Plan  graduates,  Kyritsis  had  trouble  getting 
medical  schools  to  accept  her  WP1  grades.  The  University  of  South 
Florida  Medical  School  in  Tampa  accepted  her,  but  required  her  to 
take  a  course  of  its  choice  at  the  university  before  she  started.  The 
course  was  comparable  to  one  she'd  taken  at  WP1;  after  doing 
extremely  well  on  the  first  two  tests,  she  was  excused  from  finishing 
it.  "I  guess  they  saw  that  the  standard  of  education  at  WPI  was  more 
than  adequate. 

"I  really  enjoy  what  I  do.  I  like  pediatrics.  1  like  medicine.  I  recom- 
mend medicine  to  anyone  who  would  like  a  career  that  has  a 
tremendous  interaction  with  people  and  is  intellectually 
challenging."  — Diane  Benison 


26 


Summer  1993 


L 


IE 


About  2  million  Americans— young  and  old— suffer  from  chronic 
leg  ulcers  caused  by  venous  insufficiency.  The  ulcers,  which 
typically  appear  on  the  inside  of  the  leg  near  the  ankle,  are  unpleas- 
ant, unsightly  and  painful  and  can  make  it  difficult  to  lead  a  normal, 
active  life. 

Chronic  venous  ulcers  are  the  final  stage  of  a  process  that  begins 
with  the  formation  of  a  blood  clot  in  veins  of  the  leg.  The  clot,  which 
can  form  for  a  number  of  reasons,  including  injuries  and  pregnancy, 
often  grows  to  engulf  one  of  more  of  the  valves  inside  the  vein  that 


/ 


help  blood  to  flow  back  to  the  heart.  In  time,  the  body  dissolves  the 
clot,  but  in  the  process  the  valves  are  often  damaged  or  destroyed. 

Without  the  valves  to  keep  it  moving,  blood  pools  in  the  vein,  a 
condition  known  as  venous  stasis.  Over  a  period  of  time,  the  blood 
may  seep  out  into  the  surrounding  tissue.  As  they  diffuse  through 
the  tissue  of  the  leg,  blood  cells  die,  releasing  compounds  that  dam- 
age the  tissue.  For  many  people  with  this  condition,  that  tissue 
damage  leads  to  leg  ulcers. 

For  some  3,000  years,  the  treatment  of  choice  for  leg  ulcers  has 
been  elevating  the  leg  above  the  heart.  Over  the  course  of  weeks,  the 
pooled  blood  flows  out  of  the  vein  and  the  ulcer  usually  recedes.  But 
this  is  only  a  temporary  solution,  since  the  ulcers  often  return  once 
activity  is  resumed,  and  prolonged  bed  rest — up  to  three  months — is 
often  impractical  for  younger  patients.  Surgical  solutions,  including 


vein  repairs  and  skin  grafts,  can  bring  about  relief,  but  too  often 
these  procedures  also  fail  to  provide  a  permanent  cure. 

According  to  Dr.  Raymond  M.  Dunn  78,  assistant  professor  of 
plastic  surgery  and  clinical  director  of  the  Plastic  Surgery  Research 
Laboratories  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical  Center,  the 
lack  of  an  adequate  treatment  for  leg  ulcers  may  be  due,  in  part,  to 
the  fact  that  the  condition  is  not  typically  life  threatening.  In  addi- 
tion, it  affects  sections  of  the  body  that  fall  with  the  province  of 
three  different  medical  specialties. 

"Ulcers  and  wounds  fall  under  plastic  surgery,"  he  says.  "Veins 
and  arteries  are  the  domain  of  vascular  surgery.  And  skin  problems 
are  covered  by  dermatology.  This  problem  has  gotten  lost  some- 
where in  between.  A  vascular  surgeon  will  think  about  how  he  can 
fix  the  veins;  a  dermatologist  will  treat  the  skin;  a  plastic  surgeon  will 
deal  with  the  wound.  The  problem  is  truly  interdisciplinary." 

It  was  during  his  medical  training  that  Dunn  says  he  first  got  an 
insight  into  how  an  effective  treatment  for  leg  ulcers  might  be  devel- 
oped. His  inspiration  came  when  treating  a  young  patient  at  a  Veter- 
ans Administration  hospital  in  Virginia.  "He  had  had  a  leg  ulcer  and, 
for  no  good  reason,  a  plastic  surgeon  had  done  a  microsurgical  flap 
procedure  on  him,"  Dunn  says.  "I  asked  him  how  the  leg  was  doing, 
and  he  made  a  statement  that  turned  a  light  bulb  on  in  my  head.  He 


Raymond  Dunn  Gives 

Leg  Ulcer  Sufferers  a 

New  Lease  on  Life 


said,  'When  I  get  a  scratch  or  a  bruise  on  the  area  with  my  flap,  it 
heals  just  like  normal.'" 

When  leg  ulcers  are  treated  with  skin  grafts— a  common  approach, 
Dunn  says — scratches  and  bruises  may  cause  the  ulceration  to  reap- 
pear. But  for  some  reason,  the  skin  flap  had  held  up  well  to  normal 
wear  and  tear.  "That's  where  my  interest  in  this  procedure  began," 
he  says. 

Unlike  a  graft,  where  only  the  skin  is  removed  and  transplanted 
to  the  area  affected  by  the  ulcer,  microsurgical  flap  surgery  involves 
also  taking  the  tissue  underlying  the  skin— including  arteries  and 
veins.  In  the  surgical  application  Dunn  pioneered,  a  flap  is  removed 
from  the  back  and  attached  to  the  area  from  which  the  ulcer  has 
been  removed.  The  blood  vessels  in  the  flap  are  then  painstakingly 
hooked  up  to  the  leg's  own  vasculature. 

As  Dunn  and  his  colleagues  at  UMass  studied  the  results  of  the 
procedures  they  performed,  they  were  surprised  to  find  that  the 
veins  in  the  flaps  they  transplanted  from  their  patients  backs  con- 
tained numerous  small  valves.  "No  one  had  ever  reported  seeing 
valves  in  these  veins,"  he  says.  "We're  not  sure  why  they  are  there, 
since  blood  in  the  back  veins  flows  down— with  the  force  of  gravity 
— toward  the  heart. 


WPI  Journal 


27 


"With  this  operation,"  Dunn  adds,  "we  are  able  to  address  all  of 
the  problems  that  contribute  to  leg  ulcers.  In  one  procedure,  we 
transplant  valves,  we  graft  skin  and  we  remove  the  scarred  wound." 
Dunn  has  performed  10  flap  procedures  for  leg  ulcer  sufferers.  To 
date,  none  of  the  ulcers  has  reappeared. 

Dunn  says  the  procedure  has  met  with  some  skepticism  in  the 
medical  community,  particularly  from  vascular  surgeons  who  are 
puzzled  by  how  the  procedure  can  be  effective  if  the  original  source 
of  the  ulcer — the  damaged  vein — is  not  repaired.  Dunn  says  more  re- 
search needs  to  be  done  to  fully  understand     

why  the  technique  works,  but  he  notes  that 
its  success  may  indicate  that  the  cause  of 
leg  ulcers  is  more  complicated  than 
previously  thought. 

Dunn,  along  with  a  vascular  surgeon  and 
a  dermatologist,  sees  patients  with  leg  ul- 
cers and  other  vascular  diseases  in  the  Ven- 
ous Clinic  they  founded  at  the  UMass  Medi- 
cal Center.  The  clinic  is  the  only  one  of  its 
kind  in  New  England.  "Actually,"  Dunn  says, 
"we  don't  know  of  any  other  center  in  the 
country  that  has  brought  these  three  disci- 
plines together  to  address  this  problem." 

Dunn,  who  received  his  bachelor's 
degree  in  chemistry  from  WP1,  earned  his 
M.D.  at  Albany  (N.Y.)  Medical  College  in 
1982.  "Early  in  my  education,  it  became 
apparent  to  me  that  1  was  interested  in 
surgery,"  he  says.  "No  doubt  my  strong 
engineering  orientation  as  a  WPI  student 
predisposed  me  to  this  inclination." 

He  undertook  his  residency  in  general 
surgery  at  UMass  in  1982  and  was  board  certified  in  that  discipline  in 
1988.  In  1987,  he  began  his  training  in  plastic  surgery  at  the  Eastern 
Virginia  Medical  Center  in  Norfolk,  completing  the  program  in  1990. 
He  says  he  was  attracted  to  plastic  surgery  because  it  enables  a 
practitioner  to  put  the  principles  of  surgery  to  work  on  a  constantly 
changing  array  of  surgical  challenges. 

"In  many  surgical  disciplines,  doctors  learn  a  set  of  operations 
that  they  perform  over  and  over  again,"  he  notes.  "The  plastic  sur- 
geon's task  is  different  with  each  patient.  Doing  this  type  of  work 
involves  a  lot  of  problem  solving,  and  that's  a  lot  like  engineering. 
1  honestly  believe  the  education  1  received  in  engineering  at  WPI  has 
made  me  a  better  practitioner,  because  problem  solving  is  really 
what  medicine  is  all  about." 

During  his  stay  in  Virginia,  Dunn  traveled  to  West  Africa,  the 
Philippines  and  Turkey,  where  he  worked  with  volunteer  surgical 
organizations  from  the  Norfolk  area  providing  care  for  children  with 
burns  and  congenital  defects,  such  as  cleft  lips.  "That  was  a  particu- 
larly gratifying  part  of  my  training,  which  I  hope  to  continue  through- 
out my  career,"  he  says.  Today  he  is  a  surgical  volunteer  with  the 
Federico  Trillo  Foundation  in  San  Juan,  Puerto  Rico. 

A  Maimonides  Fellowship,  which  he  received  during  his  training 
program  in  Virginia,  enabled  him  to  travel  throughout  Israel  to  ob- 


"With  this  operation, 
we  are  able  to  address 
all  of  the  problems  that 
contribute  to  leg  ulcers. 

In  one  procedure, 

we  transplant  valves, 

we  graft  skin  and  we 

remove  the 

scarred  wound. " 


serve  plastic  surgery  at  various  universities.  The  fellowship  is  given 
each  year  to  one  resident  in  plastic  surgery  in  Virginia. 

While  in  Virginia  he  also  received  the  Burroughs-Welcome  Resi- 
dent Leadership  Award  from  the  American  Medical  Association  for  his 
voluntary  surgical  activities  and  was  appointed  a  resident  delegate  to 
the  American  Medical  Association  by  the  American  Society  of  Plastic 
and  Reconstructive  Surgery,  which  enabled  him  to  participate  in  na- 
tional forums  on  medicine.  Basic  research  he  performed  in  Virginia  re- 
sulted in  a  paper  on  microsurgical  monitoring,  which  earned  him  the 

Best  Paper  Award  from  the  Plastic  Surgery 

Education  Foundation  in  1990. 

Dunn  began  his  full-time  practice  in 
plastic  and  reconstructive  surgery  at 
UMass  in  1990.  He  says  the  bulk  of  his  time 
in  the  operating  room  is  spent  in  reconstruc- 
tive surgery.  In  addition  to  his  work  with 
patients,  Dunn  also  spends  time  teaching 
and  mentoring  medical  students  at  the 
university. 

As  an  affiliate  assistant  professor  of 
biomedical  engineering  at  WPI,  he  advises 
undergraduates  completing  MQPs  and 
master's  degree  candidates  on  a  variety  of 
research  projects  at  UMass.  And,  he  is  a 
member  of  WPI's  Pre-Health  Professions 
Advisory  Committee,  which  helps  to  im- 
prove opportunities  for  undergraduates 
who  aspire  to  medical  careers. 

His  busy  life  also  includes  raising  18- 
month-old  triplets— Katie,  Meaghan  and 
Sarah — with  his  wife,  Beth.  Still,  Dunn  has 
found  time  to  become  active  in  the  national 
medical  community.  A  member  of  the  American  Association  of  Clin- 
ical Anatomy,  the  American  College  of  Surgeons  and  the  Massachu- 
setts Society  of  Plastic  Surgery,  he  is  a  delegate  representing  plastic 
surgery  in  the  Young  Physicians  Section  of  the  American  Medical 
Association  and  chairman  of  the  Young  Physicians  Section  for  plas- 
tic surgery  of  the  American  Society  for  Plastic  and  Reconstructive 
Surgery. 

"I  find  this  work  exciting,"  he  says,  "because  there  are  an  incredi- 
ble number  of  changes  coming  along  in  medicine.  We  will  have  to 
find  ways  in  this  country  to  deal  with  our  inability  to  provide  care 
for  everyone.  My  generation  will  not  only  be  affected  by  these 
changes,  but  will  be  involved  in  the  evolution  of  medicine." 

Dunn  says  one  of  the  goals  of  his  fellow  young  plastic  surgeons 
is  to  better  educate  Americans  about  what  this  specialty  is  all  about 
and  to  dispell  the  myth  that  all  plastic  surgery  consists  of  face  lifts, 
breast  implants  and  other  cosmetic  procedures.  "People  don't  have 
any  idea  of  the  breadth  of  what  we  do,"  he  says.  "We  take  care  of 
trauma  patients  and  cancer  patients.  We  correct  congenital  defects. 
We  do  surgery  of  the  hand.  We  do  laser  surgery,  and  so  on.  More 
than  80  percent  of  our  work  is  reconstructive  surgery.  It's  really  a 
diverse  and  exciting  field." 

—Michael  Dorsey  and  Ruth  Trask 


28 


Summer  1993 


LUM 


w 


hen  Dr.  Daniel  Pender  '63  was  a  mechanical 
engineering  major  at  the  Institute,  he  never 


imagined  that  his  future  career  would  find  him  ap- 
plying the  principles  he  learned  in  his  engineering 
courses  to  the  study  of  the  human  body.  That,  how- 
ever, is  precisely  how  he  views  his  work  today  as 
an  otologic,  or  ear,  surgeon  at  the  New  York  Ear 
Institute  and  at  Columbia  Presbyterian  Hospital  in 
New  York  City. 

"Otology  is  a  wonderful  specialty  for  a  mechanical  engineer,"  he 
says.  "As  an  ear  surgeon,  I  work  on  the  mechanical  structure  of  the 
ear.  Surgery  in  that  area  is  interesting — and  meticulous.  I  like  metic- 
ulous things.  Usually  that  means  small,  neat  machines  where  you 
can  appreciate  how  things  fit  together  and  work." 

Pender  says  repair  of  the  middle  ear  requires  an  understanding 
of  middle-  and  inner-ear  biophysics,  impedance  or  resistance  match- 
ing, and  electrophysiology.  He  says  the  ear  is  essentially  an 
electromechanical  device,  "a  black  box  that  transfers  signals  in 
an  elaborate  way  to  the  brain." 

Sound  energy  arriving  in  the  ear  vibrates  the  eardrum.  This 
movement  is  transferred,  via  the  linkage  formed  by  the  three 
bones  of  the  middle  ear,  to  a  membrane  in  the  cochlea,  creating 
pressure  waves  in  this  fluid-filled  organ.  Receptor  cells  in  the 
cochlea  respond  to  these  waves,  converting  the  various 
frequencies  of  sound  into  electrical  sig- 
nals that  travel  to  the  brain  along 
the  auditory  nerve. 

Pender  did  not  always 
intend  to  pursue  a  career 
in  ear  surgery.  Origin- 
ally, he  says,  he  was  in- 
terested in  plastic  sur- 
gery, but  was  deterred 
by  what  he  calls  "the 
credentials  obstacle. 
This  would  require  five 
full  years  of  surgery, 
which  did  not  interest 
me,"  he  says.  Instead, 
he  chose  an  ear,  nose 
and  throat  specialty 
that  he  further  limited  to  otology. 

After  receiving  his  undergraduate  degree  from  WPI,  Pender 
moved  on  to  the  Yale  Graduate  School  of  Engineering  to  work 
toward  a  Ph.D  in  mechanical  engineering.  After  completing  one 
year  there  and  earning  his  master's,  he  received  a  mailing  about  a 
summer  program  at  the  University  of  California's  Lawrence  Radia- 
tion Laboratory.  Enticed  by  the  idea  of  spending  a  summer  on  the 
West  Coast,  he  applied.  That  summer,  he  moved  to  California  to 
work  full  time  at  the  radiation  lab. 

He  later  enrolled  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  Medical 
School  to  complete  his  M.D.  degree.  He  did  his  surgical  residency  at 
the  University  of  Vermont  and  completed  a  two-year  research  fellow 
ship  at  Harvard.  At  Harvard,  he  studied  a  drug  used  in  the  treatment 


To  Otologic  Surgeon 

Daniel  Pender,  the  Ear  Is  a 

Marvelous  Mechanical  Device 


of  Meniere's  Syndrome,  which  causes  hearing  loss  and  acute 
dizziness.  The  study  was  published  in  the  American  Journal  of 
Otolaryngology. 

Pender  has  continued  his  interest  in  applied  research  as  a  prac- 
ticing surgeon.  One  of  the  products  of  that  work  is  a  device  he  calls 
a  laser-oto-injecto-scope.  The  patented  apparatus  is  designed  to 
treat  a  condition  called  serious  otitis  media,  a  common  and  persis- 
tent ear  infection — mostly  in 
children — caused  by  a  build-up  of 
fluid  in  the  middle  ear.  Pender  says 
the  procedure  often  used  to  correct 
the  condition — inserting  a  small 
drainage  tube  into  the  eardrum — is 
the  most  commonly  performed  mi- 
nor operation  in  the  United  States. 
Lasers  have  been  used  experi- 
mentally to  make  drainage  holes  in 
the  human  eardrum,  but  the  tech- 
nique has  failed  to  gain  widespread 
acceptance  because  of  the  difficulty 
of  keeping  the  resulting  hole  open  long 
enough  to  drain  the  fluid.  Pender's  device 
solves  this  problem. 

After  a  topical  anesthetic  is  applied  to 
the  eardrum,  the  laser-oto-injecto-scope 
is  inserted  into  the  ear  canal,  enabling  the 
physician  to  sight  the  proper  spot  on  the 
eardrum.  The  device  emits  a  laser  pulse 
and  a  small,  conical  grommet.  Like  a  dart 
shot  from  a  blowgun,  the  hollow  grom- 
met is  impelled  by  a  puff  of  air. 

Traveling  at  the  speed  of  light,  the 
laser  pulse  opens  a  small  hole  in  the  tis- 
sue of  the  eardrum;  a  fraction  of  a  second 
later,  the  grommet  is  embedded  in  the 
hole  to  form  a  drainage  tube.  The  simple, 
quick  procedure  can  be  performed  in  a  doctor's  office,  Pender  says, 
whereas  existing  procedures  are  normally  performed  in  a  hospital  set- 
ting and  require  general  anesthesia. 

Pender  is  in  the  process  of  seeking  funds  to  have  a  prototype 
built.  He  said  he  has  recently  contacted  several  venture  capital 
groups.  "I'm  looking  for  only  $100,000,"  he  says  with  a  laugh, 
"but  some  of  these  groups  don't  give  out  less  than  a  million.  Any 
interested  investor  is  welcome  to  call  me." 

—Carol  Campbell 


The  diagram  shows  a  de- 
vice invented  by  Dr.  Daniel 
Pender  to  treat  chronic 
ear  infections.  A  laser 
opens  a  small  hole  in  the 
eardrum  into  which  a 
drainage  tube  is  impelled. 


WPI  Journal 


29 


L 


INI    II 


IE 


IE 


Dentist  David 
Crimmins 

Benefits  from 
Background 
in  Materials 


Being  a  dentist  was  the 
farthest  thing  from 
my  mind  while  I  was 
studying  chemistry  at 
WPI,"  says  Dr.  David  S. 
Crimmins  '58,  who  has 
a  private  practice  in 
Wilbraham,  Mass.  "But 
when  you  get  right  down 
to  it,  it  came  about  natu- 
rally, though  in  a  round- 
about way." 
After  earning  his  undergraduate  degree  at  WPI,  Crimmins  set  out 
on  an  educational  marathon  that  continues  today.  He  did  graduate 
work  in  physical  chemistry  at  the  University  of  Wisconsin  and 
earned  his  doctor  of  science  degree  in  metallurgy  at  MIT.  He  would 
later  take  courses  in  electrical  engineer- 
ing at  the  University  of  Hartford  and 
earn  a  doctor  of  dental  medicine  degree 
at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  School 
of  Dental  Medicine. 

After  MIT,  Crimmins  served  in  the 
U.S.  Army  Signal  Corps  as  the  post  signal 
officer  at  the  Watertown,  Mass.,  Arsenal 
and  as  a  research  metallurgist  at  the 
Army's  materials  lab  in  Watertown.  In 
1965  he  took  a  post  as  a  research  metal- 
lurgist at  Du  Pont's  Engineering  Mater- 
ials Laboratory  at  the  Experimental 
Station  in  Wilmington,  Del. 

A  year  later  he  accepted  an  appoint- 
ment as  an  assistant  professor  in  the 
Biological  Materials  Department  at 
Northwestern  University  Dental  School 
and  soon  moved  on  to  the  Department 
of  Metallurgy  at  the  University  of 
Denver.  While  in  Denver,  he  also  taught  dental  biomaterials  two 
days  a  week  at  the  UCLA  Dental  School,  commuting  over  the  Rockies 
on  Monday  mornings  and  heading  "back  over  the  bump"  on  Tuesday 
evenings. 

At  Northwestern,  he  taught  courses  in  medical  and  dental  mater- 
ials, emphasizing  the  problems  encountered  in  using  materials  like 
metals,  ceramics,  polymers  and  composites  in  the  biological  envi- 
ronment of  the  human  body.  At  Denver,  his  teaching  focused  on 
physical  metallurgy,  the  physical  chemistry  of  polymer  solutions, 
biomedical  materials,  and  the  surface  chemistry  of  materials.  He 
also  organized  a  conference  on  biomedical  materials. 

Early  in  his  career,  Crimmins  left  academia  to  begin  a  wide-rang- 
ing tour  through  industrial  laboratories.  He  worked  first  as  research 
manager  for  Emhart  Corp.  in  Bloomfield,  Conn.  In  1969  he  joined  the 
Military  Arms  Division  of  Colt  Industries  in  Hartford,  where  he  was 
manager  of  the  Advanced  Manufacturing  Engineering  Department  in 
charge  of  manufacturing  planning,  facility  engineering,  cost  analysis 
and  manufacturing  technology. 


He  also  supervised  manufacturing  engineers  working  on  advan- 
ced projects  related  to  the  production  of  the  M-16  rifle  and  the  com- 
pany's new  products.  In  1971  he  provided  engineering  assistance 
and  developed  training  programs  in  materials  and  manufacturing  as 
Colt  prepared  to  begin  manufacturing  the  M-16  in  Korea. 

Crimmins  next  served  two  years  as  manager  of  manufacturing 
and  product  development  for  the  Smith  Kline  Surgical  Specialties 
Department  of  Smith  Kline  &  French  Laboratories  in  Philadelphia.  He 
was  responsible  for  the  development  and  marketing  of  advanced 
surgical  implants  and  instruments.  "I  went  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other,"  he  says  with  a  smile.  "I  guess  I  don't  feel  comfortable  with 
the  'killing  stuff.' 

"By  1973, 1  decided  I  wanted  to  get  into  a  more  personal,  hands-on 
type  of  career,"  Crimmins  says.  After  earning  his  dental  degree,  he 
opened  his  own  practice  in  Wilbraham.  Unlike  most  dentists,  Crim- 
mins brought  to  his  practice  an  extensive  background  in  metallurgy 

and  in  the  types  of 
advanced  materials  that 
were  already  beginning 
to  impact  the  way 
dentists  approach  their 
work. 

That  background  can 
be  seen  in  the  articles 
Crimmins  has  authored 
and  co-authored  in  sci- 
entific journals.  They  in- 
clude "The  Selection  and 
Use  of  Materials  in 
Surgical  Implants," 
"The  Electrochemical 
Properties  of  Dental 
Amalgam,"  "Mechanical 
Properties  of  Stress 
Relief  of  Stainless  Steel 
Orthodontic  Wire,"  and 
"An  Apparatus  for  In  Vitro  Corrosion  Testing  of  Biological  Materials." 
Crimmins  says  the  education  in  engineering  and  chemistry  he  re- 
ceived at  WPI  has  been  helpful  at  each  stage  of  his  career.  Today,  he 
notes,  he  takes  a  chemist's  point  of  view  when  it  comes  to  deciding 
what  should  and  should  not  go  into  the  human  mouth.  "Toxicology 
is  a  timely  topic  in  dentistry  these  days,"  he  says.  "For  example,  it's 
important  not  to  subject  patients  to  reactive  materials  that  can 
cause  deleterious  effects  on  the  body." 

Crimmins  says  he  is  looking  beyond  private-practice  dentistry  to 
yet  another  career.  "I'm  interested  in  working  in  the  area  of  public 
health,"  he  says.  In  fact,  in  1992  he  completed  a  master's  degree  pro- 
gram in  public  health  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  at  Amherst. 
His  ultimate  goal,  he  says,  is  to  work  in  the  public  health  area  for 
the  United  Nations  or  the  World  Health  Organization.  "I'm  studying 
German,  Russian  and  Mandarin  Chinese  so  I  can  be  as  effective  as 
possible,  wherever  I'm  assigned  to  serve.  I'm  looking  forward  to  the 
challenge." 

—Ruth  Trask 


30 


Summer  1993 


AIL 


IE 


IE 


Maybe  it  was  the  experience  of  being  one  of  the  only  Jewish  stu- 
dents at  a  Catholic  high  school  in  Lawrence,  Mass.,  that  nur- 
tured in  Dr.  Bruce  Minsky  77  a  tendency  to  value  the  nontraditional 
and  to  persist  against  the  odds.  Today,  as  a  successful  physician  at 
Memorial  Sloan-Kettering  Cancer  Center  in  New  York  City,  he  says 
he  values  those  qualities  in  himself  and  laughs  at  the  memories  of 
the  problems  he  encountered  on  his  way  to  becoming  a  doctor. 

A  late  bloomer,  Minsky  did  poorly  during  his  first  three  years  of 
high  school.  "1  didn't  really  care  about  academics,"  he  says.  "I  was 
busy  growing  up.  The  last  year  I  got  serious."  He  decided  WP1  might 
be  just  the  place  for  him  to  start  down  the  road  to  becoming  a  doc- 
tor, something  he  had  long  dreamed  of.  "I  fought  hard  to  get  in,"  he 
says.  "It  didn't  come  on  a  silver  platter." 

The  Institute  rejected  Minsky's  application.  In  those  early  days  of 
the  WPI  Plan,  the  college  had  an  option  called  negotiated  admissions 
that  allowed  a  rejected  applicant  to  press  his  case.  Minsky  went 
back  for  a  second  interview  and  was  accepted  with  the  warning  that 
half  of  students  admitted  under  negotiated  admissions  ultimately 
flunked  out.  "1  did  well,"  he  says.  "I  realized  that  I  flourish  where  I 
have  a  lot  of  freedom  and  where  1  must  be  self-motivated.  Very  few 
institutions  offer  students  that  opportunity." 

Minsky  says  one  of  the  most  valuable  parts  of  his  WPI  education 
was  the  opportunity  to  do  independent  research.  He  completed  his 
Interactive  Qualifying  Project  and  Major  Qualifying  Project  in  the 


biochemistry  laboratory  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical 
Center.  "It  was  a  good  experience;  I  ended  up  publishing  two 
papers,"  he  says.  "I  think  that  helped  me  immensely  in  getting  into 
medical  school.  Usually  colleges  don't  allow  undergraduates  to 
spend  two  years  doing  major  research  projects." 

In  1977,  Minsky  hit  another  roadblock  when  medical  schools  de- 
nied him  admission  because  of  confusion  over  WPI's  unusual  grad- 
ing system.  Instead  of  A's,  B's  and  C's,  the  Institute  then  awarded 
grades  of  Acceptable  (AC)  and  Acceptable  With  Distinction  (AD). 
But  medical  schools  wouldn't  accept  his  AD's  as  A's — despite  an 
explanatory  letter  from  Dean  John  van  Alstyne — making  his  grade 
point  average  too  low  to  meet  their  requirements.  "It  was  very  frus- 
trating," he  says. 


After  a  year  spent  working  in  the  biochemistry  department  at 
the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical  Center  and  in  the 
pathology  department  at  Boston  University,  he  reapplied  to  medical 
school  and  was  admitted  to  the  UMass  Medical  School.  By  that  time, 
the  medical  school  admission  system  had  accepted  the  value  of 
WPI's  AD  grade. 

At  Sloan-Kettering,  where  he's  been  since  1986,  Minsky  divides  his 
time  among  three  functions.  In  his  clinical  practice  in  radiation  oncol- 
ogy, he  specializes  in  gastrointestinal  cancer.  He  conducts  clinical  re- 
search in  the  development  of  new  treatment  protocols  for  patients 
and  basic  laboratory  research  in  magnetic  resonance  spectroscopy. 


Persistence  Helped 

Bruce  Minsky  Overcome 

Obstacles  on  the  Road 

to  Becoming  a 

Successful  Oncologist 


He  also  directs  the  residency  program  for  the 
Department  of  Radiation  Oncology,  supervising  the 
training  of  about  17  residents  and  fellows  each  year. 
He  says  he  likes  all  three  components  of  his  job 
equally.  "I  couldn't  live  without  any  of  them.  I  couldn't 
do  any  one  of  them  full  time.  I  couldn't  practice  full 
time  because  it  would  be  emotionally  overwhelming. 
I  couldn't  just  do  research  full  time  because  I  would 
miss  the  patient  care.  And  it's  a  lot  of  fun  to  train  good 
residents.  That's  sort  of  a  payback  for  me." 

His  research  on  new  cancer  treatments  focuses 
on  rectal  and  esophageal  cancer.  The  goal  is  to  find 
the  optimal  amounts  and  sequence  of  radiation, 
chemotherapy  and  surgery  to  improve  a  patient's  life 
expectancy  and  quality  of  life.  He  says  a  significant 
measure  of  quality  of  life  is  the  preservation  of  a  pa- 
tient's own  organs.  For  people  with  rectal  cancer,  for 
example,  that  can  mean  avoiding  a  colostomy. 

Minsky's  lab  develops  the  initial  clinical  trails  at  Sloan-Kettering 
and  runs  them  there.  Successful  trials  then  move  to  the  national 
level.  He  is  currently  running  three  national  trials  of  600  to  1,000  pa- 
tients each.  Funded  by  the  National  Cancer  Institute,  two  of  the  trials 
are  looking  at  protocols  for  esophageal  cancer  and  one  is  studying 
the  treatment  of  rectal  cancer. 

Minsky  says  he  became  interested  in  oncology  through  labor- 
atory research— beginning  with  his  MQP  at  WPI.  "I  later  found  that 
clinically  it  was  very  rewarding  to  help  people  with  cancer,"  he  says. 
"I  decided  that  I  was  going  to  go  into  that  specialty  when  I  went  to 
medical  school." 

—Diane  Benison 


WPI  Journal 


31 


IE 


It  was  1985.  A  full-time  mother  of  three  young  children,  Allison 
Huse  Nunn  73  was  considering  getting  back  into  the  work  force. 
She  had  worked  for  four  years  as  a  research  chemist  after  graduat- 
ing from  WP1,  but  had  taken  a  break  to  start  her  family.  For  the  previ- 
ous six  years,  she  and  her  family  had  lived  in  the  Pacific  Northwest, 
where  her  husband,  Bruce,  also  a  1973  WPI  grad,  worked  in  the  pulp 
and  paper  industry. 

Knowing  the  likelihood  that  Bruce's  work  might  require  another 
move,  she  decided  to  go  back  to  school  and  become  a  registered 


Allison  Nunn  Enjoys  the 

Challenges  and  Rewards  of  Being 

a  Part-time  Critical  Care  Nurse 


nurse,  something  she  says  had  been  in 
the  back  of  her  mind  for  years.  "I  wanted 
to  be  able  to  work  wherever  Bruce's  work 
took  us,"  she  says.  "Although  we  lived 
right  near  Seattle,  where  I  could  get  a  job 
in  the  biochemical  field,  my  fear  was  that 
we  would  end  up  in  the  backwoods  some- 
place, where  many  paper  mills  are,  and 
there  wouldn't  be  any  research  jobs. 

"Also,  I  had  discovered  that  I'm  more 
of  a  people  person  than  I  had  thought.  I 
had  never  considered  myself  a  people 
person — I'd  thought  of  myself  as  a  loner. 
Three  kids  will  change  you." 

Nunn  says  the  interests  that  led  to  her 
choice  of  a  career  in  nursing  were  kindled 
at  WPI.  Having  been  accepted  by  MIT  and 
the  Institute  by  the  time  she  graduated 
from  high  school  in  Skaneateles,  N.Y.,  she 
enrolled  at  WPI  to  become  a  chemist.  But 
after  four  semesters  of  calculus,  she  de- 
cided to  develop  an  interdisciplinary  science  major  instead. 

"I  had  taken  pharmacology  and  biochemistry  and  decided  that  I 
really  liked  those  subjects,"  she  says.  Her  new  major  enabled  her  to 
continue  to  study  chemistry  without  taking  more  calculus — a  pros- 
pect she  found  appealing.  She  also  focused  more  of  her  course  work 
on  the  life  sciences,  which  led  her  to  develop  an  incipient  interest  in 
medicine. 

Nunn  enrolled  at  Tacoma  Community  College  School  of  Nursing 
in  1985  and  received  her  associate's  degree  two  years  later.  While 
nursing  school  included  some  subjects  she  hadn't  taken  at  WPI, 
including  sociology  and  psychology,  she  says  her  WPI  education 
helped  her  complete  some  parts  of  the  curriculum  far  more  quickly 
than  her  classmates. 

"I  finished  one  required  self-study  math  class  in  five  days;  it 
was  supposed  to  be  a  normal,  semester-long  class,"  says  Nunn, 


who  finished  nursing  school  with  a  4.0  grade  point  average.  "I  found 
the  education  I  had  at  WPI  made  a  big  difference.  Among  other  things, 
I  already  knew  how  to  buckle  down  and  study  and  pay  attention  in 
class." 

As  a  student,  she  spent  six  months  working  as  a  "monitor  tech," 
interpreting  various  cardiac  monitors  in  a  critical  care  ward.  "Card- 
iac monitor  alarms  aren't  100  percent  foolproof,"  she  says.  "Our  job 
was  to  make  sure  the  nurses  were  alerted  when  there  was  a  real 
problem." 

After  graduation  she  worked  as  a  criti- 
cal care  nurse  at  a  community  hospital  in 
Puyallup,  starting  out  full  time  but  soon 
switching  to  part-time  status.  After  mov- 
ing to  Spokane  in  1988,  she  worked  for  a 
year  in  the  recovery  room  of  the  city's 
largest  hospital.  She  then  became  a  part- 
time  critical  care  nurse  at  Holy  Family 
Hospital  in  Spokane,  a  300-bed  facility 
with  a  10-bed  combined  intensive  care 
and  coronary  care  unit. 

"We  say  we  live  on  adrenaline  rushes," 
she  says.  "In  all  honesty  there  are  very 
few  of  those,  but  when  they  come,  they 
come  big  time.  I  enjoy  the  challenge."  The 
real  challenge,  she  is  quick  to  add,  is 
understanding  how  a  patient  on  multiple 
medications  is  being  affected  by  an  indi- 
vidual drug  or  the  combination  of  those 
drugs. 

"We  have  really  sick  patients  who  are 
frequently  on  ventilators,  multiple  moni- 
tors and  multiple  medications  simultane- 
ously," she  says.  "We  have  to  know  the 
drugs,  know  the  reactions  those  drugs  can 
cause,  and  know  how  they  react  in  combi- 
nation. 

"We  have  to  be  sure  we're  aware  of 
how  a  patient  is  affected.  We  are  given 
guidelines  by  the  doctors  and  we  can  indi- 
vidualize treatment  to  the  patients'  needs  without  having  to  call  the 
doctors  in  many  cases.  We  have  to  know  enough  so  we  can  react 
quickly  in  a  crisis.  We  have  to  think  about  whether  one  medication 
is  masking  something  else  and  about  how  diminishing  or  increasing 
a  drug  is  going  to  affect  a  patient's  various  systems.  We  feel  we  can 
make  a  real  difference  to  a  lot  of  the  patients  we  care  for.  It's  much 
more  intellectually  stimulating  than  many  other  parts  of  nursing." 

Nunn  says  she's  pleased  she  was  able  to  find  a  way  to  rejoin  the 
work  force  and  continue  to  be  a  nearly  full-time  mom.  She  says  she 
also  enjoys  the  sense  of  responsibility  her  job  gives  her.  "Critical 
care  nurses  have  historically  been  treated  with  a  lot  of  respect  by 
doctors,"  she  says.  "They  recognize  that  we're  with  the  patients 
many  more  hours  than  they  are  and,  therefore,  that  we  can  see 
things  that  they  can't." 

—Diane  Benison 


32 


Summer  1993 


L 


Bruce  Haffty  76  is  used  to  having  his  name  appear  in  the  national 
spotlight.  As  a  graduate  student  at  WPI,  he  was  the  subject  of  a 
feature  story  in  a  national  publication  that  described  a  portable 
recording  system  he  and  research  partner  Peter  W.  Kotilainen  74 
designed  to  monitor  heart  functions  during  normal  activity.  Today, 
his  research  on  breast  cancer,  biomedical  engineering  and  clinical 
radiotherapy  often  draws  the  attention  of  publications  like  USA 
Today  and  Prevention. 

Haffty  is  a  radiation  oncologist  at  Yale-New  Haven  Hospital 
in  New  Haven,  Conn.,  where  he  also  serves  as  associate  profes- 
sor of  therapeutic  radiology  at  the  Yale  University  School  of 
Medicine  and  director  of  residency  in  the  radiation  therapy 
program.  A  radiation  oncologist  is  a  physician  who  evaluates 


to  the  brain  to  destroy  specific  areas  of  tissue,  leaving  surrounding 
regions  virtually  unaffected. 

Stereotactic  radiosurgery  is  used  to  treat  various  types  of  brain 
tumors,  as  well  as  tumors  that  reside  in  and  around  the  skull, 
tumors  of  the  meninges  (the  membranes  surrounding  the  brain  and 
spinal  cord),  and  tumors  of  the  pituitary  gland,  among  other  condi- 
tions. The  linear  accelerator  is  able  to  rotate  around  the  patient's 


Bruce  Haffty' s  Scalpel  is  a 
Thin  Beam  of  Radiation 


Haffty,  right,  and  colleague  Dr.  Alain  C.J.  de  Lotbiniere, 
look  over  magnetic  resonance  images  of  a  patient  to 
determine  a  suitable  course  of  radiation  treatment. 

cancer  patients  to  see  whether  and  what  type  of  radiation  treatment 
may  be  appropriate  for  them.  He  then  delivers  that  treatment,  when 
needed. 

Haffty  has  become  well  known  in  the  medical  community  for  his 
research  on  cancers  of  the  breast,  brain,  and  head  and  neck,  and  for 
his  work  on  the  lumpectomy  in  combination  with  radiation  instead 
of  the  more  extensive  mastectomy  in  treating  breast  cancer. 

For  the  last  year  and  a  half,  Haffty  has  been  performing  an 
advanced  procedure  called  stereotactic  radiosurgery  at  Yale-New 
Haven's  Hunter  Radiation  Therapy  Center.  The  procedure  uses  a 
linear  accelerator  to  deliver  a  narrow  beam  of  high-energy  photons 


head,  making  it  possible  to  precisely  aim  the  beam  and 
control  the  dose  of  radiation  delivered  to  the  target 
site,  Haffty  says. 

Though  the  procedure  was  conceived  more  than 
40  years  ago  by  a  Swedish  neurosurgeon  and  scientist, 
neurosurgeons  and  radiation  oncologists  have  taken  a 
significant  interest  in  it  only  within  the  past  few  years. 
Haffty  says  the  sophisticated  radiation  delivery  and 
computer  imaging  technology  available  today  have  final- 
ly made  this  type  of  surgery  feasible  and  cost  effective. 
"1  went  into  the  field  of  radiation  oncology  because 
of  its  technological  bent — it's  very  heavy  into  physics 
and  engineering,"  says  Haffty,  who  completed  a  master's 
degree  at  WPI  in  biomedical  engineering.  As  a  graduate 
student,  he  did  research  at  Saint  Vincent  Hospital  in 
Worcester  on  biomedical  applications  in  cardiology  and 
cardiovascular  hemodynamics.  As  part  of  the  research, 
he  studied  the  feasibility  of  passing  electrical  currents 
through  the  body  to  measure  blood  flow.  The  results  of 
the  work  were  published  in  the  Journal  of  Applied  Physi- 
ology and  Chest,  among  other  journals. 

After  earning  his  master's  degree,  Haffty  attended 
Yale  University  School  of  Medicine,  completed  his 
internship  in  internal  medicine  at  Yale-New  Haven 
Hospital,  and  trained  in  radiation  oncology  at  the  Yale 
medical  school.  Today,  as  director  of  the  residency 
program  in  radiation  therapy,  he  is  responsible  for  the  training  given 
to  six  radiation  residents. 

He  is  also  engaged  in  research  aimed  at  evaluating  a  new  drug 
called  Porfiromycin,  which  is  used  as  an  adjunct  to  radiation  in  the 
treatment  of  cancers  of  the  head  and  neck.  Yale-New  Haven  is  cur- 
rently the  only  hospital  in  the  world  to  have  a  supply  of  this  drug. 
While  the  compound  is  actively  being  tested  on  patients,  Haffty  says 
it  is  too  early  to  determine  its  success. 

Despite  the  time  he  devotes  to  research,  teaching,  writing,  confer- 
ence presentations,  and  speaking  engagements  that  have  taken  him  as 
far  away  as  Italy  and  Venezuela,  he  says  he  manages  to  spend  about 
70  percent  of  his  time  treating  patients.  "I  enjoy  the  patient  interac- 
tion," he  says.  "I  see  the  service  I  give  to  patients  as  very  rewarding." 

—Carol  Campbell 


WPI  Journal 


33 


L 


Dr.  Mark  Mahoney  74  used  to  open  his  local  newspaper  and  head 
straight  for  the  sports  section.  Now  he  skips  past  sports  and 
reads  the  obituaries  first.  An  emergency  room  physician,  he  says  he 
wants  to  see  "if  anyone  1  treated  went  home  and  came  back  dead." 
Mahoney  is  a  six-year  veteran  of  the  Emergency  Department  at 
St.  Luke's  Hospital  in  New  Bedford,  Mass.,  the  state's  third  busiest. 


Mark  Mahoney  Enjoys 
the  Rewards  of  the 

High-Stress  World  of 
Emergency  Medicine 


When  he  started  there  full  time  in  1987,  he  says  he  might  have  dealt 
with  one  or  two  trauma  cases — car  crashes,  shootings  or  stabbings 
— a  week.  Now  he  sees  one  or  two  a  night. 

"This  has  become  a  more  violent  place,"  he  says.  "A  lot  of  these 
cases  are  probably  drug  related.  New  Bedford  is  an  old  fishing  and 
seaport  town  struggling  with  high  un- 
employment." Because  St.  Luke's  is  the 
area's  only  large  hospital,  he  adds,  "we 
don't  have  the  luxury  of  diverting 
patients.  We  take  all  comers." 

During  his  typical  12-hour  shifts  in 
the  ER,  he  sees  "everything,"  he  says. 
His  work  runs  the  gamut  from  walk-in 
patients  with  colds  or  sprains  to  people 
with  recurring  illnesses.  Summer,  with 
its  boating  accidents,  bee  stings,  heat 
stokes,  fireworks  injuries,  and  other  sea- 
sonal emergencies,  is  the  busiest  time  of 
year.  In  a  24-hour  period  during  warm 
weather,  he  and  another  staff  doctor  are 
likely  to  see  150  to  180  cases. 

Mahoney  has  not  spent  his  entire  ca- 
reer as  an  emergency  room  doctor.  After 
completing  his  medical  training,  he  opened  a  family  practice  in 
Mattapoisett.  Mass.,  in  1981.  He  also  took  a  24-hour  shift  twice  a 
week  as  the  head  of  an  area  emergency  room.  Six  years  ago,  he  de- 
cided those  marathon  nights  on  call  were  too  much,  even  for  a  doc- 
tor who  enjoys  distance  running  in  his  off  hours.  When  his  practice 
started  to  generate  more  paperwork  than  patient  care,  he  decided 
the  time  had  come  for  a  change. 

His  hours  in  the  ER  had  qualified  him  to  take  the  Emergency 
Medicine  board  exams,  so  in  1987  he  gave  up  the  family  practice  and 
moved  full  time  into  emergency  medicine  at  St.  Luke's.  Responding 
to  health  emergencies  became  for  Mahoney  the  foundation  of  a  sat- 
isfying career  with  surprisingly  predictable  hours. 

"Once  you're  home,  you're  off,"  he  says,  noting  that  his  set 
schedule,  which  places  him  on  call  only  occasionally,  "gives  me 


better  hours  and  more  time  to  relax."  He  can  also  spend  more  time 
with  his  wife,  Kathryn,  a  veteran  marathon  runner,  and  three  boys, 
ages  10, 11  and  13.  Still,  he  admits,  it  can  take  a  few  hours  to  unwind 
from  the  pressures  of  emergency  room  work.  "If  I  work  until  mid- 
night or  2  a.m.,  I  might  

not  get  to  sleep  until 
3  or  4  a.m.,"  he  says. 

Mahoney's  arrival  in 
medicine  was,  as  he  de- 
scribes it,  a  case  of 
"serendipity."  An 
organic  chemistry  ma- 
jor at  WPI,  he  was  con- 
sidering biochemistry 
positions  in  California 
when  a  friend  told  him 
he  was  planning  to  take 
the  MCAT,  the  entrance 
exam  for  medical 
schools.  "1  went  along 
with  him  and  did  all 
right,"  Mahoney  recalls 


with  a  nonchalance  unknown  to  most  pre-med 
students.  "It  wasn't  something  I  had  planned  ahead  for." 

He  landed  at  the  University  of  Connecticut  Medical  School  in 
Farmington,  10  miles  from  his  home  in  New  Britain,  Conn.  He  says 
his  WPI  education  gave  him  a  good  grounding  for  his  first  two  years 
of  basic  science  courses.  After  another  two  years  in  clinical  rota- 
tions, Mahoney  arrived  in  Abington,  Penn.,  for  a  three-year  family 
practice  residency. 

Now,  after  12  years  in  emergency  medicine,  Mahoney  says  he 
may  be  nearing  the  burnout  stage.  Despite  the  endurance  he's 
gained  as  a  runner  (having  completed  five  marathons,  he'll  run  in 
the  New  York  City  Marathon  again  this  fall  with  his  wife),  he  says  the 
stress  of  the  ER  is  tiring.  Adding  to  the  usual  pressures  of  ER  medi- 
cine is  the  new  threat  of  violence  against  health  care  providers. 


34 


Summer  1993 


Security  officers  at  St.  Luke's  have  confiscated  knives  and  guns  from 
family  members  and  patients,  alike. 

Health  care  reforms  brewing  in  Washington  are  likely  to  change 
one  aspect  of  life  in  the  emergency  room  for  the  better,  by  reducing 


the  walk-in  cases  many  people  bring  to  emergency  rooms  because 
they  have  no  where  else  to  go.  Mahoney  looks  forward  to  that 
change.  "In  busy  times,  patients  can  wait  two  and  a  half  to  three 
hours  to  see  a  physician,"  he  says.  "Treating  routine  illnesses 

through  the  ER  just  bogs  down  the  system  and  diverts 
attention  from  acute  cases." 

Yet  even  in  this  pre-reform  world,  Mahoney  finds  his 
work  rewarding.  "You  develop  a  real  camaraderie  with 
your  co-workers,"  he  says.  "We  really  pull  together.  And, 
working  in  the  emergency  room,  I  know  that  if  we  hadn't 
been  there,  some  of  those  patients  might  not  have  sur- 
vived." 

— Allison  Chisolm 


Emergency  room  physician  Mark 
Mahoney  says  he  sees  "everything" 
in  the  way  of  medical  problems  dur- 
ing a  typical  1 2-hour  shift  in  the 
emergency  room  of  St.  Luke's  Hos- 
pital in  New  Bedford,  Mass.  Clock- 
wise from  left,  on  a  recent  summer 
afternoon  in  the  ER  a  photographer 
caught  him  stitching  up  a  wound, 
checking  the  X-rays  of  a  patient  be- 
fore deciding  on  a  course  of  treat- 
ment, doing  a  routine  exam  on  a 
walk-in  patient,  and  bandaging  an 
injured  foot. 


WPI  Journal 


35 


L 


IE 


An  84-year-old  New  Jersey  man,  diagnosed  with  cancer,  had 
about  a  month  to  live.  A  lifelong  artist  and  photographer,  he  at- 
tended an  exhibit  of  his  work  arranged  in  10  days  by  staff  members 
of  West  Essex  Community  Health  Services/West  Essex  Hospice,  a 
local  health  service  agency.  Forty  people,  a  cable  TV  station  and  the 
Newark  Star-Ledger  came  to  his  opening  party  to  see  the  art  and  to 
honor  their  old  friend. 

"We  believe  it's  important  to  do  things  for  people  while  they 
live,"  says  George  Batten  '67,  executive  director  of  West  Essex 
Community  Health  Services  Inc.  in  Verona,  N.J.  His  staff's  work  on 
the  art  retrospective  is  typical  of  their  efforts  to  help  clients  enjoy 
their  last  days. 

Batten  takes  life  seriously.  He  has  spent  nearly  15  years  helping 
people  live  until  they  die  through  the  West  Essex  Hospice  program 
sponsored  by  West  Essex  Community 
Health  Services.  He  directs  a  corps  of  150 


George  Batten 

Has  Dedicated 

His  Life 

to  Helping 

Others  Live 

Until  They  Die 


visiting  nurses,  home  health  aides  and  phys 
ical  therapists  who  enable  terminally  ill 
clients  to  stay  at  home  and  still  be  safe. 

"We're  trying  to  make  people  as  independent  as  possible  so  they 
don't  have  to  move  into  an  institution  for  their  last  days,"  says 
Batten.  "Almost  two  generations  of  people  have  grown  accustomed 
to  dying  in  hospitals.  We've  gotten  away  from  home  care  and  we 
can't  afford  to  continue  that  way." 

Batten  notes  that  20  to  30  percent  of  all  health  care  expenditures 
are  spent  in  the  last  year  of  a  person's  life.  Hospices  offer  a  money- 
saving  option  by  providing  services  outside  institutions.  The  concept 
should  appeal  to  the  Clinton  administration's  health  care  reformers, 
he  says.  "So  much  of  health  care  is  still  controlled  by  doctors  and  hos- 
pitals," Batten  says.  "There's  not  enough  interest  or  money  in  preven- 
tive care — keeping  people  healthy  and  out  of  institutions." 

Batten  came  to  West  Essex  in  1974  with  a  master's  degree  from 
Cornell's  School  of  Business  and  Public  Administration.  "I  was  anx- 
ious to  put  all  my  grand  ideas  to  work,"  he  says.  A  management  engi- 
neering major  at  WPI,  he  decided  he  wanted  to  help  people,  though 
he  didn't  want  to  work  in  industry.  He  found  a  mentor  in  Robert  Hall, 
former  professor  of  management  and  director  of  continuing  educa- 
tion at  WPI.  Hall  helped  him  think  through  possible  career  choices 
and  suggested  health  care  administration. 


After  graduating  from  Cornell's  program,  Batten  worked  for  two 
years  as  a  planner  for  the  Health  Planning  Council  for  Greater  Bos- 
ton, examining  overlapping  health  services  in  the  area.  There  he  met 
Alice  Dempsey,  then  executive  director  of  the  Boston  Visiting  Nurse 
Association.  She  helped  him  land  a  job  as  state  associate  director  for 
the  Home  Health  Agencies  in  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont.  It  was 
while  doing  that  job  that  West  Essex  Community  Health  Services 
recruited  him  nearly  20  years  ago. 

He  began  the  hospice  program  at  West  Essex  Community  Health 
in  1979  and  recently  added  a  personal  emergency  response  system 
to  the  other  more  traditional  visiting  nurse  and  hospice  services.  A 
pager  worn  as  a  necklace  or  belt  buckle  allows  for  two-way  conver- 
sation in  an  emergency  with  an  operator  who  can  summon  help. 
Caring  for  the  caretakers  is  another  concern  of  Batten's.  With  this 

new  response 
system  in  place,  they 
can  leave  their 
patients  for  short  re- 
lief periods  to  run  er- 
rands and  do  other 
things  outside  the 
home. 

Batten  is  clearly 
in  a  growth  industry. 
The  fastest  growing 
segment  of  the  Amer- 
ican population  is 
women  over  85,  and 
the  number  of  AIDS 
cases  among  younger 
people  continues  to 
rise.  Both 

populations  benefit 
from  home  care  ser- 
vices, he  says.  In  fact,  the  past  two  years  have  seen  a  25  percent 
annual  increase  in  home  visits  by  West  Essex  staff  members. 

Serving  about  600  patients  monthly  in  mostly  suburban  commu- 
nities surrounding  Newark,  Batten's  staff  made  6,300  patient  visits  in 
June  alone,  which  translates  into  75,000  visits  per  year.  On  any  given 
day,  West  Essex  staff  cares  for  about  70  hospice  clients. 

Managing  workers  who  see  death  every  day  requires  great  sensi- 
tivity and  support,  says  Batten.  A  nurse  with  a  psychiatric  specialty 
works  both  individually  and  with  groups  of  staff  members  to  discuss 
handling  their  own  grief.  "Most  nurses  have  one  patient  die  each 
day,"  Batten  says.  "You  have  to  have  empathy  for  the  patient,  but 
not  sympathy.  Sympathy  means  you  take  your  work  home  with  you. 
You  have  to  be  able  to  carry  on  your  own  life  or  you'll  burn  out." 
Batten  follows  his  own  advice  with  an  active  home  life.  He  and 
his  wife,  Kathleen,  enjoy  jogging  and  tennis,  and  they  take  12-year- 
old  daughter,  Abigail,  on  family  ski  trips  and  white  water  canoeing 
outings.  He  says  celebrating  life  helps  remove  the  stigma  of  death. 
"I  shuffle  paper  all  day  long,"  he  says.  "But  I  can  go  home  at  the  end 
of  the  day  knowing  I'm  helping  people  enjoy  their  last  days." 

—Allison  Chisolm 


Batten  and  Barbara  Piwinski,  home  health  aid  training 
director  at  West  Essex  Community  Health,  present  a 
certificate  of  training  to  Joyce  Fugate. 


36 


Summer  1993 


L 


IE 


IE 


As  assistant  director  of  the  Cardiac  Laboratory  at  Hartford  Hospital 
in  Hartford,  Conn.,  and  clinical  professor  at  the  University  of 
Connecticut  School  of  Medicine  in  nearby  Farmington,  Dr.  Francis 
Kiernan  75  specializes  in  interventional  cardiology,  which  uses  inva- 
sive techniques  to  diagnose  problems  in  the  heart.  These  techniques 
include  angiograms  and  angioplasties,  he  says.  An  angiogram  is  a 
diagnostic  test  in  which  a  rapid  sequence  of  X-ray  images  is  taken 
of  an  artery  or  vein  after  a  dye  opaque  to  X-rays  is  injected  into  the 
blood  vessel.  By  recording  how  the  dye  passes  through  the  vessel, 
the  test  can  determine  its  shape  and  locate  places  where  it  may  have 

narrowed  or  

become  blocked. 
Narrowing  can  indi- 
cate the  presence  of 
blood  clots  or  ather- 
osclerotic plaque, 
Kiernan  says. 

Angiography  can 
also  be  used  to  diag- 
nose problems  in 
the  cavities  and 
valves  of  the  heart, 
and  can  provide  in- 
formation about  the 
heart  muscle  itself, 
Kiernan  says.  "We 
can  see  if  the  mus- 
cles of  the  pump 
are  weakening, 
since  the  cathe- 
terization proce- 
dure will  measure  the  blood  pressure  and  flow  in  all  of  the  chambers 
of  the  heart." 

When  fatty  deposits  narrow  One  of  the  coronary  arteries  that 
feed  blood  to  the  heart  muscle,  it  can  be  widened  with  angioplasty. 
The  procedure  involves  inserting  a  balloon  catheter  into  the  vessel 
and  inflating  it.  "The  first  angioplasty  was  done  in  1977,"  Kiernan 
says,  "but  the  procedure  did  not  take  off  in  the  United  States  until 
around  1980." 

The  benefits  of  angioplasty  are  two-fold,  he  notes.  First,  the 
inflated  balloon  compresses  plaque  against  the  walls  of  the  artery 
and  creates  a  channel  that  restores  more  normal  blood  flow.  The 
technique  is  often  used  to  restore  blood  flow  to  the  heart  after  a 
heart  attack  and  in  patients  with  angina,  a  condition  marked  by 
severe  chest  pain  caused  by  insufficient  oxygen  reaching  the  heart 
muscle. 

Second,  the  procedure,  which  requires  only  a  two-day  hospital 
stay,  can  help  patients  avoid  the  need  for  bypass  surgery,  which  re- 
quires a  week's  hospital  stay  and  at  least  six  weeks  of  home  recuper- 
ation. Kiernan  says  about  1,000  angioplasties  are  done  each  year  at 
Hartford  Hospital,  a  major  teaching  facility  in  central  Connecticut 
with  900  beds  and  a  large  program  in  cardiac  teaching  and  research. 

Kiernan  became  interested  in  interventional  cardiology  as  a  resi- 
dent at  Hartford  Hospital.  In  part,  he  says,  he  was  attracted  by  the 


prospect  of  helping  treat  and  diagnose  a  major  killer  of  Americans. 

"Heart  disease  is  a  major  source  of  mortality,"  he  says.  "We  see  it 

develop  in  people  in  their  40s — sometimes  in  their  30s.  Factors  such 

as  diet,  family  history  and 

smoking  are  among  its  •--,  _. 

leading  causes."  One  of  the         rRANCIS   KlKRNAN 

fastest  growing  fields  of  _. 

medicine,  it  is  also  one  X  ROBES      THE 

marked  by  constant  tech-  T  _ 

nological  developments.  JTlEARI     FOR 

Signs  of 
Disease 


"It's  a  very  technical  field,  in  terms 
of  equipment  and  concepts.  There 
are  lots  of  gadgets,"  he  notes  with 
pleasure. 

Kiernan  dates  his  interest  in  medi- 
cine to  his  days  as  a  life  sciences  major 
at  WPI.  "1  had  an  inkling  then  that  1 
might  want  to  do  this,"  he  says,  noting 
that  the  Institute  gave  him  some  of  the 
skills  he  finds  valuable  in  his  work  to- 
day. "WPI  taught  me  the  concept  of 
working  independently  to  think  out 
problems.  Each  patient  we  get  pre- 
sents a  new  set  of  challenges.  We  use 
the  knowledge  we've  gained,  and  the 
new  techniques  we  have  available,  to  make  things  go  smoothly." 

In  addition  to  overseeing  a  broad  program  of  diagnostic  and  ther- 
apeutic tests  at  the  hospital,  Kiernan  conducts  research  with  experi- 
mental devices.  He  says  he  got  his  first  taste  of  medical  research  at 
WPI.  For  his  Major  Qualifying  Project,  he  was  part  of  a  team  that 
studied  how  the  shape  of  red  blood  cells  changes  when  they  are 
affected  by  chemical  stress,  sickle  cell  anemia  and  enzyme  deficien- 
cies. The  results  of  the  project,  which  was  conducted  at  Saint 
Vincent  Hospital  in  Worcester,  were  published  in  the  journal  Blood. 
Currently,  Kiernan  is  studying  an  experimental  catheter  that  will 
remove  plaque  from  blocked  arteries.  Factors  that  increase  the  risk 
of  plaque  buildup  include  heredity,  high  blood  pressure,  high  cho- 
lesterol, smoking  and  diabetes.  "It's  an  experimental  rotational 
atherectomy  device  being  developed  by  one  of  the  angioplasty  man- 
ufacturers," he  says.  "We've  been  working  with  them  on  an  early 
prototype  to  help  refine  the  design." 

The  unique  device,  which  is  just  a  few  millimeters  in  diameter, 
consists  of  a  stainless  steel  mesh  coated  with  an  abrasive.  When 
attached  to  a  catheter,  it  will  be  used  to  shave  the  plaque  from  the 
artery  walls.  The  procedure  should  not  damage  a  normal  artery, 
Kiernan  says.  "It's  now  being  tested  in  the  lab,  but  not  yet  in 
patients.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  use  it  on  patients  within  a  year  or  so." 

—Carol  Campbell 


WPI  Journal 


37 


IE 


Iwas  always  interested  in  health-related  issues,  even  as  a  mechan- 
ical engineering  major,"  says  Carolyn  Jones  79,  an  industrial 
hygienist  for  the  Environmental  Health  and  Safety  Program  of  the 
Department  of  Public  Works  for  the  City  and  County  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. "In  fact,  my  plan  was  to  be  a  biomedical  engineer." 

But  Jones  had  a  change  of  heart  after  she  attended  a  conference 
on  women's  health  in  the  workplace  while  still  an  undergraduate. 
"That  was  where  1  discovered  industrial  hygiene  as  a  career  field," 


Carolyn  Jones  Protects 

Health  of  City  and  County 

Workers  in  San  Francisco 


she  says.  The  discipline  seemed  to  offer  an 
ideal  blend  of  engineering  and  health,  but 
none  of  the  companies  she  interviewed  with 
had  jobs  in  the  field. 

The  one  exception  was  the  Air  Force, 
which  offered  her  a  post  as  bioenvironmen- 
tal  engineer,  a  job  that  included  work  in  in- 
dustrial hygiene,  environmental  engineering 
and  emergency  response.  After  seven  years, 
she  left  active  duty  and  entered  the  reserves 
so  she  could  study  for  a  master's  degree  in 
public  health  with  a  concentration  in  indus- 
trial hygiene  at  the  University  of  California  at 
Berkeley.  She  then  worked  for  one  year  at  a 
public  utility  before  taking  her  present  posi- 
tion in  1989. 

Industrial  hygienists,  Jones  says,  "iden- 
tify, assess  and  recommend  controls  on 
workplace  hazards."  While  safety  engineers 
deal  with  physical  hazards  that  might  cause 
serious  injuries,  industrial  hygienists  evalu- 
ate environmental  hazards  like  toxic  chemi- 
cals, radiation,  noise  and  vibration.  They 
may  also  evaluate  ergonomic  hazards  that 
can  cause  conditions  like  carpal  tunnel  syn- 
drome. 

"Employee  training  is  also  a  large  part  of  our  job,"  she  notes. 
"We  teach  people  how  to  recognize  when  they  are  working  with  a 
hazardous  material  like  asbestos,  how  they  can  learn  about  such 
materials  and  their  hazards,  and  how  to  protect  themselves.  We 
teach  them  to  think  about  the  substances  they  work  with  so  if  they 
develop  medical  problems  or  symptoms  at  work,  they'll  know  what 
might  be  causing  them." 

When  employees  report  such  problems,  Jones  determines  the 
chemicals  contained  in  the  products  they  use  and  looks  at  the 
known  clinical  effects  of  those  chemicals.  She  may  take  air  samples 
to  measure  the  concentrations  of  the  chemicals  in  workplace.  If 


appropriate,  she'll  make  recommendations  to  reduce  worker  expo- 
sure, perhaps  by  substituting  a  different  product,  improving  ventila- 
tion, or  giving  workers  heavy-duty  gloves  or  respirators. 

Regulations  governing  permissible  workplace  exposure  to  chemi- 
cals are  promulgated  at  the  federal  and  state  levels,  Jones  says. 
"Exposure  limits  are  set  such  that  the  vast  majority  of  workers  will 
be  protected,  but  they  don't  guarantee  that  every  worker  will  be 
protected.  A  person  with  a  greater  than  average  sensitivity  to  a  par- 
ticular substance  might  have  problems  at  a  level  that  is 
perfectly  safe  for  everyone  else." 

Recently,  the  procedures  the  San  Francisco  DPW  uses  at 
two  specific  sites  to  minimize  worker  exposure  to  hazard- 
ous materials  were  evaluated  by  a  team  of  WPI  students 
completing  an  Interactive  Qualifying  Project  at  the  San 
Francisco  Project  Center.  The  project  was  one  of  three 
sponsored  by  the  department. 

"I  was  happy  to  see  that  the  students 
found  our  procedures  to  be  good,"  says 
Jones,  who  was  instrumental  in  arranging 
the  department  sponsorship.  "It  was  nice 
to  have  somebody  with  an  unbiased  opin- 
ion come  in  and  look.  All  three  projects 
worked  very  well." 

The  field  of  industrial  hygiene  was  first 
recognized  as  a  profession  in  the  1930s, 
Jones  says.  It  grew  slowly  until  1970,  when 
Congress  passed  the  Occupational  Safety 
and  Health  Act.  The  need  to  comply  with 
the  myriad  federal  regulations  that  resulted 
from  that  act  created  a  demand  for  indus- 
trial hygienists.  Today  there  are  about 
10,000  people  in  the  field  in  the  U.S. 
Many  work  for  large  companies, 
although  there  are  also  jobs  in  federal, 
state  and  local  governments,  consulting 
firms  and  academia.  "Industrial  hygienists 
come  from  all  sorts  of  backgrounds,  includ- 
ing environmental  sciences,  biology,  chem- 
istry and  engineering,"  Jones  says. 
"Chemical  engineering  is  good  preparation 
because 

it  helps  you  evaluate  chemical  processes. 
Mechanical  engineering  is  also  good  be- 
cause a  lot  of  the  work  industrial  hygienists  do  is  in  industrial  work- 
places and  mechanical  engineers  understand  the  processes  used  in 
these  environments." 

While  concern  within  government  and  industry  for  worker  safety 
and  health  has  increased  over  the  past  two  decades,  Jones  says  pub- 
lic opinion  has  lagged  behind.  "Unfortunately,  the  public  gets  far 
more  upset  about  environmental  hazards  than  they  do  about  work- 
place hazards.  They're  more  apt  to  act  if  they  think  that  a  company 
is  polluting  a  stream  than  if  they  think  a  company  is  harming  its  em- 
ployees. I  think  people  see  what  affects  them,  and  environmental 
hazards  affect  them  more  directly."  — Diane  Benison 


38 


Summer  1993 


L 


Dr.  William  AuBuchon  '82  has  often  demonstrated  that  he  is  not 
afraid  to  take  on  challenging  opportunities.  That  is  particularly 
true  in  his  choice  of  career  paths.  As  a  second-year  anesthesia  resi- 
dent in  training  at  Vanderbilt  University  Hospital  in  Nashville,  Tenn., 
he  often  makes  the  kind  of  split-second  decisions  that  can  only  be 
evaluated  in  hindsight.  He  says  he  is  accustomed  to  work  that  in- 
volves precise  calculations,  a  steady  hand,  and  clear,  quick  thinking. 

As  a  resident,  AuBuchon  has  also  become  accustomed  to  a  gruel- 
ing schedule,  which  includes  50-  to  90-hour  work  weeks  and  being  on 
call  every  fourth  night.  "I'm  usually  dressed  and  in  the  operating 
room  by  6  a.m.,"  he  says.  "I  may  remain  in  the  hospital  until  8  p.m. 
Some  days  I'm  on  call  for  25  hours.  I  generally  have  just  one  free 
weekend  a  month." 

He  is  involved  in  two  to  four  operations  a 
day,  each  spanning  from  30  minutes  to  four 
or  more  hours.  While  he  generally  does  not 
see  a  patient  again  once  a  procedure  is  com- 
plete, he  may  spend  several  hours  in  prepa- 
ration for  the  operation  the  evening  before. 
"I  have  to  do  a  history  and  physical  exam 
for  each  patient,  review  the  X-rays  and  lab 
work,  review  any  prior  diagnosis,  and  evalu- 
ate the  patient's  overall  medical  condition 
and  other  related  problems." 

The  next  morning  AuBuchon  helps 
prepare  the  patient  for  surgery  in  a  holding 
room  adjacent  to  the  operating  room.  "For  an 
uncomplicated  case,  we  insert  an  intravenous 
line  into  an  extremity  vein;  a  complex  case, 
such  as  a  liver  transplant,  requires  multiple 
lines  that  include  a  heart  monitor  inserted 
through  a  neck  vein  and  floated  into  the  heart 
chambers,"  he  says.  An  arterial  catheter, 
which  measures  blood  pressure,  is  inserted  directly  into  an  artery  in 
the  leg  or  arm  to  assure  continuous  accurate  readings.  The  catheter  is 
connected  to  an  electrical  transducer  that  is,  in  turn,  plugged  into  a 
display  screen. 

Throughout  an  operation,  the  anesthesiologist  is  constantly 
busy,  AuBuchon  says.  Each  operation  is  unique,  he  notes,  so  the 
anesthesiologist  must  prepare  an  individual  anesthetic  plan  for  each 
case — even  if  it  involves  a  procedure  he  may  have  done  many  times 
before.  The  length  of  the  case,  the  surgeon,  and  the  patient's  age, 
medical  problems  and  tolerance  for  certain  medications  and 
techniques  are  all  factors  that  must  be  considered  individually. 

Though  he  was  an  electrical  engineering  major  at  WPI,  AuBuchon 
focused  both  of  his  qualifying  projects  on  medicine.  For  his  Inter- 
active Qualifying  Project,  completed  at  Norton  Co.  in  Worcester, 
he  examined  ways  the  company  could  save  money  by  purchasing 
generic  rather  than  name-brand  drugs  for  its  employees.  He  also 
studied  several  programs  for  Norton,  including  the  feasibility  of 
establishing  a  company  drug  store  and  a  proposal  to  arrange  a 
discount  program  for  employees  at  a  local  pharmacy. 

For  his  Major  Qualifying  Project,  AuBuchon  was  part  of  a  team 
that  worked  with  biomedical  engineers  at  Saint  Vincent  Hospital  in 


Worcester  to  build  a  customized  Holter  Monitor,  a  portable  device 
used  in  cardiology  that  records  key  parameters  about  a  patient's 
heart  over  a  24-hour  period.  He  says  the  emphasis  of  the  WPI  Plan 
on  problem  solving  has  proved  valuable  in  his  profession.  "We  had 
to  take  facts  and  circumstances,  define  the  problem,  and  then  try  to 
master  it.  That's  what  I  do  in  my  work  now." 

After  AuBuchon  graduated 
from  the  Tufts  University 
School  of  Medicine  in  1986,  he 
and  his  wife,  Lesley,  moved  to 
Tennessee,  where  he  com- 
pleted an  internship  at  the 
University  of  Tennessee 


Split-Second 
Decisions 
Punctuate 
Long  Days 
for  Anes- 
thesiologist 
William 
AuBuchon 


Medical  Center  at  Knoxville.  In  1987 
he  entered  the  U.S.  Navy  as  a  gen- 
eral medical  officer  in  fulfillment  of 
his  Naval  scholarship  obligation. 
He  served  until  1992. 

As  part  of  his  naval  training,  he 
was  stationed  in  Pensacola,  Fla., 
where  he  attended  the  Naval  Aero- 
space Medical  Institute  and  studied  aviation  medicine.  He  also 
received  basic  cockpit  flying  instruction  "to  get  a  grasp  of  what 
pilots  undergo,  especially  under  stressful  conditions."  That  training 
proved  helpful  when  he  was  deployed  to  Saudia  Arabia  as  a  flight 
surgeon  with  a  Marine  Corps  helicopter  squadron  for  seven  months 
beginning  in  August  1992. 

AuBuchon  says  his  military  experience  has  proven  helpful  in  his 
work  as  an  anesthesiologist.  "Administering  anesthesia  requires  you 
to  think  on  your  feet,"  he  says.  "You  are  often  involved  in  procedures 
that  could  mean  life  and  death  for  the  patients.  It's  not  unlike  flying 
an  airplane.  It  requires  you  to  make  immediate,  rapid  responses, 
then  make  your  evaluations  based  on  what  happens." 

He  says  part  of  the  challenge  and  excitement  of  the  field  is  keep- 
ing up  with  the  constantly  changing  technology  available  to  anesthe- 
siologists. He  says  that  technology  has  changed  dramatically  since 
he  was  a  medical  student.  "In  1985  most  operating  rooms  were  not 
yet  using  devices  like  the  pulse  oximeter,  which  indicates  the 
fraction  of  oxygen  saturated  hemoglobin  in  the  bloodstream,  or  the 
mass  spectrometer,  which  measures  the  concentration  of  inhaled 
gases.  These  are  now  essential  tools." 

—Carol  Campbell 


WPI  Journal 


39 


ALU  Ml  Nil    IN 


IE  ID  II  C 


As  preclinical  program  manger  for  new  experimental  medical  de- 
vices at  Boston  Scientific  Corp.  in  Watertown,  Mass.,  Lauren 
Stratouly  Baker  '82  has  carved  out  a  unique  niche  for  herself  in  the 
halls  of  medicine. 

Baker,  who  has  been  with  Boston  Scientific  for  about  two  years, 
works  with  a  special  team  developing  information  the  Food  and 
Drug  Administration  requires  before  it  can  approve  clinical  trials  for 
new  medical  technology.  "These  devices  include  permanent  body 
implants  as  well  as  devices  that  are  in  the  body  for  only  a  short  time, 
such  as  the  balloon  catheters  used  by  cardiologists  to  do  angio- 
plasty," she  says. 


Lauren  Baker  Paves  the 
Way  for  Clinical  Trials 
of  New  Medical  Devices 


The  documents  Baker  prepares  describe  in  detail  the  results 
of  mechanical  tests  and  other  procedures  that  demonstrate  the  in- 
tegrity and  performance  of  the  new  devices.  Also  included  is  a  litera- 
ture review  that  shows  how  the  product  is  to  be  used  and  summa- 
rizes any  clinical  experience  that  may  have  been  gained  with  the 
product  in  other  countries. 

Finally,  the  FDA  submission  includes  a  clinical  investigation  plan, 
which  describes  how  the  human  clinical  trials  will  be  conducted. 
"These  submissions  are  quite  a  chore  to  develop,"  Baker  says. 
"Sometimes  I  think  they're  worse  than  writing  my  dissertation." 

Baker  is  also  responsible  for  supervising  all  clinical  trials  of 
Boston  Scientific  products  conducted  outside  the  U.S.  "This  facet  of 
my  job  has  enabled  me  to  take  several  trips  to  Europe.  This  is  partic- 
ularly challenging,  given  the  time  changes  and  language  barriers,  but 
the  trials  provide  our  development  team  with  vital  information  on 
product  performance." 

The  third  phase  of  Baker's  job  is  new.  She  says  she  is  developing 
a  testing  facility  the  company  can  use  to  evaluate  the  essential  per- 
formance of  its  products.  The  facility  will  ultimately  include  labora- 
tory models  of  a  number  of  physiological  systems — such  as  coron- 
ary arteries  or  gall  bladder  bile  ducts — in  which  or  upon  which 
Boston  Scientific  products  are  designed  to  operate. 

"This  aspect  of  my  job  utilizes  my  engineering  background  the 
most  and  consequently  offers  me  the  most  technical  challenge,"  she 
says.  "I  also  work  with  all  the  engineering  and  marketing  groups 
within  the  company,  as  well  as  with  many  outside  physicians." 

Before  joining  Boston  Scientific,  Baker  was  an  assistant  professor 
in  the  Department  of  Surgery  and  co-director  of  the  Division  of 
Cardiothoracic  Research  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Medical 
School  in  Worcester.  Her  job  there  was  devoted  to  research  on  the 
mechanics  of  the  heart.  In  that  post  she  was  involved  with  the 
design,  manufacture  and  maintenance  of  instrumentation  used  to 


monitor  heart  functions.  The  equipment  was  employed  in  research 
on  the  treatment  of  cardiovascular  disease. 

The  instrumentation  she  helped  develop  included  a  device  that 
monitors  tissue  pH  and  potassium  levels  during  cardiopulmonary  by- 
pass surgery,  a  balloon  catheter  that  can  be  inserted  into  the  heart 
through  the  pulmonary  artery  and  inflated  to  assist  a  failing  right  ven- 
tricle, a  catheter  that  uses  impedance  plethysmography  to  determine 
ventricular  volume,  and  a  noninvasive  cardiac  output  monitor. 

She  was  also 
involved  in  a  num- 
ber of  research 
projects  at  the 
medical  center. 
With  a  grant  from 
the  National 
Institutes  of 
Health,  she  helped 
investigate  the  ef- 
fects on  the  heart 
of  tumor  necrosis 
factor,  a  protein 
found  in  the  body 
that  destroys  cells 
that  divide  abnor- 
mally. Another 
project  tested  the 
use  of  warm  car- 
dioplegia (a  technique  in  which  the  heart 
is  temporarily  stopped)  during  coronary  bypass  surgery. 

As  a  faculty  member  at  UMass,  she  taught  the  techniques  of  sig- 
nal processing  and  data  acquisition  and  analysis  to  research  fellows, 
medical  students  and  graduate 

students  in  her  division,  and  developed  and  managed  a  database 
system  for  tracking  all  cardiovascular  surgery  patients.  She 
managed  and  hired  division  personnel,  designed  and  managed  the 
yearly  budget  of  the  division,  and  coordinated  the  preparation  of 
grant  proposals  and  manuscripts. 

Until  recently,  Baker  also  served  as  an  adjunct  assistant  profes- 
sor of  mechanical  engineering  at  the  Institute,  teaching  courses  in 
fluid  mechanics,  stress  analysis,  engineering  statics  and  biomedical 
engineering,  and  advising  graduate  and  undergraduate  research 
projects. 

Baker  earned  her  B.S.  in  chemical  engineering  at  WP1  and  went 
on  to  complete  a  master's  and  a  doctorate  in  mechanical  engineer- 
ing at  the  Institute.  In  1985,  she  won  WPI's  Outstanding  Thesis  of 
the  Year  award  for  her  master's  thesis,  "Noninvasive  Detection  of 
Arterial  Occlusive  Disease:  A  Theoretical  and  Model  Study."  For  her 
Ph.D.  dissertation,  she  developed  an  analytical  and  experimental 
model  to  study  the  propagation  of  a  pulse  through  an  artery  in 
healthy  and  diseased  individuals. 

Although  Baker  says  her  job  is  demanding,  she  and  her  husband, 
David  Baker  '81,  still  find  time  for  recreation.  They  enjoy  sculling  and 
are  officers  of  Friends  of  WP1  Rowing,  an  organization  established 
through  an  endowment  provided  by  the  late  Professor  Richard 


40 


Summer  1993 


L 


IE 


Fifteen  years  after  he  graduated  from  the  Institute,  Lt.  Cmdr. 
Thomas  M.  Gudewicz  78  remains  enthusiastic  about  WPI's 
project-based  education.  Now  in  the  third  year  of  a  four-year 
residency  at  the  Naval  Medical  Center  at  San  Diego,  he  is  one  of 
many  alumni  who  leveraged  their  technical  education  into  a  career 
in  medicine. 

Dr.  Gudewicz  had  been  accepted  to  WPI  by  the  time  he  gradu- 
ated from  high  school,  but  he  enrolled  as  a  mechanical  engineering 
major  at  the  University  of  Connecticut  because,  as  a  state  school,  it 
was  significantly  cheaper.  After  one  year  in  UConn's  traditional  engi- 
neering program,  Gudewicz,  unhappy,  dropped  out  and  took  a  job  as 
an  apprentice  machinist  at  Pratt  and  Whitney  to  earn  some  of  the 


money  he  needed  to  attend  WPI.  He  hadn't  abandoned  the  notion  of 
going  to  an  engineering  school,  he  just  wanted  a  different  kind  of  en- 
gineering school. 

"I  wanted  to  get  my  fingers  into  the  pie  as  soon  as  possible,"  he 
says.  "I'm  a  poor  book  learner,  but  give  me  a  practical  problem  and 
I'll  solve  it  and  learn  the  concepts  a  whole  lot  better.  I  loved  the  WPI 
Plan.  I  could  not  have  survived  college  if  it  were  not  for  the  Plan.  I'm 
sort  of  nontraditional  and  WPI  is  a  nontraditional  school." 


Thomas 

Gudewicz' 

Specialty 

is  How  THE 

Human  Body 

Works  Deep 

Beneath 

the  Sea 


By  the  time  Gudewicz  en- 
rolled at  WPI,  his  interest  in 
mechanical  engineering  had 
waned  (his  experience  at  Pratt 
&  Whitney  helped  him  decide 
the  field  was  not  for  him).  He 
ultimately  decided  to  major  in 
the  life  sciences  with  the  idea 
that  he'd  figure  out  a  way  to 
meld  that  field  with  his  already 
well-developed  love  of  the  un- 
dersea world. 

Stan  Waterman,  the  under- 
sea filmmaker,  was  a  friend  of 
one  of  Gudewicz'  high  school 
teachers  at  Wilbraham  and 
Monson  Academy  in  Wilbra- 
ham, Mass.  Periodically,  Waterman  stopped  by  the  school  to  show 
his  films.  Those  films  were  the  catalyst  that  prompted  Gudewicz  to 
get  certified  as  a  sport  scuba  diver;  they  also  started  him  on  a  path 
that  eventually  led  to  medicine  and  the  Navy. 

At  WPI,  his  love  for  diving  became  a  passion.  Three  or  four  times 
a  semester,  Gudewicz  made  the  two-hour  trek  to  Massachusetts' 
North  Shore  with  Ronald  Fish  78  and  William  Dino  75,  both  certified 
scuba  divers.  They'd  leave  campus  at  2  a.m.,  enter  the  water  while  it 
was  still  dark,  and  return  to  Worcester  in  time  for  8  a.m.  classes. 

His  interest  in  diving  helped  shape  his  studies.  "I  took  engineer- 
ing courses,"  he  says.  "I  took  chemistry,  biology,  physiology,  etc.  I 
did  an  IQP  in  marine  biology  and  an  MQP  in  biochemistry.  I  was  sort 
of  headed  toward  the  water  even  then."  He  also  found  time  for  an  in- 
dependent study  on  nitrogen  narcosis,  a  danger  for  scuba  divers. 

As  graduation  approached,  he  considered  his  options.  "I  really 
don't  want  to  go  to  graduate  school,"  he  remembers  thinking.  "I  re- 
ally don't  want  to  go  to  medical  school  right  now.  What  I  really  want 
to  do  is  get  a  job,  make  some  money,  and  live  a  life,  not  as  a  poor 
student,  but  as  a  normal  human  being." 

So  after  graduation  he  went  to  the  University  of  Texas  Medical 
Branch  in  Galveston,  Texas,  with  the  intention  of  working  with  Brian 
Hills,  a  chemical  engineer  who  had  done  thermodynamic  studies  of 
decompression  sickness.  But  when  Gudewicz  arrived,  he  discovered 
that  Hills'  grant  hadn't  been  approved.  There  was  no  job. 

He  used  his  chemistry  background  to  get  a  job  as  a  technician  in 
the  biochemistry  department  at  Baylor  College  of  Medicine.  "It  was 
there  that  I  was  introduced  to  a  working  research  laboratory,  to  lab- 
oratory management,  to  experimental  design,  to  instrumentation,  to 
writing  papers,  to  getting  grants,  and  so  on,"  he  says. 

He  says  his  life  sciences  education  had  prepared  him  well  for 
work  in  biochemistry.  "It  doesn't  really  matter  whether  you're  doing 
biology,  molecular  biology  or  biochemistry.  They  all  use  the  same 
techniques  nowadays — restriction  enzymes,  DNA  probes,  etc.  It's  a 
molecular  biology  approach  to  research.  People  in  all  of  the  life  sci- 
ences tend  to  understand  each  other." 

After  a  few  years,  he  decided  it  was  time  to  get  a  "real  career." 
He  was  accepted  to  the  University  of  Texas  Medical  Branch  in 


WPI  Journal 


41 


Galveston,  financing  his  medical  education  through  the  Armed 
Forces  Health  Profession  Scholarship  Program  (AFHPSP).  Under 
AFHPSP,  the  Navy  paid  his  tuition  and  fees,  bought  his  textbooks, 
and  gave  him  a  small  stipend;  in  exchange,  he  agreed  to  give  back 
one  year  of  military  service  for  each  year  of  education  he  received. 
The  Navy  program  was  appealing,  Gudewicz  says,  because  it  held 
the  prospect  of  work  in  underwater  research.  "I  figured,  the  Navy 
has  the  water— they're  the  guys  to  be  with." 

After  he  received  his  medical  degree  in  1986,  he  did  an  internship 
in  internal  medicine  at  the  Naval  Hospital  in  San  Diego.  Before  going 

on  to  a  residency,  he  chose  a  four-year  oper-     

ational  tour  in  undersea  medicine  as  part  of 
his  obligation  to  the  Navy.  His  tour  included 
a  six-month  program  at  the  Navy's  subma- 
rine training  center  in  Groton,  Conn.,  nine 
weeks  of  diving  training  at  the  Navy  Diving 
and  Salvage  Training  Command  (NDSTC)  in 
Panama  City,  Fla.,  and  four  months  of 
specialized  training  in  saturation  diving  at 
the  Naval  School  of  Deep  Diving  Systems 
(NSDDS)  in  Charleston,  S.C. 

"We  learned  a  little  bit  about  submarines 
and  submarine  medicine,"  he  says.  "Since  we 
have  nuclear  submarines,  we  also  learned 
something  about  radiation  health.  And,  since 
we're  going  to  be  dealing  with  divers,  they 
sent  us  down  to  a  course  in  diving  medicine. 
At  NDSTC  we  trained  in  all  Navy  diving  tech- 
niques, including  using  heliox  (helium- 
oxygen)  for  deep-sea  diving.  We  are  now  cer- 
tified Navy  divers.  We  can  go  anywhere  in  the 
world  where  the  Navy  dives,  be  issued  equip- 
ment, and  dive  with  Navy  divers." 

Gudewicz,  only  the  second  physician  to       

complete  the  course  at  NSDDS  in  Charles- 
ton, says  the  training  was  designed  to  prepare  him  for  his 
assignment  at  the  Commander  Submarine  Development  Group  I 
in  San  Diego,  created  by  the  Navy  after  the  loss  of  the  nuclear  sub 
Thresher  in  April  1963.  "It  consolidated  Navy  programs  involving 
submarines,  deep-submergence  vehicles  and  saturation  diving  tech- 
niques into  one  command  responsible  for  overseeing  the  develop- 
ment and  implementation  of  complex  systems  used  for  various 
operational  reasons,"  Gudewicz  says. 

Among  the  technologies  developed  by  the  San  Diego  group  are 
deep-submergence  vehicles  (DSVs),  which  can  carry  out  scientific 
and  salvage  operations  at  depths  down  to  15,000  feet;  deep-submer- 
gence rescue  vehicles  (DSRVs),  used  in  submarine  rescue  opera- 
tions; salvage  and  rescue  platforms  for  use  with  DSRVs;  and  equip- 
ment and  techniques  for  saturation  diving.  "The  whole  problem  with 
saturation  diving  is  that  when  you  do  a  dive  you  breathe  an  atmos- 
phere at  the  pressure  of  the  water  around  you,  so  your  tissues 
absorb  the  gases  at  that  pressure,"  he  says. 

"When  you  come  to  the  surface,  the  ambient  pressure  is  low, 
but  the  pressure  of  the  gases  within  your  tissues  is  high.  So  if  you 


ascend  too  rapidly,  the  gasses  bubble  out — it's  like  opening  a  bottle 
of  soda  pop."  Gas  bubbles  can  be  fatal,  he  adds. 

If  a  diver  works  under  pressure  for  only  a  short  time,  decompres- 
sion on  the  surface  poses  little  danger.  But  long  dives,  for  example 
salvage  operations  that  involve  numerous  long  dives  over  several 
days,  require  saturation  diving.  Such  operations  are  usually  carried 
out  by  several  teams  of  divers  who  work  in  shifts.  The  divers  are 
pressurized  at  the  surface  to  the  depth  at  which  they'll  be  working. 
They  remain  under  that  pressure  until  the  work  is  complete,  des- 
cending to  the  work  site  in  personal  transfer  capsules  (PTCs)  and  re- 
— — ^^— ^^—    turning  to  the  ship  to  rest  in  between  shifts 
"IJ/U  4-  'n  a  ^ec^  decompression  chamber. 

WtlCn  yOU  COme  tO  "That  is  much  more  cost-effective— and 

safer,"  he  says.  "When  the  job  is  done,  you 


the  SUffaCe,  the  ambient    decompress  the  divers  at  a  very,  very  slow 

rate.  Of  course  the  deeper  you  go  the  more 


pressure  is  low,  but  the 

pressure  of  the 
gasses  in  your  tissues 

is  high.  So  if  you 
ascend  too  rapidly,  the 
gasses  bubble  out- 
it's  like  opening  a 
bottle  of  soda  pop. " 


problems  there  are,  including  physiological 
problems.  That's  where  I  came  in." 

Recently,  Gudewicz  left  the  undersea 
world  to  pursue  additional  training  in 
pathology  and  laboratory  medicine.  His 
work  now  focuses  on  anatomical  and  clinical 
pathology.  He  says  one  of  the  reasons  he 
chose  pathology  is  because  it  "gives  you  a 
broad  view  of  medicine."  He  says  he  also 
enjoys  the  analytical  work. 

"Anatomical  pathology  has  to  do  with 
the  anatomical  manifestations  of  disease," 
he  says.  "Anytime  tissue  is  removed  from 
the  body  by  a  surgeon,  it  is  sent  to  us  for 
analysis  and  diagnosis.  We  are  physician 
consultants,  with  surgical  pathology  consti- 
tuting the  biggest  portion  of  this  field." 

Gudewicz  also  works  in  cytology,  which 
is  the  diagnosis  of  disease  based  on  the  mi- 
croscopic examination  of  cells.  "You  can  use  a  small  needle  to  aspi- 
rate a  few  cells,  and  then  look  at  those  cells  to  determine  important 
characteristics,  such  as  whether  they  are  malignant  or  benign.  You 
direct  therapy  from  there.  You  can  get  a  diagnosis  quickly,  but  you 
have  to  train  your  eye  to  distinguish  healthy  from  unhealthy  cells." 
Gudewicz  also  supervises  the  microbiology  lab,  the  blood  bank 
and  blood  component  therapy  and  does  analysis  of  blood  and  other 
body  fluids,  he  says.  "Years  ago,  the  clinical  pathologist  had  a  lot 
more  hands-on  work  to  do  in  these  analyses,  but  now  most  of  it  is 
automated.  Today,  we  have  to  be  familiar  with  the  problems  associ- 
ated with  the  answers  that  the  machines  generate  and  how  those 
problems  relate  to  the  clinician's  decision-making  process." 

When  he  finishes  his  residency,  Gudewicz  will  still  owe  the  Navy 
two  years.  After  that,  should  he  choose  to  continue  to  work  for  the 
service,  he  says  he  might  like  to  serve  at  a  naval  diving  training  unit 
or  at  the  Navy  Medical  Research  Institute  in  Bethesda,  Md.  But  wher- 
ever he  goes,  he'd  like  to  continue  to  do  research  into  the  way 
human  physiology  works  under  the  sea. 

—Diane  Benison 


42 


Summer  1993 


L 


IE  ID  II  C 


After  21  years  as  director  of  biomedical  engineering  at  the 
University  Medical  Center  in  Tucson,  Ariz.,  Emanuel  F.  Furst, 
who  received  his  Ph.D  from  WPI  in  1969,  says  he  is  once  again  asking 
himself  the  age-old  question,  "What  do  1  want  to  be  when  I  grow  up?" 
Since  his  position  was  eliminated  earlier  this  year — the  result  of  the 
merger  of  two  departments  at  the  hospital — he  has  been  preparing 
for  a  new  career  as  a  consultant. 

Furst  joined  the  faculty  of  the  University  Hospital  (now  the 
University  Medical  Center)  in  1972.  He  was  also  named  an  assistant 
professor  of  electrical  engineering  at  the  University  of  Arizona.  "I 
was  hired  to  bring  an  engineering  perspective  to  the  hospital  and  to 
develop  collaborative  research  and  teaching  programs  between  fac- 
ulty in  the  colleges  of  Engineering  and  Medicine,"  he  says.  "I  pro- 
vided consulting  in  areas  such  as  electrical  safety  and  the  use  of 
medical  equipment." 

He  taught  electrical  engineering  part  time  for  several  years.  His 
other  responsibilities  included  advising  the  hospital  on  the  types  of 
medical  equipment  it  needed,  making  sure  the  hospital  continued  to 
meet  the  requirements  for  accreditation,  and  investigating  unusual 
incidents  involving  medical  equipment  to  assure  that  similar  prob- 
lems would  not  occur  again. 

He  was  also  instrumental  in  developing  the  Shared  Service  Main- 
tenance Program  in  collaboration  with  the  University  of  Arizona's 
College  of  Engineering.  The  program  provided  maintenance  services 
and  engineering  consulting  to  rural  hospitals  in  Arizona,  freeing  the 
hospitals  from  reliance  on  manufacturers  to  repair  and  maintain 
equipment. 

This  is  especially  important  in  rural  areas  where  hospitals  are  far 
removed  from  manufacturers'  service  representatives,  resulting  in 
substantial  delays  and  increasing  the  cost  of  service  visits,  Furst 
says.  The  program  was  started  with  a  grant  from  the  W.K.  Kellogg 
Foundation.  The  grant  also  enabled  Furst  to  launch  an  academic 
program  in  clinical  engineering — a  field  that  merges  medicine  and 
engineering — at  the  university. 

Furst  says  it  was  his  expertise  in  equipment  management  and  reg- 
ulatory matters  that  led  him  to  consider  consulting.  He  says  his  inter- 
est in  regulatory  issues  includes  safety,  plant  and  equipment  manage- 
ment, and  requirements  for  obtaining  accreditation.  He  serves  on 
an  advisory  committee  of  the  Joint  Commission  on  Accreditation  of 
Health  Care  Organizations,  a  voluntary  agency.  Accreditation  qualifies 
hospitals  to  bill  through  the  Medicaid  system. 

At  the  University  Medical  Center,  Furst  says  he  also  developed  a 
great  deal  of  expertise  on  the  Safe  Medical  Devices  Act  of  1990,  an 
effort  of  Congress  and  the  Food  and  Drug  Administration  to  promote 
the  safety  of  medical  devices.  Since  1986,  he  has  served  on  an  FDA 
panel  that  reviews  applications  from  manufacturers  for  approval  for 
new  high-risk  medical  devices. 

He  says  these  experiences,  in  addition  to  his  work  at  the  Univer- 
sity Medical  Center,  have  convinced  him  of  the  value  of  having  an 
engineer  involved  in  the  evaluation  and  selection  of  new  technology 
for  hospitals.  "Many  hospitals  don't  take  full  advantage  of  what  engi- 
neers can  do  and  the  expertise  they  can  bring  to  hospital  manage- 
ment in  purchasing,  operating  budgets,  and  the  design  and  mainte- 
nance of  facilities,"  he  says. 


Furst  received  the  first  Ph.D.  in  biomedical  engineering  awarded 
by  WPI.  Before  coming  to  the  Institute,  he  received  his  bachelor's  de- 
gree at  Clarkson  University  and  his  master's  at  Columbia  University. 
He  then  worked  for  three  years  as  an  assistant  professor  at  California 
State  Polytechnic  University.  While  there,  he  received  a  National 
Science  Foundation  grant  to  attend  a  summer  graduate  program. 


After  a  Long  Career  in 

Clinical  and  Biomedical 

Engineering  in  Arizona, 

Emanuel  Furst  Tries 

Consulting 


For  two  summers,  he  came  to  WPI  to  take  graduate  courses. 
Then,  after  another  year  of  teaching,  he  enrolled  full  time  in  the 
Institute's  new  graduate  program  in  biomedical  engineering.  He  did 
his  dissertation  research  in  neurophysiology  at  the  Worcester 
Foundation  for  Experimental  Biology.  The  work  involved  recording 
the  signals  from  individual  neurons  in  the  cerebellum  that  respond 
to  the  body's  position  in  space. 

After  receiving  his  Ph.D.,  he  worked  for  three  years  as  a  develop- 
ment engineer  at  Hewlett-Packard  Co.  before  joining  the  University 
of  Arizona.  In  the  late  1980s,  Furst  was  honored  for  his  career 
achievements  in  biomedical  and  clinical  engineering  when  he 
received  the  Clinical  Engineering  Achievement  Award  from  the 
Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Medical  Instrumentation. 

—Carol  Campbell 


WPI  Journal 


43 


FINAL  WORD 


Chandler  Jones  is  Home  as 
Host  of  Venerable  Old  Cobb's  Tavern 


Nothing  makes  WPI  Trustee 
Emeritus  Chandler  Jones 
'26  happier  than  welcoming 
a  busload  of  school  children  to  his 
home,  Cobb's  Tavern,  a  National 
Register  of  Historic  Places  treasure 
built  in  Sharon,  Mass.,  about  1740. 
"I  love  having  visitors  come  by," 
he  says.  "If  I've  got  something  in- 
teresting to  show,  I  like  to  share  it. 
I  don't  like  to  hide  it  away.  The  tav- 
ern gives  kids  a  chance  to  see  how 
people  lived  in  the  old  days." 

With  help  from  local  history 
writer  Claire  Forman,  Jones 
recounts  his  tavern  tales  as  they 
guide  groups  around  the  12-room,  black- 
shuttered  colonial.  Their  presentations 
make  the  tavern  come  alive  for  guests  of 
every  age.  Listening  to  Jones,  it's  easy  to 
imagine  19th  century  innkeeper  Jonathan 
Cobb  pouring  spirits  in  the  taproom  refresh- 
ing weary  wayfarers  during  stagecoach  lay- 
overs. A  low  bench  in  front  of  the  15-foot 
pine  bar  allowed  male  travelers  to  sit  down 
before  the  fireplace  for  warmth. 

The  twin  doors  that  open  into  the  tap- 
room from  the  outside,  Jones  explains,  were 
deliberately  made  wide  enough  "so  a  couple 
of  jolly  fellows  could  go  out  arm  in  arm,  side 
by  side." 

Female  travelers  of  the  day  were  not  al- 
lowed to  drink  in  the  taproom;  women  were 
customarily  relegated  to  an  upstairs  parlor 
reached  via  a  winding,  pulpit-style  staircase. 
Legend  has  it,  however,  that  Deborah  Samp- 
son, a  Sharon  Revolutionary  War  veteran, 
met  with  Paul  Revere  in  the  taproom  to  talk 
about  her  getting  a  pension  for  her  military 
service. 

The  tavern  stood  between  Boston  and 
Taunton  on  the  Old  Bay  Road,  a  link  be- 
tween Massachusetts  Bay  and  Narragansett 
Bay,  Jones  says.  It  was  a  busy  place  with  a 
lot  of  traffic  on  Bay  Road  going  to  Taunton 
and  on  to  New  York.  It  was  also  an  ideal 


stopping  point  for  coaches  carrying  the 
mail;  in  fact,  Jonathan  Cobb  served  as 
Sharon's  postmaster  and  the  taproom  dou- 
bled as  a  post  office  (the  post  office  sign 
now  hangs  over  the  fireplace). 

In  those  days,  Cobb's  offered  overnight 
accommodations  with  rooms  in  the  main 
tavern  and  an  annex.  It  was  the  biggest  inn 
in  the  East,  and  for  a  number  of  years  a  125- 
member  traveling  circus  troupe  stopped 
there  every  summer  and  performed  on  the 
grounds.  The  inn  was  large  enough  to  put  up 
the  entire  troupe.  An  1846  poster  in  the  tap- 
room commemorates  one  of  the  group's 
many  visits. 

On  their  annual  "Wheel  Around  the  Hub," 
members  of  the  famous  Boston  Bicycle  Club 
made  Cobb's  Tavern  their  country  headquar- 
ters, all  enjoying  Mrs.  Cobb's  dinners.  Two 
years  ago,  the  present-day  Wheelman's  Club 
recreated  a  portion  of  the  first  organized  bi- 
cycle tour  ever  held  in  the  U.S.  on  Sept.  11, 
1879,  and  made  the  traditional  stop  at  Cobb's. 

According  to  Jones,  the  original  house 
was  built  in  the  mid-18th  century;  a  two- 
chimney  brick  end-addition  was  added 
about  60  years  later.  A  large  upstairs  room 
with  a  unique  barrel-vaulted  ceiling  served 
successively  as  a  Masonic  lodge  meeting 
room,  a  ballroom  and  two  bedchambers.  In 


1895,  after  more  than  150  years 
of  service,  the  tavern  closed  to 
the  public  when  Jonathan's  son, 
Warren,  died. 

In  1935,  upon  the  death  of 
Warren's  daughter,  Gertrude 
Cobb,  the  tavern  left  the  family 
for  the  first  time  in  144  years. 
Fortunately,  one  of  the  subse- 
quent owners  appreciated 
historical  homes.  Frederick  S. 
Tobey  wrote  The  Tavern  at 
Cobb's  Comer,  which  is  on  file  in 
the  Library  of  Congress  along 
with  nine  photographs. 

Chandler  Jones  and  his  wife, 
Dorothy  (now  deceased),  purchased  Cobb's 
Tavern  in  1959.  "We  loved  the  place  right 
away,"  he  says.  "But  we  had  somewhat  of  a 
dilemma  because  I  was  about  to  retire  and 
we  had  to  reduce  our  real  estate  holdings. 
Through  my  family  I  had  inherited  the  Cape 
Cod  birthplace  of  Katherine  Lee  Bates,  who 
wrote  America  the  Beautiful,  and  my  wife 
had  acquired  her  great  grandmother's  old 
homestead  in  South  Berwick,  Maine.  In  the 
end,  the  tavern  won  out." 

Continuing  the  restoration  of  the  tavern, 
which  was  begun  by  Tobey,  became  a  labor 
of  love  for  Jones.  Guided  by  extensive  re- 
search and  reading,  he  was  careful  to  make 
sure  all  work  done  on  the  sturdy  structure 
conformed  to  the  original  construction. 
When  part  of  the  roof  was  replaced,  he  even 
saved  the  original  hand-wrought  iron  nails, 
in  case  they  would  ever  be  needed  to 
restore  the  inn's  finish. 

More  than  30  years  after  the  purchase, 
Jones  is  still  enjoying  life  in  his  tavern-home, 
especially  reading  the  thank-you  letters  he 
often  gets  from  grade-schoolers  after  his 
guided  tours.  He  still  chuckles  over  the  note 
he  received  a  couple  of  years  ago  from  a  fifth- 
grade  boy  who  wrote,  "You  are  a  real  kind 
person  and  you  are  in  really  good  condition 
for  your  age.  Thank  you  for  everything." 


44 


Summer  1993 


At  90,  Chandler  Jones  can  look  back  over 
nearly  seven  decades  of  achievement,  most 
of  it  far  removed  from  tavern-keeping.  After 
graduating  from  WPI  as  an  electrical  engi- 
neer, he  joined  the  New  England  Power 
Construction  Co.  of  Worcester  (now  the 
New  England  Electric  System),  where  he 
concentrated  on  engineering,  purchasing, 
construction,  safety,  labor  and  operations. 
He  retired  as  vice  president  of  the  New 
England  Electric  System  in  1968. 

During  World  War  II,  Jones  was  on  loan 
to  the  U.S.  government  as  a  $l-a-year  consul- 
tant with  the  Office  of  War  Utilities,  War 
Production  Board.  He  was  also  a  consultant 
to  the  Civilian  Production  Administration, 
the  National  Security  Resources  Board,  the 
Mutual  Security  Agency  and  the  Economic 
Cooperation  Administration. 


During  the  Korean  conflict,  he  was  on 
loan  as  a  consultant  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior  to  help  organize  the  Defense  Electric 
Power  Administration  and,  later,  to  the 
Atomic  Energy  Commission's  Advisory 
Committee  on  Reactor  Safeguards. 

Jones  was  a  professional  engineer  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, Vermont  and  Rhode  Island  and 
has  been  active  in  numerous  local,  state  and 
national  organizations.  After  he  retired,  he 
helped  organize  the  Sharon  Historical  Com- 
mission and  a  historic  district  in  the  town. 


Opposite  page,  Chandler  Jones  tells 
visiting  schoolchildren  about  the 
history  of  Cobb's  Tavern.  The  1 8th 
century  inn,  below,  left,  was  once  a 
stop  on  the  "Wheel  Around  the  Hub," 
an  annual  tour  by  the  Boston  Bicy- 
cle Club,  top.  Bottom,  right,  Jones 
shows  off  one  of  the  unwieldy  bicy- 
cles ridden  by  club  members. 

A  former  member  of  the  President's 
Advisory  Council,  Jones  is  also  a  past  chair- 
man of  the  Development  Committee  of  the 
WPI  Board  of  Trustees  and  a  past  president 
of  the  Boston  and  Providence  chapters  of 
the  Alumni  Association.  In  1970  he  received 
WPI's  Herbert  F.  Taylor  Alumni  Award  for 
Distinguished  Service. 

For  now,  Jones  is  content  to  preside  over 
the  venerable  old  tavern  he  calls  home  and 
to  help  give  the  youth  of  today  a  look  at  how 
their  ancestors  lived  and  enjoyed  life.  In  the 
conclusion  of  his  book  on  Cobb's  Tavern, 
Frederick  Tobey  wrote,  "whether  or  not  the 
Tavern  at  Cobb's  Corner  will  have  any  future 
history  worth  recording  remains  to  be  seen." 
Thanks  to  Jones  and  his  dedication  to  keep- 
ing a  bit  of  the  past  alive  for  future  genera- 
tions, the  inn  continues  to  make  history 
quite  worthy  of  note. 

—Ruth  Trask 


WPI  Journal 


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VOLUME  XCVI  NO.  4    FALL  1993 


■'     1992 
•  ANNUAL  5 

-_  cram;-: 


AMERICA'S 

BEST  COLLEGES 


AMHERST 

WJU. 
HOLY  CROSS 


The  Cover:  The  WPI  campus  is  framed 
by  fall  splendor.  Efforts  now  under  way 
are  aimed  at  determining  what  the 
campus — and  the  social  and  intellectu- 
al life  that  thrives  within  its  bounds — 
should  be  like  in  the  decades  to  come. 
Photo  by  Northeast  Airfoto  Service. 
Opposite:  At  the  conclusion  of  a  long 
and  productive  year  of  study,  planning 
and  open  debate,  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task 
Force  held  an  all-day  forum  in  Alden 
Memorial  to  share  its  findings  with 
members  of  the  WPI  community  and  to 
actively  solicit  their  help  in  shaping 
the  group's  final  recommendations  to 
the  Board  of  Trustees.  Photo  by  Neil 
Norum.  Story  on  page  3. 


EDITOR'S  NOTE:  Each  summer  the  Institute  pauses  a  moment  to  reflect  on 
where  it's  been  and  where  it's  going.  As  one  fiscal  year  ends  and  a  new 
one  begins,  it  seems  a  natural  time  to  look  back  at  the  accomplishments  of  the 
previous  12  months  and  to  peer  ahead  at  the  challenges  and  opportunities  that 
lie  just  over  the  horizon.  The  result  of  this  reflection  is  the  annual  report.  To 
place  this  year's  report  into  the  hands  of  as  large  a  readership  as  possible, 
we've  chosen  to  include  it  in  the  Fall  issue  of  the  WPI  Journal. 

As  you  will  read  in  the  pages  that  follow,  this  seems  an  especially  fitting  deci- 
sion. In  Fiscal  Year  1993,  the  college  completed  a  major  period  of  self-evaluation 
and  began  the  weighty  task  of  determining  how  it  will  mold  itself  into  the  type 
of  institution  best  able  to  thrive  and  grow  in  the  decades  ahead.  To  be  success- 
ful in  this  process,  the  Institute  will  need  the  participation  and  enthusiasm  of  all 
members  of  the  WPI  community.  It  will  also  need  to  keep  that  community 
informed  about  how  things  are  going  here  on  Boynton  Hill.  Consider  this  report 
an  integral  part  of  that  communications  effort. 

We  hope  you  enjoy  this  special  issue  of  the  Journal;  as  always,  we  welcome 
your  thoughts  and  opinions  on  what  you  find  between  the  covers  of  this  magazine. 

—  Michael  Dorsey 

FEATURES 

The  1992-93  Annual  Report  JonC. Strauss 


Introduction:  What's  Next  for  WPI? 


2 

0  A  Rough  Draft  of  the  Future:  Building  on  the  Work  of  the 
Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force 

13  The  Year  in  Review,  1992-93:  Setting  the  Stage  for  the  Future 


DEPARTMENTS 

11    Financial  Summary 

A  look  at  the  Institute's  financial  performance  in  FY  93.    Robert  W.  Galley 

\L    Financial  Highlights 

The  fiscal  year  at  a  glance. 

L\)   Development  Highlights 

Saving  the  best  for  last.    Donald  F.  Berth  '57 

LL   Honor  Roll  of  Donors 

Giving  to  WPI:  1992-93. 


Staff  of  the  WPI  Journal:  Editor,  Michael  W.  Dorsey  •  Contributing  Writers.  Diane  Benison.  Bonnie  Gelbwasser,  Joan  Killough-Miller,  Neii  Norum  and  Ruth  Trask  •  Designer,  Michael  J.  Sherman  • 
Photographer,  Janet  Woodcock.  Alumni  Publications  Committee:  Samuel  Mencow  '37,  chairman  •  Paul  J.  Cleary  71  •  James  S.  Demetry  '58  •  Judith  Donahue  SIM  '82  •  William  J.  Firla  Jr.  '60  • 
William  R.  Grogan '46  •  Carl  A.  Keyser  '39  •  Robert  C  Labonte  '54  •  Roger  N.  Perry  Jr. '45  •  Harlan  B.  Williams '50  •  The  WPI  Journal  (ISSN  0148-6128)  is  published  quarterly  lor  the  WPI  Alumni 
Association  by  the  Office  of  University  Relations.  Second-class  postage  paid  at  Worcester,  Mass.,  and  additional  mailing  offices.  Printed  by  The  Lane  Press,  Burlington,  Vt.  Printed  in  the  U.S.A. 

Diverse  views  presented  in  this  magazine  do  not  necessarily  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  editors  or  official  WPI  policies.  We  welcome  letters  to  the  editor.  Address  correspondence  to  the  Editor,  WPI  Journal, 
WPI,  100  Institute  Road,  Worcester,  MA  01609-2280.  Phone:  (508)  831-5609,  FAX:  (508)  831-5604,  Electronic  Mail  (Internet),  mwdorsey@wpi.wpi.edu.  Postmaster:  If  undeliverable,  please  send  form  3579 
lo  the  address  above.  Do  not  return  publication.  Entire  contents  ©  1993,  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute. 


Introduction 


What's  Next  for  WPI? 


THIS  ANNUAL  REPORT,  the  eighth  in  the  series  spanning  my 
presidency,  focuses  on  the  work  of  WPI's  Blue  Ribbon  Task 
Force  (BRTF).  The  BRTF,  with  its  membership  drawn  from 
faculty,  staff,  students  and  trustees,  was  charged  in  1992  with 
developing  a  comprehensive  plan  that  will  take  the  Institute  through 
the  1990s  and  beyond.  The  plan  was  to  be  consistent  with  the  goals 
of  our  strategic  plan  and  was  to  give  particular  attention  to  the  chal- 
lenging financial  environment  in  which  we  must  operate. 

1  proposed  this  topic  in  last  year's  annual  report  because  of  its 
importance  to  WPI's  future — and  our  future  is  what  this  essay 
series  has  been  about.  The  series  began  seven  years  ago  when  I  set 
forth  an  agenda  for  achieving  strategic  excellence  at  WPI.  In  each 
successive  year,  I  have  commented  on  some  aspect  of  our  progress 
on  that  agenda. 

Along  the  way,  I've  reviewed  the  five-year  plans  of  our  academic 
departments,  the  progress  made  on  those  plans,  the  Institute's  stra- 
tegic planning  process,  the  strategic  plan  that  resulted  from  that 
process,  and  our  encouraging  progress  in  implementing  the  strate- 
gic plan  despite  the  growing  challenges  we  face.  The  series  culmi- 
nated last  year  with  a  report  on  how  our  own  perspectives  on  this 
progress  were  validated  by  our  decennial  regional  accreditation. 

The  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  ushered  in  a  new  era  of  community 
involvement  in  the  planning  of  WPI's  future  and,  perhaps  more 
important,  in  the  implementation  of  those  plans.  That  spirit  of  par- 
ticipation, particularly  as  it  affects  how  the  Institute  will  act  on  the 
task  force's  recommendations,  is  reflected  in  this  year's  report. 

The  work  of  the  BRTF  was  a  major  accomplishment.  But  as  the 
members  of  the  task  force  are  the  first  to  proclaim,  that  is  not  be- 
cause they  satisfied  completely  their  charge  to  develop  a  compre- 
hensive plan  for  the  Institute.  Rather,  it  is  because  this  group  of 
faculty  and  staff  members,  students  and  trustees 

—  first,  confirmed  that  we  face  vexing,  largely  externally  imposed 
financial  problems, 

—  then,  developed  a  framework  for  attacking  those  problems  in  the 
contexts  of  quality  of  life,  academic  experience  and  financial 
equilibrium, 

—  and  finally,  established  a  collegial,  participatory  process  that 
encouraged  all  members  of  the  campus  community  to  take  part. 
(That  process — and  the  goodwill  it  engendered — may  be  the 
greatest  hallmarks  of  the  BRTF.) 

These  accomplishments  are  the  prelude  to  a  very  challenging  task. 
Now  we  must  organize  follow-on  cooperative  activities  that  will  pro- 
duce specific  plans  to  implement  the  BRTF's  recommendations  for 
improving  the  quality  of  life  and  the  academic  experience  at  WPI 
while  achieving  the  financial  equilibrium  necessary  for  our  future 
well-being. 

—Jon  C.  Strauss 


^: 


■■Ml 


A  Rough  Draft  of  the  Future 


Building  on  the  Work  of  the 
Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force 


By  Jon  C.  Strauss 
President 


0' 

V.X   tie 


n  Feb.  28,  1992,  I  charged  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force 
(BRTF)  with  evaluating  both  the  challenges  we  face  as 
an  institution  of  higher  education  and  the  opportuni- 
ties we  might  be  ready  to  seize,  given  our  unique  aca- 
demic program  and  our  considerable  human  resources.  Then, 
having  laid  this  foundation,  the  task  force  was  to  propose  an 
overarching  plan  to  guide  WPI  along  the  road  from  what  we 
are  today  to  what  we  must  become  if  we  are  to  excel  in  the 
world  of  the  next  few  decades. 

Over  the  following  15  months,  the  task  force  undertook 
this  prodigious  assignment.  After  first  defining  their  mission 
and  their  method  of  attack,  they  established  subcommittees 
to  study  the  various  financial  issues  that  impinge  on  the 
Institute's  future  and  completed  an  extensive  benchmarking 
study  that  measured  our  progress  toward  the  six  goals  of 
our  strategic  plan  against  what  our  competitors  have  accom- 
plished in  similar  areas. 

In  February  1993,  the  task  force  gave  the  WPI  community 
Drogress  report  in  the  form  of  two  open  meetings  on  cam- 

ic    ^nrl    q    rM-oonntatirin    tn    tin  a    Ri-voi-H    r\(   TVi  ?^+aac      In     A  r\vil 


pus  and  a  presentation  to  the  Board  of  Trustees.  In  April, 
task  force  members  held  numerous  small-group  meetings 
with  the  various  constituents  that  collectively  make  up  WPI. 
In  May,  the  community  had  another  chance  to  contribute  to 
the  planning  process  as  the  BRTF  held  an  all-day  campus 
meeting  to  present  its  findings  and  solicit  input  from  the 
nearly  300  faculty,  staff  and  students  who  attended. 

The  task  force  spelled  out  its  recommendations  on 
WPI's  future  in  Positioning  WPI  for  the  21st  Century,  its  final 
report,  presented  to  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees  on  May  21,  1993.  At  right,  we've  reprinted  the 
report's  executive  summary.  In  the  following  pages,  I 
quote  from  many  of  the  task  force's  specific  recommen- 
dations. As  I  go  along,  I  explain  the  steps  being  taken  to 
evaluate  and  implement  those  recommendations. 

In  the  conclusion  to  its  final  report,  the  BRTF  urged 
that  the  next  phases  in  WPI's  evolution— the  activities 
that  will  translate  the  task  force's  recommendations  into 
a  plan  of  action — "be  organized  and  assigned  by  the 
administration  to  appropriate  groups,  keeping  in  mind 
the  necessity  to  maintain  community  involvement  and 
collegiality  in  the  process." 

The  specific  implementation  processes  I  describe 
below  are  consistent  with  that  request.  They  are  pre- 
sented along  with  the  task  force  recommendations 
themselves  in  the  categories  of  Quality  of  Life,  Aca- 
demic Experience  and  Financial  Equilibrium. 


Executive  SummaryoftheBRTF 

The  world  of  the  ?/w  ,a  , 

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WPI  Journal 


The  BRTF  recommended: 

•  That  all  sectors  of  the  Institute  adopt  proactive 
communication  mechanisms,  including  all<am- 
pus  forums. 

•  That  all  sectors  of  the 
Institute — administration, 
faculty,  students  and  staff 
— recognize  the  impor- 
tance of  such  concepts  as 
shared  governance  and  community  consensus. 

Consistent  with  these  recommendations — and  the 
corresponding  practices  established  by  the  BRTF 
itself — the  Community  Council  will  serve  as  the 
steering  committee  for  the  collegial  implementa- 
tion of  the  BRTF  recommendations,  much  as  it  did 
this  past  year  for  the  recommendations  of  the 
Commission  on  Residential  and  Social  Life.  The 
council,  a  representative  body  of  faculty,  staff  and 
students,  will  schedule  periodic  open  campus 
meetings  to  review  the  progress  of  the  various 
groups  assigned  responsibility  for  specific  recom- 
mendations and  tasks. 

•  That  the  Institute  address  the  recognized  urgent 
need  for  a  campus  center.  We  recognize  that 
learning  does  not  occur  only  in  the  classroom 
and  that  the  needs  of  our  students  (as  recom- 
mended by  the  Commission  on  Residential  and 
Social  Life)  be  seriously  considered.  Invest- 
ments will  be  needed  to  attain  these  objectives. 

No  one  questions  the  priority  of  the  proposed 
campus  center  project.  The  Physical  Facilities 
Committee  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  is  reviewing 
conceptual  designs  for  two  of  the  campus  center 
concepts  developed  by  Earl  Flansburgh  &  Asso- 
ciates. These  are  a  freestanding  structure  and  a 
gateway/connector  that  might  link  to  Daniels 
and/or  Sanford  Riley  halls. 

Further,  the  trustee  Development  Committee 
has  begun  to  identify  potential  sources  for  the 
necessary  funding.  WPI's  Office  of  Student  Affairs, 
the  undergraduate  Student  Government  Asso- 
ciation and  the  Graduate  Student  Organization 
will  coordinate  faculty,  staff  and  student  involve- 
ment in  this  work. 

•  That  the  parking  needs  of  our  campus  be 
addressed  in  a  systematic  and  timely  manner. 

WPI's  Parking  Committee  will  be  reinstituted  as 
soon  as  possible  with  a  charge  to  organize  a  cam- 
puswide  review  of  all  options.  It  will  be  asked  to 
develop,  in  cooperation  with  the  trustees'  Physi- 
cal Facilities  Committee,  specific,  financially  feasi- 
ble parking  plans. 

•  That  the  Institute  invest  in  education  and  train- 
ing of  the  work  force. 

This  recommendation  reminds  us  again  of  the 
apparent  dichotomy  of  an  institution  devoted  to 
the  education  of  others,  and  yet  seeming  to 
ignore  the  educational  needs  of  its  own  work 
force.  While  progress  has  been  made  to  liberalize 
the  tuition  remission  benefit  for  our  staff,  and 


u..vi 


though  extensive  training  in     n 
total  quality  management 
has  been  under  way  in  the 
Office  of  Business  Affairs, 
more  needs  to  be  done. 

The  Human  Resources 
Office  has  been  directed  to 
review  training  needs  in  gen- 
eral and  to  begin  immediately 
a  new  staff  orientation  pro- 
gram. The  Office  of  Academic 
Affairs  continues  to  improve 
the  new  faculty  and  adminis- 
trative staff  orientation  pro- 
gram and  is  working  with  Bus- 
iness Affairs  and  Human  Re- 
sources to  organize  a  training 
program  for  new  department 
heads. 

•  That  efforts  be  directed  at  inte- 
grating   the    students    and 
resources  of  the  graduate  pro- 
gram into  the  mainstream  of 
the  WPI  community. 

Mike  Shipulski,  president  of  the 
Graduate  Student  Organization, 
has  articulated  strongly  the 
needs  and  attitudes  of  the  Insti- 
tute's graduate  students.  Dean  of 
Students  Janet  Begin  Richardson 
and  the  new  dean  of  graduate 
studies  and  research  will  be  work- 
ing with  the  GSO  to  address  this 
issue. 

•  That  the  emphasis  on  globalization  and  respect 
for  diversity  that  we  have  already  launched  be 
continued  and  increased. 

Globalization  is  seen  by  virtually  everyone  as  a 
strategic  priority  for  WPI.  The  Office  of  Academic 
Affairs  is  seeking  to  expand  our  global  projects 
program  and  may  market  to  students  at  other 
institutions  the  opportunity  to  do  project  work 
abroad  next  year.  Good  progress  has  been  made 
on  student  and  staff  diversity,  and  a  new  Plur- 
alism Action  Plan,  to  be  implemented  in  the  1993- 
94  academic  year,  will  help  increase  respect  and 
appreciation  for  difference  throughout  the  WPI 
community. 


Fall  1993 


uaMu«Huai  •SBBKBBS83&&&8& 


'Quality  is  what  we  sell.  In  the  coming  decades,  we 
must  consistently  strive  to  make  a  WPI  education 
the  best  there  is  in  an  ever  more  competitive  world. 
However,  quality  of  programs  is  not  enough.  The 
social  environment  and  the  quality  of  the  workplace 
must  be  improved  for  the  entire  WPI  community." 

A  member  of  the  dance  troupe  Message  From  Our  Ancestors  performs  at  WPI's  first  African 
Marketplace  in  the  spring  of  1993.  To  improve  the  quality  of  life  for  all  members  of  the  WPI 
community,  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  recommended  expanding  WPI's  globalization  and 
diversity  efforts.  Other  recommendations  included  building  a  campus  center,  improving  com- 
munications on  campus,  investing  in  the  education  of  WPI  employees,  and  finding  solutions 
to  the  Institute's  parking  problems. 


'WPI's  educational  program  is  still  relevant  and  appropriate 
to  the  needs  of  the  2 1  st  century.  However,  it  appears  un- 
likely that  WPI  can  hope  for  much  expansion  from  its  current 
engineering  and  science  base.  A  broadening  of  its  programs 
in  emerging  interface  technologies  and  the  development  of 
new,  technically  based  initiatives  are  necessary." 

At  the  start  of  the  school  year  last  fall,  a  student  searches  the  bookstore  for  texts  he'll  need  for  his  courses. 
With  regard  to  the  Institute's  academic  program,  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  recommended  that  WPI  become 
a  technologically  based,  comprehensive  university,  broadening  its  scope  to  include  a  greater  role  for  disci- 
plines like  the  humanities  and  the  social  sciences,  and  developing  the  flexibility  to  respond  to  society's  needs 
by  offering  unique,  interdisciplinary  majors. 


,Jva**M 


The  BRTF  recommendations  in  this  area  can  be 
grouped  as  follows: 

•  That  the  WPI  of  the  21st  century  be  a  technologi- 
cally based,  comprehensive  university. 

•  That  the  concepts  of  the  Plan 
be  broadened  to  extend  to 
humanists  who  need  to  func- 
tion in  a  technological  world. 


' «  i 


69^m 


•  That  WPI's 
'broadening'  include  a  more 
vital  role  for  the  Humanities  and 
Social  Science  and  Policy  Stud- 
ies departments  in  contributing 
to  these  emerging  interface  tech- 
nologies in  generating  revenue 
by  offering  unique  technology- 
based  majors  in  these  disci- 
plines (technical  journalism, 
technical  theater,  environmen- 
tal law,  etc.).  We  also  recom- 
mend a  more  vital  role  for  such 
departments  as  Management. 

•  That  WPI  develop  an  organization- 
al structure  and  mindset  that  can 
respond  to  society's  needs.  We 
must  have  a  flexible  curriculum  to 
respond  to  industry's  needs  and  stu- 
dent interests. 

•  That  WPI  invest  in  and  expand  its 
globalization  programs  across  the 
curriculum. 

<  We  confirm  the  work  of  the  Com- 
mission on  Innovative  Graduate  Edu- 
cation and,  in  addition,  recommend 
that  WPI's  graduate  programs  incor- 
porate a  global  perspective  through- 
out the  curriculum.  This  may  be  ac- 
complished through  internships,  such 
as  graduate  co-op  experiences,  or 
through  internships  within  industries 
that  have  global  interactions. 


•  That  our  existing  co-op  programs  and 
internships  be  redefined  and  expanded. 
Furthermore,  we  see  international 
internships  as  a  distinct  advantage  that 
could  help  WPI  take  a  leadership  posi- 
tion in  setting  the  course  for  a  globally 
oriented,  technologically  based  educa- 
tion for  the  nation. 

<  That  the  continuing  education  program  be 
expanded  and  strengthened.  We  also  recom- 
mend that  WPI  investigate  the  potential  for  a 
part-time  undergraduate  program  for  the  adult- 
learner  sector  of  our  society. 


•  That  WPI's  programs  have  flexibility  and  be 
responsive  to  student  program  needs. 

We  can  summarize  by  the  following: 

WPI  of  the  21st  century  must  take  advantage  of 
its  strength  in  technology  and  broaden  along  tech- 
nical lines.  It  must  be  sensitive  to  the  needs  of  its 
customers,  both  with  respect  to  educational  needs 
and  financial  needs.  It  must  be  flexible  program- 
matically  to  meet  these  needs  and  to  produce  a 
higher-quality  program  at  a 
lower  consumer  cost.  The 
WPI  faculty,  administration 
and  staff  must  respond  rapid- 
ly and  effectively  to  focused 
education  initiatives.  The  institution  must  be  pre- 
pared to  provide  resources.  The  administration, 
faculty  and  staff  must  work  as  a  team  to  success- 
fully respond  to  these  initiatives. 

The  truly  exciting  aspect  of  these  recommenda- 
tions is  the  focus  they  place  on  the  major  thrusts 
of  WPI's  strategic  plan.  The  challenge,  however,  is 
that  while  these  recommendations  will  clearly 
increase  WPI's  attractiveness,  they  may  act  more 
to  protect  existing  enrollments  and  revenue  than 
to  generate  additional  net  revenue.  And  nearly  all 
of  the  recommendations  call  for  more  resources. 
In  the  absence  of  additional  revenue,  the  Institute 
will  have  to  fund  their  implementation  by  real- 
locating resources  from  existing,  presumably 
lower-priority  activities,  with  some  of  the  one- 
time start-up  costs  perhaps  being  funded  by  the 
Board  of  Trustees  as  "bridge  investments." 

Provost  Diran  Apelian  has  assigned  the  role  of 
coordinating  the  development  of  specific  imple- 
mentation plans  consistent  with  the  BRTF  recom- 
mendations on  academic  experience  to  Lance 
Schachterle,  associate  dean  for  undergraduate 
studies.  Schachterle  will  seek  the  advice  of  the 
faculty's  Committee  on  Governance  to  determine 
the  most  productive  roles  for  the  various  faculty 
governance  committees,  individual  faculty  mem- 
bers, staff,  students  and  the  relevant  administra- 
tive officers  and  offices  in  this  process. 

A  key  requirement  of  these  implementation 
plans  will  be  corresponding  business  plans  that 
specify  the  requisite  capital  (space  and  equipment) 
and  start-up  resources.  These  business  plans  must 
also  forecast  the  revenues  and  operating  expenses 
from  initiation  to  steady  state.  The  provost  will 
appoint  an  advisory  group  of  governance  commit- 
tee chairs,  the  secretary  of  the  faculty  and  an  acad- 
emic department  head  to  assist  in  prioritizing  these 
various  implementation  plans  as  they  compete  for 
resources.  Some  or  all  of  these  plans  may  well 
become  candidates  for  the  type  of  bridge  invest- 
ments proposed  by  the  BRTF. 


WPI  Journal 


The  BRTF  presented  its  recommendations  in  this 
category  under  the  headings  of  Cost  Contain- 
ment, Enhancing  Net  Revenue  and  Capital  Expen- 
ditures: 
Cost  Containment 

•  That  the  faculty  and  administration  develop  a 
process  to  significantly  and  continuously 
improve  the  effectiveness  and  efficiency  of  the 
educational  process  at  WPI. 

•  That  our  existing  programs  be  critically 
reviewed  not  only  with  respect  to  quality,  but 
also  to  cost  containment. 

•  That  the  goal  of  any  new  academic  program  ini- 
tiatives be  an  educational  cost  less  than  that 
incurred  by  our  traditional  engineering  and  sci- 
ence programs. 

•  That  the  hzistees  review  and  consider  the  con- 
cept of  a  severance  plan. 

The  creation  of  a  provost's  advisory  group  on  the 
implementation  of  BRTF  recommendations,  as 
outlined  on  page  7,  speaks  to  the  intent  and  letter 
of  these  process  recommendations.  Diran  Apelian 
had  previously  inaugurated  a  process  for  periodic 
external  review  of  the  quality  of  our  existing  pro- 
grams. In  view  of  the  BRTF  recommendations,  the 
implementation  of  this  review  process  will  be 
accelerated  and  an  emphasis  on  cost  effective- 
ness will  be  added  to  the  charge. 

The  results  of  these  studies  will  be  reviewed 
by  the  same  provost's  advisory  group,  since 
existing  programs  compete  for  resources  with 
proposed  new  academic  initiatives.  The  advisory 
group  will  be  cognizant  of  the  BRTF  recommen- 
dation regarding  lower  educational  cost  for  new 
academic  program  initiatives. 

As  noted  in  the  BRTF's  report,  the  firm  of 
William  M.  Mercer  is  working  with  a  task  force 
subcommittee  and  with  administrative  officers  to 
propose  a  severance  plan.  The  objective  is  to 
provide  alternatives  to  senior  faculty — and  possi- 
bly staff — who  wish  to  consider  other  career 
options.  The  task  force  subcommittee  envisioned 
that  this  process  could  facilitate  adjusting  to 
changing  conditions  and  priorities  or  attracting 
new  colleagues  at  relatively  little  net  cost. 

Enhancing  Net  Revenue 

•  That  the  trustees  retain  the  marketing  firm  of 
Barton  and  Gillet  to  determine  what  new  skills 
and  disciplines  will  be  needed  in  the  future  so 
that  WPI  can  offer  new  and  broader  career 
opportunities  to  its  students. 

•  That  the  trustees  retain  Barton  and  Gillet  to 
determine  the  demand  for  the  program  options 
outlined  above. 

•  That  WPI  continue  its  current  financial  aid  poli- 
cy at  least  until  the  implementation  of  new  aca- 
demic programs,  and  the  markets  they  are 
aimed  at,  provide  the  opportunity  for  different 
financial  aid  strategies.  Further,  that  in  the 


meantime  the  administration  continue  to  study 
innovative  financial  aid  approaches,  such  as 
the  funding  of  WPI  loans  to  students  on  a  struc- 
tured payback  basis. 

•  That  the  administration  develop  proactive 
means,  including  more  effective  use  of  alumni, 
to  enhance  the  image  and  profile  of  WPI  gradu- 
ates in  the  eyes  of  prospective  employers  in 
order  to  maintain  a  successful  job  place- 
ment record  as  an  advantage  in  attracting 
prospective  students. 

Barton-Gillet  has  been  retained  to  see  how 
receptive  the  prospective  student  market- 
place might  be  to  the  BRTF  recommendations 
regarding  the  academic  experience.  Further, 
they  have  been  encouraged  to  provide  advice 
on  the  much  more  difficult  issue  of  how  best 
to  match  WPl's  considerable  strengths  with 
the  perceived  needs  of  the  marketplace. 

The  scope  of  this  study  will  also  include 
continuing  education,  nontraditional  and  part- 
time  undergraduate  students.  A  client  com- 
mittee of  key  faculty  and  administrative  staff, 
chaired  by  the  provost,  will  coordinate  input 
and  review  progress  of  this  study.  Preliminary 
results  are  expected  this  fall. 

Another  important  focus  of  the  Barton-Gillet 
study  will  be  the  comparative  cost  effectiveness 
of  our  financial  aid  policies.  New  comparative 
data  analysis  capabilities  make  it  possible  to  cus- 
tom tailor  financial  aid  to  the  needs  of  individual 
market  segments,  thereby  optimizing  net  pricing 
attractiveness.  Given  the  relatively  large  amounts 
of  money  involved  in  financial  aid,  small  percent- 
age improvements  mean  large  savings  that  can 
be  employed  to  strengthen  other  aspects  of  insti- 
tutional attractiveness. 

At  the  1993  Reunion,  1  challenged  alumni  to 
help  us  with  job  placement,  and  I  found  great 
receptivity.  The  Alumni  Office,  the  Career  Devel- 
opment Center  and  the  WPI  Alumni  Association 
have  begun  working  more  closely  to  mobilize  this 
interest  in  helping  us  develop  more  effective  job 
placement  programs.  Successful  job  placement  is 
a  requisite  for  technological  education,  and  the 
dramatic  change  in  the  demand  for  new  engi- 
neers and  scientists  in  our  traditional  markets 
requires  new  strategies  and  tactics. 

Capital  Expenditures 

•  That... major  construction  be  financed  by  capital 
funds  obtained  through  development  efforts  so 
that  acquisition  costs  are  not  funded  by  the 
operating  budget. 

•  That  the  trustees  spend  an  appropriate  amount 
each  year  on  deferred  maintenance  to  maintain 
the  existing  discipline  now  being  applied  to  our 
physical  assets. 

The  trustees  are  committed  to  funding  any  new 
capital  construction  so  as  to  minimize  any  depen- 
dence on  the  operating  budget  and  are  quite  sen- 
sitive to  the  need  to  reduce  deferred  maintenance. 


Fall  1993 


"WPI  in  the  2 1  st  century  must  be  financially  stable. 
All  institutions  of  higher  education  face  and  will 
continue  to  face  ever-increasing  pressures  to  deliv- 
er high-quality  education  at  a  substantially  reduced 
cost  to  both  the  institution  and  the  consumer." 

The  cost  of  delivering  a  superior  technology-based  education  in  engineering  and  science 
is  high  and  growing  higher  all  the  time.  The  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  recommended  that  WPI 
work  toward  financial  equilibrium  by  critically  examining  the  costs  and  efficiencies  of  deliver- 
ing academic  programs,  better  matching  its  program  offerings  to  the  demands  of  the  market- 
place, exploring  new  approaches  to  financial  aid,  and  financing  major  new  construction  solely 
through  development  efforts. 


The  BRTF  ended  its  report  by  focusing  on  the 
process  going  forward.  Here  are  the 
recommendations 
from  that  section: 

•  The  task  force  rec- 
ommends that  as  a 
critical  strategic  ef- 
fort, the  process  continues  to  full 
conclusion,  in  accord  with  the 
president's  charge.  We  further  rec- 
ommend that  the  follow-up  phases 
be  oiganized  and  assigned  by  the 
administration  to  appropriate 
groups,  keeping  in  mind  the 
necessity  to  maintain  community 
involvement  and  collegiality  in 
the  process. 

•  The  task  force  strongly  recom- 
mends that  the  concepts  pre- 
sented, especially  as  they  relate 
to  broadening  of  our  programs, 
be  validated  by  the  market- 
place. We  recommend  that  the 
firm  of  Barton  and  Gillet  be 
commissioned  to  conduct  a 
market  study  of  our  program- 
matic recommendations  dur- 
ing the  summer  of  1993.  Their 
charge  should  be  to  validate 
the  concepts  and  recommen- 
dations we  have  made  to 
broaden  our  scope  and  to 
specifically  forecast  the  mar- 
ket acceptance  and  resource 
requirements  of  competing 
alternatives. 

•  We  recommend  that  the  WPI  Board  of  Trustees 
reaffirm  its  commitment  to  make  an  appropriate 
bridge  investment  in  support  of  the  implementa- 
tion of  the  comprehensive  plan  ultimately  result- 
ing from  this  process. 

As  I've  already  suggested,  follow-up  phases  have 
been  organized  and  assigned  to  appropriate 
groups.  The  Community  Council  will  assure  that 
community  involvement  and  collegiality  are  main- 
tained. Every  effort  will  be  made  to  structure  spe- 
cific action  steps  so  that  they  qualify  for  the 
bridge  investments  recommended  to  the  trustees. 
These  investments  could  come  from  capital 
assets  (endowment),  development  activities  or  a 
combination  of  the  two. 

The  WPI  community  owes  the  Blue  Ribbon 
Task  Force  a  great  debt  of  gratitude  for  reaffirm- 
ing so  clearly  the  difficult  financial  and  attitudinal 
environment  in  which  we  operate,  and  for  sug- 
gesting so  succinctly  approaches  to  the  compre- 
hensive plan  we  seek  for  the  future.  The  1993-94 
academic  year  promises  to  be  particularly  excit- 
ing as  we  involve  every  member  of  the  WPI  family 
in  this  process. 


"Quality  in  all  we  do  is  essential 
to  our  continuing  success.  WPI 
must  take  advantage  of  its 
strengths  in  technology  and 
broaden  along  technical  lines; 
be  sensitive  to  the  needs  of  its 
customers,  both  financially  and 
educationally;  be  flexible  pro- 
grammatically  to  meet  their 
needs;  and  produce  a  higher 
quality  program  at  a  lower  con- 
sumer and  institutional  cost.** 

At  Reunion  in  1993,  President  Strauss  enlists  alumni  in 
the  process  of  reshaping  WPI  for  the  21st  century.  In  the 
months  ahead,  all  sectors  of  the  WPI  community  will 
make  their  voices  heard  as  the  Institute  maps  out  a  com- 
prehensive plan  for  the  future. 


10 


Fall  1993 


FINANCIAL  SUMMARY 


By  Robert  W.  Gailey 

Vice  President  for  Business  Affairs 
and  Treasurer 

WPI's  financial  position  at  June  30,  1993, 
continues  to  be  strong.  Led  by  the 
Endowment  Fund,  the  Institute's  invest- 
ments and  fund  balances  are  at  all-time 
highs.  The  Endowment  Fund  realized  an  increase  in 
balance  of  $12.2  million  for  the  year. 

Total  assets  increased  by  approximately  $16.3 
million,  or  7.7  percent,  to  $211  million,  while  total  lia- 
bilities decreased  slightly.  Debt  service  (principal 
and  interest)  represented  only  5.1  percent  of  unre- 
stricted current  fund  expenditures  and  mandatory 
transfers  for  the  year,  which  is  comparatively  low 
for  educational  institutions.  Investments  in  property, 
plant  and  equipment — less  accumulated  deprecia- 
tion— increased  by  3.6  percent  to  $51.8  million. 

The  11.4  percent  increase  in  the  book  value  of 
the  Endowment  Fund  was  due  to  new  gift  additions 
($4  million),  transfers  from  other  funds  ($360,000), 
and  net  reinvested  returns  ($7.8  million).  The  mar- 
ket value  of  the  fund  was  $127,897,992  as  of  June  30, 
1993.  It  produced  an  annual  total  return  (net  of  fees) 
of  11.9  percent.  This  total  return  compared  with  the 
Standard  and  Poor's  stock  index  gain  of  13.6  per- 
cent and  the  Shearson  Lehman  intermediate  bond 
index  gain  of  10.5  percent. 

Total  Current  Fund  revenue  increased  by  $5.2 
million  in  fiscal  year  1993  to  a  total  of  $78  million; 
this  represented  a  gain  of  7.1  percent  over  fiscal 
year  1992.  There  was  a  positive  bottom  line  from 
operations  for  the  fiscal  year  of  $18,401.  The  Insti- 
tute increased  its  overall  fiscal  position  (total  fund 
balance)  by  $17  million,  an  11  percent  gain  for  the 
year. 

Total  funds  expended  for  instruction  and  depart- 
mental research  represented  34  percent  of  unre- 
stricted educational,  general  and  auxiliary  revenue. 
While  the  annual  funds  expended  for  operation  and 
maintenance  of  the  physical  plant  increased  by  4.9 
percent,  accumulated  deferred  maintenance  on  the 
WPI  campus  continued  to  total  about  $15  million. 

Student  aid  awarded  from  unrestricted  current 
funds  increased  by  16.9  percent  to  more  than  $10.1 
million;  it  represented  22.6  percent  of  the  total 
revenue  (including  room  and  board)  collected  from 
undergraduate  students.  Sponsored  research  and 
other  sponsored  programs  increased  by  35.9  per- 
cent to  $9.1  million.  This  substantial  increase  re- 
sulted from  a  full  year's  activity  by  the  Center  for 
High  Performance  Computing. 

While  auxiliary  operations  (housing,  food  ser- 
vice, bookstore,  etc.)  generated  $6.3  million  in  rev- 
enue, the  cost  to  generate  that  revenue  ran  slightly 
more.  The  Institute's  policy  of  operating  auxiliary 
services  on  a  self-supporting  basis  was  essentially 
maintained. 


Total  Expenditures 

(percent) 


Total  Revenue 

(percent) 


y 

y^^ 

/       /       /       / 

y 

/   /  /  / 

'       /       /       /       / 

/ 

/   /   /   / 

/  / 

/^  / 

/■ 

y 

/ 

y    /    /    ^ 

■    s- 

/■ 

/   / 

/ 

Other,  4% 


Other,  13% 


Physical  plant,  computing 

and  other  administrative,  16% 


Endowment  income,  gifts  and 
other  internal  revenue,  20% 


Student  Aid,  21% 


7^\ 


,*• 


Tuition,  room  and  board, 
educational  and  otherfees,  67% 


Direct  expenses  for  educational 
and  research  operations,  59% 


WPI  Journal 


11 


FINANCIAL  HIGHLIGHTS 

..       . .  . 

Years  ended  June  30,  1993  and  1992 

/.  General  Operating  Funds  (Thousands  of  Dollars) 

1993 

1992 

Percent 
Change 

Tuition,  fees  and  other  educational  revenues 
Student  financial  aid 

Gifts,  grants  and  bequests,  as  recognized 
Revenues  from  sponsored  research  programs 
Total  staff  benefit  expenses,  before  allocation 

$46,311 

15,885 

8,193 

9,109 

6,930 

$44,772 

13,920 

6,597 

6,701 

6,253 

+3.4 
+14.1 
+24.2 
+35.9 
+10.8 

2.  Endowment  and  Similar  Funds  (Thousands  of  Dollars) 

1993 

1992 

Percent 
Change 

Beginning  market  values 

$114,757 

$107,041 

+7.2 

plus: 

Investment  results 

Income  (interest  and  dividends) 

Realized  gains 

Change  in  unrealized  gains 

$5,013 
8,754 
3,636 

$5,934 
2,193 
3,762 

Total  investment  results 

$17,403 

$11,889 

+46.4 

less: 

Used  in  support  of  college 

Transferred  to  restricted  funds 

(3,996) 
(266) 

(3,963) 
(1,900) 

+0.8 
-86.0 

Net  reinvested  in  endowment 

13,141 

6,026 

+  111.7 

plus: 

Additions  to  endowments,  mostly  from  gifts 

4,389 

1,690 

+159.7 

Ending  Market  Value 

$127,898 

$114,757 

+11.5 

Five-Year  Summary  of  Total  Return  Data 

'93 

'92 

'91 

'90 

'89 

WPI  Total  Return 

WP1  Policy  Index 

S&P500 

Shearson  Lehman  Intermediate  Bond 

CPI  Index 

11.9%           12.4% 

13.5  13.5 

13.6  13.5 
10.5              13.2 

3.0               2.8 

8.5% 
8.7 
7.4 
10.5 
5.1 

5.0% 
13.7 
16.4 

7.8 

4.8 

11.6% 

17.1 

20.5 

10.2 
4.7 

Copies  of  the  complete  audited  financial  reports  for 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  for  fiscal  year  1993 
can  be  obtained  by  writing  to: 

Office  of  Business  Affairs 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute 
100  Institute  Road 
Worcester,  MA  01609-2280 

12 


Fall  1993 


Financial 
Statements 

Report  of  Independent 
Accountants 


The  Board  of  Trustees 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute: 

We  have  audited  the  accompanying  balance  sheet  of 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  as  of  June  30,  1993  and 
the  related  statements  of  changes  in  fund  balances  and 
of  current  fund  revenues,  expenditures  and  other 
changes  for  the  year  then  ended.  We  previously  audited  and 
reported  upon  the  financial  statements  of  Worcester  Polytechnic 
Institute  for  the  year  ended  June  30,  1992,  for  which  condensed 
statements  are  presented  for  comparative  purposes  only.  These 
financial  statements  are  the  responsibility  of  Worcester  Polytechnic 
Institute's  management.  Our  responsibility  is  to  express  an  opinion 
on  these  financial  statements  based  on  our  audit. 

We  conducted  our  audit  in  accordance  with  generally  accepted 
auditing  standards.  Those  standards  require  that  we  plan  and  per- 
form the  audit  to  obtain  reasonable  assurance  about  whether  the 
financial  statements  are  free  of  material  misstatement.  An  audit 
includes  examining,  on  a  test  basis,  evidence  supporting  the 
amounts  and  disclosures  in  the  financial  statements.  An  audit  also 
includes  assessing  the  accounting  principles  used  and  significant 
estimates  made  by  management,  as  well  as  evaluating  the  overall 
financial  statement  presentation.  We  believe  that  our  audit  provides 
a  reasonable  basis  for  our  opinion. 

In  our  opinion,  the  financial  statements  referred  to  above  pre- 
sent fairly,  in  all  material  respects,  the  financial  position  of 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  as  of  June  30,  1993,  the  changes  in 
its  fund  balances  and  its  current  fund  revenues,  expenditures  and 
other  changes  for  the  year  then  ended  in  conformity  with  generally 
accepted  accounting  principles. 


Boston,  Massachusetts 
September  10, 1993 


Audited  Reports 

Balance  Sheet 

June  30,  1993 

(with  comparative  totals  at  June  30,  1992) 

Endowment 

Trust  and 

Current  Funds 

Loan 

and  Similar 

Life  Income 

Plant 

Total  All  Funds 

ASSETS                                Unrestricted 

Restricted 

Funds 

Funds 

Funds 

Funds 

1993 

1992 

Cash  and  cash  equivalents 

$    860,752 

$        63,350 

$       98,934 

$     1,023,036 

$     2,052,834 

Investments,  at  cost  (Note  4) 

8,683,072 

2,252,063 

180,719 

$  120,905,954 

$  5,525,364 

$   4,530,729 

142,077,901 

125,321,055 

Accounts  receivable,  net  (Note  2) 

982,561 

2,315,430 

37,776 

873 

3,336,640 

4,779,835 

Notes  receivable  (Note  3) 

39,593 

11,568,322 

11,607,915 

10,962,289 

Inventories 

21,792 

21,792 

68,013 

Deposits  with  trustees  (Note  6) 

455,330 

455,330 

493,102 

Property,  plant  and  equipment, 

net  (Note  5) 

51,249,488 

51,249,488 

49,615,275 

Construction  in  progress 

581,347 

581,347 

437,026 

Prepaid  expenses 

64,726 

64,726 

334,029 

Deferred  financing  costs  (Note  1) 

1,003,480 

1,003,480 

1,056,051 

Interfund  balances,  net  (Note  1) 

(5,477,315) 

6,458,075 

(2,046,713) 

(1,651,757) 

(53,499) 

2,771,209 

— 

— 

Total  assets 

$5,175,181 

811,088,918 

8  9,801,262 

$119,254,197 

85,509,641 

860,592,456 

$211,421,655 

$195,119,509 

LIABILITIES  AND  FUND  BALANCES 

Liabilities: 

Accounts  payable 

783,956 

377,767 

58 

5,490 

88,042 

1,255,313 

1,344,150 

Accrued  expenses 

1,928,257 

12,975 

668,587 

2,609,819 

2,733,557 

Annuities  payable  (Note  1) 

1,086,293 

1,086,293 

885,201 

Deposits  and  deferred  revenue    1,708,458 

1,708,458 

1,606,965 

Funds  held  for  others 

128,875 

90,833 

219,708 

157,491 

Long-term  debt  (Note  6) 

34,163,774 

34,163,774 

35,020,673 

Commitments  (Note  9) 

Total  liabilities 

4,420,671 

506,642 

58 

18,465 

1,177,126 

34,920,403 

41,043,365 

41,748,037 

Fund  balances: 

Unrestricted 

754,510 

754,510 

736,109 

Restricted 

10,582,276 

1,482,270 

53,600,872 

4,332,515 

69,997,933 

61,297,794 

Internally  designated 

65,634,860 

65,634,860 

60,834,556 

Plant  Fund 

25,672,053 

25,672,053 

22,311,230 

U.S.  Government 

8,318,934 

8,318,934 

8,191,783 

Total  fund  balances 

754,510 

10,582,276 

9,801,204 

119,235,732 

4,332,515 

25,672,053 

170,378,290 

153,371,472 

Total  liabilities  and 

fund  balances 

85,175,181 

811,088,918 

8  9,801,262 

8119,254,197 

85,509,641 

860,592,456 

$211,421,655 

$195,119,509 

The  accompanying  notes  are  an  integral  part  of  the  financial  statements. 

F2 


Fall  1993 


Statement  Of  Changes  In  Fund  Balances 

June  30,  1993 

(with  comparative  totals  at  June  30,  1992) 

Endowment 

Trust  and 

Current  Funds 

Loan 

and  Similar 

Life  Income 

Plant 

Total  All  Funds 

l 

Jnrestricted 

Restricted 

Funds 

Funds 

Funds 

Funds 

1993 

1992 

Revenues  and  other  additions: 

Student  tuition  and  fees 

$41,748,891 

$   41,748,891 

$   39,966,948 

Other  educational  operations 

4,562,376 

4,562,376 

4,804,567 

Auxiliary  enterprises 

6,257,508 

6,257,508 

6,349,002 

Sales  and  services 

25,410 

25,410 

38,543 

Other  operating  sources 

767,265 

767,265 

725,876 

Endowment  income 

3,316,153 

$    1,663,762 

$      32,168 

$               17 

$          1,227 

5,013,327 

5,934,203 

Investments  and  similar  income 

984,444 

94,734 

257,253 

$    159,138 

499,592 

1,995,161 

1,764,387 

Net  realized  gain  on  investments 

8,753,643 

125,942 

8,879,585 

2,254,833 

Contracts,  grants  and 

financial  aid 

1,564,695 

12,837,355 

24,604 

14,426,654 

11,239,280 

Gifts  and  other  receipts 

1,670,815 

4,141,161 

4,009,677 

460,256 

3,267,613 

13,549,522 

7,592,100 

Other  additions  in  funds 

90,496 

2,324 

63,673 

55,149 

211,642 

339,341 

60,897,557 

18,827,508 

316,349 

12,827,010 

745,336 

3,823,581 

97,437,341 

81,009,080 

Expenditures  and  other  deductions 

Current  fund  expenditures 

56,912,284 

17,149,519 

74,061,803 

68,251,452 

Cancellation  of  principal  and 

interest  on  student  loans 

10,431 

10,431 

41,301 

Depreciation 

3,954,317 

3,954,317 

3,499,400 

Interest  on  indebtedness 

2,217,893 

2,217,893 

2,492,387 

Administrative  and  custodial  fees 

120,220 

38,768 

158,988 

157,755 

Other  financing  charges 

— 

879,289 

Other  deductions  in  funds 

27,091 

27,091 

163,026 

56,912,284 

17,149,519 

130,651 

— 

65,859 

6,172,210 

80,430,523 

75,484,610 

Transfers  between  funds: 

Mandatory: 

Principal  and  interest 

(3,053,978) 

3,053,978 

— 

— 

Nonmandatory: 

Funded  depreciation  (Note  5) 

(1,481,094) 

(200,000) 

1,681,094 

— 

— 

Investment  earnings  transferred 

(to)  from  endowment 

680,462 

303,767 

6,464 

(990,939) 

246 

— 

— 

Unrestricted  gifts  allocated 

(379,000) 

379,000 

— 

— 

Repair  and  replacement  reserve   (161,679) 

161,679 

— 

— 

Other  transfers  (Note  5) 

428,417 

(1,220,857) 

(20,015) 

812,455 

— 

— 

(3,966,872) 

(1,117,090) 

6,464 

(631,954) 

— 

5,709,452 

— 

— 

Net  increase  in  fund  balance 

18,401 

560,899 

192,162 

12,195,056 

679,477 

3,360,823 

17,006,818 

5,524,470 

Beginning  fund  balance 

736,109 

10,021,377 

9,609,042 

107,040,676 

3,653,038 

22,311,230 

153,371,472 

147,847,002 

Ending  fund  balance 

$    754,510 

$10,582,276 

$9,801,204 

$119,235,732 

$4,332,515 

$25,672,053 

$170,378,290 

$153,371,472 

The  accompanying  notes  are  an  integral  part  of  the  financial  statements. 

WPI  Journal 


F3 


Total  Revenues 


'93  EE 

53.8 

'92EB 

51.7 

'91 EE 

51.2 

'90133 

50.7 

'89EB 

49.0 

'p.Ri^n 

46.9 

'87EO 

45.4 

86EE 

45.3 

'85  Km 

42.8 

'84  KM] 

40.5 


60      75 


0       15      30      45 
BBSB1  MillionsofDollars 
•Constant    Yearsendingjune30. 1984-93 
'1983  Base 


Total  Expenditures 

(before  transfers) 


0       15      30      45 

Wtllli.-liH   MillionsofDollars 
"Constant    Years  ending  June  30, 1984-93 
•1983  Base 


75 


Statement  Of  Current  Fund  Revenues, 
Expenditures  And  Other  Changes 

for  the  year  ended  June  30,  1993 

(with  comparative  totals  for  the  year  ended  June  30,  1992) 


Current  Funds 

Total  Current  Funds 

Unrestricted 

Restricted 

1993 

1992 

Revenues: 

Educational  and  general: 

Student  tuition  and  fees 

$41,748,891 

$  41,748,891 

$  39,966,948 

Other  educational  operations 

4,562,376 

4,562,376 

4,804,567 

Sales  and  services 

25,410 

25,410 

38,543 

Other  operating  sources 

767,265 

767,265 

725,876 

Endowment,  investment  and 

similar  income 

4,300,597 

$    1,518,383 

5,818,980 

6,669,635 

Contracts,  grants  and  gifts 

3,235,510 

15,631,136 

18,866,646 

14,283,025 

54,640,049 

17,149,519 

71,789,568 

66,488,594 

Auxiliary  operations 

6,257,508 

— 

6,257,508 

6,349,002 

Total  revenue 

60,897,557 

17,149,519 

78,047,076 

72,837,596 

Expenditures: 

Educational  and  general: 

Instruction  and  department  research 

18,684,508 

2,037,255 

20,721,763 

20,635,059 

Library 

1,424,996 

538 

1,425,534 

1,467,538 

Student  services 

2,981,635 

191,700 

3,173,335 

2,927,140 

Public  services  and  information 

1,663,636 

39,405 

1,703,041 

1,711,957 

Operation  and  maintenance  of  plant 

5,105,293 

17,239 

5,122,532 

4,884,892 

General  administrative  and  institutiona 

3,145,556 

7,732 

3,153,288 

2,830,412 

Staff  benefits 

5,972,436 

5,972,436 

5,429,565 

Student  aid 

10,138,743 

5,746,311 

15,885,054 

13,919,989 

Sponsored  research  and  other 

sponsored  programs 

9,109,339 

9,109,339 

6,701,131 

Other  educational  operations 

1,717,652 

1,717,652 

1,802,884 

College  computer  center 

1,383,308 

1,383,308 

1,271,805 

52,217,763 

17,149,519 

69,367,282 

63,582,372 

Mandatory  transfer  for  principal 

and  interest 

1,402,859 

1,402,859 

1,131,059 

Total  educational  and  general  and 

mandatory  transfer 

53,620,622 

17,149,519 

70,770,141 

64,713,431 

Auxiliary  expenditures: 

Expenditures 

4,694,521 

4,694,521 

4,669,080 

Mandatory  transfer  for  principal 

and  interest 

1,651,119 

1,651,119 

1,505,542 

Total  auxiliary  expenditures  and 

mandatory  transfer 

6,345,640 

— 

6,345,640 

6,174,622 

Total  expenditures  and 

mandatory  transfers 

59,966,262 

17,149,519 

77,115,781 

70,888,053 

Excess  of  restricted  receipts  over 

revenue  transfers 
Nonmandatory  transfers: 

Investment  earnings  transferred 

(to)  from  endowment  (Note  4)  680,462 

Funded  depreciation  (1,481,094) 

Repair  and  replacement  reserve  (161,679) 

Unrestricted  gifts  allocated  (379,000) 

Other  transfers  428,417 


1,677,989 


303,767 
(200,000) 


(1,220,857) 


1,677,989 


984,229 
(1,681,094) 
(161,679) 
(379,000) 
(792,440) 


Nonmandatory  transfers 


Net  increase  (decrease) 
Beginning  fund  balance 


18,401 


736,109 


10,021,377 


10,757,486 


2,791,176 


(71,028) 

(1,693,269) 

(130,155) 

(5,830) 

(2,953,163) 


(912,894)  (1,117,090)  (2,029,984)  (4,853,445) 

560,899  579,300  (112,726) 


10,870,212 


Ending  fund  balance 


$     754,510  810,582,276  $11,336,786        $10,757,486 


The  accompanying  notes  are  an  integral  part  of  the  financial  statements. 


F4 


Fall  1993 


Notes  To  Financial  Statements 
I.  Accounting  Policies: 

Basis  of  Presentation  The  accompanying  financial  statements  have  been  prepared  on  the  accrual  basis  of 
accounting.  The  statement  of  current  fund  revenues,  expenditures,  and  other  changes  is  a  statement  of  finan- 
cial activities  of  current  funds  related  to  the  current  reporting  period.  It  does  not  purport  to  present  the 
results  of  operations  or  the  net  income  or  loss  for  the  period  as  would  a  statement  of  income  or  a  statement 
of  revenues  and  expenses. 

To  the  extent  that  current  funds  are  used  to  finance  plant  assets,  the  amounts  so  provided  are  accounted 
for  as  (1)  expenditures,  in  the  case  of  normal  replacement  of  movable  equipment  and  library  books; 
(2)  mandatory  transfers,  in  the  case  of  required  provisions  for  debt  amortization  and  interest  and  equipment 
renewal  and  replacement;  and  (3)  transfers  of  a  nonmandatory  nature  for  all  other  cases. 

Gifts  and  pledges  are  recorded  when  collected.  Fair  value  is  assigned  on  the  date  of  receipt.  During  1993, 
gifts-in-kind  of  $3,267,613  were  recorded  in  the  plant  fund. 

Fund  Accounting  In  order  to  ensure  the  observance  of  limitations  and  restrictions  placed  on  the  use  of  the 
resources  available  to  Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute  (the  "Institute"),  the  accounts  of  the  Institute  are 
maintained  in  accordance  with  "fund  accounting"  principles.  This  is  the  procedure  by  which  resources  for 
various  purposes  are  classified  for  accounting  and  reporting  purposes,  into  funds  that  are  in  accordance  with 
activities  or  objectives  specified.  Separate  accounts  are  maintained  for  each  fund;  however,  in  the  accompa- 
nying financial  statements,  funds  that  have  similar  characteristics  have  been  combined  into  fund  groups. 
Accordingly,  all  financial  transactions  have  been  recorded  and  reported  by  each  respective  fund  group. 

Within  each  fund  group,  fund  balances  restricted  by  outside  sources  are  so  indicated  and  are  distin- 
guished from  unrestricted  funds  allocated  to  specific  purposes  by  action  of  the  governing  board.  Externally 
restricted  funds  may  only  be  utilized  in  accordance  with  the  purposes  established  by  the  source  of  such 
funds  and  are  in  contrast  with  unrestricted  funds  over  which  the  Institute  retains  control  to  use  in  achieving 
any  of  its  institutional  purposes. 

Fund  Groups  The  assets,  liabilities  and  fund  balances  of  the  Institute  are  reported  in  five  self-balancing  fund 
groups. 

1.  Current  funds  include  all  unrestricted  and  restricted  resources  that  are  available  for  operating  purposes 
of  performing  the  primary  missions  of  the  Institute. 

2.  Loan  funds  are  restricted  for  use  in  making  loans  to  students  and  include  resources  received  from 
donors,  governmental  agencies  and  mandatory  institutional  matching  grants. 

3.  Endowment  funds  include  the  following:  (1)  true  endowment  funds  that  are  subject  to  restrictions  of  the 
gift  instruments  requiring  the  principal  be  invested  in  perpetuity  with  only  the  income  to  be  expended, 
and  (2)  internally  designated  endowment  funds  that  are  established  by  the  governing  board  to  act  as 
endowments  where  the  principal,  as  well  as  the  income,  may  be  expended. 

4.  Trust  and  Life  Income  Funds  consists  of  funds  acquired  by  the  Institute  subject  to  agreements  whereby 
assets  are  made  available  to  the  Institute  on  the  condition  that  the  Institute  bind  itself  to  pay  stipulated 
amounts  periodically  to  designated  individuals.  Payments  of  such  amounts  terminate  at  a  time  specified 
in  the  agreements. 

5.  Plant  funds  are  used  to  account  for  the  transactions  relating  to  investment  in  the  Institute's  properties. 
All  gains  and  losses  arising  from  the  sale,  collection  or  other  disposition  of  investments  and  other  non- 
cash assets  are  accounted  for  in  the  fund  that  owned  such  assets.  Ordinary  income  derived  from  invest- 
ments, receivables  and  the  like  is  accounted  for  in  the  fund  owning  such  assets,  except  for  income  derived 
from  investments  of  endowment  and  similar  funds,  which  income  is  accounted  for  in  the  fund  to  which  it  is 
restricted  or,  if  unrestricted,  as  revenues  in  unrestricted  current  funds. 

All  other  unrestricted  revenue  is  accounted  for  in  the  unrestricted  current  fund.  Restricted  gifts,  grants, 
appropriations,  endowment  income  and  other  restricted  resources  are  accounted  for  in  the  appropriate 
restricted  funds.  Restricted  current  funds  are  reported  as  revenues  and  expenditures  when  expended  for  cur- 
rent operating  purposes. 

Cash  and  Cash  Equivalents  Cash  and  cash  equivalents  include  cash  on  hand  and  short-term  investments, 
principally  the  Common  Fund  Intermediate  Cash  Fund,  which  consist  principally  of  U.S.  government  agency 
obligations. 

Inventories  Inventories,  consisting  principally  of  personal  computer  equipment,  are  valued  at  the  lower  of 
cost  (first-in,  first-out)  or  market. 

Interfund  Borrowings  and  Advances  The  interfund  borrowings  and  advances  are  temporary  in  nature 
except  for  $2,046,713  payable  from  the  student  loan  fund  to  the  current  fund.  The  payable  to  the  current  fund 
is  expected  to  be  paid  from  specific  loan  collections  within  a  10-year  period  without  interest. 


Tuition  and  Fees 
Revenues 

'93EB 

28.8 

'92  EH] 

28.5 

'91  EH 

28.7 

'90E13 

28.1 

'89EB 

25.4 


'88EE 

24.5 

'87EE 

23.7 

'86EE 

20.9 

'85EE 

19.5 

'84EEX3 

18.7 

0       7      14     21     28 

WtlllJJJill   MillionsofDollars 
*  Constant    Years  ending  June  30, 1 984-93 
*  1983  Base 


Tuition  and  Feesasa  Per- 
centage of  Total  Revenues 

'93EU 


35 


'92EE 
'91  Ell 
'90EH 

'89EE 
'88  EB 

'87  EU 
'86EE 
'85133 
'84UJFJ 


52      55 


40      43      46 

Percent 

Years  ending  June  30, 1984-93 


WPI  Journal 


F5 


Sponsored 
Program  Awards 

'93KH 

3.9 

'92  KB 

3.8 

'91  KB 

4.0 

'90KB 

3.0 

'89KE1 

3.3 

S8H&1 

4.2 

'87KB 

3.7 

'86KB 

1.7 

'85KB 

1.8 

'84KB 

2.1 

0        12       3       4       5 
KfflSSB  MiUionsofDollars 
'Constant    Years  ending  June  30. 1 984-93 
•1983  Base 


Deferred  Financing  Costs  Deferred  financing  costs  relate  to  debt  issuance  costs  that  are  amortized  over  the 
life  of  the  bonds.  Total  amortization  expense  for  each  of  the  years  ended  June  30, 1993  and  1992,  were  $58,573 
and  $56,363,  respectively. 

Sponsored  Research  In  October  1991,  the  Board  of  Trustees  voted  to  approve  the  establishment  of  the 
Center  for  High  Performance  Computing  (the  "Center").  The  nucleus  group  of  engineers  and  computer 
scientists  that  comprise  the  basis  of  the  Center  previously  worked  on  government  supported  contract 
research  for  Encore  Computer  Corporation.  On  Nov.  18,  1991,  the  Center  began  operations  under  active  U.S. 
government  agency  contracts  specifically  awarded  to  WPI.  Commencing  on  Nov.  18,  1991,  the  revenue, 
expenses  and  balance  sheet  accounts  of  the  Center  are  included  in  the  financial  statements  of  the  Institute. 

Revenues  associated  with  research  and  other  contracts  and  grants  at  both  the  Institute  and  the  Center  are 
recognized  as  related  costs  are  incurred.  Indirect  cost  recovery  by  the  Institute  on  U.  S.  government  agency 
contracts  and  grants  is  based  upon  a  predetermined  fixed  rate.  The  Center  has  been  operating  under  a 
negotiated  fixed  provisional  indirect  cost  recovery  rate  negotiated  with  the  principal  U.S.  government  agency 
and  is  subject  to  the  results  of  an  impending  audit. 

Total  sponsored  research  revenue  recognized  in  restricted  current  funds  in  fiscal  1993  and  1992 
amounted  to: 


1993 


1992 


The  Institute 
The  Center 


-  3,902,921 
5,206,418 


:  4,254,927 
2,446,204 


Total  sponsored  research  revenue 


$9,109,339 


$6,701,131 


Property,  Plant  and  Equipment  Land  and  land  improvements,  buildings,  and  equipment  are  recorded  at  cost 
at  the  date  of  purchase.  When  assets  are  retired  or  otherwise  disposed  of,  the  cost  and  related  accumulated 
depreciation  are  removed  from  the  accounts,  and  any  resulting  gain  or  loss  is  reflected  in  operations  for  the 
period.  The  cost  of  maintenance  and  repairs  is  charged  to  income  as  incurred;  significant  renewals  and  bet- 
terments are  capitalized. 

The  Institute  depreciates  capital  assets  based  upon  their  useful  lives.  The  policy  applies  to  assets 
acquired  with  an  expected  useful  life  of  three  years  or  more  and  a  cost  greater  than  $500.  Depreciation  is  cal- 
culated using  the  straight-line  method,  half-year  convention  over  the  following  estimated  useful  lives: 

Land  improvements 10  -  20  years 

Buildings  and  improvements 20  -  50  years 

Equipment 3  - 10  years 

Annuities  Payable  Amounts  due  to  donors  in  connection  with  gift  annuities  is  determined  based  on  remain- 
der value  calculations  that  generally  assume  a  rate  of  return  of  10  percent,  maximum  payout  terms  of  20 
years,  and  an  interest  payout  rate  of  7.5  percent. 

Vested  Vacation  Accrual  The  Institute  accrues  a  liability  for  estimatable  compensated  absences  (vested 
vacation  for  hourly  and  salaried  employees)  as  required  by  FASB  Statement  No.  43. 

Tax-Exempt  Status  The  Institute  is  exempt  from  federal  income  tax  under  Section  501(c)(3)  of  the  Internal 
Revenue  Code. 

Reclassification  Certain  amounts  in  the  June  30,  1992,  financial  statements  have  been  reclassified  to  conform 
with  the  June  30,  1993,  presentation. 


2.  Accounts  Receivable: 

Accounts  receivable  consist  of  the  following 


Sponsored  research 
Other  receivables 

Less:  allowance  for  doubtful  accounts 


1993  Current  Funds 
Unrestricted                  Restricted 

1992  Total 

Current 

Funds 

$1,005,561 

$  2,000,030 
315,400 

$  3,462,379 
1,339,150 

1,005,561 
23,000 

2,315,430 

4,801,529 
23,000 

Total  accounts  receivable 


$  982,561 


$2,315,430 


$4,778,529 


At  June  30,  1993,  sponsored  research  accounts  receivable  related  to  the  Center  amounted  to  $673,410,  which 
is  net  of  an  advance  payment  of  $860,000. 


F6 


Fall  1993 


3.  Notes  Receivable: 

Notes  receivable  consist  of  the  following: 


1992  Total 

1993 

Notes 

Current  Fund 

Loan  Fund 

Receivable 

Student  loans 

Other 

Less:  allowance  for  doubtful  accounts 


$  39,593 


$  11,584,171 
15,849 


$  10,928,260 
49,878 
15,849 


Total  notes  receivable 


839,593 


$11,568,322 


$10,962,289 


Notes  receivable  are  principally  amounts  due  from  students  under  federally  sponsored  loan  programs  that 
are  subject  to  significant  restrictions.  Accordingly,  it  is  not  practicable  to  determine  the  fair  value  of  such 
amounts. 

4.  Investments: 

Investments  are  stated  at  cost.  Investments  acquired  by  gift  or  bequest  are  recorded  at  market  value  at  the 
date  of  acquisition.  Purchases  and  sales  of  investments  are  recorded  on  settlement  date.  Market  value  repre- 
sents the  fair  value  of  investments  at  June  30,  1993.  Realized  gains  and  losses  are  accounted  for  within  the 
fund  that  holds  the  investments  using  the  specific  identification  method.  Investment  income  is  recorded 
when  received.  At  June  30,  1993,  short-term  investments  in  the  current  unrestricted  funds  consisted  of 
$3,000,000  in  fixed-income  mutual  fund  and  commercial  paper  with  maturities  ranging  from  July  1993  to 
November  1993.  There  was  no  more  than  $1,000,000  invested  in  any  single  issuer  of  commercial  paper. 
Investments  of  endowment  and  similar  funds  are  composed  of  the  following: 


Book  Value 
1993  1992 


Market  Value 
1993  1992 


Equities  $    48,207,923  $    29,671,932  $    50,080,960  $    29,329,536 

Bonds  15,884,315  25,015,486  16,976,358  26,537,101 

Short-term  notes  15,213,692  2,165,130  15,214,992  2,165,130 
Mutual  funds: 

Equity  funds  14,999,441  28,220,370  15,493,919  32,447,694 

Fixed-income  funds  15,328,086  13,900,623  18,391,297  15,908,498 

Mortgages  on  real  estate  27,792  46,423  27,792  46,423 

Realty  trust*  2,813,000  2,513,000  2,813,000  2,513,000 

Oil  and  gas,  L.P.*  6,000,000  3,450,000  6,000,000  3,450,000 

Bioventures,  L.P.*  1,724,518  1,259,933  2,192,487  1,631,322 

Other  707,187  728,271  707,187  728,271 


Total 


$120,905,954 


$106,971,168 


$127,897,992 


$114,756,975 


*  Not  publicly  traded. 

Endowment  Income  and  Spending  Investments  of  endowment  and  similar  funds,  except  for  five  funds  with  a 
combined  market  value  of  $3,613,596,  are  pooled  on  a  market  value  per  unit  basis  at  the  beginning  of  the  cal- 
endar quarter  within  which  a  transaction  takes  place.  At  June  30,  1993,  there  was  a  total  of  40,490,939  units, 
each  having  a  market  value  of  $3,028.  Of  the  total  units,  17,569,683  were  owned  by  endowment  funds  and 
22,921,256  were  owned  by  internally  designated  funds. 


Market  Value 
of  Endowment 

'93  EH 

86.9 

'92EEE 

81.6 

91  wm 

77.6 

'90EH 

75.9 


'89EH 

78.7 

'88EH 

75.5 

'87EE 

70.5 

'86  EH 

63.4 

'85EH 

59.9 

53.2 

0       24      48      72 

BEfflBlffll   Millionsof Dollars 
"  Constant    Years  ending  June  30, 1 984-93 
*1 983  Base 


96     120 


Endowment 
Total  Return 

'93  EH  I 


0  5 

Percent 

Years  ending  June  30, 1 984-93 


WPI  Journal 


F7 


Operations  and  Plant 
Maintenance  Expenditures 


D         1        2        3        4        5 
MgjBEZl  Miflionsof Dollars 

•Constant    YearsendingJune30.1984-93 
•1983  Base 


The  following  tabulation  summarizes  changes  in  the  relationship  between  cost  and  market  values  of  the 
pooled  investments: 


June  30,  1993 

June  30, 1992 

Change  in  unrealized 
appreciation  for  year 

Net  realized  gains  on 
pooled  investments 

Less:  realized  gains  on  pooled 
investments  distributed  as 
investment  income  to  the 
current  fund 


Pooled  Investments 

Market  Value 

Market 

Cost 

Gains 

Per  Unit 

$124,284,393 

$117,634,503 

$6,649,890 

$3,028 

111,341,624 

103,644,369 

7,697,255 

(1,047,365) 

8,828,808 

2.857 

(990,939) 


Total  net  realized  and  unrealized 
gain  for  year 


$6,790,504 


S.171 


A  summary  of  the  market  value  per  unit  and  the  income  per  time-weighted  unit  for  the  pooled  invest- 
ments held  as  of  June  30,  1993,  and  in  each  of  the  prior  four  years  is  as  follows: 


1993 
1992 
1991 
1990 
1989 


The  Institute  observes  a  spending  rule  with  respect  to  unrestricted  investment  income  on  investments  of 
the  endowment  and  similar  funds.  In  accordance  with  that  spending  rule,  the  Institute  distributed  5.50  per- 
cent of  the  average  unit  market  value  for  the  previous  two  years  to  current  operations. 

The  spending  rule  distribution  for  fiscal  1993  is  .146  per  time-weighted  unit  that  was  comprised  of  .121  of 
income  per  time-weighted  unit  and  .025  per  unit  distributed  from  accumulated  capital  gains. 

5.  Property,  Plant  and  Equipment: 

Property,  plant  and  equipment  consists  of  the  following: 


Income  Per  Time- 

Market  Value 

Weighted  Unit 

Per  Unit 

$.121 

$3,028 

.149 

2.857 

.163 

2.676 

.170 

2.637 

.190 

2.680 

1993 


1992 


Land  and  land  improvements 

Buildings 

Equipment 

Less:  accumulated  depreciation 


4,370,848 
58,890,108 
15,321,481 


I  4,258,848 
57,441,189 
11,383,872 


78,582,437 
27,332,949 


73,083,909 
23,468,634 


$51,249,488 


$49,615,275 


In  fiscal  1993,  the  Institute  funded  $1,681,094,  a  portion  of  the  depreciation  expense,  as  a  nonmandatory 
transfer  from  the  current  funds  to  the  plant  funds.  Other  transfers  include  $812,455  of  gifts  the  Institute  trans- 
ferred relating  to  capital  projects  completed  during  the  year  from  the  restricted  funds  to  the  plant  fund. 


F8 


Fall  1993 


6.  Long-Term  Debt: 

Long-term  debt  at  June  30,  1993,  amounted  to  $34,163,774.  Schedule  I  summarizes  the  components  of  long- 
term  debt.  The  aggregate  amounts  of  principal  due  for  each  of  the  next  five  fiscal  years  are  as  follows: 

1994  $  902,288 

1995  968,082 

1996  1,034,309 

1997  1,091,004 

1998  1,158,004 

85,153,687 


On  Oct.  1,  1988,  the  Institute  deposited  with  Trustees  sufficient  funds  to  defease  HEFA  Series  B  Bonds, 
which  mature  July  1,  2000.  The  amount  of  Series  B  principal  outstanding  at  June  30,  1993,  was  $5,285,000. 

During  fiscal  1992,  the  Institute  issued  $23,745,000  HEFA  Series  E  bonds,  which  pay  annual  interest  rates 
ranging  from  6.0  percent  to  6.75  percent  and  mature  Sept.  1,  2001  through  Sept.  1,  2017.  Proceeds  of  the 
bonds  were  used  to  refund  the  $23,000,000  HEFA.  Series  D  bonds,  which  had  a  fixed  interest  rate  of  6.75  per- 
cent to  March  1,  1992,  and  a  variable  rate  thereafter  until  maturity  at  Sept.  1,  2018.  The  bonds  are  collateral- 
ized by  pledged  tuition  receipts. 

In  compliance  with  the  Institute's  various  bond  indentures,  deposits  with  Trustees  at  June  30,  1993, 
include  investments  in  debt  service  and  reserve  funds  of  $455,330. 

The  bond  agreements  contain  restrictive  covenants  that,  among  other  restrictions,  include  the  mainte- 
nance of  certain  financial  ratios. 

At  June  30,  1993,  the  Institute  had  outstanding  an  interest  rate  swap  agreement  with  an  investment  bro- 
ker, having  a  total  notional  principal  amount  of  $30,000,000.  The  agreement  effectively  changes  the  interest 
rate  exposure  on  the  Series  C  and  E  (see  Schedule  I,  below)  bonds  to  a  variable  rate  based  on  a  specified 
bond  index,  commencing  in  fiscal  1992  and  terminating  in  fiscal  1997.  The  Institute  is  exposed  to  credit  loss  in 
the  event  of  nonperformance  by  the  other  party  to  the  interest  rate  swap  agreement.  However,  the  Institute 
does  not  anticipate  nonperformance  by  the  counterparty. 

Schedule  I.  Summary  of  Bonds  and  Mortgages  Payable,  June  30,  1993 


Student  Aid 


Amount 

Balance, 

Maturity 

Interest 

Original 

Due  Within 

June  30, 

Purpose  and  Description 

Date 

Rate% 

Issue 

One  Year 

1993 

Bonds  Payable: 

Housing  and  Urban  Development: 

Series  A- April  1, 1969  (1)  July  1, 1997 

Series  B  -  April  1 , 1 969  (2)  July  1 ,  200 1 

Series  C -April  1,1969  (3)  July  1,2019 


Massachusetts  Health  and  Educational 
Facilities  Authority: 

Series  A-  July  1, 1977  (4)  July  1,  2003 

Series  C  -  Oct.  1 ,  1 988  (5)  Sept.  1 ,  2000 

Series  E-  Dec.  1, 1991  (6)  Sept.  1,  2017 


2  7< 
3JA 
3.0 


;  987,000 
919,000 
,160,000 


45,000 
35,000 
20,000 


237,000 
324,000 
817,000 


100,000 


,378,000 


4.7-5.3  4,150,000 

5.7-7.1  7,985,000 

6-6.75        23,745,000 


155,000 
570,000 


1,970,000 

5,900,000 

23,745,000 


725,000 


31,615,000 


Mortgages  Payable: 
Ellsworth-Fuller  Student 
Residence  Center  (7) 


Dec.  31,  2003 


7'/< 


1,950,000 


77,288 


1,170,774 


77,288 


1,170,774 


Total  bonds  and  mortgages  payable  (8) 


$902,288       $34,163,774 


0        3        6        9       12      15 

MillionsofDollars 
"Constant    YearsendingJune30, 1984-93 
*  1983  Base 


Instruction  and 
Library  Expenditures 
'93  wm 

15. 

'92  EH 

15.8 

'91  BE 

15.8 

'90EE 

16.0 

'89EE 

15.9 

'88111] 

15.1 

'87B33 

14.8 

'86100! 

13.9 

'85  SEE 

12.2 

'84  nu 

11.0 

0        4       8      12      16      20 

1*1HJ<'i!piI   MillionsofDollars 
"Constant    Years  ending  June  30, 1 984-93 
"1983  Base 


mem 


WPI  Journal 


F9 


AnnualAlumni 
Fund  Giving 

'93KB 

1.3 

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i       i 

0         .4        .8       1.2      1.6 

WtHTOI   Millions  of  Dollars 
' Constant    Years endingjune30,1 984-93 
"1983  Base 


Gifts  and 
Bequests  Received 

'93EEB 

9.3 

'92KB 

5.4 

91  mm 

8.0 

'90KB 

5.6 

'89KB 

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5.0 

0  3         6  9         12 

WtlllJJi'il  Millionsof Dollars 

■  Constant    Years  ending  June  30, 1 984-93 

'1983  Base 

Includes  $3.2  mil.  gifts-in-kind 


(1)  Collateralized  by  land,  building  and  equipment  known  as  Morgan  Hall  (carried  on  the  accounts  at 
$907,388)  and  pledged  net  revenues  from  the  operations  of  the  dormitory  and  dining  hall  located  therein. 

(2)  Collateralized  by  land,  building  and  equipment  known  as  Daniels  Hall  (carried  on  the  accounts  at 
$650,808)  and  pledged  net  revenues  from  the  operations  of  the  dormitory  and  bookstore  located  therein. 

(3)  Collateralized  by  land,  building  and  equipment  known  as  Stoddard  Residence  Center  (carried  on  the 
accounts  at  $864,052)  and  pledged  net  revenues  from  the  operations  of  the  dormitory  and  health  service 
located  therein. 

(4)  Pledged  as  collateral  are  $2,167,000  of  internally  designated  endowment  funds  equal  to  110  percent  of  the 
principal  amount  of  the  bonds  outstanding  and  are  held  by  a  Trustee  in  the  Debt  Service  Reserve  Fund. 
Various  academic  revenues  are  pledged  as  security  for  the  HEFA  Series  A  bonds. 

(5)  Various  academic  revenues  are  pledged  as  security  for  the  HEFA  Series  C  bonds. 

(6)  The  bonds  are  collateralized  by  pledged  tuition  receipts. 

(7)  Interest  is  at  7  '/<  percent,  of  which  3  percent  is  paid  by  the  Institute  and  the  balance  is  paid  by  the  U.S. 
Department  of  Housing  and  Urban  Development. 

(8)  The  total  debt  outstanding  at  June  30,  1993,  approximates  fair  value  based  on  estimates  using  current 
interest  rates  available  for  debt  with  the  same  remaining  maturities. 

7.  Pension  Plans: 

The  Institute  contributes  to  a  defined  contribution  plan  (TIAA-CREF)  for  academic  and  nonacademic  person- 
nel. Contributions  to  TIAA-CREF  are  based  on  a  percentage  of  payroll.  The  Institute's  pension  costs  amounted 
to  $2,058,090  and  $1,886,501  for  fiscal  years  ended  1993  and  1992,  respectively. 

8.  Pledges  Receivable: 

As  of  June  30,  1993,  management  estimates  that  outstanding  pledges  approximate  $7,902,000.  The  pledges  are 
not  included  in  the  financial  statements  since  it  is  not  practicable  to  estimate  the  net  realizable  value  of  such 
pledges.  Pledges  consist  primarily  of  restricted  bequests  that  will  be  received  at  a  future  point  in  time. 

9.  Commitments: 

The  Institute  is  in  the  third  year  of  an  agreement  with  Endowment  Realty  Investors  Inc.  to  purchase 
$3,000,000  of  shares  by  June  30,  1994.  This  fund  invests  in  commercial  real  estate  nationwide.  As  of  June  30, 
1993,  the  Institute  had  purchased  shares  amounting  to  $2,813,000  and  has  a  remaining  commitment  under  the 
agreement  of  $187,000. 

The  Institute  has  guaranteed  a  $297,000  mortgage  debt  of  a  fraternity.  The  mortgage  is  collateralized  by 
the  property. 

The  Institute  is  obligated  under  noncancelable  operating  leases  for  various  facilities  and  equipment. 
Assets  under  these  lease  agreements  consist  of  office  furniture,  computer  equipment,  office  space  and  stor- 
age facilities. 

Commitments  under  noncancelable  operating  leases  provide  for  minimum  rental  payments  aggregating 
$682,700  for  the  five-year  period  ended  June  30,  1998.  Rental  expense  for  the  year  ended  June  30,  1993,  was 
$326,272. 

10.  Contingencies: 

The  Institute  has  pending  several  cases  that  have  arisen  in  the  normal  course  of  its  operations.  The  Institute 
believes  that  the  outcome  of  these  cases  will  have  no  material  adverse  effect  on  the  Institute's  financial 
position. 

The  Institute's  sponsored  research  program  and  indirect  cost  recovery  are  subject  to  future  audits  by 
the  respective  sponsoring  federal  agencies  as  provided  for  in  federal  sponsored  research  regulations. 
Management  believes  that  such  audits  will  not  have  a  materially  adverse  effect  on  the  Institute's  financial 
position. 


F10 


Fall  1993 


As  of  June  30, 1993 

Board  of  Trustees 

Numbers  in  parentheses  indicate  trustee  committee  appointments. 


Officers  of  the  Institute 


M  Howard  Jacobson  (3,5,6,10) 
Chairman 

Senior  Advisor,  Private  Bank,  at 

Bankers  Trust 

John  M.  Nelson  (1,3,5,6) 
Vice  Chairman 

Chairman  and  CEO,  Wyman- 

Gordon  Company 

Paul  A.  Allaire '60  rag 
Chairman  and  CEO,  Xerox 
Corporation 

Paul  W.  Bayliss  '60  (1.4,5,8) 
Director  of  Continuing  Education 
for  Business,  University  of 
Southern  Maine 

Robert  H.  Beckett  '57  (2,4,10) 
Chairman  and  CEO,  Robec 
Distributors 

William  P.  Densmore  '45  (1,2,3) 
Executive  Director,  Worcester 
Consortium  for  Higher  Education 

Howard  G.  Freeman  '40  (1,3,5) 
Founder  and  CEO,  Retired, 
Jamesbury  Corporation 

John  J.  Gabarro  '61  (1,3,5,8) 
UPS  Foundation  Professor  of 
Human  Resource  Management, 
Harvard  Business  School 

Barbara  Bain  Gatison  74  (1,4,8) 
President,  SNET  America  Inc. 

James  N.  Heald  II  (5,7,9) 
Retired 

Peter  H.  Horstmann  '55  (1,5,9) 
Director  of  Human  Resources, 
Chronicle  Publishing  Company 

John  E.  Hossack  '46  (2,3,7) 
Retired 

Wilfrid  J.  Houde  '59  (1,4) 
Partner,  Knowledge  Resources  Inc. 

Charles  C.  Johnston  '57  (2,4,5, 7) 
Ventex  Technologies 

Paul  J.  Keating  II  '64  (1,6,9) 
Treasurer  and  CEO,  P.J.  Keating 
Company 

Gordon  B.  Lankton  (4,6,7) 
President,  Nypro  Inc. 

Peter  H.  LevJne  (1) 
President  and  CEO,  The  Medical 
Center  of  Central  Massachusetts 

Claude  P.  Mancel  '71  (1,4) 
Vice  President  for  Research  and 
Development,  Europe  and  Middle 
East,  N.V.  Procter  &  Gamble 
Company 

F.  William  Marshall  Jr.  (3,5, 7) 
President  and  CEO,  Springfield 
Institute  for  Savings 

Myles  McDonough  (9,10) 
Chairman  of  the  Board,  Flexcon 
Company  Inc. 

Judith  Nitsch  '75  (1,5,9) 
President,  Judith  Nitsch 
Engineering  Inc. 

David  P.  Norton  '62  (3, 10) 
President,  Renaissance  Strategy 
Group 


John  F.  O'Brien  (3, 7) 
President  and  CEO,  Allmerica 
Financial 

Windle  B.  Priem  '59  (3,8,10) 
Managing  Director  of  Financial 
Services,  Korn/Ferry  International 

Leonard  E.  Redon  '73  (1,9) 
General  Manager  and  Vice 
President,  Market  Development, 
Imaging  Group,  Eastman  Kodak 
Company 

Carol  L.  Reinisch  (1,2,3) 
Chairman,  Department  of 
Comparative  Medicine,  Tufts 
University  School  of  Veterinary 
Medicine 

John  J.  Shields  '69  (3,5,10) 
President  and  CEO,  Spartis  Inc. 

Gordon  H.  Sigman  Jr.  '59  (3,10) 
Vice  President  and  General 
Manager,  Regional  and  General 
Aviation  Products,  Hamilton 
Standard 

Robert  C.  Stempel  '55  (4,10) 
RP  Associates;  Chairman  and  CEO, 
Retired,  General  Motors 
Corporation 

Jon  C.  Strauss  (1,3,5,6) 
President,  Worcester  Polytechnic 
Institute 

Donald  Taylor  '49  (4,5,8,10) 
Associate,  Sullivan  Associates 

Ronald  L.  Zarrella  '71  (1,4,5) 
President  and  CEO,  Bausch  & 
Lomb  Inc. 

Emeriti  Members 

Walter  J.  Bank  '46  (I) 
Director  of  Marketing,  DCS 
Corporation 

John  Lott  Brown  '46 
Retired  President  Emeritus, 
University  of  South  Florida 

Robert  Cushman 
Chairman  of  the  Board,  Retired, 
Norton  Company 

C.  Marshall  Dann  '35  (10) 
Dann,  Dorfman,  Herrell  and 
Skillman 

Richard  A.  Davis  '53  (1) 
Vice  President-Operations, 
Creative  Gifts  International  Inc. 

William  A.  Delphos  '74  (1,4) 
President,  Delphos  International 

Albert  M.  Demont  '31 
Retired 

Irving  James  Donahue  Jr.  '44 
Chairman  of  the  Board,  Donahue 
Industries  Inc. 

Raymond  J.  Forkey  '40  (3,4) 
President.  Retired,  Coppus 
Engineering  Corporation 

Anson  C.  Fyler  '45 
Management  Consultant 

Joseph  Glasser  '35  (1) 
Consultant 


Caleb  D.  Hammond  '37  (1) 
Chairman  ,  Hammond  Inc. 

William  E.  Hanson  '32 
Retired 

Francis  S.  Harvey  '37  (9) 
President  and  Treasurer,  Harvey  & 
Tracy  Associates  Inc. 

Milton  P.  Higgins 
Retired 

George  L.  Hogeman 
Retired 

Chandler  W.  Jones  '26 
Retired 

Carl  W.  Lewin  '39 
Retired 

C.  John  Lindegren  Jr.  '39  (1) 
President,  Lindco  Inc. 

Arthur  J.  LoVetere  '60  (2,3,7) 
Retired 

John  C.  Metzger  Jr.  '46  (4) 
Group  Vice  President,  Retired,  E.I. 
du  Pont  de  Nemours  &  Co.  Inc. 

Charles  R.  Michel  '37  (1) 
Retired 

Stanley  C.  Olsen 
President,  Gulf  to  Lakes 
Corporation 

Hilliard  W.Paige '41 

Raymond  J.  Perreault  '38  (9) 
President,  Falls  Machine  Screw 
Company  Inc. 

Donald  E.  Ross  '54 
Retired,  MPB  Corporation 

Miriam  B.  Rutman  (1,4) 
President,  The  Herald  Press 

George  E.  Saltus  '53 
Retired 

Dorothy  M.  Simon 

S.  Merrill  Skeist  '40  (4,10) 
President,  Spellman  High  Voltage 
Electronics  Corporation 

George  A.  Walker  '22 
Retired 

Howard  C.  Warren  '42 
Retired 

Robert  J.  Whipple  (10) 
Fletcher,  Tilton  &  Whipple  P.C. 

Leonard  H.  White  '41  (9) 
Chairman  and  Treasurer,  R.H. 
White  Construction  Company 

Key  to  the  Committees 
of  the  Board 

(Assignments  effective  July  1,  1993) 

1.  Academic  Planning 
and  Student  Affairs 

2.  Audit 

3.  Budget  and  Finance 

4.  Development 

5.  Executive 

6.  Executive  Compensation 

7.  Investment 

8.  Nominating 

9.  Physical  Facilities 
10.  Trusteeship 


Jon  C.  Strauss 
President 

Stephen  J.  Hebert 
Vice  President  for 
Administration 

Office  of  Academic 
Affairs 

Diran  Apelian 
Provost  and  Vice 
President  for  Academic 
Affairs 

Kevin  A.  Clements 
Dean  of  Graduate  Studies 
and  Research 

Francis  C.  Lutz 
Dean  of  Undergraduate 
Studies 

Ann  C.  Garvin 
Director  of  Academic 
Advising 

Lance  Schachterle 
Associate  Dean  of 
Undergraduate  Studies 

Helen  M.  Shuster 
Head  Librarian 

School  of  Industrial 
Management 

Nicholas  L.  Onorato 
Director 

Master  of  Mathematics 
Program 

Peter  R.  Christopher 
Director 

Master  of  Natural 
Science  Program 

Ronald  D.  Cheetham 
Director 

Office  of  Business 
Affairs 

Robert  W.  Gailey 
Treasurer  and  Vice 
President  for  Business 
Affairs 

Frank  P.  Conti 
Controller 

Sylvia  Cucinotta 
Assistant  Treasurer 

Computing  Services 

James  J.  Jackson  Jr. 
Director,  College 
Computer  Center 

Legal  Counsel 

Fletcher,  Tilton  & 
Whipple  P.C. 

Office  of  Plant 
Services 

John  E.  Miller 
Associate  Vice  President 
for  Business  Affairs  and 
Director  of  Physical  Plant 


Division  of  Student 
Affairs 

Bernard  H.  Brown 
Associate  Provost  for 
Student  Affairs 

Janet  Begin  Richardson 
Dean  of  Student  Life 

Office  of  University 
Relations 

Donald  F.  Berth 
Vice  President 

Academic  Department 
Heods 

James  A.  Walsh  Jr. 
Aerospace  Studies 

Joseph  C.  Bagshaw 
Biology  and 
Biotechnology 

Robert  A.  Peura 
Biomedical  Engineering 

Albert  Sacco  Jr. 
Chemical  Engineering 

James  W.  Pavlik 
Chemistry 

Robert  W.  Fitzgerald 
Civil  Engineering 

Robert  E.  Kinicki 
Computer  Science 

Lance  E.  Schachterle 
Interdisciplinary  Studies 
Division 

John  A.  Orr 
Electrical  and  Computer 
Engineering 

David  A.  Lucht 
Center  for  Firesafety 
Studies 

Jo  Ann  Manfra 
Humanities 

Helen  G.  Vassallo 
Management 

Samuel  M.  Rankin  III 
Mathematical  Sciences 

Mohammad  N.  Noori 
Mechanical  Engineering 

Paul  D.  Jones 
Military  Science 

Raymond  R.  Gilbert 
Physical  Education  and 
Athletics 

Stephen  N.  Jasperson 
Physics 

Douglas  W.  Woods 
Social  Science  and  Policy 
Studies 


WPI  Journal 


Fll 


':    ■■  ■■■■ 


W'*S 


i 


■**& 


Year  in  Review 


Above,  from  left,  Blue 
Ribbon  Task  Force  mem- 
bers Raymond  Hagglund 
and  Albert  Sacco  listen  to 
members  of  the  audience 
after  an  open  meeting  in 
the  spring  of  1 992.  Task 
force  member  and  WPI 
trustee  Peter  Horstmann 
is  in  the  background. 
Right,  Clarkson  Univer- 
sity President  Richard 
Gallagher  addresses 
guests  at  the  Alden  Cele- 
bration. The  great  hall  of 
Alden  Memorial  forms  the 
background  for  this  page. 


/  992-93: 

Setting  the  Stage  for 

the  Future 


By  Jon  C.  Strauss 

The  work  of  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  (BRTF) 
formed  the  centerpiece  of  an  eventful  year  at 
Worcester  Polytechnic  Institute.  In  fact,  the  365 
days  from  July  1,  1992,  to  June  30,  1993,  were 
filled  with  the  kinds  of  accomplishments  and  milestones 
that  not  only  advance  the  mission  of  the  Institute,  but 
set  the  stage  for  future  growth  and  excellence. 

One  of  the  more  significant  events  of  the  year  was 
the  completion  of  an  updated  campus  master  plan  by 
the  firm  of  Earl  R.  Flansburgh  &  Associates.  Flansburgh 
drafted  a  detailed  campus  plan  in  1982  that  provided 
the  impetus  for  such  campus  improvements  as 
Founders  Hall,  and  also  helped  in  the  site  selection  for 
Fuller  Laboratories. 

The  updated  plan  focused  on  four  areas:  facility 
needs  in  student  residences,  mechanical  engineering 
space  requirements,  the  feasibility  of  a  proposed  cam- 
pus center,  and  issues  surrounding  parking  on  campus. 
While  a  plateau  in  student  interest  in  residing  on  cam- 
pus appears  to  have  rendered  the  residence  question 
moot  (at  least  in  the  short  term),  significant  interest  has 
been  demonstrated  in  the  other  three  areas. 

The  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  Report  spoke  directly  to 
the  issues  of  the  campus  center  and  parking  (see  article 
on  page  3).  In  addition,  good  progress  has  been  made 
on  the  mechanical  engineering  project.  Preliminary 
plans  have  been  drafted  for  a  renovation  of  Higgins  Lab- 
oratories that  should  provide  the  needed  upgrade  of 
existing  space  and  the  addition  of  new  space  for  re- 
search, education  and  project  work.  At  the  same  time, 
funding  for  the  project  is  reaching  a  critical  mass. 

On  April  22,  1993,  the  George  I.  Alden  Trust 
announced  its  gift  of  $2.4  million  for  the  Higgins  renova- 
tion. The  gift,  announced  during  a  celebration  on  cam- 
pus of  the  150th  birthday  of  Alden,  the  Institute's  first 
professor  of  mechanical  engineering,  was  the  largest 
ever  made  by  the  trust  and  the  second  largest  gift  ever 
received  by  WPI.  With  earlier  gifts,  which  total  some 
$2.5  million,  with  outstanding  proposals  to  national 
foundations  seeking  some  $1.6  million,  and  with  the 
solid  prospect  of  anniversary  class  gifts  to  make  up  the 
difference,  the  bulk  of  the  funding  for  this  project  could 
soon  be  in  hand. 

What  follows  is  a  summary  of  some  of  the  other  signifi- 
cant accomplishments  of  the  1992-93  academic  year.  These 
are  grouped  under  the  headings  of  the  six  goals  of  the 
Institute's  strategic  plan,  illustrating  the  progress  we  con- 
tinue to  make  toward  reaching  those  overarching  targets. 


WPF  JOITRNAL 


Students  register  at  the 
start  of  another  academic 
year  in  August  1992. 
From  a  grant  to  develop 
a  new  model  of  education 
based  on  collaborative 
learning,  to  new  develop- 
ments in  globalization,  to 
major  curricular  reviews 
in  several  departments, 
WPI's  undergraduate 
program  was  an  impor- 
tant focus  of  activity  in 
1992-93. 


Fall  1993 


Goal  I:  Enhance  the 
Level  of  Excellence  in 
Undergraduate  Education 

•  The  combined  B.S./D.V.M.  program  that 
WPI  established  with  Tufts  University 
School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  in  1992 
yielded  14  freshmen  for  1993-94,  up  from 
five  for  its  first  year  of  operation.  The  pro- 
gram enables  a  student  to  earn  admission 
to  both  WPI  and  Tufts  while  still  a  senior  in 
high  school. 

•  A  major  grant  from  the  Davis  Educational 
Foundation  supported  educational  initia- 
tives in  the  departments  of  Biology  and 
Biotechnology,  Civil  Engineering,  Com- 
puter Science,  and  Mathematical  Sciences. 
These  initiatives  will  introduce  the  active, 
collaborative  learning  typical  of  the  WPI 
Plan  projects  into  first-  and  second-year 
courses  in  a  cost-effective  manner. 

•  The  new  Entrepreneurs  Collaborative, 
modeled  on  the  highly  successful  Inter- 
national Scholars  Program,  will  begin  next 
year.  Donald  F.  Berth  '57,  outgoing  vice 
president  for  university  relations,  and 
Arthur  Gerstenfeld,  professor  of  manage- 
ment, are  leading  a  group  of  faculty  repre- 
senting most  departments  in  this  effort, 
which  will  seek  to  teach  students  the  skills 
of  entrepreneurship. 

•The  Massachusetts  Academy  of  Math- 
ematics and  Science  was  integrated  into 
WPl's  continuing  commitment  to  improv- 
ing pre-college  science  and  mathematics 
education.  Forty  outstanding  high  school 
seniors  from  Central  Massachusetts  were 
involved  in  the  pilot-year  program.  They 
will  all  be  attending  prestigious  universi- 
ties next  year;  16  will  be  enrolling  at  WPI. 

•  WPI's  highly  successful  Global  Perspective 
Program  continued  to  expand.  The  pro- 
gram, which  exposes  students  to  other  cul- 
tures through  on-campus  programs  and 
through  project  and  course  work  abroad, 
has  received  the  support  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Education  through  its  Fund  for  the 
Improvement  of  Post-Secondary  Education 
(FIPSE),  the  Xerox  Foundation,  and  the  U.S. 
Agency  for  International  Development. 

One  of  the  highlights  of  the  year  for 
the  program  was  the  opening  of  the  Ecua- 
dor Project  Center,  the  newest  of  18  pro- 
ject sites  around  the  world,  which  saw  its 
first  IQP  students  complete  projects.  It  is 
anticipated  that  221  students  will  partici- 
pate in  off-campus  projects  in  1993-94,  an 
increase  of  21  percent  over  1992-93. 

•  Major  curriculum  reviews  were  accom- 
plished during  the  year  in  the  Electrical 
and  Computer  Engineering,  Civil  Engi- 
neering, Computer  Science  and  Mechanical 
Engineering  departments. 


Above,  with  professor  James 
Rollings,  director  of  the  new  Ecuador 
Project  Center,  are  four  of  the  first 
five  students  to  conduct  projects 
there:  from  left,  Robert  Jessop  '94, 
James  Watson  '94,  Joshua  Dobbelaar 
'94  and  John  Coyle  '94.  Right,  stu- 
dents work  in  WPI's  Aluminum 
Casting  Research  Laboratory- 

•  The  Class  of  1997  should  exceed  the  bud- 
geted 675  freshmen  and  will  be  of  excellent 
quality.  Women  should  constitute  22  per- 
cent of  the  class,  up  from  18  percent  last 
year.  Almost  5  percent  of  the  class  will  be 
minorities,  up  from  2  percent  last  year. 
This  success  is  tempered,  however,  by  the 
fact  that  to  achieve  this  class  WPI  admit- 
ted 83.5  percent  of  all  applicants,  an  antici- 
pated yield  of  30  percent.  The  Institute 
also  discounted  its  tuition  an  average  of  28 
percent  with  institutional  financial  aid  to 
attract  the  class.  As  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task 
Force  pointed  out,  the  recent  unfortunate 
trends  in  these  indicators  must  be 
slowed — if  not  reversed — to  assure  a 
viable  future  for  WPI. 

Goal  2:  Enhance  the  Level 
of  Excellence  in  Graduate 
Education 

•  At  Commencement  on  May  22,  1993,  WPI 
awarded  28  Ph.D.s.  The  four-year  running 
average  number  of  doctorates  awarded 
has  gone  from  seven  to  21  over  the  last 
nine  years,  a  strong  testament  to  the  im- 
proving quality  and  quantity  of  faculty 
scholarship  at  WPI. 

•Several  new  graduate  programs  were 
developed  during  the  year.  They  include: 
-a  master's  degree  program  in  computer 
and  communications,  a  joint  venture  of 


the  Electrical  and  Computer  Engineering 
and  Computer  Science  departments, 

-  an  interdisciplinary  graduate  program  in 
the  Management  of  Manufacturing, 

-a  joint  degree  program  with  the  Uni- 
versity of  Massachusetts  Medical  Center 
in  biomedical  engineering  and  medical 
physics, 

-  a  graduate  research  internship  program 
developed  by  the  Mechanical  Engi- 
neering Department  in  collaboration  with 
the  Russian  Academy  of  Sciences,  and 

-the  new  Industrial  Internship  Program  in 
fire  protection  engineering. 

Goal  3:  Increase  the 
Quality  and  Quantity  of 
Research  and  its 
Recognition 

•  WPI's  two  new  multidisciplinary  research 
centers,  the  Applied  Bioengineering  Center 
and  the  Center  for  Intelligent  Processing  of 
Materials — made  good  progress  with  the 
help  of  modest  seed  funding. 

•  Research  support  totaled  $5.7  million,  an 
increase  of  4.9  percent  from  the  previous 


WPI  Journal 


15 


\ 


T 


k  I 


Per  Enge,  standing,  left, 
associate  professor  of 
electrical  and  computer 
engineering,  works  with 
a  Major  Qualifying  Proj- 
ect team  on  research  on 
the  Global  Positioning 
System.  Enge  spent 
1992-93  on  sabbatical 
leave  at  Stanford  Univer- 
sity continuing  this  re- 
search. The  students  are, 
from  left,  Jay  McGaffigan 
'92,  Melinda  Nadeau  '92 
and  Patrick  Campbell  '92. 
Enhancing  the  quality 
and  quantity  of  research 
on  campus  was  a  focus 
of  a  number  of  initiatives 
during  the  year. 


/ 


/ 


\ 


• 


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llllll  I  ti  I  .  .  > I  I  tl  I  •■  I  I  I  I 

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MM 


Fall  1993, 


period.  (This  does  not  include  funding  for 
the  Center  for  High  Performance  Com- 
puting and  over  $1  million  in  gifts  designat- 
ed to  support  research.) 

•  The  Realization  Manufacturing  Coalition, 
which  includes  WPI,  MIT,  Cornell,  Tuske- 
gee  and  North  Carolina  A&T,  was  initiated 
under  WPl's  leadership  with  a  proposal  to 
the  Defense  Conversion  Technology 
Reinvestment  Program. 

•The  Aluminum  Casting  Research  Lab- 
oratory was  designated  a  Department  of 
Energy  Center  for  Metal  Casting  under  the 
metal  initiative  program. 

•  More  than  $500,000  in  research  equipment 
was  obtained  through  the  new  Excess  Prop- 
erty Program  of  the  federal  government. 

Goal  4:  Enhance  the 
Quality  of  Life  on  Campus 

Diversity 

•  Two-thirds  of  the  first  class  of  students  in 
WPFs  Strive  for  College  and  Careers  in 
Mathematics,  Engineering  and  Science  pro- 
gram applied  for  admission  to  WPI;  10  will 
matriculate  as  members  of  the  Class  of 
1997.  The  second  Strive  class  attracted  105 
applicants. 

•  The  Office  of  Human  Resources  is  imple- 
menting the  recommendations  of  an  affir- 
mative action  audit  of  WPI  conducted  by 
the  Office  of  Federal  Contracts  Compliance 
Program,  a  division  of  the  U.S.  Department 
of  Labor. 

•  New  initiatives  are  being  explored  to 
attract  more  minority  faculty  members. 
These  include  partnerships  with  historical- 
ly black  universities  and  the  recruitment  of 
minority  graduate  students. 

•  A  special  minority  student  advising  pro- 
gram has  been  developed  to  facilitate  aca- 
demic success  and  student  retention. 

Community  Life 

•  A  new  $300,000  Fitness  Center  in  the  lower 
level  of  Alumni  Gym  opened  for  business  in 
early  September  1992.  The  facility,  funded 
with  anniversary  gifts  from  the  classes  of 
1952,  1953,  1967  and  1968,  includes  equip- 
ment for  aerobic  exercise  and  weight  train- 
ing. The  center  has  proven  quite  popular, 
averaging  more  than  300  users  per  day. 

•  The  new  Community  Council  championed 
the  implementation  of  the  recommenda- 
tions of  the  Commission  on  Residential 
and  Social  Life  while  working  to  improve 
the  sense  of  campus  community. 

•  A  late-night  study  facility  for  individual  stu- 
dents and  project  teams  was  opened  in 
Fuller  Laboratories. 

•  The  Board  of  Trustees  voted  to  invite  rep- 
resentatives from  the  undergraduate 
Student  Government  Association  and  the 


Graduate  Student  Organization  to  attend  its 

meetings  as  observers. 

•  The  services  of  the  Career  Development 
Center  were  expanded  to  include  a  job 
development  coordinator,  two  new  tele- 
phone information  systems,  a  departmen- 
tal resume  database,  a  job  search  support 
network  for  alumni  and  graduating  seniors, 
a  bimonthly  newsletter,  and  a  variety  of 
training  programs. 


Institute  Hall  became  a  24-hour  quiet  living 
area  and  space  in  Stoddard  A  was  set  aside 
as  a  substance-free  living  area.  In  addition,  a 
grant  has  been  solicited  from  FIPSE  to  devel- 
op a  Healthy  Alternatives  program  and  to 
enhance  alcohol  education  efforts. 

Goal  5: 

Meet  the  Needs  of 
Professionals  for 
Continuing  Education 

•  Ninety  professional  development  seminars 
were  held  in  such  areas  as  project  man- 
agement, quality  improvement,  manage- 
ment and  communication  skills,  bar-code 
technology,  and  laboratory  automation. 

•  Forty  customized  in-house  training  pro- 
grams were  introduced  at  firms  in  New  Eng- 
land, New  York,  New  Jersey  and  California. 

•  Several  faculty-led  short  courses  were  held 
on  campus. 


<5 


3t 


Top,  participants  in  the  Nypro  Leadership  Institute  at  WPI  take  part  in  a 
team-building  workshop.  Bottom,  the  new  Fitness  Center  in  Alumni  Gym. 


Physical  Environment 

•  Lounges,  study  areas  and  computer  termi- 
nals were  added  to  residence  halls  and 
academic  buildings. 

•  Graduate  student  housing  was  developed 
in  two  off-campus  houses. 

•  Responding  to  student  concerns,  the  WPI 
Food  Service  renovated  and  restructured 
several  of  its  dining  service  facilities. 
Included  are  a  new  wok  station  in  Morgan 
Commons  where  students  can  prepare 
their  own  meals,  a  larger  grill  where  items 
are  cooked  to  order,  and  expanded  healthy 
choice  and  vegetarian  options.  New  meal 
plan  options  give  students  greater  flexibili- 
ty in  the  number  of  meals  they  purchase 
and  where  on  campus  they  dine. 

•  WPI's  Office  of  Residential  Services  inaugu- 
rated two  special-interest  housing  alterna- 
tives in  the  fall  of  1992.  The  third  floor  of 


•WPI  inaugurated  the  Nypro  Leadership 
Institute,  a  week-long  residency  program 
for  mid-level  managers  from  the  worldwide 
facilities  of  Nypro  Corp.,  a  maker  of  preci- 
sion plastic  industrial  components  and  as- 
semblies headquartered  in  Clinton,  Mass. 

•  An  Advanced  Certificate  Program  was  im- 
plemented in  civil,  electrical  and  mechani- 
cal engineering,  and  in  computer  science. 

Goal  6: 

Strengthen  WPI'S  External 

Relationships 

•  The  WPI  Alumni  Association  developed  a 
new  Alumni  Master  Plan  that  places  greater 
emphasis  on  service  and  involvement. 

•  WPI  was  the  focus  of  300  news  stories  and 
several  radio  and  television  interviews. 


WPI  Journal 


17 


A  member  of  the  Class  of  1 993  shows  off  his 
diploma  at  Commencement  in  May,  the  tradi- 
tional close  of  the  school  year.  Improvements 
in  WPI's  Career  Development  Center  in  1992-93 
were  aimed  at  helping  graduates  get  a  good 
start  in  the  world  beyond  WPI,  while  a  new 
Alumni  Master  Plan  was  designed  to  encourage 
them  to  stay  involved  in  the  Institute  once 
they've  made  that  all-important  transition. 


Fall  1993 


•  Once  again  in  1992,  WPI  was  ranked  No.  1 
among  comprehensive  institutions  in  the 
North  by  U.S.  News  and  World  Report. 

•  The  George  I.  Alden  Society  was  inaugu- 
rated with  154  charter  members  making 
planned  giving  commitments  of  at  least 
$25,000.  The  Presidential  Founders,  which 
recognizes  those  with  cumulative  giving  of 
at  least  $100,000,  added  17  new  members. 

•  The  grand  total  of  cash  gifts  ($9.7  million), 
gifts-in-kind  ($3.4  million)  and  net  new 
pledges  ($4.2  million)  for  the  1992-93  fiscal 
year  was  $17.3  million,  exceeding  the  all- 
time  record  of  $16.5  million  achieved  dur- 
ing the  Campaign  for  Excellence. 

•  Two  new  members  were  elected  to  the  WPI 
Board  of  Trustees  during  the  year:  Warner 
S.  Fletcher,  attorney  and  a  director  of  the 
Worcester  law  firm  Fletcher,  Tilton  and 


EXCLUSIVE        RANKINGS 


0    1992 
•ANNUAL  ; 
--  GUIDE  : 


■     ^%     III  NOILD  HEPD«T 

U.S.News 


AMERICA'S 

BEST  COLLEGES 


§5ji£SsBk.     THE  B£ST 

FOUR-YEAR 
COLLEGES 


AMHERST 

W.P.I. 
HOLY  CROSS 


f  i  - 


BRTF's  recommendation  that  such  projects 
not  be  funded  from  the  operating  budget. 

Finally,  as  we  organize  long-term  efforts  to 
address  the  BRTF  and  Flansburgh  recommen- 
dations, we  will  have  to  continue  the  consid- 
erable progress  we've  made  toward  achiev- 
ing the  goals  of  the  strategic  plan.  Of  particu- 
lar concern  will  be  our  continuing  efforts  at 
maintaining  and  enhancing  our  premiere  aca- 
demic programs,  recruiting  students,  devel- 
oping and  maintaining  a  balanced  budget, 
building  recognition,  improving  diversity, 
assisting  students  and  alumni  with  career 
development,  raising  funds,  and  operating 
our  institution.  Our  work  never  stops! 

Based  on  the  positive  reception  this  past 
year  to  open  campus  meetings  conducted  by 
the  organizers  of  a  series  of  budget  seminars, 
by  the  Community  Council,  and  by  the  Blue 
Ribbon  Task  Force,  we  will  look  to  involve 
the  campus  community  in  all  of  these  endeav- 
ors. And,  we  will  be  alert  to  the  BRTF's  rec- 
ommendation to  employ  the  considerable  tal- 
ents of  our  alumni  wherever  possible. 

Every  member  of  the  WPI  family  should 
take  great  pride  in  the  quality  of  our  distinc- 


Top,  for  the  third  straight  year,  WPI 
was  ranked  at  the  top  of  its  category 
in  the  annual  review  of  America's 
best  colleges  published  by  U.S.  News 
and  World  Report.  Bottom,  plans 
moved  forward  in  1992-93  for  a  major 
renovation  of  Higgins  Laboratories. 
The  project  may  include  the  construe- 
tion  of  a  1 4,000-square-foot  addition 
to  the  west  side  of  the  building,  as 
shown  in  these  artist's  renderings. 

Whipple,  P.C.,  and  Robert  A.  Foisie  '56, 
president  of  Matik  North  America  Inc.,  an 
import,  distribution  and  services  firm 
specializing  in  paper-processing  machin- 
ery. Foisie  joined  the  board  in  July  1993; 
Fletcher  will  take  his  seat  in  January  1994. 
•  The  latest  book  in  the  "Worcester  Poly- 
technic Institute  Studies  in  Science,  Tech- 
nology and  Culture"  series,  Representations 
of  Science  and  Technology  in  British  Lit- 
erature Since  1880  by  Professor  Earl 
Ingersoll  of  the  State  University  of  New 
York  at  Brockport,  was  published  in  No- 
vember 1992. 


Conclusions 

The  work  of  the  Blue  Ribbon  Task  Force  is 
both  a  significant  accomplishment  in  its  own 
right  and  an  enormous  challenge  going  for- 
ward. The  Flansburgh  study  also  presents 
challenges  for  the  future. 

Good  progress  has  been  made  in  plan- 
ning and  funding  the  renovation  of  Higgins 
Laboratories,  but  needs  for  more  teaching 
and  laboratory  space  remain  to  be  ad- 
dressed. The  trustees'  Physical  Facilities 
Committee  is  considering  how  best  to  create 
these  new  facilities  in  combination  with  the 
Higgins  Labs  renovation.  The  members  of 
that  committee  are  mindful  that  these  facili- 
ties must  inevitably  compete  for  philan- 
thropic funds  with  the  campus  center  and 
other  high-priority  capital  projects. 

In  fact,  the  board's  Development  Com- 
mittee has  begun  work  on  identifying  the 
funding  necessary  for  completing  the  Hig- 
gins renovations,  new  laboratory  space  and 
the  campus  center  consistent  with  the 


fJk~;        OS 


tive  institution,  the  substantial  accomplish- 
ments of  the  past  year,  and  the  exciting  chal- 
lenges facing  us  in  the  future.  It  is  the  regular, 
day-in,  day-out  hard  work  of  literally  every 
member  of  this  group  that  provides  the  envi- 
ronment that  makes  everything  else  possible. 

While  we  can't  begin  to  list  this  work  and 
thank  those  responsible  here,  we  should  all 
be  certain  to  recognize  that  some  of  the  best 
teaching,  research,  community  service,  gov- 
ernance, administration,  maintenance  and 
support  are  only  noticed  in  their  absence. 
Against  that  standard,  we  do  well  indeed. 
We  should  take  pride  in  these  many  unsung, 
but  much  appreciated,  accomplishments. 

All  this  didn't  just  happen,  of  course;  it 
was  the  culmination  of  the  foresight  and  im- 
agination of  our  predecessors  over  the  Insti- 
tute's first  128  years,  and  of  the  innovation 
and  diligence  of  the  WPI  community  of  today. 
With  the  goodwill  and  hard  work  of  all  of  us, 
WPI's  next  years  promise  to  be  even  more 
exciting  and  filled  with  accomplishment. 


WPI  Journal 


19 


DEVELOPMENT  HIGHLIGHTS 


Saving  the  Best  for  Last 


By  Donald  F.  Berth  '57 

Vice  President  for  University  Relations 


This  was  the  year  of  George  Alden. 
First,  we  celebrated  the  150th  anni- 
versary of  his  birth  on  April  22, 1992. 
On  that  occasion  we  formally  recog- 
nized the  charter  members  of  the  George  I. 
Alden  Society  and  presented  them  with  spe- 
cially commissioned  charter  medallions. 
Named  in  Alden's  honor,  the  group  was 
launched  at  the  1992  Presidential  Founders 
dinner.  Its  first  154  members  had  all  met  the 
requirement  that  they  provide  WP1  at  least 
$25,000  through  their  estates  or  through 
another  planned  giving  arrangement. 

Crowning  the  April  22  event  was  an 
announcement  by  Francis  Dewey  III,  chair- 
man of  the  George  1.  Alden  Trust,  that  he 
and  his  fellow  trustees  had  voted  to  award 
WP1  a  grant  of  $2.4  million  for  the  renovation 
of  Higgins  Laboratories.  Combined,  the  mini- 
mum commitments  of  the  Alden  Society 
members  and  the  Alden  Trust  grant  made 
for  a  $4.7  million  birthday  party  with  WP1  as 
the  fortunate  recipient. 

The  $2.4  million  grant  was  the  largest  in 
the  81-year  history  of  the  Alden  Trust  and 
the  second  largest  gift  in  WPI's  long  history. 
It  brought  the  trust's  total  giving  to  WP1 
since  1920  to  $10.8  million  (half  of  which  we 
received  in  the  past  decade).  What  a  remark- 
able legacy,  one  that  had  its  start  when  a 
young  George  Alden,  fresh  from  graduat- 
ing— summa  cum  laude — from  Harvard, 
came  to  WPI  in  1868. 

Just  25,  Alden  was  the  youngest  of  the 
original  five  instructors  who  greeted  the  first 
class  of  students  at  the  doors  of  the  newly 
finished  Boynton  Hall  on  Nov.  11,  1868.  For 
25  years,  Alden  would  be  synonymous  with 
excellence  in  instruction  and  leadership  in 
mechanical  engineering  at  WPI.  In  1896, 
through  what  would  prove  to  be  fortuitous 
circumstances  for  WPI,  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion full  time  to  the  development  of  the 
Norton  Emery  Wheel  Co.,  eventually  becom- 
ing its  chairman  and  a  wealthy  businessman. 
It  seemed  especially  fitting  to  identify 
WPI's  newest  donor  recognition  group  with 
Alden.  The  planned  giving  commitments 
made  by  the  charter  members,  and  those 


that  will  be  made  by  future  members,  are 
analogous  to  Alden's  own  living  trust,  which 
continues  to  benefit  WPI  significantly  today. 
And  the  charter  membership  forms  a  solid 
foundation  for  further  development  and 
growth  of  WPI's  total  planned  giving  pro- 
gram. Currently,  the  value  of  the  various 
forms  of  established  planned  gifts  (insur- 
ance policies,  unitrusts,  pooled  income 
funds  and  known  bequests)  exceeds  $14  mil- 
lion. The  Alden  Society  will  help  ensure  an 
ever  larger  and  more  important  flow  of 
resources  to  WPI  in  years  to  come. 

On  Nov.  11, 1992  (Founders  Day),  we  cel- 
ebrated the  seventh  annual  dinner 
event  in  honor  of  our  new  Presidential  Foun- 
ders— some  17  in  all.  Our  custom  has  been 
to  choose  one  founder  each  year  for  special 
attention.  In  1992  we  recognized  Ray  Per- 
reault  and  his  late  wife,  Ina,  for  their  most 
generous  support  of  many  projects  and 
activities  before  and  during  the  16  years  he 
has  spent  on  the  Board  of  Trustees.  A  mem- 
ber of  the  Class  of  1938,  Ray  continues  his 
active  entrepreneurial  career  as  president  of 
Falls  Machine  Screw  Co.  in  Chicopee,  Mass., 
and  his  active  work  for  WPI,  particularly  as  a 
member  of  the  board's  Physical  Facilities 
Committee. 

Presidential  Founders  are  individuals  or 
family  foundations  who  have  given  or 
pledged  to  the  Institute  at  the  level  of  John 
Boynton's  1865  "challenge  gift"  of  $100,000. 
The  development  and  growth  of  this  pro- 
gram has  become  key  to  WPI's  development 
momentum  at  the  highest  end  of  the  giving 
pyramid.  Since  the  establishment  of  the 
Founders  in  1986,  a  growing  number  of  WPI 
alumni  and  friends  have  been  captivated  by 
the  magic  of  "re-endowing"  WPI  by  matching 
the  challenge  Boynton  made  so  many  years 
ago.  During  those  seven  years,  98  new  Foun- 
ders were  added  to  the  roster,  bringing  the 
grand  total  to  202,  including  Boynton. 

Annual  giving  to  WPI's  long-running  and 
well-established  Alumni  Fund  is  another 
important  component  of  the  Institute's  de- 


Ray  Perreault  and  his  late  wife,  Ina, 
in  1978  at  the  dedication  of  the  ren- 
ovated Boynton  Hall,  one  of  the  many 
projects  at  WPI  the  Perreaults  sup- 
ported. Ray  and  Ina's  generosity  was 
celebrated  at  the  seventh  annual 
Presidential  Founders  dinner  in  1992. 


New  Presidential  Founders: 
Ten  Years  of  Growth 


20 


Fall  1993 


Fund-Raising  Results 

(Fiscal  Year  1993) 

Cash  Received 

$10,826,287 


Individuals  []  57.5% 

Corporations  | 1 16.0 

Corp.  Matching  Gifts  §  J    5.0 

Foundations  |     15.1 

Other  |    6.4 

Total  Activity* 

$17,859,798 


Cash  [^57.6% 
Gifts-in-Kind  [|l9.1 


Net  New  Pledges  |  J  23.3 

v  Includes  all  new  gifts  and  pledges  received 
during  the  fiscal  year.  In  addition  to  these, 
there  is  approximately  $24  million  in  outstanding 
pledges  and  other  future  gift  commitments  made 
in  previous  fiscal  years. 


velopment  efforts.  This  year,  through  the 
leadership  of  the  Alumni  Fund  Board  and 
hundreds  of  volunteers,  a  new  record  was 
established— $1,891,383.  With  corporate 
matching  gifts,  the  total  reached  more  than 
$2.4  million.  Nearly  6,000  individuals  con- 
tributed to  this  achievement. 

This  grass-roots  giving  is  extraordinarily 
important,  for  it  helps  provide  WPI  re- 
sources at  the  margin,  where  a  lack  can 
have  greater  limiting  potential  than  is  often 
realized.  Any  successful  private  institution 
must  continually  attract 
"investors"  who  represent 
all  levels  of  support.  No 
alumnus  or  alumna — 
young  or  old — should  ever 
feel  that  his  or  her  gift  is 
too  small  to  matter.  In  this 
regard,  I'm  pleased  that 
the  Fund  Board  is  making 
a  special  effort  to  reach 
alumni  who  graduated 
within  the  past  10  years  to 
bring  them  on  board  as 
new  investors. 

The  President's  Advisory  Council  (PAC) 
set  a  new  membership  mark  of  224  individu- 
als in  FY  1993.  This  high-end  Alumni  Fund 
group  includes  donors  of  at  least  $1,500. 
Collectively,  PAC  members  established  a 
new  giving  record  of  $1,274,908— a  little  bet- 
ter than  two-thirds  of  the  overall  Fund  total. 

It  might  be  worth  pointing  out  that,  given 
the  annual  nature  of  this  giving  program,  the 
funds  raised  from  individual  alumni,  friends 
and  parents  provide  a  dynamic,  continuous 
income  stream.  In  the  absence  of  the  Fund, 
WPI  would  need  to  add  an  additional  $44 
million  to  the  value  of  its  endowment  (using 
WPI's  current  spending  rule)  to  generate  the 
same  level  of  resources. 

While  the  highlights  above  focus  on 
individual  giving,  which  has  account- 
ed for  between  60  and  65  percent  of  our 
total  program  over  the  past  decade,  our  cor- 
porate and  philanthropic  foundation  fund- 
raising  initiatives  also  contributed  strongly 
to  this  year's  overall  totals.  With  the  Alden 
Trust  grant  (payment  being  spread  over  four 
years),  foundations  provided  about  $1.6  mil- 
lion in  cash.  Once  again,  corporate  giving  set 
an  all-time  record  for  gifts-in-kind  (about 
$3.4  million)  and  contributed  $2.3  million  in 
cash  to  the  bottom  line  (including  the 
matching  gift  dollars  from  the  Alumni  Fund). 
To  calibrate  the  extraordinary  success 
we  realized  in  Fiscal  Year  1993,  note  that  our 


"It  has  been  the 

greatest  privilege  of 

my  life  to  have  served 

my  alma  mater  as  its 

vice  president  for 

university  relations 

during  this  run." 


previous  high-water  mark  for  cash  and  gifts- 
in-kind  was  $12,188,900,  set  in  FY  1991.  The 
total  for  FY  1993  was  $13,691,117.  The  aver- 
age for  the  four  years  of  the  Campaign  for 
Excellence  (November  1986  to  November 
1990)  was  $9.6  million/year.  Our  net  secured 
pledges  (pledges  made  during  FY  1993  net  of 
partial  payments)  totaled  $4,168,681.  Much 
of  this  can  be  credited  to  the  success  of  the 
Alden  Society  launch  and  the  remaining  bal- 
ance on  the  Alden  Trust  grant.  For  FY  1993, 
then,  I  am  especially  pleased  to  report  a 
grand  total  of  activity  of 
$17,859,798— an  all-time 
winning  year! 

These  past  10  years 
have  been  a  great  run 
for  WPI.  Overall,  some 
$111  million  was  gener- 
ated, enabling  the  In- 
stitute, among  many 
thrusts,  to  provide  for 
new  and  improved  phys- 
ical resources,  enhance 
the  growth  of  the  en- 
dowment, and  increase 
financial  aid,  all  of  which  has  helped  us 
serve  as  an  innovative  and  caring  institution 
of  higher  education  in  these  increasingly 
challenging  times. 

It  has  been  the  greatest  privilege  of  my 
life  to  have  served  my  alma  mater  as  its  vice 
president  for  university  relations  during  this 
run.  I  returned  to  WPI  in  September  1983, 
some  30  years— almost  to  the  day— after  my 
parents  brought  me  to  this  campus  as  a 
freshman.  Just  as  was  true  during  my  stu- 
dent days  and  my  career  elsewhere,  a  lot  of 
folks  have  long  had  to  put  up  with  my  inde- 
pendence and  irascibility;  to  all  of  them, 
through  whom  and  with  whom  1  have  been 
able  to  accomplish  so  much,  1  owe  an  endur- 
ing debt  of  thanks. 

When  1  set  out  to  take  WPI  to  a  much 
higher  (and  needed)  level  of  support  and 
recognition,  that  goal  was  initially  greeted 
with  some  skepticism.  But  as  time  passed, 
more  and  more  of  you  believed— as  1  did — 
that  we  were  better  and  that  we  could  do 
better,  and  by  doing  so  make  for  an  even 
finer  institution. 

To  the  investors,  to  the  Board  of  Trus- 
tees, to  the  presidents  I've  served,  Edmund 
T.  Cranch  and  Jon  C.  Strauss,  and  especially 
to  our  staff  in  University  Relations,  my 
thanks  for  your  forbearance  and  support. 
My  successor,  Albert  Doig  Jr.,  merits  your 
talent  and  energy  as  he  takes  the  baton  to 
run  the  next  leg  of  this  enduring  relay.  Give 
him  your  best! 


WPI  Journal 


21 


HONOR  ROLL  OF  DONORS 


Giving  to  WPI:  1992-93 


WPI  gratefully  acknowledges  the  support  of  the  thousands  of  individ- 
uals, foundations  and  corporations  whose  contributions  of 
$13,691,117  in  cash  and  gifts-in-kind  through  the  Alumni  Fund,  the 
Parents  Fund,  minicampaigns  and  general  development  efforts  dur- 
ing the  1992-93  fiscal  year  are  already  at  work  making  WPI  a  stronger  and  more 
outstanding  institution.  Space  does  not  permit  the  listing  of  all  their  names.  An 
additional  $4,168,681  was  pledged  during  the  fiscal  year.  These  commitments 
will  be  listed  in  future  reports  as  they  are  received  as  cash  or  gifts-in-kind. 


$100,000  and 
above 

George  I.  Alden  Trust 
Altera  Corporation 
Commonwealth  of 

Massachusetts 
Davis  Educational 

Foundation 
Digital  Equipment 

Corporation 
Estate  of  Marion  S. 

Fletcher 
George  F.  and  Sybil  H. 

Fuller  Foundation 
General  Electric 

Foundation 
Estate  of  Laura  E.  Hansen 
Howmet  Turbine 

Components 

Corporation 
IBM  Corporation 
Richard  A.  Lufkin  Trust 
Mrs.  Luther  B.  Martin  '25 
Daniel  L.  McQuillan  '49 
Edward  H.  Peterson  '43 
Carl  E.  Rylander  '31 
Kenneth  W.  Shiatte  '53 
Dr.  Stedman  W.  Smith  '36 
Stoddard  Charitable 

Trust 
Estate  of  Dorothea  M. 

Styffe 
Edward  J.  and  Mildred  P. 

Sydor  '50 
United  Technologies 

Corporation 
Viewlogic  Inc. 
Estate  of  Katharine 

Wellington 
Joy  P.  and  Leonard  A. 

Young  '37  Trust 


$25,000  to  $99,999 

AT&T  Corporation 
Philip  G.  Atwood  '37 
Mrs.  David  C.  Bailey  '25 
Eleanor  W.  Bateman 
Robert  H.  Beckett  '57 
Mrs.  Harold  S.  Black  '21 
Cerberus  Ltd. 
Estate  of  Mary  M. 

Clarkson 
Clearpoint  Research 

Corporation 
Raymond  B.  Crawford  '33 
Charles  H.  Decater  '28 
Robert  E.  Duffy  '45 
Exxon  Education 

Foundation 
Ford  Motor  Company 

Fund 
Estate  of  Moxie  F.  Goll 
Winfield  D.  Gove  '24 
GTE  Corporation 
John  P.  Harding  Jr.  '47 
Hewlett  Packard 

Company 
Milton  P.  Higgins 
Hoche-Scofield 

Foundation 
Rolf  Jensen  &  Associates 
Edwin  L.  Johnson  '33 
Kemper  National 

Insurance  Companies 
Estate  of  Mary  C.  Knight 
Liquid  Carbonic  R&D 

Group 
The  Macamor  Foundation 
Herman  Medwin  '41 
S.  Bailey  Norton  Jr.  '43 
Norton  Company 
Francis  J.  Oneglia  '42 
Windle  B.  Priem  '59 


Note:  a  "p "  after  a  name  indicates  parentis)  of 
WPI  students/ 'alumni. 


Procter  &  Gamble 

Company 
William  L.  Raymond  Jr.  '44 
Raytheon  Company 
Mrs.  Franklin  Roberts  '33 
John  T.  Rushton  '39 
Schlumberger-Doll 

Research 
Mrs.  Arthur  E.  Smith  '33 
The  Starr  Foundation 
State  Farm  Company 

Foundation 
WPI  Alumni  Association 
Xerox  Corporation 

$10,000  to  $24,999 

Aetna  Life  and  Casualty 

Company 
American  Nuclear  Insurers 
BASF  Corporation 
Anna  Harrington  Boardman 
John  R.  Brand  '36 
Martin  G.  Bromberg  '51 
Cambridge 

NeuroScience  Inc. 
Brian  D.  Chace  '69 
Carl  C.  Clark  '45 
Richard  A.  Davis  '53 
Dining  and  Kitchen 

Administration  Inc. 
Mrs.  Robert  H.  Field  '38 
Raymond  J.  Forkey  '40 
Milton  W.  Garland  '20 
Alfred  E.  Green  '45 
Steven  C.  Halstedt  '68 
Hartford  Steam  Boiler 

Inspection  and  Insurance 

Company 
Marie  B.  Knowlton  Trust 
Paul  N.  Kokulis  '45 
David  A.  Kuniholm  '40 
M.  Leonard  Kuniholm  '38 
Gordon  B.  Lankton 
Massachusetts  Electric 

Company 
Myles  McDonough 
Mobil  Foundation  Inc. 


Motorola  Inc. 
Douglas  G.  Noiles  '44 
Northeast  Utilities  Service 

Company 
Roger  N.  Perry  Jr.  '45 
Mrs.  George  W.  Petrie 
Clark  L.  Poland  '48 
Albert  W.  Rice  Charitable 

Foundation 
Sean  D.S.  Sebastian  '83 
John  J.  Shields  '69 
Raymond  B.  Shlora  '40 
Robert  C.  Stempel  '55 
William  R.  Steur  '35 
Frans  E.  Strandberg  '39 
Wyman-Gordon  Company 

$5,000  to  $9,999 

James  S.  Adams  '49 
David  E.  Beach  '53 
C.  Edward  Bean  '44 
Richard  A.  Beth  '27 
J.  Richard  Bullock 
Harold  D.  Burt  '33 
CIGNA  Corporation 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Noel  L.  Cohen  p 
Daniel  I.  Coifman  '67 
Herbert  W.  Coulter  III  '70 
Donald  G.  Craig  '57 
Paul  M.  Craig  Jr.  '45 
Michael  A.  DiPierro  '68 
Mrs.  Dwight  Dwineli  '34 
John  E.  Edfors  '55 
Robert  E.  Fay  Jr.  '44 
Kidde-Fenwal  Inc. 
Robert  Fowler  Jr.  '36 
Dale  G.  Freygang  '74 
Francis  J.  Gamari  '54 
Richard  T.  Gates  '52 
A.J.  Gifford 

Charitable  Trust 
Greater  Worcester 

Community  Foundation 
Grinnell  Corporation 
Philip  A.  Henning  '45 
John  E.  Hossack  '46 
Johnson  Controls 
Owen  W.  Kennedy  Jr.  '45 
Richard  B.  Kennedy  '65 
Arthur  R.  Koerber  '40 
Carl  J.  Lindegren  III  '82 
Manostat  Corporation 
Samuel  W.  Mencow  '37 
Mrs.  Joseph  C.  Molder 
Monsanto  Company 
Neles-Jamesbury 

Corporation 
The  Nellie  Mae  Fund 


New  England  Power 

Company 
New  England  Power  Service 

Company 
David  P.  Norton  '62 
OmniGene  Inc. 
Robert  S.  Parks  '93  Trust 
Perkin-Elmer  Corporation 
Polaroid  Corporation 
The  Presmet  Corporation 
Richard  Prouty 
L.  Howard  Reagan  '44 
Estate  of  Louis  Sherman 
Silvaco  International 
J.  Morrison  Smith  '37 
Donald  Taylor  '49 
John  G.  Underhiil  '44 
WPI  Worcester 

County  Club 

$2,500  to  $4,999 

Paul  A.  Allaire  '60 

Allendale  Mutual  Insurance 

Anonymous 

Anonymous 

Kenneth  E.  Baker  Sr.  '52 

Paul  W.  Bayliss  '60 

Craig  Beyler  and  Judy 

Hartman 
Allen  L.  Brownlee  '33 
Arthur  H.  Burr  '29 
James  L.  Carr  Jr.  74 
Class  of  1942 
Charles  H.  Cole  '30 
Data  Translation  Inc. 
Day  Family  Foundation 
Fredrick  DeBoer  '53 
Dow  Chemical  Company 
Dr.  Howard  J. 

Dworkin  '55 
Leland  P.  Ekstrom  '42 
Richard  S.  Fitts  '45 
Neil  A.  Fitzgerald  '38 
John  F.  Gabranski  '75 
Michael  M.  Galbraith  '58 
Herbert  F.  Gale  '34 
Mrs.  Allan  Glazer  '47 
Albert  S.  Goldberg  '48 
Robert  W.  Goodfader  '60 
Bennett  E.  Gordon  Jr.  '65 
W.R.  Grace  &  Co. 
Edward  L.  Griffith  Jr.  '69 
Michael  S.  Gutman  '58 
Raymond  R. 

Hagglund  '56 
Daniel  J. 

Harrington  Jr.  '50 
Robert  W.  Hewey  '40 
Hughes  Aircraft  Company 


22 


Fall  1993 


Industrial  Risk  Insurers 
Ingersoll-Rand  Company 
Rolf  H.  Jensen 
Charles  C.  Johnston  '57 
Franklin  S.  June  '45 
Margaret  N.  Kalenian 
Paul  J.  Keating  II  '64 
John  F.  Kelley  III  '65 
Victor  E.  Kohman  '43 
William  M.  Lester  '28 
Marsh  &  McLennan 

Companies  Inc. 
Frank  D.  Meoli  70 
Alfred  A.  Molinari  Jr.  '63 
Morgan  Construction 

Company 
National  Fire  Protection 

Association 
John  M.  Nelson 
Henry  W.  Nowick  '56 
R.  Craig  Pastore  '69 
Pfizer  Inc. 
Henry  B.  Pratt  '32 
Public  Service  Electric  and 

Gas  Company 
Irving  M.  Roberts  '43 
Kenneth  W.  Roberts  '68 
Mrs.  Franklin 

Robinson  '43 
Rodney  Hunt  Company 
Sara  Lee  Corporation 
Lawrence  F.  Scinto  '51 
The  Stanley  Works 
Stone  &  Webster  Inc. 
Jon  C.  and  Jean  A.  Strauss 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roger  Sullivan  p 
Howard  E.  Swenson  '44 
Texaco  Inc. 
Leonard  H.  White  '41 
Kimball  R.  Woodbury  '44 

$1,500  to  $2,499 

Walter  L.  Abel  '39 
Michael  L.  Abrams  77 
Acton  Research  Corporation 
Robert  H.  Adams  '48 
American  Cyanamid 

Company 
Arnold  J.  Antak  '68 
Arthur  Andersen  &  Company 
Herbert  Asher  '44 
Roy  E.  Baharian  '44 
Bruce  M.  Bailey  '51 
Richard  A.  Barlow  '57 
Lawrence  B.  Barnard  '29 
Jonathan  R.  Barnett  74 
James  L.  Bartlett  Jr.  '39 
Bechtel  Group  Inc. 
Peter  M.  Bell 
L.  Thomas  Benoit  Jr.  '66 
Harvey  A.  Berger  '58 
Donald  F.  Berth  '57 
Paul  R.  Beswick  '57 
Black  &  Decker  Corporation 
Roland  C.  Bouchard  '66 
J.  William  Bowen  '66 
John  Lott  Brown  '46 
Paul  W.  Brown  Jr.  '55 


Daniel  A.  Bundza  '57 

John  K.  Busada  '39 

Wilder  R.  Carson  '39 

Hsien  D.  Chang  70 

Edwin  B.  Coghlin  Jr.  '56 

David  S.  Crimmins  '58 

Gordon  F.  Crowther  '37 

George  H.  Crozier  Jr.  '53 

Henry  S.C. 

Cummings  Jr.  '50 

Earl  M.  Curtis  '36 

Walter  G.  Dahlstrom  '36 

C.  Marshall  Dann  '35 

Mrs.  Phillip  R. 
Delphos  '26 

William  A.  Delphos  74 

Albert  M.  Demont  '31 

William  P.  Densmore  '45 

Robert  L.  Diamond  '56 

Walter  G.  Dick  '49 

Paul  C.  Disario  Jr.  '42 

Cornelius  J. 
Enright  Jr.  '60 

Robert  H.  Farrar  '56 

Robert  L.  Favreau  '52 

Gerald  Finkle  '57 

Patricia  A.  Graham 
Flaherty  75 

The  Foxboro  Company 

Daniel  A.  Funk  77 

Anson  C.  Fyler  '45 

Michael  Gaffin  '55 

MarkS.  Gerber '69 

The  Gillette  Company 

Joseph  Glasser  '35 

Joel  P.  Greene  '69 

Peter  T.  Grosch  '69 
Ralph  P.  Guertin  '62 
David  H.  Hall  '68 
Leslie  B.  Harding '41 
Warren  G.  Harding  '42 
Stephen  J.  Hebert  '66 
Thomas  S.  Heefner  '61 
Jacob  Hiatt 
Jay  P.  Hochstaine  '62 
D.  Brainerd  Holmes 
Peter  H.  Horstmann  '55 
Holbrook  L.  Horton  '29 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Henry 

Hough  p 
L.  Brewster  Howard  '36 
Clayton  E.  Hunt  Jr.  '34 
Larry  Israel '61 
Leonard  Israel  '44 
M  Howard  Jacobson 
Harry  T.  Jensen  '33 
Edwin  S.  Johanson  '45 
Fritz  E.  Johanson  '40 
Chandler  W.  Jones  '26 
Steven  M.  Kay  72 
Averill  S.  Keith  '43 
William  A.  Kerr  '60 
Ajay  Khanna  '92 
Marshall  J.  Kidder  '53 
Douglas  W.  Klauber  '67 
Hans  H.  Koehl  '56 
Wilmer  Kranich 
Ernest  R.  Kretzmer  '45 


Walter  E.  Lankau  Jr.  '64 
Carl  E.  Larson  Jr.  '37 
John  H.  Lauterbach  '66 
John  B.  Lawson  '63 
Eino  O.  Leppanen  '32 
Allen  H.  Levesque  '59 
Frederick  W. 

Lindblad  '42 
Arthur  J.  LoVetere  '60 
Russell  R.  Lussier  '54 
Joseph  J.  Maggi  '67 
F.  William  Marshall  Jr.  p 
Zareh  Martin  '40 
Thomas  G.  McGee  '64 
John  M.  McHugh  '56 
Harry  H.  Merkel  '43 
Behrends  Messer  Jr.  '43 
Bruce  D.  Minsky  77 
MITRE  Corporation 
Peter  B.  Myers  '46 
Donald  F.  Nelson 
New  England  Telephone 
New  Jersey  Bell  Telephone 

Company 
The  New  York  Blower 

Company 
North  American  Philips 

Corporation 
Richard  J.  Norton  '63 
John  F.  O'Brien 
Robert  W.  O'Brien  '38 
Mark  F.  O'Neil  '80 
George  B.  Ordway  '66 
Alex  C.  Papianou  '57 
John  A.  Pelli  70 
Robert  A.  Peura  '64 
Robert  T.  Pleines  '68 
Edward  J.  Power  Jr.  '54 
Olive  Higgins  Prouty 

Foundation  Inc. 
Simon  D.  Ramo 
William  W.  Rawstron  '57 
Raymond  J. 

Remillard  '49 
Joaquim  S.S.  Ribeiro  '58 
Samuel  Ringel  '47 
John  E.  Rogerson  '42 
Donald  E.  Ross  '54 
Milton  E.  Ross  '40 
Carleton  R.  Sanford  '27 
Reynald  J.  Sansoucy  '55 
Gabriel  Schmergel 
Donald  J.  Schulz  '61 
David  M.  Schwaber  '65 
Shearson  Lehman 

Hutton  Inc. 
Allan  P.  Sherman  '61 
Jeremy  W.  Smith  '49 
John  W.  Sutcliffe  '38 
Tektronix  Inc. 
W.  Gordon  Thatcher  '40 
Francis  G.  Toce  '60 
The  Torrington  Company 
John  M.  Tracy  '52 
Irwin  T.  Vanderhoof  '48 
Helen  G.  Vassallo  '82 
Romeo  J.  Ventres  '48 
James  S.  Walsh 


Howard  C.  Warren  '42 
Ross  E.  Weaver  70 
Richard  T. 

Whitcomb  '43 
Philip  A.  Wild  '50 
John  Wiley  &  Sons  Inc. 
Richard  B.  Wilson  '39 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph 

Wojtowicz  p 
Ronald  L.  Zarrella  71 
Donald  N.  Zwiep 

$1,000  to  $1,499 

Donald  H.  Adams  '52 
J.  Carleton  Adams  '23 
Air  Products  & 

Chemicals  Inc. 
Allmerica  Financial 
Erving  Arundale  '37 
James  P.  Atkinson  '69 
Gerald  R.  Backlund  '55 
Edwin  G.  Baldwin  '45 
Robert  E.  Behringer  '53 
Carroll  O.  Bennett  '43 
Gerald  J.  Bibeault  '42 
Henry  S.  Blauvelt  '39 
Nora  A.  Blum '73 
BP  America 
Craig  F.  Bradley  '69 
Harry  W.  Brown  Jr.  '53 
Brown  &  Williamson  Tobacco 
Kevin  J.  Burke  '60 
Richard  S.  Carrara  '63 
Frederick  M.  Chakour  '45 
Steven  S.Chan '71 
Chevron  Corporation 
William  E.  Cobb  '67 
Donald  A.  Colangelo  70 
Deborah  A.  Coleman 
Coopers  &  Lybrand 
Richard  H.  Court  Jr.  '67 
George  A.  Cowan '41 
Custer  Powell  Inc. 
Thomas  R.d'Errico '41 
Irving  James  Donahue  Jr.  '44 
Henry  C.  Durickjr.  '43 
Larry  Dworkin  '58 
John  J.  Dwyer  '33 
David  M.  Elovitz  '53 
Donald  B.  Esson  '69 
Mrs.  Joseph  O.  Faneul  '46 
Mrs.  Francis  P.  Farnsworth  '28 
Frederick  A.  Farrar  '31 
James  C.  Ferguson  '41 
Warren  F.  Follett  '69 
J.  Perry  Fraser  '43 
Howard  G.  Freeman  '40 
FREM  Corp. 
Doug  Geeting  Aviation 

C.  Stewart  Gentsch  '58 
Raymond  K.  Haarstick  '83 
Lee  P.  Hackett'61 
Joseph  M.  Halloran  Jr.  '40 
William  E.  Hanson  '32 
Mrs.  George  W.  Hazzard 
Kent  A.  Healy  '59 

John  T.E.  Hegeman  '45 
Estate  of  Dana  Higgins 
John  E.  Hodgson 
Hyde  Manufacturing  Company 

D.  Alden  Johnson  '54 
David  H.  Johnson  '69 
Timothy  C.Johnson '71 
W. Evans  Johnson '51 
Johnson  &  Higgins 
Atwater  Kent  Foundation 


Friend  H.  Kierstead  Jr.  '43 
Mr.  and  Mrs  John  A.  Kirincich  p 
Jay  B.  Koven  '82 
Donald  T.  Kremer  '70 
Stephanie  L.  Kwolek 
Theresa  B.  Langevin  '79 
Carl  W.  Lewin  '39 
C.  John  Lindegren  Jr.  '39 
Bruce  G.  Lovelace  '68 
Charles  F.  McDonough  '55 
John  T.  McGrath  III  '36 
Mechanics  National  Bank 
Charles  R.  Michel  '37 

Millipore  Corporation 

Minnesota  Mining  and 
Manufacturing  Company 

Paul  E.  Nelson  '32 

Robert  J.  O'Malley  '39 

Robert  A.  Painter  '43 

Ralph  W.  Piper  Jr. '42 

Richard  A.  Prokop  '37 

Scott  W.  Ramsay  '68 

John  B.  Robinson  p 

Rockwell  International 

Stephen  E.  Rubin  74 

Philip  B.  Ryan  '65 

George  E.  Saltus  '53 

Arthur  M.  Shepard  '53 

Philip  E.  Simon  Jr.  '53 

Irving  Skeist  '35 

Eric  W.  Soderberg  '35 

Spag's  Supply  Inc. 

Harvey  W.  Spence  p 

Raymond  F.  Starrett  '35 

Sidney  Stayman  '44 

Frank  J.  Stefanov  '45 

Frederic  A.  Stevens  '61 

Lawrence  R.  Sullivan  '40 

JohnW.SztukaJr.'70 

Donald  A.  Taft  '72 

Tambrands  Inc. 

The  Textron 

Charitable  Trust 

Samuel  W.  Thompson  Jr.  p 

Robert  F.  Turek  '52 

Steven  A.  Udell  70 

United  Telephone-Eastern  Inc. 

William  Van  Herwarde  '75 

James  L.  Viele  '67 

William  B.  Wadsworth  '39 

William  A.  Webb 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warren  L.  Wellman 

Westinghouse 

Education  Fund 
Estate  of  Hester  D.  Wetherell 
David  A.  Zlotek  '69 

$250  to  $999 

ABB  Combustion  Engineering 
Crosby  L.  Adams  '57 
Joseph  D.  Adams  Jr.  '76 
Aerospace  Corporation 
Arthur  M.  Aframe  '69 
Robert  E.  Akie  '73 
Paul  R.  Alasso  '54 
James  A.  Alfieri  '59 
Patricia  A.  Ailard  '83 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gilbert  Allen  p 
Robert  A.  Allen '59 
Allied-Signal  Inc. 
Jonathan  B.  Allured  '42 
Aluminum  Company  of  America 
Raymond  L.  Alvey  Jr.  '50 
Everett  J.  Ambrose  Jr.  '43 
Richard  E.  Amidon  '50 
Analog  Devices  Inc. 
Arthur  W.  Anderson  '57 


WPI  Journal 


23 


Car]  P.  Anderson  '88 

Robert  Bumstead  '31 

Scot  P.  Deal  '89 

Raymond  G.  Giguere  '53 

George  L.  Hogeman 

G.  Albert  Anderson  '51 

Richard  F.  Burke  Jr.  '38 

Debra  R.  Weinstein  Dean  '83 

Frederick  C.Gilbert '48 

Franklin  K.  Holbrook  '43 

Gordon  C.  Anderson  '44 

Donald  M.  Burness  '39 

Phillip  S.  Dean  '35 

Jeremy  H.  Gilbert  '89 

William  D.  Holcomb  '38 

George  C.  Andreopoulos  '42 

Thomas  I.  Burns  74 

Thomas  E.  DeBellis  '80 

Ralph  H.  Gilbert  '30 

Calvin  B.  Holden  '43 

Michael  C.  Annon  '68 

Carrol  E.  Burtner  '47 

Richard  J.  De  Chard  '56 

Joseph  B.  Gill  '58 

Hollingsworth  &  Vose  Company 

Robert  C.  Appenzeller  '46 

Robert  H.  Cahill  '65 

Robert  H.  DeFlesco  Jr.  '68 

William  H.  Gill  Jr.  '61 

Honeywell  Inc. 

Merico  E.  Argentati  70 

Henry  J.  Camosse  '53 

John  L.  Dehnert  '59 

Andrew  J.  Giokas  70 

Keith  E.  Hongisto  71 

Ashland  Oil  Inc. 

Bernard  M.  Campbell  Jr.  '58 

Richard  W.  DeLand  '69 

Robert  W.  Glamuzina  '68 

Lawrence  B.  Horrigan  Jr.  '56 

Frank  Aspin  '42 

Campbell  Soup  Company 

Howard  J.  Dember  '48 

Rose  R.  Glazer 

Malcolm  D.  Horton  '50 

ATOCHEM  Inc. 

Dana  B.  Carleton  '32 

David  P.  Demers  74 

Paul  R.  Glazier  '37 

David  W.  Hoskinson  '57 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  J.  Auger  p 

Carl  H.  Carlson  '29 

David  B.  Denniston  '58 

Gerald  H.  Gleason  '49 

Richard  B.  Hosmer  '61 

Avon  Products  Inc. 

Allen  S.  Carnicke  75 

Allen  R.  Deschere  '38 

Kenneth  E.  Gleason  Sr.  '33 

Houghton  Mifflin  Company 

Gerald  S.  Axelrod  '69 

William  P.  Casey  Jr.  76 

Richard  J.  DiBuono  '62 

Arthur  E.  Goddard  11  '63 

Household  International  Inc. 

John  A.  Backes  '39 

Donald  E.  Casperson  '69 

Arthur  M.  Dickey  '65 

Charles  N.  Goddard  '63 

Raymond  K.  Houston  '38 

Carl  W.  Backstrom  '30 

Caroline  A.  Cassidy  '85 

Monroe  M.  Dickinson  Jr.  '52 

Loretta  M.  Goeller  76 

Dr.  David  B.  Hubbell  73 

Everett  E.  Bagley  '52 

Paul  M.  Castle  '66 

Gregory  S.  Dickson  71 

Cobb  S.  Goff  '68 

Harold  W.Humphrey  Jr. '39 

Walter  J.  Bank '46 

Donald  A.  Cauley  77 

Thomas  M.  Di  Francesco  73 

George  W.Golding  Jr. '43 

Leonard  G.  Humphrey  Jr.  '35 

George  M.  Banks '69 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilfred  Ceppetelli  p 

Mario  P.  DiGiovanni  75 

Edward  M.  Gonsalves  '81 

Charles  F.  Hunnicutt  '65 

Banta  Corporation 

Benjamin  R.  Chadwick  '31 

Ralph  J.  DiGiovanni  '53 

David  L.  Goodman  '62 

Lewis  W.  Huntoon  '62 

C.R.  Bard  Inc. 

Gordon  J.  Chaffee  '42 

Stephen  P.  Diguette  72 

Goodyear  Tire  &  Rubber 

Daniel  Hurley  '80 

Carl  P.  Baron  77 

Robert  L.  Chang  '55 

Anne  M.  McPartland 

Company 

Frederick  E.  Hyatt  Jr.  '36 

Francis  L.  Barry  '44 

Richard  M.  Chapman  '58 

Dodd  75 

Alexander  L.  Gordon  '36 

Alfred  E.  Irelan  '61 

Harry  S.  Barton  Jr.  '55 

WalterJ.Charow'49 

Philip  J.  Domenico  '86 

Michael  G.  Gordon  '56 

John  P.  Jacobson  '65 

Robert  W.  Batchelder  '49 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Salvatore 

Michael  W.  Donahue  '90 

Saul  Gordon  '50 

Robert  S.  Jacobson  '46 

Baxter  International  Inc. 

Cherenziap 

Robert  W.  Dreyfoos  '80 

Denise  C.  Gorski  75 

James  River  Corporation 

Edward  J.  Bayon  '31 

Chesapeake  &  Potomac 

John  E.  Driscoll  '28 

Stephen  P.  Goudreau  '90 

Robert  S.  Jenkins  '58 

Robert  C.  Bearse  '60 

Telephone  Company 

Jackson  L.  Durkee  '43 

Willard  T.  Gove  '40 

Joseph  H.  Johnson  Jr.  '46 

Arthur  F.  Beaubien  '81 

Chesebrough-Ponds  Inc. 

Neil  W.  Durkee  '68 

Philip  J.  Gow '43 

Richard  P.  Johnson  '57 

Paul  G.  Beaudet  '68 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peter  T.  Chingp 

Joseph  B.  Dzialo  76 

Robert  N.  Gowing  '49 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Johnson  p 

Paul  H.  Beaudry  '49 

Alexander  S. 

Eastern  Enterprises 

Darius  A.  Grala  '86 

Johnson  &  Johnson 

Elaine  W.  Becker 

Chodakowski  '41 

Wayne  E.  Eastman  70 

Walter  J.  Grandfield  Jr.  76 

Arthur  W.  Joyce  Jr.  '50 

G.  Standish  Beebe  '34 

Paul  A.  Christian  73 

Harvey  W.  Eddy  '41 

Thomas  B.  Graves  76 

Charles  A.  Kalauskas  '69 

Hugh  C.  Bell  '55 

Chrysler  Corporation 

Charles  J.  Egan  '34 

Michael  C.  Greenbaum  73 

Peter  Kalil  '49 

Salvatore  J.  Bellassai  '42 

Church  &  Dwight 

Edward  W.  Eidt  Jr.  '57 

John  B.  Greenstreet  75 

George  Kalista  '34 

Bellcore 

Company  Inc. 

Richard  M.  Elliott  '38 

George  D.  Greenwood  '34 

Frank  A.  Kania  73 

BellSouth  Services  Inc. 

George  A.  Clark  74 

John  W.  Elphinstone  '68 

William  E.  Griffiths  Jr.  '58 

Samuel  B.  Kaplan  '39 

Bemis  Company  Inc. 

David  S.  Clayton  '65 

Richard  E.  Epstein  '63 

Walter  J.  Grimala'46 

Carl  H.  Karlsson  '60 

Carl  F.  Benson  '36 

J.  David  Clayton  '44 

Paul  E.  Evans  '48 

Joseph  R.  Grimes  Jr.  '82 

Daniel  B.  Katz  '45 

Kenneth  C.  Benton  '63 

Clorox  Company  Foundation 

Henry  J.  Ezen  '49 

R.  Reed  Grimwade  '50 

Frank  H.  Kean  Jr.  '33 

Norman  A.  Bergstrom  Jr.  '68 

Richard  W.  Cloues  Sr.  '38 

Wayne  N.  Fabricius  '68 

Campbell  C.  Groel  Jr. 

Richard  C.  Kee  '55 

Paul  H.  Bergstrom  '38 

William  S.  Coblenz  70 

Factory  Mutual  System 

William  R.  Grogan  '46 

John  H.  Keenan '34 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  E. 

Edward  H.  Coburn  Jr.  '48 

David  R.  Fairbanks  '52 

Frank  A.  Gross  Jr.  '46 

Robert  C.  Keenan  70 

Bergstrom  p 

Richard  A.  Coffey  Jr.  '51 

WalterJ.FarrellJr. '43 

Grumman  Corporation 

Jean  Keller  p 

April  L.  Hammond  Berkol  '85 

Morrel  H.  Cohen  '47 

Charles  J.  Feeney  Jr.  '46 

David  J.  Gumbley  '68 

Eleanor  M.  Cromwick 

Stephen  E.  Bernacki  70 

Raymond  W.  Coleman  72 

Richard  J.  Ferguson  '57 

Berton  H.  Gunter  '68 

Kelly  '81 

Eugene  R.  Bertozzi  Jr.  '38 

Christopher  R.  Collins  '56 

OscarA.FickJr. '38 

Burritt  Haag 

Jean  L.  Kelly  '85 

Fred  Besselievre  '49 

Commonwealth  Electric 

Morton  S.  Fine  '37 

James  G.  Hackendorf  '60 

Jeffrey  T.Kelly '86 

Fermo  A.  Bianchi  Jr.  73 

Company 
George  E.  Comstock  '46 
Nancy  Conley  p 

Norman  Fineberg  '63 

Joseph  Haddad  '34 

John  F.  Kelly  '82 

J.  Alfred  Bicknell  '33 

Niel  1.  Fishman  '48 

Alan  R.  Hahnel  74 

Kevin  J.  Kelly  75 

Robert  A.  Bierweiler  '43 

Robert  W.  Fitzgerald  '53 

Allan  L.  Hall  '30 

Thomas  R.  Kelly  '86 

John  R.  Black  '53 

John  F.  Conlon  Jr.  '55 
Connecticut  Light  &  Power 

Company 
Connecticut  Mutual  Life 

Insurance  Company 
Consolidated  Edison  of 

John  J.  Fitzgibbons  Jr.  75 

Raymond  E.  Hall  '31 

Michael  S.  Kenniston  78 

Charles  L.  Blake  '67 

Stephen  L.  Fitzhugh  75 

Allan  C.  Hamilton  Jr.  '56 

Carl  A.  Keyser'39 

Louis  A.  Blanchard  '57 

Robert  W.  Flanagan  Jr.  74 

Janet  L.  Hammarstrom  '80 

Thaddeus  J.  Kielar  '80 

Henry  R.  Block  70 

Estate  of  Paris  Fletcher 

Timothy  B.  Hardy  '85 

Dr.  Francis  J.  Kiernan  75 

Earl  M.  Bloom  Jr.  '55 

Florida  Power  &  Light  Company 

Bradford  J.  Harper  '59 

Carleton  F.  Kilmer  Jr.  '64 

The  Boeing  Co. 

New  York 

Fluor  Corporation 

Francis  S.  Harvey  '37 

Osmond  L.  Kinney  '35 

Joseph  E.  Boggio  '58 

Cooper  Industries  Inc. 

FMC  Corporation 

Alan  F.  Hassett  70 

George  W.  Knauff  '41 

John  T.  Bok  70 

Paul  A.  Covec  '64 

Domenic  J.  Forcella  Jr.  70 

Philip  J.  Hastings  '42 

William  L.  Knoblock  '56 

Richard  W.  Bonnet  '43 

Walter  E.  Crandall  '40 

Alan  S.  Foss  '52 

David  B.  Hathaway  '53 

Michael  J.  Knoras  '88 

Paula  Mesite  Bordogna  '80 

Kenneth  A.  Crawford  '68 

Thomas  R.  Fournier  '69 

Philip  K.  Hathaway  '38 

Steven  Kochman  '83 

Richard  J.  Bors  73 

Bruce  T.  Croft  75 

Gerda  Frank 

Richard  E.  Hathaway  '50 

Stephen  R.  Kolek  77 

Boston  Edison  Company 

Roger  M.  Cromack  '48 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  Frank  p 

Kenneth  M.  Healy  '53 

Victor  A.  Kolesh  '41 

August  M.  Boucher  73 

Cummins  Engine  Company 

Charles  S.  Frary  Jr.  '34 

Herbert  S.  Hebel  '59 

Peter  P.  Koliss  '38 

Henry  J.  Bove  '47 

William  D.  Cunningham  77 

Timothy  A.  French  73 

Fred  H.  Hedin  '26 

Mark  A.  Koretz  71 

Bowditch  &  Dewey 

William  E.  Currie  '43 

Richard  W.  Frost  '62 

William  C.  Hees  '59 

Eugene  V.  Kosso  '46 

John  R.  Boyd  '69 

Merritt  E.  Cutting  '34 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jerry  J.  Czarnecki  p 

Richard  C.  Furman  '69 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  James 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leonard  J.  Kostekp 

Russell  P.  Bradlaw  '49 

John  J.  Gabarro  '61 

Heidebrecht  p 

Robert  J.  Kowal  73 

Antonia  Carlos  Braga  '89 

Chester  G.  Dahlstrom  '34 

Andre  F.  Gagnon  '80 

Mark  F.  Heinlein  '81 

Harold  A.  Krieger  '44 

Ronald  S.  Brand  '40 

Peter  J.  Dalton  '49 

Cynthia  L.  Gagnon  '82 

Robert  W.  Henderson  '48 

James  A.  Kudzal  74 

Hugh  M.  Brautigam  '43 

Bernard  R.  Danti  '56 

Donald  C.  Gale  Jr.  '89 

Harold  F.  Henrickson  '36 

David  A.  Kujala  '52 

Fred  T.  Brierly  Jr.  '42 

C.  Lynne  D'Autrechy  '82 

George  F.  Gamache  '68 

John  F.  Henrickson  '65 

Albert  J.  Kullas  '38 

Alan  K.  Briggs  76 

George  G.  Davenport  III  '69 

John  H.  Gearin  '53 

Sumner  W.  Herman  '50 

Kenneth  N.  Kummins  78 

Bristol-Myers  Squibb  Company 

Warren  H.  Davenport  '34 

GEC  Marconi  Company 

Peter  M.  Herron  '67 

Robert  C.  Labonte  '54 

Walter  J.  Brosnan  '32 

Daniel  L.  David  72 

John  H.  Geffken  '63 

Joachim  Herz  '54 

William  J.  La  Barge  '88 

John  J.  Brosnihan  '67 

Harold  C.  Davis  Jr.  '44 

General  Dynamics  Corporation 

Leigh  H.  Hickcox  '54 

Patrick  F.  Lafayette  72 

Harrison  K.  Brown  '39 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  John  Davis  p 

General  Motors  Corporation 

Merrill  W.  Higgins  '42 

Richard  W.F.  Lai  '90 

Philip  G.  Buffinton  '49 

Davis  Corporation  ol  Worcester 

William  F.  Gess  Jr.  '58 

Joseph  F.  Hilyard  '68 

M.  Stephen  Lajoie  '64 

Gary  S.  Bujaucius  77 

F.  Clark  Gesswein  '64 

Hoechst  Celanese 

Peter  A.  Lajoie  '60 

24 


Fall  1993 


Albert  J.  Laliberte  '33 
Leonard  B.  Landall  '39 
Theresa  A.  Murphy 

Landers  '78 
David  G.  Lapre  74 
Joseph  E.  Laptewicz  Jr.  71 
Elizabeth  Papandrea 

Lariviere  76 
Alfred  F.Larkin  Jr. '44 
Alan  G.  Larsson  '56 
Craig  B.  Laub  77 
Stephen  R.  Lawry  '80 
Luther  C.  Leavitt  '34 
John  W.  Lebourveau  '44 
Edward  J.  Ledden  74 
Richard  G.  Ledoux  '61 
Sang  Ki  Lee  '60 
Henry  E.  Leikkanen  '55 
ThaddeusJ.Lelek'70 
David  R.  Levasseur  '85 
Gary  L.  Leventhal  '69 
Marshall  S.  Levine  '55 
Peter  H.  Levine 
Robert  S.  Levine  '66 
Daniel  G.  Lewis  Jr.  '47 
John  A.  Lewis  '44 
Ching-Wen  Lin  '80 
Edward  E.  Lindberg  '60 
Arthur  E.  Lindroos  '43 
Richard  C.  Lindstrom  '55 
Lester  N.  Lintner  '32 
Charles  Lipson  '60 

Michael  A.  Littizzio  '63 
James  M.  Lockwood  70 

Loctite  Corporation 

Eugene  C.  Logan '45 

Joseph  D.  Lojewski  '52 

Lotus  Development  Corporation 

Robert  W.  Lotz  '45 

Edward  C.  Lowe  III  71 

Francis  C.  Lutz 

Leo  O.  Lutz  '52 

Richard  J.  Lyman  '37 

Israel  Mac  '68 

John  Machonis  Jr.  '63 

Homer  E.  MacNutt  Jr.  '49 

Frank  A.  MacPherson  '51 

Ellen  E.  Madigan  '92 

Francis  W.  Madigan  Jr.  '53 

George  A.  Makela  '35 

Kenneth  M.  Makowski  73 

Robert  M.  Malbon  '63 

Arthur  H.  Mallon  '39 

JohnF.MalloyJr.'54 

Paul  R.  Malnati  '66 

Paul  A.  L.  Mannheim  '61 

John  F.  Manning  Jr.  '80 

William  E.  Mansfield  '51 

Suzanne  J.  Call  Margerum  '81 

Jordan  Markson 

Louis  J.  Marsella  '56 

Herbert  W.  Marsh  '43 

George  A.  Marston  '30 

Christopher  F.  Martin  '53 

Estate  of  Douglas  B. 
Martin  '24 

Robert  R.  Martin  75 
Lawrence  J.  Martiniano  74 
Massachusetts  Mutual  Life 

Insurance  Company 
Robert  R.  Mattson  70 
Richard  G.  Mayer  '40 
Thomas  M.  McCaw  '46 
Richard  H.  McCue  Jr.  '69 
Michael  S.  McDonald  79 
McDonnell  Douglas  Foundation 
Charles  W.  McElroy  '34 
'    Donald  J.  McGee '32 


James  E.  McGinnis  '41 
McGraw-Hill  Inc. 
Robert  E.  Mcintosh  Jr.  '62 
James  G.  McKernan  '48 
Donald  M.  McNamara  '55 
Harold  A.  Melden  Jr.  '49 
Brian  C.  Mellea  76 
Andrew  M.  Melnyk  '85 
Orlando  R.  Mendez  '66 
Merck  &  Company  Inc. 
Michael  E.  Merkle  73 
Richard  T.  Merrell  '33 
John  E.  Merritt  '68 
Ward  D.  Messimer  '39 
Thomas  W.  Meury  '89 
Theodore  H.  Meyer  '43 
William  B.  Miller 
John  D.  Minott  '57 
Robert  F.  Mizula  '80 
Thomas  G.  Moog  '87 
Robert  A.  Moore  '58 
Benjamin  B.  Morgan  '60 
Leon  A.  Morgan  '57 
David  M.  Morley  '36 
John  P.  Morrill  '53 
Gerald  F.  Morris  '65 
Morton  International 
Dennis  M.  Moulton  '81 
Charles  F.  Mulrenan  '51 
Duncan  W.  Munro  '51 
David  P.  Murphy  71 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eugene  Murphy  p 
William  H.  Nagel  '53 
Narragansett  Electric  Company 
National  Starch  and  Chemical 

Company 
Stanley  P.  Negus  Jr.  '54 
Edwin  F.  Nesman  '55 
Robert  M.  Neumeister  '45 
Robert  K.  Neunherz  '55 
Rowland  M.  Newcomb  '46 
New  England  Business 

Service  Inc. 
Thomas  B.  Newman  Jr.  '64 
Donald  L.  Nichols  '46 
Charles  R.  Nickerson  74 
William  R  Nims  '66 
Northern  Telecom  Inc. 
Floyd  C.  Norton  '52 
William  J.  Norwood  111  '81 
Allison  J.  Huse  Nunn  73 
Bruce  E.  Nunn  73 
NUS  Corporation 
William  T.  Nutter  73 
Walter  O.Nygaard '38 
Kenneth  W.  Oberg  70 
Terence  P.  O'Coin  '83 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Francis  E. 

O'Connellp 
Kevin  W.  0'Connell71 
Manus  H.  O'Donnell  '83 
John  F.  Ogorzalek  Esq.  '61 
Michael  A.  O'Hara  78 
Joseph  R.  Oliveri  '88 
Bruce  A.  Olsen  78 
Richard  C.  Olson  '50 
Richard  S.  Olson  '65 
Verner  R.  Olson  '35 
William  J.  O'Neil'58 
James  F.  O'Regan  '49 
John  G.  O'Reilly  75 
Irving  F.  Orrell  Jr.  '51 
Edmund  S.  Oshetsky  '46 
Joseph  J.  Osvald  '65 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jose  Pacheco  p 
Earl  G.  Page  Jr.  '43 
Howard  0.  Painter  Jr.  '58 
John  R.  Palitsch  74 


CaryA.Palulis'68 
Anan  Panananda  '60 
William  D.  Parent  70 
Robert  E.  Parker  '38 
Parker  Hannifin  Corporation 
John  D.  Payne  '81 
James  Z.  Peepas  '49 
Alton  L.  Penniman  '51 
PepsiCo  Inc. 
Edward  G.  Perkins  72 
John  J.  Perrone  '67 
John  H.  Peters  III  '40 
Donald  W.  Petersen  Jr.  '66 
C.  Raymond  Peterson  '44 
Donald  K.  Peterson  71 
Jeffrey  L.  Peterson  77 
Donald  F.  Pethybridge  '38 
Philip  Morris  Inc. 
Photo  Electronics  Corporation 
Peter  R.  Picard  '67 
Gerald  E.  Piepiora  70 
HalbertE.  Pierce  Jr.  '29 
Edward  F.  Pietraszkiewicz  75 
Lawrence  E.  Pihl  '66 

Eric  O.  Pisila  '67 

Leonard  Polizzotto  70 

Gary  G.  Pontbriand  74 

Richard  R.  Poole  78 

Richard  D.  Popp  '54 

Frederick  M.  Potter  '33 

Foster  C.  Powers  '37 

James  J.  Powers  '68 

John  W.  Powers  '61 

Robert  E.  Powers  '45 

David  A.  Pratt  '56 

T.  Richard  Price  72 

William  Price  '37 

William  S.  Proctor  '38 

The  Prudential  Insurance 
Company 

Roger  W.  Pryor  '68 

Robert  E.  Purpura  '60 

Stephen  M.  Pytka  '68 

Quabaug  Rubber  Company 

Manuel  J.  Queijo  '44 

Raymond  J.  Quenneville  '35 

Richard  P.  Quintin  '55 

Martin  A.  Rafferty  '55 

Donald  P.  Reed  '28 

Barbara  A.  Reincke  p 

Reliance  Electric  Company 

Lynwood  C.  Rice  '68 

Douglas  A.  Riley  '68 

Riley  Stoker  Corporation 

Donald  B.  Rising  '57 

Harvey  G.  Roberts  '58 

Nancy  L.  Roberts  77 

Thomas  D.  Rockwood  79 

Richard  L.  Rodier  '46 

John  H.  Rogers  Jr.  '56 

William  C.  Rogler  Jr.  '57 

Rohm  and  Haas  Company 

Ralph  W.  Rollo  '69 

Elijah  B.  Romanoff  '34 

Robert  J.  Rose  '69 

Morton  J.  Rosenberg  p 

Louis  J.  Rossi  '61 

Edward  J.  Roszko  '39 

Thomas  H.  Rothwell  '53 
Paul  A.  Rougeau  '63 
Eugene  L.  Rubin  '53 
Frederick  D.  Rucker  '81 
Walter  J.  Ruthenburg  III  '65 
Edwin  M.  Ryan  '41 
Ryder  System  Inc. 
Elmer  S.  Sachse  '46 
Scott  L.  Saftler  77 
Donald  R.  Sanders  '49 


Donald  F.  Sanger  '62 
Edward  A.  Saulnier  '59 
Lawrence  A.  Savage  '81 
Alice  A.  Sayler  74 
Walter  C.  Scanlon  '50 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richard  T. 

Schachner  p 
Warren  H.  Schafer  '38 
Schering-Plough  Corporation 
Ralph  P.  Schlenker  '57 
John  H.  Schmidt  '64 
Steven  H.  Schoen  76 
Bruce  E.  Schoppe  '60 
Robert  J.  Schultz  '55 
Arthur  J.  Schumer  '37 
David  L.  Schwartz  75 
Richard  J.  Schwartz  70 
Wayne  E.  Schweidenback  73 
Frederic  C.  Scofield  HI  '64 
Robert  E.  Scott  '45 
Robert  J.  Scott '69 
Francis  M.  Scricco  71 
Richard  A.  Seagrave  '48 
Paul  S.  Sessions  '21 
William  A.  Seubert  '54 
Michael  D.  Shapiro  '65 
Robert  V.  Sharkey  '59 
Jeffrey  E.  Shaw  '68 
Shawmut  National  Corporation 
Shell  Companies  Foundation 
Philip  C.  Sherburne  '34 
Philip  R.  Sherman  '88 
Michael  J.  Shorr  '92 
Ojars  M.  Silarais  '65 
Steven  J.  Silva  76 
Robert  F.H.  Sisson  '81 
George  R.  Skoglund  '68 

Richard  G.  Skoglund  '65 

Charles  S.  Smith  '35 

Donald  E.  Smith  '41 

Edward  H.  Smith  '46 

Everett  P.  Smith  '40 

Ralph  L.  Smith  Jr.  '43 

Robert  W.  Smith  '69 

Dennis  E,  Snay  '63 

Richard  D.  Souren  '61 

Southern  New  England 
Telephone  Company 

Stephen  W.  Spakowsky  '69 

Earl  C.  Sparks  III  '66 

Warren  A.  Spence  74 

George  V.  Spires  III '64 

Prasarn  Srisuppachaiya  '85 

Warren  R.  Standley  '63 

John  E.  Stauffer  '60 

Michael  J.  Stephens  '57 

Francis  E.  Stone  '40 

Penny  J.  Bergmann  Story  76 

George  P.  Strom  '56 

Lance  G.  Sunderlin  76 

Sun  Life  of  Canada 

Roger  W.  Swanson  '51 

John  H.  Sylvester  '30 

David  E.  Szkutak  79 

Joan  M.  Bolduc  Szkutak  79 

Robert  M.  Taft  '38 

Alvin  E.  Tanner  '57 

Norman  J.  Taupeka  '58 

Marshall  B.  Taylor  '68 

William  R.  Taylor  '55 

Tech  Old  Timers 

Teledyne  Charitable  Trust 
Foundation 

Tenneco  Inc. 

Edwin  D.  Tenney  '59 

Harry  W.  Tenney  Jr.  '56 

Nishan  Teshoian  '63 

Texas  Instruments  Foundation 


Peter  A.  Thacher  74 
Thiokol  Corporation 
Leo  J.  Thomas 
J.  Headen  Thompson  '36 
John  S.  Thompson  Jr.  '69 
Norman  J.A.  Thompson 
Ronald  E.  Thompson  Jr.  '82 
Emery  F.  Thoren  Jr.  71 
George  T.  Thrasher  '67 
James  M.  Tolos  '61 
David  A.  Tone  '63 
Paul  G.  Trudel  '67 
Alden  F.  Tucker  '52 
Robert  M.  Tucker  '28 
Stephen  J.  Turek  Jr.  '44 
Turner  Corporation 
Paul  W.  Ulcickas  '63 
Oliver  R.Underhill  Jr. '31 
Mrs.  L,  Ivan  Underwood  '25 
United  Engineers  &  Construc- 
tors International  Inc. 
The  United  Illuminating 

Company 
U  S  West  Foundation 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lloyd  S.  Van  Ess  p 
Milford  R.  VanDusen  '47 
Shirley  Hossack  Van  Winkle 
Henry  A.  Vasil  '53 
Spiro  L.  Vrusho  '57 
Kenneth  R.  Wad  land  72 
William  M.  Walker  '43 
Richard  W.  Wallahora  '68 
William  M.  Walsh  '53 
Warner-Lambert  Company 
Burl  S.  Watson  Jr.  '49 
Steven  C.  Watson  71 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  P.  Wattu  p 
John  B.  Weigele  73 
Clifford  M.  Weiner  '81 
J.  Richard  Weiss  Jr.  '42 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  E.  Wellman 
Axel  H.  Wendin  '26 
John  J.  West  Jr.  '88 
Westinghouse  Electric  Company 
Westvaco  Corporation 
Edward  C.  Wheaton 
Robert  J.  Whipple 
Whirlpool  Corporation 
Harold  E.  White  '39 
Jeffrey  D.  White  '84 
Mark  D.  Whitley  73 
George  E.  Whitwell  77 
Plummer  Wiley  '35 
George  D.  Williams  '44 
John  H.  Williams  Jr.  '47 
Roberts.  Williamson '31 
GaryE.Wnek'77 
Bruce  W.  Woodford  '61 
Charles  E.  Woodward  '31 
Robert  D.  Woog  '68 
John  D.  Writer  '51 
Yang  Xu '91 
Anthony  J.  Yakutis  '43 
Joseph  A.  Yanikoski  '87 
Anthony  E.  Yankauskas  71 
Yankee  Atomic  Electric 

Company 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alan  F.  Yates 
Robert  A.  Yates  '57 
Thomas  P.  Zarrilli  76 
William  E.  Zetterlund  '65 
Mary  M.  Zoeller  73