CONTENTS
\
INVITED REVIEW
EHINGER, BERNDT E. J.
Retinal circuitry and clinical ophthalmology 333
BEHAVIOR
HlDAKA, MlCHIO
Nematocyst discharge, histoincompatibility, and the formation of swee-
per tentacles in the coral Galaxea fascicularis 350
STEELE, CRAIG W.
Non-random, seasonal oscillations in the orientation and locomotor
activity of sea catfish (Arius felis) in a multiple-choice situation .... 359
DEVELOPMENT AND REPRODUCTION
ANDERSON, SUSAN L., WALLIS H. CLARK, JR.^ AND ERNEST S. CHANG
Multiple spawning and molt synchrony in a free spawning shrimp (57-
cyonia ingentis: Penaeoidea) 377
PETRAITIS, PETER S.
Females inhibit males' propensity to develop into simultaneous her-
maphrodites in Capitella species I (Polychaeta) 395
WEIS, VIRGINIA M., DOUGLAS R. KEENE, AND LEO W. Buss
Biology of hydractiniid hydroids. 4. Ultrastructure of the planula of
Hydractinia echinata 403
ECOLOGY AND EVOLUTION
LONSDALE, DARCY J., AND JEFFREY S. LEVINTON
Latitudinal differentiation in embryonic duration, egg size, and newborn
survival in a harpacticoid copepod : 419
.
PHYSIOLOGY
COBB, JAMES L. S.
The neurobiology of the ectoneural/hyponeural synaptic connection in
an echinoderm 432
SANGER, JOSEPH W., AND JEAN M. SANGER
Sarcoplasmic reticulum in the adductor muscles of a Bermuda scallop:
comparison of smooth versus cross-striated portions 447
SILVERMAN, BARRY A., RONALD W. BERNINGER, RICHARD C. TALAMO, AND
FREDERICK B. BANG
The use of the urn cell complexes of Sipunculus nudus for the detection
of the presence of mucus stimulating substances in the serum of rabbits
with mucoid enteritis
461
SHORT REPORTS
CHOW, SEINEN, YASUHIKO TAKI, AND YOSHIMITSU OGASAWARA
Cryopreservation of spermatophore of the fresh water shrimp, Macro-
brachium rosenbergii 471
JAFFE, LIONEL F., AND ANTHONY E. WALSBY
An investigation of extracellular electrical currents around cyanobacterial
filaments 476
ROBINSON, B. W., AND R. W. DOYLE
Trade-off between male reproduction (amplexus) and growth in the
amphipod Gammarus lawrencianus • 482
Index to Volume 168 489
Volume 168 Number 3
SYMPOSIUM SUPPLEMENT TO THE
BIOLOGICAL BULLETIN
PUBLISHED BY
THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
C. B. Metz, Editor; P. L. Clapp, Assistant Editor
THE NAPLES ZOOLOGICAL STATION AND
THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY:
ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF BIOLOGY
CONTENTS
GROSS, PAUL R.
Preface 1
NINETEENTH-CENTURY BACKGROUND, AND PERSONALITIES
GROEBEN, CHRISTIANE
Anton Dohrn — the statesman of Darwinism 4
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE
Agassiz, Hyatt, Whitman, and the birth of the Marine Biological Lab-
oratory 26
MONROY, ALBERTO, AND CHRISTIANE GROEBEN
The "new" embryology at the Zoological Station and at the Marine
Biological Laboratory 35
REINGOLD, NATHAN, AND JOEL N. BODANSKY
The sciences, 1850-1900, a North Atlantic perspective . 44
THE EVOLUTION OF DISCIPLINES
GROSS, PAUL R.
Laying the ghost: embryonic development, in plain words 62
EBERT, JAMES D.
Cell interactions: the roots of a century of research 80
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D.
An evolutionary century at Woods Hole: instruction in invertebrate
zoology 88
FANTINI, BERNARDINO
The sea urchin and the fruit fly: cell biology and heredity, 1900-1910 99
ALLEN, GARLAND E.
Heredity under an embryological paradigm: the case of genetics and
embryology , 107
Continued on Cover Two
GHIRETTI, FRANCESCO
Comparative physiology and biochemistry at the Zoological Station of
Naples 122
COHEN, SEYMOUR S.
Some struggles of Jacques Loeb, Albert Mathews, and Ernest Just at
the Marine Biological Laboratory 127
FLOREY, ERNST
The Zoological Station at Naples and the neuron: personalities and
encounters in a unique institution . . 137
YOUNG, J. Z.
Cephalopods and neuroscience 153
BENNETT, M. V. L.
Nicked by Occam's razor: unitarianism in the investigation of synaptic
transmission . 159
TOMAS, CARMELO R.
Marine botany and ecology at Stazione Zoologica 168
PAST AND FUTURE: SHORTER COMMUNICATIONS ON POLICY
AND POLITICS
EBERT, JAMES D.
Carnegie Institution of Washington and marine biology: Naples, Woods
Hole, and Tortugas 172
EBERT, JAMES D.
Evolving institutional patterns for excellence: a brief comparison of the
organization and management of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory
and the Marine Biological Laboratory 183
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE
First impressions: American biologists at Naples 187
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE
Early struggles at the Marine Biological Laboratory over mission and
money 192
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D.
The Woods Hole laboratory site: history and future ecology 197
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D.
From Woods Hole to the world: The Biological Bulletin 200
MIRALTO, ANTONIO
What laboratories for what science? 203
Index 205
Reference: Biol. Bull 168 (suppl.): 1-3. (June, 1985)
LIBRARY
PREFACE
The Stazione Zoologica of Naples was founded in 1 872; the Marine Biological
Laboratory received its first students and investigators in Woods Hole during the
summer of 1888. That each has survived is surprising; that they have survived these
tumultuous hundred years of science not merely intact, but with steady growth of
influence worldwide, is remarkable. There were close and cooperative relationships
among leading scientists of the two laboratories during the decades between 1890
and the outbreak of the first World War. Cooperative relationships have continued,
but the years of the last century's turn were momentous ones for what became
"modern" biology. What went on at the Stazione and at the MBL is thus of great
interest as intellectual history and for the lessons to be learned about the role of
institutions, as such, in the advance of science.
In October of 1984, a meeting was held at the Stazione's ecology laboratory on
the Island of Ischia (which laboratory was once a villa belonging to Anton Dohrn,
the Stazione's founder). With timely assistance from the Commonwealth Fund, the
Klingenstein Fund, and Italian agencies supporting the Stazione, a group of
European and American scholars — historians of science and biologists in about
equal numbers — met to review the events, the ideas, and the personalities of a
hundred years of biology at the two places. As is generally known, the two ostensibly
"marine" laboratories have had impact on far more than marine sciences in that
interval.
The participants could barely scratch the surface of an immense subject, many
of whose source materials are still unexamined. But there was general agreement on
its importance and on the opportunities for new and significant research. Thus the
Ischia meeting and its contributions were meant to serve rather more than the
normal purposes of a scholarly gathering: they were and are meant to be a goad
and catalyst for new historical research, and to act thus upon working biologists
with a taste for history as well as upon historians of biology and medicine.
Such efforts are rarely successful: historians and experimental scientists (and
administrators of science) often fail to communicate. They have different styles of
work and different imperatives. The specialties have diverged greatly during their
professionalization of the past twenty-five years. The high standards of one group
are not necessarily of interest or importance to the other; and what is inexcusable
as form for one can be perfectly acceptable to another scholar.
The Ischia meeting was, nevertheless, a success. It included contributions from
both categories of participant that were exciting and novel to the other: the speakers
did not speak past one another. Catalysis of new projects was in the air. The
auguries for new writing in time for the MBL's 1988 Centennial are strong.
This volume contains the written version of papers presented viva voce at Ischia.
Their publication is essential for the catalytic purposes mentioned. This posed,
however, a problem inherent in the different working styles of historians, archivists,
experimental scientists, and administrators. We saw the choice, initially, as one of
forcing all the papers into one or the other mold: that of an historical journal or
that of a biological journal such as THE BIOLOGICAL BULLETIN. In the end we
rejected both, for it seemed to us more important to communicate the events and
flavor of the Ischia meeting accurately than to dress up the biologists' presentations
to fit the style of historical scholarship or the reverse. The chapters of this volume
PREFACE
Ischia participants left to right: J. D. Ebert, J. Maienschein, M. V. Bennett, G. Allen, C. Groeben, P.
Gross, N. Reingold, J. Z. Young, E. Florey. Mrs. Florey, W. D. Russell-Hunter, E. Cohen. S. Cohen. A.
Monroy, and F. Ghiretti. Not shown: B. Fantini.
are, therefore, si{i generis: they are what went on at Ischia, with transduction only
from the spoken to the written word.
The well-disposed reader will therefore, I hope, tolerate what might drive a
proper editor to fury: as many different forms of bibliographic citation, nearly, as
there are papers, and some abrupt transitions of purpose and point of view. So be
it: we believe that there is to be gained an invaluable sense of the importance of the
subject to different biological interests. Much will be found here that is new, and
some well-known stories, or stories assumed to be well-known, are re-told with new
insights. The price of novelty is a much greater intrusion of the personalities of the
writers than is allowed today in most professional journals.
The papers as printed follow fairly closely, but not exactly, the order of
presentation at the meeting. The broad design, established initially by S. S. Cohen
and A. Monroy, the organizers, was for an opening session on late-nineteenth
century science in general, followed by developments in the characteristic disciplines
of the two laboratories: zoology, embryology, genetics, biochemistry, neurophysiology,
botany, ecology. These sessions were succeeded by discussions of particular institu-
tional policies and problems, e.g., the role of teaching and the funding of research.
There were, finally, a number of informal discussions of present-day issues of
organization and policy. This sequence is maintained, on the whole, in the volume.
The participants are grateful to the supporting agencies, and to the Naples and
Ischia staff members for their cooperation and characteristic warm hospitality. I am
personally grateful to my colleagues. Garland Allen and Jane Maienschein, for their
PREFACE 3
indispensable assistance in the substantive — and hence serious — editorial work. We
all hope that publication of these proceedings will attract more of our colleagues to
the subject, and to exploring riches in the archives of both laboratories. There are
powerful continuities of purpose underlying the key ideas of modern biology, and
those emerge strongly from study of the two institutions. Such continuities do not
necessarily emerge from preoccupation, however intense and skilled, with the current
literature of biology. Yet there is reason to believe that understanding those driving
forces (and, yes, intellectual prejudices) can be helpful, perhaps essential, for wise
decisions about tomorrow's research directions in the laboratory. If the continuities
are communicated even to a few readers of this volume, as they have largely ceased
to be communicated in graduate biological education, then the efforts of organizing
the meeting and assembling this volume will have been rewarded.
Paul R. Gross
Marine Biological Laboratory
March, 1985
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 4-25. (June, 1985)
ANTON DOHRN— THE STATESMAN OF DARWINISM
To commemorate the 75th anniversary of the death of Anton Dohrn
CHRISTIANE GROEBEN
Stazione Zoologica, Villa Comunalc, 80121 Naples. Italy
ABSTRACT
Based on personal accounts from the Archives of the Stazione, this paper traces
the development of Anton DohnVs personality. His inner motivations, his personal
experiences, and the external factors and traditions that led to the foundation of
the Naples Zoological Station are described.
Dohrn strove for a greater degree of organization in science. The paper
investigates the factors helping to achieve this goal and outlines the influence that
the Naples Station had on the foundation of other institutions.
DISCUSSION
In youth we plume our fancy's wings
To flit from sun to sun;
At length we fold them up. and then
A little work is done.
Compared with our imagined deeds
How small and poor it seems!
But then — one little act outweighs
A thousand glorious dreams.
Charles Grant1
Anton Dohrn (1840-1909), founder of the Stazione Zoologica in Naples, once
said: "To create, to organize, to develop — this is my need, even passion."2 It is on
these motivations that I shall focus in the following presentation.
The Naples Zoological Station was an offspring of Anton Dohrn"s personality.
Dohrn has been denned as "an independent pioneer of science politics" (Heuss),3
"a catalyst in the encouragement and stimulation of creative ideas" (I. Miiller,
1975, p. 193), and also as being gifted with "an unusually sure eye for the significance
of the different sections of our science, and for the way in which they interrelate
and complement each other"" (Th. Boveri, 1910, p. 31). Dohrn"s personality
dominated and catalyzed the activity and the work carried out at the Station, from
its founding until long after his death in 1909.
In 1975 O. Skalova, in her sociological case study of the Naples Zoological
Station, contacted 2000 guest scientists who had worked at the Station during the
previous 40 years. From the 650 who replied it was clear that one of the most
highly rated factors was "the creative atmosphere"" prevailing in the laboratory
(Skalova, 1975, pp. 26-28). This atmosphere undoubtedly went a long way to
making the Zoological Station a "permanent Congress of Zoologists,"' as Theodor
Boveri called it in his 1910 commemoration of Anton Dohrn (Th. Boveri, 1910,
p. 40).
I have long attempted to discover the factors that led to, or that help to maintain,
the much-discussed "creative atmosphere"" of the Naples Zoological Station. It was
ANTON DOHRN 5
a peculiar condition in which most scientists became engulfed but could not explain.
It emanated in the first instance from Anton Dohrn. The intriguing question is how
this catalyzing process actually worked, or better, how the personality of Anton
Dohrn brought about such a sense of creativity in others. It is also important to
analyze the external and internal factors, that contributed to the foundation of a
research institute where, in the words in Hans Driesch in 1909, "9/u> of all basic
work in modern zoology has been done'" (Driesch, 1909, p. 514).
Much has been written on the foundation and the history of the Naples Station
(Kofoid, 1910; Groeben and Miiller, 1975; Miiller, 1975, 1976; Partsch, 1980;
Miiller and Groeben, 1984). In 1940, Theodor Heuss published an exhaustive
biography of Anton Dohrn (Heuss, 1962); and the scientist Dohrn and his relation
to the zoology of his time has been excellently described by Alfred Kiihn (1950).
Yet, the question of the influence of Dohrn's personality on the scientific work of
the Station remains unexplored.
Anton Dohrn's relationship with his father Carl August Dohrn (1806-1892), a
well known amateur entomologist (Heuss, 1962, pp. 23-49; P. Dohrn, 1983, pp.
30-81), played an important role in forming Anton Dohrn's character. His search
for acknowledgment among his peers and his essential loneliness as an adult date
from his childhood, as do his liberal views, his interest in people, and his wide
knowledge of literature, music, and science.
The relationship between Carl August and Anton Dohrn was difficult and
tormented, ranging from heated discussions, ruptures, and disinheritance to recon-
ciliation and eventually mutual respect. Dohrn was struck by his father's brilliance
and knowledge, and his wide-ranging correspondence with eminent scientists. He
longed to live up to his father's expectations, hoping to win his respect and love. In
1897, on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the Naples Zoological Station,
Anton Dohrn acknowledged his debt to his father, his "intellectual protoplasma,"
but he also noted that in their family circle it was more important to remember
quotations from Goethe or to recognize music from Beethoven, than to excel in
Greek or mathematics (A. Dohrn, 1897, p. 34).
After having received a humanistic education, Dohrn studied medicine and
zoology at Konigsberg, Bonn, Jena, and Berlin, obtaining his Ph.D. at Breslau in
November 1865. He became Privatdozent at Jena in January 1868. To friends he
admitted:
I have no vocation as a Zoologist. You see, to pass my whole day observing
through glasses whether this crab has seven or eight segments, whether here lie
cells with two or three nuclei, whether this tissue has grown thus or thus — this I
can't do.4
He was always prone to bigger thoughts, to more grandiose schemes.
Dohrn's attitude suddenly changed, when through the influence of Ernst Haeckel
at Jena in 1862, Dohrn became acquainted with Darwin's works. As he exclaimed
in the letter of 1866, cited above, "[I felt] a really piercing excitement;" the once
dry Zoology was no longer an end in itself, but a new tool to acquire knowledge.
The way Dohrn put that new tool to use was through the study of morphology:
that branch of zoology in which fields such as comparative anatomy, embryology,
and physiology were used as a means of elucidating the phylogenetic history of
various groups. Comparative embryology became a cornerstone of morphology,
based on Haeckel's recapitulation theory: that the individual in its embryonic
development passes through the major stages of its own evolutionary past. Morphology
thus became one of the major ways in which zoologists sought to expand and
6 C. GROEBEN
develop Darwinian theory in the last 30 years of the nineteenth century. As a result
of his conversion to evolutionary theory in the early 1860's, Dohrn promised to
dedicate his whole life to Darwinism — a promise he indeed kept.
In 1865, Dohrn accompanied Haeckel on his famous expedition to Helgoland
where, for the first time Dohrn studied marine organisms (Fig. 1 ). It seems to have
been in Helgoland, while struggling home with buckets full of sea water, that Dohrn
and Haeckel talked about a "Zoological Station" (Uschmann, 1959, p. 65). Dohrn's
friendship with Haeckel ended a few years later when the younger man, influenced
by Kant and F. A. Lange's Geschichte des Materialismus (1866), could no longer
subscribe to HaeckeFs philosophical generalizations. But familiarity with marine
organisms as objects for study, and the idea of establishing a marine laboratory
remained an important legacy from Haeckel for the rest of Dohrn's life.
In 1867 (July-September) and again in 1868 Dohrn went to Millport, Isle of
Cumbrae, Scotland, to continue his studies on Arthropoda. There he lived as a
guest of David Robertson (1806-1896), a self-taught Scottish zoologist and later
founder of the Millport Biological Station (1885).
It was during this first trip to England that Dohrn, through an introduction by
his father to the entomologist Henry Tibbats Stainton (1822-1892), met many
English zoologists, most importantly Thomas Henry Huxley (1825-1895), with
FIGURE 1. Excursion to Helgoland, 1865. Standing, left to right: Anton Dohrn, Jena; Richard
Greef, Bonn; Ernst Haeckel, Jena. Sitting, left to right: Salverda, Delft; Pietro Marchi, Florence.
(Reproduced with permission from: Uschmann, 1959, fig. 23.)
ANTON DOHRN 7
whom a close and warm friendship developed. Huxley even suggested a visit to
Charles Darwin (1809-1882), but Dohrn only sent Darwin his publications at that
time. This led to an exchange of letters (Dohrn did meet Darwin two years later, in
September 1870; see Groeben, 1982). Dohrn also reported on his work at the annual
meeting of the British Association, held that year (1868) at Dundee.
Dohrn's close ties with British scientists were to pay off in future years. During
the difficult period (1870-1874) when he was trying to build the Zoological Station,
Dohrn received the greatest encouragement and help from his British colleagues.
Apart from the active support of Darwin and Huxley, Dohrn found a great source
of strength and encouragement for his dream of a marine laboratory in the British
natural history tradition and the readiness of the British to accept adventurous and
even somewhat eccentric plans.
In the period after 1860, stimulated particularly by French and British exploring
expeditions, general interest in the sea and its riches and in the potential of marine
organisms for systematic and morphological study had increased greatly throughout
Europe (Deacon, 1971; Rice and Wilson, 1980). In 1870 at the annual meeting of
the British Association in Liverpool, a Committee was formed "for the purpose of
promoting the foundation of zoological stations in different parts of the world"
(Report, 1871; Dohrn, 1872a; Rice and Wilson, 1980). Indeed, it was this committee,
through its many reports as well as notes and articles regularly published in Nature,
that gave such widespread publicity in the English-speaking world to Dohrn's
Stazione Zoological.
In Germany the general concepts of using marine organisms for biological
research was first promoted by Johannes Miiller (1801-1858). Through his numerous
visits to the North Sea (1843, 1848, 1854, and 1855) and especially the Mediterranean
(in 1849 at Nice and Villefranche, 1850-52 to Trieste, in 1853 at Messina, 1856 at
Cette and Nice), Miiller publicized widely the concept of marine biological research
as a means of elucidating fundamental biological concepts. Miiller was a gifted
teacher, with whom most of Germany's principal zoologists and physiologists had
studied (Kiihn, 1950). Thus, his interest and influence was of considerable importance.
After the British Association meeting in 1868, Dohrn returned to Millport,
where, together with David Robertson he constructed a portable aquarium, to take
with him to Messina, Sicily, where he planned to spend the winter of 1868-69.
The Straits of Messina were famous at that time for the richness and variety of
their marine fauna and flora. In 1788, Spallanzani had studied the pelagic fauna of
the area, followed many years later by the German zoologist August D. Krohn
(1846). And, Johannes Miiller must have conveyed his enthusiasm for seaside
studies there to many of his students, since Messina soon became, according to one
report, the "Mecca of the German Privat-Dozent/v> So favorable were collecting
conditions at Messina, for example, that in one year (1859-60), Haeckel (also one
of Miiller's students and inspired by him to do marine investigations), discovered
more than 1 44 new species of Radiolaria in the straits.
Messina was thus the obvious choice for Dohrn to conduct marine studies.
There Dohrn met up with his friend, the Russian zoologist Nikolai N. Mikloucho-
Maclay (1848-1888), also a former pupil of Haeckel, and later to become an
eminent anthropologist (Miiller, 1980). Maclay introduced Dohrn to the Russian-
Polish family, de Baranowski, whose eldest daughter Marie (1856-1918) was to
become Dohrn's wife in 1874.
Dohrn and Maclay rented two rooms at the Palazzo Vitale, Strada Garibaldi,
right on the port, with a breathtaking view of the Straits of Messina and the coast
of Calabria. They bought some chairs and had two work-benches made for them.
Commenting on their simple life, Dohrn wrote in 1868:
8 C. GROEBEN
. . . and so we live, including service and meals, for 5 francs a day, much
cheaper and better than at a Hotel, where we would have had to climb 3-4 floors
and would also have had difficulties because of our working problems. The
fishermen invade our flat and bring us lots of animals.6
The portable aquarium Dohrn had built in Scotland proved to be very valuable
indeed. For the first time he could observe the breeding of crustacean eggs. However,
faced with such difficulties as bad weather, lack of animal supply, and lack of
literature, Dohrn realized how useful it would be for scientists to arrive and find
the "table laid" for their work (Fig. 2). That is, to find on arrival instruments,
rooms, service, chemicals, and books available together with records of where and
when certain species could be found and useful information on local conditions,
etc. In this spirit he left his equipment and diary at Messina where friends promised
to take care of them. In February 1869 Dohrn could thus write to his father: "The
Zoological Station of Messina has now been established. I retain it an important
progress for our Science should we succeed in getting beyond the embryonic stage."
Dohrn and Maclay had optimistically planned to cover the world with a network
of Zoological Stations. Although Dohrn thought initially of Venice, Nice, Gibraltar,
Portugal, Ceylon, Australia, and the Cape of Good Hope8, in the end Naples was
all he could successfully accomplish.
The potential of marine organisms for morphological and systematic studies had
already led several scientists to try to establish study facilities near the sea, e.g., the
French stations at Concarneau (1859), Arcachon (1863), and Roscoff (1872).
However, these were mostly field stations, connected to a University or Institute,
and were not independent facilities to house a host of different sorts of investigations
and a wide variety of projects.
Dohrn always acknowledged Vogt (1817-1895) as his forerunner. In 1852, Vogt
had tried at Villefranche, and in 1863 at Naples, to found a research and observation
station (Vogt, 1871; Dohrn, 1871, pp. 6-8; Oppenheimer, 1980). Neither had
materialized, however.
Leaving Messina in April 1869, Dohrn returned to Jena for his summer term
lectures and also to collect money for a small building to be constructed at Messina
to house the equipment. In so doing Dohrn put to work his "creative imagination"9,
a quality he was aware of possessing to an unusual degree.
Dohrn's enthusiasm for Darwinism did little to remove his dissatisfaction with
Zoology — research and teaching — as it stood at that time. He felt that his interests
were too wide, or Zoology at the University too narrow — to be able to continue his
University career. Science in itself and scientific discoveries just didn't stimulate
him, or as Th. Boveri put it (1910, p. 24):
he lacked the most elementary urge of a scientist, the urge to observe, to discover
hitherto unknown facts, even if they are unknown only to the observer himself.
Not that he did not acknowledge the value of new discoveries. But it did not
matter to him to make them himself.
Dohrn wanted to make a contribution to advancing Darwinism that would
exploit his complex personality and gifts. He once put it like this:
Proper zoological work has elements that do not appeal to me and do not at all
take into account an inner need, which is to occupy myself in a practical way,
to make an impact in the outside world, to be of service to others.10
And again in 1874, during one of his frequent bouts of deep depression — a heritage
ANTON DOHRN
FIGURE 2. N. N. Mikloucho-Maclay, letter to Anton Dohrn, January 1869, Messina, describing
and illustrating the hardships he had to cope with in order to pursue his studies.35 (ASZN, Dohrn
Archives, Ba 735)
from his mother's family — he wrote in an unfinished last will: "In the center of my
existence lies, I may say, a passion for helping others, direct or indirect."
The growing interest in exploring life at sea, the need for marine organisms for
research in morphology and embryology, Dohrn's own marine experiences, his
championing of Darwinism, and his need to prove himself — all these currents
converged into the creation of the Naples Zoological Station. Dohrn's attention had
turned to Naples because he wanted to connect the Station with an aquarium open
to the public, the entrance fees thus providing the means to pay a permanent
assistant. Dohrn therefore had to choose a large city that attracted many tourists.
Naples at that time was still one of the largest and most attractive cities of Europe
with more than 500,000 inhabitants and about 30,000 tourists a year (Vogt, 1871).
In 1870 Dohrn went to Naples; with luck he overcame doubts, ignorance, and
misunderstandings and persuaded the city authorities to give him, free-of-charge, a
plot of land at the sea edge, in the beautiful Royal Park (today, the Villa Comunale).
For his part he promised to build a Zoological Station at his own expense. Dohrn
himself gives a very colorful description of his experiences with the Neapolitan
authorities in his "History of the Naples Zoological Station," which he started to
compile in 1895. (The unfinished manuscript is kept in the Dohrn Archives at the
Stazione.)
In October, 1871, Dohrn installed himself with all his equipment and books at
the Palazzo Torlonia, near the small port of Mergellina in Naples, together with the
10
C. GROEBHN
biologist E. Ray Lankester (1847-1929). The two friends were thus able to
immediately start their scientific research. The foundations of the Zoological Station
were laid in March, 1872, while by September, 1873, the whole building was
finished (Fig. 3). Two-thirds of the building costs came out of Anton Dohrn's and
his father's pockets, the remaining third was provided by loans from friends.
The finished building contained pumps, machines, store rooms, and sea water
tanks in the basement; a public aquarium on the ground floor; a large laboratory
for about 20 scientists and the frescoe room with the library on the first floor; and
12 smaller labs and living quarters for the custodian and assistants on the second
floor. The first scientist to work at the Station, the German anatomist Wilhelm
Waldeyer (1846-1921), arrived in late September, 1873.
The first department was that of Morphology, then the dominant branch of
biology. In 1876 a botanical department was created. Although there was no room
initially in the main building, physiology was added in 1882 by renting a small
building near the Station. The space problem was alleviated by adding two new
sections to the main station, one in 1885-1888, and another in 1903-1906. A
department of bacteriology was added in 1887, while physiology could now expand
to include both comparative physiology and physiological chemistry (Figs. 4, 5). In
1906 Dohrn had his son, Reinhardt, build a summer home, the Villa Acquario, on
his beloved island of Ischia; today the Villa Acquario houses the Station's Ecology
Department.
In order to cover the running expenses of the institute Dohrn devised the so-
called "Table-System:" against an annual fee the contract partner (universities,
ministries of education, scientific institutions, private individuals) had the right to
nominate one scientist to use a table for one year. A "table" included lab space,
fresh animal supply, chemicals, and the use of the library and other facilities. All of
FIGURE 3. The Naples Zoological Station in 1873. (Dohrn Archives)
ANTON DOHRN
11
the arrangements, financing, and guidance of day-to-day activities, were supervised
by Dohrn himself. To give one example of his successful managerial skill: by 1890,
all debt on the original building and the first addition had virtually been paid; the
annual balance showed a remarkable profit of 8,000 francs (out of a total of 200,000
francs income); and 36 tables were rented annually by 15 different countries. Dohrn
also started a specimen supply program as another source of income. Thanks to the
inventiveness and skill of preparator Salvatore Lobianco (1860-1910), who entered
the service of the Station at the age of 14, the Zoological Station soon became
known for the beauty and perfection of its collections of preserved marine animals.
These were sold to museums, institutes, and individuals all over the world, and
many samples are still on display in the Station today.
Through lectures, conferences, and written articles Dohrn continuously tried to
make the Zoological Station known to a wider public. He always solicited international
support as a way of insuring the scientific and political independence of the Station.
In Germany Dohrn concentrated on interesting influential politicians, scientists,
industrialists, dukes, and kings, always hoping that they would further the interests
of the Station. The Naples Station soon became a "must" for every aspiring biologist
around the world and for every visitor to Naples. In 1877 the Berlin Academy of
Sciences and the Prussian Ministry of Education provided funds for the "Johannes
Miiller," a 5-ton steam launch which served for both collecting and excursion trips.
In fact, important guests to the station were usually taken on an excursion on the
"Vaporetto" to one of the many beautiful places in the Gulf of Naples (Fig. 6).
In 1879-80 the Zoological Station started three different publications: the
Mittheilungen aus der Zoologischen Station zu Neapel (vol. 1, 1879), intended for
' -^. ___
_..
FIGURE 4. The Naples Zoological Station, first and second building. November 1889. (Dohrn
Archives)
12
C. GROEBEN
-.-.'
FIGURE 5. The Naples Zoological Station today. (Photo Lab, Stazione Zoologica)
the research results of staff and guest scientists; the series of monographs Fauna
und Flora des Golfes von Neapel (vol.1, 1880) as an inventory of the Mediterranean;
and finally the Zoologischer Jahreshcbericht (Vol. 1, 1880), a reference journal that
soon became famous for its rapid publication and accuracy.
Although Darwin advised Dohrn that establishing a library would be too great
an expense and consumption of time (Groeben, 1982, p. 29), Dohrn thought that
availability of all the major published sources was a necessity for his research
institute. He gave his own large collection to the Station, and got publishers and
scientists — among them Darwin — to donate their publications in Zoology and
related fields. The Naples Station's biological reference collection is still unrivalled
in Europe today (Fig. 7).
Dohrn was also able to obtain some of the latest equipment through donations
or at special low prices. For example, Ernst Abbe (1840-1905) of the Zeiss factory,
one of Dohrn's few close friends, allowed the Station to purchase sets of Zeiss
instruments at a significant discount; in return, workers at the Station suggested
ways in which the equipment could be improved, and Zeiss was brought to the
attention of the international scientific community (Fig. 8).
Assistants and guests collaborated in improving section-cutting and staining
methods, thus maintaining the high level of technical services offered by the Station.
As C. O. Whitman (1883) aptly summarized it in his article on "The advantages of
study at the Naples Zoological Station," written after he had worked at Naples in
1881-82:
ANTON DOHRN
13
FIGURE 6. "Johannes Miiller" (right) and "Frank Balfour" (left), the two steam launches of the
Naples Zoological Station, at Mergellina. On the left in the background: the Naples Station. December
1891. (Dohrn Archives)
[The Station is] a sort of international depot for the reception of discoveries and
improvements made elsewhere. The heterogeneous material thus obtained is
sifted, systematized, tested, further elaborated and refined and redistributed.
When the 25th anniversary of the foundation of the Zoological Station was
celebrated in 1897, nearly 2,000 scientists presented a signed address to Anton
Dohrn, saying," . . . that we are incapable of conceiving what the present state of
biological science would be without the influence of the Zoological Station" (Dohrn,
1897, p. 13).
In 1872 Dohrn had published the article "Der gegenwartige Stand der Zoologie
und die Griindung zoologischer Stationen" (On the present state of Zoology and
the founding of Zoological Stations) (Dohrn, 1872b) in the Preussische Jahrbiicher,
an important cultural journal widely read by the educated public. An Italian
translation appeared a few months later in a similar type of journal. This essay is
often quoted as one of the classical programmatical writings in zoology, for it lays
out clearly and openly the importance of marine stations for the future of biological
research — a future that had been seen by Dohrn as early as 1868.
Dohrn explains that since the time of Darwin zoology has entered a new stage,
leaving mere systematics behind. Experience had shown, however, that all practical
efforts to promote the new direction, especially the study of marine organisms
usually ended in a waste of time, money and energy, because, in Dohrn's view
[zoology] "lacks organization" (p. 4). He argued that future efforts should concentrate
14
C. GROEBEN
FIGURE 7. The Naples Zoological Station Library in the frescoe room. The cycle of frescos depicting
scenes from Neapolitan life, were created in 1873 by the German painter Hans von Marees and the
German sculptor Adolf von Hildebrand. 1895. (Dohrn Archives)
on two topics: the struggle for existence and natural selection; and the recapitulation
of phylogeny in the development of the individual (i.e., embryology). The latter was
clearly in line with HaeckeFs "Biogenetic Law," while the former anticipated the
ANTON DOHRN
15
FIGURE 8. Anton Dohrn in his office at his Zeiss microscope. November 1889. (Dohrn Archives)
study of populations in their environment and animal behavior. In addition, new
positions in zoology (comparative anatomy and embryology) were also required to
guarantee a new structure, and organization for zoology. Zoological Stations would
serve a crucial function as "greenhouses" for young zoologists.
The Zoological Station, by providing such perfect working conditions, fully
answered the need for organization that Dohrn saw so lacking in zoology at the
time. Good organization contributed to saving money, time, and energy for research.
Dohrn wanted to render scientific research possible, but he had no desire to interfere
with what was done with the means and tools he put at the disposal of his guests.
The creation of such a complex and complicated organism as a research station
also answered Dohrn's personal need "to be of service to others." To his satisfaction,
he had created something new, and in his own sphere he always felt like a monarch;
he compared himself often to Bismarck, whom he greatly admired. Conscious of
his achievements, Dohrn liked to call himself "the Statesman of Darwinism."
Dohrn disdained fame and honors, although he wasn't beyond using his own
numerous decorations if they could be of use in gaining further support. He hoped,
through the small kingdom he had created, to gain power13 and "to exert a strong
influence on the outward conditions of Science." 4 For Dohrn this meant influence
on those who made or represented science.
Almost as a Leitmotiv, Dohrn in his letters to his wife continuously quotes from
the prologue to Goethe's Faust: "In the beginning was the deed." ' While still at
Jena he had decided to channel all his efforts into doing, acting, and creating, aware
that this meant he would have to forego such other interests as socialism, poetry.
16 C. GROEBEN
philosophy, and music. Several times Dohrn calls the Station a creation, a work of
art, similar to sculptures, poems, or paintings.
At this point we should consider the role of Anton Dohrn's own scientific work
and its significance, both for him and for the development of the Station. From
1881 until 1907 he published 25 "Studien zur Urgeschichte des Wirbelthierkorpers,"
thus following the line of research — phylogenetic studies (i.e.. morphology) — for
which the Zoological Station had been built. While the Station welcomed new
scientific approaches — for example, the Entwicklungsmechnik, or "developmental
mechanics" of Roux and Driesch — during the nineties, Dohrn remained a mor-
phologist, using the Station's facilities as did any other table-holder. Dohirfs aim
was not just to reconstruct the phylogenetic tree of vertebrates; his ultimate motive
or "main-spring"16 was to explain the history of human form, of the physical
structure of man. In a letter to E. B. Wilson in 1900, Dohrn well characterizes his
scientific approach:
Phylogeny is a subtle thing, it wants not only the analytical powers of the
"Forscher", but also the constructive imagination of the "Kiinstler", — and both
must balance each other, which they rarely do, — otherwise the thing does not
succeed.17
With Dohrn it was very often imagination that prevailed, which was invaluable
when creative talents were called for, but it was ill-fitted for scientific research where
conclusions must be drawn from facts, and not facts made to fit into conclusions.
In Dohrn's life, periods of practical activity concerning the Zoological Station
were intertwined with periods of intense scientific study. In his scientific work,
Dohrn ranged in mood and attitude from vigorous enthusiasm for the broad scope
of morphological work (for example, his own particular idea, the Annelid-theory of
vertebrate origin), to resigned pessimism during which he limited himself only to
establishing facts and details, without hope of ever solving the larger problem of
vertebrate origin.
One cannot help feeling that Dohrn's intense activity was psychologically
motivated by the desire to prove himself to those who had doubted his ability of
ever achieving anything in the way of serious scientific work. Principal among those
were his father and his teachers Ernst Haeckel and Carl Gegenbaur (1826-1903),
who already at Jena had doubted his qualifications as a scientist, criticizing his
superficiality. Dohrn said in 1872:
I have been ridiculized [sic], laughed at, they have told me that I had no
character, that I were [sic] weak, — in short all those amiable flatteries which can
bring a man to despair or to fury. Then they doubted my beginnings, called me
adventurer and phantast, disbelieved my energy, — now they begin to give me
credit, to believe in me, and by and by they will praise me and admire me.18
Dohrn was flattered that E. B. Wilson taught his works and theories, especially
the Functionswechsel (change of function)19 concept in his student courses at
Columbia University. He was especially pleased that while he was at Woods Hole
in August of 1897, he was asked to discuss his Vrspnmg tier Wirbelthiere.20 Without
wanting to detract from the thoroughness of Dohrn's scientific work, it must be
said that research and theorizing was only one part of his life. As he put it in a
letter to his wife in 1897:
I have told you several times that I make a work of art out of life itself ... I
found chaos before me and have created out of that both a practical organism:
ANTON DOHRN
17
the Station, and a theoretical one, the "Urgeschichte der Wirbelthiere". Each
step on the path of these two things I have visioned beforehand, as an artist first
sees the complete work of art and then starts to create its parts.21
Dohrrfs model was Goethe's ideal of harmonic humanity (harmonische Mensch-
lichkeit)22, that is, the unity and harmony between what one can do and what one
wants to do. That Dohrn acquired this balance is shown by the fact that, after
having absorbed the directive influences exerted on him during his early years, from
about 1870 on, he did not start or maintain any close friendships. By then he relied
only on himself. This was true with regard to the Station and also with regard to
his family.
Anton and Marie Dohrn had four sons (Boguslav, called Bux, b. 1875; Wolf, b.
1878; Reinhard, b. 1880; Harald, b. 1885) and a daughter who lived only one year
(1876-1877) (Fig. 9). Anton Dohrn was a loving and caring father, his letters to his
wife are full of plans and projects about how to help their sons' intellectual
development; they too were something to be shaped according to his wishes.
Although the administrative and social duties of the Station were a heavy burden
for him — and his health suffered in consequence — Anton Dohrn would not share
this responsibility. He was convinced that, having to answer only to himself he
FIGURE 9. Anton Dohrn and his family. Standing, left to right: Reinhard (1880-1962), Bux (1875-
1960), Wolf (1878-1914), and Harald (1885-1945) Dohrn. Sitting: Mane ( 1856-1918) and Anton (1840-
1909) Dohrn. Naples, ca., 1905. (Dohrn Archives)
18 C. GROEBEN
could keep the Station free from bureaucracy and could give full range to his
"creative imagination."'
This also explains why there were no strong or outstanding characters on his
staff. Hugo Eisig (1847-1920), Paul Mayer (1848-1923), Wilhelm Giesbrecht (1854-
1913), and Salvatore Lobianco were all very efficient in their specific areas and they
delivered good research, but they weren't personalities. Strong characters like
Nikolaus Kleinenberg (1842-1897) (Muller, 1973), J. J. von Uexkiill (1864-1944),
or Albrecht Bethe (1872-1954) — to name a few — did not remain long at the Station,
possibly because they clashed with the equally strong-willed Dohrn.
Now, how did Anton Dohrn actually formulate, create, and direct his Institute
and influence science in general?
First, it should be stressed that Dohrn was a very generous and charming person
who was unconcerned by social differences (Fig. 10). He was accepted by everyone:
the fishermen at Mergellina and at the Station discussed their problems with him;
the German Emperor chatted politics with Dohrn down in the Aquarium; and
Carmen Sylva, the Queen of Romania, almost fell in love with him. Dohrn put at
ease guests from all nationalities and backgrounds. Hans Driesch reported that
Dohrn used to say "Here we are a family" (1909, p. 515); in fact, Driesch,
representing a completely new direction of scientific work (experimental embryology),
would have had reason enough to feel unwanted, but he did not. Scientific
discussion, along with very heated, though enjoyable arguments, were frequent; but
they never grew personal.
Dohrn was also good company, taking excursions, enjoying jokes and even
childish games. He even installed a billiard-table and bowling-alley at the Station,
and also organized concerts and promoted literary discussions at his home. Guests
at the "Casa Dohrn" and the Zoological Station thus experienced science and art
as the two complementary sides of European culture (Groeben, 1984) (Fig. 1 1).
Twice Dohrn was offered important chairs in zoology, in 1879 at Naples and
four years later at Berlin; both times he refused. He did not like teaching and
preferred to exert his personal influence through organizing and administration of
science. With regard to the Berlin chair he explained to his father: "Here at the
Station I can better influence the development of Zoology, and have in my hands
human material that is much riper than students." This wish to mold human
material was also reflected in the selection and handling of his staff.
To get out of people like Eisig, Mayer, Meyer, etc., what is possible, for a great
purpose, this is the touchstone of the art of handling people; to find them boring
is a very cheap and shortsighted pleasure.24
What for many of the guest researchers was a perfect, fruitful, and stimulating
stay at Naples, was often directed and organized by Dohrn; one cannot help
comparing him to a puppeteer. One example of this is his statement:
And when I see daily, with how much elan and how much joy all these persons
go to work here, who come from outside, and how I succeed through the timely
interposition of excursions on the steam-launch to keep up the good humour
and high-tensed spirit — then I feel deep joy about the results of hard work and
fearful years.25
That Anton Dohrn himself was a well-known and respected scientist only
contributed to the stimulating atmosphere. From him guests could expect under-
standing of, though not necessarily agreement with, their work.26 As a scientist he
ANTON DOHRN
19
FIGURE 10. Anton Dohrn. Sketch by Johannes Martini, a/.. 1897. (Dohrn Archives)
behaved as a guest himself, not influencing what was done at the Station, only how
it was done. As an impartial diplomat Dohrn would straighten out technical,
scientific, and political wrangles. Unobtrusively, he dedicated more time to professors
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ANTON DOHRN 21
than to younger scientists, because he respected their position and personality. He
also appreciated their influence in directing their students to Naples, and of course
he realized that it was good publicity to attract important figures like August
Weismann (who came in 1877, 1882, and 1887), Carl Vogt (who came in 1879 and
1884), and Emil du Bois-Reymond (who came in 1878).
Dohrn was also an excellent public relations man, constantly seeking to extend
the name of the Station around the World. For example, he was furious at C.
Mereschkowsky, of St. Petersburg, because in several communications of 1882, the
latter never once mentioned that his results had been obtained at Naples.27 Dohrn
also tried to promote the name of the Station through solid publications; he did not
approve of "preliminary notes" that often led to nothing more, and excluded
polemic articles in the Zoologischer Janesbericht, making the journal well-respected
and a must for all libraries and research workers in morphology.
Summarizing, it may be said that as far as the Zoological Station was concerned,
the creative atmosphere was something consciously created by Anton Dohrn, who
in the process proved himself to be the perfect host or, the perfect statesman of
Zoology.
Two main aspects of the Naples Station have inspired the foundation of similar
institutes all over the world.
The first "generation" of scientists was mostly impressed by the technical
perfection of instruments and service (animal supply, sea water tanks, staining and
section-cutting techniques, library) and the high standard of research offered at
Naples. In the U. S. among the first visitors to the Station were E. B. Wilson, C. O.
Whitman, and Emily A. Nunn, all of whom came in 1882-1883, having learned of
the wonderful research potentials from European colleagues. Wilson had applied in
January, 1883, to visit Naples to work on the development of Penatulida "and to
learn your beautiful methods of research."'28 After returning to the laboratory of
Rudolf Leuckart (1822-1898) in Leipzig, after his stay at Naples, C. O. Whitman
had complained, "We have here (at Leipsic) a magnificent building, but nothing to
work with. The liberal supply at Naples contrasts strongly with the supply of tables
here."29 And, after returning to the United States, both Whitman and Emily Nunn
wrote glowing accounts in Science of the Station's opportunities. This did much to
spread the reputation of the Station to younger workers in the United States, who
subsequently visited Naples in the 1890's and early 1900's (for example, T. H.
Morgan, W. M. Wheeler, Nettie M. Stevens, among others).
The idea of a well-equipped marine station for pure research influenced
Whitman in his project for a marine station at Woods Hole that concentrated on
summer courses. It also guided Kakichi Mitsukuri (1858-1909) in founding the
Misaki Marine Laboratory (1887) and E. R. Lankester in building the MBL at
Plymouth (1888). And Spencer F. Baird (1823-1887), head of the United States
Fish Commission, asked Dohrn for technical information on the installation of the
aquarium and the sea water supply in 1875 and 1883, and also for blueprints and
advice for the fisheries laboratory he was building at Woods Hole. Anton Dohrn
was delighted that Naples had become a standard for others, but he was also anxious
to safeguard Naples' position as the "mother-station."
The second feature of the station that so impressed and influenced visitors to
the Naples laboratory was its complete freedom of research. This freedom of
research, of being host to the international scientific community, is the aspect that
has also survived Anton Dohrn's personal imprint. Given his essentially German
background and his independent character, the Naples Station could only become
a "monarchy," whereas significantly enough C. O. Whitman, from the very
22 ('• GROHBliN
beginning, tried to put the MBL on a democratic basis (Lillie, 1910, p. XXXI).
Dohrn's greatness consisted in creating an organism, the potential of which was
larger than national, contemporary and socio-political ties.
In 1888 President G. Stanely Hall of Clark University, Worcester, Massachusetts,
visited Naples and went to see Anton Dohrn at Berlin. In his first annual report.
Hall stressed where Clark University had or had not followed the example of Naples
(Clark University, 1891, p. 7; 1893, p. 15).
President D. C. Oilman (1831-1908) of Johns Hopkins University visited the
Station in 189030 and again in 1902 as President of the Carnegie Institution, which
led to the unexpected rent of two "Carnegie-Tables" for American scientists in
December 1902.31
The Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes (today: Max Planck Institutes) at Berlin were
founded as research institutions dedicated to basic science, following the example
set by Naples. Through the offices of Julian Huxley (1887-1975) the Naples Station
later served as a model for the constitution of UNESCO research programs (Skalova,
1975, p. 1).
Lastly, one of the most striking examples of the influence that the Naples Station
has exerted, concerns the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research in New York.
Simon Flexner (1863-1946), the newly appointed Director of the Institute in 1901,
while on a year long recruiting trip through Europe, visited Naples in November
1903 and spent a few days with Anton Dohrn at the Station; here he sought advice,
and explained to Dohrn and others about the Institute planned for New York.32 A
few days later Dohrn asked E. B. Wilson in a letter: "A Dr. Flexner was here: he
has to do with the Rockefeller Medical Research Institute. What does that mean?
Is it a serious and reliable thing?" 3 Flexner on the other hand, in a long letter to
Christian Herter (1865-1910), reported on his impressions of Dohrn and the Station.
This is one of the rare lively, personal, immediate impressions about Anton Dohrn:
therefore, I quote it extensively:
. . . The most important event of my trip so far has been the meeting of Dr.
Dohrn at Naples. Fortunately he was most courteous and permitted me to see a
great deal of himself. Besides several meetings in his laboratory where he talked
most freely of his plan of organization and its results, he did Helen and me the
courtesy to take us for an afternoon's sail on the Bay of Naples in the Station
Steamer "Johannes Miiller". The afternoon was perfect, the sun shining brightly
on a placid sea of the deepest azure blue, and the shores with Vesuvius, Capri
and Ischia in the background were of the loveliest tints [?] and form. As some
of the Station workers were along I found it easy to pass much of the time
speaking with Dr. Dohrn whose large and remarkable experience at Naples
supplied an endless fund of entertaining descriptions.
Dohrn is now 63, a large hale man, of large voice and pronounced manners.
His love for science is an enthusiasm which is probably greater today than when
at 30 he conceived the idea of the Zoological Station — the first station of the
kind in the history of the world. He is a great man — of that I have no doubt. I
think he impressed me more favorably and strongly than anyone I ever met
before. . . .
He advised me to begin in a small way and was delighted with the idea of
putting the first force into a small house where the early organization can be
completed and from where a move can readily be made into the larger laboratory.
But the advice that he urged most strongly was "freedom". He has never
acted as censor to his workers. They come to him, everything is supplied them
for their problems, but their results are their own. Any discoveries they make
are theirs; and blunders theirs too. "Public opinion, not I, is the censor" was his
ANTON DOHRN 23
repeated statement. "Men work here," he said, "in a dozen different branches of
biological science, can I be authority on them all." "No, no, give them perfect
freedom; let them search where and how they will; help them in every way that
you can, but do not pretend to be master over them." It was a remarkable
pronouncement and coming from such an authority and one of the most
successful research leaders of the world, worthy of the most thoughtful consid-
eration. And the more I have thought over the subject the more I have come to
his point of view. I wonder how it impresses you?
He is putting up now a third building — for Physiology. Of late comparative
physiology has grown with such rapidity that a special laboratory is demanded.
His enthusiasm in the subject is delightful and he expects important returns from
this branch of work. "Dog and Cat physiology" as he called it have about reached
their limit of value: what we require is a study of simpler forms for the unravelling
of complex phenomena and to render their understanding possible. It was
splendid to hear him exclaim over "Science" and say again and again in reference
to this exertion, or that privation, or a specially striking illustration, "But it is all
for Science."'
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
1 wish to thank Dr. Antonietta Dohrn and Dr. Peter Dohrn, Mr. James Thomas
Flexner, and the Rockefeller University Archives for the permission to quote from
Anton Dohrn's correspondence, and from Simon Flexner's letters to Christian
Herter, respectively.
NOTES
'Charles Grant (1841-1889), Scottish poet and literary critic and close friend of Anton Dohrn.
Dohrn quotes this poem in a letter to his wife as referring to his own life. Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn.
Aug. 5, 1886, Naples. Bd 379. Numbers and letters (e.g., Bd 379.) indicate reference numbers of the
Archives of the Naples Zoological Station (ASZN). If not mentioned otherwise, quotations are translated
from German.
2 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn. Aug. 1883, Stettin. Bd 246.
3 Th. Heuss. Bemerkungen zu dem Plan einer Anton Dohrn Biographic. 1939. 3 pp., typescript. Be.
1939. H.
4 Anton Dohrn to Fanny Lewald and Adolf Stahr, April 19. 1866. Jena. Ba 1178.
5 F. de Filippe, quoted by Francesco Todaro in his speech on the occasion of the 25th anniversary
of the foundation of the Naples Zoological Station, April 14, 1897. Dohrn, 1897, pp. 5-10: 8.
6 Anton Dohrn to Fanny Lewald and Adolf Stahr, Oct. 17, 1868, Messina. Ba 1241.
7 Anton Dohrn to Carl August Dohrn, Feb. 15. 1869. Messina. Be 16.
8 Anton Dohrn to Thomas Henry Huxley, April 24, 1870, Naples, Ba 473, and to Fanny Lewald
and Adolf Stahr. July 6, 1870, Stettin. £« 1278.
9 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, Aug. 1, 1886. Naples. Bd 372: and May 15, 1890, Naples. Bd 681.
111 Anton Dohrn to Fanny Lewald and Adolf Stahr, April 15, 1866, Jena. Ba 117:
" Anton Dohrn, unfinished manuscript, September 1874, Hoekendorf, Bd 0173.
12 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, July 1, 1884, Hoekendorf. Bd 283.
"Anton Dohrn to Mane de Baranowska-Dohrn, Nov. 8, 1873, Naples, Bd 0114: Oct. 2. 1881.
Berlin. Bd 207.
14 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, June 6, 1884, Moscow. Bd 268.
15 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, Aug. 22, 1888, Hoekendorf. Bd 543.
16 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn. Dec. 24, 1889, Naples. Bd 648.
17 Anton Dohrn to E. B. Wilson, Feb. 20, 1900, Naples. Bd 846 (in English).
'" Anton Dohrn to Marie de Baranowska, Dec. 31. 1872, Berlin. Bd 020 (in English).
14 E. B. Wilson to Anton Dohrn, April 13, 1909, New York. G, XXXI. 46.
20 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, (Aug.) 13, 1897, Detroit. Bd 1101.
21 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, Aug. 1, 1886, Naples. Bd 372.
22 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, Dec. 27, 1884, Berlin. Bd 327/28.
23 Anton Dohrn to Carl August Dohrn, May 17, 1883. Naples. Be 33.
24 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn. July 7. 1885, Naples. Bd 353.
24 C. GROEBEN
;s Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, April 1 1, 1890, Naples, lid 670.
16 Margret Boveri to Theodor Heuss, July 5, 1939, Stockholm, copy for Reinhard Dohrn. Be, 1939, H.
21 Anton Dohrn to Marie Dohrn, July 29/30, 1882, Stettin. Bd 223.
2S E. B. Wilson to Anton Dohrn, Jan. 29, 1883, Cambridge. A,1883,W.
^C. O. Whitman, May 1882. This passage has been copied by Paul Mayer on a letter from J.
Barrois (original missing). A, 1882, B.
30 D. C. Oilman to Anton Dohrn, Nov. 7, 1894, Baltimore. AJ894.G.
11 From Anton Dohrn's letters and from the Presidential Files of the Carnegie Institution (personal
communication, James D. Ebert) it shows that the two "Carnegie-Tables" were rented thanks to the
insistence of E. B. Wilson.
32 Simon Flexner to Anton Dohrn, Nov. 4, 1903, Naples. A. 1903, F
33 Anton Dohrn to E. B. Wilson, Nov. 11, 1903, Naples. Ba 853.
34 Simon Flexner to Christian Herter, Nov. 21, 1903. Perugia. Rockefeller University Archives RG
417 Folder 7a #5. Quoted with permission from the Rockefeller Archives and J. T. Flexner, New York.
J5 Nikolai Nicklolajewitsch Mikloucho-Maclay. Letter to Anton Dohrn, Jan. 1869. Messina BA 735.
Published in I. Miiller. 1980. p. 39.
LITERATURE CITED
BOVERI, T. 1910. Anton Dohrn. Gedd'chtnisrede gehalten auf dent Internationalen Zoologen-Kongress in
Gra: am 18. August 1910. S. Hirzel, Leipzig. 43 pp. Reprinted in: Naturwiss. 28 (1940): 787-
798; and in: Simon, 1980, pp. 106-149.
Clark University, 1891. Second Annual Report oj the President . . . Worcester, Massachusetts.
Clark University, 1893. Third Annual Report of the President . . . Worcester, Massachusetts.
DEACON, M. 1971. Scientists at the Sea 1650-1900. a Study oj Marine Science. Academic Press, London,
New York. 445 pp.
DOHRN, A. 1871. Kurzer Abriss der Geschichte. sowie Gutachten und Meinungsausserungen hervorragender
Naturjorscher fiber die Griindung der Zoologi.se/ien Stalionen. Neapel. 8 pp. Reprinted in: Simon,
1980, pp. 13-20.
DOHRN, A. 1872a. The foundation of Zoological Stations. Nature 5: 277-280; 437-440.
DOHRN, A. 1872b. Der gegenwartige Stand der Zoologie und die Griindung zoologischer Stationen.
Prems. Jb.. 30: 137-161. Reprinted in: Naturwiss.. 19 (1926): 412-424; and in: Simon, 1980.
pp. 23-46. Italian translation in: Nuova Antologia, Jan. 1873: 1-27. Reprinted in: Boll. Zool.
35(1968): 507-531.
DOHRN, A. 1897. Das 25 jdhrige Jubiliium der Zoologischen Station :u Neapel am 14. April 1897.
Breitkopf & Hartel, Leipzig. 44 pp. Reprinted in: Simon, 1980, pp. 61-104.
DOHRN, K. 1983. I 'on Biirgern und \Veltbiirgern. Fine Familiengeschichte. G. Neske, Pfullingen. 272 pp.
DRIESCH, H. 1909. Zur Erinnerung an Anton Dohrn. Siiddeutsche Monatshejte (Nov.): 513-518.
GROEBEN, C., ed. 1982. Charles Darwin — Anton Dohrn. Correspondence. Macchiaroli, Napoli. 118 pp.
GROEBEN, C. 1984. The Naples Zoological Station and Woods Hole. Oceanus 27 (Spring): 60-69.
GROEBEN, C., AND I. MULLER. 1975. The Naples Zoological Station at the Time oj Anton Dohrn.
(Exhibition Catalogue). Naples. 110 pp.
HEUSS, T. 1962. Anton Dohrn. Rainer Wunderlich, Tiibingen. 448 pp. (1st ed.: 1940; 2nd ed.: 1948).
KOFOID, C. A. 1910. The Biological Stations of Europe. Washington. 360 pp. (Bull. U. S. Bureau of
Education no. 4).
KUHN, A. 1950. Anton Dohrn und die Zoologie seiner Zeit. Puhbl. Sta:. Zool. Napoli, Suppl. 1950.
205 pp.
LANCE, F. A. 1866. Geschichte des Materialismus. Iserlohn. New edition: A. Schmidt, ed.. Frankfurt,
1974.
LILLIE, F. R. 1910. Charles Otis Whitman (1842-1910). J. Morphol. 22: XV-LXXVII.
MULLER, G. H., AND C. GROEBEN. 1984. Die Zoologische Station in Neapel von ihren Anfangen bis
heute — ein "permanenter Kongress". Naturwiss. Rundschau 37: 429-437.
MULLER, I. 1972. Zwei neu aufgefundene Goethe-Handschriften im Anton-Dohrn-Archiv in Neapel.
Goethe-Jh. 89: 278-293.
MULLER, I. 1973. Der "Hydriot" Nikolai Kleinenberg, oder: Spekulation und Beobachtung. Med. Hist.
J. 8: 131-153.
MULLER, I. 1975. Die Wandlung embryologischer Forschung von der deskriptiven zur experimentellen
Phase unter dem Einfluss der Zoologischen Station in Neapel. Med. Hist. J. 10: 191-218.
MULLER, I. 1976. Die Geschichte der Zoologischen Station Neapel von der Griindung durch Anton Dohrn
(1872) bis :inn ersten Weltkrieg und Hire Bedeutung fur die Entwicklung der modcrnen
ANTON DOHRN 25
hiologischen H'issenschaften. Habilitations-Schrift, Universitat Diisseldorf, Math.-Naturwiss.
Fakultat.
M CILLER, I. 1980. Nikolai Niklolajewitsch Mikloucho-Maclay. Bncfwcchsel mil Anton Do/irn. (Bisher
unveroffentlichte Briefe des Forschers N. N. Mikloucho-Maclay an den Griinder der Zoologischen
Station in Neapel, Anton Dohrn.) Verlag fiir Ethnologic, Norderstedt. 127 pp. (Beitrage zur
Ethnomedizin, Ethnobotanik und Ethnozoologie IV).
NUNN, E. A. 1883. The Naples Zoological Station. Science. 1: 479-481: 507-510.
OPPENHEIMER, J. 1980. Some Historical Backgrounds for the Establishment of the Stazione Zoologica at
Naples. Pp. 179-187 in Oceanography: The Past, M. Sears, D. Merriman, eds. Springer, New
York-Heidelberg-Berlin.
PARTSCH, K..-J. 1980. Die Zoologische Station in Neapel. Model! internationaler Wissenschaftszusam-
menarbeit. Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Gottingen. 369 pp. (Studien zu Naturwissenschaft,
Technik und Wirtschaft im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert 1 1 ).
(Report. 1871). — Report of the Committee, consisting of Dr. Anton Dohrn, Professor Rolleston, and Mr.
P. L. Sclater, appointed for the purpose of promoting the Foundation of Zoological Stations in
different parts of the World. Rep. Brit. Ass. Adv. Sci. Edinburgh 1871 (1872): 192.
RlCE, A. L., AND J. B. WILSON. 1980. The British Association Dredging Committee: A Brief History. Pp.
371-385 in Oceanography: The Past. M. Sears, D. Merriman, eds. Springer. New York-
Heidelberg — Berlin.
SIMON, H. R. 1980. Anton Dohrn und die Zoologische Station Neapel. Ed.Erbrich, Frankfurt a.M. 164
pp. (Bibliographia et Scientia 1).
SK.ALOVA, O. 1975. An analysis of geographical mobility of scientists and their communications as a
component of their working conditions with regard to the Naples Zoological Station. Pubbl.
Sta:. Zool. Napoli 39 suppl. 2. 126 pp.
USCHMANN, G. 1959. Geschicltte der Zoologie und der Zoologischen Anstalten in Jena 1779-1919. VEB
G. Fischer, Jena. 249 pp.
VOGT, C. 1871. Eine Zoologische Beobachtungsstation in Triest. Neue Freie Pre.w 23.1 1. 1871.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1883. The advantages of study at the Naples Zoological Station. Science 2: 93-97.
Reference: Hiol. Hull I6S (suppl.): 26-34. (June, 1985)
AGASSIZ, HYATT, WHITMAN, AND THE BIRTH OF
THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
JANE MAIENSCHEIN
Department of 'Philosophy. Arizona State University. Tempe. Arizona 85287
ABSTRACT
This paper establishes that the MBL began as a self-consciously American
marine laboratory, following the lead of its American predecessors. In particular,
Louis Agassiz's School of Natural History at Penikese Island and Alpheus Hyatt's
Laboratory for instruction at Annisquam, Massachusetts, directly inspired the MBL.
Archival sources reveal the connections and the MBL's goals. Teaching and research
were accepted as the dual and compatible goals for the Laboratory, and it was left
to the first director, Charles Otis Whitman, to work out how best to combine the
two. These emphases and the clientele thus attracted clearly distinguished the MBL
from the European laboratories, such as the Naples Zoological Station, which
concentrated on independent research. In part the MBL achieved success because
both the teaching and research focused on shared basic questions, namely develop-
mental questions posed within a solid morphological tradition. Epigenesis and
preformation, the role of cells in development, cell lineage study of early egg
organization: such themes ran through most of the work done at the MBL in the
first year.
DISCUSSION
Over the years a number of myths have appeared about the early history of the
MBL, some better than the truth — as is the way with myths. One such story,
reported to the New York Times, is representative. There David Starr Jordan, who
was then a biologist at Stanford, discussed the founding of the MBL. He reported
that "Senator F. Baird, Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, . . . and his
associates met in 1888 and formally organized a corporation, separate from the
Bureau of Fisheries, to carry on the work" of marine biology (Jordan, 1926).
Fortunately Jordan was a better biologist than he was an historian. Actually Spencer
(not Senator) Fullerton Baird had died in 1887 so was unlikely to have done much
incorporating in 1888. Other myths include the claim that the MBL was simply a
copy of the Naples Zoological Station (Lillie, 1944, pp. 14-15).
I shall examine more closely the foundation of the MBL, and concentrate on
two points: (1) The MBL was established as a self-consciously American marine
laboratory, even while it reflected influence from Naples, and (2) despite the declared
desire to include all of biology, it was the concentration of research and instruction
around shared concerns, particularly developmental problems, which brought about
the MBL's early — and continuing — success.
Beginning with the first claim, that the MBL began as an American effort, I
shall discuss briefly the several cornerstones in the lab's foundations. These include
the influence of Louis Agassiz, of Alpheus Hyatt, and especially, of Charles Otis
Whitman. Others then constructed a strong edifice on the solid foundation.
Agassiz's summer school at Penikese Island provided the initial vital stimulus.
As the MBL's first director Whitman said repeatedly, the MBL was a lineal
descendent of its genetic ancestors, Agassiz's Penikese School and Hyatt's Annisquam
26
BIRTH OF THE MBL 27
laboratory (Whitman, 1883, 1903). For some time, Agassiz had considered the
prospect of running a summer school to provide students of natural history with
practical experience. In 1873, he finally gained financial backing from a wealthy
New Yorker and opened the Anderson School of Natural History on Penikese
Island. The clientele was to be school teachers who sought field experience to inform
their classroom instruction; thus the lab was oriented toward instruction rather than
original research (Agassiz, 1885, chapter 25; Wilder, 1907; Morse, 1923; Conklin,
1927; Wright and Wright, 1950; Dexter, 1974). The school opened in 1873 with
about fifty attendees. According to one report the women were very "schoolma'amy"
and "the gentlemen are not a whit behind" ("Penikese Island," 1873, p. 378). Yet
the group appeared earnest and eager, the same reporter acknowledged, and the
group included four individuals of particular importance for the MBL: Alpheus
Hyatt, William Keith Brooks, Charles Otis Whitman, and Cornelia Clapp. Hyatt
was a lecturer rather than a student, and it was Hyatt who was to become the real
father of the MBL (Dexter, 1974, p. 159).
Agassiz was a master of publicity and made the first day a real show — unlike
the first day at the MBL. The students and a number of guests met on the dock in
New Bedford and went together by steamer to Penikese. There all were treated to a
dinner in the newly (and rather hastily) constructed buildings and to an inspiring
informal convocation. One student admitted that after the guests had departed and
the show was over that the reality of the island proved a bit discouraging. There
they were stuck on an island about % mile long and 'A mile wide, which was
virtually barren of trees or other accoutrements (Anonymous, 1895, p. 21). The
student did not have long to fret, however; work began immediately the next
morning and consumed all available time for the duration of the summer — except
Sundays when most of the students refused to carry out ungodly biological studies.
Some popular accounts give the impression that the students spent their days
wandering idly about the island collecting things without purpose. It is true that the
instruction was highly individualized, with each student spending a good part of
each day exploring, collecting, observing, recording, and generally studying nature
rather than books — as Agassiz instructed. Yet good books, not mere repetitive
textbooks, did have their place. So did lectures. Agassiz invited a number of
important biologists to lecture to the group on a range of natural history topics
(Popular Science Monthly, 1874). In fact, each day began with structured lectures,
followed by an hour or so of dissection. Afternoons often brought freedom to roam
and collect, but students spent most evenings attending lectures, dissecting by
candlelight, and writing up their notes from the day's work. Such a system obviously
worked best for those students capable of framing their own questions and following
through with relevant collecting, but Agassiz and his invited speakers helped
articulate appropriate problems as well.
Not everyone approved of Agassiz's school. The highly respected British naturalist
E. Ray Lankester admitted that what he called "the spasmodic descent upon the
sea-coast" offered a very nice vacation for naturalists who could not otherwise
afford such luxuries. Such trips might even result in collection of a few new species.
he admitted. But, Lankester insisted, "it is not in this way that the zoology of
to-day can be forwarded" (Lankester, 1880, pp. 497-499). A naturalist needs to
work at settling "important questions," he believed. Even Whitman recalled that at
first he found Agassiz's methods unproductive, but that he soon came to admire
them and, indeed, incorporated some into the approach of the MBL (Craig, 1910).
Agassiz's Penikese School continued for a second year, despite Louis's death in
1873 and his son Alexander's illness in the second session of 1874. Then it closed.
28 J. MAIENSCHEIN
Not for lack of funds, as Jordan and others have claimed, but more for lack of
anyone's having taken the initiative to keep it going (G. R. Agassiz, 1913, pp.
129, 131).'
In 1879 one of the Penikese students, Alpheus Hyatt, began another seaside lab
in Annisquam, on Cape Ann in Massachusetts (Dexter, 1952; Boston Society of
Natural History; Kohlstedt, 1979). This laboratory had a purpose closely following
that of the Penikese School. Intended to provide opportunities for science teachers
to observe and study marine animals, the lab was also the inspiration of the Boston
Society of Natural History and was supported by the Woman's Education Association
of Boston. Hyatt served as director, with the Boston Society Assistant B. H. van
Vleck (who had been a student at Penikese) as instructor. After two years in Hyatt's
house, the lab moved to a separate location nearby in 1881. Then, with the
continuing financial aid of the Woman's Education Association, the Annisquam
Laboratory operated as a department of the Society of Natural History. Clearly
Hyatt's ideals helped direct the effort, but the specific purpose of providing
educational opportunities for instructing science teachers came from the Boston
Society, for which Hyatt was the Curator. At times the level of the students'
commitment and preparation seemed hopelessly low. As Mrs. Hyatt wrote to
Alpheus while he was at sea on an expedition, the group was very uninteresting,
even tedious. They were essentially raw recruits, hopelessly elementary students who
were beginning to drive van Vleck to despair (Dexter, 1956-1957). But the school
did attract a few men such as Thomas Hunt Morgan who certainly became a
serious researcher and one of the backbones of the MBL.
In 1887, the Woman's Education Association decided that the project had
succeeded and that they would withdraw support since they held the goal of seeding
projects until they caught on, then leaving them on their own (Hyatt, 1887). The
Annisquam project seemed a success. But Hyatt was rather tired and wished to
develop an American marine laboratory on an independent basis: an institution
separate from the Society of Natural History and from himself as director. He also
felt that a new site would prove preferable to that of Annisquam, which was
becoming polluted. Thus came the move to Woods Hole.
Why Woods Hole? The answer lies largely with Spencer Baird. For several years,
Baird had wanted his friend Hyatt to move the Annisquam school to Woods Hole,
which had purer water, more abundant marine life, a congenial setting and, not
coincidentally, was home of the United States Fish Commission which Baird
headed (Galtsoff, 1962; Boston Society Minutes, 1888, pp. 563-564). Baird wanted
to attract researchers and students to form a research community at the Fish
Commission. In some details he seems to have been influenced by the research
emphasis of the Naples Zoological Station, opened in 1872. At first his efforts
seemed to be succeeding (Galtsoff; 1962, p. 29; Whitman, 1883, p. 97; Parker, 1946,
p. 136). But the connection of the Fish Commission with the government and its
mandate to investigate practical fisheries-related questions made it very difficult for
him to develop in the same way as the more independent Naples Lab. Baird did
attract cooperation from the Johns Hopkins University, which sent Professor
William Keith Brooks and some students to the Fish Commission, and from
Princeton and Harvard. Yet Baird failed to gain the necessary financial support to
1 G. R. Agassiz says that Alexander was always against the Penikese lab and that the financial
situation became impossible when Anderson withdrew his support after the second year. Letters from
Alexander, May 30 and June 23, 1888, indicate that he probably felt — probably not quite fairly — that he
had tried to maintain the Penikese and other marine labs and had received no support from others.
BIRTH OF THE MBL 29
attract other researchers and to establish a permanent research lab in the 1880's in
Woods Hole.
In 1887 as Hyatt, the Woman's Education Association, and the Boston Society
of Natural History began to consider sites for their laboratory, they did find Woods
Hole attractive. Baird had helped the Annisquam school by sending specimens. He
had urged a friend to buy land, near the Fish Commission, which was held for the
benefit of any educational institution that might build there. He had welcomed
Hyatt at Woods Hole. When the MBL was incorporated in 1888 the Trustees chose
Woods Hole as their site, and looked to the Fish Commission for further encour-
agement.
With Hyatt as president, the MBL trustees decided to hire Johns Hopkins
Professor of Zoology William Keith Brooks as the first director (MBL Minutes,
1888, pp. 11-13). Hyatt knew Brooks, and had recommended him for his job at
Hopkins (Oilman Papers). Perhaps Brooks would take the job without pay, Hyatt
suggested, and perhaps the Hopkins would lend financial support to the laboratory
effort. Now, you know that the first director was actually Charles Otis Whitman.
After all, there is no Brooks laboratory building at the MBL these days. Brooks
turned down the offer. Why, you may ask? Why would anyone turn down the
opportunity to become first director of America's first permanent research laboratory
for marine biology? Why would anyone reject the chance to summer in Woods
Hole?
The Trustees offered no salary at first, but that alone probably would not have
deterred Brooks. Who was this man, then, who rejected his chance to become
immortalized at the MBL? Brooks was, quite simply, the zoologist with the best job
in America at the time. He was the only professor of morphology at the American
research university. A student of Agassiz's and participant in the Penikese School,
he was teacher of Edmund Beecher Wilson, Thomas Hunt Morgan, Edwin Grant
Conklin, Ross Granville Harrison, and others who assumed central importance for
MBL history and for the history of biology in general. He was also founder and
director of the most significant marine research lab in America to date, the
Chesapeake Zoological Laboratory, run by the Johns Hopkins (McCullough, 1969;
Benson, 1979, 1985; Oilman Papers). The Chesapeake Laboratory was an informal
arrangement each summer where Hopkins graduate students, usually accompanied
by Brooks, explored marine life in one or another location, ranging from Beaufort,
North Carolina to Jamaica or Bermuda (Chesapeake Zoological Laboratory Reports,
Oilman Papers). Brooks's reports to the Hopkins President about these sessions
reveal his enthusiasm, but clearly show that his leadership style was best for a very
few specially selected men at the Chesapeake Laboratory (and one woman, once—
Emily Nunn, later Whitman's wife). Brooks liked the summer research trips, and
he liked Woods Hole during his visits at the Fish Commission. But Brooks was one
of the most unassuming, retiring, and unlikely-to-be-director sorts of men imaginable.
Perhaps he lacked vision. He did not believe that Woods Hole could support, or
should support, two research labs in marine biology. He chose rather to ally the
fate of his Chesapeake Zoological Laboratory with the Fish Commission.
After Baird's death in 1887, the next Fish Commissioner, Colonel McDonald,
wished to expand investigation at his lab. He encouraged Brooks to work there as
a consultant and researcher and to bring a few of his students as well (Oilman
Papers). Brooks was happy with the Fish Commission and was therefore never
convinced that the MBL was a good idea. He believed in 1888 that McDonald was
making progress in improving the Fish Commission as a research facility. No other
J. MAIENSCHE1N
lab was needed, he felt, and especially not in Woods Hole. As he wrote of the MBL
idea,
I said all that I could to convince Sedgwick [one of the MBL Trustees] that
the Boston Laboratory would be much more valuable if some other place than
Woods Hole were selected, so that naturalists might have the benefit of stations
at two points, and if McDonald is able to carry out his plans and to open this
laboratory to investigators in future years, I do not believe that the other
laboratory can succeed.2
As I said, perhaps Brooks lacked vision. Presumably his convictions led him to turn
down the directorship of the MBL. Perhaps he was also tired after years of running
the Chesapeake summer sessions. Perhaps he did not wish to take on a lab with a
very weak financial base and fight the inevitable battles for funding, with no obvious
general support. Evidently he felt uneasy about having women in his biology classes
and laboratories, and women would be hard to avoid at the MBL because of the
laboratory's connection with the Women's Education Association. For various
reasons, then. Brooks rejected the MBL offer.
Immediately after receiving Brooks' rejection, the Trustees forwarded an offer
to Charles Otis Whitman, then director of the Allis Lake Laboratory in Milwaukee,
Wisconsin (MBL Minutes, 1888, p. 27). Hyatt probably knew Whitman through
Whitman's two summers at Agassiz's Penikese school and also from the years that
Whitman spent at the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard. Though
certainly not as prestigious as the Johns Hopkins, Whitman headed the other
American biological research laboratory at the time. Immediately, Whitman accepted
the MBL offer. With only vaguely articulated goals, the Trustees instructed Whitman
to begin the lab within a few months: to open in July of 1888. They circulated an
announcement to solicit students and support.
The Women's Education Association donated the equipment from Annisquam
to the MBL and also helped the MBL Trustees raise money for the new laboratory.
Van Vleck served as first instructor, as he had at Annisquam, so the MBL
maintained connections with its founders. Yet Hyatt led the Trustees in making it
clear that change was also in order, that the lab should offer both instruction and
individual investigation, and that as director. Whitman should develop the lab as
he saw appropriate. As Frank Lillie later wrote, this decision worked well, for in
Whitman "the trustees had found a man not only fitted to carry out their purposes
but possessing imagination adequate to transform their shadowy ideas, the zeal and
determination required to give them form and substance, and the courage to face
whatever difficulties might arise" (Lillie, 1944, p. 36).
The first year began inauspiciously. Cornelia Clapp, who had also attended the
Penikese School, arrived on time for the new session and found the carpenters still
at work building the lab. Whitman had not yet arrived, reportedly because of family
illness. No equipment had arrived; it remained side-tracked somewhere along the
way. No one had made arrangements for boarding or lodging. In short, there really
was no lab. But Clapp, buoyed by her enthusiasm and by the arrival of the other
attendees — about half and half male and female — stayed and waited. Finally, the
equipment from Annisquam arrived. Whitman appeared, the one laboratory building
was completed, and aside from such troubles as tripping at night over the many
boulders in the paths, that first session of the MBL proceeded successfully, if quietly.
2 Letters, Brooks to Oilman, no date. Oilman Collection, and Brooks to Oilman, December 1980,
on the need for a summer lab in the southern United States since he did not regard the MBL as
satisfactory. Alexander Agassiz, letter. May 30, 1888, shows his opposition to the new laboratory.
BIRTH OF THE MBL 31
During those first years, the Fish Commission proved very helpful in sharing
specimens, providing sea water, a boat, nets, etc. And the Fish Commission men
(for unlike the MBL group, they were all men) visited and discussed projects. Clapp
recorded that Whitman taught basic techniques and how to observe productively
and to get results in morphological research. As she enthused about that first year,
the year before the appearance of Wilson, Conklin, or Morgan, "The atmosphere
of that laboratory was an inspiration; the days were peaceful and quiet; there were
no lectures nor anything else to distract the attention from the work at hand"
(Clapp, 1927). That she fell in love with the MBL experience is clear from her life-
long active association there. This remarkable woman went on to obtain a second
Ph.D. degree with Whitman when he became chairman of the new University of
Chicago biology department in 1890 (Rossiter, 1982, pp. 19-21, 86, 88). That the
MBL succeeded in attracting such loyal and able supporters undoubtedly contributed
to its early success.
The MBL had begun. At the same time that the MBL attracted more researchers
and students, the Fish Commission began to have problems with private researchers.
In effect, the government bureaucracy wanted the Commission to emphasize fisheries
research and did not wish to allow private investigators (Oilman Papers). Brooks'
predictions about the redundancy and failure of the MBL soon proved wrong; the
MBL soon became the preeminent marine lab in Woods Hole and in the United
States. With success, the Trustees and especially Whitman began to have greater
aspirations for the lab.
So far, it should be clear, this lab had American roots. It was clearly a biological
laboratory for America — the first such permanent facility. The particular mix of
instruction and research, with the resulting communication among the students,
young faculty, and established researchers, was peculiarly American, possible only
in a country which had no established hierarchy in research.3 The inexperienced
learned from direct contact with the more proficient. Thus, those who taught the
courses at the MBL could introduce a new generation to the problems and methods
they saw as important. Many untrained American scientists received that practical
learning with nature which Agassiz had sought — as they could not have at the
European stations. The democratic control by a corporation of scientists overseen
by interested trustees came only after some reform and struggle in 1897, but the
organization was uniquely American and surprisingly successful. The lab had
achieved truly national support. The links between that character and that of the
Naples Station remain to be examined.
I come now to my second theme: that interest in development (broadly
conceived) served as an important unifying focus for the MBL. Despite the expressed
goal of including all of biology, the success of the MBL depended on the way the
shared problems, namely developmental problems, brought the participants to work
together and to communicate in an exciting, productive, and cooperative way.
The fact that developmental questions dominated early work at the MBL and
to a lesser extent subsequent work as well is not entirely surprising. Both Whitman
and Brooks concentrated on developmental questions, and these two exerted the
greatest influence on the young researchers who worked at the MBL in the first
decades. More generally, the morphological tradition had come to regard marine
invertebrates as particularly useful for revealing homologies as well as evolutionary
histories, or phylogenies. By 1890, many MBL researchers had focused on the
3 W. D. Russell-Hunter has pointed out that the Milport laboratory in Scotland offered an example
parallel in some respects; this suggestion calls for further careful study.
32 J MAIENSCHEIN
question of how the egg becomes fertilized and begins development. Specifically, a
number of American researchers began to ask whether development follows a
pattern which is predominantly inherited or which is acquired and hence emerges
only gradually: that is, whether preformation or epigenesis predominates. In particular.
Whitman focused on the question: to what extent does the egg cell already experience
organization? (Whitman, 1896; Maienschein, 1985).
It is not easy to answer that question. What sorts of things might even count as
evidence that either preformation or epigenesis occurs? What sorts of work should
be done to attack the problem — careful descriptive observation of prepared materials
or experimental manipulations to acquire new sources of data? Such questions led
to intense debates by the 1890's, which I do not have time to discuss here. But the
intensity of debate and the concentration of research around exciting problems
clearly added to the MBL atmosphere.
Whitman believed that some early organization occurs, that the egg is not
simply a "blank slate," but he left open the question of how much such organization
occurs and whether cytoplasm or the nucleus is the center of organization. He also
suggested how to attack such questions, namely through cell-lineage studies (Whitman,
1878, 1887). Cell-lineage does just what it sounds like — traces the lineages of each
cell through every cleavage stage until the investigator gets tired of the tedius effort
or until the cells become too difficult to identify further.
In 1890, Edwin Grant Conklin was at the Fish Commission examining early
developmental stages. He heard that Edmund Beecher Wilson, at the MBL, was
doing something similar. So Conklin walked across the street, talked to Wilson, and
both were astonished at how closely their results agreed. As Conklin reported,
"Wilson was as excited by those results as I was and he reported this to Whitman.
Whitman at once sent for me to come over to see him in the office. . . ." (Conklin,
1968, p. 116). Of course, Conklin rushed right over, and Whitman said he would
like to publish Conklin's work in his journal. The Journal of Morphology. Others
joined in, including Thomas Hunt Morgan and Ross Harrison, though they never
actually published their cell lineage work (Costello, 1967). As Whitman's student
and second director of the MBL, Lillie, said, when Whitman told him of the people
working on cell-lineage and of their findings, "I accepted his advice to take up this
subject: and worked on freshwater Unio," for which he had to take the train back
and forth to a little pond in Falmouth, Massachusetts, carrying his heavy wading
boots and a heavy bucket (Lillie, 1926). Cell-lineage work served as a rallying point
and attracted researchers to the MBL for a specific purpose (Maienschein, 1978).4
By the mid 1890's, cell-lineage work had begun to pale. Several researchers at
the MBL turned to other morphological questions and to problems of regeneration,
and to physiology and related problems (Werdinger, 1980; Maienschein, 1976;
Haraway, unpub.). Also, the experimental work of Jacques Loeb and Charles
Manning Child in physiology of development and by the German developmental
experimentalists began to attract more attention as a possibly productive method
for attacking those same questions about epigenesis and preformation, or whether
the egg is organized as a mosaic or develops regulatively. Stimulated by successes
from Germany and Naples, biologists became increasingly enthusiastic about the
promises of experimental manipulation, which seemed to many to offer quicker
and more dramatic results than more traditional methods such as cell-lineage work.
4 Publications in journals edited by Whitman, Biological Lectures and Journal oj Morphology, report
the results of the cell-lineage work.
BIRTH OF THE MBL 33
As Herbert Spencer Jennings later reflected, this led to a mad rush toward
experimentation by some. He said of the period:
. . . their tales disagreed radically. They tried for a long time to convince each
other, but failed. And the reason was that there was no way of deciding which,
if any, of the tales were correct. But what hath the man of science of all his labor
and of the vexation of his heart, if it leads to no general agreement, to nothing
that can be demonstrated? And so, the zoologists gave it up; they looked upon
the works that their hands had wrought, and behold all was vanity and vexation
of spirit. Henceforth, they said, we must so work that our results and conclusions
can be tested; can be verified or refuted. We must be able to say: Such and such
things happen under such and such conditions, and if you don't believe it you
may supply the conditions, you may try it for yourself, and you will find it to be
true. But that is precisely experimentation; and so they flocked with enthusiasm
to experimentation. (Jennings, 1926, p. 98)
This led to a good deal of argument, with experimental evidence cited as proving
one or another point of view. As Jennings later reflected, that period seemed a bit
like a comic opera with everyone dancing about singing frenetically "You are right
and I am right and he is right and all are right"' (Jennings, 1926, p. 99). Not
everyone had embraced experimentation, of course. And the turn to experimentation
did not, in fact, solve all the problems as some had hoped.
The rush to experimentation settled down, but the concern with shared problems
remained into the twentieth century. The cross-fertilization of ideas and exchange
of methods really did dominate developmental work at the MBL, as revealed in the
Biological Lectures published from the Laboratory. By 1910, things had begun to
change, as they have continued to do since. Research has steadily diverged in
different directions with resulting proliferation of more specialized research projects,
courses, and publications — which is another story. The early sense of shared
developmental concerns, which provided such a strong foundation for the first
permanent American marine laboratory has faded, for better or for worse. As
Conklin suggested, such changes in biology have not always advanced biological
understanding. Biologists, he said, have become a lot like squid. They have come
to progress rapidly backwards while excreting large quantities of ink (Conklin, n.d.).
Squid, like ink and progress, have played an important role in the MBL's history.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank the MBL librarians and especially Ruth Davis who offered
special help and encouragement at many points, Ann Blum at the Museum of
Comparative Zoology, Philip Pauly for identifying resources, and the archivists at
the Johns Hopkins University Archives for their assistance. Archival materials
quoted with permission. Research was supported by NSF grant #SES-8309388.
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Mifflin, and Co., Boston.
AGASSIZ, G. R. 1913. Letters and Recollections of Alexander Agassi:. Houghton, Mifflin, and Co., Boston.
AGASSIZ, ALEXANDER. Letter. 30 May, 1888. Agassiz Collection. Museum of Comparative Zoology
Archives, Harvard University.
Anonymous. 1895. (Sometimes specified as Stearnes), Penikese. A Reminiscence. Albion, New York:
Frank Lattin.
34 J. MAIENSCHEIN
Bi NSON, KEITH. 1979. William Keith Brooks (1848-1908): a case study in morphology and the
development of American biology. Ph.D. dissertation. Oregon State University.
BENSON, KEITH. 1985. William Keith Brooks and American morphology. J. Hist. Bid. (In press.)
Boston Society of Natural History, Annual Reports (1886-1887); Minutes (1880-1888).
CLAPP, CORNELIA. 1927. Some recollections of the first summer at Woods Hole, 1888. Collecting Net
2(4): 3, 10.
CONKLIN, EDWIN GRANT. 1927. The beginning of biology at Woods Hole laboratory at Penikese
forerunner of M.B.L. Collecting Net 2(2): 1, 3, 6, and (3): 7.
CONKLIN, EDWIN GRANT. 1968. Early days at Woods Hole. Am. Sci. 56: 1 12-120.
COSTELLO, DONALD P. 1967. Reminiscences on past biology. Lecture at University of North Carolina,
copy in MBL Archives.
CRAIG, WALLACE. Memo, 27 August 1910, Charles Otis Whitman Papers, University of Chicago Archives.
DEXTER RALPH. 1952. The Annisquam sea-side laboratory of Alpheus Hyatt. Sci. Mo. 1952: 1 12-1 16.
DEXTER, RALPH. 1956-1957. Views of Alpheus Hyatt's sea-side laboratory and excerpts from his
expeditionary correspondence. The Biologist 39: 5-11.
DEXTER, RALPH. 1974. From Penikese to the Marine Biological Laboratory at Woods Hole — the role of
Agassiz's students. Essex Inst. Hist. Coll. 1974: 151-161.
GALTSOFF, PAUL. 1962. The Story of the Bureau of Commercial Fisheries Biological Laboratory. Woods
Hole Massachusetts. Washington, DC. U.S. Dept. of Interior, Circular 145.
Gilman Papers, Johns Hopkins University Manuscripts and Special Collections, including letters from
William Keith Brooks on the Chesapeake Zoological Laboratory.
HARAWAY, DONNA. The Marine Biological Laboratory of Woods Hole: an ideology of biological
expansion. Unpub. ms.
HYATT, ALPHEUS. 1888. Sketch of the life and services to science of Prof. Spencer F. Baird. Boston
Society of Natural History, Proceedings 1888: 558-565.
JENNINGS, HERBERT SPENCER. 1926. Biology and experimentation. Science 64: 97-105.
JORDAN, DAVID STARR. 1926. "Tells story of the marine laboratory." New York Times (18 April 1926).
KOHLSTEDT, SALLY GREGORY. 1979. From learned society to public museum: the Boston Society of
Natural History. Pp. 386-406 in The Organization of Knowledge in Modern America, Alexander
Oleson and John Voss, eds. Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore.
LANKESTER, E. RAY. 1880. An American sea-side laboratory. Nature (25 March, 1880): 497-499.
LILLIE, FRANK RATTRAY, Autobiography, unpubl. 1926 (?), MBL Archives.
LILLIE, FRANK RATTRAY. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago
Press, Chicago.
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE. 1978. Cell lineage, ancestral reminiscence, and the Biogenetic Law. J. Hist. Biol.
11: 129-158.
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE. 1985. Preformation or new formation — or neither or both? In Embryology and Its
History. Timothy Horder and Jan Witkowski, eds. Cambridge University Press. (In press.)
MBL Minutes of the Trustees (1888-1897).
McCuLLOUGH, DENNIS. 1969. W. K. Brooks's role in the history of American biology. J. Hist. Biol. 2:
411-438.
MORSE, E. S. 1923. Agassiz and the school at Penikese. Science 58: 273-275.
PARKER, GEORGE HOWARD. 1946. The World Expands. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.
Penikese Island, frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper (23 August 1873): 377-378.
Pop. Sci. Mo. 1874. Scientific normal schools, pp. 113-115 and Professor Agassiz's School of Natural
History, pp. 123-124.
ROSSITER, MARGARET. 1982. Women Scientists in America, Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore.
WERDINGER, JEFFREY. 1980. Embryology at Woods Hole: The emergence of a new American biology.
Ph.D. dissertation, Indiana University.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1878. The embryology of Clepsine. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 18: 215-315.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1883. The advantages of study at the Naples Zoological Station. Science 1883:
93-97.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1887. A contribution to the history of the germ layers in Clepsine. / Morphol.
1: 105-182.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1896. Evolution and epigenesis. Biol. Lectures 1894: 205-224.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. Address to the MBL Corporation, 11 August 1903. Whitman Papers, MBL
Archives.
WILDER, BURT. 1907. What we owe to Agassiz," Pop. Sci. Mo. 71: 5-20.
WRIGHT, ALBERT HAGEN, AND ANNA ALLEN WRIGHT. 1950. Agassiz's address at the opening of
Agassiz's Academy. Am. Midland Nat. 43: 503-506.
Reference: Bid. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 35-43. (June. 1985)
THE "NEW" EMBRYOLOGY AT THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION
AND AT THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
ALBERTO MONROY AND CHRISTIANE GROEBEN
Stazione Zoologica, 80121 Napoli, Italy
The time will never come when direct interchange of thought and comparison
of methods of research will cease to be of the highest importance to the
biologist.
:. O. Whitman. 1883. The advantages of study
at the Naples Zoological Station. Science 2:
93-97
ABSTRACT
The Naples Zoological Station was one of the main centers of the revolt against
Haeckelian, phylogenetic embryology. On the other hand, the founder of the Station,
Anton Dohrn, while being a distinguished embryologist, was an enthusiastic follower
of HaeckeFs theories. The question discussed here first is that of the interactions
between Dohrn and the followers of the new trend in embryology, the Entwicklungs-
mechaniker, among whom Herbst, Driesch, and Boveri were regular visitors to the
Station. While Dohrn fully acknowledged the significance of the discoveries arising
from the new experimental approach to embryology, he remained faithful to
phylogenetic embryology. Examining the interactions between two American biol-
ogists most involved in the foundation of the MBL, namely C. O. Whitman and
E. B. Wilson, and the leaders of the "new"' embryology, we then discuss the effect
of these interactions on the development of embryological research at the MBL.
We suggest that the main effect was to promote the new conceptual, and hence
methodological, approach to the problems of development. The Naples group saw
the egg as a cell that could be manipulated in an effort to answer questions
concerning cell physiology. In contrast, the Woods Hole group was interested in the
egg as the starting point of development. This was reflected also in the choice of
the experimental material: the sea urchin egg in the former case and the highly
"determined" eggs of mollusks and annelids in the latter.
DISCUSSION
The Naples Zoological Station was one of the strongholds of the revolt against
Haeckelian, phylogenetic embryology. In fact, it was in Naples that the advocates
of the new experimental approach to the problems of development — Entwicklnngs-
mechanik and Entwicklungsphysiologie — made some of their most important dis-
coveries, thus starting a new era in the study of development. We wish to discuss
here the interactions between the followers of the new approach and the founder of
the Zoological Station, Anton Dohrn.
Dohrn was an embryologist who moved in the footsteps of Ernst Haeckel and
who had immense admiration of HaeckeFs scientific achievements. Dohrn wrote,
in 1867, that "In Haeckel's Gesamte Morphologic der Organismen lies the foundations
of a new science" and, later, that "it is to be considered an established fact that the
development of an animal in the egg and in the larval condition is a condensed
35
36 A. MONROY AND C. GROEBEN
and sometimes obscured image of the development of its genealogic tree." One of
Dohrn's immediate goals was to analyze in detail one of Haeckel's constructions.
"In the same way as linguists reconstruct original languages . . . the zoologist
should be able to outline a comprehensive picture of the development of an animal
group from a large number of embryological data" and hence "to identify the
ancestor of the whole group" (Dohrn, 1872). He thought his "Funktionswechsel,"
which he considered as probably his most important intellectual achievement, was
the key to the changes underlying evolution. The essence of this principle is
epitomized in two passages: "The way of life is the agent that keeps the shape of
the larva until its development has reached the right size and the tissues from which
the insect (Fliige) will arise are already there," and
The succession of functions which are carried out by the same organ caused the
change of the organ. Each function is the resultant of many components, one of
which is the main or primary function, while the others are side or secondary
functions. The lowering of the primary function and the building up of a
secondary function alters the overall function — when the secondary function
becomes the primary one, the overall function changes and the result of the
whole process is that the organ changes [Dohrn, 1875].
As examples he refers to the anterior limbs of crustaceans turning into chelae,
to vertebrate gills turning into mouth apparatus.
Dohrn's theory was the target of a vehement attack by Carl Gegenbaur (1876),
who dismissed it, in particular rejecting the speculations about the origin of
vertebrates from annelids as "a striking example of unscientific comparative
anatomy." Hence, it must have been gratifying for Dohrn to receive a sympathetic
letter from Charles Darwin (24 May 1875) in which Darwin cautiously expressed
his interest in Dohrn's ideas about the descent of vertebrates. Another letter dated
2 February 1875, comments humorously on the theory of the vertebrate's descent
from annelids: "I shall be very sorry to give up the ascidians to whom I feel
profound gratitude." Dohrn's "Funktionswechsel" principle was also endorsed by
August Weismann and Emil du Bois-Raymond.
Thus, for Dohrn as for Haeckel embryology was just a tool, albeit a most
powerful one, to construct genealogic trees of the various animal groups and
eventually to identify the original form from which all groups branched. The embryo
as such was uninteresting. Thus, embryology was reduced to an almost sterile
mental exercise. Saying this does not imply that all embryological work carried out
under Haeckel's influence was worthless. On the contrary, some important discoveries
even paved the way for future work. Yet most observations, no matter how
important in their own right, were contorted in order to fit hypothetical and
unprovable genealogic trees.
Wilhelm Roux violently opposed this approach. The introduction to the first
volume of his Archiv fiir Entwicklungsmechanik der Organismen (1894) may be
considered the "manifesto" of the new embryology. His views opposed those of
HaeckeKs, both theoretically and methodologically, and led to an entirely different
approach to the analysis of development. The main claim was that the study of the
embryo was interesting in its own right. A few excerpts illustrate Roux's point. For
example, the program is outlined in the opening sentence:
Developmental mechanics or causal morphology of organisms ... is the doctrine
of the causes of organic forms, and hence the doctrine of the causes of the origin,
maintenance and involution of these forms . . . the general problem of devel-
opmental mechanics [is] the ascertainment of the formative forces of energies.
THE "NEW" EMBRYOLOGY 37
In so far, however, as forces or energies are only known to us by their effects,
i.e., every kind of force by its specific mode oj operating, the problem may be
defined as the ascertainment of the formative modi operandi.
From these premises follows the conclusion that "The causal method of
investigation ... is experiment. 'Certainty in causal deduction can only come from
experiment, either from ^artificial'' or from "nature's experiment, such as variation,
monstrosity, or other pathological phenomena," and particularly important, "devel-
opmental mechanics must, so far as possible, seek to utilize for its own ends, all the
ends and ways of causal investigation of organisms and the results thereby attained,
and not, in foolish conceit, cast aside any biological discipline as being useless." On
the other hand, Roux did not disdain phylogenetic studies. Indeed
... in accordance with the double course of development, viz. the phyletic and
ontogenetic, developmental mechanics must look for the causes, or modi operandi,
of each of these two courses; hence an ontogenetic and phylogenetic developmental
mechanics are to be perfected. But in consequence of the intimate causal
connections existing between the two. many of the conclusions drawn from the
investigation of ontogeny will also throw light on phylogenetic processes . . .
As long as comparative anatomy attempted to establish only the main course
of development in the animal kingdom, following in a general way the continuous
development of forms only through the classes of each type, comparison of
different forms showed that essentially and unequivocally the same course of
progressive development is followed by nearly all systems of organs. But in
further approximation of a higher degree, viz., in tracing that development
through the orders, families, genera, and species, even to the individual, so many
incongruities in the development of organ systems and organs made their
appearance, that comparative anatomy has been compelled to call in the
assistance of quite a number of developmental mechanical hypotheses, for the
correctness of which only experimental tests can give complete security.
And a few lines later . . . "it would be encouraging if comparative anatomists
would themselves resort to experimentation for the purpose of solving . . . the
problems in which they are interested" (Roux, 1894). These passages, which are
generally overlooked or ignored, show that Roux's position was much more open-
minded than that of some of his followers. He seems to have accepted phylogenesis
in the realm of Entwicklungsmechanik; and in fact the last sentence is a plea for
cooperation with the comparative anatomists. As we shall see, quite a different
attitude from that of Hans Driesch!
The most strenuous and, indeed, uncompromising and arrogant defender of the
new movement was Hans Driesch. It is worth citing some passages from a virulent
and somewhat amusing article written by Driesch mostly directed against Hugo
Eisig and Edmund Beecher Wilson.
What do the phylogeneticists want then? They cannot even do consistent
biological research! Yes! can they do research at all? . . . and yet [phylogenesis]
is there but not as a science as it is not even entitled to this name . . . We know
what we can do and what we cannot do for the time being. Our opponents think
that they know what we don't even want to know. With their comparisons they
deal with questions that by their very nature we have not dealt with and which
in fact cannot be approached ... we have started to approach scientifically a
very small part of morphological problems, others, such as the very important
problem of morphological diversities, not at all. We are well aware of the problem
of Transformation' but we consider it for the time being an impregnable fortress
and we address ourselves to 'Developmental Physiology' as here we see the
possibility of obtaining results while our opponents represent us as if we thought
that Developmental Physiology were all Morphology [Driesch, 1899].
A. MONROY AND C. GROEBEN
And in a letter to Eisig (28 August 1898) he wrote as an explanation of his attack,
". . . it is you that I have as opponent, and not only you, but also Wilson who
with his last publication has become a renegade [referring to the 1898 Wilson
paper]. This is why I have to deal in the article with persons whom I know closely
and esteem personally and scientifically: this is why I had to write it."
How did Anton Dohrn feel about Driesch and the new direction of embryological
research which, ironically, had become so centered at the Zoological Station that
the leaders (including such people as Driesch, Herbst, Boveri, Morgan, and Wilson)
were known in Europe as "Neapler Entwicklungsmechanikef!" There are very few
testimonies of Dohrn's opinion of Driesch as a person and as a scientist. In a letter
to A. H. Davis (10 July 1903 quoted by Heuss, 1962) he expresses his sympathy
and understanding for Driesch: "although I cannot follow the weight of his
argument, or his point of view and of his conclusions." And a year later he wrote
to Wilson:
If one day he could be persuaded that he ought not to boast, even in a mild way,
of the excellence of his intellectual field but to be courteous and magnanimous
with other pursuits, he would grow very much in value. I hope he will one day
be wise enough to feel that; if not his Personlichkeit will never attain the
dimensions of his intellect. I have an intense interest in Driesch, though
sometimes I wish him a good licking [27 July 1904, A. Dohrn to E. B. Wilson].
Driesch, on the other hand, greatly admired the contribution to biology of the
Zoological Station and hence of Dohrn. Indeed, in his memorial address for Dohrn
he wrote that the Zoological Station was "the place where most of the cytology and
experimental developmental physiology had originated, however in their own right
and not as sciences at the service of the theory of descent, and in fact in open
contrast with Phylogenesis" (Driesch, 1909).
Driesch was certainly one of the most interesting and influential personalities at
the Naples Station beginning with his first visit in 1891 (Driesch, 1951). For a
number of scientists who worked at the Station his influence was a decisive factor
in their scientific life. Also, it was largely due to Driesch that researchers recognized
the great advantage of the sea urchin egg as an experimental tool. Until recently, in
fact, 90% of the work on fertilization and a large percentage of all embryological
work rested on experiments on the sea urchin egg. Indeed, it had become a
widespread belief that "what is true for the sea urchin must be true for all animals."
The discovery of the sea urchin egg as an experimental material can be traced back
to the work at Villefranche by the Hertwigs, who followed in vivo the details of the
formation of the zygote nucleus from the fusion of the male and the female
pronuclei (Hertwig, 1876). It was, however, due to Curt Herbst and Driesch that
embryologists realized how well the sea urchin egg lent itself to experimental
manipulations. One of the earliest, and in fact one of the most important break-
throughs, was Herbsf s discovery that blastomeres of the cleaving sea urchin egg
would be separated from one another after a brief exposure to calcium-free sea
water (Herbst, 1908). These experiments paved the way to one of the most
fascinating areas of research in embryology, that of cell interactions. Almost at the
same time Driesch succeeded in separating the first two blastomeres and showing
that a whole embryo could arise from each one of them. This observation, which
at first appeared to contradict Roux's results on the amphibian egg, began the long
controversy on the mosaic versus regulatory organization of the egg. The aggressive
method used by Driesch to separate the blastomeres by violently shaking the egg
(the embryologists who used Driesch's method were derisively called "egg-shakers")
were later superseded by the highly sophisticated microsurgical technique devised
THE "NEW" EMBRYOLOGY 39
by Sven Horstadius in the early thirties (Horstadius, 1973). To this day Horstadius's
work is one of the points of reference for sea urchin embryology. In Theodor
Boveri's hands the sea urchin egg proved also to be an excellent material for the
study of the nuclear-cytoplasmic interactions in development through the analysis
of the hybrid combinations, a method further developed by his student Fritz Baltzer
and still widely used (Baltzer, 1967). (The unfinished manuscript of Boveri's last
work on the development of merogonic and partially merogonic sea urchin hybrids
is preserved in the MBL Library.) The sea urchin egg was equally important for the
study of physiological and biochemical problems, not only those specifically related
to development but also those of a more general character. In this context. Otto
Warburg's work has a special prominence. His discoveries of the change in the
respiration of the sea urchin egg as a result of fertilization started a new field of
"chemical embryology/' a research line pursued at the Zoological Station primarily
by John Runnstrom and his school (Warburg, 1910). Runnstrom was indeed a
frequent visitor to the Station almost to his death.
In Woods Hole, however, experiments on the sea urchin egg did not start on a
large scale until Jaques Loeb's discovery of artificial parthenogenesis (1899), and
until Frank Lillie became interested in fertilization early in 1900 [even though
Wilson had shown how well-suited the sea urchin egg was for the study of
fertilization and cell division (Wilson, 1895)]. This reflects the different kinds of
problems which the embryologists in Woods Hole were considering. In Naples,
largely under the influence of Driesch and Herbst and later Boveri, interest focused
on what Driesch called "developmental physiology," or the study of mechanisms
controlling the early stages of development. Woods Hole embryologists, mostly
under the influence of Charles Otis Whitman, were interested in the "program of
development" and hence primarily in cell lineage. They were interested in the egg
and the oocyte as the point of departure for development. The problem of
"promorphology," which was completely alien to the Naples group, was central to
the Woods Hole embryologists.
The few documents available suggest that Dohrn was aware of the revolution that
was taking place in the field of embryology. He recognized the strength of the tide,
but still felt lingering fondness for his "fallen idol." He had to "play the host," and
as Director of the Station it was his duty to stay an dehors de la melee: to take
sides might have endangered the position of the Station. In this connection, Dohrn
complained of Froriep's use (Froriep, 1902) of meaningless and empty expressions:
1 see in those expressions only empty schemes of the kind that have greatly
damaged the already discredited phylogenetic research, and which one should
strenuously avoid, if one want to repel within due limits the highbrowed criticism
that phylogenesis receives from the completely differently oriented Entwicklungs-
mechanik or Entwicklungsphysiologie, and if one want to strengthen its indepen-
dent and fundamental importance as a historic-biological discipline [Dohrn.
1904].
Thus Boveri may not have been fair when he wrote:
Not that he did not recognize the value of new discoveries . . . Isn't it surprising
that the rich mine that he himself had opened, has had essentially no influence
on his own work? The direction of his research was not determined by any kind
of external stimuli, but the specific problems that originated in his mind
developed into theories that he then tried to verify with facts [Boveri, 1910].
Let us turn to the question of how and to what extent the atmosphere at the
Zoological Station and Dohrn's personality influenced visitors. We shall limit our
analysis to only two of the first American biologists to work at the Station: Whitman
40 A. MONROY AND C. GROEBEN
and Wilson. Given the role played by these two men in establishing the new trend
of embryological research in the United States, rather than their own research
contributions, we feel that Whitman should be considered the key figure and in fact
"the inspirational leader" (Maienschein, 1978). Whitman visited Naples for the first
time from November 1881 to May 1882; ten years earlier than Driesch. When he
went to Naples he had already had graduate training with Rudolf Leuckart in
Leipzig, and hence he had already been exposed not only to the physiological
methods but also to the anti-Haeckel wave already in full swing in Germany, whose
most prominent figure was Wilhelm His. At that time Whitman had already
published his important paper on "The embryology of Clepsine'" (Whitman,
1878, 1888).
These dates are important as they show that when Whitman went to Germany
he already had certain well-defined ideas and, more importantly, he had already
developed working hypotheses as to the problems of development and the method-
ological approach to them. Whitman rejected the idea that gastrulation was the first
important event of the development — an idea that carried much weight in phylo-
genetic embryology and that had been the cornerstone of the "Gastrea" theory.
Whitman was among the first to herald the idea that the study of development had
to start from the divided egg. In particular, he maintained that the origin of the
germ layers (a topic of fundamental importance to the Haeckelians) could not be
properly understood without knowledge of the principal events of cleavage, in
particular of the eventual significance of the various blastomeres. This means that
the main object of embryology was the study of the history of the embryo, from
the egg to the adult, rather than from the embryo to the ancestors (Whitman 1894b,
1895). This was well in line with the approach acclaimed by the new German
embryological school. What seems new is that Whitman stressed the importance of
the organization of the egg — the promorphology — as the basis to understanding
development.
Whitman's views on promorphology, organization and epigenesis are best
explained in his lecture "Evolution and epigenesis" (1894a) where he wrote:
It has become perfectly clear . . . that epigenesis, as now understood, does
not cover the whole field. Only the old epigenesis . . . ever pretended to start
the development of organisms from the level of inorganic matter. . . .
The indubitable fact on which we now build is not bit of inorganic homogeneity,
into which organization is to be sprung by a coagulating principle, or cooked in
by a calidum innatum. or wrought out by a spinning archaeus, but the ready-
formed, living germ, with an organization cut directly from a preexisting, parental
organization of the same kind. . . .
The essential thing here is, not simply continuity of germ substance of the
same chemico-physical constitution, but actual identity of germ organization with
stirp-organization . . .
Let this 'organization' stand for no more than our neoepigeneticists freely
concede, namely, that original constitution of the germ, which predetermines its
type of development and the form which ultimately distinguishes it from other
species developing under like external conditions.
and
The question does not now turn on either of the old hinges, but on what
factors determine the type of development. Instead of asking, are all the parts
predelineated? we ask, how are they delineated? Instead of referring development
to a deus ex machind, or accident, we ask, what is the mechanism of the germ
which enables it under suitable conditions to grow, divide, differentiate, and
reproduce all the complicated details of its own species? We see that every form
THE "NEW" EMBRYOLOGY 41
presented in development issues as the product of what has gone before and as
the foundation of what is yet to come. Retrospectively, it is a 'determinate,'
prospectively, it is a 'determinant.'
Indeed, Whitman challenged the anti-historical approach of the Entwicklungs-
machaniker, though not that of Roux. Organisms are the product of a long evolution
and hence they cannot be properly analysed, let alone understood, without keeping
this fact well in mind. Whitman consequently rejected the view of embryology as
only "physiology of development" which was based on the assumption that
evolutionary history does not play any part in the explanation of ontogeny. Hence,
he made a plea for cooperation between morphology and physiology.
Without any direct sources of information it is impossible to say whether Dohrn
and Whitman exerted any scientific influence on one another. Certainly Whitman's
1883 article on the Zoological Station shows that he was strongly impressed by its
organization and by the atmosphere that Dohrn had managed to create there yet,
as we shall see shortly, he did not share some of Dohrn's principles. Nor is it
possible to make any meaningful inferences from Whitman's papers after his stay
in Naples. It does seem unlikely that the topic of evolution was never mentioned
during their conversations. The most that can be said is that daily contact with
Anton Dohrn may have been influential in mitigating the later anti-phylogenetic
attitude of the most fervent German Entwicklungsmechanikers. This is why it is
important that Whitman was in Naples before the Driesch era since he developed
his own views without being influenced by Driesch's overwhelming personality.
This experience at Naples was of great importance when Whitman began the
Marine Biological Laboratory. Indeed, he brought not only the spirit of freedom he
had experienced at the Zoological Station, but also an open-minded attitude to
approaches to the problems of development. Nothing gives better evidence of the
atmosphere that has prevailed at the Marine Biological Laboratory since its
foundation than the Biological Lectures. Contrary to Anton Dohrn who, under the
banner of freedom, banned teaching, lectures, and debates from the Station,
Whitman stressed these aspects. And this is why now, nearly a century later, we
have an invaluable testimony of not only how biological research and thinking
evolved, but of the disagreements and personality clashes that occurred along the
way. For this reason developmental biologists owe Whitman a debt equal to that
which is owed Anton Dohrn.
Wilson's story is quite different. A student of William Keith Brooks, one of the
staunchest Haeckelians, Wilson soon became dissatisfied with the phylogenetic
approach to embryology. It is significant that his work ripened during his first stay
in Woods Hole. There he met Whitman who took great interest in this research on
the development of Nereis. It is, however, certain that Theodor Boveri exerted the
greatest influence on Wilson, followed by Hans Driesch whom he met in Naples in
1892. It was Boveri who remained his point of reference throughout his life, and it
is significant that Wilson's celebrated and classic book The Cell in Development and
Inheritance (1896) is dedicated "To my friend Theodor Boveri." It is no wonder,
then, that very early in his scientific career Wilson was decidedly oriented toward
the cellular approach to the study of development, with major emphasis on the
nucleus. In The Cell he writes:
The primary determining cause of development is the nucleus, which operates
by setting up a continuous series of specific metabolic changes in the cytoplasm.
This process begins during ovarian growth, establishing the external form of the
egg, its primary polarity, and the distribution of substances within it. The
cytoplasmic differentiations thus set up form, as it were, a framework within
42 A. MONROY AND C. GROEBEN
which the subsequent operations take place in a course which is more or less
firmly fixed in different cases.
Thus Wilson, as did Whitman, looked at the events of oogenesis as the most
important events for the subsequent development of the embryo. This does not,
however, make him a "preformationist" in the usual meaning of the word.
A detailed account and discussion of Wilson's embryological work, especially
with respect to the problem of cell lineage, is provided by Maienschein (1978).
Whitman's influence is felt in Wilson's position toward the evolutionary interpretation
of development. Wilson's views are best expressed in the two lectures on the
"Embryological criterion of homology" (1894) and "Cell lineage and ancestral
reminiscence" (1898a, b). Concerning homology, which was another cornerstone of
phylogenetic embryology, his position was indeed similar to Whitman's: . . . "// is
the prospective and not the retrospective aspect of development that is decisive . . ."
This is shown most clearly in the case of the germ layers and the cleavage stages.
In the latter case embryonic origin and position are utterly worthless apart from
developmental destiny. In all these cases homology is determined "not by origin but
by fate" A few pages later, ". . . the events of ontogeny are essentially adaptive,
and . . . the persistence of ancestral reminiscences in development or of similarities
in the development of homologous parts is in some way connected with the persistence
of ancestral conditions of development" (Wilson, 1894).
Wilson was also a close friend of Anton Dohrn, but again their correspondence
reveals only their respect for each other's point of view and remarks concerning
common extrascientific interests. Although our inquiry has not established whether
and to what extent Dohrn may have influenced scientists working at the Station, or
their influence on him, it does lead to some indications as to why the Naples Station
and the MBL developed in different directions. This divergent growth can be traced
to the different roles their founders conceived for them. When Anton Dohrn
founded the Zoological Station, science in Europe and particularly in Germany,
was flourishing as never before and it enjoyed great esteem in social and political
circles. The university offered excellent teaching facilities, but here were two things
a university could not provide. One was a place where people could work under
conditions of complete freedom, meaning that no demands should be made on
them. The second was the marine material which was proving increasingly to offer
unique experimental opportunities. In the U. S., on the other hand, biology was in
a backwater compared to Europe, the cultural center of the world. The Americans
felt isolated. This is indeed the leitmotiv of the articles that Whitman (1883) and
Morgan (1896) wrote on the Zoological Station. Their most urgent need was to
educate a class of high caliber scientists who could compete with the Europeans.
And, as said before, one of Whitman's greatest achievements was to create the
Marine Biological Laboratory primarily as an educational center. Educational
meaning, in the broadest sense, a place where the exchange of ideas and collaborations
were almost forced upon the investigators through series of lectures and, above all,
as a result of their participation in various courses. The Embryology course was one
of the earliest and most successful courses, judging from the number of eminent
biologists who had their starts there. What was the take-home lesson for the
American embryologists who worked in Naples? It seems to be two-fold. First, it
was the idea of having a laboratory devoted to research where people had the
opportunity to meet and exchange their ideas, a kind of "permanent congress," in
an atmosphere of complete freedom. Second, contact with the leaders of the new
intellectual and methodological approach to the problems of development gave the
Americans new impetus for a fresh approach to their own problems.
THE "NEW" EMBRYOLOGY 43
LITERATURE CITED
BALTZER, F. 1967. Theodor Boveri: Life and Work of a Great Biologist. Univ. of California Press.
BOVERI, TH. 1910. Anton Dohrn: Gedachtinssrede gehalten auf dem internationalem Zoologen-Kongress
in Graz am 18 Aug. 1910.
DOHRN, A. 1867. Eugerion Boeckingi und die Genealogie der Arthropoden. Stettin. Entomol. Z. 28:
145-153.
DOHRN, A. 1872. Der gegenwartige Stand der Zoologie und die Grundung zoologischer Stationen. Preuss.
Jahrb 30: 137-161.
DOHRN, A. 1875. Die Ursprung der Wirbelthieren und das Prinzip des Funktionswechsel. W. Englemann,
Leipzig.
DOHRN, A. 1904. Studien zur Urgeschicht des Wirbelthierkorper. 24. Die Premandibularhole: Mitt. Zool.
Station Neapel 17: 117-299.
DRIESCH, H. 1899. Von der Methode der Morphologic. Kriiische Erortemngen. Biol. Centralblatt 19:
3-58.
DRIESCH, H. 1909. Zur Erinnerung an Anton Dohrn. Siiddt. Monatsch. 6: 514.
DRIESCH, H. 1951. Lebenserinnerungen. Reinhardt Ver., Miinchen & Basel.
EISIG, H. 1898. Zur Entwicklungsgeschichet der Capitalliden. Mitt. Zool. Station Neapel 13, 1-292.
FRORIEP. A. 1902. Einige Bemerkungen zur Kopffrage. Anal. An:., 21: 545-553.
GEGENBAUR, C. 1876. Die Stellung und Bedeutung der Morphologic. Morphol. Jahrb. 1: 1-19.
GROEBEN, CH., ed. 1982. Charles Darwin (1809-1882)-Anton Dohrn (1840-1909) Correspondence.
Macchiaroli, Napoli.
HERBST, C. 1908. Ueber die osmotischen Eigenschaften und die Entsteheung der Befruchtungsmembran
beim Seeigelei. Arch. Entwiddungsmech. d. Org. 26: 82-88.
HERTWIG, O. 1876. Beitrage zur Kenntniss der Bildung, Befruchtung und Theilung des thierischen Eies.
Morphol. Jahrb. 1: 347-434.
HEUSS, TH. 1962. Anton Dohrn in Neapel.
HORSTADIUS, S. 1973. Experimental Embryology of Echinodenns. Clarendon Press, Oxford.
KUHN, A. 1950. Anton Dohrn und die Zoologische Station Neapel. Publ. Sta:. Zool. Napoli, Suppl.
1950, 203 pages.
LOEB, J. 1899. On the nature of the process of fertilization and the artificial production of normal larvae
(plutei) from the unfertilized eggs of the sea urchin. Am. J. Physio/. 3: 135-138.
LOEB, J. 1900. On the Nature of the process of fertilization. Biol. Led.. Woods Hole 1: 273-282.
LOEB. J. 1908. Ueber die osmotischen Eigenschaften und die Entsteheung der Befruchtungsmembran
beim Seeigelie. Arch. Entwiddungsmech. d. Org. 26: 82-88.
MAIENSCHEIN, J. 1978. Cell lineage, ancestral reminiscence, and the biogenetic law. J. Hist. Biol. 11:
129-158.
MORGAN, T. H. 1896. Impressions of the Naples Zoological Station. Science 53: 16-18.
Roux, W. 1894. Einleitung. Arch. Entwiddungsmech. d. Org. Iu42.
WARBURG, O. 1910. Ueber die Oxydationen in lebenden Zellen nach Versuche am Seeigelei. Ztscli.
Physiol. Chemie 66: 305-340.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1878. The embryology of Clepsine. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 18: 252-258.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1883. The advantages of study at the Naples Zoological Station. Science 2: 93-97.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1888. A contribution to the history of germ layers of Clepsine. J. Morphol. 1: 105-182.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1894a. Evolution and epigenesis. Biol. Led., Woods Hole 3: 205-224.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1894b. The inadequacy of the cell theory of development. Biol. Led.. Woods Hole 2:
105-124.
WILSON, E. B. 1984. The embryological criterion of homology. Biol. Led., Woods Hole 3: 101-124.
WILSON, E. B. 1895. An Atlas of the Fertilization and Karyokinesis of the Ovum. Columbia Univ. Press.
WILSON, E. B. 1896. The Cell in Development and Inheritance. Columbia Univ. Press.
WILSON, E. B. 1898a. Cell lineage and ancestral reminiscence. Biol. Led., Woods Hole 6: 21-42.
WILSON, E. B. 1898b. Contributions on cell lineage and ancestral reminiscence. Ann. N. Y. Acad. Sci.
11: 1-27.
Reference: Biol. Hull. 168 (suppl.): 44-61. (June, 1985)
THE SCIENCES, 1850-1900, A NORTH ATLANTIC PERSPECTIVE
NATHAN REINGOLD AND JOEL N. BODANSKY
Henry Papers, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC 20560
ABSTRACT
For an overview of the sciences in the last half of the nineteenth century, a
series of tables are presented on the official support of the sciences for Germany,
the United Kingdom, and the United States at ten-year intervals plus a set of tables
with a similar but more detailed breakdown for the United States. The limitations
of the data are discussed and certain subdivisions of the tables are analyzed in terms
of both national characteristics and indications of later trends. A review of the
United States situation at the turn of the century follows, particularly stressing a
few relative differences from the other two nations. The paper concludes with a
brief consideration of similarities disclosed by the data.
DISCUSSION
To give an overview of what was happening in the sciences, 1850-1900, this
paper will present a series of quantitative data of carefully limited scope. Much of
what follows will consist of a discussion of the characteristics of the data, of what
the data apparently indicates, and of some general questions arising from these
findings. Quantification is not viewed by the authors as necessarily the road to
historical understanding, let alone as encompassing all significant aspects of the
past. Conceptual, institutional, and ideological (in a non-Marxist sense) factors often
elude quantitative history. Nevertheless, our data represents another way of slicing
the historical pie, and one producing results of reasonable validity and even some
heuristic values.
The original computations resulted from the desire of the senior author to
extend backward in time the kind of information for the United States given by the
National Science Foundation's well known series Federal Funds for Science in order
to test the veracity of contemporary and retrospective statements about the history
of science in the United States and to compare the situations in the North American
republic with analogous developments in Europe. Known, existing published Amer-
ican sources only permit a limited extrapolation back to the late 1930's; all known
earlier data for this century are patchy and flawed to a point of near uselessness.
For the last century, an attempt was made to gauge the development of a professional
scientific community using numbers derived from studies of the historical bibliography
of the sciences and from the occupational data given by the decennial U. S. Census.
Although lacking a high degree of precision, the findings provided useful orders of
magnitude illuminating questions for further research.1
The present paper is an extension of the prior effort to the estimation of the
official support of the sciences, 1850-1900, stimulated by the existence of two
similar attempts for the United Kingdom and Germany: R. M. MacLeod and
E. K. Andrews' unpublished compilation for the U. K., "Selected Science Statistics
Relating to Research Endowment and Higher Education: 1850-1914," 1976; and
F. R. Pfetsch's Zur Entwicklung der Wissenschaftspolitik in Deutschland, 1750-
1914, (Berlin, 1974). The date span of the paper derives from the U. K. study's
44
THE SCIENCES, 1850-1900 45
earliest data and the fact that private sector funding became much more consequential
in the United States after 1900, making the federal funds a significantly lesser aspect
of the whole than for the preceding decades, a situation persisting until the scientific
mobilization of World War II. The figures for the United States are taken from
published reports of receipts and expenditures of the Department of the Treasury
supplemented as necessary by recourse to the published annual reports of the
administrative entities. All the data of the three nations are formally comparable as
to origins, a fact that proves both a virtue and a hazard to the historian.
The tables are in two sets, one being the comparative accounts, the second
consisting of a more detailed breakdown for the United States; in both sets results
are given at ten year intervals (1850, 1860, 1870, 1880, 1890, 1900). Presumably,
similar detailed breakdowns are possible for Great Britain and Germany. The three-
country limitation is regrettable but not fatal, arising from the lack, to our
knowledge, of works comparable to Pfetsch and to MacLeod and Andrews. No
doubt similar data exists in the official statistics of many nations, if not in
unpublished archival sources. The three countries are an interesting sample, consisting
of the two leading national scientific communites at the turn of the century plus a
significantly rising presence in the world's scientific economy. From other evidence
for specific disciplines, notably physics, and for other countries, particularly France,
we believe that little, if any, of the general pattern disclosed will require major
amendment. Nevertheless, we hope others compile equivalent data for countries
like France, Italy, Russia, Japan, Austro-Hungary, Sweden, the Netherlands, and
Switzerland.
To maximize comparability, the U. S. data is given by the categories and
standards of the United Kingdom and German sources even though this has
seriously complicated our labors at a number of points. Pfetsch is far less explicit
in explaining his data than MacLeod and Andrews, but we believe this has not
vitiated our basic premises. National differences, whether of current compilers or of
the historic data, produce interesting problems not always amenable to easy solution.
Both the German and British compilations, for example, include their respective
patent offices as a "scientific" activity, something we would have excluded and
suspect would not have figured in any U. S. computation of the late nineteenth
century. We regard the Patent Office as a property-granting entity, not one engaged
in research or in the administration of a development program. The resulting
swelling of the U. S. figures obscures the entire question of the theory /applications
relationship.
Concentrating on official support obviously evades the entire question of the
private sector's role in the support of science, clearly an important matter in the
United States and in Great Britain (to a lesser extent) in our period and at other
times, but of still lesser importance in Germany. Non-official support will be
discussed in a few contexts.
Concentrating on governmental support produces two important consequences
for the data presented in these tables. The first is that Pfetsch can and must give
considerable information on the German states both before and after the founding
of the Bismarckian empire. Not only are published sources readily available, but
the former states, like today's Lander, play an important role in the political
economy of German science. In contrast, for the United States, doing all of the
states in existence 1850-1900 is a formidable research task and one of doubtful
desirability given the ample indications of the modesty of state and local support
relative to federal patronage. Nevertheless, some such support will be appropriately
noted in the discussion, and readers should assume that the U. S. figures are
understated to a slight but not yet determined degree.
46 N. REINGOLD AND J. N. BODANSKY
Relying on official sources means using line items as given in each nation's
respective national accounts. These do not exactly match. Further, we have
encountered many instances where research funding is not differentiated from
general allocations. In the U. S. case a number of instances have yielded, after
further research, to more precise breakdowns. In general, all three national sets of
data are derived from attempts to concentrate on organizations with primary or
clear R & D missions or with an R & D support role. In the U. S. case we have
excluded instances of routine, non-R & D uses of scientific and technical personnel
and made judgments of inclusion based on evidences of scientific sophistication.
For clarity and comparability, data are reported by administrative units even though
many units will engage in diverse work in terms of subject matter. Since further
subdivision is often not possible even with arduous and perhaps dubious estimating
procedures, the present array is a useful first approximation with the virtue of
informing us of what the past was like in its own terms without a spurious precision
deployed anachronistically in the service of today's concepts.
Because of the existence of an extraordinary statistical compilation for the
discipline of physics around 1900,2 for comparability we will similarly report all
expenditures in German marks. Throughout this period there was a great stability
of exchange rates: 4.2M/$1 and 20.6M/£. All values are current without standard-
ization for inflation/deflation nor have we attempted to normalize for comparative
costs of living. For example, the physics data indicates that U. S. figures are
overstated in comparison to Western Europe because of higher costs for salaries,
supplies, and equipment.
Let us consider specific categories in the comparative national accounts. Fully
in keeping with the pride of place accorded in the German rhetoric of the past and
in contemporary historic accounts are the large sums reported for the support of
higher education by the German states. Yet these impressive sums are far from
unequivocal in their meaning. First, the numbers are not limited to research
expenditures and include work in humanistic and social science fields, not only the
physical and biological sciences. They represent essentially the cost for the mainte-
nance of a system of higher education. In contrast, the "Anglo-Saxons'" largely
attempt to restrict the sums to scientific and technical education. It is not simply
the distinction between German "WissenschafT and English "science" but differing
perceptions of the relationship of peaks of achievement to the broader cultural
infrastructure. We suspect that the sciences were subsumed under a broader rubric
like "Kultur" with research and education in "Kultur" being seen as co-extensive.
That conjecture is reinforced by a second, related characteristic of the data. Pfetsch
asserts that the Imperial government did not generally support "zweckfrei" research.
In his analysis what we would designate as pure research is located in this educational
sector; in fact all of those funds are designated "zweckfrei." As we cannot conceive
of that categorization, there is obviously a differing concept here of the relationship
of pure research to application. The two issues raised in connection with higher
education crop up elsewhere in the tables; the British occupy a middle position,
perhaps somewhat closer to the Germans than to their American cousins. Pfetsch
and other Germans of the past do not consider the training of individuals for the
professions as a mission and tend to restrict "zweck" largely to whatever effects
"wirtschaftswachstum."3
Also predictable are the large U. S. investments in knowledge and use of natural
resources (lands, forests, agriculture, fisheries), given the obvious drive to settle and
to exploit a large continental mass. Two qualifications are pertinent. Given the
comparative areas, the German and British sums are hardly disproportionately
THE SCIENCES, 1850-1900 47
small, especially if we remember that the analagous costs for the imperial possessions
of Britain are not in these tables but in the separate governmental accounts of
India, Canada, Australia, Egypt, etc. Given what is known of similar French and
Russian activities, everybody was doing it, not simply the expanding U. S. republic.
If there is a crucial difference, it is qualitative. The Americans were particularly
adroit here in linking scientific research with efficient technological exploitation. To
be more exact, a vast research enterprise arose with a basic research component
supported for its own sake and for a belief in its ultimate utility. The Fish
Commission, associated with the history of MBL, is a modest example.
Notably absent from the U. S. federal figures are sums for academies and
societies. While some state funds went to these bodies, those organizations are
overwhelmingly part of the private sector to this day. European observers and some
American scientists used to regard this as a serious blemish, disregarding that learned
and professional societies were proliferating in the country from 1850 even to this
day. Disregarded also is the obvious point that in most western countries in the
same period the support and conduct of research have increasingly come in the
hands of other kinds of organizations (government bureaus, universities, research
laboratories, industrial concerns, etc.). The particular arrangement in the United
States has had no obvious deleterious effect on the growth of the sciences. What
vexed U. S. scientists from time to time was the sense of a lack of an assured high
status in a national hierarchy.
Both III, Medicine and Health, and VIII, Military, have interesting limitations
to their data and at the same time are unexpectedly informative. For all three
countries, attempts were made to separate out routine hospital and clinical care in
favor of medical research and public health administration. Roughly, a distinction
was made between prevention and treatment. As far as the sources permit, our data
estimates the former. Completely omitted for the U. S., for example, is the hospital
system of the Marine Hospital Service (the forerunner of the U. S. Public Health
Service) and the medical departments of the Army and Navy. By analogy with the
British Local Government Health Board and similar German bodies, we have
included the federally funded District of Columbia Health Department. As no
American state and local entities are reported, U. S. figures understate the support
for this activity. The 1890 and 1900 numbers include a small sum for the Marine
Hospital Services' Hygienic Laboratory, the forerunner of the National Institutes of
Health. We should note here that Pfetsch, like other Germans, classifies medicine
as "zweckfrei," again a categorization we cannot accept.
The military figures probably understate slightly the amount of investment in
weaponry. Only rarely are such sums given separately. We assume that R & D for
warfare, to the extent actually performed in that era, is largely subsumed under the
heading of procurement costs and the like. Much of the U. S. expenditures are for
peaceful (or at least, semi-warlike) purposes. Although similar uses were made of
the military in other countries, the lack of a serious military threat in the last
century coupled with the general sense in the last century of a lack of alternate
institutions and a shortage of skilled personnel resulted in the pattern disclosed
here. When the security environment changed markedly during and after World
War II, it was relatively easy for the defense establishment to assume, openly and
otherwise, a substantial role in the support of the sciences.
Finally, the U. K. support of museums is eye-catching. Even making allowances
for private sector support in the United States, the sums expended are quite high,
quite disproportionate to our subjective sense of the relative merits of contributions
from the three nations. We suspect that the U. K. figures represent, in part, the
48 N. REINGOLD AND J. N. BODANSKY
enduring strength of a wide public interest and participation in natural history in
that country. We hesitate to speculate on how this passion for museums aided or
hindered the growth of support for experimental and quantitative branches of
biology, not to mention geophysics with its quite different approach to the history
of the Earth.
To conclude, we will first look at the United States around the turn of the
century and then offer observations on a number of characteristics common to the
three nations. From Forman, Heilbron, and Weart, we know that in 1900 physics
in the United States received 2,990,000 M, partly from state governments but mostly
from the private sector. To date, we have not succeeded in obtaining any reliable
estimate for research support in general in 1900. Shortly after the turn of the
century, the newly established Carnegie Institution of Washington reported that the
funds specifically earmarked for the support of research totaled $2,952,642, yielding
an annual income of $ 199, 625. 4 But that figure is clearly grossly on the low side,
given both the federal numbers and the data for physics. What CIW reported were
the relatively few endowments solely designated for research or nearly so, omitting
support coming from other, more general bodies of funds. In doing that, the
Carnegie Trustees not only exhibited a desire to increase funding ticketed exclusively
for research but, as we shall shortly note, acted in accordance with a still persisting
national characteristic. Since we know that higher education then and now loomed
large in U. S. science, let us consider that class of institutions. In 1900 more than
4% of the 18-21 age group were enrolled in American colleges and universities, a
high percentage in terms of European norms of that date. The endowments of these
institutions (overwhelmingly private) totaled $166,193,529, yielding an annual
income of $1 1,995,463. To this must be added the considerable sums received for
tuition. Although overwhelmingly devoted to instruction, clearly some fraction of
higher education's resources went into research.5
Obviously, by 1900 the United States of America was engaged in an extensive,
if uneven, effort to expand research and development. Certain peculiarities are
worth noting with the proviso that they are relative, not absolute, differences. First,
the private sector plays a greater role in the U. S., then and now. Second, we infer
from our data and later evidence a persisting desire to give priority to erecting a
supporting infrastructure, rather than simply to target great men, great ideas,
intellectual breakthroughs, or the like. Even so-called "wars" (on cancer) or
mobilizations (for defense or space) were accompanied by a concern for expanding
facilities and the supply of specialized personnel. We conjecture this arose initially
from a sense of deficiency in the national scheme of things and suspect that in
Europe a contrary view prevailed at many points in time based on a degree of
complacency buttressed by an unspoken motive to perpetuate a desired hierarchical
social order.
Third, we are impressed by the relative willingness of the U. S. organizations
and institutions to split out research and other activities from otherwise undiffer-
entiated wholes; witness the contrasting treatment of the German university and
the Carnegie Institution's narrow focus on research endowments. Partly this arises
because Europeans tend to see all these activities as part of a cultural whole, in turn
part of a specific stratified social order. The U. S. tendency, (manifested in such
seemingly narrow technicalities as the wording of Circular A-21 on research costs),
represents a traditional view of a limited role for government requiring, therefore,
a careful, often nit-picking analytic differentiation by function, process, intent,
origin, even ultimate result. This tendency encourages attempts at precise differen-
tiations of "pure," "applied," "development," and other categories. That such
THE SCIENCES, 1850-1900 49
analyses hardly represent the real world of research and development is quite
apparent from the disputes in the United States since World War II over support
of university science, the role of health research, and the nature of research and
development under the auspices of the armed services. It is not accidental that this
is the case; all three — the university, the health sector, and the defense establishment —
are multi-purpose continuums whose individual parts make only partial sense
isolated from the whole.
All three nations display great overall similarity in their patterns of funding,
1850-1900. Even a difference like the absence of U. S. support for academies and
societies is an artifact of data limited to the federal sector. Nor is that surprising as
all three are part of a larger entity — Western Civilization — and one can assume an
overall tendency to emulate, if not to compete with, successful innovations anywhere,
both intellectual and administrative. We are postulating a kind of steady state, a
situation now spread to large portions of the globe. Each major scientific country
and many lesser scientific nations observe changes in other national communities
and very often adjust their national accounts accordingly.
Despite the understandable emphasis in the literature on novelties — conceptual,
factual, and applied — what the data shows in this period (and similarly for later in
this century) is not a grand commitment to the generation of peaks of creativity.
On the contrary, at all times, in so far as we can judge from this and other
admittedly fragmentary evidence, the preponderance of support is for the routine
as judged in retrospect and even as given in the perspective of each historical epoch.
"Routine" as used by us does not necessarily imply lack of sophistication nor are
we equating that term with applied work. What we mean is that the funding is to
continue patterns of activities and behavior already in place which may or may not
be changing in some significant ways, quantitative or qualitative.
Nor is that necessarily bad from the perspective of intellectual advance. The
funding pattern, taken as a whole, reflects two purposes: the maintenance of a
culture of "science" or of "research," and the erection of a supporting infrastructure
of organizations, social processes, and value judgments furthering the maintenance
and growth of that culture. What that indicates to us is that current arguments
about R & D funding in the U. S. are couched in traditional terms selected hopefully
for their power to convince legislators, administrators, and other dispensers of funds.
What is largely absent from such arguments are the real issues: disputes about the
nature of the culture of research and disputes about protecting or expanding
particular pieces of the infrastructure. What is important from the perspective of
intellectual advance as a goal, whatever the specifics at issue, is that now, as in the
years 1850-1900, there is general agreement that intellectual advance is important
for its own sake and for its possible applied consequences.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Grateful acknowledgement is made to the National Endowment for the Human-
ities and the National Historical Publications and Records Commission for their
support in the preparation of both the text and the appendix.
NOTES TO TEXT
1 REINGOLD, N. 1976. "Definitions and speculations: the professionalization of science in America in the
nineteenth century." Pp. 33-69 in The Pursuit of Knowledge in the Early American Republic
. A. Oleson and S. Brown, eds. Baltimore.
50 N. REINGOLD AND J. N. BODANSKY
2FoRMAN, PAUL, JOHN L. HEILBRON, AND SPENCER WEART. 1975. Physics circa 1900: Personnel,
Funding, and Productivity of the Academic Establishment, vol. 5 of Historical Studies in the
Physical Sciences. Princeton.
3 Pfetsch makes a distinction between support for "Imperializing" activities following German unification,
"general" support described as "mainly academic and medical," and economically oriented
research. To North American eyes "zweck" or mission related research occurs under each
category. A notable example of how concentrating on economic results organizes quantitative
data bearing on the sciences is PETER LUNDGREEN, BiUiung und Wirtschaftswachstwn in
Industrialisierungsprozess des 19. Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1973.
4 Carnegie Institution of Washington, Report oj the Executive Committee to Board oj Trustees, Washington,
1902, pp. 247-269.
5 See: REINGOLD, N. 1978. National style in the sciences: the United States case. Pp. 163-173 in Human
Implications oj Scientific Advance, E. G. Forbes, ed. Edinburgh.
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES
A. 1850*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
I. AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
18
115
106
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
18
—
B. Botanical Gardens
—
115
C. Fisheries
—
—
II. GENERAL SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY 1750 163 62
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys) 1247
B. Geology 122 163
C. Meteorology
D. Standards [8]
E. Patents 318
F. Other 63 40
III. MEDICINE AND HEALTH 205 682
IV. ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES 129 252
V. OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES 385
VI. MUSEUMS 84 25
VII. HIGHER EDUCATION 1 40 2507
VIII. MILITARY 732 111 245
A. Army 206
1. Surveys 153
2. Education 53
3. Other
B. Navy 526 111
1. Hydrography
2. Astronomy (including j 405
nautical instruments) 1 1 1
3. Nautical Almanac — —
4. Education
63
5. Other
58
TOTAL
2501 847
4264
All amounts given in 1000's of German marks.
THE SCIENCES. 1850-1900
51
1. COMPARATIVE TABLES
B. 1860*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
I.
AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
201
552
173
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
168
—
B. Botanical Gardens
33
330
C. Fisheries
—
222
II.
GENERAL SCIENCE. TECHNOLOGY
3225
399
143
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys)
2236
—
B. Geology
—
399
—
C. Meteorology
—
—
—
D. Standards
[10]
—
—
E. Patents
967
—
—
F. Other
22
—
143
III.
MEDICINE AND HEALTH
3
124
759
IV.
ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES
—
161
100
V.
OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES
630
674
81
VI.
MUSEUMS
17
641
126
VII.
HIGHER EDUCATION
—
257
3221
VIII
MILITARY
1184
1246
195
A. Army
691
270
195
1. Surveys
611
—
2. Education
74
239
3. Other
6
31
B. Mm-
493
976
1. Hydrography
C
626
2. Astronomy (including
329
nautical instruments)
1
222
3. Nautical Almanac
69
91
4. Education
39
—
5. Other
56
37
TOT A I
5260
4054
4798
* All amounts given in 1000's of German
marks.
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES
C. 1870*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
I.
AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
734
1184
569
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
628
280
B. Botanical Gardens
106
515
C. Fisheries
—
389
II. GENERAL SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY 4642 3435
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys) 2215 2461
33
149
52
N. REINGOLD AND J. N. BODANSKY
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES (Continued)
C. 1870*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
B. Geology
83
700
(
\ n
C. Meteorology
[63]
206
I '-
D. Standards
[18]
33
5
E. Patents
2340
— —
—
F. Other
4
68
132
III.
MEDICINE AND HEALTH
5
439
975
IV.
ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES
—
37
113
V.
OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES
8
126
349
VI.
MUSEUMS
17
1030
230
VII.
HIGHER EDUCATION
—
409
5244
VIII
. MILITARY
1939
1580 744
382
A. Army
1257
402 709
382
1. Surveys
1084
—
2. Education
110
257
3. Other
63
145
B. Navy
682
1178 35
1. Hydrography
173
914
2. Astronomy (including
nautical instruments)
329
193
3. Nautical Almanac
96
50
4. Education
84
—
5. Other
—
21
TOTAL
7345
8240 777
801 1
* All amounts given in 1000's of German
marks.
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES
D. 1880*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
I.
AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
1,560
1,229 460
1,455
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
903
534
B. Botanical Gardens
85
395
C. Fisheries
572
300
II.
GENERAL SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY
5,018
4,384 1,516
679
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys)
2,379
2,853
B. Geology
448
1,008
1 £. A
C. Meteorology
[1,575]
299
\ 164
D. Standards
27
33 100
5
E. Patents
2,118
43 624
—
F. Other
46
148 792
510
III.
MEDICINE AND HEALTH
960
1,597 128
1.318
IV.
ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES
42
281
THE SCIENCES, 1850-1900
53
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES (Continued)
D. 1880*
GERMAN
USA
UK
REICH
STATES
V.
OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES
85
38
—
380
VI.
MUSEUMS
926
3,820
87
326
VII.
HIGHER EDUCATION
10
521
400
14.604
VIII.
MILITARY
3,106
1,777
1,553
—
A. Army
2,176
294
949
—
1. Surveys
416
—
2. Education
122
231
3. Other
1,638
63
B. Navy
930
1,483
604
—
1. Hydrography
251
961
2. Astronomy (including
nautical instruments)
287
274
3. Nautical Almanac
109
67
4. Education
90
175
5. Other
193
6
TOT A I
11,665
13,408
4.144
19,043
* All amounts given in 1000's of German
marks.
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES
E. 1890*
GERMAN
USA
UK
REICH
STATES
I.
AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
8,120
1,269
40
1,455
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
6,718
463
B. Botanical Gardens
96
429
C. Fisheries
1,306
377
II.
GENERAL SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY
9,503
7,164
1,833
1,478
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys)
1,888
4.445
B. Geology
3,220
900
—
1 199
C. Meteorology
[830]
315
—
I
D. Standards
16
87
125
5
E. Patents
3,455
1,205
1.159
—
F. Other
924
212
549
1,274
III.
MEDICINE AND HEALTH
468
1.294
199
2,505
IV.
ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES
—
119
—
304
V.
OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES
43
21
3
1,351
VI.
MUSEUMS
757
2,425
63
815
VII.
HIGHER EDUCATION
21
1,041
400
18,224
VIII
. MILITARY
3,009
1,965
2,294
—
A. Army
1,165
398
1,855
—
1. Surveys
14
—
2. Education
150
93
3. Other
1,001
305
54
N. RKINGOLD AND .1. N. BODANSKY
1. COMPARATIVE TABLETS (Continued)
E. 1890*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
B. Navy
1,844
1,567 439
1. Hydrography
408
564
2. Astronomy (including
nautical instruments)
842
344
3. Nautical Almanac
125
74
4. Education
105
208
5. Other
364
377
TOTAL
21,921
15,298 4,832
26,132
* All amounts given in 1000's of German
marks.
I. COMPARATIVE TABLES
F. 1900*
GERMAN
USA
UK REICH
STATES
I. AGRICULTURE AND FISHERIES
13,375
2,100 528
2.452
A. Agriculture (including
Forestry)
11,072
1 . 1 54
B. Botanical Gardens
109
615
C. Fisheries
2,194
331
II. GENERAL SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY
13.874
7,432 3,629
2,519
A. Geophysics (including
topographic surveys)
2,243
4,342
B. Geology
2,841
829
f ,,A
C. Meteorology
4.157
315 1 3
j 436
D. Standards
44
80 436
8
E. Patents
4,122
1,405 2,484
—
F. Other
467
461 706
2,075
III. MEDICINE AND HEALTH
1,860
1,967 605
2,938
IV. ACADEMIES AND SOCIETIES
—
152
413
V. OTHER SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITIES
2,409
240
3,508
VI. MUSEUMS
935
2,926 100
1,031
VII. HIGHER EDUCATION
5,082
2,073 400
27,839
VIII. MILITARY
2,614
1,978 2,761
A. Army
893
180 2,366
1. Surveys
155
—
2. Education
189
124
3. Other
549
56
B. Navy
1,721
1,798 394
1. Hydrography
602
740
2. Astronomy (including
nautical instruments)
359
459
3. Nautical Almanac
117
82
4. Education
126
154
5. Other
517
363
TOTAL
40,149
18,868 8,023
40,700
* All amounts given in 1000's of German marks.
THE SCIENCES. 1850-1900
55
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2. Naval Observatory
Nautical Instruments36
Other Astronomy37
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5. Meteorology40
n d\
surveys
Torpedo Corps42
Other Ordnance and Steam Engineering Experiments43
Miscellaneous44
* Estimate.
1 The forerunner of the U. S. Department of Agriculture, the Pate
:nce in the Government. In 1862, the work of the division was transfi
2 Unlike its counterpart in the twentieth century, with its heavy emp
Agriculture was primarily a center for the promotion of agricultural s<
luded research in biology, botany, chemistry, zoology and entymology
purchase and distribution of seeds. Because its orientation in this pe
ept that for 1900 the expenses of the Weather Bureau, which though i
3 Though a private botanical garden, under the sponsorship of the
ction, the first direct appropriation for a national Botanical Garden ca
[he Wilkes Expedition on the site of the by then defunct Columbian 1
4 The United States Fish Commission was established by Congress
:arch in icthyology and marine biology.
5 The survey of the coasts of the United States was first authorized
vever. Congress repealed its original authorization, and the Coast Sur
War and Navy Departments. In 1832, Congress reestablished the Coa
partment at the beginning of this century, save for the period 1834-1
Coast and Geodetic Survey in recognition of the geodetic activities wi
IIUI1 IU lla lUJJUgiapiiiv., nyuivjgia^iiiiv., anvj gv.uvjv.iiv. juivv-^ing u(jv.i
:ion, and even a little meteorology, the great preponderance of its
860 — Minnesota boundary, Texas boundary.
870 — California-Oregon boundary, Nebraska boundary. Nebrask;
880 — Colorado-Utah boundary.
900 — Idaho-Montana boundary. Locating the 98th meridian.
850 — U. S.-Mexico boundary, U. S. -British provinces northeastei
860 — U. S.-Mexico boundary.
Jsted in expenditures as "Completing geological surveys of Michi
1|*
r-
oc
.a , o « a
3 C, 5n £CJOJ1J
ctf
<— r- _c X ™
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58
N. REINGOLD AND J. N. BODANSKY
F. V. Hayden, originated in a Congressional
though the survey included work in natural
( 1 ) its mission was primarily geological and
stence in 1879.
ical Survey of the Territories (Hayden) and
and the Geographical Surveys West of the
(King), was also antecedent to the creation
e 9. For King Survey, see footnote 28. For
itures for either 1870 or 1880.
rritories".
nditures for this establishment are therefore
y — Meteorology, but in brackets to indicate
ig to farmers, a new Weather Bureau was
870, some meteorological observations had
1f*tf*r\rr\\r\n\/\ tVia \/fo^,'^il r*r*A CT«^
was under the direction of the Smithsonian
:eorological work was supported from the
n 1873, the meteorological activities of the
line appropriation for this purpose appears
oast Survey expenditures, but which it has
are used to indicate that this is the second
designated the Office of Standard Weights
National Bureau of Standards.
;s of expenditures, in the case of the Patent
or National Museum, for example, where
hie most imposing structures in Washington
jres of the Patent Office by including these
and 1870.
aj
X
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JX
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TABLE II (Continued)
jeographical Survey of the Territories, or Hayden Survey, under the direction of geologist
logical survey of Nebraska, by which label it is still identified in the 1870 expenditures. Al
ly, along with its strictly geological activities, it has been included under Geology because
the U. S. Geological Survey, under which it was subsumed when the latter came into exi
yey was established in 1879 by the merger and expansion of the Geological and Geograph
1 Surveys of the Rocky Mountain Region (Powell), both under the Interior Department,
• the War Department. A fourth survey, the Geological Exploration of the Fortieth Parallel
hough it had actually terminated its work a year earlier. For Hayden Survey, see footnot
. The Powell Survey, which was active from 1874 to 1879 does not appear in the expend
e statistical information concering the gold and silver mines of the western States and Te
n the Territories.
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although for convenience they have also been shown under General Science and Technolog
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Agriculture, and the meteorological work of the Signal Corps transferred to it. Prior to 1
Government deoartments. including the Hvrlrnpranhir Offirp nf thp Naw r«pp Naw \.
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not Congressional appropriations, and thus cannot be counted as Government science. I
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Reference: Bio/ Hull. 168 (suppl.): 62-79. (June, 1985)
LAYING THE GHOST: EMBRYONIC DEVELOPMENT,
IN PLAIN WORDS
PAUL R. GROSS
Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, Massachusetts 02543
—Met him what? he asked.
—Here, she said. What does that mean?
—He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail.
—Metempsychosis?
—Yes. Who's he when he's at home?
—Metempsychosis, he said, frowning. It's Greek: from the Greek. That means
the transmigration of souls.
— O rocks! she said. Tell us in plain words.
— James Joyce, Ulysses. II.
CREATIVE GHOSTS'-
The battle between Preformationism and Epigenesis is more than its recurrent
skirmishes on the field of embryology. It is among the oldest of philosophical battles.
In the seventeenth century, Thomas Hobbes, from whom a materialist, epigeneticist
position might have been expected,3 nevertheless made the pure preformationist
case, in plain words: "Nothing taketh a beginning from itself/' (The epigeneticist
response could have been: "Creation occurs; complexity obviously arises from
simplicity.") On this issue philosophers and scientists have spoken inconsistently
more often than on most others, and great biologists have been no exception.
Epigenetics of the nineteenth century, when the Stazione Zoologica in Naples
was a beacon and the MBL in Woods Hole was gathering strength, did not require
Creation to follow Archbishop Ussher's scenario — the world established by successive
strokes of God a few thousand years earlier. It could be more subtle. Moreover,
questions of meaning and "explanation" were in the air, and there was an
exhilaration with change. Lecturing to the MBL community in 1895 on mind and
matter, A. E. Dolbear said:
. . . the past thirty years shows that in the field of natural history everybody
has changed from a creationist to an evolutionist. But this has been only the
beginning of the change, for if that science was true that made such a change
necessary, it is also true that the same science will make needful other changes
in men's conceptions of what kind of a universe they live in, how it works, and
how they came to be and think as they do; and not unlikely that what we please
to call evolution will have to be explained and restated in very different terms
than those in vogue now.4
So spoke Dolbear of Tufts College, and he could with confidence dismiss all
antecedent theology and metaphysics as irrelevant, specifically to the issue of origins.
But then in the end he, too, foundered on the seeming plain sense of preformation:
you can't get something from nothing. In the end he argued that the universal ether,
at least, must have been created. Having first laid to rest an earlier ghost, he raised
a different one. The battle continues, as it has since then — if not since Aristotle—
with the forms of argument changing as the foci of scientific theory change. By the
nineteenth century, serious fighting about the origins of complexity had fallen to
science, and there it remains. Like all arguments of principle and common sense, it
62
LAYING THE GHOST 63
is fought not just with reason, mathematics, observation, or measurement: but
sometimes with feelings, alliances, power, and politics, with all the trappings of
society and culture, which some contemporary historians insist are the primary
drives of scientific inquiry, rather than a subset of them. I reject the insistence; but
that the trappings are there is undeniable.
Preformationism versus Epigenesis is not merely a diversion for embryologists;
nor for cosmologists. It is difficult for a sober mind to imagine how order might
arise from disorder, long-range structure from randomness. The discoveries of
nineteenth century physics, especially of thermodynamics, put an end to the most
primitive possibility — that organized macroscopic structure may appear spontaneously
in a structureless or truly homogeneous system. In the absence of appropriate work
done from the outside, this does not happen.5 But embryologists of the late
nineteenth century and early twentieth, although many were impressed by the
power of physics, seem not to have been overly concerned with thermodynamics.
And in modern physics the issue becomes clouded again, at least in the sense that
a vacuum is no longer what we had thought it to be: in the quantum universe
material particles can and do arise spontaneously; not from "nothing," but because
it is necessary to re-define "nothing."6
THE MIND IN THE EMBRYO
The search for an explanation of development — that most awe-inspiring of all
processes of the biological world, in which a complex and functional being emerges
from a zygote that is seemingly structureless under the microscope — has included a
long succession of creative ghosts. Those have been the agencies or blueprints by
which the form of the embryo and adult is built. They have changed in character
from the ridiculous — the homunculi of ovists and animalculists in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries — to the sublime — the originally naked and self-replicating
polynucleotide, from which everything else takes its guidance and form. But the
effort to exorcise the ghosts, material or immaterial, continues nevertheless, and not
only from the embryo: from an anthropic cosmos no less than from consciousness
(whose ghost is an entity called "mind").
Toward the turn of the last century, before the Proud Tower of Europe began
to lean,7 but when the strains were already felt and influential in the styles of
scientists, the ghost in the embryo assumed a new and unexpected form. For
obscure and to some extent accidental reasons, the creative ghost became, under
the influence of Haeckel, the old Scala Naturae in a new dress: the embryo retracing
faithfully and by necessity the evolution of its ancestors. The inevitable opposition,
when it arose, did not so much refute the broad claim (although it was refuted in
detail) as bypass it and deem it irrelevant. This reaction began in Europe, notably
with Wilhelm His, but the arguments were heaviest and most influential among
others, at the Stazione Zoologica; curiously so, given the commitment of the
founder, Anton Dohrn, to Haeckel's genealogical apparition. By this time, there
were able young Americans who could commit themselves fully to fundamental
research in biology. Those who later became founders of the Marine Biological
Laboratory in Woods Hole were aware of, and later in the thick of, the Naples
arguments. They did not fail to carry them to Woods Hole. The concentration of
intellect and skills at the MBL led to newer and more powerful arguments; to
important discoveries of observation and experiment; and in the end to laying to
rest the ghost, for at least the interval from then until now.
64 P. R. GROSS
Whether it has been exorcised for good I do not venture to guess; but allow me
my doubts. Mind/Brain dualism remains in good health, even among respectable
psychologists; and as it becomes clear to most biologists that there are not enough
genes to specify all the connections, one by one, among neural elements, let alone
the emergent operating systems of the brain, the ghost may walk again. This too is,
after all, a problem of biological development. In any case, the foundations of
several branches of modern biology were laid in the course of early embryological
arguments at Woods Hole, not the least of those branches being experimental
embryology, general physiology in the new forms that led to what we now identify
as "cell biology" and "biophysics," and modern genetics. It is a tangled story which
needs still-unwritten books in order to be told properly.
HAECKEL'S SYNTHESIS
Ernst Heinrich Haeckel grew up in the conservative atmosphere appropriate to
his father's position as a higher civil servant (Regierungsraf) in the best Prussian
mold. Haeckel was a gifted student and studied under the best teachers: botany
under Schleiden (Jena); anatomy and physiology at Wiirzburg under Kolliker;
pathology under Virchow; and physiology under J. Miiller in Berlin, where he
acquired his devotion to marine research. He published an important work of
comparative morphology, Die Radiolarien, after extensive marine collections at
Messina, and became Professor of Zoology at Jena in 1862, where he remained
until 1909. Afterward he continued writing until his death, at the age of 75,
in 1919.
It was a life full and productive, and enormously influential. The influence upon
embryology was one among many, but the embryological one lasted longer than
did the others. This influence owed much to the particular ingenuity with which
Haeckel made an unique amalgam of the three great but disparate influences on
his own thought: Darwin, Goethe, and Lamarck. How this unlikely Trinity came
to be is in essence simple, but the essence does poor justice to HaeckeFs energy in
applying it to a whole system of thought about life on earth, and in triumphing, by
polemic, over its many detractors.
Haeckel was for a long time a good boy; conscientious, devoted to his parents
and their ideals, such as German unification. Right-thinking came easily to
him. Thus, Nordenskiold, referring to Haeckel's letters written when he was away
from home:8
True, he could cause his parents anxiety on account of his dislike for
medicine and his propensity for unpractical dreaming, but, on the other hand,
he was always ready, with a somewhat rhetorical and precocious eloquence, to
confess his weaknesses to his old parents and to promise to make them happy in
the future. The most striking feature of these letters is their Christian piety,
which contrasts strongly with the hatred that Haeckel felt for Christianity in
later years. . . .
He was for a time an ardent German nationalist, and a passionate denouncer
of Germany's enemies, within and without.9 But he was also an observer. The
enthusiast of twenty-five became a skeptic at thirty-five. A new, imperial Germany
did not broaden the rights of man, nor loosen the bonds of religion allied with
reactionary elements of the state; quite the reverse. Freedom of thought, which is
important to professors, did not increase with material progress and national power:
it was decreased, often brutally so. Haeckel made early the discovery that noble
LAYING THE GHOST 65
thoughts, translated into political reality, do not necessarily pass directly into good
actions. They are just as likely to pass to the reverse.
All the while, his professional work, molded strongly by the standards of
Wiirzburg (where Karl Gegenbaur now held sway), was devoted to the good German
purpose of creating a Weltanschauung, a worldview and an ordered system, through
which living nature, and man within it, might be fully comprehended under a
liberal ideal of progress. The central tool for its construction, as already established
by Gegenbaur and others, would be comparative morphology; the structure, an
objective and self-consistent phylogeny, which would explain what and why the
living world is as it is, and in what directions it would go.
Disappointed in his hopes for reform and progress in the spheres of politics and
general culture, he fashioned a system of thought within his professional discipline
that would substitute; that would, at one and the same time, deny the significance
of princes, politicians, and the priests who supported them in oppression, and hold
out to mankind a vision of harmony and progressive change in the forms and
conditions of life. He found within his experience three guides. The first was
Darwinism, enthusiasm for which, in the form of comparative morphology, he had
already acquired as a student and a correspondent with, and collaborator of,
Gegenbauer.10 It was the evidence of common descent that gave Haeckel the key to
his Weltanschauung. Common descent immediately defies special creation: thus it
defied the establishment; common descent bespeaks flux, change, relatedness among
all things living, and by a very small (and then still allowable) step, it implies
progressiveness. The second guide was Goethe. It was not merely that the poet and
polymath of Weimar had been a natural philosopher, the definer of "morphology,"
but that he had been a champion of evolution before Darwin. He had also, however,
been an honored Minister of State in liberal Weimar. He had rhapsodized change
and gotten away with it. And withal, Goethe had lived to a ripe old age: a survivor,
with authority. This example before him, Haeckel, who insisted upon the importance
of a mechanical basis for his new system, took on in fact Goethe's unmechanical,
romantic idealism, in a form that had already been expunged from the physical
sciences and from physiology."
And finally Lamarck; to whom Haeckel gave credit for having understood the
mechanism of living transformations over time, whereas Darwin he seems to have
credited as more or less the demonstrator of their occurrence. Throughout the
whole ran that strong tendency of the time toward viewing history as the determiner
of events — a tendency in no way limited to biology: a description of how things
had come about was accepted as the explanation of why things are as they are.
HaeckePs greatest work was the Generelle Morphologic, published in 1866, with
its latter and most important part modestly dedicated to Darwin, Goethe, and
Lamarck. For embryology, however, it is not this impressive tome, but the later
Anthropogenic oder Entwicklungsgeschichte des Menschen (1874) that was to be
determining for decades to come. This book had no less a purpose than a complete
description of the biological origins of the human race, as reconstructed from the
facts of paleontology, embryology, and comparative anatomy.
In it Haeckel presents fully-formed what came to be called the "Biogenetic
Law/' i.e., that "ontogeny is a brief and rapid recapitulation of phylogeny." The
general idea was not new: it had been proposed earlier by others, including, notably,
Meckel and Fritz Miiller; but in Haeckel's hands it becomes the motto and the
program for biological research, especially in embryology. The purpose of embryology
is to trace out genealogy — to identify, by means of close observation of embryonic
form, the details of phylogenetic relationships among animals, the history of their
66 P. R. GROSS
descent. The history will be the explanation; for the fact of organic evolution is not
in doubt, and its mechanisms seem close to being known. For this program of
embryological research there was ready to hand a most fortunate tool: the morpho-
genesis of germ layers, whose universal homology seemed to Haeckel perfectly
obvious.
The facts of embryonic development, in short, he saw as the strongest support
of common descent, and at the same time the still unexplored territory by which
its details — hence the detailed history of life — are to be wrested from nature. The
germ layers arise at gastrulation: hence the development of form after that stage of
embryogenesis is to be studied. From such studies are to be reconstructed the
genealogies that will establish not only the tree of life, but also the sap flowing in
it. For twenty-five or thirty years this program was the preoccupation of embryology,
which was in turn perceived as the strong right arm of general morphology, and, of
course, of Darwinism. Haeckel, exorcising the ghost of special creation from
embryonic development, substituted another one: phylogeny as the directing intel-
ligence, phylogeny not merely the result, but the mechanical cause of development.
(Why bother, then, with physiology, or with cleavage, which was a mere subdivision
of the bulky egg into better-deployable, small units?12)
Reaction was not slow in developing, although thirty years were required for it
to affect the work of most biologists. Haeckel gathered round himself a group of
enthusiastic followers, many of whom associated themselves willingly with a political
radicalism they conceived as matching their scientific stance. But not expectedly,
for every accomplished scientist who espoused the radical program entire, there was
an equally distinguished one who, for reasons of his own, opposed it. The first
attacks upon Haeckel had other than purely scientific motives. For example:
Haeckel's system included (naturally) a program for educational reform: this was
attacked by no less a figure than Haeckel's former teacher, Rudolf Virchow, who in
so doing placed himself in the uncharacteristic position of arguing that the teaching
of hypotheses should be banned.
These arguments, emotional as they were, attracted less attention than desired
by their proponents. Militarists and socialists had other fish to fry; and the arguments
of zoologists were in any case incomprehensible to most policy-makers, let alone to
the masses. Haeckel's program for embryological and morphological research
survived such arguments by many years, as it did the other philosophical quarrels
that marked the death-throes of natural philosophy. The destruction of Haeckelian
embryology came from another quarter entirely: that of cytology, with its remarkable
discoveries of cell structure, growth, and division (Strasburger's monumental Zell-
bildimg und Zelltheilung was published in 1874 and became truly influential a
decade later); of fertilization and its early consequences (Fol, 1879); and from the
new experimental, i.e., manipulative and invasive, embryology, championed by
Wilhelm His, by Roux, Boveri, the Hertwigs, and in the end by a whole school of
Naples investigators whose most aggressive — and abrasive — voice was that of Hans
Driesch.
The reaction at Naples is critical to the unfolding story of Haeckel's overthrow
and the rise of modern embryology; but I shall not address it here. It is the subject
of a chapter elsewhere in this volume. Suffice it to say that the Americans were
aware of it and involved in it, and that without such involvement the MBL would
not have come to be what it is. American biology would have been something less.
The MBL story, insofar as it can be represented here, must begin not with outspoken
anti-phylogenesis — for that came later — but with the transitional work of its
remarkable founding Director, Charles Otis Whitman.
LAYING THE GHOST 67
WHITMAN SPURS, AND CONTROLS, THE REVOLUTION IN AMERICA
If Haeckel caused a revolution in embryology, then the mechanist-experimental
wave was its counter-revolution. Whitman helped, despite himself, to bring it about,
by demonstrating the power and value of cell lineage research; and yet he was able
to control the inevitable after-shocks (which included a rejection even of cell lineage)
by the power of persuasion, by the breadth of his mind, and by his skill as a
scientific administrator. It is true that the name "cell lineage" was applied first by
E. B. Wilson to "the study of the cell-by-cell origin of body regions and organs
characteristic of the development of annelids, most mollusks, many Crustacea, the
tunicates. and a few other animals, in which the cleavage of the egg is determinate."13
But Whitman must be counted among the actual inventors of the methodology, the
first to demonstrate its power.
Writing in The Proud Tower of Thomas B. Reed, Republican of Maine and
elected speaker of the U. S. House of Representatives in 1890, Barbara Tuchman
uses words that might apply equally well to the contemporary Whitman:
... in character, intellect and a kind of brutal independence . . . (he) . . .
represented the best that America could put into politics in his time. He was
sprung from a rib of that hard northern corner of New England with the
uncompromising monosyllabic name. . . . The sons of Portland families went
to Bowdoin, not to satisfy social custom, but to gain a serious education.
So too Maine-born Whitman, who studied the classics at Bowdoin, displayed
throughout his life a certain brutal independence, supported by an agile intellect
and an unwillingness to submit to authority unless its sources had survived his own
examination. The United States had neither a landed aristocracy nor an intellectual
one, except for the small cluster of thinkers who survived in the vicinity of Boston.
Those did not exert much influence upon the culture outside a few universities.
The nation was a German liberal's dream come true: abdication of the rich from
politics; government loose, flexible, manipulable — and self-serving; growth in wealth
and power but without the restrictions of landed inheritance and hereditary privilege;
the poor under control. A capitalist's heaven, and one in which as much honor was
given to financial achievers (even if achievement was by dubious means) as was
denied to politicians.
To be sure, not all was peace and tranquility. Healing the Civil War's wounds
was the healing of a large adolescent, growing like a weed, feeling the desires of
adolescence. The inevitable conflict erupted in the Spanish-American war of 1898-
a conflict between those hungry to use their strength to seize external riches, and
those who saw in the emulation of European imperialism the death of the American
social ideal. Leading the former were those two "degenerate sons of Harvard" (as
Harvard's President Eliot named them), Theodore Roosevelt and Senator Lodge,
supported by the popular press; and leading conscience were a few of the Bostonians
(including the same Eliot), a few journalists, and some honest politicans (including
Reed). Conscience lost and Jingoism won. But the Caribbean, and more so the
Pacific islands, were sufficiently remote from the great land between two oceans so
that they had small effect. It was an expanding and confident society, unencumbered
by ancient power-structure and innocent, after Appomattox, of war on its own soil.
Able men of conscience who did politics did it, and were lonely. Able men of
science or the arts did those; and they did not bother much about politics.
Like Thomas Reed, Whitman became a school-teacher upon graduation from
Bowdoin: at age twenty-six he became principal of the Westford Academy in
68 P. R. GROSS
Westford, Massachusetts; and in 1872, at the age of thirty, he joined the faculty of
the English High School in Boston. It was here that his interest turned to natural
history. He attended the two sessions of Louis Agassiz's Anderson School on
Penikese Island in 1873 and 1874. In 1875, having decided to stake his future upon
a career in science, he did what it was necessary to do in order to obtain the best
training: he sailed for Germany with the intention of studying natural history and
earning a doctorate there (in the laboratory of Rudolf Leuckart, at Leipzig). In
1878, a man no longer young to be starting in science, he received the doctorate
and published a dissertation on the embryology of leeches of the genus Clepsine.14
Just as Whitman himself emerged as an unique transitional figure in scientific
thought and administration in America — aware of all that was new, and receptive
to it, but unwilling to sacrifice the values of the old simply for the sake of novelty—
so, too, is this hundred-page memoir of Whitman's transitional. Its length was not
unusual at the time, nor for some time longer: witness the extraordinary length and
detail of monographic papers published by such followers of Whitman as Wilson
and Conklin. Nor is there any direct or obvious rejection of the genealogical
concerns that so characterized contemporary works of embryology or comparative
morphology. It is simply that these concerns are, in Whitman's work, mere
obeisances, by comparison with the extraordinary detail and attention devoted to
the three central sections. These deal, in order, with the cytology of maturation and
of the uncleaved zygote — employing every sophistication of method recently intro-
duced by the cytologists ("die aniline-barber," of whom other embryologists were
scornful); with an exact description of cleavage itself and of the fates of blastomeres;
and finally with the morphogenetic movements of gastrulation and neurulation,
which — despite Whitman's delicacy in not making a great point of it — threw doubt
upon the prevailing notions of germ layer homology.
This paper was not simply a doctoral student's labor in animal morphology,
although that is how, under Leuckart's guidance, the work had begun. It was a
canonical work of morphology, but it was also a beginning of cell lineage research,
which was to become the first of those subdisciplines to be uniquely associated with
Woods Hole. Close observation of the earliest processes of embryogenesis, conducted
with every technical advantage to be gained from contemporary advances in
microscopy, largely free of preoccupation with phylogeny and the intractable issues
of origins, produced evidence of the superficiality of Haeckelian embryology and a
new means for the analysis of emerging form in the embryo. No matter that this
disposal of the phylogenetic ghost would create a substitute one: heredity borne by
substances or particles of the egg. The fight about that would come later.
Whitman returned in due course to the United States, as independent a
personality as he had left it; but he returned with scientific skills and habits of
reasoning that incorporated most of the good, and little of the bad, of German
science. He had begun early, and continued later, exorcism of the wraith that
Haeckel had imposed upon embryology. But in so doing he installed what others
in Woods Hole were to see as equally irrelevant for an explanation: the notion of
"promorphology," or "predetermination" of the egg, in consequence of which the
patterns of maturation and cleavage were irrevocably fixed. Thus fixed, the behavior
of blastomeres would inevitably lead to a reinforcement of the original polarity; to
the acquisition of symmetries more complex than spherical or radial, and to the
programmed emergence of adult form. But the question could then rightly be asked,
as it was: "Whence does the 'promorphology' arise; and why do we need it at all?"
Whitman would reply with cogency and reason, although not sufficient to
convince some of the younger and newly self-confident investigators who came to
LAYING THE GHOST 69
Woods Hole. But his replies were for all that cogent and in advance of their time;
the former Bowdoin scholar, like the rapier-witted Thomas Reed in the Congress,
gave as good as, or better than, he got. In the optimistic, civilized, relatively
unpolitical atmosphere of the MBL (as in the two university departments — Clark
and Chicago — that Whitman ran so autocratically), the Director could and did
encourage alternative views. He could and did enlarge the scope of teaching and
research, even beyond his own abilities, as changes in biology made such enlargement
necessary; and he modified his own views, but without retreating from the first
position that the hereditary constitution of the zygote is the primary source of
information for its early development, and hence for the morphology finally
achieved.
STEMMING THE TIDE
Few were happy with the new ghost: heredity, or species-specific determinants,
residing in the egg and directing its development, replacing a still vaguer sort of
phylogenetic director. In Europe, the entwicklungsmechanik of Roux moved irre-
sistibly toward physical and chemical interference with development as the investi-
gative device, and hence toward the explanation of developmental events in physical
and chemical terms. In America, especially at Woods Hole, there were at first
murmurs and later, when T. H. Morgan joined forces with the German-American
Jacques Loeb, well-spoken criticisms. They identified Whitman's hereditary deter-
miners— and soon those implied by the work of Wilson, Conklin, Lillie, and
others — as a new category of homunculi. To explain development as due to the
action of "plasms" or "idiophores" in the protoplasm was for these critics no better
than to explain it as the outcome of an "idea." For them, it was no explanation
at all.
Whitman fought back, while at the same time encouraging the work of his
opponents. He was no compulsive speaker and publisher, but his lectures and
papers were strong, and his pen could, as Conklin remarked, be dipped in gall.15
Thus, in 1894, six years after the founding of the MBL, he delivered a lecture upon
"Evolution and Epigenesis," which was devoted to a scholarly attack on the gathering
opposition.
. . . The possibility — not to say probability — that the egg is from the
beginning of its existence as an individual cell definitely oriented, has received
but little attention. Many difficult questions are involved which can only be
settled after the most exhaustive analysis of its structure and the most careful
examination of its entire history. It is not enough to catch a fact here and there,
in this or that species; the whole series of phenomena must be studied genetically,
and in as many forms as possible. It often happens that we have to snatch facts
as opportunity brings them within reach, regardless perhaps of their connections;
but so long as they stand isolated, they are unsafe pegs to hang theories upon.
Examples abound on this one question of the orientation of the egg, and the
mention of 'isotropisirf will recall more than one windfall of premature specu-
lations."16
The windfall Whitman referred to was the growing body of evidence, derived
especially from experiments on regulative eggs such as that of the sea urchin, which
led the investigators to propose that the egg must be isotropic — i.e., regionally
homogeneous: and therefore not predetermined. That style of research to which
Whitman referred with favor, i.e., the "most exhaustive analysis of structure," was
of course the style he had himself employed and to some extent pioneered in
embryology. For its execution there came to the MBL a group of exceptional
70 P. R. GROSS
scientific talents, some of them Whitman's own students, others independent. So
"exhaustive" in fact were their productions that they stemmed the tide of experi-
mentalism for a time, and — much more importantly — because the investigators
were young enough to incorporate what was useful in the new experimental
embryology, they became in due course experimenters themselves. At first the work
was unabashed observation, but later most of them became observer-experimenters,
and in the end it was one of them — E. B. Wilson — who provided the commanding
synthesis of observational and experimental embryology. It was he who brought the
revolution against nineteenth century natural philosophy, and the old spirits and
specters, to a triumphant conclusion.17
Wilson, E. G. Conklin, and F. R. Lillie were the leaders of this school — at first
observers and tracers of cell lineage, later experimenters, finally synthesizers. I may
not in this essay examine, as it has been necessary to some extent to do for Haeckel
and Whitman, the personalities and backgrounds of these men, however individual
and fascinatingly different they were. To do so here would soften the focus of the
argument — for it did, indeed, gather focus toward the turn of the century. Suffice it
to say that these were Americans, who shared the personal styles of their American
contemporaries more than they did the styles of the Europeans who came to Naples.
Thus Wilson, an accomplished cellist (whose close friendship with Anton Dohrn
began with their mutual delight in a Schumann string quartet)18 and a profound
scholar, seems not to have been caught up in the politics of culture in the way the
Europeans were. Much less, even, were the other two. Pragmatists, deeply committed
to their work and to the immediate concerns of academic life, they and their
contemporaries created in the short course of ten years a practice of embryology
which was not merely American, but was in fact the vanguard of embryology.
Wilson was the first to carry out a complete cell lineage study at Woods Hole:
this was his splendid work of development of the annelid. Nereis. l9 Conklin's
descriptive work on Crepidula was perhaps even more elegant.20 Though it did not
excite the admiration of his doctoral supervisor, W. K. Brooks, it ranks still among
the defining examples of cell lineage research. Lillie, under Whitman's direction,
carried out a similar study on the lamellibranch, Unio.21 Lillie records Wilson's
remark to him in 1891: "I believe I am going to destroy the germ layer theory of
development!"22
And so he, and the others, did, in the following sense: that, contrary to the
convictions of two decades before, to the effect that the process of cleavage was
indifferent, a mere subdivision of the egg preparatory to germ layer formation, and
the germ layers thereafter strictly homologous species to species; the cleavages were
in fact (at least in the forms they studied), determined as to plane, cell size, and
timing. They showed that the germ layers arise by the early segregation of regionally
different cytoplasms in consequence of the cleavages; and that the resultant germ-
layers are not homologous in the way that was earlier believed.
A decade later, Wilson and Conklin had become experimenters as well as
observers. Wilson published an impressive synthesis of the facts and arguments
derived from both kinds of research in two monograph-length papers, on Dentalium
and Patella2"1 Conklin's comprehensive study of "Organization and cell lineage of
the ascidian egg" was published, with its many exquisitely drawn plates, by the
Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences.24 And by that time they had both taken
full account of the issues — such as capacity for regulation after injury or blastomere
displacement — raised by the experimentalists. The cell lineage chapter became the
initiating chapter of all modern treatments of embryonic development.
LAYING THE GHOST 71
But the later synthesis takes me ahead of my particular story. In the early
1890's, cell lineage was observation; the opposition was devoted, on the other hand,
to experimental interference with the early embryo, under the rationales advanced
originally by Roux and later by Hertwig, Boveri, and Driesch. They had two
complaints: first, that observation alone, however painstaking, could never lead to
explanation, since explanation should account for biological events in terms of
chemistry and physics, not through the naming of unknown and unknowable
"plasms." Second, that their own experiments showed, at least in the eggs they
studied (which were, of course, rarely the same ones as the lineagists studied), that
ordinary processes of early cleavage may to a very large extent be disrupted without
loss of the embryo's capacity to form a normal-appearing larva. The campaign to
exorcise the unknowable from a directive role in embryogenesis was in full career.
Epigenesis was to be established upon a firm basis in the physical sciences, as an
objective account of the egg's responses to environmental stimuli. That this thrust
caused Morgan — who would later lead the emergence of a new science of genetics—
to reject the idea of hereditary determiners of development, does not matter: Mendel
was not yet rediscovered, nor the virtues of Drosophila melanogaster.
EPIGENETICS UNCOMPROMISING: ISOTROPISM
Jacques Loeb was a scientific materialist, a cosmopolitan European educated
amid the cultural tensions that formed the various camps of European science.
Unlike many of his contemporaries in biology, he was solidly trained, not only in
mechanistic physiology (including, of course, the physics and chemistry of the time),
but also in philosophy. Commenting upon Loeb's background, Jeffrey Werdinger
says:25 "Like his teachers, his goal was to analyze and explain organic phenomena
on the basis of physico-chemical laws and principles. Indeed, he came to regard
classical nineteenth century physics as the very model of science properly understood."
Arrived at the Stazione Zoologica in the winter of 1889-90, he began a lifelong
course of research on regeneration, tropisms, and animal behavior, seeking to
explain them all under a simple, but comprehensive set of physical principles. At
Naples he met several of the young Americans who had begun to visit regularly,
and with their urging and assistance, emigrated to America, where he obtained a
teaching post at Bryn Mawr College. Another young biologist was recruited to the
faculty that year (1891): Thomas Hunt Morgan. Whitman, ever on the alert for
new ideas backed up by solid work, was much taken with Loeb, and brought him
eventually to the department at Chicago, where Whitman had gone as Chairman.
Loeb came with Whitman to Woods Hole, there to found the course in General
Physiology that has continued, with high distinction, to be taught ever since.
Except in these matters of origin and prior training, Loeb was not different from
the other young men of his generation at the MBL. He was, perhaps, more
passionate about the broad implications of arguments that were in progress: he had
brought with him, along with the attitudes of the new physical biology, much
positivist, social-progressive freight; and he applied it in his activities, his writings,
and his lectures, exerting considerable influence in American scientific circles (but
not, perhaps, as much as he might have done in Germany). A greater influence
came, however, from the brash simplicity of his experiments, which were at the
same time highly reproducible. Loeb saw no reason why explanations of development
should assign cause to unknown, inherited factors of the cytoplasm or nucleus, or
even worse, deny altogether the value of investigating cause. For him, the program
P. R. GROSS
of embryology, indeed of all biology, was to discover causes — which were certain to
he ordinary, immediate, physical and chemical processes. "Explanation" would
consist in the identification of such processes.
On that basis, his criticisms of observational cell lineage research can be
understood. His experimental accomplishments with embryos were regular and
abundant. It is true that the first popular evidence of non-determinacy in cleavage
(popular in the sense that it was widely discussed) was not Loeb's but that of Hans
Driesch, working at Naples.26 It is true that the capacity of some eggs to "regulate"
development, i.e., to compensate for loss or damage to blastomeres in early cleavage,
was to some extent accepted even by the descriptive morphologists, although they
contrived to believe for a while in its irrelevance. But Loeb, in America, went much
further than Driesch. His was a most radical epigenesis, backed by simple experiments
whose results were very difficult to explain if one believed, with Whitman, that the
egg is always "predetermined, if not predelineated."
Loeb's later work on artificial parthenogenesis, and its implications for the
argument here described, is too well-known to describe again. A single additional
example of his work and the critique implicit in it must suffice, and it is best that
it be from the early 1 890's, the period of our interest. In the Journal of Morphology,
that year, Loeb published a paper as remarkable for its brevity, and the boldness of
its conclusions, as were the papers of the other side for their length and complexity.
The third in a series with the general title, "Investigations in physiological mor-
phology," this one was subtitled, simply, "Experiments on cleavage."27
The experiments described are a series of manipulations of the concentration
and composition of salts in the sea water in which sea urchin (Arbacia) eggs were
fertilized and allowed to develop. With careful observation, the consequences of
these treatments for karyokinesis, cytokinesis, and the pattern of cleavage were
recorded. Loeb made the discovery that nuclear division could take place without
cleavage of the egg cytoplasm. When such undivided, multinucleate embryos were
replaced in normal sea water, they cleaved, not by the normal stepwise process, but
all at once into many cells (as many, Loeb thought, as there were nuclei). These
experiments were very carefully controlled against the possibility of polyspermy,
which was known to cause multipolar division.
Loeb argued:
. . . the segmentation of the nucleus proceeds, although more slowly than
under normal conditions, whilst no segmentation of the protoplasm is possible.
The fact in itself is of some technical value, as it enables us to separate two
processes which nature generally produces together. ... In regard to our
knowledge of segmentation, we see from this that the physiological conditions
for segmentation of the nucleus are very different from the physiological
conditions of the segmentation of the protoplasm. . . . But these experiments
allow us to go one step farther and make clear one element in the complex called
segmentation, namely the physiological cause for the segmentation of the
protoplasm.
There follows a short digression on the water content of cells, the effects of
different ions, and "irritability;" then by a chain of argument appropriate to the
state of knowledge of the time, the conclusion: ". . . The segmentation of the
protoplasm is the effect of a stimulus which the nucleus applies to the protoplasm,
and which makes the protoplasm close around the nucleus."
The implication is not merely that a simple nuclear signal is the cause of
cleavage, but that the form of the resulting blastomere is a direct result of it. It will
be evident that such experiments and conclusions were very remote from the
LAYING THE GHOST 73
observations and conclusions of cell lineage research. They were, in some degree,
offensive to that group of investigators — although never, apparently, taken personally.
It is impossible to do justice by any summary to the gadfly-quality of Loeb's results
in this period. The best that can be done is to say that, save for a few cases of over-
interpretation, his productions did show that there is little fixity ( 1 ) of cleavage
pattern, or (2) of cell size required during very early development for the eventual
production of a normal larva of the sea urchin; moreover, that such rules of cleavage
as could be discerned implied a great capacity of the embryo for repair and
"regulation," provided that the physical and chemical environment were appropriate.
The emerging position, from this body of work and the work of others — Morgan
and Ross Harrison in America, Theordor Boveri, Oskar Hertwig, Hans Driesch in
Europe, was precisely the one that a physicist, comfortable with simplifying
assumptions and absolutely committed to causal analysis, would take: that the egg
(note "the egg," i.e., every egg) is isotropic; regionally homogeneous and undiffer-
entiated; that it is through a series of physical stimuli and responses, the normal
environment acting on a tabula rasa, that all the events of development are initiated
and controlled. This was truly a Radical Epigenetics, originated by Driesch's "egg-
shaking."
In the end, that original egg-shaker, faced with the inconsistencies of his own
radical epigenetics alongside its truths, and with the truth of determinate cleavage
in other eggs than the sea urchin, along with its uncertainties, would opt out of it
and embrace a vitalism more reminiscent of Plato than of Schelling and Goethe.
But Loeb did not. One can find in Loeb's lecture of 1912, delivered to the First
International Congress of Monists at Hamburg, that same dedication to a purely
mechanistic interpretation of life — but with better experimental justification — that
is evident in his 1894 lecture at the MBL "On the limits of divisibility of living
matter,"28 which was an open challenge to the claim of an "organized," anisotropic
egg cytoplasm. The difference between the two lectures is that for the Monists,29
Loeb felt free to express his lifelong ethical convictions, and could add some of the
new knowledge of mutations to them:
Economic, social, and political conditions of ignorance and superstition may
warp and inhibit the inherited instincts and thus create a civilization with a
faulty or low development of ethics. Individual mutants may arise in which one
or the other desirable instinct is lost, just as individual mutants without pigment
may arise in animals; and the offspring of such mutants may, if numerous
enough, lower the ethical status of a community. Not only is the mechanistic
conception of life compatible with ethics; it seems the only conception of life
which can lead to an understanding of the source of ethics.30
Nor did Thomas Hunt Morgan ever abandon physical mechanism and epigenetics.
Indeed, his insistent rejection of predetermination, and of undefined hereditary
elements directing the course of development, was surely one reason for his
continued indifference to genes in development, after the rediscovery of Mendel's
work; even for a time after the chromosome theory of heredity had blossomed so
suddenly at Woods Hole. His entry into genetics, and his transformation of it at
Columbia and in the summers at Woods Hole, had to await a simple and explicit
experimental device by which he could analyse genes and chromosomes at the same
time: the breeding of fruit-flies.
Earlier, Morgan did the same sort of embryological work as Loeb, but he
brought to it stronger morphological and observational equipment (having done his
doctoral research with Brooks at Johns Hopkins). In close contact with Driesch as
P. R. GROSS
well as with Loeb, he complemented the work of those two with egg-shaking
experiments of an unprecedented precision and thoroughness.
Morgan's progress, first as critic of predetermination and cell lineage, later as
synthesizer of data from both sides, is well illustrated by experiments he conducted
over a period of fifteen years at Naples and Woods Hole, employing two different
egg-shaking techniques. The first was egg-shaking pure and simple, a la Driesch,
but enhanced by a refinement of existing methods for obtaining egg fragments and
isolated blastomeres from early embryos. (He shook the eggs with tiny shards of
glass!) The second, following Boveri but again with innovations of technique (e.g.,
in the use of the centrifuge), was analysis of development in embryos in which there
were forced alterations of the cleavage planes. These analyses were carried out with
expert cytologic technique, which made the conclusions much more detailed and
less bold than they would otherwise have been. Cytologic detail then, like the best
ultrastructural work today, makes the experienced observer cautious. But Morgan's
conclusions stand far better, in the light of subsequent discovery, than do many of
Loeb's, and better than any of Driesch's.
The following example will serve. Loeb had reported, in the summer of 1894, a
series of startling experiments on "extra-ovates,"31 masses of egg-substance extruded
in the course of a brief osmotic shock caused by immersing the fertilized eggs in
distilled water. (It is important to note here that, however troubled this work might
have been by over-interpretation, it anticipated by many years the ligation experiments
on amphibian eggs which brought Hans Spemann so much fame, and, in part, his
Nobel Prize.) Loeb observed that Driesch, in shaking apart early sea urchin embryos,
was able to obtain normal development from any of the first four blastomeres, but
never from blastomeres of the eight cell stage or beyond. This was not, Loeb argued,
the best test of the minimum size of a mass of "protoplasm" capable of developing
into a whole larva. A better one would be somehow to divide the uncleaved egg
into very small pieces, and to determine what kind of development those might be
capable of.
The experiments were done by causing osmotic swelling of fertilized eggs in
mass culture, producing small, spherical extrusions through the fertilization mem-
brane; returning the culture to normal sea water, allowing it to develop, and then
determining what minimum size of extruded (or original, i.e., still within the
fertilization membrane) fragment could form a pluteus. The conclusion was that a
nucleated volume of material as little as one-eighth that of the whole egg could
produce a pluteus larva. Moreover it did not seem to matter which part of the egg
it was: Loeb thought that any part would do. Hence the egg is isotropic, and the
limitation upon full differentiation is quantitative, not qualitative as the argument
from cell lineage research on other species required.
There were, or should have been, quantitative questions about this work, the
most obvious of which arises from the fact that Loeb had no way of deciding what
fraction of all possible egg fragments behaved in this way, and could not therefore
be certain that any part of an egg, one-eighth the original volume, would do. Nor
did he provide the detailed cytological information that one would demand in order
to be convinced that the eighth-volume objects were indeed "plutei," rather than
asymmetric, multicellular masses. Nevertheless this work, coming after Driesch's
(whose conclusions were similar), was a shock for those who thought they had
reason to believe that the egg is not only polar, but regionally differentiated, with
the parts of the larva laid down, before cleavage begins.
Morgan took up this line of work, but carried it out with even greater care than
Loeb had done. His measurements were rigidly quantitative and they were supported
LAYING THE GHOST 75
by thorough microscopical work on the fixed and stained products of the experiments.
In 1895 he published the results of studies done at Naples, on "partial" larvae of
the sea urchin Sphaerechinus.31 Introducing them, he wrote:
Up to the present time however some important questions in regard to these
("partial") larvae remain unanswered. For instance, we do not yet know the
smallest size possible for the larvae, or whether this size varies according to the
means first employed to get the fragment. We do not know whether the small
larvae produce the same number of cells as do the normal, or whether they can
assume the definitive form with fewer cells. The number of karyokinetic divisions
that take place, and the resulting sizes of nuclei and cells are also unknown.
All these unknowns he undertook to make known, and to a large extent
succeeded in doing so, although the central objection we would now apply to Loeb's
work applied here as well — that there was no proof that any small piece whatsoever
of an egg can give rise to a complete larva. That test had to wait until the brilliant
microsurgical work of Horstadius was done, forty years later; and its outcome was
the both Loeb and Morgan were wrong.
Nevertheless: Morgan's very careful study confirmed the main observations, if
not the broadest conclusions, of his predecessors, and added more to shock the
predeterminists. He minced no words in the conclusion to this very complete paper:
The conclusion is forced upon us — and I see no escape from it — that the
formation of the embryo is not controlled by the form of cleavage. The plastic
forces heed no cell boundaries but mould the germ-mass regardless of the way it
is cut up into cells. That the forms assumed by the embryo in successive stages
are not dependent on cell-division may be demonstrated in almost any egg.
Whitman's conclusions receive I think strong support from the results of the
experiments recorded in the preceding pages.
"Whitman's conclusions" are those offered in an earlier lecture at Woods Hole
("On the inadequacy of the cell theory"). And how Whitman must have simmered,
to discover his thoughts on the matter, oflfered originally in a different context and
in aid of quite different conclusions, here quoted in support of radical epigenesis!
It is instructive to follow Morgan's continued work on this problem, especially
as described in papers published six and fifteen years later. The radicalism disappears
as the breadth and incisiveness of the experiments increases. Thus the conclusion
of the 1901 paper is already much softer: the reality of determinate cleavage is at
least recognized, and the extent to which fragments of regulative eggs may develop
is no longer overstated:32
We see then that even in cases with a perfectly definite type of cleavage that
give rise to embryos having definite relations to this cleavage there is no absolutely
necessary relation between the two, for if the conditions are changed the relation
may also be altered or at least parts of the egg may invaginate that do not do so
under ordinary circumstances. Nevertheless the pre-existing protoplasmic relations
in the segmenting egg appear to have an important influence on the formation of
the normal embryo . . . [my emphasis].
The last paper of this group, published in 1910,33 is a sophisticated analysis
whose important conclusion, for our purpose here, is implicit in its title: "The
effects of altering the position of the cleavage planes in eggs with precocious
specification." The recognition is now an open one; that some degree of specification
exists in all uncleaved eggs; in effect, a high degree — "precocious specification" —in
mosaic development, and a low one in regulative. As well the development of eggs
76 P. R. GROSS
such as that of the sea urchin might have been characterized as showing "low-but-
not-zero" specification. Morgan's progress was the conversion of a radical epigenesis
to epigenesis without isotropy; while the later research of Wilson and Conklin was
a conversion of rigid predeterminism to a relative determinacy of cleavage, with
recognition of the capacity for regulation and the importance of cell-cell interactions
in guiding the course of embryo-formation, even in mosaic forms.
With the MBL's first decade behind it, its scope of scientific interests already
greatly broadened and America still innocent of the drumbeat for war reverberating
throughout Europe, these embryologists could look with satisfaction on their
accomplishments, although few were yet of an age to look backward, and none
rested on their laurels. In a nation that had so recently been a biological, if not
wholly a scientific backwater, there were now not one or two, but a growing number
of research universities, with departments whose biological faculties matched and,
in some cases, surpassed their equivalents in the ancient institutions of Europe.
Here was the MBL, where every summer there gathered a group of biologists who,
because of the war in Europe and its attendant dislocations, surpassed in productivity
and would soon surpass in influence the group that gathered at Naples. The MBL
offered, moreover, advanced instruction for research students, under the guidance
of that group, and hence under a teaching faculty that could nowhere be matched.
This insured that the enterprise of fundamental research in biology would not
merely survive in the U.S.A., but that by the law of compound interest (the mean
number of trainees per trainer being greater than one) it would grow exponentially
in the future.
Most important, embryology, jewel in the crown of evolution a decade earlier,
had been made over into something else, something more important. Wilson had
been right: cell lineage toppled the germ layer theory of development, and with it
had fallen the Haeckelian paradigm of embryological research. The embryo and its
doings came to center-stage in their own right, as a biological subject worthy of the
most intense study because its secrets were clearly at the heart of multicellular life.
Recapitulation was an irrelevancy: the stages of vertebrate embryogenesis (only)
showed resemblances, and only resemblances, among genera, orders, and classes;
but certainly not as between embryos of one and adults of an other. And the
reasons for such resemblance had lost all value as explanation of development.
Explanations would have to be sought within the cell and even within the molecules
of the cell. The genealogical ghost had been driven out.
In the effort to rout remaining ghosts, the radical epigeneticists had attempted
to find explanations for development solely in the physics and chemistry of
"protoplasm," and in the stimuli and responses of the surrounding medium and
the zygote, respectively. They failed, by and large, to convince. The response to
them might well have been the reasonable one that, since the eggs of two different
species, developing side-by-side in the same culture dish, produce two quite different
embryos, and by two different patterns of cleavage and morphogenetic movement,
there must be hereditary determinants of some kind directing development. And of
course it would soon become apparent that genes on chromosomes were the likeliest
although not the only candidates. For the radical epigeneticists, not yet quite
reconciled, this argument retained a smell of preformationism, but it was at least a
preformationism of matter, not of spirit. In some sense it was a return to the
eighteenth century, and yet means by which the chemistry and physics of the
postulated determinants might be investigated were already coming into being —
hence Loeb's increasing concern with turning "colloid chemistry" and the "proto-
plasm" concept into a proper physical chemistry of proteins. That concern would
LAYING THE GHOST
spawn, among Loeb"s students and descendants, an important part of modern
protein chemistry and enzymology.
Morgan, a hard-headed experimentalist and logician to the last, would continue
a little too long to shave with Occam's Razor (hence, perhaps, his somewhat untidy
beard); but his energy and powerful intelligence would turn him at the last — the
genetics and cytogenetics of Drosophila having shown what it could reveal — to
attempt a synthesis of genetic predetermination and epigenetic biochemistry. He
did not solve the problem, but he was able to state it, and thereby to summarize
outcomes of those exorcisms I have touched upon here, as a part of his Nobel
address of 1934:34
... it is conceivable that different batteries of genes come into action one
after the other, as the embryo passes through the stages of its development. This
sequence might be assumed to be an automatic property of the chain of genes.
Such an assumption would, without proof, beg the whole question of embryonic
development, and could not be regarded as a satisfactory solution.
But it might be that in different regions of the egg there is a reaction between
the kind of protoplasm present in those regions and in specific genes in the
nuclei; certain being affected in one region of the egg, other genes in other
regions. Such a view might give also a purely formal hypothesis to account for
the differentiation of the cells in the embryo. The initial steps would be given in
the regional constitution of the egg.
The first responsive output of the genes would then be supposed to affect the
protoplasm of the cells in which they lie. The changed protoplasm would now
act reciprocally on the genes, bringing into activity additional or other batteries
of genes. If true, this would give a pleasing picture of the developmental process.
EXODOS
Realization of the broad possibilities offered by Morgan in that lecture was not
to be until, I should judge, the early 1970's. A small volume devoted to the question
of gene action and the control of embryogenesis — not the first and not necessarily
the most complete of several near-contemporary volumes — was published by Max
Hamburgh in 197 1.35 I recommend it, for its brevity, to the non-embryologist reader
who would gain an impression of what had been done in the intervening forty years
about "Theories of Differentiation." To summarize the book, which is itself a
summary: a productive science of developmental genetics, imagined only dimly by
Morgan, emerged, and while its main achievements were at first in identifying genes
involved in later morphogenesis of various animals, it left little doubt that morpho-
genesis is under the direct control of genes. All the new insights into pathways and
mechanisms of intermediary metabolism had been applied to embryos, and the
energetics of development had come in a general way to be understood.
Curiously, it was through biochemistry rather than formal genetics, that the first
coordinated attacks upon genetic control of early development, hence of determi-
nation, were mounted. Protein synthesis, now understood to be the second major
step in gene action (transcription being the first), was shown to be continuous and
necessary throughout development and from the very start: hence there were no
"silent" periods for genetic control of development. And a large part of that
synthesis was shown to be under control of genetic messengers prepared earlier-
during oogenesis; thus providing an explanation for the apparent independence of
some steps in pre-gastrula development from the zygotic genome, and an important
set of candidates — now in definable chemical form — for those morphogenetic
determinants upon whose existence the lineagists had staked their reputations.36 3
78 P. R. GROSS
How appropriate it is that advanced embryological research should again be
preoccupied, today, with cell lineage; of systems in which the differential distribution
of specific and identified gene products can be traced, and in which the mechanisms
by which those genes are activated or repressed differentially can be studied! I know
no better general reference for the state of these issues at the time I write this — and
for the embryo's ghostly intelligence, if any — than the volume of lectures given in
the MBL's embryology course the summer of 1983,38 ninety years after its first
offering in a small wooden building at Woods Hole.
NOTES AND REFERENCES
1 I am much in debt to the following for insights into the work and personalities of founders of the MBL:
Garland Allen, for his Life Science in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge University Press.
1978), for several important papers on T. H. Morgan, and for his biography Thomas Hunt
Morgan: The Man and his Science (Princeton University Press, 1978); Jane Maienschein, for
her paper on Cell Lineage, Ancestral Reminiscence, and the Biogenetic Law (J. Hist. Biol. II:
129-158, 1978) and for lectures delivered in 1984 at the MBL and at the Ischia meeting; and
Jeffrey Werdinger, whose doctoral dissertation Embryology at Woods Hole: The Emergence of a
New American Biology (1980), is available from University Microfilms, Ann Arbor, Michigan.
A recent work of European history in the period of interest has been helpful: Norman Stone,
Europe Transformed: 1878-1919 (Harvard University Press, 1984). The first edition of Eric
Davidson's Gene Activity in Early Development (Academic Press, New York, 1968) is a valuable
source for cell lineage research in relation to experimental embryology.
2 "Ghost" is no hyperbole. The common definition — the disembodied soul of a dead person — is only the
second. The first, (e.g., in Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, 1981) is "The seat of life or
intelligence." That one, applied to the entities imagined by natural philosophers to direct
embryonic development, fits well. At worst, it is a metonymy.
3 RUSSELL, BERTRAND. 1945. A History of Western Philosophy, fourteenth printing. Simon and Schuster,
New York. Pp. 546 if. The particular plain words between quotation marks were chosen for use
in an editorial introduction to a series of papers on "The Mind," in The Wilson Quarterly 8(5):
47 (1984).
4 Amos Emerson Dolbear (1837-1910); physicist and inventor. Professor of Physics at Tufts College. The
quoted passage is from the sixth of the MBL's Biological Lectures of 1895, but the reluctant
conclusion that creation of the ether must have taken place is reached in the fifth. See Biological
Lectures. Ginn & Company, Boston, 1896, pp. 63-82; 83-99.
5 Sadi Carnot laid the foundation for the First Law in 1 824. The grand structure was completed by
William Thomson, later Lord Kelvin, 24 years later. The Second Law, which identifies the
restricting principle in processes whose forms of energy include heat, was established by Clausius
and Lord Kelvin in the 1850's. The next half-century saw the rise of a statistical, kinetic theory
of matter, and a probabilistic definition of entropy. Toward the end of that time, a thoughtful
physicist would have judged the appearance of form in a formless macroscopic object, without
appropriate external work done on it, to be about as probable as the spontaneous boiling of
water in a kettle held in a deep-freeze. See R. A. MILLIKAN, D. ROLLER, AND E. C. WILSON.
1937. Mechanics, Molecular Physics, Heat & Sound. Ginn & Co. (M.I.T. Press edition, 1965).
6 Virtual particles in a quantum vacuum are individually undetectable, but they exist because their
macroscopic consequences, such as the Casimir effect, exist. Moreover, if the "Big Bang" took
place in an interval like the Planck time, 10 41 s, that might be considered an event of creation
(were not there a "creationism" with which I reject the remotest connection). See JOHN D.
BARROW AND JOSEPH SILK. 1983. The Left Hand of Creation. Basic Books, Inc., New York,
for a modern cosmologist's view.
7 The reference is to BARBARA W. TUCHMAN. 1966. The Proud Tower. Macmillan, New York.
8 NORDENSKIOLD, ERIK. 1928. The History of Biology. Translated from the Swedish by L. E. Eyre, Tudor
Publishing Co., New York.
9 Some dates: Bismarck's "blood and iron" statement was made in 1848; three wars followed in the
unification of Germany under Prussian hegemony. The last, the Franco-Prussian war, ended in
disaster for France. With the loss of Alsace-Lorraine, the humiliating capture of Napoleon III,
and the indemnity of a billion dollars France was forced to pay, there were planted the seeds of
the Great War of 1914. The German Empire under Wilhelm I was proclaimed formally on
January 18, 1871, at Versailles.
10 Although Haeckel and Gegenbaur were collaborators, and Haeckel and Anton Dohrn united for a time
in friendship and in their views, Gegenbaur and Dohrn were mortal enemies. The former,
especially, never lost an opportunity to malign the latter.
LAYING THE GHOST 79
" NORDENSKIOLD, E. Op. cit., for Haeckel's antecedents; but see, for a devastating judgment of Goethe
as scientist, the essay of SIR CHARLES SHERRINGTON. 1949. Goethe on Nature and on Science.
2nd ed. Cambridge University Press.
12 See, inter alia, J. WERDINGER, Op. cit., and STEPHEN JAY GOULD. 1977. Ontogeny and Phytogeny.
Belknap Press of Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
13 LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory, University of Chicago Press. P.
123.
14 WHITMAN, C. O. 1878. The embryology of Clepsine. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 18: 215-314.
15 LILLIE, F. R. 1944. Op. cit. P. 160.
16 WHITMAN, C. O. 1895. Evolution and epigenesis. In Biological Lectures. Ginn & Co., Boston.
17 WILSON, E. B. The Cell in Development and Heredity, Macmillan, New York, edition of 1925.
18GROEBEN, C. AND I. MiJLLER. 1975. Exhibition Catalogue: The Naples Station at the Time of Anton
Dohrn. Pp. 89-90. The quartet was the A major, composed by Schumann in 1842. Elsewhere
in this volume is reproduced a letter from Wilson to Dohrn (7 June 1899), signed with a cello
device and quoting the cello line, starting at the 12th measure, of Beethoven's C-sharp minor
string quartet. Op. 131.
w WILSON, E. B. 1892. The cell-lineage of Neresis: a contribution to the cytogeny of the annelid body. /.
Morphol. 6: 361-480.
2(ICONKLIN, E. G. 1897. The embryology of Crepidnla. J. Morphol. 13: 1-226.
21 LILLIE, F. R. 1895. The embryology of Unionidae. J. Morphol. 10: 1-100.
!2 LILLIE, F. R. 1944. Op. cit. P. 124.
21 WILSON, E. B. 1904. Experimental studies on germinal localization. I. The germ-regions of the egg of
Dentalium. AND //. Experiments on the cleavage-mosaic in Patella and Dentalium. J. Exp.
Zool. 1: 1-72; 197-268.
24CONKLIN, E. G. 1905. Organization and cell-lineage of the ascidian egg. / Acad. Natl. Sci. Philadelphia
13: 1-119.
15 WERDINGER, J. Op. cit. P. 266.
26 "Every historian is aware that the 'revolutionary moment' is rather apt to be the time in which certain
previously known ideas, or theories, or doctrines receive a new turn that brings them forcibly
to the minds of everyone, or are given a sudden incisiveness by new experiments . . . made in
so striking a way that no one can escape considering them."
This passage is from I. Bernard Cohen, in his Introduction to Margaret G. Foley's translation
of Galvani's De Mribus Electricitatis . . ., issued by the Burndy Library, Norwalk, Connecticut
(1953).
27 LOEB, JACQUES. 1892. Investigations in physiological morphology. III. Experiments on cleavage. J.
Morphol. 7: 253-263.
28 LOEB, JACQUES. 1895. On the limits of divisibility of living matter. Pp. 55-65 in Biological Lectures.
Ginn & Co., Boston.
29 Monism can be traced back at least to Parmenides. It is the doctrine that all manifestations of the
world are properties of a single, material unity. The Greek atomists were monists: so was
Spinoza. Curiously, Haeckel was a monist. Ernst Mach (1838-1916), physicist-turned-philosopher,
was the leading nineteenth century exponent. He was also a vitalist (though he would have
denied it). Loeb's affinities for a doctrine that holds all phenomena, perception as well as external
action, to be manifestations of an underlying material reality, can readily be understood.
30 LOEB, JACQUES. 1912 (January). The mechanistic conception of life. Pp. 5-21 in Pop. Sci. Monthly.
31 See ref. 28 for Loeb, and for Morgan: T. H. MORGAN. 1895. The 'partial' larvae of Sphaer echinus.
Archiv. f. Entwicklungsmech. 2: 81-126.
32 MORGAN, T. H. 1901. The proportionate development of partial embryos. Archiv. f. Entwicklungsmech.
13:416-635.
33 MORGAN, T. H. 1910. The effects of altering the position of the cleavage planes in eggs with precocious
specification. Archiv. f. Entwicklungsmech. 29: 205-224.
34 This speech was published in Scientific Monthly, 41: 5-18 (1935). Reproduced here is the quotation
from: IAN SHINE AND SYLVIA WROBEL. 1976. Thomas Hunt Morgan: Pioneer of Genetics. The
University Press of Kentucky, Lexington.
35 HAMBURGH, MAX. 1971. Theories of Differentiation. American Elsevier Pub. Co., New York.
36 GROSS, P. R. 1968. Biochemistry of differentiation. Ann. Rev. Biochem. 37: 631-660.
37 See also two other reviews, published fifteen years apart: P. R. GROSS. 1967. Curr. Top. Dev. Biol. 2:
1-46; and E. H. DAVIDSON et al. 1982. Science 217: 17-26.
38JEFFERY, W. R. AND R. A. RAFF, eds. 1983. Time, Space, and Pattern in Embryonic Development.
MBL Lectures in Biology, Vol. 2. Alan R. Liss, Inc.. New York.
Addenda to "Laying the ghost: embryonic development, in plain words," by Paul R. Gross.
PLATE I. Top: Old Main, the MBL's first teaching and research laboratory, on the site of which the
Loeb Laboratory stands today. Photograph made by Baldwin Coolidge in 1893. Bottom: the first
Embryology class, 1893. Coolidge photograph. C. O. Whitman at center, standing. F. R. Lillie at his far
right. The four women students, left to right, are: S. Emma Keith; Elizabeth E. Bickford; Bertha M.
Brown; Marie L. Minor. The blackboard inscription is "Isotropism." Others of the class are identified
opposite page 91 in Lillie. 1944 (13). This and all other photographs courtesy of the Archives, MBL
Library.
PLATE II. Top left: C. O. Whitman, 1908. Photograph by R. M. Strong. Top right: E. B. Wilson.
Origin of photograph unknown. Bottom left: E. G. Conklin, 1922. Bottom right: F. R. Lillie, 1921.
Photos of Conklin and Lillie, and of Loeb in Plate III, were taken by the legendary "Wireless Pete" of
Woods Hole.
PLATE III. Left: Jacques Loeb in 1922. Right: Thomas Hunt Morgan at age 25, 1891. From the
Johns Hopkins University Yearbook.
Reference: Biol. Hull. 168 (suppl.): 80-87. (June, 1985)
CELL INTERACTIONS: THE ROOTS OF A CENTURY OF RESEARCH
JAMES D. EBERT
Carnegie Institution oj Washington, 1530 P Street, N. W., Washington. DC 20005
ABSTRACT
Only rarely have marine organisms provided experimental systems par excellence
for concerted and continuing analyses of mechanisms of cell interactions, in either
of the two main categories I consider: inductive and morphogenetic. Although there
were significant findings with marine organisms from the beginning, they were
frequently overshadowed, possibly because the seasonal character of research on
marine organisms resulted in a focus on experiments that did not require continuity,
and on comparative, rather than on mechanistic, analyses.
The roots of the study of inductive interactions — contemporary with the
establishment of the Marine Biological Laboratory (MBL) — are found in the work
of Chabry and Roux on the development of isolated blastomeres of an ascidian and
a frog, respectively, after destruction of neighboring blastomeres. Roux's findings
had a larger impact than Chabry's, in part because Roux cast his findings in larger
terms than did Chabry, but also because of the differences in experimental
approaches that emerged. The fact that the blastomeres of many marine embryos
could be dissociated readily, lead to repeated comparative studies of the capacity
for development of isolated blastomeres. The use of amphibian systems produced a
drive to understand the failure of independent development; and the use of
transplantation techniques resulted in the discovery of the "organizer," that set in
train fifteen years of intensive and largely fruitless research on its chemical nature,
punctuated by Lester Earth's demonstration of "neural differentiation without
organizer."
The impact of studies of marine forms on the emergence of today's ideas on
morphogenetic interactions — cell adhesion molecules, etc. — is less clear. The con-
tributions of Herbst in dissociating embryos in calcium-free sea water, and of H. V.
Wilson, and later Galtsoff, in re-aggregating sponge cells had no significant effect
until after Holtfreter's far reaching studies of "tissue affinity."
INTRODUCTION
When I entered the Johns Hopkins University as a graduate student in 1946,
destined to work with Professor B. H. Willier, the field of embryology, as it was
then called (for the phrase "developmental biology" did not become popular until
the early 1950s), was in the doldrums. There were, to be sure, a few active
laboratories, with extraordinary leaders; in addition to Willier, Paul Weiss, then at
Chicago, Viktor Hamburger, at Washington University, Johannes Holtfreter, at
Rochester, and Victor Twitty at Stanford, come to mind. With such luminaries
working in the United States, and at least an equal number in Europe — Horstadius
and Runnstrom; Brachet, Dalcq and Pasteels; Woerdemann and ten Cate; and
Waddington and Abercrombie, why do I say the field was in the doldrums? My
answer is this: each of the leading centers had its own special interests, its own
special preserve. Each was tackling important problems, with the technology of the
day. Still, there was no major thrust, no "true imperative" in the field. With the
80
EARLY STUDIES OF CELL INTERACTIONS 81
exception of Hamburger and Willier in the United States, and Brachet and
Waddington in Europe, most of the leaders in the field paid little attention to
genetics. The embryology textbooks of the day commonly contained, at most, a
single chapter on developmental genetics, despite the contributions of Dunn,
Landauer, Wright, Hadorn, and others. (Willier el ai. 1955, reflects the state of the
field after World War II).
The seeds of change, that would lead to a spirited renaissance of the field, had
been sown in the 1930s and 1940s, by Ephrussi and Beadle, by Beadle and Tatum,
by Caspersson, and by Brachet, to name only a few of the pioneers who pointed
the way to the intellectual wedding of developmental biology and genetics. But they
had only begun to influence the field.
Less heralded at the time were the strides taken by Holtfreter, and later by
Moscona and Abercrombie, in analyzing what Holtfreter called "tissue affinity,"
studies that were the forerunners of today's widespread interest in "cell adhesion
molecules." I shall return to these studies later under the (over simplified) heading
"Cell Surface Interactions in Morphogenesis."
Let me return to the embryology of the 1940s. I observed that the field lacked
a primary focus. It had not always been so. In fact, for nearly two decades, attention
was focused, more in Europe than in the United States, but to a considerable degree
throughout the world, on what came to be called "inductive cell interactions." Cell-
cell interaction is a necessary condition for the formation of the cellular architecture
of organs as well as for their organization and interconnection. The first demonstration
of embryonic induction, by Spemann (190 la, 1907) and W. H. Lewis (1904, 1907a,
b) provides the classic example. During normal development the optic vesicle grows
out to contact the epidermis. A short time later the vesicle invaginates to form the
optic cup; at the same time the epidermis at the point of contact thickens and sinks
beneath the surface, following the retinal surface of the cup. Becoming detached
from the epidermis, this group of cells rounds up and differentiates to form the
lens, generally as a consequence of the influence of (or induction by) the optic
vesicle.
The nature of induction was then, and remains today, a fascinating problem. In
the 1940s however embryologists were groping — there is no better word — for a new
approach, following the failure of then existing techniques to solve a problem whose
solution had seemed, for a time, to be within their grasp.
Let us return to the roots of the problem.
INDUCTIVE CELL INTERACTIONS
The roots of the study of inductive interactions — contemporary with the
establishment of the Marine Biological Laboratory — are found in the work of
Chabry (1887; see Morgan, 1927), and Roux (1888) on the development of isolated
blastomeres of an ascidian and a frog, respectively, after destruction of neighboring
blastomeres. Roux's findings had a larger impact than Chabry's, in part because
Roux cast his findings in larger terms than did Chabry. The questions addressed in
these works are the following: Is the differentiation of a given blastomere a function
of its position in the whole, i.e., is it dependent upon contact or influences of
neighboring cells, or is its development an act of "self-differentiation," which implies
that, at a definite moment, it contains all the specific conditions for further
differentiation? Isolation and defect experiments were widely used in analyzing this
problem.
The blastomeres of the developing frog's egg are so closely united that their
complete isolation is difficult. At the 2-cell or 4-cell stage of Rana esculenta, Roux
J. D. EBERT
pricked one blastomere with a heated needle in order to exclude it from further
development. This method is far less satisfactory than complete isolation because it
is difficult to determine the extent of injury to the pricked blastomere and the effect
of the punctured blastomere on the surviving blastomere. However, the following
results were obtained: ( 1 ) by pricking one blastomere at the 2-cell stage, either a
lateral or an anterior hemi-embryo was produced, depending on the direction of
the first cleavage plane; and (2) by pricking one blastomere at the 4-cell stage,
"three-quarter" embryos were produced. From these results Roux concluded that
from the 4-cell stage, development is a mosaic of four essentially "self-differentiating"
pieces.
In many cases the half-embryo restored the missing half. According to Roux
this process, which he called "post-generation," was accomplished by utilization
("organization") of the protoplasm of the punctured blastomere by the half-embryo.
It appears more likely, however, that the hot needle merely retarded development,
and did not exclude the punctured blastomere from further development.
It was shortly thereafter that Driesch presented his now famous studies of the
production of whole embryos from isolated blastomeres of the sea urchin. This
separation was accomplished by shaking fertilized eggs in artificial sea water from
which calcium had been removed, following the method of Herbst.
These contrasting observations of Roux and Driesch had far reaching conse-
quences. Indeed, from them emerged two separate trails of research, each with its
own philosophy. In his book Experimental Embryology, Morgan (1927) devoted
five successive chapters to comparative studies of the capacity for development of
isolated blastomeres, and the fate of cells and their location — the study of cell
lineage. The fact that the blastomeres of many marine embryos could be dissociated
readily led to an emphasis on comparative studies of the development of isolated
blastomeres. As Morgan reported, "It has been found that the isolated blastomeres
of sea urchins, of certain hydroids, of nemerteans, of Amphioxns, offish, of Triton
and of the frog give rise to whole embryos; while the isolated blastomeres of
ctenophores, molluscs and ascidians give rise to half-embryos." In contrast, the use
of amphibian systems, stemming from the observations by Roux, produced a drive
to understand the failure of independent development, that is to identify that part
of an embryo so crucial to the developmental process that its absence resulted in a
defective embryo. It was this drive that promoted the study of cell interactions and
resulted in the discovery of embryonic induction. It is this trail that I shall follow,
pausing only to reflect briefly on the origins of these divergent trails of research. At
this meeting. Gross has addressed the philosophic differences between the morphol-
ogists (cell lineage) and the physiologists (Entwicklungsmechanik). I would add only
one other perception, based on E. G. Conklin's lectures and personal communications
from B. H. Willier.
At the end of his career, Conklin lectured each summer in the Embryology
Course at the Marine Biological Laboratory. In his lecture in the summer of 1946,
he dwelt on the difficulties presented by "seasonal research" and spoke plaintively
of his longing for a year-round supply of marine eggs and embryos, so that research
could be undertaken on materials selected, not for their ease or convenience, but
for their importance.
My own teacher, B. H. Willier, who was a student of Frank Lillie, (possibly
Lillie's most successful student) spent several summers in Woods Hole, and was in
fact a Trustee of the Marine Biological Laboratory. In the early 1960s, when I was
considering an invitation to head the Laboratory's Embryology course, Willier
advised me to accept — but with the caveat that I must not allow my summers at
EARLY STUDIES OF CELL INTERACTIONS 83
the MBL to dilute my ongoing year-round research program. He went on to tell us
(Clement Markert and me) that he was, in fact, repeating Frank Lillie's advice to
him. According to Willier, Lillie, in his later years, often wondered aloud about the
shortcomings of the MBL as a center for research (in contrast to "intellectual
rejuvenation") and especially about the decisions on research direction imposed by
the summer season, which tended to favor descriptive over experimental studies.
Lillie was said to have observed, "Willier, that's why there are no Harrisons at the
Laboratory."
Now, let me return to cell interactions. Our trail takes us largely to Europe,
although as we have already observed, the contribution of Warren Lewis, a
contemporary and colleague of Ross G. Harrison in Baltimore, was pivotal in
the field.
We pick up the trail at Spemann's laboratory at the turn of the century, as
revealed in articles he published in 1901(b), 1902, and 1903. There can be little
doubt that these observations had their origin in comparative studies typical of their
time. Spemann was examining the potencies of isolated blastomeres of Triton.
When can restriction of prospective potency to prospective value be detected?
The method used in these experiments was constriction of eggs or embryos with
a fine hair loop, as devised by O. Hertwig. This technique makes possible complete
separation of the first two blastomeres, halves of blastulae and gastrulae. [A slight
modification of the technique, in which a small cytoplasmic "bridge" is left, was
used in Spemann's later, also classic studies of twinning combined with delayed
nucleation (Spemann, 1914, 1918; see Weiss, 1939.).]
In one-third to one-fourth of the embryos studied the first cleavage coincides
with the axis of symmetry of the gastrula. However, in the majority of embryos,
the second cleavage coincides with this plane of symmetry.
Development subsequent to the application of firm constriction in the plane of
the first cleavage produces two kinds of results: ( 1 ) one blastomere produces a
normal embryo and the other forms a "Bauchstuck" and (2) each of the two
blastomeres produces a normal embryo. Subsequent observations revealed that in
the former, the blastopore formed in and was restricted to the descendants of one
blastomere only. (Spemann referred to this as the "dorsal" blastomere and to its
product as the "dorsal-embryo-half.") This dorsal-embryo-half develops into a
normal embryo, the ventral-embryo-half forming the Bauchstiick.
When two embryos were formed, the lip of the blastopore was bisected by the
ligature. In this case Spemann assumed that the constriction was median and
complete. (With "incomplete" constriction, double-headed monsters are produced.)
Spemann concluded that the first two blastomeres are of equal potency only
when they contain equal portions of the blastopore.
Eggs constricted in the blastula stage gave similar results leading him to conclude
that even before the appearance of the blastopore, an area is present in the egg the
equal division of which imparts equal potencies to both halves of the blastulae.
Thus, early in the first decade of the new century, Spemann took the first crucial
step toward identifying the need for cell-cell interaction in the developing amphibian
embryo.
Nor should we lose sight of the fact that Spemann himself, and Lewis in
Baltimore, were, in those very years, establishing the need for "induction" in the
development of the lens.
There followed a series of experiments using both isolation and recombination
(transplantation) techniques in which Spemann (1918) analyzed the process of
progressive determination in the urodele gastrula. The experiments carried out are.
84 J. D. EBERT
in principle, as follows: pieces were removed from stated areas of two Triton
gastrulae, and reciprocally transplanted; and the subsequent development of the
transplant was followed. All changes were homoplastic. The results may be sum-
marized as follows:
I. Exchange of pieces from presumptive medullary plate and presumptive
epidermis:
A. Early gastrulae: presumptive epidermis, when transplanted to the future
medullary plate area, develops into brain; presumptive medullary plate, when
transplanted to the future epidermal region, becomes epidermis — development
according to position.
B. Late gastrulae: presumptive epidermis, when transplanted to the future
medullary plate area, develops into epidermis; presumptive medullary plate, in
future epidermal region, becomes medullary plate — development according to
origin.
C. Exchanges between one early and one yolk-plug stage gastrula: regardless
of whether the "older" tissue transplanted was presumptive medullary plate or
epidermis, development was according to position. However in every case the older
tissue retains its "advantge" for several days.
II. Exchange of presumptive epidermis and the region immediately dorsal to
the blastopore (early gastrulae): presumptive epidermis, transplanted to the area of
the dorsal lip, produces brain; the region just dorsal to the blastopore, when
transplanted to the future epidermal region, "becomes brain and notochord."
In 1918 Spemann concluded that the region above the blastopore is presumptive
medullary plate; both brain and notochord develop from donor tissue; therefore the
region above the blastopore is fixed in its fate (medullary plate) earlier than the rest
of the medullary plate region.
This conclusion was surely incorrect, yet Spemann himself did not (in 1918)
reveal serious concern about it in print. Nevertheless, he moved immediately to try
to confirm and extend the 1918 study, repeating the experiments, but using
heteroplastic grafts between two differently pigmented species of Triton. The
findings, published in 1921, differed from those reported earlier, but not conclusively.
Spemann again observed that the region of the blastopore became determined
earlier than regions more distant from it and that there appeared to be an additional
"organizing action" of the dorsal lip region when transplanted to another embryo.
These suggestive findings set the stage for the definitive experiments by Spemann
and Mangold (1924) which proved that a piece of the dorsal lip of the blastopore,
in the process of gastrulation, exerts an organizational effect upon surrounding
tissues in such a manner that it causes a secondary embryo to be formed if
implanted in an indifferent place on another embryo. The grafted piece of the
blastopore was therefore designated as an "organizer."
Following the discovery of the organizing power of the dorsal lip, and the
demonstration by Spemann and Hilde Mangold that this capacity was not specific
between closely related species, Spemann wondered how far this non-specificity
might extend. At his suggestion Geinitz (1925), using both Spemann's transplantation
method and O. Mangold's "Einsteck" technique, tested less closely related species.
Results of transplantation of "organizers" from Pleurodeles waltli, Amblystoma
mexicanum, Rana temporaria, R. esculenta, and Bombinator pachypus to Triton
taeniatus, T. cristatus, or T. alpestris hosts showed that the action of the organizer
is non-specific between closely related genera, between families, and even between
different orders (or sub-classes). The most successful case of the last mentioned type
EARLY STUDIES OF CELL INTERACTIONS 85
is described in considerable detail. Using Spemann's method, a piece of Bombinator
"organizer" was placed in the ventral side of a young T. tacniatus gastrula. It
became invaginated near the host blastopore and eventually gave rise to a notochord,
undifferentiated mesoderm, and somites. In addition it induced from the host tissue
somites and a neural tube. Several similar but less striking cases were also mentioned.
Transplants from Bufo vulgaris and Hyla arborea to T. taenialus were unsuccessful.
In the case of transplantation in the reverse direction (urodele to anuran) no
induction occurred.
A complementary series of experiments dealt with the capacity of grafted
Bombinator presumptive epidermis to be influenced by its position in the host.
When stuck into the blastocoel it remained undifferentiated; if implanted in the
surface of the T. taeniatus host it developed according to position, becoming
epidermis or being invaginated and subsequently becoming mesoderm in the cases
reported.
Geinitz observed that the more distant the phylogenetic relationship between
graft and host, the less the tendency of the cells to mutually contribute to organs.
He suggested that the earlier the stages used, the more successful the grafts, possibly
because these may be antecedent to processes chemically differentiating the species.
Most important, these experiments illustrate the lack of species-specificity of the
induction process.
Geinitz's contribution was but the first in the long series of studies of the non-
specificity of the induction process, further demonstrated in the series of articles by
Holtfreter, of which his 1935 article is fully representative.
The discovery of the "organizer" and the revelation that it was not species
specific set in train fifteen years of intensive and largely fruitless research on its
chemical nature, by Spemann himself, especially in collaboration with Fischer and
Wehmeier (1933), by Joseph Needham and C. H. Waddington, and their colleagues,
by the leading Dutch investigators, especially Woerdeman and Raven and by E. J.
Boell and collaborators. As described by Brachet (1950), at various times attention
was focused on glycogens, fatty acids, sterols, and nucleoproteins. Fischer and
colleagues, influenced by Holtfreter, finally concluded that no specific chemical, or
group of chemicals, could be stated to be the organizer. On the other hand Needham,
Waddington, and associates postulated that the active "evocator" is a sterol type
substance, normally bound in a protein-glycogen-sterol complex and released
normally during gastrulation, or under experimental conditions by cytolyzing agents.
It was Holtfreter, and especially Lester Barth, whose observations brought the
"quest for the organizer" to a halt, just as World War II clouded the horizon. The
MBL provided a platform in 1939 for Barth to first present his observations,
subsequently published in 1941 as "Neural differentiation without organizer."
Earth's discovery, that the course of differentiation of small aggregates of cells
prepared from explants of ventral ectoderm of frog gastrulae depends upon the
composition of the solution in which they are cultured lent weight to Holtfreter1 s
ideas on the release of effectors by "mild and reversible cytolysis."
Following World War II the "quest for the organizer" continued, turning for a
time to the nucleic acids, especially the ribonucleic acids as effectors (Brachet, 1950).
While, in principle, cell-cell interaction involving the exchange of "information" at
the point of impact by the exchange of vesicular material or by cytoplasmic bridges
cannot be excluded, attention is now centered on the exchange of interactants via
cytoplasmic bridges, specialized junctions or other mechanisms, and on signals
generated at the membrane, transmitted via specific receptor sites and intracellular
mediators like Ca++ and cyclic AMP to specific genes.
86 J. D. EBERT
Indeed, the works of Barth presaged a quiet revolution that emphasized the
possible importance of internal release and redistribution of inorganic ions, leading
Barth and Barth to a series of contributions (1959-1974) in which they attempted
to formulate a general theory of ionic regulation of normal embryonic induction.
But immediately after World War II, the revolution was quiet indeed, as students
of embryology were swept up in the wave of extraordinary advances generated by
the one gene-one enzyme hypothesis, leading to the emergence of nucleic acid
chemistry and molecular genetics as focal fields of research.
CELL SURFACE INTERACTIONS IN MORPHOGENESIS
I have already remarked that the first decade of the twentieth century saw
embryology come of age as an experimental science. Indeed, it was probably
embryology's first "golden age," with advocates of both cell lineage and Entwick-
lungsmechanik contributing one discovery after another. The decade was capped by
what Michael Abercrombie called "an astonishing stride forward in the history of
biology," Ross G. Harrison's (1907, 1910) introduction of the technique of tissue
culture in the study of nerve outgrowth. Less heralded at the time and less
provocative in immediately opening up new vistas of experiments to be done were
the observations of Harrison's contemporary, H. V. Wilson (1907, see Morgan,
1927), on the species specific aggregation of dissociated sponge cells. Neither Wilson's
pioneering observations, nor the later extension of the work by Galtsoff, had a
significant impact on concepts of morphogenesis for three decades. Nor did the
contributions of Herbst at the turn of the century in dissociating embryos in
calcium-free sea water contribute significantly in the conceptual sense. Indeed, these
earlier observations came to the fore only after Holtfreter had published his classic
article "Tissue affinity, a means of embryonic morphogenesis" in which he developed
the concept of selective affinities between embryonic cells and tissues. He showed
that when tissues of amphibian embryos are exposed to solutions of high pH they
dissociate. Upon being returned to saline at a physiological pH, they reconstruct
the tissue of origin. Only then did the concepts of adhesive selectivity in cell
interactions, of "cell linking macromolecules" and "cell adhesion molecules"
gradually emerge.
LITERATURE CITED
BARTH, L. G. 1941. Neural differentiation without organizer. J. Exp. Zool. 87: 371-384.
BARTH, L. G. 1966. The role of sodium chloride in sequential induction of the presumptive epidermis of
Rana pipiens gastrulae. Biol. Bull. 131: 415-426.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1959. Differentiation of cells of the Rana pipiens gastrula in
unconditioned medium. J Embryo/. Exp. Morphol. 7: 210-222.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1962. Further investigations of the differentiation in vitro of presumptive
epidermis cells of the Rana pipiens gastrula. J. Morphol. 110: 347-373.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1963. The relation between intensity of inductor and type of cellular
differentiation of Rana pipiens presumptive epidermis. Biol. Bull. 124: 125-140.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1969. The sodium dependence of embryonic induction. Dev. Biol. 20:
236-262.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1972. 22Na and 45Ca uptake during embryonic induction in Rana
pipiens. Dev. Biol. 28: 18-34.
BARTH, L. G., AND L. J. BARTH. 1974. Ionic regulation of embryonic induction and cell differentiation
in Rana pipiens. Dev. Biol. 39: 1-22.
BARTH, L. J., AND L. G. BARTH. 1974. Effect of the potassium ion on induction of notochord from
gastrula ectoderm of Rana pipiens. Biol. Bull. 146: 313-325.
BRACHET, J. 1950. Chemical Embryology. Interscience Publishers, Inc., New York. 533 pp.
EARLY STUDIES OF CELL INTERACTIONS 87
GEINITZ, B. 1925. Embryonale Transplantation zwischen Urodelen und Anuren. Wilhelm Roitx Arch.
Entwicklungsmech. Org. 106: 357-408.
HARRISON, R. G. 1907. Observations on the living developing nerve fiber. Anal. Rec. 1: 1 16-1 18.
HARRISON, R. G. 1910. The outgrowth of the nerve fibre as a mode of protoplasmic movement. J. Exp.
Zool. 9: 787-848.
HOLTFRETER, J. 1935. Uber das Verhalten von Anurenektoderm in Urodelenkeimen. Wilhelm Roux'
Arch. Entwicklungsmech. Org 133: 427-494.
HOLTFRETER, J. 1939. Tissue affinity, a means of embryonic morphogenesis. Pp. 186-225 reprinted in
Foundations of Experimental Embryology, B. H. Willier and J. M. Oppenheimer. eds. Prentice-
Hall, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1964.
LEWIS, W. H. 1904. Experimental studies on the development of the eye in Amphibia. I. On the origin
of the lens in Rana palustris. Am. J. Anal. 3: 505-536.
LEWIS, W. H. 1907a. Lens formation from strange ectoderm in Rana sylvaticn. Am. J. Anal. 7: 145-169.
LEWIS, W. H. 1907b. Experimental studies on the development of the eye in Amphibia. III. On the origin
and differentiation of the lens. Am. J. Anal. 6: 473-509.
MORGAN, T. H. 1927. Experimental Embryology. Columbia University Press, New York. 766 pp.
Roux, W. 1888. Beitrag V. Uber die kiinstliche Hervorbringung halber Embryonen durch Zerstorung
einer der beiden ersten Furchungszollen, sowie uber die Nachentwicklung (Postgeneration) der
fehlenden Korperhalfte. I'irchows Arch. 114 (Ges. Abhande. II. Nr. 22): 419-521.
SPEMANN, H. 190 la. Ueber Correlationen in der Entwicklung des Auges. Anal. An:. Erganzungshefi 19:
61-79.
SPEMANN, H. 1901b. Entwicklungsphysiologische Studien am Triton-Ei. Wilhelm Roux' Arch. Entwick-
lungsmech. Org. 12: 224-264.
SPEMANN, H. 1902. Engwicklungsphysiologische Studien am Triton-Ei. II. Wilhelm Roux' Arch. Entwick-
lungsmech. Org. 15: 448-534.
SPEMANN, H. 1903. Engwicklungsphysiologische Studien am Triton-Ei. III. Wilhelm Roux' Arch.
Entwicklungsmech. Org. 16: 551-631.
SPEMANN, H. 1907. Neue Tatsachen zurn Linsenproblem. Zool. An:. 31: 379-386.
SPEMANN, H. 1918. Uber die Determination der ersten Organanlagen des Amphibienembryo. Wilhelm
Roux' Arch. Entwicklungsmech. Org. 43: 448-555.
SPEMANN, H. 1921. Uber die Erzeugung tierischer Chimaren durch heteroplastische embryonale.
Transplantation zeischen Triton cristatus und taeniatus. Wilhelm Roux' Arch. Entwicklungsmech.
Org. 48: 533-570.
SPEMANN, H., AND H. MANGOLD. 1924. Uber Induktion von Embryonanlagen durch Implantation
artfremder Organisator. Wilhelm Roux' Arch. Entwicklungsmech. Org. 100: 599-638.
SPEMANN, H., F. G. FISCHER, AND E. WEHMEIER. 1933. Fortgesetzte Versuche zur Analyse der
Induktionsmittel in der Embryonalentwicklung. Naturwissenschaften 21: 505-506.
WEISS, P. 1939. Principles of Development. Henry Holt, New York. 601 pp.
WILLIER, B. H., P. WEISS! AND V. HAMBURGER. 1955. Analysis of Development. W. B. Saunders,
Philadelphia. 735 pp.
Reference: Biol. Hull. 168 (suppl.): 88-98. (June, 1985)
AN EVOLUTIONARY CENTURY AT WOODS HOLE: INSTRUCTION
IN INVERTEBRATE ZOOLOGY
W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
Marine Biological Laboratory. Woods Hole, Massachusetts, 02543, and Department of Biology,
Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York, 13210
ABSTRACT
Whitman, Lillie, and their successors always regarded research and instruction
as complementary functions for the Marine Biological Laboratory. An invertebrate
zoology course was taught each summer at Woods Hole for 90 years. It is suggested
that the strengths of this course and its capacity to evolve came from the re-sorting
of eight or nine instructors with diverse research interests every five years or less,
within the constraints of a stable and highly structured instructional environment.
A chronological summary of instructional staffs is followed by a brief survey of the
invertebrate materials covered and the conceptual approaches used in instruction.
The course was never a comprehensive systematic coverage of all marine invertebrates,
while the teaching laboratory never provided the best conditions for teaching
comparative anatomy, but was a much better place to investigate feeding mechanisms,
locomotory patterns, or reproductive behavior in a reductionist fashion. Each group
of eight or nine instructors, attracted by opportunities for personal research, almost
inevitably included both mechanistic-physiologists and population-naturalists and
the dialectic which resulted had both educational and research-generating value.
The corporate body of active investigators at the MBL was sustained in part by the
conditions of recruitment for both course instructors and post-course research
students in invertebrate zoology.
INTRODUCTION
An invertebrate zoology course was taught each summer at Woods Hole for 90
years, for 81 of them in the same teaching laboratory on the lower floor of the
south wing of Old Main. However, this was far from representing an evolutionary
stasis. To a physiological ecologist turned Whig amateur recorder of its history,
there was a continuing dynamic equilibrium. Doubtless professional historians given
to the dialectic method (including Allen, 1979, 1981) would detect a long sustained
struggle between the phyletic and the experimental students of the invertebrates,
while a Namierian historian could readily compile proportionate statistics of the
research publications and institutional connections of the instructors and plot the
switches (sometimes acute, sometimes dampened) of interest in matters evolutionary.
In this brief survey I shall try to go beyond my natural Whig celebration or
encomium, and utilize a little from such alternative approaches. Two preliminary
matters concern the mechanics of staffing the course and the logistics of its
instructional laboratory. Both stem in part from the course's origins and antedate
the establishment of it and of the Marine Biological Laboratory in 1888.
88
INVERTEBRATE INSTRUCTION AT WOODS HOLE 89
HISTORY
Staffing and laboratory logistics
"Whitman regarded research and instruction as co-ordinate functions with a
single aim," noted Lillie (1944). Instruction at Penikese in 1873 and 1874, and at
Annisquam in 1881-1886 (see Lillie, 1944; Maienschein, 1985) provided models
for the course in marine invertebrate zoology which began with the founding of the
MBL in 1888. Both Whitman and Lillie noted that instructors from a variety of
home institutions could be recruited for each summer by the incentive of opportunities
for research. In later years, in addition to a laboratory with healthy marine organisms
and running sea water, these opportunities included an open and magnificent
research library, contacts with an international group of peers, and (in some periods)
access to technical equipment not available in many colleges. One result of this
mode of recruiting noted in a later report on educational policy (Buck et a/., 1963)
was that it has always been impossible to staff the invertebrate zoology course with
a set of specialists in each group of marine invertebrates because it has always been
more important to insist that all instructors show research distinction in experimental
science.
Two other aspects of staffing are important. First, the content and conduct of
the courses have always been the exclusive responsibility of the course instructors.
The Director and the standing committee on instruction become directly involved
only with the selection of each successive instructor-in-charge and with no other
aspect of any ongoing instructional program. Secondly, we have the practice, which
began early and soon became formalized for the invertebrate, embryology, and
physiology courses, that the term as instructor-in-charge of an established course
should not exceed five years.
Some other constraints arise from the fact noted by Lillie that the students in
invertebrate zoology included undergraduates and were generally the youngest group
in the summer institution. In fact, academic and calendar ages varied greatly, with
one or two holders of Ph.D. or M.D. degrees in most classes. Over at least six of
the decades, a majority of each class consisted of seniors and beginning graduate
students (a fact which may confuse historians using our archives since many
invertebrate course students would have different home institutions listed at spring
acceptance and at completion of the summer course). The number of students was
also larger than in the other formal courses, occasionally being over 50: in later
years it was usually 35 to 45, from whom 10-12 would be selected for post-course
research. In turn this dictated a larger number of instructors than in the other
formal courses, usually eight, but ranging from seven to ten.
Another determinant of the evolution of invertebrate instruction at the MBL
came from the architecture and furnishings of the teaching laboratory. Whitman
and Lillie believed that students should give their full time during the six weeks or
so of a formal summer course. Each student was thus to be assigned a private work
space, which could be occupied at any time of the day or night. For 8 1 years, right
up to the last summer (1968) before the opening of the Loeb laboratories, this was
in the ground-floor laboratory of the south, or original, wing of the Old Main
building and each individual space was actually a quarter of a large, wide workbench
like a "Naples" table (Groeben, 1975) with two students facing two others. For
most of the period, a long suite of sea-tables was placed down the middle of the
laboratory between seven workbenches on each side, and these housed the students'
study materials, the supply of healthy marine invertebrates.
90 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
The theme of this paper is one of structural continuity underlying functional
change. By most appropriate measures, the MBL's invertebrate course made a
major contribution to evolutionary biology during the last century. My thesis is that
the strengths of this contribution came largely from the resorting of eight or nine
instructors every five years or less (like chiasma-mandated recombination) within
the constraints of a stable and highly structured instructional environment (with all
the faunal diversity that can imply).
Instructors and invertebrates
It is possible to summarize, chronologically and briefly, the instructional staffing
and organization of the course and then, systematically but even more briefly, the
kinds of invertebrate material covered. In parts, these summaries will be obviously
eclectic.
In the beginning most of the principal investigators (and founding fathers) also
took part in instruction. In the years 1888 through 1895, summer students of
zoology heard more than merely "highlight" lectures from E. G. Conklin, Cornelia
M. Clapp, and C. O. Whitman himself. In the first year, B. H. Van Vleck who had
assisted Alpheus Hyatt at Annisquam was listed as instructor. By 1896-1897, two
younger instructors taking part were C. M. Child and F. R. Lillie. It may be
significant that by the tenth session (1897), Whitman was referring to a Department
of Investigation in Zoology and a Department of Instruction in Zoology, with the
only three other individuals listed under "Officers of Instruction" forming a
Department of Botany. A year later (1898), we find Zoology [printers or directors/
editors seemed to use the diaeresis in alternate years] divided into departments of
Investigation, Embryology (F. R. Lillie, Head Instructor), and Anatomy (James I.
Peck, Head Instructor), with separate departments of Physiology (Jacques Loeb,
Head Instructor) and of Botany (Bradley M. Davis, Head Instructor). In other
printed announcements for 1898, the "Anatomy" course was described (more
correctly in present usage) as a course on Morphology of Marine Invertebrates, and
we can note that the students received additional lectures from Whitman, E. G.
Gardiner, and V. L. Kellogg. [With the subsequent separation of the Embryology
course from the Zoology group, the traditional four MBL courses — Botany, Inver-
tebrate Zoology, Embryology, and Physiology — had been established by the beginning
of the 20th century.]
In 1897, James I. Peck of Williams College, who was also acting as Assistant
Director to Whitman, was instructor-in-charge of invertebrate zoology, and recorded
staff discussion about course content (see below). He was succeeded in 1901 by
Gilman A. Drew of the University of Maine, who subsequently became instructor-
in-charge of the embryology course in 1908, and then continued as Assistant
Director under Lillie for many years thereafter. Drew's last summer heading the
invertebrate course was 1907, when assisting him as a regular instructor was Otto
C. Glaser; the class heard lectures from Morgan, Conklin, Lillie, E. B. Wilson, and
possibly Whitman. A student in the course that summer from Syracuse University
was Charles Packard, and another student from Columbia University was Ethel N.
Browne.
In invertebrate zoology, Drew was succeeded by Winterton C. Curtis, then of
the University of Missouri (but see below), who headed the course 1907-191 1. By
1916-1918, Caswell Grave, W. C. Allee, W. H. Taliaferro, and T. W. Painter were
now instructors in the course, and in 1918-1919, Libbie H. Hyman was doing work
on invertebrate respiration under Child's direction, but stemming directly from
INVERTEBRATE INSTRUCTION AT WOODS HOLE 91
Jacques LoetTs earlier investigations. Allee was in charge in 1919-1920 when a
separate course on Protozoology under Gary N. Calkins was set up. By 1925, B. H.
Willier and H. B. Baker were instructors and by 1928, B. H. Grave and Elbert C.
Cole. The last fourteen instructors named include both experimentalists and
naturalists. Cole was instructor-in-charge in 1932-1936, and was succeeded for
1937-1941 by T. H. Bissonette, under whom P. S. Crowell and J. S. Rankin were
instructors.
Subsequent instructors-in-charge were: A. J. Waterman of Williams College
( 1 942), John B. Buck ( 1 943- 1 944), F. A. Brown Jr. ( 1 945- 1 949), Lewis H. Kleinholz
(1950-1954), Theodore H. Bullock (1955-1957), Grover C. Stephens (1958-1960),
Clark P. Read (1961-1963), W. D. Russell-Hunter (1964-1968), James F. Case
(1969-1971), Robert K. Josephson (1972-1974), and Michael J. Greenberg (1975-
1977). The last ten named could all be described as comparative physiologists, and
broadly the majority of their staffs could also be so described, although in fact they
ranged in their own research activities from comparative biochemistry and biophysics
through functional morphology to the physiological ecology of invertebrates, with
only a few being additionally systematists. A few staff lists can illustrate this: for
1947 we have F. A. Brown, Jr. (in charge), W. D. Burbanck, C. G. Goodchild, John
H. Lochhead, Madelene E. Pierce, W. M. Reid, Mary D. Rogick, and Talbot H.
Waterman; for 1954: Lewis H. Kleinholz (in charge), John H. Lochhead, Norman
A. Meinkoth, Grover C. Stephens, John M. Anderson, Muriel Sandeen, L. M.
Passano, and Morris Rockstein; for 1967: W. D. Russell-Hunter (in charge), George
G. Holz, Jr., Norman Millott, Eric L. Mills, James F. Case, Frank M. Fisher, Jr.,
Robert K. Josephson, Jonathan P. Green, Meredith L. Jones, and Hugh Y. Elder;
and for 1971: James F. Case (in charge). Garth Chapman, Alan Gelperin, David C.
Grant, Michael J. Greenberg, Joseph B. Jennings, Charlotte P. Mangum, James G.
Morin, and Dorothy M. Skinner. In the period 1969-1977, the course was called
Experimental Invertebrate Zoology, perhaps echoing a period in the thirties when
the embryology course was named Experimental Embryology. In 1978, the inver-
tebrate course was replaced by one entitled Neural Systems and Behavior under the
direction of Alan Gelperin and subsequently of Ronald R. Hoy.
Potential material on invertebrates is enormous. Over the 9 1 years, the invertebrate
zoology course attempted to increase understanding of the biology of > 300,000
diverse species classified in 32 animal phyla (including two "new" phyla Pogonophora
and Gnathostomulida which were added later in the 20th century, and several
redefinitions during the period). For most of the nine decades, Protozoa were not
included (except, for example, from 1963 to 1969), and most aspects of the biology
of insects and of other land arthropods were deliberately excluded. The material
was generally made more manageable by placing greater emphasis on the nine or
so "major" phyla, designated as such, not merely as encompassing larger numbers
of species or of individuals, but also in recent years by quantifiable ecological
measures. To illustrate these, of the solar energy incorporated into green plants, a
disproportionately large share flows through representatives of such major phyla as
the Arthropoda and the Mollusca, whereas the energy flow through representatives
of the minor phylum Entoprocta in any ecosystem is normally several orders of
magnitude smaller. For the 77 years from Drew to Greenberg at least, the biology
of Cnidaria, Annelida, Arthropoda, Mollusca, and Echinodermata always received
considerable attention, with the extent of work on sponges, flatworms, nematodes,
and invertebrate chordates varying from one instructional group to another. The
other twenty-two minor phyla were usually neglected — the course was never a
comprehensive systematic coverage of all kinds of marine invertebrates. Certain
92 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
naturalists among the course staffs were always dissatisfied by this (see below) as, in
the early decades, were certain institutions which financially supported students for
the invertebrate course.
Although this strategy was consistent for 9 1 years, staff debate on the tactics of
appropriate neglect continued for at least 70 of them. In preparing to write this
paper, I was surprised to read about a staff (and student) discussion (Peck, 1896)
centering on "rapidly going over many forms, versus doing a few forms more
thoroughly" reported for 4 July 1896 by James I. Peck, a discussion paralleled in
1966 by my course colleagues. We concluded, as Peck's associates apparently did,
that with a heterogeneous group of students, a diversity of material should be
available, but that levels of investigation were better paced individually by each
student's needs. Of course, we were only echoing the training policy established
even earlier for the Annisquam Laboratory by Alpheus Hyatt. Concentration upon
"representative types" of invertebrates, an educational legacy of mixed value derived
from Louis Agassiz, ebbed and flowed in the invertebrate course, reaching a later
apogee in 1945-1949, and being as deliberately eschewed in 1961-1974.
This somewhat arbitary limitation of invertebrate groups to be studied was
paralleled by some restriction of conceptual approach. Again we find considerable
continuity over the 91 years in what could be a dynamic synthesis continually
refashioned. The treatment of the invertebrates presented to most students was
intermediate in regard to both grade of biological organization and level of concept;
that is, it was concerned with whole animals considered mainly at the mechanistic-
physiological and adaptive-functional levels of explanation. The structural-descriptive
level was rarely emphasized, and the evolutionary-historical level only explored
from time to time. It is possible that the tissue and cell grades of organization were
more often added to the whole-animal and organ studies in the first three decades
of the course, and that population and community interactions were considered
more frequently after 1920, but whole-animal investigations remained central.
Research themes recurring over the years, although with increasing sophistication
of study techniques, include patterns of feeding, mechanics of locomotion, and
reproductive behavior.
Value of MBL courses
The mechanistic functional morphology basic to this conceptual approach
requires surprisingly little instruction in formal systematics, and little had ever been
given in the Woods Hole invertebrate courses. In the last years of the Invertebrate
Zoology course as such, the argument was being used that there were many other
courses being taught elsewhere in the United States which dealt with the systematics
and natural history of marine invertebrates at the senior undergraduate level, and
therefore it was unnecessary to do this at the MBL. This argument ignored the fact
that many of these courses elsewhere had been founded by "refugees" who believed,
in part correctly, that these kinds of studies had always been neglected in MBL
courses. I am sure that Drs. John M. Anderson, John M. Kingsbury, John S.
Rankin, and Donald J. Zinn would claim that this educational mission was taken
up by the newer institutions with which they were connected largely because it had
been neglected for so long at the MBL. Clearly, this interpretation was not known
to other internal critics concerned with other training programs at the MBL. I
remember arguing with the late Harry Grundfest in the middle sixties that the MBL
needed an invertebrate zoology course largely because American biology still needed
an experimentalist counter to such natural history courses, even if only to assure
an appropriate diversity of marine invertebrate systems to be used in future studies
INVERTEBRATE INSTRUCTION AT WOODS HOLE 93
in comparative physiology and physiological ecology. In making any comparisons
between the MBL's invertebrate course and the marine invertebrate courses currently
offered at the Isles of Shoals, at Duke's Beaufort Laboratory, at Avery Point, at
Lewes, at Pacific Grove, and elsewhere, I would make an exception of the courses
offered by the Friday Harbor Laboratories of the University of Washington, which
have been closely similar to those at the MBL, and have had a similar output of
investigators and publishable investigations.
Measures of the contribution of MBL courses, including invertebrate zoology,
to both evolutionary and physiological biology in North America are varied. One,
in some ways similar to contemporary use of citation indices by sociologists of
science and by college administrators, was first used by G. A. Drew in 1923. He
tabulated the number of students from the summers of 1908 to 1917 inclusive
whose names had appeared in the 1922 edition of American Men of Science. By
this measure 18% of all students and 12% of those from the invertebrate courses
were regarded as successful investigators and college-level teachers. A larger sample
(1918-1931) surveyed by Charles Packard in 1939 (Packard, 1940) yielded 29.6%
of all students (49.1% of males) and 25.4% of invertebrate zoology students (47% of
males). When, for federal training grant applications in 1964 and 1968, I surveyed
the invertebrate classes from the early 1950's my figures were somewhat higher than
Packard's. In any such survey, individual names may have consequence beyond
such statistics. As a single example, significant contributions to our understanding
of evolutionary processes, using distinct conceptual approaches and widely diverse
invertebrate data bases, have been made by four students from this period: J. O.
Corliss, M. J. West-Eberhard, J. S. Farris, and L. B. Slobodkin. Thus, ultimate as
well as proximate biological causalities have been profitably explored by the
invertebrate-trained cohorts. However, speculative phylogeny has never been prom-
inent in invertebrate instruction at the MBL. At least from Drew's time onward,
the instructors concerned with evolutionary (ultimate) questions or the neo-Darwin-
ians, although usually outnumbered by those concerned with physiological (proximate)
questions or the Loebians, have been population-statistical investigators with stochastic
yet testable hypotheses rather than idealist morphologists.
One of the investigators at the MBL in the first years of the century does
exemplify the worst aspects of the speculative schools of post-Haeckel morphology.
He was William Patten who published metabiological reports on comparative
anatomy in the Journal of Morphology and elsewhere, which postulated an origin
of vertebrates in arachnids like Limiilm. This represents a comparatively late
derivative of the Naturphilosophen of J. W. Goethe, and is perhaps closest in
concept to the publications of Lorenz Oken in the first half of the nineteenth
century. Patten's reports can be contrasted with contemporary MBL work by Otto
C. Glaser who was then an instructor in the zoology course. In the Journal of
Experimental Zoology in 1907, Glaser published a paper whose title seems to
anticipate the Neural Systems and Behavior course under Alan Gelperin which
formally replaced the invertebrate zoology course in 1978. It was entitled "On
movement and problem solving in Ophiura"
Instructional material from the invertebrate course continued to affect more
formal pedagogy elsewhere. Many textbooks had origins at Woods Hole. Among
others, Winterton C. Curtis, Chauncey G. Goodchild, Douglas A. Marsland, and
Libbie H. Hyman were involved in early undergraduate texts. The only advanced
invertebrate text in English remains uncompleted after Libbie H. Hyman prepared
the first five magnificent volumes (1940-1954), each as a real pandect. Further,
Woods Hole instructional work stimulated the first English coverage of comparative
animal physiology in 1961 by C. Ladd Prosser and Frank A. Brown, Jr. Somewhat
94 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
earlier, the course instructors, along with a few associates under the editorship of
Frank Brown, had produced the useful volume, Selected Invertebrate Types (1950).
This was a worthy successor to older German Prakticum, as a summary of
comparative invertebrate morphology for a restricted series of type invertebrates. It
emerged in conversation with some of the authors, that they did not regard it as
representative of what they should teach at Woods Hole, but rather as background
material they would have liked all students to have known. More recently, symbiotic
instructional activities in the invertebrate course are acknowledged as part of the
origins for a laboratory guide to the invertebrates in 1970 by I. W. Sherman and
V. G. Sherman, for two of my paperbacks (1968 and 1969), and for my larger
textbook, A Life of Invertebrates (1979). Of course, primary research literature was
continually produced. Over the last 30 years of the course, 5-9 research papers
resulted each year from the summer investigations of instructors and postcourse
students. In general, many distinguished investigators, many new research topics,
and a wide variety of publications were produced for American science by the
invertebrate zoology course at the MBL.
CONSTRAINTS AND PURPOSES
The dual mission of the MBL
For the invertebrate course, as for the MBL as a whole, the dual mission has
always been to produce new biological investigators as well as new biological
investigations. Successive directors (and boards of trustees) have held firm to that
mission, despite recurrent pressures to cut back on instruction (or, in earlier years,
to place it under the administration of one or two colleges). They have also
deliberately opposed any proposals to decouple instruction from investigation at
Woods Hole. In 1978, the first annual report of Paul R. Gross quotes Whitman,
"Other things being equal, the investigator is always the best instructor." Charles
Packard's annual report for 1940 quotes as the first point promulgated by the then
committee on instruction, "The instructorships are to be regarded as aids to
research.'" As noted in this symposium and elsewhere (Lillie, 1944; Maienschein,
1985), the prehistory of the MBL was responsible for the initial importance of
instruction. This was unusual among the early marine laboratories; initially Con-
carneau, Naples, Plymouth, and Monaco had no great instructional committments,
although provision of aquariums for the general public was important.
One other institution, the laboratory of the Scottish Marine Biological Association
at Millport in Scotland, had mixed origins like the MBL (Yonge, 1972; Currie,
1983) and an early instructional mission. It was founded as a floating laboratory,
the Ark, by John Murray (of Challenger fame) at Granton in 1884 and was towed
to Millport (1885) on the Isle of Cumbrae in the Clyde Sea Area to join forces with
Dr. David Robertson (earlier an associate and advisor of Anton Dohrn, see Groeben,
1984), and a group of Glasgow naturalists (several involved with adult education).
The Association was incorporated as a non-profit company to promote research
and education in marine biology, in a close parallel to the MBL. For nearly seven
decades, investigation and instruction were symbiotic at Millport as at Woods Hole.
However, in 1968-1970 almost all research activities were transferred from Millport
to a new set of laboratory buildings at Dunstaffnage near Oban on the west coast
of mainland Scotland. The Millport laboratory has been left to continue teaching
and the supply of marine material for instruction elsewhere, as the University
Marine Biological Station, administered jointly by London and Glasgow Universities.
It is to the credit of Norman Millott and John A. Allen, successive directors of the
"rump" station, that some worthy research has continued at Millport. Within fifteen
INVERTEBRATE INSTRUCTION AT WOODS HOLE 95
years, the Dunstaffnage laboratory has grown much more like the Woods Hole
Oceanographic Institution than the MBL, and it is interesting that they are now
similarly trying to re-establish tenuous links with graduate education. The dual
committment to research and training at the MBL should never be compromised.
Given that the double mission has helped create the rich MBL summer
environment of collective curiosity and scientific debate, what was uniquely important
about the MBL's invertebrate course? My thesis suggests that both the microenvi-
ronment of the instructional setting, and the numbers, recruiting, and turnover of
the instructional staff were unusual, possibly unique. Both features may merit a
further gloss.
The instructional theater
The part played by the invertebrate teaching laboratory as the theater in which
instruction in invertebrate zoology evolved over nearly a century, can hardly be
exaggerated. The availability of healthy marine invertebrates in the tanks and dishes
of the sea-tables almost mandated that over nine decades some students in every
summer would pursue studies on whole animal physiology or behavior. The
organization of this proscenium arch (along with the conditions of recruitment for
the actors) created certain limitations as well as opportunities which remained
consistent throughout the years. It is important to realize that the teaching laboratory
in Old Main never provided the best conditions for teaching comparative anatomy,
as successive instructors who had inclinations toward such classical morphology
(such as Drew, or forty years later Bullock, or sixty years later Schopf) complained
from time to time. It was always a much better place to study feeding mechanisms
or locomotory patterns or reproductive behavior — in other words to investigate
problems of whole animal physiology in a mechanistic, reductionist fashion. Thus
it was entirely apt that the successor teaching laboratory, partly designed on the
basis of the Old Main one, should be housed in a training building named after
Jacques Loeb.
The case of Winterton C. Curtis provides a revealing excursus on student work-
spaces. He was a student in the Zoology Course in 1 896, an independent investigator
in the laboratory in the last years of the century, and later instructor and then
instructor-in-charge for four years ending in 1911. He went on to head the first
National Research Committee on the biological effects of radiation, and as such
was responsible for obtaining early X-ray equipment both for H. J. Muller and for
the MBL. As every historian knows, he was one of the expert witnesses used so
effectively by Clarence S. Darrow as defense attorney in the Scopes trial in
Tennessee. I first encountered Dr. Curtis, then a spry gentleman in his mid-eighties,
when he came into the invertebrate teaching laboratory in Old Main to ascertain
who was sitting in his old seat. He returned within an hour to present the student
with some suitably inscribed books. On inquiry, I found he had been doing this for
decades and, since the seating plan of Old Main did not change, the student honored
each year always had a surname beginning with the letter 'B\ 'O, or *D\ He always
talked for a while with the student (carefully avoiding any interference with class
work). It was all very discreet and I may know more about the matter than most
instructors, simply because one letter 'B\ Stephen C. Brown, was subsequently a
research associate of mine. Dr. Curtis continued his annual visits to Old Main until
the summer of 1964; he died in 1966.
The importance of each student being assigned an individual working place,
which may be occupied at any time of day or night, was established by Whitman
and is confirmed as policy at several places in Lillie's account. As Curtis knew.
96 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
alphabetic assignment of places had persisted for at least six decades. What Lillie
(1944) noted in his retrospect of forty years was still true in the middle sixties, and
lights remained on in the invertebrate laboratory of Old Main long into most nights.
Of course, the Old Main community was never totally asocial; many human
interactions took place across and around the sea-tables. Temporary, and more
lasting, partnerships seemed to be exogamous. Therefore, a hypothesis to be tested
by a curious sociologist working our archives is that subsequent marriages involved
alphabetically distant pairs.
The setting also provided an open consulting clinic on invertebrate biology for
other investigators at MBL. If some physiologist's research animals became parasitized,
there was always a possibility that someone (staff or student) in the teaching
laboratory could identify the parasite. If a comparative biochemist wanted different
sources of cartilage in invertebrates or of elastin fibers, information (and possibly
living examples) could be available. A truly synergic exchange of knowledge between
the collectors of the supply department and the instructors in the invertebrate
laboratory extended over both the early decades and the last twenty years of the
course. This occasionally took on unusually systematic aspects, with instructors
providing diagnostic keys for collectors dealing with congeneric species, or collectors
providing habitat details for less frequent forms. I have been told that, over a period
of two intermediate decades, this commensal relationship went sour, with certain
collectors being secretive not only about specific localities but also about general
habitat conditions. In general, however, the workers in both the invertebrate teaching
laboratory and the supply department provided cognate and complementary resources
on invertebrate diversity to the rest of the Woods Hole community. A restored
invertebrate zoology course could complement the functioning of the proposed
Marine Resources Center in a similar way.
The prevalence of mechanistic investigations of feeding and locomotion over
the years has already been noted, and was clearly stimulated by the availability of
healthy animals in the sea-tables of the teaching laboratory. As early as the tenth
session in 1897, a great deal of "live histology" was going on, making use of the
translucency of tissues in certain invertebrates to observe microscopically subcellular
processes. Productive variants of these techniques continued for eighty years, and
contribute to ongoing work on the visualization of microtubules. Indirectly, the
transference of such techniques used in Woods Hole to living mammalian tissues
in the development of the rabbit's ear chamber by Eliot R. Clark in 1929 led, as
was documented by W. E. LeGros Clark (1958), to the modernization of much
vertebrate histology and to some continuing techniques of tissue culture.
Research projects in the open teaching laboratory were always carried out amidst
a critical public. While on occasion an instructor or post-course student would feel
somewhat over-advised, at least there was no danger that any experimental design
would be deficient in controls or involve pseudoreplication. Finally, the significance
of the living invertebrates in the sea-tables can be illustrated by two prohibitions
which were among the very few laboratory rules for students in the course. First,
histological fixatives were banned from the students' work-benches and from the
sea-table area. Secondly, students were strongly discouraged from making personal
collections of preserved animals or of molluscan shells. Keeping a diversity of living
material available for all students was regarded as paramount.
Instructor turnover and dialectic
Great evolutionary strength resulted from the MBL policy that the term as
instructor-in-charge of an established course should not exceed five years. This
INVERTEBRATE INSTRUCTION AT WOODS HOLE 97
allowed conceptual shifts as well as technological ones to occur in the invertebrate
course, the one continuous feature for more than 80 years being the teaching
laboratory with its healthy living marine invertebrates in the running-water sea-
tables. It is clear that over part of this time, instruction in the parallel course in
marine botany hardly evolved at all. A single instructor-in-charge ran that course
for 18 years and, after a 3-year interval, his designated successors ran a largely
unchanged course for a further 15 years. This relative stasis in instruction has
created major planning difficulties in marine botany for the Director and instruction
committee of the MBL to this day.
Not only the limited term for each course head, but also the larger number of
instructors to be recruited, maintained the dynamic strength of the invertebrate
course. All instructors were investigators. To put it crudely, the instructor-in-charge
of any MBL course dispensed patronage in the form of opportunities for research.
The single characteristic shared by all chosen as instructors has always been their
predictable research yield. This is why I believe the larger size of the invertebrate
course staff was important. Each group of eight or nine instructors, recruited as
having research interests in different invertebrates, almost inevitably included both
mechanistic-physiologists and population-naturalists, with experimentalists largely
but not exclusively in the former group. Each year some aspects of a thesis-antithesis
(Allen, 1979, 1981; Mayr, 1982) would be publicly renewed to the great benefit of
the student group. When in the invertebrate classroom headed by Clark P. Read 24
years ago, I challenged the biochemical generalizations on invertebrate aging put
forward by Bernard L. Strehler, using criticisms drawn from demographic statistics
for life-cycles, I did not then realize my part in continuing an educational process
of long standing. If, in similar debates, pejorative labels were used such as "tissue-
grinding" versus "dickybird-listing," they more often referred to contrasting meth-
odologies rather than to conceptual paradigms (as clearly perceived in other cases
by our historians, see Allen, 1981; Maeinschein, 1981), and obviously sounded both
more significant and more polemic to outside observers. There was often greater
tolerance of the broader paradigms, and most instructors recognized (when they
bothered at all) that both the evolutionary (population) and the physiological levels
of explanation were of legitimate interest to biologists. In discussing students of
ultimate (evolutionary) and proximate (physiological) causations, Mayr (1982) has
even retrodicted the polarity back to the late sixteenth century and to the contrast
between herbalist-naturalists and physician-physiologists.
Aside from their importance in an educational process, the continuously renewed
debates among invertebrate course instructors generated or reconstituted a number
of active research areas. A few from the last thirty years can be mentioned. Debate
and research on the occurrence and nature of biological "clocks" spread from
invertebrate course instructors. Revival of interest in August Putter's theories on
direct uptake of organic solutes by invertebrates had a similar history. Research
controversies involving the hormones and neurohormones of arthropods moved
into and out from the course. In several periods, dissension about invertebrate
orientation and navigation gave rise to fruitful research. Debate on a heart-like
structure in sea urchins was speculative and proved to be functionally ill-based, but
gave rise to investigations of the role of the axial organ in responses to infective
microorganisms in echinoderms. It is possible that a majority of such research
questions would not have been debated and developed as active projects, but for
the concurrence as instructors of mechanistic-physiologists and population-naturalists.
On the broader scale, invertebrate zoology and the other formal courses have
provided essential recruitment (along with hierarchical selective processes) to renew
the corporate body of active investigators at the MBL. Over the years, successive
98 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
directors of the MBL resisted any proposals to decouple instruction from investigation
(thus avoiding the fate of the Scottish marine station at Millport), or to modify for
the embryology, physiology, and invertebrate zoology courses the policy that the
term of each instructor-in-charge should not exceed five years (thus avoiding the
evolutionary difficulties of the marine botany course). Continuing and evolving
strength of the MBL as a research community depends upon its demography being
dynamic. In turn, this requires both intracohort competition (no matter how research
space is assigned, accounted, or funded) and effective continuing recruitment. The
latter was well served by the "research patronage" mode of recruitment for both
course instructors and postcourse students.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am truly indebted (along with all the other participants in the Ischia symposium)
to Paul R. Gross and Alberto Monroy for creating it, and to Seymour S. Cohen
and Garland E. Allen for helping them organize the integrated program. It is
obvious that my own charge, concerning invertebrate teaching in the MBL's
evolution, has been treated rather literally in this paper. As a historical contribution,
its biases are obvious, and it may tend to resemble the eulogies of a regimental
history. However it should have some value not only as a participant's recall, but
also as an ecologist's view of a population-habitat interaction. Perhaps physiological
ecologists, like the above developmental biologists turned historians, are preadapted
as amateurs of history by their concern with the synoptic analysis of dynamic
processes through time. I must also thank Jane Fessenden (MBL Librarian), Ruth
Davis (MBL Archivist), Garland E. Allen, and Peregrine D. Russell-Hunter for help
with reference materials. Once again, this paper has required help at all stages of its
production from my wife, Myra Russell-Hunter, to and for whom I continue always
thankful.
LITERATURE CITED
ALLEN, G. E. 1979. Naturalists and experimentalists: the genotype and the phenotype. Stud. Hist. Biol.
3: 179-209.
ALLEN, G. E. 1981. Morphology and twentieth-century biology: a response. J. Hist. Biol. 14: 159-176.
BUCK, J. B., A. LAZAROW, T. HAYASHI, B. KETCHUM, AND J. W. GREEN. 1963. Report of the instruction
committee on educational policy. Biol. Bull. 125: 50-53.
CURRIE, R. I. 1983. Marine science (Two hundred years of the biological sciences in Scotland). Proc. R
Soc. Edinburgh (B) 84: 231-250.
DREW, G. A. 1923. Data on course students. Reproduced in Packard (1940) below.
GROEBEN, C. 1975. The Naples Zoological Station at the Time of Anton Dohrn: Exhibition and Catalogue.
English translation, published by the Goethe-Institut (German Cultural Center), Paris. 1 10 pp.
GROEBEN, C. 1984. The Naples Zoological Station and Woods Hole. Oceanus 27: 60-69.
LEGROS CLARK, W. E. 1958. The Tissues oj < the Body, 4th ed. Oxford University Press, Oxford. 415 pp.
LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
284 pp.
MAIENSCHEIN, J. 1981. Shifting assumptions in American biology: embryology, 1890-1910. J. Hist. Biol.
14: 89-113.
MAIENSCHEIN, J. 1985. Agassiz, Hyatt, Whitman and the birth of the Marine Biological Laboratory. Biol.
Bull. 168:(suppl.): 26-34.
MAYR, E. 1982. The Growth of Biological Thought: Diversity, Evolution and Inheritance. Belknap Press,
Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 974 pp.
PACKARD, C. 1940. The scientific record of students in courses at the Marine Biological Laboratory. Biol.
Bull. 79: 25-27.
PECK, J. I. 1896-1898. Manuscript notes on courses, bound with marked copies of the annual
announcements on summer instruction. Archives, Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole.
YONGE, C. M. 1972. The inception and significance of the Challenger expedition. Proc. R. Soc. Edinburgh
(B) 72: 1-13.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 99-106. (June, 1985)
THE SEA URCHIN AND THE FRUIT FLY:
CELL BIOLOGY AND HEREDITY, 1900-1910
BERNARDINO FANTINI
Dipartimento di Genet ica e Biologia Molecolare, Universita degli Sludi di Roma "La Sapienza. " and
Gruppo di Storia delle Science Biologiche, Staiione Zoologica di Napoli
ABSTRACT
The choice of an experimental subject particularly suitable for a specific research
field opened the way for new discoveries and new theories. The sea urchin and the
fruit fly, the material of choice for embryological and genetic research, symbolize
two different research traditions.
Knowledge regarding these animals was vast but largely separate, with little cross
fertilization, so that by the '30s little was known about the genetic system of the sea
urchin, and embryological studies of Drosophila were just beginning.
This paper illustrates the reason for this disciplinary distinction. Embryologists
concentrated on the relationships between nucleus and cytoplasm while geneticists
of the '"Drosophila Group" concentrated on the nucleus, focusing exclusively on
the transmission aspects of heredity. T. H. Morgan's work forms a central focus, as
he moved from an embryological concern to build a new scientific program of
genetic transmission work.
DISCUSSION
Many science historians have stressed the importance of laboratory materials
for the development of research in particular fields. Such materials include: the
chicken egg for von Baer's morphological theory of embryonic development,
Salamandra maculata for Flemming's cytological investigation (because of the large
size of its cells and nuclei), Pisum sativum for Mendel's early research on the
hereditary laws (as opposed to the difficult second choice Hieracium), Triton for
Spemann's experiments on the organizer, Neurospora for chemical genetics, and
Escherichia coli and the T-phages for molecular biology.
The sometimes deliberate and sometimes serendipitous choice of an experimental
subject suitable for a specific field has opened the way for advancement of research
and theories. Much progress has depended upon the fortuitous discovery of
organisms that clearly illustrate a process or a structure, or that lend themselves to
convenient experimentation. For instance, Flemming's choice of organisms with
long chromosomes as his research material undoubtedly helped him to elucidate
the main features of mitosis. At other times the choice has been less fortunate. For
example, Mendel's decision to test his theory of inheritance in Hieraciiim in order
to generalize it, (as suggested by Nageli), was certainly one of the reasons for the
neglect of his work. In this genus, as we now know, parthenogenesis is common,
which led Mendel to results incompatible with his original theory. De Vries's
selection of Oenothera lamarkiana as experimental support of his own Mutation-
theorie provides another such negative example.
The sea urchin and the fruit fly, Paracentrotus lividus and Drosophila melano-
gaster, the materials of choice for embryological and genetic research, positively
symbolize two different research traditions. As a laboratory organism, the sea urchin
99
100 B. FANTINI
was first introduced by Hertwig in the spring of 1875, during his research on the
process of fertilization. The egg in this species is small, has little yolk, and remains
transparent even at high magnifications. Moreover both egg and sperm are easy to
preserve. This material is therefore very suitable for embryological studies. The sea
urchin was the organism on which Driesch performed his famous experiments, in
1891, separating the two first blastomeres and thereby challenging W. Roux's mosaic
theory of embryonic development. In this way it became the material of choice for
that part of embryology concerned with cell physiology and the mechanism of
determination ("physiological morphology").
In contrast, Drosophila was introduced as an experimental organism for hereditary
studies in W. E. Castle's laboratory around 1901. In 1906 Castle described some
Mendelian characters in Drosophila, and T. H. Morgan started to use the fly by
1908 to induce de Vriesian mutations by exposing the larvae to radium. The
following years he studied breeding in Drosophila in connection with evolutionary
studies and found this animal a "wonderful material."0 However, only after 1910
did he carry out the experiments which founded a new discipline, the chromosome
theory of the gene.
Embryologists and geneticists studied their respective experimental objects in
impressive depth, yet knowlege of these animals remained distinct, with little cross
fertilization. Between 1906 and 1907 Stevens explored Drosophila for cytological
studies, but the fruit fly did not enter the realm of "cytological animals." In the
'30s, then, after three decades of Mendelism, little was known about the genetic
system of the sea urchin and the embryological studies of Drosophila were just
beginning. Why for many decades, notwithstanding the growing importance of
research performed on these organisms, did these subjects of study and the questions
asked of them remain so distinct?
By the 1890s experimental embryologists stressed that development was the
result of factors internal to the organism itself, even though they differed on how
the internal mechanisms operated. That mechanism relates to the notion of heredity,
the transmission of some internal organizing factors from parents to offspring
through the zygote. In particular, some embryologists thought that the entire process
was determined by the organization of the egg cytoplasm prior to fertilization. They
asked: what kind of factor is actually inherited? How do they control embryonic
differentiation? In such a way the problems of heredity and those of embryogenesis
seem to be neatly connected. Yet, the two fields, embryology and genetics, remained
separated for many decades. Why? To answer such questions, it is necessary to
study the historical developments of both disciplines. In particular, Morgan's shift
from embryology to genetics and back to embryology, well known thanks to
Garland Allen's book, provides a useful case-study for some general remarks about
disciplinary relationships.1
Embryological work includes a variety of distinct research programs. Entwick-
lungsmechanik dominated the embryological community, at least in Europe, but
this "sea urchin tradition" was in a morphological phase, even if it was a
physiological morphology, looking for a causality of morphogenesis. Cell lineage
was a different tradition and many of its problems were common to cytology, the
morphological study of cell structure. Within the cytological tradition the main
concern was the multiplication of cells and nuclei and in particular the role and
behavior of chromosomes. Already in 1888 Boveri had demonstrated that the
members of each pair of homologous chromosomes are qualitatively different in
their hereditary determinants from members of all other pairs. Thus each chromosome
pair was unique, having individuality, even when it disappeared during some phases
CELL BIOLOGY AND HEREDITY 101
of cell division. Another research program, Mendelian genetics, was derived from a
tradition different from chromosome studies, both theoretically and institutionally,
and scientific communications between the two fields remained rare. Study of
heredity was not concerned with transmission genetics but with corpuscular theories
of heredity and embryology. The close relationship between the study of heredity
and embryology prior to Mendel's rediscovery disappeared in the early XXth
century.
The main point of contact between embryology and heredity was the problem
of sex determination. This problem was well studied by the cell-lineage school, but
it was less interesting for the typical Entwicklungmechanicker, who was more
concerned with the very early phases of embryonic development, especially the first
cell divisions. This problem lay at the boundary of the two separate disciplines: it
was studied by cytologists, like E. B. Wilson, and by geneticists, like W. Bateson, L.
Cuenot, and W. E. Castle, with very different methods and theories.
The various theories of sex determination current in the decade 1900-1910 fell
into two general groups. One group maintained that external conditions were the
primary factors in determining sex; the opposing group maintained that sex was
determined only by internal factors. Cytologists generally held the first theory and
geneticists the second, presenting a different form of the old dichotomy between
epigenesis and preformation.
In 1902, C. E. McClung presented the first suggestion that the "accessory""
chromosome, described by Henking in 1891, could be associated with sex determi-
nation in adults, on the basis of the existence of two classes of sperm, one with an
accessory chromosome. Shortly afterward, in 1902, Boveri and Sutton pointed out
the extraordinary similarity between the cytologically observed separation of members
of each chromosome pair during gamete production and Mendel's postulated
segregation of independent factors. That was evidence of the possible link between
chromosomes and Mendelian factors. Boveri's evidence was conclusive, however,
only for people already convinced of the chromosome theory, for it indicates, as
Morgan wrote in 1910 "that individual chromosomes do not in any sense contain
either preformed germs or determinants, or unit characters, or even stand for the
production of particular organs in any sense."2
In 1905 Wilson's and Stevens' evidence that the accessory chromosome was the
sex-determining element confirmed a close parallel between cytological observations
and the determination of sex. In spite of these results, even among the supporters
of the theory of chromosomal determination of sex, the conclusive evidence of
these observations was weak. Wilson concluded that "great if not insuperable
difficulties are encountered by any form of the assumption that these chromosomes
are specifically male or female sex determinants."
Richard Hertwig's work in 1906-1907, studying cross fertilization between frogs
of different geographic races, furnished additional evidence that chromosomes really
did have a significant role in sex determination. Those experiments showed that if
one used the sperm of a single male for fertilizing different females, the normal sex
ratio among the offspring would result. In contrast, fertilizing a female with sperm
from different males produces quite variable results. It could be concluded that the
sperm was really the sex-determining element. Morgan was highly impressed by
these experiments and thereafter considered Wilson's interpretations more favorably.
Nevertheless, Morgan was clearly opposed to the idea that chromosomes contain
specific hereditary units. The chromosomes can have an important role in the
determination of characters, but not necessarily as the carriers of genetic factors.
The two roles remain quite distinct. There are two different kinds of problems: (1)
102 B. FANTINI
the chromosomal determination of sex and (2) sex as a Mendelian factor. One
could accept the first without accepting the second. The epigenetic embryological
tradition was ready to accept the causal connection between chromosomes and
characters, but not the concept of the chromosomes as specific Mendelian factors.
Wilson eventually concluded that "sex production stands in some relation with the
chromosomes and can be treated from the stand point of Mendelian phenomena,
as interpreted by the Sutton-Boveri chromosome theory."4 But this was more an
act of faith, the endorsement of a new theory, than the result of empirical
demonstration. Wilson considered the chromosome as the Mendelian factor, "sex
determination being a matter of Mendelian dominance, more specifically of chro-
mosome dominance."
In contrast, Morgan rejected the simple version of chromosome theory as naive
given the small number of chromosomes compared to the large number of inherited
traits. He generalized his attack against the assumption that the nucleus must be
the bearer of the hereditary qualities of the male, arguing that "the protoplasm may
account for the results." For Morgan, sex was determined in some way more
complex than the action of a single element like the X-chromosome, in particular
by the action of the cytoplasm on the hereditary material or by the relationship
between nucleus and cytoplasm. In the period between 1894 and 1906 Morgan had
often invoked a gradient or polarity concept of substance in the formative phenomena,
in particular for regeneration. According to this theory, the fate of tissues was
determined by the concentration of some particular substances in the cytoplasm.
Morgan's critiques of chromosomal determination of sex were two-fold. First
the evidence was contradictory. Wilson's report that the spermatozoon having the
extra chromosome produces a female every time and that the one without it
produces a male was exactly the opposite of McClung's conclusion. Wilson and
Stevens had studied mostly insects and concluded that males were heterozygous
(XY) and females homozygous (XX) for the accessory chromosome. Punnett and
Raynor had worked primarily with moths and chickens and had found just the
opposite. Second, for Morgan the supposition was contradictory in itself because it
suggested that the same chromosome will be female-determining in one generation
and male-determining in the next.
As a consequence Morgan criticized "this modern way of referring everything
to the chromosomes".6 He decided in favor of the cytoplasmic determination of
hereditary phenomena. He argued that chromosomes might fuse completely during
the process of intertwining (synapsis), and thought that the union of two homologous
chromosomes during synapsis was as homogeneous as when two drops of water fuse
into one.7 In other words, for Morgan the chromosomes do not contain hereditary
information for individual characters of the embryo, but an embryo's hereditary
traits result from the interactions of materials produced by the "entire constellation
of chromosomes."8 At this moment Morgan again heralded an epigenetic view, and
stressed the importance of process as opposed to form. For him the chromosome
theory and Mendelian genetics demanded "a morphological basis in the germ for
the minutest phase (factor) of a definitive character." It is essentially a morphological
conception with but a trace of functional concern. Mendelism "utilizes not a single
finding of the science of biochemistsry . . . With an eye seeing only particles and a
speech only symbolizing them, there is no such thing as the study of process
possible".9 As E. S. Russell pointed out in 1930:
epigenesis and preformation represent two different attitudes to the problem of
development, arise from two fundamentally different philosophies. The epigenetic
CELL BIOLOGY AND HEREDITY 103
view is dynamic, vitalist, physiological; the preformationist is static, deterministic,
and morphological. The one stresses time or process, the other space and
momentary state — the one emphasizes function, the other concentrates on form.1"
Usually Morgan's attitude toward Mendelism prior to 1910 has been presented
as a reaction against the use of metaphysical concepts such as determinants,
idioplasm, biophores, micelles, etc. However, Morgan was also trying to generalize
the de Vriesian theory of mutation which was based on the concept of pangenes,
hereditary particles "in many respects analogous to the molecules of chemists/'12
Yet this kind of theorizing remained in the background because de Vries and
Morgan were trying to deduce hereditary and evolutionary laws by indirect methods,
such as breeding and selection of varieties. As an embryologist by training, Morgan
was quite accustomed to the concept of material hereditary particles, the idea that
the nucleus and the chromosomes in particular are directly involved in hereditary
transmission. From this point of view, he was looking for a material basis of
evolutionary jumps, suitable for experimental investigation. Therefore, his negative
attitude towards both Mendelian genetics and the chromosomal theory can be
attributed to the lack of scientific coherence between them. Only after the elucidation
of the phenomenon of chiasmatype could the connection between genetical and
cytological evidence be established and the idea of material factors governing
heredity and embryogenesis be openly accepted.
The turning point and the beginning of the fruit fly model was Morgan's own
studies on the "sex-limited" inheritance on Drosophila melanogaster. The appearance
of the white-eyed mutant suddenly shifted Morgan's interest from evolutionary
studies to heredity. The important fact was that this particular character, produced
by a mutation totally different from a de Vriesean mutation, not only appeared to
be a pure Mendelian character but also seemed clearly connected with sex inheritance.
In explaining these results Morgan could accept the basic structure of Mendelian
explanation and Wilson's and Stevens' idea that determination of sex has a
chromosomal basis. Even in 1909, before the discovery of the fly with white eyes,
Morgan assumed the role of a combination of hereditary factors. In order to explain
the deviations from Mendelian ratios observed in 1905 with yellow mice, Cuenot
had assumed the idea of selective fertilization proposed by Castle. In such a way no
yellow mouse would be obtained by breeding heterozygotes since yellow factors
from the sperm do not combine with yellow factors from the egg.
From his epigenetic point of view, Morgan could not accept that such trivial
differences as hair color could prevent the fertilization between gametes carrying
those colors. Morgan was thus skeptical about the Mendelian concept of purity of
gametes and their absolute segregation during cell divisions. In consequence, he
explained Cuenot's results by assuming that certain alleles always remained together
rather than segregating in a random fashion. His complex mechanism assumed that
yellow and gray "unit characters" stayed together in 50% of the offspring. One
major point of his chromosomal theory, namely linkage, was already present as a
formal concept before the discovery of the cytological phenomenon of chiasmata.
But it was used against the concept of the purity of gametes. Morgan at first rejected
both segregation and purity of gametes, accepting both only after his own results
on sex-linked characters and cytological evidence.
If adult characters are determined by hereditary particles on chromosomes then
a large number of traits must be inherited together, coupled. Coupling had already
been observed by Bateson, who explained it first with the theory of attraction and
repulsion and later with the theory of reduplication. The idea of "crossing-over"
104 B. FANTINI
based on Janssens' chiasmatype was an alternative to the complex cytological
mechanism introduced by Bateson. Morgan assumed at the same time that "the
materials that represent these factors are contained in the chromosomes" and that
these factors that "couple" lie near each other in a linear series. These couplings
can be separated by crossing over. The difference in the strength of the coupling
depends on "the linear distance apart of the chromosomal materials that represents
the factors." From this assumption it follows that the observed hereditary phenomena
"are a simple mechanical result of the location of the materials on the chromosome,
and of the method of union of homologous chromosomes." Mendelism is no longer
a logical construction or a numerical system but the result of the location of the
factors on the chromosomes.
Thus Morgan abandoned his agnosticism. For embryologists, the "sea urchin
people," the most important question was not so much how hereditary information
was transmitted from one generation to the following, but rather how that information
was translated into adult characters. For an embryologist, heredity is not a problem
but a prerequisite. Morgan abandoned that previous problem — how inherited
information is transformed into adult characters — to study genetics or the transmis-
sion of information. He moved from the sea urchin tradition to a new Drosophila
tradition.
Two comments are necessary. The first is that Morgan's attitude against
theoretical supposition, which he often used to reject the ideas of others, was freely
abandoned to accept a very powerful and innovative hypothesis. The second
comment is that the bridge between cytology and genetics which Morgan stressed
remained only a hope. The Drosophila group grasped the powerful idea of a linear
disposition of factors on the chromosome introduced by Morgan and developed by
Sturtevant. The group, especially the younger members who pushed Morgan in this
direction, considered the chromosomes as black boxes, or perhaps as a string of
black pearls.
Embryology for its part followed its own tradition without caring too much
about the success and the appeal of the new research program in genetics. In the
'30s Morgan returned to his first and greatest love, embryology. He felt the need
for a general text on the relationships between genetics and embryology, but openly
confessed to critics that he had discussed embryology and genetics, not their
relationships.13 Indeed no evidence was given by the Drosophila group about the
physiological nature of genes or the way in which they interact during embryonic
development. In the first decade of Mendelism, many scientists described factors in
biochemical and physiological terms, like Bateson's theory of presence-absence,
Castle's model of factor interaction, and G. S. Shull's explanation of the multiple
characters phenomenon. However, the Drosophila group pushed this point into the
background, as a problem too difficult to explain at the moment.
Embryology could not be interested in that kind of theory. Strong epigenetic
attitudes and physiological models were directing embryology towards other con-
cerns— that is organizer theories and chemical embryology, new forms of physiological
morphology. Chemical embryology was in fact looking for a chemical explanation
of morphogenetic movements, using may different substances as stimuli. Embryol-
ogists were more concerned with the larger changes in the whole organism than
with the lesser qualities known to be associated with genetic action. As E. E. Just14
said, embryologists were much more interested in the back than in the bristles on
the back and more in how the eyes are built than in how they acquire their color.
In the decades of triumph of the chromosome theory, embryology was in a
period of depression and the great expectations of the 1 890's and the first decade of
CELL BIOLOGY AND HEREDITY 105
the twentieth century were replaced by a sense of impotence towards the difficulties
of understanding development.
There was a time of discouragement. . . . The fertility of the soil seemed to have
suddenly run out and tillage no longer worth while. What, more human, then,
than the gold rush to genetics and general physiology?15
Many embryological experiments seemed to stress the role of the cytoplasm in
differentiation. The destruction of the cytoplasm brought about serious disturbances
of normal development, but the nucleus could be transplanted without such
disturbance, at least in the earliest stages. The role of the nucleus seemed to be
secondary for early cleavage and in the metabolism of the embryo, becoming
important only for morphogenetic movements. Embryology, according to its own
tradition, concentrated on both the nucleus and the cytoplasm; and "The prestige
of success enjoyed by the gene theory might easily become a hindrance to the
understanding of development by directing our attention solely to the genome,
whereas cell movements, differentiation and in fact all developmental processes are
actually effected by the cytoplasm/'16
In contrast, the Drosophila group notwithstanding Morgan's earlier emphasis,
concentrated on the nucleus, and more precisely on the chromosomes, focusing
exclusively on the transmissional aspects of heredity. The cell, with its biochemistry
and physiology, was considered a black box. Study of the egg produced no scientific
success and therefore was considered non-scientific for the Drosophila group. Even
if the problem of a biochemical and physiological description of the transformation
of the egg into an adult is very important and, "there can be no question of the
paramount importance of finding out what takes place during development," we
cannot tell how much this information may lead to a better understanding of the
chromosome theory. "For a knowledge of the chemistry of all the pigments in an
animal or plant might still be very far removed from an understanding of the
chemical constitution of the hereditary factors by whose activities these pigments
are ultimately produced."17
The central problem of embryology in genetic terms was how embryonic cells
arising from the same zygote and therefore sharing the same genetic constitutions
develop along different lines during tissue differentiation. Even in 1935 this problem,
the triggering mechanism of the expression of the genes, was felt to be inaccessible
to scientific research. Many alternatives remained possible and Morgan in his Nobel
Lecture confessed "that we must wait until experiments can be devised to help us
to discriminate between these different possibilities."18 Morgan, in order to reach a
scientific theory of genetic transmission, had to abandon, for a while, his own
tradition and interests to build a new tradition. Thus he abandoned the sea urchin
in favor of the fruit fly.19
LITERATURE CITED
0 Morgan to Dreisch. 23 November 1910. Quoted in ALLEN. 1978. Thomas Hunt Morgan. The Man and
His Science. Princeton University Press, Princeton. P. 153.
1 ALLEN, GARLAND. 1978. Thomas Hunt Morgan. The Man and His Science. Princeton University Press,
Princeton.
2 MORGAN, T. H. 1910. Chromosomes and heredity. Am. Nat. 44: 449-496:461.
3 WILSON, E. B. 1905. The chromosomes in relation to the determination of sex in insects. Science 22:
500-502:502.
4 WILSON, E. B. 1907. Sex determination in relation to fertilization and parthenogenesis. Science 25: 376-
379:376.
5 Morgan to Driesch, 23 October 1905, quoted in G. ALLEN (footnote 1 ), p. 137.
106 B. FANTINI
6 Morgan to Driesch (footnote 5).
7 T. H. MORGAN (footnote 2).
s T. H. MORGAN (footnote 2).
9 MORGAN, T. H. 1909. Recent experiments on the inheritance of coat colors in mice. Am. Nat. 43: 449-
510:510.
10 RUSSELL, E. S. 1930. The Interpretation of Development and Heredity. Clarendon Press, Oxford. P.
121.
11 MORGAN, T. H. 1907. Sex determining factors in animals. Science 25: 382-384:384.
12 DE VRIES, H. Intracellulere Pangenesis. Gustav Fischer, Jena 1897 (Eng. Transl. Intracellulur Pangenesis,
Open Court, Chicago 1910).
13 Quoted by G. ALLEN (footnote 1), p. 300.
14 JUST, quoted by R. G. HARRISON. 1937. Embryology and its relations. Science 85: 369-374:372.
15 R. G. HARRISON, manuscript 1925, quoted by Harrison (footnote 14), p. 370.
15 R. G. HARRISON, (footnote 14), p. 372.
17 MORGAN, T. H., A. H. STURTEVANT, H. J. MULLER, AND C. B. BRIDGES. 1915. The Mechanism of
Mendelian Heredity. Henry Holt, New York. P. 227.
18 MORGAN, T. H. 1935. The relation of genetics to physiology and medicine. Nobel Lecture, Sci. Monthly
41: 5-18.
19 Footnote 17, p. 227.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 107-121. (June, 1985)
HEREDITY UNDER AN EMBRYOLOGICAL PARADIGM: THE CASE
OF GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY
GARLAND E. ALLEN
Department of Biology, Washington University. St. Louis, Missouri 63130
INTRODUCTION
In examining the history of genetics at the Marine Biological Laboratory (MBL),
a curious paradox emerges: although the leader of the classical school of Mendelian
heredity in the United States, Thomas Hunt Morgan (1866-1945), was a long-
standing summer investigator at the MBL and brought his Drosophila research
group to Woods Hole every summer from 1912 through 1940s, genetics as such
never became incorporated into official MBL work. There were few other geneticists
regularly at the Marine Biological Laboratory other than Morgan and his students;
and, genetics did not get incorporated into the courses of instruction at the
Laboratory (it still is not a separate course today). At the same time, embryology,
so closely related conceptually and historically to the study of heredity, was from
the beginning, and still remains today an official mainstay of the MBL's research
and instructional program. Why should embryology have remained such a strong
part of MBL work while genetics never really achieved the same status? Was this a
local phenomenon peculiar to the MBL, or was it a reflection of some more general,
intellectual and/or social trend within biology in the period after the rediscovery of
Mendel in 1900? In attempting to answer these questions I was led to consider the
larger issue of the historical relationship between genetics and embryology in the
United States (and, to some extent, internationally as well) in the early decades of
the twentieth century. What begins as an issue in the specific history of the Marine
Biological Laboratory, broadens into the larger question of the history of twentieth
century biology.
In the present paper I will explore (1) the early history of the relationship
between genetics and embryology from 1890 to 1910; (2) the growing divergence
between the two fields during the period to 1940, and (3) the role that T. H. Morgan
himself played in creating the divergence between genetics and embryology; and
finally (4) how the various factors may have been influential in causing Morgan to
shift his position so profoundly. At the end of the paper, I will come back to the
original paradox with regard to the MBL and suggest why, on an institutional level,
the relationship between genetics and embryology seemed to mirror what was
occurring on the national level.
Focussing on the role of Thomas Hunt Morgan in this historical analysis has
several advantages. First, Morgan's career spanned the period during which embryol-
ogy and heredity went from the holistic and unified, to the more restricted and
limited view. Second, Morgan was, himself, a major architect of the split that
occurred between genetics and embryology. Although he began his scientific career
as an embryologist, and to some extent always remained one, he was willing to
separate the study of genetics from that of embryology during a major segment of
his career. Third, focusing on the work of a single individual allows a more in-
depth analysis and the emergence of a more clear picture of the interrelationships
of historical, social, and intellectual factors than would be possible, in the confines
107
108 G. E. ALLEN
of a single paper, if I included a large number of investigators, or a wider range of
problems.
THE UNIFIED VIEW OF HEREDITY: 1 890- 1910
Following the lead of Charles Darwin and others, many late 19th and early 20th
century biologists chose to construct synthetic theories that related the processes of
genetic transmission to those of embryonic differentiation and development. Theo-
rizers such as Ernst Haeckel (1834-1919) and August Weismann (1834-1914) saw
the vertical process of "transmission" from parent to offspring and the horizontal
process of "translation" of heredity potential into adult traits as part of the same
fundamental process. At the same time, they made no distinction between what we
would call today genotype and phenotype; rather they saw the two as inseparable,
a division between potentiality and actuality as meaningless. They also saw cell
nucleus and cytoplasm as an integrated whole as one constantly interacting system,
each component inconceivable without the other. The theories of Haeckel and
Weismann were stimulating in their synthetic power, and recognized a reality —
namely that the processes of genetic transmission, embryonic development, and
evolution of species were interrelated, an interrelationship all biologists, young and
old, recognized.
However, as many younger biologists around the turn of the century complained,
the methods of Weismann, Haeckel, and others generated theories which were non-
testable, and thus could never be verified or disproven. As long as biologists indulged
in this kind of theory-making, some younger investigators argued, biology would
never gain a solid base as a hard science such as physics or chemistry. As I have
shown elsewhere (Allen, 1978b) T. H. Morgan was among those younger biologists
who sought more experimental and rigorous methods for pursuing biological
problems.
While Morgan and his contemporaries rejected the speculative methods of his
predecessors (including his teacher at Johns Hopkins, W. K. Brooks) they retained
from them the unified view of heredity — a process embodying both genetic trans-
mission and embryonic development. In 1910 Morgan wrote:
We have come to look upon the problem of heredity as identical with the
problem of development. The word heredity stands for those properties of the
germ cells that find their expression in the developing and developed organism.
When we speak of the transmission of characters from parent to offspring, we
are speaking metaphorically; for we now realize that it is not characters that are
transmitted to the child from the body of the parent but that the parent carries
over the material, to both parent and offspring [Morgan, 1910a: p. 449].
His friend from both Hopkins and MBL days, Edwin Grant Conklin (1863-1952),
held similar views. Indeed, Conklin felt strongly that the problem of heredity was
the central issue of biology, as he stated clearly in 1908:
Indeed, heredity is not a peculiar or unique principle for it is only similarity
of growth and differentiation in successive generations. ... In fact the whole
process of development is one of growth and differentiation, and similarity of
these in parents and offspring constitutes hereditary likeliness. The causes of
heredity are thus reduced to the causes of successive differentiation of development,
and the mechanism of heredity is merely the mechanism of differentiation
[Conklin, 1908: pp. 89-90].
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 109
Conklin introduces his discussion by claiming:
Heredity is today the central problem of biology. This problem may be
approached from many sides — that of the breeder, the experimenter, the statistician,
the physiologist, the embryologist, the cytologist — but the mechanism of heredity
can be studied best by the investigation of the germ cells and their development
[Conklin, 1908: pp. 89-90].
It is clear that for Morgan and Conklin, of all the approaches to heredity, the
embryological conception was the most important and fruitful.
As part of his adherance to the unified concept of heredity, Morgan attacked
the Mendelian and chromosome theories of heredity as isolating one component of
the hereditary process from the other, and thus smacking of artificiality. In 1909
Morgan attacked the Mendelian theory for being preformationist, overly concerned
with particles, and not with the actual process by which hereditary traits are
manifested in the adult. As he wrote:
The nature of Mendelian interpretation and description inextricably commits
to the 'doctrine of particles' in the germ and elsewhere. It demands a 'morpho-
logical' basis in the germ for the minutest phase (factor) of a definitive character.
It is essentially a morphological conception with but a trace of functional feature.
With an eye seeing only particles and a speech only symbolizing them, there is
no such thing as a study of a process possible. ... It has been possible. I think,
to show by means of what we know of the genesis of these color characters that
the Mendelian description — of color inheritance at least — has strayed very wide
of the facts; it has put factors in the germ cells that it is now quite certainly our
privilege to remove; it is declared a discontinuity where there is now evident
epigenesis [Morgan, 1909: p. 509].
In the following year he criticized the chromosome theory in much the same terms:
It may be said in general that the particulate theory is the more picturesque
or artistic conception of the developmental process. As a theory it has in the past
dealt largely in symbolism and is inclined to make hard and fast distinctions. It
seems to better satisfy a class of type of mind that asks for a finalistic solution,
even though the solution be truly formal. But the very intellectual security that
follows in the train of such theories seems to me less stimulating for further
research than does the restlessness of spirit that is associated with the alternative
[that is epigenetic or embryological] conception [Morgan, 1910, pp. 451-452].
What was telling to any embryologist, according to Morgan, was the propensity for
those adhering to particulate theories to speak of adult traits as if they actually
resided, in miniature within the fertilized egg. This was preformationism at
its worst.
Just as Morgan opposed localizing the adult trait in a particle, hypothetical or
real, he also opposed focusing largely on the cell nucleus as the seat of all genetic
and developmental events. Those who looked to the nucleus alone, were ignoring
the cytoplasm which "was the seat of the really interesting events [in embryogenesis]"
(Morgan, 1897: p. 121). In these words Morgan was rejecting the recent studies by
Boveri, E. B. Wilson, and many others which claimed that it was the nucleus, and
specifically the chromosomes, which were the major determiners of the hereditary
process.
Thus, to Morgan, as an embryologist in the early twentieth century, the problems
of genetic transmission and embryonic development were inseparable. Learning
about transmission of information between parents and offspring was of no value
1 10 G. E. ALLEN
without also learning about the development of the trait into its ultimate adult
form. Quite literally, as Scott Gilbert has emphasized (1978), the Mendelian theory
developed by the Morgan school began with solid roots in the field of embryology.
After 1910, however, Morgan began to reverse his position, and by 1926 had
come to accept (indeed, in many respects, create) the rigorous separation of the
problems of hereditary transmission from those of embryonic development. In his
book. The Theory of the Gene (1926), Morgan's new position is clear:
Between the characters, that furnish the data for the theory [that is, Mendelian
theory] and the postulated genes, to which the characters are referred, lies the
whole field of embryonic development. The theory of the gene, as here formulated,
states nothing with respect to the way in which the genes are connected with the
end-product, or character. The absence of information relating to this interval
does not mean that the process of embryonic development is not of interest for
genetics . . . but the fact remains that the sorting out of the characters in
successive generations can be explained at present without reference to the way
in which the gene affects the developmental process [Morgan, 1926: p. 26].
Morgan continued to believe in and even give acknowledgment to, the relationships
between genetic transmission and embryonic development. But he did not know
how to study this relationship in a concrete and experimental way. Hence, he settled
for a distinct separation between the two. Although Morgan himself attempted to
synthesize the two fields in Embryology and Genetics (1934), he was remarkably
unsuccessful. But at least he admitted the difficulty of affecting a real synthesis.
When a colleague told him of his disappointment in not seeing a synthesis between
embryology and genetics in the book, Morgan is reported to have said: "Well, what
did you expect? I did exactly what I said I would do in the title: I discussed
embryology and I discussed genetics."
We now turn to the question of what factors affected Morgan's change from the
more synthetic and holistic to the more analytical and restricted notion of heredity
between 1910 and 1925.
FACTORS INFLUENCING MORGAN'S SEPARATION OF GENETICS
FROM EMBRYOLOGY, 1910-1925
Several factors, both specific and general, contributed to Morgan's redefinition
of the concept of heredity, and thus his separation of the study of transmission
(genetics) from that of translation (embryology). Among the most prominent specific
factors were the success of the Mendelian and chromosome theories in explaining
his own work with Drosophila (after 1910), and his introduction to the genotype-
phenotype conception of Wilhelm Johannsen in 1911. Among the general factors
were Morgan's committment to mechanistic, materialistic (and physico-chemical)
philosophy, his desire to establish a new field of biology with definite aims and
boundaries, and, finally, the agricultural revolution in the United States that made
funds available for genetic (as opposed to embryological) work, thus giving direction
to research in transmission that went far and above that available for work in other
areas of biology such as embryology. Let us see how each of these factors contributed
to Morgan's change of position.
First, the specific factors. When Morgan published his first paper on the white-
eyed mutant Drosophila (1910b), he made a clear interpretation of its inheritance
pattern in Mendelian terms. He refrained, however, from associating the "factor"
for eye color directly with the sex (X) chromosome. In the ensuing year, however,
as more mutants were discovered and their patterns of transmission established.
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 1 1 1
Morgan quickly embraced the chromosome theory as well. The work of the Morgan
group from 191 1 onward, especially the study of sex-linked traits and chromosome
mapping, provided the sort of material basis for the Mendelian theory that had
been lacking, at least in Morgan's view, previously. Moreover, the association of
Mendelian breeding results with the cytological studies of chromosome behavior
and structure, had yielded what Lindley Darden and Nancy Maull termed an
"interfield theory" of great predictive power (Darden and Maull, 1977). Moreover,
by admitting that the material basis of heredity resides in the chromosomes, Morgan
was forced to give the nucleus a greater role in the hereditary life of the cell than
he had previously been willing to do. In fact, so complete was Morgan's change of
view on the relative roles of nucleus and cytoplasm in governing the process of
"heredity," that by 1919 he could write in a letter to his friend Jacques Loeb,
that he wanted to dispel particularly the still-prevalent notion of "cytoplasmic in-
heritance:"
It is this point [cytoplasmic inheritance] that I am anxious to go for, because
of its widespread belief among biologists in general for which I can find absolutely
no real basis except an emotional one. It is for this reason mainly that I have
not hesitated to hold up as examples two of my best friends and a very famous
German investigator [Morgan to Loeb, 14 May 1919; Loeb Papers, Library of
Congress].
In the face of the extraordinary work on Drosophila, the idea of cytoplasmic
influence on determination of any adult traits seemed to lose all force.
A second specific influence that seems to have been important in Morgan's
development was his explicit recognition of the genotype-phenotype distinction as
examined by Wilhelm Johannsen in his book of 1909, but especially in his paper
for the American Naturalist of 191 1. The content and polymical nature of Johannsen's
paper, as well as its historical significance, have been well analyzed by two recent
scholars, Fred Churchill (1974) and Jan Sapp (1984). Churchill was the first to point
out that Johannsen made a distinction between the horizontal and vertical concepts
of heredity, while Sapp was the first to emphasize that Johannsen's paper was a
specific polemic against the phenotype conception, which he claimed was not
amenable to rigorous experimental or mathematical analysis. To Johannsen, the
phenotype was a horizontal concept, which, in terms of Ernst Haeckel's biogenetic
law, was essentially an historical view. That is, the phenotype was the result of a
long evolutionary process in which the ontogenetic development of the individual,
interacting with its environment, produced the final appearance of the adult form.
However, what was important to Johannsen was the underlying mechanism by
which the phenotype was determined irrespective of environmental differences. The
genotype concept was thus a vertical, and purposely ahistorical, view. To Johannsen,
trained as a chemist, Mendelian genes had to be regarded as unchangeable entities,
analogous to the atoms of chemistry. Just as atoms combine and recombine into
various molecules, but nonetheless retain their individual properties, so too could
genes combine and recombine in different genotypes in successive generations, and
yet retain their own individuality. A gene for white eye remained a gene for white
eye even when masked for a generation or two with a dominant gene for red eye.
To Johannsen, "the fundamental nature of heredity lay hidden deep within the
gamete." Only by the use of analytical and experimental methods could the nature
of heredity be discovered, and the laws used for predictive purposes. Johannsen
made a clear and explicit separation between the field of heredity and that of
embryology. Heredity passes through the germ line only, in accordance with
112 G. E. ALLI-N
Weismann's germ-plasm theory, and deals only with the genotype. Embryology, on
the other hand, embodies the influence of environment as well as the whole past
history of the species, and thus deals only with the phenotype. To make heredity
amenable to experimental, analytical, and mathematical methods, Johannsen argued
that the proper sphere of study was the genes within the gametes, and not the final
expressed potential of the adult phenotype.
It is clear that Morgan must have learned about Johannsen's genotype-phenotype
distinction by late 1910 or early 1911. Both men were present at the Princeton
meeting of the American Society of Naturalists on 19 December 1910, where they
participated in a symposium entitled "Study of Pure Lines of Genotypes/' Morgan,
Johannsen, and a number of other biologists addressed the genotype conception of
heredity and evaluated this notion for the present study of genetics. At this
conference, Johannsen gave his now-famous paper, "The Genotype Conception of
Heredity," (Johannsen, 1911), and Morgan spoke on sex-limited inheritance and
sexual dimorphism (Morgan, 1911). Furthermore, Johannsen was invited to spend
part of the winter term of 191 1 at Columbia, where it is highly unlikely that he and
Morgan would not have met and discussed their mutual interests in the problems
of the emerging new field of genetics. As early as 1913 Morgan makes reference to
Johannsen's work in Heredity in Sex (Morgan, 1913) and again similar references
appear in Mechanism of Me ndelian Heredity (Morgan el al, 1915). Although
Morgan does not say it in so many words, I think it is safe to infer that Johannsen's
phenotype-genotype distinction provided an important conceptual foundation for
Morgan's growing awareness of the distinction that could be, and needed to be
made, between genetics and embryology.
Among the more general factors influencing Morgan's separation of genetics
and embryology was his long-standing committment to the philosophy of mechanistic
materialism. Morgan had enthusiastically embraced the new mechanistic biology
beginning as early as 1891 upon first meeting the German-born mechanistic
philosopher Jacques Loeb when they both joined the faculty of the biology
department at Bryn Mawr College that year. Later, as a result of his visits to the
Stazione Zoologica in Naples, and particularly his association there with another
German, Hans Driesch, Morgan's mechanistic views were renewed and strengthened
with new experimental embryology. To Morgan, the mechanistic materialist philos-
ophy meant belief in the material existence of the world, its structure in terms of
separate and separable components, and the method of analysis, in which complex
processes could be broken down into their simpler components and studied
independently, under controlled conditions. This meant, of course, using rigorous
experimental methods, and, at least in its early twentieth-century form, a committ-
ment to a kind of physico-chemical reductionism. Morgan was not as highly
reductionist as Loeb, for he always had a feel for the whole organism that prevented
him from embracing naive views equating the organism with a machine, or a "bag
of enzymes." The key element in Morgan's mechanistic materialist philosophy, at
least for understanding his willingness to go against his own earlier beliefs and
separate genetics and embryology, is analysis. To Morgan, experiments only made
sense in an analytical framework. If conditions could not be controlled, and the
effects of complex systems could not be studied in isolation, then rigorous biology
was not possible. It was essential to take complex processes and break them down
into their component parts. The older, more inclusive concept of heredity was thus
not amenable to mechanistic analysis. No satisfactory experimental techniques had
been developed to isolate and study the process of embryonic differentiation — how
it was controlled at the cellular, tissue, and organ-system level. However, with the
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 113
advent of the Drosophila work, at least one component of the broad view of
heredity, namely, transmission from parent to offspring, suddenly became amenable
to experimental and analytical methods. Though Morgan may have been predisposed
to retain the broader definition of heredity, the newer techniques, compatible as
they were with his basic philosophical orientation toward experimentation, dictated
separating the broad definition into its simpler parts. The result was that Morgan
focused on the transmission side of heredity for the next fifteen years.
Another general factor stimulating the rapid growth of the Mendelian chromosome
theory, as opposed to embryology, was the American agricultural revolution taking
place around the turn of the century. In the post-Civil War period, a number of
changes had occurred in United States' economic and social organization which
directly affected agricultural production. The most important was the rapid devel-
opment of industry, which led to migration of workers from the farms and rural
areas to the great centers of industrial production. The resulting urbanization created
a great demand for food, but at the same time meant there were now fewer hands
working the land. By the turn of the century, major financiers had turned their eyes
toward the profitability of managed, large-scale agriculture. This meant, among
other things, the development of new, faster-growing or higher-yielding crops.
"Scientific agriculture" was not new at this time, but the form in which science was
applied to agriculture had begun to change.
In the latter half of the nineteenth century, from Justes von Liebig onward,
much research had been put into what was loosely called "agricultural chemistry."
This field involved the scientific study of soils, the development of natural and
chemical fertilizers, the production of animal feeds, attention to animal and plant
nutrition, etc. While these efforts had yielded some major increases in productivity,
by the late nineteenth century they had reached a limit in both extent and
profitability. Fertilizers or feed additives, for instance, had to be added continually
to keep up production levels. This was not so, however, with scientific breeding.
The results of good breeding had a very different economic potential. In 1910 U. S.
Secretary of Agriculture, James Wilson, argued openly for the study of heredity as
a way of developing a more economically profitable agriculture. Writing in the
opening pages of the newly founded American Breeders Magazine, Wilson noted
that both fertilizers and animal nutritive feeds must be reapplied year after year to
have the desired effects, whereas the hereditary effects obtained through scientific
breeding were self perpetuating: "Heredity is a force more subtle and more
marvelous than electricity. Once generated it needs no additional force to sustain
it. Once new breeding values are created they continue as permanent economic
forces." (Wilson, 1910: p. 5). Wilson then goes on to make his point more explicit.
But the cost of improvements through breeding usually represents only a
small fraction of the added values. The increase of products secured pays the
price in a short time, and, since there is no further expense, the annual increase
afterward is clear profit. The farmer will be able to retain a part of the larger
production in the form of added profit and part will help to reduce the cost of
living to those in the cities. Larger production on the farm will also give increased
business to the transportation company, the manufacturer, and the merchant,
and will provide the nation the larger product with which to hold our balance of
trade. [Ibid.]
Wilson's enthusiasm was not mere political rhetoric. There was a widespread
belief, partly catalyzed by the rediscovery of Mendel's laws in 1 900, that the science
of breeding was off to a new and momentous start. As Charles Rosenberg has
1 14 G. E. ALLEN
shown, the new genetics found an especially warm welcome in many state agricultural
experiment stations, and agricultural schools (Rosenberg, 1976a, b). And, though
the payoffs were not always as dramatic as Secretary Wilson and others initially
imagined, the new genetics did contribute profoundly to the development of
agriculture in the United States. The work of investigators such as Donald Jones
(Connecticut Agricultural Station), E. M. East and later Paul Mangelsdorf (Harvard's
Bussey Institution, devoted to practical and ornamental breeding), Charles Zeleny
(University of Illinois), L. J. Stadler and Barbara McClintock (University of
Missouri), and R. A. Emerson at Cornell (initially a state agricultural college) was
all carried out in a specific agricultural context, and in many cases led directly to
some practical agricultural gains (hybrid corn being one of the most notable).
That all of this was not lost on genetics, and even Morgan in particular, is
evidenced by the fact that in 1918 E. B. Babcock and R. E. Clausen published one
of the first and most widely used applied genetics texts, Genetics in Relation to
Agriculture, dedicated, appropriately, to Morgan. In the Introduction to that book
Babcock and Clausen state clearly the economic importance of applying known
genetic principles to agricultural breeding:
Of all the sciences that contribute to the great . . . composite which is known
as agriculture none is more important economically than genetics. . . . Without
doubt vast possibilities await realization through the more thorough and systematic
development of our living economic resources. Such development is directly
dependent on the successful utilization of genetic principles in plant and animal
breeding. The science of genetics is still very young, but it is firmly established
and is developing rapidly. It claims the attention of the producer of today and
invites the most serious study of the agriculturists of tomorrow [Babcock and
Clausen, 1918: pp. vii].
That Morgan agreed with these principles is clearly demonstrated by a memorandum
that he sent to various geneticists around this same time, outlining plans for a
department of genetics at Columbia University. In the opening paragraphs of that
outline, Morgan stated:
Until within recent years scientific agriculture has to do almost solely with
the feeding of plants and animals. This condition arose from the fact that the
persons who first became interested in developing a science of agriculture were
chemists. To increase the productiveness of domesticated plants and animals by
the use of fertilizers and properly proportion rations has been the goal of the
great bulk of scientific work in agriculture. It is now evident, however, that this
is only one side, and fundamentally the least important side, of the matter. What
an animal or a plant produces is fundamentally determined by what that plant
or animal is. The innate hereditary constitution of the individual and the race is
the basis on which all improved feeding and fertilizing must end. The science of
genetics (or breeding) is fundamental for all agriculture [From Morgan Folder,
Raymond Pearl Papers, American Philosophical Society Library; no date on
manuscript].
It must be remembered that Morgan was also one of the early members of the
American Breeders Association, and attended at least two of their meetings (St.
Louis, Missouri, December, 1903, and Columbia, Missouri, January, 1909) (Kim-
melman, 1983: p. 194).
Funding patterns in the first decade of the twentieth century suggest that
considerably more money was becoming available for agriculture-related research
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 115
than had been true in previous years. For example, the United States Department
of Agriculture and the State Agricultural Experiment Station were both centers for
Mendelian research after 1901. In addition, many states were developing agricultural
experiment stations of their own where none had existed before (Rosenberg, 1976a,
b). And, private foundations turned toward agriculture. In setting funding priorities
for the newly established Carnegie Institution of Washington (1902), Andrew
Carnegie was particularly interested in supporting the work of Luther Burbank. His
reasons were explicitly that Burbank's much publicized new methods of grafting
would have important economic results. At almost the same time the Carnegie
Institution also funded Charles B. Davenport's Station for the Experimental Study
of Evolution at Cold Spring Harbor, founded in 1904 with an initial grant of
$34,250. By 1918 the annual budget for the Station had risen to $60,000, and by
1935 to $115,000. While all of the research carried out at the Station was not all
directly agricultural, Davenport's initial goal and continued purpose always remained
to study the factors influencing heredity and breeding in a variety of animals and
plants. And, after 1915, Morgan's work with Drosophila was funded by the Carnegie
Institution of Washington (starting with annual grants of $3,600 between 1915 and
1919, and jumping to an annual average of $12,000 from 1920 through 1934).
The funding for embryology, in contrast, was significantly less. The Carnegie
Institution of Washington made its first grant for embryology in 1913, to F. P. Mall
at the Anatomical Institute of Johns Hopkins University, for a total of $15,000.
Perhaps more than anything else this comparison suggests why pursuit of the study
of hereditary transmission had a certain immediacy to it which the study of
embryology lacked.
I suggest, therefore, that around the turn of the century there was more than
passing academic or intellectual interest in the study of heredity. Hereditary
transmission had a practical, economic imperative which perhaps encouraged its
isolation from other related problems such as embryonic development. It was this
atmosphere that may have given some impetus, even indirectly, to the redefinition
of heredity effected by Morgan and his followers after 1910. Let me emphasize
clearly, however, that I am not suggesting that Morgan or other Mendelian geneticists
raced toward the study of genetic transmission merely for financial gain. I am
suggesting that the availability of funds does influence the direction for research
programs when the programs can be carried out with new techniques and concepts.
The important point I am trying to raise here is that the context for determining
the availability of funds was not merely the academic and intellectual interest
inherent in one or another field. It was more related to the social and economic
imperatives present in the society at large, which encouraged funding in certain
areas to a far greater extent than others.
At a more sociological level, the splitting of transmission genetics from embryonic
development had an important practical consequence within the scientific community.
It allowed Morgan, his immediate followers, and others who took up the Mendelian-
chromosome theory, to define a new and separate field of investigation. Between
1910 and 1925 the Mendelian-chromosome theory became what Irmre Lakatos
calls a full-fledged research program (Lakatos, 1970). Lakatos has emphasized that
research programs not only consist of concepts but also of methods of research (in
this case, for example, breeding coupled with cytological observations), standard
protocols (for example the use of pure strains for breeding, or the correlation
between breeding and cytological data), and philosophical methods, including the
notion of what is proper explanation in a field (for example, mechanistic vs. holistic
116 G. E. ALLEN
interpretation; or the role of quantitative and mathematical thinking in scientific
explanation). By establishing a research program, Lakatos points out, scientific
workers define their fields and problems, thus influencing the direction of future
research and the development of field-wide methods for dealing with challenges to
accepted orthodoxy. For example, Morgan and his group not only rigorously defined
the problems which were to become the future focus of genetic research, but also
established an orthodoxy which focused almost exclusively on the cell nucleus as
the center of heredity. Any attempts to discuss cytoplasmic inheritance (or what
was sometimes referred to as "maternal effects") were strongly discouraged. Jan
Sapp has studied the history of this subject exhaustively, and has shown how those
who sought to publish on cytoplasmic inheritance, such as Tracy Sonnenborn and
later his student, David Nanney, at first found their papers rejected by orthodox
genetic journals (Sonneborn, 1978).
Sapp applied the idea of struggle for authority among competing fields, as
developed by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (1975), specifically to the case of
nuclear versus cytoplasmic genetics in the early twentieth century (Sapp, 1984).
Bourdieu's idea is that scientific fields, or research programs in the Lakatosian
sense, are in competition with other fields for money, students, and the opportunity
to control academic or research positions. The competition is most keen among
closely related fields, but exists to one degree or another between all fields. In
Bourdieu's model, scientific authority, or competence, is understood as the socially
recognized legitimacy of the individual to speak and act on scientific matters. The
content of scientific ideas is thus seen as related to the social reality of establishing
a professional niche, that is, a research program. Thus, Bourdieu sees the choice for
pursuing certain theories over others, as well as the manner in which the theories
are put forward, as an integral part of the social context among competing fields.
Applied to the development of genetics and its separation from embryology,
Bourdieu's idea suggests the following scenario: as Mendelian genetics began to have
some success dealing with the process of transmission, it became advantageous to
begin determining the boundaries of the new field — that is, to establish its problems
and its scope. This meant for Morgan and his group that it became increasingly
advantageous to eliminate from the study of heredity itself the knotty problems of
embryonic development with which Morgan himself (and others) had had little
experimental success. By so doing, Morgan was able to outline what appeared to be
a successful and easily approachable field of scientific endeavor. Had he insisted on
working simultaneously with the problems of the development of phenotype and
transmission of the genotype, it is doubtful that the field could have developed in
any clear-cut way. Although he himself never renounced either his interest in
embryology, or his belief that the Mendelian gene ultimately had to be interpreted
in embryological terms, Morgan was pragmatic enough to see the advantage of
pushing embryology aside for the time being. Developing the new field of Mendelian
genetics with a strong central focus (transmission, assortment, and recombination),
a set of research techniques, and most importantly some clear and immediate
results, Morgan was able to attract attention, students, and (ultimately) research
money in a way that would have been impossible had he insisted on studying
heredity in the older, more holistic way. Morgan thus drew a boundary between the
new field of genetics and the old field of embryonic development. Everything within
the boundary was included in the new research program; those who would try to
force upon the Mendelian-chromosome theory the burden of explaining embryonic
development were told to become (or remain) "embryologists."
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 117
In putting forth this analysis I do not wish to suggest that Morgan or his group
made such choices consciously, or were acting in a particularly ruthless or opportunist
way to exclude certain topics from their new research program. I do want to suggest,
however, that the conscious and subconscious aspects of what it means to establish
a new field of research and to gain the recognition, money, and students which can
result, is not a negligible factor in what constitutes the formation of a scientific
research program. After all, research programs are more than merely good ideas.
They involve techniques, equipment, laboratories, people, the desire for individual
recognition, and money, all of which have some direct influence on the content
and direction of the scientific ideas themselves.
ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION
To return to the beginning of our paper, the question still remains: why did
genetics not enter the mainstream of MBL courses or research? If the above analysis
is correct — namely, that genetics was highly favored by funding patterns and by its
adherence to mechanistic and experimental and analytical lines — it would have
seemed all the more likely that it would have played a prominent role at the MBL.
Here, I think, institutional factors peculiar at the MBL in the 1920s and '30s played
a major part.
From its inception, the MBL had been a bastion of embryology and the
attendant holistic definition of heredity inhertied from the nineteenth century.
C. O. Whitman, founder and first Director of the MBL, was a morphologist and
Haeckelian while pioneering the newer methods of cell lineage and experimentation.
In addition, several of Morgan's contemporaries at the MBL objected to the new
"genotypic" definition of heredity which Morgan was championing. In 1916 Jacques
Loeb pointed out the difficult implications for embryology of the new work in
heredity.
The difficulties besetting the biologist in this problem [harmonious interaction
of parts of an organism] have been rather increased than diminished by the
discovery of Mendelian heredity, according to which each character is transmitted
independently of any other character. Since the number of Mendelian characters
in each organism is large, the posibility must be faced that the organism is merely
a mosaic of independent hereditary characters. If this be the case the question
arises: What moulds these independent characters into a harmonious whole?
[Loeb, 1916: pp. v-vi]
A decade later F. R. Lillie, then Director of the MBL, clearly pointed out his
objections to the new Mendelian conception of the gene with respect to embryological
processes:
I do not know of any sustained attempt to apply the modern theory of the
gene to the problem of embryonic segregation. As the matter stands, this is one
of the most serious limitations of the theory of the gene considered as a theory
of the organism. We should, of course, be careful to avoid the implication that
in its future development the theory of the gene may not be able to advance into
this unconquered territory. But I do not see any expectation that this will be
possible, even in principle, as long as the theory of the integrity of the entire
gene system [i.e., that all genes are present, or at least active] in all cells is
maintained. If this is a necessary part of the gene theory, the phenomena of
118 G. E. ALLEN
embryonic segregation must, I think, lie beyond the range of genetics [Lillie,
1927:' p. 366].
Lillie even went on to claim that he did not foresee a future synthesis possible — at
least in the late nineteenth century (by which he meant Weismannian) sense — given
the new view of geneticists about what constituted heredity (Lillie, 1927: p. 367).
Another critic of the Morgan school was Morgan's old friend and colleague, both
from Woods Hole and Johns Hopkins days, Ross G. Harrison. Harrison wrote in
1937 that the new gene theory, as prestigious as it seemed to be, was much too
one-sided. It focused only on the problem of what hereditary potentialities were
passed from parent to offspring, and failed to deal in any significant way with the
embryological issues (Harrison, 1973: p. 372). Beyond this, Harrison probed more
deeply at the philosophical foundations of the split. He argued that geneticists were
too atomistic, while embryologists sought a more holistic interpretation of the
hereditary process:
The embryologist, however, is concerned more with the larger changes in the
whole organism and its primitive systems of organs than with the lesser qualities
known to be associated with gene actions. As Just remarked ... he is more
interested in the back [of a fruit fly] than in the bristles on the back, and more
in the eyes than the eye color [Harrison 1937: p. 372].
In addition to classical embryologists such as Lillie and Harrison, another group,
namely those concerned with the problem of cytoplasmic inheritance reacted against
the Morgan definition of heredity. As Jan Sapp pointed out, both Herbert Spencer
Jennings and more particularly his student Tracy Sonneborn found the definition
of heredity associated with the Morgan school far too limiting. In his autobiography
Sonneborn described himself as a "lifelong critic of what seemed to be a blind and
erroneous faith in the gene as a source of all heredity" (Sonneborn, 1978: p. 1). In
the same paragraph he referred to the transmission conception of heredity as "a
stifling dogma." Focusing as much attention as it did on the nucleus, and particularly
the chromosomes, the Mendelian-chromosome theory, as defined by Morgan, left
little room for nucleo-cytoplasmic interaction. Viktor Hamburger has pointed out
that as late as 1951 the effects of this rigid separation (between genotype and
phenotype and between nucleus and cytoplasm) were felt by Belgian embryologist
Albert Dalcq. Arguing that classical genetics ignored the important role that
cytoplasm as "an organized system" played in the process of differentiation, he
wrote,
This notion [of pattern in the cytoplasm and of the importance of the whole],
so intimately tied to a pattern, is lacking in the system of concepts used by
geneticists . . . [These] are based on a particularistic, atomistic viewpoint which
neglects, despite everything, this other factor which resides in the totality of the
organization [Dalcq (1951): p. 135; translated by Hamburger].
With this sort of a general objection widely felt among embryologists it is no
wonder that the MBL was not a likely atmosphere for the development of genetics
as a new field. Add to this the fact that Morgan did not like to bother himself with
teaching, and was undoubtedly making no efforts to develop a genetics course on
his own at MBL, the atmosphere at the Laboratory was simply not conducive to
the new Mendelian genetics as an official Woods Hole research or teaching program.
In conclusion, then, what I want to emphasize is that the development of
genetics as a field separate from the older, more inclusive notion of heredity, ended
GENETICS AND EMBRYOLOGY 119
up separating the study of genetics from the study of embryology. To summarize,
the separation was the result of several interacting factors:
( 1 ) A pervasive commitment among biologists — especially T. H. Morgan and
his school — to mechanistic materialism and its associated analytical methods by
which complex problems and/or processes are broken down into their simpler
components;
(2) the conscious awareness of biologists of the useful distinction Wilhelm
Johannsen had made between the genotype and the phenotype, corresponding as it
did to the distinction between genetics and embryology;
(3) the rapid and exciting development of the Mendelian work with the fruit fly
Dmsophila melganogaster; Drosophila was an extremely favorable organism for the
study of Mendelian and chromosome transmission;
(4) the competition between fields which makes the delineation of separate
disciplines advantageous, especially to a new field trying to establish its own identity,
its own areas of research focus, its own funding, and its own students;
(5) and last and perhaps most important, the agricultural context in which the
study of how (and in what pattern) traits are passed on from one generation to
another seeing as being greater economic — and I mean by that consciously profit —
gain is viewed as more important than how traits develop from fertilized egg to
adult. It was this agricultural imperative that translated not only into greater
enthusiasm and optimism about the potential which genetics held, but also into
greater financial and institutional support.
Thus, what started as a paradox about the specific institutional history of the
MBL, now can be seen as part of a larger development both inside and outside the
biological community. The widening gap between genetics and embryology, both
conceptually and in terms of rapidity of new advances in the 1920s and "30s, was
thus a result of a number of converging factors during the first several decades of
the century. T. H. Morgan, an important figure at the MBL during this period,
played a major role in creating that widening gap. That his own most exciting work
did not find a more hospitable a home in the MBL is due to both institutional and
wider intellectual/philosophical factors — to the difference in the holistic world view
of the embryologists and the mechanistic, analytical world view of the geneticists.
Such is the stuff of which scientific history is made.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
An earlier version of this paper was prepared for the British Society for
Developmental Biology's annual meeting at Nottingham, England, in April, 1983.
I am much indebted to the British Society, and to Dr. Timothy Horder, for the
opportunity to put these ideas together for the first time. In addition, a number of
people have contributed substantially to my own thinking, either directly or
indirectly, during the preparation of the paper: Viktor Hamburger, Jan Sapp, Scott
Gilbert, and Barbara Kimmelman.
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Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 122-126. (June, 1985)
COMPARATIVE PHYSIOLOGY AND BIOCHEMISTRY AT THE
ZOOLOGICAL STATION OF NAPLES
FRANCESCO GHIRETTI
Department of Biology, University of Padova, Italy
The Zoological Station of Naples was planned and realized in 1872 as a research
institute for zoology and morphology. Its founder and director Anton Dohrn was a
zoologist and morphologist; the first assistants were zoologists Nicholaus Kleinenberg
and Hugo Eisig. Zoologists and morphologists were the first guests of the new
Institute: von Waldeyer-Hartz, Francis Balfour, Ray Lankester, August Weismann,
Giovanni Battista Grassi, Antonio Delia Valle, Oscar Schmidt, Willem Hiibrecht,
and others. The three publications issued by the Station, Mittheilungen der Zoolo-
gischen Station in Neapel, Zoologischer Jahresbericht, and Fauna und Flora des
Golfes von Neapel dealt with zoology and botany. In 1876 Anton Dohrn added a
section of Botany, and botanists also were among the first guests.
Research projects reflected the origin of the scientists themselves, but morpho-
logical studies dominated. Dohrn's original interest was morphology of the inverte-
brates and comparative embryology. In 1875 he published a book, Urspriing der
Wirbeltiere und das Prinzip des Functionswechsel which was the basis for his 25
subsequent publications under the general title: Studies on the Origin of the
Vertebrate Body. Later his main research interest centered around the problem of
explaining the structure of the vertebrate head.
Although a morphologist until the end of his life, Dohrn had an unusual feeling
for the significance of new scientific currents, especially the developing branches of
physiology, comparative physiology, and physiological chemistry. Taking account
of the rapid development of these disciplines which had sprouted in the early 1800's
under the leadership of Jean Baptiste Dumas and Jean Baptiste Boussingault in
France, and Johannes Miiller and Justus von Liebig in Germany; fearing the
competition of other countries, which already had more up-to-date marine stations;
and hoping to attract and link new scientists to the Naples Institute; Dohrn built,
in 1888, another building and connected it to the older one with a foot-bridge. He
called the new building the Department of Physiology. Soon, however, the new
facilities failed to meet the requirements of the ever-expanding field of comparative
physiology, and he took the third step of his unique enterprise by adding a larger
building, attached to the older one. This was finished in 1906. The Zoological
Station maintained its well-known appearance until 1965, when the empty space
spanned by the foot-bridge was filled with the new library. As Dohrn used to say:
the three buildings give the impression of a railway or of a tramway, with an engine
and two wagons. In the new Department, two sub-departments were established:
one for Physiological Chemistry and the other for Animal and Comparative
Physiology.
Dohrn died in 1909 and was unable to appreciate fully the tremendous impetus
he had given to scientific activities of the Institute with the realization of these new
sub-departments. When the history of the scientific activities of the Station is
written, as I hope it will be, chronologically and with all the studies which have
been carried out properly described, the scale will tip definitely towards physiology.
There is, perhaps, no aspect of cell physiology or of comparative physiology and
122
COMPARATIVE PHYSIOLOGY AND BIOCHEMISTRY 123
biochemistry which has not been for a shorter or longer time the subject of
important research at the Institute. It is a long line of flashing lights, some very
luminous, some less so, which glows almost uninterrupted to the present time. I
shall not even try to recall all of them, but I cannot avoid mentioning a few
scientists who, by having worked at the Station for considerable periods, left an
imprint on the scientific history of the Institute.
From 1892 to 1902, von Uexkiill was head of the Physiology Department, and
for ten years he carried out original and ingenious experiments on the nervous and
muscular systems of marine animals. Uexkiill was a pioneer of modern behavioral
biology. He investigated the environmental relations, the "sphere of function" as he
called it, which connect the individual to its environment.
During the same period Oscar Hertwig and Theodor Boveri laid the foundations
of the mechanism of fertilization. Especially after the investigations of Boveri, the
egg and the larvae of echinoderms became classic objects of cell physiology.
Cytophysiological studies of the unfertilized and fertilized sea urchin egg cover a
large part of the scientific history of the Station; this field has been elucidated by
Monroy and by other participants of this meeting more expert than myself.
Active "customers" of the Physiology Department at the end of the last century
and the beginning of this one were Silvestro Baglioni and Filippo Bottazzi, who, as
human physiologists themselves, were well aware of the great importance of the
expanding new disciplines of comparative physiology and physiological chemistry.
From 1905 to 1909, Baglioni worked mostly on the sensory organs of cephalopods
and fishes; Bottazzi carried out his well-known experiments on osmoregulation in
marine animals. This line of research originated from the concept of the milieu
interieur, formulated years before in France by Claude Bernard. The results obtained
caused Bottazzi to distinguish aquatic animals as homeosmotic and pecilosmotic, a
distinction which is maintained today with the modern, if not more transparent
words, osmoconformers and osmoregulators. Baglioni and Bottazzi's work at the
Station can be examined in their extensive chapters in the Handbuch der Verglei-
chende Physiologic, that monumental treatise edited by Winterstein between 1914
and 1925.
Martin Henze, who came to Naples in 1902, was in charge of the sub-department
of Physiological Chemistry for ten years, until 1914. He made many important
contributions to the chemistry of hemocyanin, the oxygen-carrying pigment which
had been discovered by Leon Fredericq while working at the marine station of
Roscoff. By his discovery of tyramine and other amines in the salivary glands of
cephalopods, Henze was the initiator of a fruitful line of biochemical research which
developed into several other biochemical and physiological fields, such as the
biotoxins of marine animals and their humoral and nervous correlations. All these
have been pursued at the Station until very recently by many scientists.
From 1908 to 1914, Otto Warburg spent several periods at the Station, where
he carried out his first major independent work on the oxygen consumption which
occurs when a sea urchin egg begins to develop after fertilization. He made the
classic discovery that upon fertilization the rate of respiration rises as much as six-
fold. These results, which provided the basis for his future work on the metabolism
of tumor cells, are described in three of his very first papers (in Hoppe Seyler's
Zeitschrift fur Physiologische Chemie) completed before obtaining his M.D. degree
in 1911 at Heidelberg.
Warburg had exceptional skill in selecting the right kind of material for solving
a specific problem. He chose the sea urchin egg (and not, for instance, the frog's
egg, which was available in Heidelberg) because the amount of living matter is large
124 F. GHIRETTI
in relation to the yolk mass, and because development of the fertilized egg is very
rapid, so that the changes he was looking for would take place in a short time. His
aim was to demonstrate that in the course of growth chemical work must be done,
and therefore the rate of energy supply must increase. This is self-evident to any
student who studies biology today, but 80 years ago the experiments of earlier
investigators of this problem had been inconclusive. More astonishing is that
Warburg carried out his oxygen determinations not manometrically, but with the
titrimetric method developed by Winkler, which he had improved and checked
carefully for all possible causes of errors. The theory and practice of manometry
were perfected by Warburg later, in 1920, and they were the key techniques of his
later discoveries.
After 1922, the Belgian physiologists Henry Fredericq (son of Leon Fredericq)
and Zeno Bacq became regular guests of the Station. Here they worked mainly on
the physiology of the autonomic nervous system of cephalopods; the presence and
release of noradrenaline and acetylcholine from the visceral nerves of invertebrates
was the main object of their work. It was during these studies that Bacq discovered
nemertine and amphiporine from marine annelids, a discovery which can be placed
in another line of research, i.e., biotoxins from marine animals. This original line
goes back to Martin Henze, and includes among its exploiters Vittorio Erspamer,
with his discovery of murexine and of eledoisin. Such research is pursued today by
some members of the staff of the Station including Lucio Cariello.
In 1935, Bacq and Francesco Paolo Mazza demonstrated the presence of
acetylcholine in the optical ganglia of the octopus, and identified the substance
chemically. Earlier, in Germany, acetylcholine had been identified as the "vagusstojf"
by Otto Loewi. The work of Bacq and Mazza is a keystone in the history of
chemical nervous transmission, and it was the first direct demonstration of its
existence in nervous tissue.
In the same line of research belongs the work of Enrico Sereni, who was in
charge of the Department of Physiology for several years. Sereni was a brilliant
physiologist, and among many other studies I like to remember are his ingenious
experiments on nervous and humoral correlations of the activity of the chromato-
phores, and the peripheral nervous system in cephalopods, in collaboration with the
young J. Z. Young.
Young founded another line of research, followed for many years, almost
uninterrupted at the Station. His name is written in capital letters in the scientific
history of the Institute. This afternoon we shall listen to a recollection by Young
himself of his work on the neurophysiology of the squid and the octopus.
I close this sketch by asking once again that experts in zoology, botany,
embryology, physiology, biochemistry, etc., who have worked at the Station, write
the scientific history of the Institute. As a multifaceted crystal, the Zoological Station
of Naples will reflect a hundred years of the history of Biology.
It has been said that we cannot conceive what the present state of biological
sciences would be without the influence of the Zoological Station. This is pure
rhetoric: too many rhetorical statements have been made about the Station.
I want to ask a simple and much less global question: what has been the
influence of the Station on the development of Biology in Italy! After all, it was
founded and developed in this country, and it is not irrational to suppose that
exchanges occurred between this scientific institute and the rest of the Italian
scientific community.
COMPARATIVE PHYSIOLOGY AND BIOCHEMISTRY 125
In fact, the impact of the Station on Italian zoology is enormous. As Giovanni
Battista Grassi said, in the last century the Italian zoologists and botanists were
more Linnaeans than Linnaeus himself. Only in later years were they influenced by
the great revolution of the so-called scientific zoology, which had arisen in Germany
in 1848 with the foundation of the Zeitschrift fur wissenschaftliche Zoologie. Dohrn
was a crusader of this revolution. The Italian zoologist Antonio Delia Valle (to
mention only one), who worked at the Station from 1878 to 1899, contributed
greatly to the development of zoology in this country.
But the same did not occur in the physiological and biochemical sciences. This
is surprising because, as I have recalled, the Station had developed more space for
physiology and biochemistry than for zoology and morphological sciences. In my
opinion there are several reasons for this, which deserve careful analysis, especially
in consideration of the present status and of the future prospects of the Station.
Physiological and biochemical work accomplished at the Station remained
almost unknown to Italian physiologists and biochemists. This was due primarily
to the indolence and the rather restricted preparation of the Italian scientists. No
physiologist in Italy, not even one of his pupils, was the heir of Bottazzi. Even
today comparative physiology in this country is considered an eccentric discipline
by traditional physiologists.
This is on one side. On the other side, the Station always refused to create
something which would have even the appearance of a school of physiology. Yet
the Institute had its own scientific staff; it had heads of Departments, and Assistants.
And several of them, as I have recalled, succeeded in establishing productive lines
of research in the Department of Physiology — in spite of the politics of the Institute,
I should add.
Reinhard Dohrn used to say: "there are no positions at the Z.S., but only
functions." By this rather obscure statement he meant that we were not really Head
of the Department or Assistant, but we had to behave as though we were. If, in
addition, we wanted to carry out scientific work, that was our business.
The fear that somebody on the staff might become the scientific head of a
Department is the original sin at the Zoological Station. At the time of Anton
Dohrn, Uexkiill was fired because he wanted to be the literal leader of the Physiology
Department. "Discord developed between Dohrn and Uexkiill because the latter, as
head of the Physiology Department, expected special treatment." This is reported
in the Archives of the Station.
This is also the reason why the Station never had its own research programs. Of
course that is not precisely true. During Anton Dohrn's lifetime the Station did
carry out an ambitious program on its own. It was in fact the personal scientific
program of the Director. All the Assistants (and I want to remember among them,
particularly, Salvatore Lo Bianco), most of the zoologists and morphologists,
foreigners as well as Italians, who crowded the Institute, even in disparate fields,
centered their interests around a pillar, which was the original scientific program of
the Station. But the situation changed suddenly with appearance of the Departments
of Physiology and of Physiological Chemistry, since Dohrn was neither a physiologist
nor a biochemist, and it was radicalized later when the Director was not even a
scientist.
The Station never made a sincere effort to introduce itself to the Italian scientific
community, however reluctant and narrow-minded were the Italian physiologists
and biochemists. Today we are proud to recall the Nobel prizes of famous scientists
who worked at the Station: Otto Loewi, Albrecht Kossel, Otto Warburg, Otto
126 F. GHIRETTI
Meyerhof, Theodor Svedberg, Albert Szent-Gyorgyi. How many excellent occasions
those imply for shaking the sloth of the teachers, and for attracting young people
from the Italian universities!
With the exception perhaps of Neapolitan students who knew the building from
the outside, nobody for years, in the Italian universities, ever heard about the
existence of a Zoological Station in Naples. Postgraduate students were admitted
for the first time in 1947, when Giuseppe Reverberi obtained support via short-term
grants from the Italian National Research Council. I had the good luck to be among
them, and I wonder how welcome it was to have around a dozen restless, noisy
young people, not used to the atmosphere of such an old and traditional Institute.
When Monroy last year told me of his plan to celebrate the hundred years of
scientific activity at the Zoological Station of Naples and at the Marine Biological
Laboratory in Woods Hole, I realized suddenly how different these two institutions
have approached their intentions and purpose: the former aristocratic and exclusive;
the other accessible and educational. We shall discuss further the biological future
and the functional perspectives of the Zoological Station of Naples. I hope that the
history of scientific activity at the Station, which we are sketching at this meeting,
will not remain a mere academic celebration, but will rather help to define the
place of this Institute in the Italian scientific community of today; what sort of
relationship it can have (or must have) with the Italian universities; and with other
scientific institutions. History, said the Romans, is the master of life. But history
never repeats itself.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppi.): 127-136. (June, 1985)
SOME STRUGGLES OF JACQUES LOEB, ALBERT MATHEWS, AND
ERNEST JUST AT THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
SEYMOUR S. COHEN
Depart men! oj Pharmacological Sciences, State University of New York
at Stony Brook, Stony Brook, New York 1 1 794
ABSTRACT
Jacques Loeb led the Department of Physiology at the Marine Biological
Laboratory (MBL) in 1892, four years after the opening of the Laboratory. In that
year he was also the first to study the development of fertilized sea urchin (Arbacia
punctulata) eggs and detected a selective effect of hypertonic sea water in eliciting
nuclear cleavage. By 1 899 he had discovered artificial parthenogenesis. His priority
in this discovery was challenged by an assistant in his Department, A. P. Mathews,
who criticized other aspects of Loeb's work both from the MBL and from their
common University. Mathews also leaked Loeb's progress to the press. Loeb
attempted to have Mathews fired, but Mathews remained as head of the course at
the MBL and also became Professor at the University of Chicago after Loeb left.
Loeb worked for over a decade to prove Mathews incorrect in his claims and
criticism. Loeb's work eventually helped to destroy a colloidal theory which Mathews
upheld in his book, the first American text of biochemistry. For over two decades,
Mathews taught, advised, and encouraged E. E. Just, who in support of the
embryological work of another mentor, F. R. Lillie, publicly attacked Loeb's work.
Loeb's antipathy to Just has been attributed to racism, but possibly resulted in large
part from his scientific differences with Mathews, Lillie, and Just.
INTRODUCTION
For at least the past thirty years, there has been a poker game in Woods Hole
each Thursday night of every summer. Although the participants have all been
eminent practitioners of a reductionist quantitative biology at the MBL, the "poker
games" have consisted of a variety of different card games in which winning has
depended on large components of luck coupled with concentrated study by the
players. Almost uniformly the games have included "wild cards" or "jokers", i.e.,
either the cards can be whatever the players would like or the rules have been
altered to permit hidden surprises. In maximizing chance the participants have
relaxed by deliberately changing their habits of work, and have appealed to the
power of the unknown.
Reductionism, the usual methodology of these gamblers, has often incorrectly
carried the implication of an arrogant presumption of knowledge. Although a large
majority of my colleagues hold the view, as did Jacques Loeb, that phenomena of
biology obey the laws of physics and chemistry, and attempt to analyze many of
these phenomena in these terms, I do not know any who believe that physiological
phenomena are entirely interpretable with our presently available knowledge.
However, to many of Loeb's contemporaries, descriptive morphologists at the end
of the nineteenth century, the search for manipulable simple systems as an approach
to generalizing biological laws may have seemed an affront to the then obvious
complexity of the biological world.
127
128 S. S. COHEN
At present the practitioners of this methodology will say only that they are
following both the biologists, who, in the words of F. G. Hopkins "know best the
lay of the land" and the chemists (and physicists) who have devised ever more
penetrating exploitative techniques. Despite an interest in performing ever more
sophisticated and elegantly controlled experiments, most investigators, even today,
are enthused by the possibility of the unexpected, i.e., a serendipitous discovery. In
this sense, the poker game, replete with wild cards, may be merely the reflection of
the aspirations of some well-known experimentalists.
In my recent examination of the early history of physiology, embryology, and
biochemistry at the MBL, I have also turned up some unsuspected wild cards,
which appear to challenge some current notions about our predecessors.
George Sarton has told us that a historian of science should know both history
and science, and this ideal has proven to be quite difficult to realize. In the
occasional mixed symposia of historians and scientists, these groups have tended to
focus on different aspects of a problem under consideration and most often have
talked past each other. In addition the two groups have developed a certain tension
between them. The historians are suspicious of the personal involvement of the
practitioners with the subject matter and other possibly related long forgotten events,
while the scientists point to the neglect or lack of understanding of the scientific
qualities of the problems by the historians. In my recent studies, it has appeared to
me that an interplay of scientific and historical knowledge is essential in permitting
a realistic look at the evolution of physiology at the MBL. It is not really possible
to understand the growth of the discipline at that institution without a close study
of almost all of the actors and their scientific problems, as well as their interactions
on matters of personal, scientific, and institutional concern.
WHITMAN, LOEB, AND PHYSIOLOGY
In examining the records of the MBL, the name of Jacques Loeb appears very
early in the introduction of physiology at the Laboratory. A course of work in
physiology as such was not introduced "for lack of space" in 1888, the first year of
the opening of the laboratory (Whitman 1892). Whitman called attention to this
deficiency in 1891 and acted to correct it in 1892. In his Annual Report of 1892,
he stated that
Morphology and physiology are two quite distinct sides of biology, each with
definite and constant peculiarities of method and aim; but these two sides are
only the statical and the dynamical aspect of one and the same thing; one
presents Ihe feature the other the expression. It is only as a matter of convenience
that these two aspects are dealt with separately; they are complemental and have
their full meaning only when united.
Whitman continued by insisting that the two sides be "kept in working contact."
Separation has kept "physiology too exclusively in the service of Medicine" . . .
"The biological economy of organisms must become an integral part of physiology."
Both branches relate to problems of both evolution and development, i.e., to
paleontology and embryology, and "the history of morphology and physiology is
one continuous illustration of their interdependence," as exemplified by Harvey's
discovery of the circulation of the blood. There has been a "lack of interest in
general physiology" and in marine biology. "It has been our good fortune to draw
into connection with the Laboratory Dr. Loeb, whose enthusiasm, zeal, and
accomplishments in general physiology, make him a fitting director of this
department."
After a year at Bryn Mawr in 1891, Loeb was recruited by Whitman to the
University of Chicago in 1892. Whitman's plan for the growth of an academic
THE LOEB, MATHEWS, JUST CONNECTION 129
biology that reflected the natural world rather than that of medicine called for a
man of Loeb's broader interests at both his University Department and the MBL.
In the summer of 1892 Loeb began in a new building at the MBL, and worked
with three postdoctoral associates and a number of students in a course of lectures
and experimental studies. He soon became interested in embryological studies and
reportedly was the first to perform experiments on the eggs of the sea urchin,
Arbacia punctulata (Harvey, 1956). His paper described effects of hypertonic sea
water on nuclear division without cell division (Loeb, 1892). T. H. Morgan, also
working at the MBL, published on the same subject a year later (Morgan, 1893). It
is of interest that at the MBL both of these men, who had had some administrative
differences as fellow faculty members at Bryn Mawr, were pursuing similar problems
in physiological morphology, i.e., embryological development, on the same biological
system. Although frequently differing in their conclusions, these men did respect
each other's work, and had similar orientations to the major biological problems of
the day. Both eventually left this complex but apparently confusing embryological
system for more manageable materials, and as we know, both made fundamental
contributions to quantitative biology. Morgan became an innovator of genetics and
the theory of the gene, while Loeb can be considered to be a founding father of the
physical chemistry of proteins. An important book on the latter subject (Cohn and
Edsall, 1943) is dedicated to the memory of Jacques Loeb (1859-1924), in addition
to tributes to Sir William Bate Hardy (1864-1934), Thomas Burr Osborne (1859-
1929), and S0ren Peter Lauritz S0rensen (1868-1939). The inscription in this
volume of Cohn and Edsall reads "Their investigations laid the foundations for the
physical chemistry of proteins."
LOOKING AT LOEB AND His ASSOCIATES
Any working biochemist trained in the 193CTs and 194CTs would have many ties
to Loeb. Taking courses in General Physiology and Colloid Chemistry in the 3(Ts,
one would have learned that, as a result of Loeb's work, the alleged distinctions
between crystalloids and colloids, as applied to protoplasmic constituents, were
spurious. He had shown that proteins combine stoichiometrically with acids and
alkalis as a function of the hydrogen ion concentration (pH) and reactive ionizable
groups on the proteins (Loeb, 1924). As a result, proteins may be soluble at one
pH and aggregated at another. This manipulation was fundamental in the extraor-
dinary isolation and crystallization of many proteins and enzymes in the late
twenties, thirties, and forties by John Northrop and Moses Kunitz, both of whom
had been close associates of Loeb at the Rockefeller Institute. Also, in another
important branch of protein chemistry, the productive laboratory of E. J. Cohn
during World War II used the physical chemical methods pioneered by Loeb to
prepare many medically useful fractions of blood plasma. Loeb is an important
figure to a biochemist of my period, and it was fascinating to learn that his
biochemical discoveries began at the MBL with experiments on sea urchin eggs and
hypertonic sea water.
LOEB'S EARLY RESEARCH AT THE MBL
Several historians have outlined Loeb's early life as student and post-doctoral
research associate in Germany (Fleming 1973; Pauly, 1980). His initial interest in
the localization of brain function raised questions on the control of locomotion and
animal behavior, subjects which led to studies of various tropisms. He then opposed
the concept of instinctual behavior and objected to the use of psychological terms
in describing biological reality. In the late 1880's Loeb had discussed problems of
130 S. S. COHEN
plant motion with Julius Sachs who had wished "to reduce to chemistry and physics
those functions amenable to such explanations" and had pointed to the effects of
osmotic pressure and salts on plants (Pauly, 1980). As described by Pauly, Loeb
saw science, and particularly biological science, as part of a human effort to cope
more effectively with the environment. Going to the Stazione Zoologica in Naples
in 1889 and 1890, he began to study regeneration and the creation of new animal
forms in marine organisms.
Loeb's marriage to an American in 1890, his evaluation of his potential career
in medically oriented Germany, and his friendship in Naples with Americans, such
as Christian Herter, eased his decision to emigrate and to accept the offer of a
position at Bryn Mawr. His move to the larger world of the newly established
University of Chicago and an association with the enlightened and dynamic
Whitman permitted him to become a virtually instantaneous leader of physiology
in an America in which the discipline scarcely existed. It must be noted that
Darwinian evolution in this pre-Mendelian era could offer no scientific proof of the
mechanism of the origin of species and variation, and Loeb, as well as Morgan,
were far from convinced at this time of the validity of "evolutionism." It has been
suggested by Pauly that Whitman hoped research by Loeb and the physiologists
would contribute to knowledge of the evolution of physiological function, whereas
Loeb was interested primarily in the control of known function.
In any case, Loeb's research began at the MBL with the effects of hypertonic
media on fertilized sea urchin eggs, and he believed he had detected nuclear cleavage
without cellular cleavage (Loeb, 1892), a result which was challenged (Morgan,
1893). With the cytological aid of W. W. Norman of Texas, an associate in the
Physiology Course at the MBL and previously at the Naples Laboratory (Norman,
1896), Loeb was proved correct and proceeded to exploit the observation of Morgan
who had seen that salts produced mitosis-like effects in unfertilized eggs. By 1899
Loeb had discovered and reported "the artificial producton of normal larvae (plutei)
from unfertilized eggs of the sea urchin" (Loeb, 1899). Loeb had indeed begun to
"control" biological systems. In the summer of 1900, this result was confirmed by
many workers and the cytology of parthenogenetic development of these eggs had
been clarified (Wilson, 1901).
It should be evident that this surprising and dramatic feat was the consequence
of many lines of work. Loeb, Sachs, and others had rejected the medical direction
of German biology and had sought ever more controllable model systems. The
Naples laboratory had helped to educate Whitman, Loeb, Morgan, and Norman in
the importance of marine systems. Whitman's vision, energies, and administrative
skills had built the MBL and the Department at Chicago, and had recruited Loeb.
The personal qualities and interplay of all of these men had also contributed
crucially. Nevertheless the induction of nuclear cleavage to artificial parthenogenesis
had taken seven years of determined effort to answer Morgan and to go on from
there. The need of a working scientist to define the nature of a possible mistake
and to correct it, if necessary, can be a powerful driving force, and perhaps has not
been considered sufficiently in analyzing the mainsprings of discovery. In looking
at Loeb's career, we shall see that Loeb worked very hard and long to answer
criticisms of his scientific results and conclusions. The nature of that need is not
easily clarified.
A. P. MATHEWS, THE WILD CARD
In 1895, E. B. Wilson and Albert Prescott Mathews, the latter a student at
Columbia University, made an interesting contribution to the study of the devel-
opment of the sea urchin egg (Wilson and Mathews, 1895). Mathews spent a year
THE LOEB, MATHEWS, JUST CONNECTION 131
in Germany with Albrecht Kossel on the chemistry of sperm and in 1898 he
completed his doctoral dissertation at Columbia on "The Physiology of Secretion"
(Harvey, 1958). Having studied the chemistry of staining and the structure of cells
of the pancreas, and with biochemical, cytological, and embryological training,
Mathews, now Assistant Professor of Physiology at Tuft's College, joined the MBL
faculty of the Department of General and Comparative Physiology in 1899 with
Loeb and E. P. Lyon, Instructor in Biology of the Bradley Institute of Technology
of Peoria, Illinois. Norman appears to drop from the course after 1898. This is the
important summer of Loeb's great discovery, but in 1900 Mathews announced that
quite independently he had caused cell division in unfertilized Arhacia eggs by
anaerobiosis, heat and ether, alcohol, and chloroform. He also added that Morgan
had conducted the first fruitful experiments on chemical ferilization in 1898, and
that Loeb had confirmed and extended Morgan's work in 1899. According to
Mathews, Loeb had been incorrect initially in his interpretations, but had now
modified his views.
In 1901 (Mathews, 1901) Mathews published from Harvard on secretion, and
on the effects of salts in the conductivity of the nerve. In another paper we learn
more of artificial parthenogenesis, in this instance of starfish eggs, produced by
mechanical agitation. This paper also included a confirmation attributed to Morgan,
as well as unpublished data by Loeb on Chaetoptems and Nereis. It may be
mentioned that embryologists, including E. E. Just, thought that this effect of
shaking was due to the carbon dioxide or acidity generated in unduly concentrated
suspensions of eggs.
In 1901 Mathews came to the University of Chicago in the Department of
Physiology. He informed his brother, a newspaper reporter, of exciting unpublished
work from Loeb's laboratory, which was then sensationalized in the press (Pauly,
1980; Kohler, 1982). Loeb was upset, and writing to President Harper, stated that
Mathews should not have confiscated Loeb's unpublished work or have claimed
that of Loeb's students, that Mathews' work was unsound "and of such a character
as to sooner or later injure the reputation of the University" (Kohler, 1982). Kohler
has also recorded some independent opinions casting aspersions on Mathews'
scientific judgement. The resulting brouhaha led to the development of a "Code of
Scientific Ethics" by the faculty of the University of Chicago (Pauly, 1980). By 1903
Loeb had left the University of Chicago for the University of California, but
Mathews remained in Chicago and developed work in chemical biology, rising to
the rank of full professor by 1905 (Kohler, 1982). He left Chicago only to go to the
University of Cincinnati where he began a program in clinical chemistry.
In long papers in Science on nerve stimulation, Mathews turned his attention
to physical chemistry, attempted to correct some of his own initial mistakes in
attributing salt effects to the production of hydroxyl ions, and then enlarged upon
new results correcting errors assigned to Loeb (Mathews, 1902). When Loeb
responded criticizing some of Mathew's notions, such as those of stimulation and
inhibition being due to a precipitation and resolution of nerve colloids respectively,
Mathews continued at length, and introduced new speculations on his results with
eggs, kidneys, and central nervous system (Mathews, 1903).
Loeb now had a large number of criticisms and claims to which to respond. In
fact, although far more circumspect than Mathews in referring to his antagonist by
name, Loeb did continue to explore the matters raised by Mathews and eventually
responded to many of them. For example in 1899 Loeb had reported that calcium
ion inhibited muscle twitching caused by NaCl and had suggested that stimulation
by citrate, oxalate, fluoride, and phosphate might be due to precipitation or other
binding of calcium. On the other hand Mathews expressed the belief in 1903 that
132 S. S. COHEN
only unions are stimulating and that cations are depressing. Exploring the effects of
salts of ammonium and tetraethyl ammonium ions and other amines, and a large
array of other salts Loeb and Ewald showed in 1916 that calcium "does not inhibit
the efficiency of the stimulating salt by depressing the irritability of the nerve."
Many other facts are adduced and in conclusion "All these facts contradict the
hypothesis of Mathews. . . ." (Loeb and Ewald, 1916).
Loeb's continuing concern with Mathews1 counter hypotheses can be found in
some of his later papers (Loeb, 1914a). It may be asked if his almost exclusive
concentration on salt effects and ion binding in his later experimental years did not
result in significant measure from the knowledge he had developed in responding
to these old criticisms. Loeb's initial formulation of the idea that ion effects on
protoplasm were interpretable by the laws of chemistry and physics was stated as
early as 1904, and his criticisms of the proposed differences between colloidal and
crystalloidal proteins sharpened as his studies on ion binding became more rigorous.
The existence of this deep personal and professional antagonism between Loeb
and Mathews raises many questions concerning Mathews' position at Chicago and
at the MBL. How did he manage to remain at Chicago? Mathews led the MBL
physiology course after Loeb's departure for the University of California in 1903,
and remained associated with it until 1919. Indeed he was elected a Trustee of the
MBL in 1906 and remained a Trustee, even if emeritus, until his death in 1957
(Harvey, 1958). When Loeb left California for the Rockefeller Institute in 1910, he
spent his summers at the Institute laboratory at the MBL, with associates among
whom were Northrop and Kunitz. He also was a Trustee until his death in 1924. It
might be imagined that Mathews and Loeb might have had quite divergent opinions
on the organization of the physiology course, and might well have expressed these.
However there is no significant mention of Mathews in the minutes of the Trustees
and of the Executive Committee of the Trustees. The minutes and formal reports
are models of tact, obscuring the tensions of the times.
THE MANNING-JUST-LOEB CONNECTION
As indicated earlier, a career in biochemistry and cell physiology does sensitize
one to the name of Jacques Loeb. In addition a literary event in 1983 has most
forcefully brought Loeb to our attention. The biography of the Negro biologist,
Ernest Everett Just, written by the black historian, K. R. Manning (Manning, 1983),
was widely and favorably reviewed this past year. The book describes the social and
institutional difficulties of a black biologist in America from 1910 through 1940.
Woods Hole and the MBL are portrayed as a somewhat racist community and
institution respectively, in which the apprentice Just earned his keep by menial
labor and was trained to do research by the Director, F. R. Lillie. Just eventually
obtained a doctoral degree under Lillie at the University of Chicago and worked
independently at the MBL on problems of embryological development. Although
Just had risen to a Professorship at Howard University, had published extensively
with Lillie, and was recognized as quite knowledgeable in his field, he was unable
to obtain a position in a major white University, and indeed he had been warned
of this on many occasions by his teacher and adviser, Lillie. He had indeed failed
to "break out" of Howard to a more respected position, and was unable to make a
"lasting psychological adjustment" to his predicament. Although recognized as a
great Negro biologist, he wished desperately to be recognized as a great biologist. In
describing Just's failures. Manning's book imputes racist behavior to the Jew, Loeb,
dubs Abraham Flexner, a "paternalistic segregationist," and dwells gratuitously on
the unpleasant personal reputations of some Jewish physiologists. Just is quoted as
THE LOEB, MATHEWS, JUST CONNECTION 133
having written in an appeal to Lady Astor in the 1930's that he had been "put in
the bad book by Jews generally."
However throughout the book one finds that Loeb had helped Just considerably
on several occasions early in his professional career, that Flexner had assisted Just
often through various philanthropic agencies, and that Just had obtained warm,
even caring personal support from some Jewish colleagues and friends. Nevertheless
one is left with the claim that Loeb was a major factor in the tragedy of Just.
It is appropriate to consider the evidence that Loeb was a racist because
Manning has not discussed the succession of events in the context of the interactions
of scientists who disagreed publicly as well as privately on matters of science. Some
of the weaknesses of Manning's arguments may be summarized as follows:
(1) Since 1904, Loeb had abandoned the mystique of colloidal chemistry which
was retained by Just, Mathews, and close colleagues of Just such as L. V. Heilbrunn
through the late 1930s. This neglect of scientific differences will be considered in
more detail below.
(2) The twenty-year-old relations of Just to his teacher and adviser Mathews
are discussed without reference to the unfriendly relations of Mathews and Loeb
described above.
(3) Loeb's antiracist publications in 1914 (Loeb, 1914b) are not quoted, but he
is rebuked for not having made speeches at NAACP meetings.
(4) In a letter to a Flexner, Loeb is known to have objected to Just as a possible
colleague at the Rockefeller Institute. Just is stated to be "incompetent." The
referencing is confused, and the exact quotations are distorted (Manning, 1983). In
any case, Loeb believed that Just "was one of the men who were making Woods
Hole an impossible place for a decent scientist to live in" (Pauly, 1980). If read
carefully, this might be interpreted to indicate that Just is only one of numerous
miscreants at the MBL, and this could not be an argument on racial grounds. The
suggestion that Just would be better off as a high school teacher is also suggested to
be racially motivated. None of these inferences are discussed in the context that
Just had been denouncing Loeb's science in print and at meetings for some years.
(5) Despite such attacks by Just against Loeb, the latter is expected to have
supported Just's appointment at the Rockefeller Institute, as "symbolic for the
whole black race" (Manning, 1983). Manning, the historian, is calling for "affirmative
action" in 1923 from Loeb, who has been publicly criticized by Just.
(6) Commenting on Loeb's scientific disagreements with Lillie, the most impor-
tant of Just's teachers, advisers and collaborators, Manning suggests that Loeb
founded the Journal of General Physiology in part to block Lillie from publishing
(Manning, 1983). John Northrop's memory of Loeb's impatience in publishing in
previously existing journals seems far more convincing (Pauly, 1980).
There does not appear to be direct evidence of racism on Loeb's part. It should
also be noted that Just's alienation from American society continued and exacerbated
long after Loeb's death in 1924.
THE MATHEWS-JUST CONNECTION
The point is made by Manning that Just's attacks on Loeb are often attributable
to Just's loyalty to his teacher and adviser, Lillie, whose scientific outlook and
analyses differed from those of Loeb. It is relevant to note that A. P. Mathews was
also teacher, friend, and scientific adviser to Just and that Loeb's attitude to Just
may also have been influenced by the other protracted war between Loeb and
Mathews described earlier.
134 S. S. COHEN
When Just studied at the University of Chicgo in the academic year of 1914-15
to fulfill his residency requirement for the doctorate, he took a course in cell
chemistry with Mathews (Manning, 1983). Mathews has been quoted to the effect
that Just was "better than any other student in the class," and likely to become
"one of the most original and creative men in zoology in the United States." Their
association continued at the MBL and professionally through the late 1930's. In
1935, Mathews encouraged Just to express his controversial opinions challenging
current genetic theory at a meeting of the American Society of Zoologists, and to
emulate Lavoisier's revolution in 18th century chemistry (Manning, 1983).
A. P. Mathews is credited with having written the first American textbook in
biochemistry in 1915. It was written for medical students, was quite popular, and
went through six editions, of which the last was in 1936 (Mathews, 1936). It was
said to have irritated colleagues with personal asides, among other non-standard
components (Kohler, 1982). Mathews' style was apparently consistent. The 1915
book has been described (Chittenden, 1930) as comprehensive, critical and valuable.
Chittenden's evaluation of Mathews' contributions comments favorably on a discovery
of the spontaneous oxidation of sugars and cysteine in alkaline solution but notes
his work on protein precipitation by ions without other comment.
However Florkin did comment unfavorably on the 1924 edition of Mathews'
book in a chapter on "The Dark Age of Biocolloidology" (Florkin, 1972). Mathews
was quoted as follows:
It is by means of the colloids of a protein, lipoid or carbohydrate nature,
which make up the substratum of the cell that this localization of chemical
reactions is produced; the colloids furnish the basis for the organization or
machinery of the cell; and in their absence there could be nothing more than a
homogeneous conglomeration of reactions. . . . The colloids localize the cell
reactions and furnish the physical basis of its physiology; they form the "cell
machinery."
In 1936, long after the important work of Loeb, Adair, and Svedberg in 1924,
Mathews' text was still describing as uncertain the molecularity of hemoglobin and
other defined proteins (Mathews, 1936). Unfortunately, Just's orientation to cell
chemistry in 1939, the year of publication of his book The Biology of the Cell
Surface (Just, 1939a) which was to make his final statement, was essentially still
that of the colloidal chemistry of his teacher and even recent adviser, A. P. Mathews.
It was unfortunate that Just, focussing on the potential roles of cell membrane and
the underlying cytoplasm, which he termed "ectoplasm," died in 1941, before the
power of electron microscopy became known and available and before the underlying
nucleoprotein particles in cytoplasm had been described by Caspersson and isolated
and analyzed by Brachet and Claude. Just's book, published just before World War
II, could not have received active attention by either the Europeans at war, or the
increasingly distracted Americans.
WAS LOEB WRONG ABOUT JUST?
Loeb and others considered Just to be arrogant, conceited, and boastful in his
aggressive claims for recognition of achievement (Manning, 1983). However it is
probable that Just felt it necessary to assert himself more forthrightly than is
customary in obtaining recognition by his peers. What is peer review for a black
biologist?
Of the three groups with which Just had been associated at the MBL, all of
whom had studied the embryological development of marine eggs, only Just had
THE LOEB. MATHEWS. JUST CONNECTION 135
stayed with the problem and had come to a sense of the importance of cytoplasm.
T. H. Morgan, after confusing starts and shifts, had dropped the problem and had
focused on mutations in Drosophila; his work in genetics culminated in a Nobel
prize. Loeb also had dropped the problem and in attempting to understand his
earliest work had become both a founding father of protein chemistry and a legend,
depicted in part in "Arrowsmith." Lillie, with whose research work Just had been
associated for years, had become President of the National Academy of Sciences.
Meanwhile embryological work had demonstrated that egg fragments lacking nuclei
and genes could develop after fertilization, or even divide after stimulation without
fertilization. Just emphasized the importance of the cytoplasm, as had Morgan
earlier, but finally had overreached himself (Just, 1939b) with unnecessary attacks
on genetics (Manning, 1983) and extreme theories on the nature of the cellular
division of labor.
However it may be noted that in November 1936 Just wrote to Lillie from
Howard University, described his most recent work, and requested that Lillie write
to support another request for financial help.
"Whilst as you would appreciate my interest is in the biology, I have had to go
into the chemical end of the nucleoproteins. In this I have had great help from Dr.
A. P. Mathews. He has also written a very strong letter in my behalf. . . ." (Just,
1936). Later in Just's "Status of my research program in embryology . . ." to Lillie.
apparently written in 1939, he states "as a law that differentiation during development
never appears without attendant progressive synthesis of nucleoprotein" (Just,
1939b). Believing the increase of nuclear substance to be effected in the cytoplasm
he proposes
a more exact study of nucleo-protein synthesis to embrace as many different
types of eggs as possible. . . . My measurements, up to now as rough as those
of others who had made such, I can refine. The aim here is to follow by careful
observation and experiment the moment to moment changes in the cytoplasm
as the nuclei are built up, to correlate them with nuclear synthesis and thus to
derive a biological law of general validity for all cells undergoing differentiation.
Could the aging biologist. Just, have learned these techniques? Could he have
determined that DNA is not synthesized in the cytoplasm and then have learned
more about the division of labor within cells? Could he, like Loeb and Morgan,
have achieved genuinely important contributions to our understanding of cellular
biology relatively late in life? We cannot know, but understand that his thread of
an idea might have become the rope on which he might have climbed into the
modern cellular science of the post-war world.
CLOSING REMARKS
A look at the newly assembled Archives at the MBL reveals old data and new
questions. How did these perpetually quibbling, quarreling, or warring scientists live
together, experiment, and survive and grow professionally? How had Woods Hole
in 1923 become an impossible place for a decent scientist to live in? And what was
a decent scientist? Will we be able to develop historians of biology who will know
enough history and enough science, as well as a few other essential disciplines?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My inquiries into our Archives and other sources in our Library were greatly
helped by the assistance given to me by Mrs. Ruth Davis and Ms. Carol Horgan,
Archivists, Ms. Jane Fessenden and staff of the MBL Library, and by Homer Smith,
136 S. S. COHEN
the interested General Manager of the MBL. I wish also to thank the MBL for its
Hospitality and permission to publish the Just-Lillie items from its Archives. It is a
great pleasure to acknowledge weekly discussions with Dr. Garland Allen and his
associates of the MBL History of Biology Seminar, whose research had impinged at
every turn on my own studies. I also with to thank Mrs. Rita Krant for secretarial
assistance.
LITERATURE CITED
CHITTENDEN, R. 1930. Development of Physiological Chemistry in the United States. The Chemical
Catalog Company, Inc., New York. 427 pp.
COHN, E. J., AND J. T. EDSALL. 1943. Proteins, Amino Acids and Peptides as Ions and Dipolar Ions.
Reinhold Publishing Corporation, New York. 686 pp.
FLEMING, D. 1973. Jacques Loeb. Dictionary of Scientific Biography VIII: 445-447.
FLORKIN, M. 1972.' Comprehensive Biochemistry. Vol. 30. A History oj Biochemistry. Elsevier Publishing
Company, Amsterdam. 343 pp.
HARVEY, E. B. 1956. The American Arbacia and Other Sea Urchins. Princeton University Press,
Princeton. 298 pp.
HARVEY, E. N. 1958. Albert Prescott Mathews, biochemist. Science 127: 743-744.
JUST, E. E. to Lillie, F. R. Letter of 26 Nov. 1936. Lillie-Just File, MBL.
JUST, E. E. 1939a. The Biology of the Cell Surface. P. Blakiston & Son & Co., Philadelphia. 392 pp.
JUST, E. E. 1939b. Status of my research program in embryology and its implications for general biology.
Lillie-Just File, MBL.
KOHLER, R. E. 1982. From Medical Chemistry to Biochemistry: The Making of a Biomedical Discipline.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 399 pp.
LOEB, J. 1892. Investigations in physiological morphology. III. Experiments on cleavage. J. Morp/iol. 1:
253-262.
LOEB, J. 1899. On the nature of the process of fertilization and the artificial production of normal larvae
(Plutei) from the unfertilized eggs of the sea urchin. Am. J. Physiol. 3: 135-138.
LOEB, J. 1914a. Is the antagonistic action of salts due to oppositely charged ions? J. Biol. Chem. 19: 431-
443.
LOEB, J. 1914b. Science and race. Crisis IX: 92-93.
LOEB, J. 1924. Proteins and the Theory of Colloidal Behavior, 2nd ed. McGraw-Hill Book Company,
Inc., New York. 380 pp.
LOEB, J., AND W. F. EWALD. 1916. Chemical stimulation of nerves. J. Biol. Chem. 25, 377-390.
MANNING, K. R. 1983. Black Apollo of Science: The Life of Ernest Everett Just. Oxford University Press,
New York. 397 pp.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1900a. Artificially produced mitotic division in unfertilized Arbacia eggs. J. Boston Soc.
Med. Sci. 5: 13-17.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1900b. Some ways of causing mitotic division in unfertilized Arbacia eggs. Am. J.
Physiol. 4: 343-347.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1901. Artificial parthenogenesis produced by mechanical agitation. Am. J. Physiol. 6:
142-154.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1902. The nature of nerve stimulation and of changes in irritability. Science 15: 492-
498.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1903. The nature of nerve irritability, and of chemical and electrical stimulation. Science
17: 729-733.
MATHEWS, A. P. 1936. Principles of Biochemistry. William Wood and Company, Baltimore. 512 pp.
MORGAN, T. H. 1893. Experimental studies on echinoderm eggs. Anat. An:. 9: 141-152.
NORMAN, W. W. 1896. Segmentation of the nucleus without segmentation of the protoplasm. Arch.
Entwicklungsmech. 3: 106-126.
PAULY, P. J. 1980. Jacques Loeb and the control of life: an experimental biologist in Germany and
America, 1859-1924. Ph.D. Dissertation, The Johns Hopkins University. 311 pp.
WILSON, E. B. 1901. Experimental studies in cytology I. A cytological study of artificial parthenogenesis
in sea urchin egg. Arch. Entwicklungsmech. 12: 529-596.
WILSON, E. B., AND A. P. MATHEWS. 1895. Maturation, fertilization and polarity in the echinoderm egg.
New light on the "quadrille of the centers." J. Morphol. 10: 319-342.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1892. "Report of the Director of the Marine Biological Laboratory for the Fifth Session,
1892," pp. 29-36.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 137-152. (June, 1985)
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES AND THE NEURON:
PERSONALITIES AND ENCOUNTERS IN A UNIQUE INSTITUTION
ERNST FLOREY
Fakultat j'iir Biologic der Universitdt Konstanz, D-775 Konstan:, FRG.
INTRODUCTION
When the young Dozent of Comparative Anatomy at the University of Jena,
Dr. Anton Dohrn, became obsessed with the idea of building a Zoological Laboratory
on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea at Naples, his enthusiasm was riding the
crest of a wave of excitement that had spread throughout Europe and eventually
reached the North American continent. It was the excitement generated by Darwin's
new theory of evolution which was so infectious because it reinforced the new
tendency towards a rational and mechanistic explanation of life phenomena that
had already been in full development.
The science of Zoology had only recently been established. Only five years
earlier, in 1865, Ernst Haeckel had been appointed professor of Zoology at the
University of Jena on the recommendation of the great Karl Gegenbaur, then
professor of Anatomy and Zoology at the same university, and was provided with
a new Zoological Institute. This was the year in which Anton Dohrn received his
Ph.D. degree at the University of Breslau under Eduard Adolf Grube (who had
been appointed Professor of Zoology there in 1857). Dohrn had studied under
Haeckel in 1862, after Haeckel had just become Extraordinarius of Comparative
Anatomy in Gegenbaur's institute. In 1868, Dohrn became Privatdozent of Zoology
in Jena, but later, in the same year we find him already in England and Scotland,
and in 1869 at Messina in southern Italy, carrying out embryological studies on
marine organisms. What a restless character he must have been: while a student, he
changed universities five times! From the University of Konigsberg he went to
Bonn, then to Jena, moved to Berlin, and finally received his degree at Breslau. He
was indeed a man of action: within a span of only three years after his return from
Messina he had established the Zoological Station at Naples which opened its doors
in 1873! It must be remembered, however, that at that time the Zoological Station
was not yet the international institution it was to become. The Stazione Zoologica
was built with Dohrn's private funds. Indeed, the contract with the city of Naples
which granted him the right to use the land on which he had built his institute was
signed, but two years later. All along it had been Dohrn's intention, however, to
offer the services of his institute to scientists from all countries. To make this
possible he sought, and obtained, on the recommendations of some of the most
important scientists of his time, funds from scientific institutions and governments
of many countries to whom he "rented" research facilities: the so-called "tables."
From the beginning Dohrn regarded Zoology as an experimental science and
saw the main thrust in the development of morphology, embryology, and physiology.
He seized the newly won status of zoology which he described so emphatically in
his programmatic paper on "the present state of Zoology and the founding of
zoological stations" which appeared in the Preussische Jahrbiicher (vol. 30) in 1872:
When thus Zoology with all its branches has acquired new stature and importance,
it is not surprising that in zoological circles everyone labors with redoubled
137
138 E. FLOREY
energy. As after a great victory the members of the victorious nation appear
among the other nations with elated selfconfidence and are — albeit grudgingly-
regarded by them with increased respect, so appear the Zoologists in the midst
of the other scholars in the full consciousness that it is their science that has
developed and brought to maturity the greatest concept of modern research, and
that it is their task to nurse and extend it, and that the other sciences must
receive it and must be fertilized and reformed by it.
In this important publication, Dohrn spelled out the new goals of Zoology: to study
the basis of natural selection (naturliche Ziichtung) and to investigate the evolutionary
origins of animal adaptation to the environment. Dohrn envisions an ecologically
oriented comparative physiology and emphasizes the need to explain organ functions
on the basis of adaptation and evolutionary history. The foundation of zoological
stations should provide the ideal places where such a science could be developed.
Dohrn saw, however, another important task in the foundation of marine
stations: the opportunities they offer for the rising generation of zoologists. He
wanted to provide promising young zoologists with the freedom to carry out research
in the most conducive environment a zoologist can find, and to free them from
financial worries for the time of their stay at the zoological station.
FRIDTJOF NANSEN: THE STRUCTURE OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM
The motivation to encourage and support promising young zoologists must have
prompted Dohrn to accept, in 1886, a young Norwegian zoologist by the name of
Fridtjof Nansen as a guest of the Stazione Zoologica, at a time when neither
Norway, nor any of the other Scandinavian countries had reached financial
agreements with the Zoological Station. Nansen was keenly interested in a problem
that engaged both physiologists and histologists in heated debates: the relationship
between ganglion cells and nerve fibers, the nature of the nervous impulse and the
cellular basis of the functioning of the brain. Nansen had been led to these questions
through his investigation of a class of parasitic annelids, the myzostomids. When
he studied the histology of their nervous system he found himself confronted with
this fundamental issue and had to discover that the existing research literature could
not help to resolve it. He felt impelled to carry out comparative studies.
Nansen has become famous not for his work in zoology, or neurohistology, but
for his exploration of the arctic. With Sverdrup he crossed Greenland (two years
after his stay at Naples), and from 1890 to 1896 he carried out his exploration of
the north pole. As high commissioner of the League of Nations he introduced (in
1921) the famous Nansen-passport, and in 1922 he received the Nobel peace prize.
His earlier accomplishments as a scientist and explorer have been recorded in a
very readable biography by W. C. Broegger and Nordahl Rolfsen: "Fridtjof Nansen
1861-1893" (1896). This book contains a 22-page chapter entitled "In Naples"
which describes, partly in Nansen's own words (quoted from his 1887 article in
Naturen), the Zoological Station and the great impression Anton Dohrn made upon
the receptive mind of the young Nansen.
Nansen, then Curator at the Museum of Natural History at Bergen, Norway,
was only 25 years old when he came to Naples. He was dissatisfied with the
prevalent histological techniques then available for the study of the structure of the
nervous system. He was open-minded enough to recognize the great potential of
the new staining method invented and developed by Camillo Golgi at Pavia. A
born explorer, he immediately set out to travel to Pavia to get first-hand knowledge
of the new method. In 1885 Nansen had won the Joachim Friele gold medal for
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES
139
JOH. v. d. FEHR
BERGEN.
FIGURE 1. Fridtjof Nansen sent this portrait to Anton Dohrn. On its back he wrote the following
dedication: "Dem Herrn Prof. Dr. A. Dohrn mit vorziiglicher Hochachtung zur freundlichen Erinnerung
von Fridjof Nansen Bergen 3. April 1887" (Private archive of the Dohrn Family).
140 E. FLOREY
his work on that peculiar class of annelid worms, the Myzostoma (today known as
Myzostomida). He accepted the medal in copper and used the value of the gold for
his traveling expenses. After a short stay at Pavia he continued to Naples where he
was assigned a working space in a large upstairs laboratory already occupied by five
other scientists. The Zoological Station had already been open for a dozen years.
Numerous countries supported it in exchange for the right to one or more "research
tables" for their respective scientists. Norway at that time did not yet participate,
and it was due to the generosity of the director of the Statione Zoologica that
Nansen was given the opportunity to spend two months at this institution. Upon
his return to Norway, Nansen published an article on the Zoological Station in the
Norwegian popular science magazine Naturen. Excerpts can be found, in English
translation, in Brogger and Rolfsen's Nansen Biography of 1 896. Nansen's enthusiasm
for Anton Dohrn's work and achievements can be gleaned from these quotations:
The whole basement of the great building is fitted up as an aquarium for the
general public; an aquarium which it would certainly be difficult to rival. This
great room, with its many tanks, is soberly decorated, with a complete avoidance
of all humbug [sic] or fantastic ornament, which would only serve to distract the
attention from its essential purposes. It has a great attraction not only for the
ordinary traveller, but for the scientific student as well. Down here he is able to
pass hours in communion with nature, and face to face with the rarest of marine
organisms, and in a comparatively brief time he may learn more of the life of
the world than he could by long grubbing in volumes of printed wisdom, or
rooting through the dead treasures of museums. He will contract the habit of
using his eyes and of his powers of observation upon living nature, and learn to
regard life as the essential object of research.
Acquaintance with the Station, for the majority of tourists, does not extend
beyond this room. Far more important to science, however, are the laboratories
situated in the upper stories of the building. Here naturalists from almost all
European countries are at work, here they have everything they can possibly
require for their studies. They can come to the Station, sit down at the work-
table assigned to them, tell the Curator, Salvatore Lo Bianco, what particular
animals they want, and presently the animals are brought alive to their very
tables, where they can study them at leisure, with no need to stir from their
places except for meals and sleep. Instruments, smaller tanks in which to keep
the animals alive, and an excellent library, are all just at hand. This concentration
of appliances is the novel and important feature of the institution. ... If the
workers are tired of the laboratory, they are free to go out in the vessels belonging
to the Station, and watch the gathering in of fresh specimens. Beside several
fishing boats, the Station owns two small steamers. . . . These steamers and
boats are equipped for dredging, trawling, net-fishing, surface-fishing, and so
forth. They are also supplied with diving apparatus, so that in this way, too, you
can fetch up whatever you want.
What was it that Nansen wanted to accomplish at Naples; what actually did he
accomplish? When his biographer W. C. Brogger inquired of Anton Dohrn what he
remembered of Nansen's stay in his laboratory, Dohrn felt somewhat embarrassed
that he could not be of much assistance; all he could recall was that Nansen was
working "mainly on Amphioxus and on Selachians, making use of the new Golgi
method." Dohrn recalled, however, that Nansen was "a smart dancer, who certainly
did not disdain the company of lively ladies. I believe not to err when I report to
you that a beautiful Scottswoman competed dangerously with his studies and
presumably was the cause of his exchanging Naples for Rome earlier than he had
originally intended."
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 141
In actual fact, Nansen had used his time very well indeed. Of course, the
research he did at Naples was only a part of a wider ranging endeavor. He continued
his comparative studies on the nervous system in Bergen where he also received
from Naples more specimens of A mph ioxus, "most excellently prepared in different
ways by Salvatore Lo'Bianco." Already at Naples he had immersed himself in a
thorough study of the research literature. It seems incredible that already in 1887,
only one year after his return from Naples, where, after all, he had spent only two
months, Nansen published a 214-page monograph with 11 plates, entitled The
Structure and Combination of the Histological Elements of the Central Nervous
System. Fully 80 pages of the monograph are devoted to the history of the subject.
His literature list is respectable and amounts to no less than 21 pages. In this very
illuminating account of the research of others and of his own, Nansen reaches
conclusions about the general structure and function of nervous systems. Because
he investigates ganglion cells mostly in invertebrates, and studies only the spinal
ganglion cells of vertebrates, he assumes that ganglion cells have mainly a nutritive
function. He correctly interprets the nature of what Franz Leydig had called the
"Punktsubstanz" and what later became to be known as the neuropil, as being
composed of innumerable fine nerve branches. He also correctly interprets the
course of nervous excitation during reflex actions. As to the connections between
ganglion cells and nerve fibers he is somewhat ambiguous but favors the view that
nerve fibers are outgrowths of ganglion cells.
It may seem surprising that Nansen does not once mention the work and ideas
of Anton Dohrn on the subject, but Dohrn's research on the nature of nerve cells
and ganglion cells had not yet advanced to the stage of publication, and the subject
may never have come up in conversation between these two men. There was,
however, an Hungarian neurohistologist working at the Zoological Station who
certainly influenced greatly the thinking of Anton Dohrn, and who also was well
acquainted with Fridtjof Nansen. He was Stephan von Apathy from Koloszvar.
Apathy had developed a staining method involving gold-chloride, formic acid,
methylene blue, and hematein, which permitted the demonstration of a "Fibrillen-
gitter" ganglion cells and nerve fibers were shown to contain fibrils. Apathy's
preparations seemed to indicate that these fibrils formed a continuous network
throughout the nervous system. The fibrils were seen to cross from one cell process
to the next at their contact points. Apathy considered these fibrils to be the true
conducting structures of the nervous system. Apathy was indeed an excellent
histologist, and his superb preparations convinced and influenced many of the
leading histologists, among them Wilhelm His, Franz Nissl, Max Bielschowsky, and
Hans Held.
That it should have been possible to subscribe to the notion that the neurofibrils
(to use a modern term) are the "conducting elements" of the nervous system is
almost incredible when one remembers that electrophysiologists (Du Bois-Reymond,
Hermann, Bernstein) had long before established the electrical nature of the nerve
impulse: it would have been inconceivable to the biophysically trained physiologists
that separate action currents can be conducted within a given nerve cell or even
within a nerve process. Evidently, electrophysiology (today this would be called
biophysics) was not taken that seriously by the histologists, and even a physiologist
like Albrecht Bethe became so impressed by Apathy's results that he was willing to
accept the hypothesis that the fibrils and not the nerve fibers are the true elements
(or 'units' as we would say today) of the nervous system.
In their Nansen biography, Brogger and Rolfsen (1896) quote a letter evidently
written to them by Apathy, who reminisces about the life he and others shared with
142 E. FLOREY
Nansen while they were at Naples. "One of these friends, a Hungarian scientist,"
they state,
writes to us: 'He was the life of all our little festivities. Most of the students then
working at the Station were in the habit of meeting at the Cafe Basta on the
Corso Vittoriao Emmanuele; every evening at suppertime there was a little feast
here, a musical gathering, light-hearted and refreshing in the highest degree.
Nansen contributed greatly to the prevailing gaiety. It some times happened that
we devotees of science became so enlivened with wine and music, that we
proceeded to dance a quadrille; and on these occasions Nansen was Master of
Ceremonies.
'Once we chartered a carriage to drive to Castellamare and Sorrento by the
famous coast road. On the way, another carriage with two ladies came up behind
us. The ladies amused themselves by racing us and laughing at us as they shot
past; whereupon Nansen sprang out of the carriage and ran by the side of the
horse a long stretch of the way. Thus we overtook the ladies again, to the
unbounded merriment of both parties.
'In Sorrento Nansen met some Norwegian ladies. I was very tired and went
to bed; but the Norwegian ladies wanted to get up a dance, and as there was a
scarcity of partners, my presence was required. Nansen declined to give a
moment's peace till I got up and dressed myself. Then he dragged me into the
drawing-room, where we were greeted with loud applause by the ladies, who
were quite alive to the situation.
'At other times he would be quiet and absorbed, and would sit by the hour
without uttering a word. I have seen him at the foot of Vesuvius, among the
ruins of San Sebastiano, and on the melancholy lava-wastes. San Sebastiano was
devasted by the eruption of 1874; nothing was left but a church. I have seen him
sitting on a block of lava there by the church, hour after hour without stirring;
he simply sat and gazed out into the distance. Time after time we others tried to
make a start, and called to him — he never moved. Afterwards, on the way home,
as he and I walked together, arm in arm, I tried to make him talk, but found
him absolutely mute — there was not a word to be got out of him.'
ANTON DOHRN: THE NERVE FIBER
Before continuing with Stephan von Apathy and his impact through the
Zoological Station at Naples, let me return once again to Anton Dohrn. With an
immense effort, Dohrn occupied himself with his "Studien zur Urgeschichte des
Wirbelthierkorpers" (Studies on the early history of the vertebrate body). As by a
magnet he was drawn to the problem of the structure of the nervous system which
he tried to resolve by studying lower vertebrates and their embryological development.
It was a heroic effort of trying to understand the central nervous system of higher
vertebrates on the basis of Haeckel's "biogenetic law," the notion that ontogeny
recapitulates phylogeny and that any structure found in higher organisms must have
its primitive counterpart in the earlier stages of evolution as represented in primitive
animals. The question was, in Dohrn's words, "is the nerve fiber an outgrowth of
the ganglion cell? or is it composed of numerous cells, the exponent of which can
be regarded the Schwann nuclei?" Dohrn called the decision of this question "the
foundation of our ideas about the nervous system." In the 16th of his "studies" he
comes to the definite conclusion that the nerve fiber arises through the fusion of
Schwann cells and that "the central ganglion cells have nothing to do with the
beginning of the axis cylinder or the entire formation of the nerve fiber." Ganglion
cell and nerve fiber are connected by contact, they are not genetically related. In
his views, Dohrn finds himself supported by Apathy whom he quotes extensively.
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 143
Shortly after publication of his 16th "Studie" in 1891, Dohrn was plagued by
doubts about the correctness of his interpretations. He rushed into print a retraction
in the Anatomischer Anzeiger (vol. 7, p. 348). The famous Anatomist Albert
Koelliker had announced a Lecture to be given at the Congress of Anatomists to
be held in Munich with the ominous title "Ueber die Entwicklung der Elemente
des Nervensystems, contra BEARD and DOHRN." Because of Dohrn's retraction,
the actual lecture had the simpler title ". . . contra BEARD." Ten years later,
Dohrn decided that he should not have retracted his views. His doubts, he said in
his 20th "Studie," had been mainly "of subjective origin, and were due to a nervous
depression caused by overwork, climatic and other influences, the like of which I
unfortunately had to suffer repeatedly due to the abrasive work and the complicated
conditions of life connected with my position as director of the Zoological Station"
(p. 139, vol. 15 of the Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel, 1901).
It would be unfair to judge Anton Dohrn by his, by present standards, misguided
endeavor to solve once and for all the enigma of the cellular relationship between
ganglion cell and nerve fiber. Dohrn's vision was far more wide ranging, and truly
important. He clearly saw the need to encourage the development of comparative
physiology and biological chemistry, and he was able to generate interest in the
enormous potential of a marine laboratory for the expansion of knowledge in this
important area of experimental biology. Many of the important physiologists were
attracted to the Zoological Station, among them Max Verworn, Sigmund Exner,
Jaques Loeb, Willem v. Einthoven, and Jacob von Ueuxkiill.
In 1906 Dohrn created, with newly acquired funds, departments for physiology
and for physiological chemistry in the Zoological Station; he employed H. Burian
and M. Henze as heads of these departments. Dohrn motivated Otto von Fiirth to
write the influential I'erg/eichende chemische Physiologic niederer Tiere (Jena,
1903), probably the first text of biological chemistry. There can be no doubt that it
was due to the influence of Anton Dohrn and his Zoological Station that Winterstein
was induced to publish the monumental Handbuch der vergleichenden Physiologic
(published in eight volumes between 1911 and 1925, together no less than 9321
pages!): almost all of the authors had been working at the Zoological Station. Like
this Station, the Handbuch was an international affair: the contributing authors
hailed from eight different countries.
Already in the late 1890"s, Hermann J. Jordan had been Dohrn's private
assistant. Later, Jordan was to become one of the most influential comparative
physiologists. On the recommendation of Jordan, T. H. Morgan appointed two of
Jordan's pupils to important posts at the California Institute of Technology:
C. A. G. Wiersma, and A. van Harreveld. The work of these great neurobiologists
thus reflects the heritage of Anton Dohrn.
ALBRECHT BETHE: GANGLION CELL AND REFLEX
The neuron doctrine, enunciated by Wilhelm Waldeyer in his famous paper in
the Deutsche Medizinische Wochenschrift of 1891, was welcomed by physiologists.
But neurohistologists like Held, Nissl, and others, continued either to oppose it or
to regard it with utmost caution. In 1896, Albrecht Bethe, a pupil of Goltz in
StaOburg, later professor of Physiology at Frankfurt, came to Naples to study the
nervous system of the shore crab, Carcinus. His goal was a complete histological
and physiological description of the neurons in what he then considered to be a
"simple nervous system." His encounter with Apathy forced him to completely
revise his ideas about structure and function of nervous systems. In his important
144 E. FLOREY
book Allgcmeine Anatomic und Physiologic des Nervensystems, published in 1903,
Bethe writes that he had been skeptical at first of Apathy's papers:
because of the aprioristic form in which they were written, and because of the
peculiarity of the result which were suported either with no pictures at all, or
with only schematic illustrations. My doubts disappeared rapidly, however, when
Mr. von Apathy, on the occasion of our meeting at the Zoological Station at
Naples in the Fall of 1896, had the kindness to show me his preparations. On
the evening before this memorable day I had still told him that I considered
what he had published outside of all possibilities, and that it must be due to self-
deception when he thought that he could follow such fine fibrils individually for
millimeters. What has been shown to me then, however, was of such convincing
clarity, that I was forced, after some pretended objections, to relinquish my
opposition. What happened to me was experienced by many others, and nobody
of normal vision can elude the convincing impression of Apathy's preparations
unless his eye is beclouded with envy or injured vanity.
As a consequence of his "conversion," Bethe looked at the nervous system as a
syncytium. The ganglion cells were unnecessary to explain reflex actions, as he
demonstrated by an experiment that henceforth would be known in the literature
and in physiology texts as the "Bethe experiment." In Naples, working with
Carcinus, Bethe did the following experiment: he removed the ganglion cells that
surround the neuropil of the second antennae, severed the connections between this
neuropil and the rest of the nervous system, and cut the esophageal commisures.
He noted that the antennae still maintained their tonus and that they were held
stiffly in their normal raised position. When mechanically stimulated the antennae
were retracted, but afterwards were once again extended. From this experiment
Bethe concluded that ganglion cells are either unnecessary for these reflexes to
occur, or the reflex arcs do not go through the ganglion cells. As he was convinced
now that it is the fibrils which serve as the connecting elements, he concluded that
the "Primitivfibrillen" (the elementary fibrils of which the composite fibrils are
composed) are the true conducting elements of the nervous system.
Bethe's experiment was widely quoted by those opposing the neuron doctrine.
Indeed, Bethe himself declared "we must stop considering the neuron as a physio-
logical unit and must admit that one and the same neuron is capable of many
diverse actions, depending on which fibrillar tract is in operation."
The Zoological Station at Naples was indeed a cross-roads of the biological
sciences. The meeting there between Apathy and Dohrn who became close friends,
gave Dohrn the needed confidence that he was on the right track, that he had solved
the riddle of the fundamental cellular nature of the vertebrate nervous system.
Dohrn's work in turn gave affirmation, as did Apathy's work, to the many
histologists (and physiologists) who opposed the neuron doctrine. The meeting of
Apathy and Bethe led Bethe to completely reconsider his ideas about the structure
and function of the nervous system. In 1893, Bethe had set out to completely
describe the nervous system of what he considered to be a simple animal using
neurohistological techniques as well as physiological experiments. He went to Naples
with the express idea of "mapping the nervous system," of describing all its neurons
and their interconnections — a task which has not been tried again until C. A. G.
Wiersma began his pioneering studies of the central nervous system of crayfish in
the late 1950's at the California Institute of Technology (see Identified Neurons and
Behavior of Arthropods, edited by G. Hoyle, 1977). Bethe could have accomplished
much of what neurobiologists started to do six decades later, had he not been
discouraged by the histological findings of Apathy which he was able to confirm in
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 145
his own work on Carcinm carried out at Naples. It is touching to read the final
passage of his third report on his Carcinus experiments which was published
in 1998:
When I began this work three years ago, I expected to advance with my knowledge
of the anatomical structure of the Nervous system of Carcinus to a point where
I could describe about all the nervous elements and their branches. After
preliminary studies I considered their interconnections not to be too complicated,
and I believed I should be able to clearly reveal the significance of each by
physiological experiment. At that time it seemed that if this was achieved we
would be very much closer to an understanding of the nervous system. The
epochal work of Apathy has shaken this hope in its foundations.
It would now be necessary to discover the course of each single fibril — "and this
is unthinkable. As I now overlook my whole work, I reach the sad conclusion that
nothing has been gained from it for our factual knowledge. Were there not
satisfaction in the search for knowledge, one would have to say in resignation: it is
too difficult for us humans,"
The "Bethe experiment'" on Carcinus has been a stumbling block for the general
acceptance of the neuron doctrine which holds that the axon is an outgrowth of a
ganglion cell, that all nerve cells are ganglion cells (while Schwann cells like most
other cells of the nervous system, are glia cells), and that each neuron is a separate
unit which does not fuse anywhere with another cell, contacts being only in the
nature of synapses. In 1909 the famous Otto Langendorff, writing in Nagel's
authoritative Handbuch der Physiologic des Menschen, debates the Bethe experiment.
He accepts Bethe's conclusions as valid for crustaceans but expresses the opinion
that "reflexes of invertebrates are perhaps of a lower level," hence the neuron theory
can still be valid for vertebrates. As late as 1927, another well known German
physiologist, Emil Abderhalden, states in his textbook of Physiology (Lehrbuch der
Physiologic, 1927, p. 115) that it is "an established fact" that the nervous system is
constituted of cells which are interconnected by strands of fibrils. Bethe's experiment
on Carcinus plays an important role in Abderhalden's arguments.
STEPHAN VON APATHY: NEUROFRIBRILS
In the history of neurohistology, Stephan von Apathy has been of great
importance. The major breakthrough was the development of new staining methods
while he was working at the Stazione Zoologica at Naples. For three years (1886-
1889) Apathy occupied the Hungarian "research table" at Naples. Anton Dohrn
assigned to him the task of writing a monograph on the Hirudinea for the now
famous Fauna und Flora des Golfes von Neapel. Both men became close friends.
Apathy based much of his later speculations on the fine-structure of the nervous
system on whole-mount preparations of the gastrointestinal tract of the marine
leech Pantobdella muricata. His publications, especially his paper "Das leitende
Element des Nervensystems und seine topographischen Beziehungen zu den Zellen,"
published in 1897 in the Zoological Station's "house journal," the then prestigious
Mittheilungen aus der Zoologischen Station zu Neapel (vol. 12), generated excitement
and heated debate among neurohistologists.
In 1870, Apathy was appointed to the chair of Zoology at the University of
Kolozsvar. He was 27 years old. A few years later he was also in charge of the
chairs of histology and embryology (see the biography by A. Abraham, 1963).
Kolozsvar is the Hungarian name of the former capital of Transylvania, an old
Hungarian settlement which, mostly in the 13th century, received German settlers
146 E. FLOREY
and was named Klausenberg. It became part of the Austrian empire in 1691, and
was claimed and occupied by Hungary in 1848. As Albrecht Bethe remembers in
his obituary of Stephan von Apathy, who died in 1922, von Apathy returned
unopened any letter addressed to him at "Klausenburg." His Hungarian nationalism
was so strong that he refused to travel through Austria, an attitude which made it
a matter of some complexity to reach the Zoological Station at Naples. Stimulated
by the example of Anton Dohrn's accomplishments at Naples, Apathy instituted a
"table system" at his institute and provided foreign scientists with laboratory space
where they could carry out histological studies and get acquainted with his widely
acclaimed techniques. Among his guests were Albrecht Bethe, Wilhelm Waldeyer,
and a Dutch histologist, J. Boeke, who later became a famous neurohistologist and
extended Apathy's studies to the mammalian autonomic nervous system. Boeke
remained critical of the neuron theory and maintained that autonomic nerve fibers
terminated in a terminal reticulum composed of (neuro)fibrils. Typical of his point
of view is his paper of 1949 "The sympathetic end formation, its synaptology, the
interstitial cells, the periterminal network, and its bearing on the neuron theory"
(Acta Anatomica 8: 18-61). Like Anton Dohrn, Apathy traveled widely to many
European universities and became personally acquainted with the best scientists of
his day. He put his whole effort into establishing a new "Zoological Station" at
Koloszvar, and in 1909 his new Zoological Institute, one of the finest in all of
Europe, was opened — complete with loggias and extensive facilities for the mainte-
nance of freshwater and marine animals. As in Naples, the public facilities (the
aquaria, museum, lecture rooms), were on the lower floor, the two upper floors
contained the research laboratories, the administration, and the library.
How Apathy would have liked to show off his accomplishment to his friend
Dohrn! Fate decided otherwise: on 3 October 1909, Apathy attended the funeral
service for Anton Dohrn at Jena.
With the end of the first world war, the golden era of Apathy's institute and of
his scientific career came to a sudden end. Apathy had become a politician but
could not prevent the take-over of Transylvania by Rumania. When he was released
from prison, he accepted a position at the Hungarian University at Szeged and tried
once again to create a new zoological institute. He no longer had the strength; he
died two years later.
J. C. ALEXANDROWICZ: STRETCH RECEPTOR NEURONS
Stephen von Apathy had survived Anton Dohrn by eleven years. In the
meantime, the directorship of the Zoological Station at Naples had been transferred
to Anton Dohrn's son Reinhard Dohrn, who, except for his years of exile during
1915-1924, conducted the affairs of the Zoological Station at Naples, guiding this
prestigious and precious institution through the political turmoils of a nationalistic
era and the so-difficult war and post-war years until he relinquished his leadership
to his son Pietro Dohrn in 1954. (The accomplishments of Pietro Dohrn and the
later history of the Zoological Station have been critically reviewed in leading
articles in Science, 1969, and in Nature, 1983).
Reinhard Dohrn's diplomatic activities succeeded in 1924 to reach an agreement
with Polish authorities to establish a Polish research table at the Stazione Zoologica.
One of the faithful scientists using this table was J. C. Alexandrowicz, professor of
ophthalmology, and from 1937 Undersecretary of State in the Polish Ministry of
Education. Alexandrowicz's meticulous neuro-anatomical studies of crustaceans and
cephalopods using methylene-blue staining techniques have earned him a sepcial
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 147
place in neurobiology. Perhaps his most important discovery, rivaled only by J. Z.
Young's discovery of the giant axons of squid, are the stretch receptor organs of
crustaceans. Although this discovery was made at Naples just before the second
world war, it became known to the scientific world only several years after the end
of the war: when the war started, Alexandrowicz became an officer of the Polish
military medical corps. After the defeat of Poland when this country was divided
up between Germany and the Soviet Union, Alexandrowicz was taken prisoner by
the Russian army, and then was sent with the Polish expeditionary force, known as
the Anders Army, to North Africa to help the British defeat the Germans. The
contingent, in which he served as education officer, never saw action. When the
war ended, Alexandrowicz was taken to England to become a farm laborer. It was
Reinhard Dohrn who traced him with the aid of the Red Cross, and, through his
connections with members of the Royal Society, initiated the establishment of a
special professorship for Alexandrowicz at the Marine Laboratory at Plymouth.
Alexandrowicz had lost all his valuable preparations. He now repeated his investi-
gations and in 1952 began his series of publications on the structure and histology
of crustacean stretch receptors that have become classics.
Alexandrowicz's investigations are the basis of important physiological work
that was begun almost immediately after their publication and led to those
discoveries (e.g., Kuffier and Eyzaguirre, 1955) that have become the key to our
understanding of how sensory neurons translate a stimulus into a series of nerve
impulses, how they encode stimulus strength into an impulse frequency. Alexan-
drowicz described an efferent innervation of the stretch receptor neurons which was
shown later to be purely inhibitory (Eyzaguirre and Kuffler, 1955). The crustacean
stretch receptor preparation thus became an important tool in the investigation of
inhibitory synaptic transmission. It was in these stretch receptor neurons that the
first evidence was obtained that 7-aminobutyric acid (GABA) is the transmitter
substance of inhibitory neurons, and that the transmitter action can be blocked by
picrotoxin (Florey, 1953; Bazemore et ai, 1957). Indeed, it can be said without
exaggeration that the stretch receptor neurons discovered by Alexandrowicz at the
Zoological Station at Naples have been a cornerstone in the development of
neurophysiology. To mention only two of the key findings: it was on stretch receptor
preparations that the Japanese physiologist K. Uchizono showed for the first time
that inhibitory nerve terminals are characterized by clear oval synaptic vesicles — in
contrast to cholinergic terminals which always contain clear round vesicles. The
work of the Swedish physiologist D. Ottoson on isolated stretch receptor neurons
provided the first clear proof that the site of initiation of the nerve impulse is not
the soma of the nerve cell, but the initial segment of its axon.
ERNST SCHARER: NEUROSECRETION
The Zoological Station has been instrumental in yet another important advance
in the field of neurobiology: the discovery of what has become known as "neurose-
cretion," the elaboration and secretion of hormones by nerve cells. In 1928 Ernst
Scharrer, then Assistent under Karl von Frisch at the Zoological Institute of the
University of Munich, was granted the use of a research table at the Zoological
Station at Naples. As he stated in a letter to Reinhard Dohrn, he wanted to fix the
brain of many species of fish, and "if possible to investigate, with the aid of
methylene blue staining, the innervation of the epiphysis." He discovered that
certain neurons in the midbrain show evidence of secretion, confirming earlier
findings of Carl Speidel (1919). With material from Naples, Scharrer continued his
148 E. FLOREY
studies on these "neuroglandular" cells of fishes and extended these studies to higher
vertebrates where the same cell type was found. After he had married another pupil
of von Frisch, Berta Scharrer, the inseparable couple continued to explore the
comparative aspects of "neurosecretion," as the phenomenon was soon to be called:
Berta Scharrer in invertebrates, Ernst Scharrer in vertebrates. Their association with
Reinhard Dohrn and the Zoological Station became important not only for the
development of this important field of neurobiology; the political situation in
Germany made life intolerable for the Scharrers, and it was Reinhard Dohrn who
helped with their emigration to the United States.
Already before the end of the second world war, in 1944, American scientists
like R. E. Cooker (Chapel Hill), A. R. Moore (Oregon), and Ernst Scharrer, urged
the president of the National Research Council (the precursor of the National
Science Foundation) and Italian authorities to reopen the Statione Zoologica and
to support the directorship of Reinhard Dohrn. Thanks to the untiring effort of
Ernst Scharrer, who had moved from Ohio to the Department of Anatomy at
Denver/Colordao, the National Research Council, as well as Columbia University
(Wilson Fund), the American Association for University Women, and the American
Society of Zoologists were persuaded to contribute funds in support of the Naples
Zoological Station. In the summer of 1946, the president of the National Research
Council, Ross Granville Harrison (whose activities at Woods Hole are discussed in
other contributions of this Symposium) set up a Committee, chaired by Ernst
Scharrer, to aid the Zoological Station at Naples. The Committee, which included
as its members E. G. Conklin, Mrs. E. B. Harvey, R. G. Harrison, S. Hecht, L. H.
Kleinholz, A. R. Moore, and H. H. Plough, met for the first time on 14 August
1946 at Woods Hole to decide on a program-in-aid to assist in the re-establishment
of the Zoological Station at Naples as an international center of biological research.
The program envisioned the establishment of additional American research tables,
a fund-drive to improve and enlarge the library, and a shipment of food for the
Mensa. Further plans concerned the modernization of the laboratory facilities and
research equipment. The activities of this committee led to contributions by the
Rockefeller Foundations and the UNESCO. The committee advised the Zoological
Station in matters of library acquisitions and the purchase of research equipment.
After 1950 the newly established National Science Foundation, the Lilly Endowment,
Inc., and the Rockefeller Foundation increased the American engagement in the
affairs of the Zoological Station enormously — but this is not the place to record the
international ramifications of the Zoological Station and the history of the material
support it has received from the international scientific community (which, after
all, includes members of other nations that have made substantial contributions to
the development of the Zoological Station). We return, therefore, to the topic of
the role of the Zoological Station at Naples in the development of neurobiology.
On the initiative of Ernst Scharrer and Wolfgang Bargmann, the Zoological
Station hosted, in 1953, the first International Symposium on Neurosecretion (this
was the fourth international symposium held at the Zoological Station). This event
has a special place in the history of biology because it was this symposium that
established the concept that neurons produce hormones and that neurosecretion is
an essential feature of the chemical control of animal development and function.
J. Z. YOUNG: GIANT AXONS, LEARNING AND MEMORY
It is impossible to review the relationship between the Zoological Station and
the neuron without mentioning the research on the giant axons of squid, discovered
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 149
by J. Z. Young in 1936 when he worked at this institution. Since Prof. Young will
review the history of this discovery in his lecture, it will be sufficient to restrict the
discussion here to some further development of research made possible by the
incredibly large size of the "giant synapses" between second- and third-order giant
axons. In 1966 Berhard Katz and Riccardo Miledi from the University College in
London came to the Stazione Zoologica to investigate the relationship between
calcium and transmitter release. Their experiments have become classics; they prove
that extracellular calcium is essential for transmitter release to occur and that
calcium ions enter the nerve terminal when this becomes depolarized by the
incoming presynaptic action potential.
The year-round availability of Octopus at Naples, and the recognition of the
advanced development of the brain of these animals has prompted Y. Z. Young to
embark, at the Statione Zoologica, on a study of learning and memory in these
creatures. This was made possible by a large grant to the Stazione Zoologica for the
establishment of a large "cephalopod facility" which, in its best days, included more
than two hundred tanks in which as many octopuses could be individually housed
and maintained. Together with several collaborators, especially Bryan Boycott,
Martin Wells, and John Messenger, he mapped the neuronal circuits of the octopus
brain and through ingenious training experiments he explored the learning ability
of these animals. These studies led to new concepts of the neuronal mechanisms
underlying memory. Several important monographs resulted from this research:
M. J. Wells: Brain and Behaviour in Cephalopods. 1962; J. Z. Young: A Model of
the Brain, 1964; J. Z. Young: The Anatomy of the Nervous System of Octopus
vulgaris, 1971; and J. Y. Young: Programs of the Brain, 1978.
CONCLUSION
By providing research facilities near the sea where marine animals can be readily
obtained and maintained, and, more importantly perhaps, by providing the intellectual
atmosphere conducive to intensive research and stimulating interaction with other
scientists, the Stazione Zoologica has permitted major advances in neurobiology to
occur. As long as this institution was able to pursue the goals envisioned by its
founder, Anton Dohrn, it was eminently successful. But such simple words cannot
explain the impact the Zoological Station at Naples had on biologists all over the
world. Intentionally I use the word 'biologists' and not the abstract form 'biology.'
The Stazione Zoologica has been dominated by the spirit of its former directors, by
the immense human dimension of its founder Anton Dohrn, by that great European,
Reinhard Dohrn ... all this has been attested to by so many public statements,
that no further emphasis is needed. The most recent eulogies were presented
(typically, in four languages) by dignitaries from many countries on the occasion of
the celebration of the 100th birthday of Reinhard Dohrn on 13 March 1980 in the
Vila Pignatelli in Naples (Reinhard Dohrn 1880-1962, edited by C. Groeben, 1983).
And yet, neither the location nor the personalities of the directors can explain
the miracle of the "Naples experience" (to quote Maurice Wilkins) or the affection
all those great scientists felt, and still feel, for the Zoological Station. Good research
institutes can be found in many places in many countries, and the Statione Zoologica
is certainly not among the best equipped laboratories — perhaps it never was! Nor
has it been attractive because it harbored a local scientific genius at whose feet it
was desirable to sit, in whose laboratory it was essential to learn methods unattainable
anywhere else. The idea of an international home for an international science, nay,
for the unfettered pursuit of the highest ideal of science, this original idea of Anton
150 E. FLOREY
Dohrn was so infectious, that, from the start, it caught the imagination of all those
great minds who came in contact with it: Charles Darwin, Thomas Henry Huxley,
Thomas Hunt Morgan, Edward Beecher Wilson, Hermann von Helmholtz, Emil
Du-Bois Reymond, Filippo Botazzi, Silvestro Baglioni — and Fridjof Nansen, Stephan
von Apathy, Albrecht Bethe, J. C. Alexandrowicz, Ernst Scharrer, J. Z. Young, but
also of Benedetto Croce, Theodor Heuss, . . . the list is endless.
The Zoological Station became a place of the mind, an ideal jointly possessed
and cherished by all those who experienced it. This is the reason why the organism
of the Zoological Station was able to survive: not because it was itself strong enough
to surmount all the adversities it encountered in its long history, but because it was
revived from the outside on the strength of the idea carried by the community of
all those who kept this idea alive and found ways to revitalize it both spiritually
and materially. Science is not an abstraction but an immensely human activity. It
is lived, not written, thus it needs a true home, not only a laboratory or an office.
The Zoological Station at Naples has been such a home and has been, and is being
regarded with that special kind of nostalgia accorded only to those special places in
which the true spirit of man is recognized. Thomas Hunt Morgan called it a "holy
city." Our present age would do well to live up to its tradition.
The brief histories given here are the stories of important scientists and of their
important discoveries. But they are also memorials of great ideals, passions, and
sacrifices, and they bear witness to the importance of a great dream which happened
to come to life at Naples in the Zoological Station, the creation of that remarkable
man, Anton Dohrn.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The passages quoted from the writings of Anton Dohrn, Albrecht Bethe, and
Ernst Scharrer, have been translated into English by myself. I am grateful to the
librarian of the Stazione Zoologica, Walter Groeben, for making available to me
the original sources of the scientific literature referred to. I am especially grateful to
Christiane Groeben for providing access to the Dohrn Archives which she has so
impressively filed and organized, and for providing copies of relevant documents
and correspondence. I am indebted to Professor John Edwards of the University of
Washington for introducing me to the Nansen biography of Brogger and Rolfsen
(1896), and for lending me his copy of Fridjof Nansen's so important, and unjustly
forgotten work The Structure and Combination of the Histological Elements of the
Central Nervous System (1886). Much of the biographical and historical information
on the history of the Zoological Station stems from the invaluable recent work by
Karl Josef Partsch Die Zoologische Station in Neapel, Model! internationaler
Wissenschaftszusammenarbeit which provides extensive documentation.
Important sources were the Geschichte der Mikroskopie edited by H. Freund
and A. Berg (vols. 1 and 2, 1963, 1964), Alfred Kiihn's important work Anton
Dohrn und die Zoologie seiner Zeit (1950), Theodor Heuss' biography of Anton
Dohrn (2nd edition, 1962), and the Festschrift Reinhard Dohrn 1880-1962 edited
by Christiane Groeben in collaboration with Antonie and Pietro Dohrn (1983).
LITERATURE CITED
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Vol. I, Hugo Freund and Alexander Berg, eds. Umschau Verlag. Frankfurt a.M.
ALEXANDROWICZ, J. S. 1951. Muscle receptor organs in the abdomen of Homarus vulgaris and Pali minis
vulgaris. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 92: 163-199.
THE ZOOLOGICAL STATION AT NAPLES 151
ALEXANDROWICZ, J. C. 1952. Receptor elements in the thoracic muscles of Homarns vulgaris and
Palinunts vulgaris. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 93: 315-346.
ALEXANDROWICZ, J. C. 1952. Muscle receptor organs in the Paguridae. J. Alar. Bio/. Assoc. U. K. 31:
77-286.
ANON. 1983. The Naples Zoological Station— The Woods Hole of Europe? Nature 303: 127-128.
VON APATHY, STEPHAN. 1897. Das leitende Element des Nervensystems und seine topographischen
Beziehungen zu den Zellen. Erste Mittheilung. Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel 12: 495-748.
BAZEMORE, ALVIN W., K. ALLEN, C. ELLIOTT, AND ERNST FLOREY 1957. Isolation of Factor I. J.
Neurochem. 1: 334-339.
BETHE, ALBRECHT. 1897. Das Centralnervensystem von Carcinus maenas. Ein anatomisch-physiologischer
Versuch. I. Theil. II. Mittheilung. Arch. Afikr. Anal. Entwicklungsgesch. 50: 460-546.
BETHE, ALBRECHT. 1897. Das Centralnervensystem von Carcinus maenas. Ein anatomisch-physiologischer
Versuch. I. Theil. II. Mittheilung. Arch. Mikr. Anal. Entwicklungsgesch. 50: 589-639.
BETHE, ALBRECHT. 1898. Das Centralnervensystem von Carcinus maenas. Ein anatomisch-physiologischer
Versuch. II. Theil. III. Mittheilung. Arch. Alikr. Anal. Entwicklungsgesch. 51: 382-452.
BETHE, ALBRECHT. 1904. Die historische Entwicklung der Ganglienzellhypothese. Ergebn. Phvsiol. 3:
195-213.
BIELSHOWSKI, MAX. 1908. Die fibrillare Struktur der Ganglienzelle. J. Psycho/. Neurol. 10: 274-281.
BOEKE, JAN. 1949. The sympathetic end formation, its synaptology, the interstitial cells, the pericardia!
network, and its bearing on the neuron theory. Ada Anal. 8: 18-61.
BOYCOTT, BRYAN B. 1954. Learning in Octopus vulgaris and other cephalopods. Puhbl. Sta:. Zool.
Napoli 25: 6-93.
BOYCOTT, BRYAN B., AND JOHN Z. YOUNG. 1955. A memory system in Octopus vulgaris Lamarck.
Proc. R. Soc. Land. B 143: 449-480.
BROEGGER, W. C., AND NORDAHL ROLFSEN. 1896. Fridtjof Nansen 1861-1893. Translated by William
Archer. Longmans, Green and Co., London, New York, Bombay. 402 pp.
DOHRN, ANTON. 1872. Der gegenwartige Stand der Zoologie und die Griindung zoologischer Stationen.
Preussische Jahrb. 30: 23-46.
DOHRN, ANTON. 1891. Studien zur Urgeschichte des Wirbelthierkorpers. 16. Uber die erste Anlage und
Entwicklung der Augenmuskelnerven bei Selchiern und das Einwandern von Medullarzellen in
die motorischen Nerven. Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel 10: 1-40.
DOHRN, ANTON. 1891. Die SCHWANN' schen Kerne der Selachierembryonen. Anal. Am. 7: 348.
DOHRN, ANTON. 1901. Studien zur Urgeschichte des Wirbelthierkorpers. 20. Die SCHWANN' schen
Kerne, ihre Herkunft und Bedeutung. Erwiderung an A. von Kolliker. Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel
15: 138-186.
EYZAGUIRRE, CARLOS, AND STEPHEN W. KUFFLER. 1955. Processes of excitation in the dendrites and
in the soma of single isolated sensory nerve cells of the lobster and crayfish. J. Gen. Phvsiol. 39:
87-119.
FLOREY. ERNST. 1953. Uber einen nervosen Hemmungsfaktor in Gehirn und Riickenmark. Naturwissen-
schaften 4: 295-296.
FREUND, HUGO, AND ALEXANDER BERG, eds. 1963, 1964. Geschichte der Mikroskopie, Vols. I and II.
Umschau Verlag Frankfurt a.M. 375: pp 506.
GROEBEN, CHRISTIANE, ed. 1983. Reinhard Dohrn, 1880-1962 Reden. Brief und Veroffentliehungen zum
100. Geburstag. Springer Verlag, Berlin, Heidelberg, Tokyo. 99 pp.
HELD, HANS. 1907. Kritische Bemerkungen zu der Verteidigung der Neuroblasten- und der Neuronentheorie
durch R. Cajal. Anal. An:. 30: 369-391.
HEUSS, THEODOR. 1962. Anton Dohrn. Reiner Wunderlich Verlag, Tiibingen. 448 pp.
HOYLE, GRAHAM. 1977. Identified Neurons and Behaviour in Arthropods. Plenum Press, New York and
London. 494 pp.
VON KOLLIKER, ALBRECHT. 1891. Die Lehre von den Beziehungen der nervosen Elemente zueinander.
Eroffnungsrede der anatomischen Gesellschaft in Miinchen 1891. Verh. Anal. Ges. 189: 1-22.
KUHN, ALFRED. 1950. Anton Dohrn und die Zoologie seiner Zeit. Pubbl. Sta:. Zool. Napoli. Suppl. 50:
1-205.
KUFFLER, STEPHEN W. AND CARLOS EYZAGUIRRE. 1955. Synaptic inhibition in an isolated nerve cell.
J. Gen. Phvsiol. 39: 155-184.
MESSENGER, JOHN B. 1979. Nerves, Brains and Behaviour. Arnold. London. 66 pp.
NANSEN, FRIDTJOF. 1887. The structure and combination of the histological elements of the central
nervous system. Bergens Museums Arsberetning for 1886: 27-214.
NISSL, FRANZ. 1903. Die Neuronenlehre und ihre Anhanger. Gustav Fischer Verlag. Jena. 478 pp.
PARTSCH, KARL JOSEF. 1980. Die Zoo/ogische Station in Neapel. Vandenhoeck & Rprecht, Gottingen.
369 pp.
Pubblicazioni delta Staiione Zoologica die Napoli, Vol. 24 Supplemento (1964) Reassunti delle Conferenze
152 E. FLOREY
tenute al Convegno sulla NEUROSECRETIONE 11/18— V— 1953 a Napoli. Summaries of
papers read at the symposium NEUROSECRETION May 1 1/ 18th— 1953, Naples. 98 pp.
SCMARRER, E. 1930. Uber sekretorisch ta'tige Zellen im Thalamus von Fundulus heteroclitus L.
(Untersuchungen iiber das Zwischenhirn der Fische. II.) Z. Vergl. Physiol. 11: 767-773.
SCHARRER, E. 1932. Die Sekretproduktion im Zwischenhirn einiger Fische. (Untersuchunge iiber das
Zwischenhirn der Fische. III.) Z Vergl. Physiol. 17: 491-509.
SCHARRER, ERNST, AND BERTA SCHARRER. 1945. Neurosecretion. Physiol. Rev. 25: 17-181.
SPEIDEL, CARL G. 1919. Gland-cells of internal secretion in the spinal cord of skates. Carnegie Insl.
Washington 13: 1-31.
UCHIZONO, K. 1967. Inhibitory synapses on the stretch receptor neurons of crayfish. Nature 214: 833-
844.
WALDEYER, WILHELM. 1891. Uber einige neurere Forschungen im Gebiete der Anatomic des Central-
nervensystems. Deutsche Med. Wochenschr. 44: 1-64.
WELLS, MARTIN J., AND JEAN WELLS. 1956. Tactile discrimination and the behaviour of blind Octopus.
Pubbl. Sta:. Zool. Napoli 28: 94-126.
WELLS, MARTIN J. 1959. A touch learning centre in Octopus. J. Exp. Biol. 36: 590-612.
WILKINS, MAURICE H. F. 1983. Address given on the occasion of the celebration of the 100th birthday
of Reinhard Dohrn, March 13, 1980 in the Villa Pignatelli, Naples. Pp. 5-10 in Reinhard
Dohrn, 1880-1962, Christiane Groeben, ed., Springer Verlag, Berlin, Heidelberg, New York.
WINTERSTEIN, HANS. 1911-1925. Handbuch der Vergleichenden Physiologic. 8 Vols. Gustav Fischer
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YOUNG, JOHN Z. 1934. The structure of nerve fibres in Sepia. J. Physiol. 83: 27P-28P.
YOUNG, JOHN Z. 1 936. The giant nerve fibre and epistellar body of cephalopods. Q. J. Microsc. Sci. 78:
367-386.
YOUNG, JOHN Z. 1964. A Model of the Brain. Clarendon Press, Oxford.
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Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 153-158. (June, 1985)
CEPHALOPODS AND NEUROSCIENCE
J. Z. YOUNG
The Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine, 183 Euston Road, London NW1 2BP, Great Britain
INTRODUCTION
Study of cephalopods at marine laboratories has provided material for some of
the outstanding discoveries of neuroscience in this century. The giant nerve fibers
are the most conspicuous example, but studies of photoreceptors and the memory
mechanisms of the brain have been very fruitful, as has work on chromatophores
and many other topics. It would be impossible to summarize all this work but it
may be interesting to show the sequence in which some of it has developed at
Naples, Plymouth, and Woods Hole, in much of which I have been concerned.
EYES
Perhaps the earliest contribution of cephalopods to fundamental neural processes
was the discovery of the electroretinogram by Frohlich at Naples in 1914. The
curious electrical phenomena in the rhabdomes are still only partly understood and
have been the subject of many later investigations. Outstanding has been the
demonstration by Hagins and McGaughty (see Messenger, 1981) that the opening
of channels to produce generator potentials takes place locally, near the site of
photon absorbtion in a rhabdome. Speaking of the retinal pigments will remind us
of the use made by Hubbard and Wald at Woods Hole of cephalopod eyes to
provide the rhadopsin for their fundamental research. Indeed the history of the use
of these eyes for neuroscience merits a symposium of its own. Cephalopods appear
to have no color vision, in spite of their own colorful displays (Messenger, 1981).
But the capacity to detect the plane of reflected polarized light, first suggested by
the geometry of the rhabdomes (Young, 1960; Saibil, 1982) and proved experimentally
at Naples by Moody and Parris (1961) and by electrical recordings, may provide a
sort of substitute for color vision (Saidel et al., 1983).
STATOCYSTS
The statocyst is an organ, one of whose major functions is stabilization of the
visual image. It has been investigated at Naples by Young (1960) and Wells (1960).
Thorough studies have been made by Budelmann at Regensburg using large numbers
of octopuses and cuttlefishes carried alive from Naples. He and I have analyzed the
oculomotor control system (Budelmann and Young, 1985). Recently he has discov-
ered that an octopus monitors its fast and slow movements separately by a unique
system of large and small cupulae (Budelmann and Williamson, 1985).
Another recent development has been the discovery that the peduncle lobe and
basal lobes of the brain contain systems of small cells with parallel fibers. These
resemble the vertebrate cerebellum and like that organ are involved in the optomotor
reflexes.
Measurement of the statocysts of many species collected from Plymouth, Naples,
Woods Hole, Miami, and Hawaii have shown a system similar to the semicircular
canals of vertebrates (Stephens and Young, 1975; Maddock and Young, 1984). The
153
154 J. Z. YOUNG
canals are formed by a series of knobs, the anticristse. They are best developed in
the rapidly moving loliginids and ommastrephids. In the slowly moving neutrally
buoyant forms, the statocyst is large and empty.
EXTRAOCULAR PHOTORECEPTORS
What may be called the modern epoque of cephalopod research at Naples was
begun by Enrico Sereni who made many experiments on the chromatophores and
salivary secretion, summarized in a long article in 1930. At the time of his early
death he and I were collaborating in a study of regeneration of the stellar nerves,
which was completed after his death (Sereni and Young, 1932). In the course of
this study I was attracted to a small orange spot at the hind end of the stellate
ganglion of Eledone. I cut sections of it, with no hypothesis other than curiosity. It
proved to be a hollow vesicle into which passed a number of projections, apparently
of nerve cells. After discussion with Sereni it was named the epistellar body (Young,
1929). I was interested at the time in the vertebrate adrenals and made the hypothesis
that these projections into the epistellar cavity were secretory. Ernst Scharrer eagerly
seized upon this as one of the earliest examples of neurosecretion. But he and I
were sadly mistaken. Forty years later Howard Bern, himself an endocrinologist,
thought it time to study this organ properly. The E.M. quickly showed that the
processes inside the epistellar body are rhabdomes (Nishioka et al., 1966). It is not
a gland at all but a photoreceptor, though without any lens or other dioptric
apparatus. Alex Mauro working at Naples and Ischia confirmed that it produces its
own minielectroretinogram (Mauro and Baumann, 1968). What can this photore-
ceptor be doing inside the mantle? The epistellar body is especially large in deep-
sea octopods, which are transparent. One hypothesis is that it serves to detect the
presence of a mass of luminous material in the mantle, which would attract a
predator. The oesophagus is deeply pigmented, presumably for the same reason.
However Houck (1982), working at Hawaii, has recently shown that in octopuses
with the optic nerves cut diurnal rhythms can still be entrained by light, perhaps
detected by the epistellar bodies.
The extra-ocular photoreceptors in decapods are in the head, not on the stellate
ganglion (Thore, 1939; Boycott and Young, 1956). They have been thoroughly
studied by R. E. Young (1978) at Hawaii in many species of squid. In some
mesopelagic forms such as Abraliopsis they serve to monitor the downward
illumination emitted by photophores for countershading. For this light to be effective
in making the squid invisible from below it must match the downwelling light. This
match is ensured by the photosensitive vesicles which are in two sets, one looking
up to the surface and the other towards the animal's own luminous organs (Young
and Roper, 1976). The system even ensures an appropriate match to the wave
length, if necessary, in moonlight!
The extra-ocular photoreceptors are even larger in the bathypelagic squids, such
as the cranchiids, many of which proceed to depths beyond the range of daylight,
especially for reproduction. Here the photoreceptors must have another function. I
suggest that they monitor the depth at which to spawn. They provide huge irregular
masses of photosensitive material and their nerves connect with the peduncle lobe
of the brain, which is probably concerned with movement in the vertical plane. It
may be that the squids continue to proceed deeper and deeper until no photons are
captured even by these large masses of pigment. When the light goes out it is dark
enough to breed! Conversely the photoreceptors prevent rising into the dangerous
lighted zone.
CEPHALOPODS AND NEUROSCIENCE 155
GIANT FIBERS
These discoveries are all exciting but even greater developments have flowed
from my original curiosity about the epistellar body. Having found it in octopods I
naturally also made sections of the stellate ganglion of decapods. No epistellar body
was there but instead I found the giant nerve fibers. I am often asked at what date
this discovery was made but can give no clear answer. Sections of the ganglia of
Loligo were made at Naples in 1929 but at first I thought these large spaces were
veins. The axoplasm does indeed look quite like blood in some sections. Then I
followed them towards the hind end of the ganglion where, as we now know, they
originate by the fusion of the axons of many cells. This seemed to me, as a faithful
Oxford follower of Sherrington, to be so unlikely that it took some years to persuade
myself of it. However in the collection there is a slide, labeled in my handwriting
"1 • 5 • 30," which is a thick section clearly showing the axons dividing and passing
to many cells of the giant fiber lobe. So I must have "known" their anatomy at
that date, but was not sure enough to publish.
During the early 1930s I worked at Plymouth, mostly with Sepia, where the
giant fibers are smaller and there is no giant fiber lobe. The first publication was
therefore a note in the Journal of Physiology in 1934 claiming that the axoplasm is
fluid, which we now know to be an error. Then in 1936 there was a fuller account
suggesting that the epistellar body had been derived from the giant fiber lobe of an
ancestor, which is probably another error.
However by now I was fully convinced that they were nerve fibers, and in 1936
was able to prove this by simple experiments at Woods Hole (Young, 1938). Several
others then joined me: Bronk, Gerard, and Hartline all tried to show action
potentials but the primitive oscilloscopes of those days worked poorly and my
distinguished colleagues could not show reliable action potentials by electrical
stimulation. One day Keffer Hartline and I hooked a fiber to an amplifier and
speaker and put a crystal of oxalate on the end; out came a wonderful buzz — the
first giant fiber impulses.
K. C. Cole and Curtis were soon studying the electrical properties of the
membrane and Frank Schmitt and Richard Bear showed me how to study
biophysical structure properly (Bear et al., 1939). Material collected that summer at
Woods Hole provided the basis for a full study of the giant fiber system of Loligo
(Young, 1939). It was only at this time that I discovered that the first order giant
cells in the brain had been illustrated by Williams (1909). His excellent monograph
was published in Holland and so far as I can discover the giant fiber system was
never mentioned throughout the succeeding years. Williams followed the large fibers
into the stellate ganglion and stellar nerves but he seems to have supposed that they
ran through the ganglion without synapse. He gave no figure of them.
The next phase of work on the giant fibers was mainly at Plymouth. Pumphrey
and I showed (1938) that the conduction velocity follows the square root of the
diameter. Rapid conduction by giant fibers is an expensive luxury for a species. In
these experiments we were helped by Alan Hodgkin, then a student at Cambridge;
this was the first introduction of the Cambridge team to the squid fibers.
The axons provided the material for the first direct measurements of the internal
potassium concentration of protoplasm, made independently by Bear et al. (1939)
and Webb and Young (1940).
The full development of the potentialities of the giant fibers occurred after the
war and I shall not try to follow the details. Outstanding achievements were the
placing of an internal electrode and the emptying and refilling of the axon by
156 J. Z. YOUNG
Hodgkin and Huxley. These investigations provided the data that enabled them to
deduce the equations of the ionic exchanges that are involved (Hodgkin and Huxley,
1952).
The special usefulness of the fibers is that they allow monitoring by electrodes
on both sides of the membrane. Numerous workers have used this property for
studies of membrane transport at Woods Hole, Plymouth, and Naples, continuing
to the present day at Plymouth with the work of Keynes and Baker and Haydon,
to mention only three out of many. Miledi and Katz and other groups have been
able to study the two sides of the synapse at Naples. The masses of axoplasm and
sheets of membrane have provided opportunities for the work of thousands of
physiologists, biochemists, and biophysicists and will continue to do so in the future.
As new problems and techniques appear these fibers will provide the material of
choice for testing them. It is curious to think how different neuroscience would
have been had I not made sections of a yellow spot — out of simple curiosity. It is
easy to say that the fibers would have been discovered by someone else soon. But
would they in the present climate? Who would write a grant application to study
the possible structure of an unknown organ? It is an example of the need to allow
people to pursue whatever curious subject may interest them.
MEMORY
The sections of the brains of squids and cuttlefishes that were made to study
the giant fibers showed me many other wonderful things. The supraoesophageal
lobes include a dozen distinct lobules, each with a different pattern of cells and
neuropil. Surely these would provide a good opportunity to study higher nervous
activities, such as memory. I felt that this was an opening even more important
than was offered by the nerve fibers. Already in the 1930s there was a moderately
good idea of how nerve impulses are conducted. Hodgkin and Huxley were able to
carry this much further and the giant synapse provided great opportunities. But the
really mysterious problems of neuroscience were hidden there in the neuropils of
the higher centers. Biophysics was not ready to attack them, and still cannot do so
even in 1984.
However it seemed to me that a start should be made, and Sanders and I were
able to show at Plymouth that the learning power of Sepia is indeed dependent on
the vertical lobe (1940). After a long interval in the war, while studying nerve
regeneration in mammals and men, I returned to the problem of memory at Naples.
Octopus provides even better opportunities than Sepia and proved to be a splendid
learner. The supply at Naples seems to be inexhaustable. The Posillipo fishermen
have been able to bring in 20 or more octopuses a day in excellent condition and
the Stazione has generously provided space for special tanks to be built with funds
from the British Science Research Council. These facilities are still available.
With the cooperation of Boycott, Wells, Sutherland, and many others, the two
memory systems of the octopus, visual and tactile, have been thoroughly explored
(see Wells, 1966; Young, 1983). Lesions have shown that various lobes are involved
in learning, each in a different way. The visual and tactile memory systems each
includes four lobes with distinctive structure and function. Unfortunately for some
reason it is difficult to record the electrical activities of octopus neurons. The
afferent fibers proceeding from the retina and statocyst have been thoroughly
investigated, but little is known about activities within the brain. There have been
many investigations of the transmitters involved since the classical demonstration
by Bacq (1937) of the huge amounts of acetylcholine in the optic lobes. Among
CEPHALOPODS AND NEUROSCIENCE 157
many others Juorio (1971), Juorio and Barlow (1976), and Tansey (1979) have
shown the distribution of amines in the brain, mostly using material obtained at
Naples.
Studies of cephalopods have not revealed all the secrets of the mechanism of
learning but they have shown much, and may show more. It may be claimed that
we already know from work with large-celled gastropods, such as that of Kandel,
that memory involves changes in synaptic conduction. This is a great advance but
does not tell us how representations stored in the brain enable an animal or man
to recognize a rectangle. There are properties of aggregates of neurons and we still
require brains such as those of octopuses that are suitable for studies of them. It
will need special methods that cannot yet be seen, and I doubt whether multiple
electrodes will serve. Some methods must be devised that can show how numerous
neurons interact. The various neuropils of an octopus may provide the material
that is needed, just as the giant fibers of the squid will allow testing of new methods
for the study of membranes.
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Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 159-167. (June, 1985)
NICKED BY OCCAM'S RAZOR: UNITARIANISM IN THE
INVESTIGATION OF SYNAPTIC TRANSMISSION
M. V. L. BENNETT
Division of Cellular Neurobiology, Department of Neuroscience, Albert Einstein College of Medicine,
Bronx, New York 10461, and Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, Massachusetts 02543
INTRODUCTION
Before the modes of synaptic transmission were well enough understood to
decide the matter, chemical and electrical mediation were widely accepted as the
two possibilities. Neurophysiologists in general thought that transmission was
electrical, because axonal conduction was electrical and they saw no need for an
additional mechanism. Furthermore chemical transmission seemed too slow. On
the other side, pharmacologists favored chemical transmission, because they worked
with drugs and had a great deal of evidence for chemical sensitivity (and some for
chemical transmission) at peripheral sites including viscera and skeletal muscle.
The motif of this article comes from a story Harry Grundfest used to tell. In his
1947 paper in Annual Review of Physiology he inclined toward the view that
interneuronal transmission is electrically mediated, as is axonal conduction, and in
his letter of submission with the manuscript, he said that in spite of evidence for
chemical transmission he remained an enlightened Unitarian. By the time of his
1957 review he, and others, were convinced that synaptic transmission was chemically
mediated. He recalled the comment written on the end of the manuscript by an
editor who remembered the earlier letter: "Enlightened unitarianism grows dim."
Although chemical transmission was established and unity of synaptic transmission
and axonal conduction defeated, unitarianism lived and still does. Occam's razor,
the mode of inference in which the simplest explanation is favored, remains in use.
I shall give several illustrations from the controversy over synaptic transmission of
Occam's razor cutting both ways, instances where the simplest explanation was
incorrect or incomplete, and the investigator was misled by his preference for a
Unitarian view. Biological reality does have many unifying principles, but life is
complicated and also historical. Nervous systems in their evolution have come to
use many different mechanisms.
Both electrical and chemical transmission were proposed for the neuromuscular
junction in the 1800s (cf.. Brazier, 1959). In 1904 Elliot observed the similarity
between the actions of sympathetic nerves and adrenalin. Recognizing the homology
between adrenal glands and sympathetic ganglia, he suggested that the nerves acted
by releasing adrenalin. This proposal was made in a proceedings note in the Journal
of Physiology, but for reasons unknown to me he failed to mention the idea again
in the detailed publication of the data appearing the following year (Elliot, 1905).
Loewi is commonly given credit for establishing chemical transmission with his
1921 experiment on the Vagusstoff. Indeed, of the two essential criteria for
identifying a transmitter, evoked release of the putative transmitter and identity of
action of the transmitter and the neurally released material, Loewi's experiment was
the first to demonstrate release. In his 1933 Harvey Lecture Loewi wrote "In the
year 1921 I was able to prove without doubt the correctness of the fundamental
idea" that sympathetic and parasympathetic nerves liberate a chemical substance
that produces the postsynaptic action. But he did not overgeneralize. He raised the
159
160 M. V. L. BENNETT
possibility of chemical transmission in the central nervous system, seeing that it
would provide a nice mechanism for temporal summation, but noted (p. 228) "the
experimental proof may be rather difficult to obtain/" He continues (p. 232)
A priori one can imagine that in cases where the effect of stimulation takes
place in an almost immeasurable space of time and ceases practically instantly
after the stimulus is over, as for instance in the case of nervous stimulation of
striated muscle, there is hardly enough time for a substance to be formed and
nearly simultaneously rendered ineffective. But the time factor is not a decisive
proof for or against a humoral mechanism in the case of spinal nerves. Personally
I do not believe in a humoral mechanism existing in the case of striated muscle.
Although Loewi's work was important in establishing the possibility of chemical
transmission, comparable experiments were done for electrical transmission much
earlier by Matteuci, who showed that the electricity produced by a contracting
muscle would stimulate a nerve (see Brazier, 1959). A nerve generates electricity,
but one can question whether it is in the right amount, at the right time and in the
right place to account for synaptic transmission. The same question applies to
Loewi's experiments. Occam's razor suggested that the neurally released transmitter
with the same action as caused by nerve stimulation was indeed released appropriately
in terms of amount, time, and place, but a definitive demonstration of all these
properties has still not been made, at least at any synapse where transmission is
rapid. Other electrophysiological criteria turned out to provide the evidence that
ultimately convinced the doubting electrophysiologists (such as Grundfest). And in
my view it was Occam's razor, correctly used, that convinced the pharmacologists
before all the data were in.*
J. C. ECCLES AND ENLIGHTENMENT
Eccles figured prominently in what was often termed the sparks and soup
controversy, and his history of the subject is insightful as well as first hand (Eccles,
1982). He was convinced of chemical transmission in respect to sympathetic
innervation prior to the second world war. By 1948 he also found Kuffler's
experiments in 1942 and those of himself and collaborators to be a valid demon-
stration of chemical transmission at the (frog) neuromuscular junction. The prolon-
gation of the PSP by eserine without change in the brief nerve response was indeed
highly suggestive. But in the absence of really knowing the anatomy and the
transmembrane potentials, one can still regard the case as somewhat open. Indeed
in a 1948 review of most of these experiments Kuffler writes a rather ambiguously
worded passage indicating uncertainty, although it could be construed as implying
chemical. He really did mean uncertainty for his note added in proof cites an Eccles
review (1948) stating that chemical transmission was definitely established. It is
interesting that Kuffler's work is frequently referred to in that Eccles review.
Although the section discussing neuromuscular transmission is unclear as to mode,
a direct statement is found on p. 112 "the electrical theory of transmission provides
a satisfactory answer for the spinal cord, which contrasts with the neuromuscular
junction where transmission appears to be exclusively cholinergic." Also on p. 107
"In every respect the observations of Bullock on the squid giant synapse conform
* Ernst Florey in the discussion of the oral presentation of this paper told of a visit to Loewi in New
York after World War II. Loewi reported to Florey that he had recently had an unpleasant experience
while attending a Rubinstein concert. He was so distracted by the evident impossibility of such rapid and
complex motor acts being mediated chemically that he could not enjoy the music.
OCCAM'S RAZOR 161
with the predictions of the electrical theory," observations that electrophysiologically
were very similar to those at the neuromuscular junction. Chemical transmission in
muscle was accepted, but electrical transmission between neurons was being
conserved.
In respect to Eccles and Kuffler on the neuromuscular junction, I recall Paul
Cranefield referring to a paper where the coauthors disagreed strongly about the
significance of their findings. In writing the discussion they finally compromised on
the wording "one of the authors is forced to conclude that . . ." The investigation
of synaptic transmission produced many inferences about whose compelling nature
there were strong differences of opinion. Intracellular recording clarified the situation
greatly.
Eccles and co-workers in their landmark paper (Brock et ai, 1952) (justifiably)
stated that their data established chemical transmission for neuronal inhibition. The
demonstration did not involve identification of the transmitter or measurement of
its action and release, but rather intracellular recording of activity that could not
(reasonably) be mediated electrically. They were suitably careful about excitatory
transmission and only said that it was probably chemically mediated. Fatt and Katz
(1951) had already applied intercellular recording to the neuromuscular junction,
and characterized chemically mediated excitation to an extent that had not been
possible previously. They were also studying transmission in a crustacean muscle
where inhibition resulted from a conductance increase that could not be electrically
transmitted from the presynaptic fiber (Fatt and Katz, 1953). Of course this was at
a crustacean neuromuscular junction not known to be a model for mammalian
CNS. Fatt subsequently joined Eccles for a collaboration in which the electrophys-
iological insights of Fatt and Katz were applied to both excitatory and inhibitory
synapses in the cat spinal cord. Eccles, in '57, wrote: "It can now be taken as
established that transmission across synapses occurs not by the spread of electrical
currents, but by the specific chemical substances which impulses cause to be
liberated from the presynaptic membranes1" (p. 67).
Eccles conversion was an impressive mental feat in that he was able to let go
rapidly of an idea he had strongly fought for. To be sure, the influence of Karl
Popper had led him to push the idea of electrical transmission perhaps harder than
justified until it was finally falsified (for cat motoneurons). The pendulum swung in
terms of the body scientific as well, and my impression is that at this time almost
everyone believed that synaptic transmission was chemically mediated. However,
Furshpan and Potter (1959) were studying the crayfish giant motor synapse. Wiersma
had previously shown that it transmitted impulses in only one direction and from
sensitivity to block by pharmacological agents he inferred transmission to be
chemically mediated. It was an attractive synapse because both pre- and postsynaptic
axons were large enough that it appeared (and was) possible to penetrate both
elements close to the synapse. Furshpan and Potter found that here transmission
was, after all, electrical, and unidirectional transmission of impulses was due to
rectification by the membranes in the synaptic region which were known to be
closely apposed. Eccles easily accepted these new findings and in his 1961 review
had a section on electrical transmission. He also proposed that the junctions between
segments of septate axons found widely in annelids and arthropods "should not be
considered synapses"' because they conduct in both directions, but if they were
considered synapses "they would be examples of "the simplest type"" of electrical
synapse" (p. 363).
Only later did he come to accept the septal junctions as synapses which are, by
his definition, close appositions "specialized for the transmission of excitation or
162 M. V. L. BENNETT
inhibition" (Eccles, 1964 p. VI). [For the record, Watanabe (1958) independently
discovered electrical coupling between cardiac ganglion cells in an arthropod,
although in the absence of morphological data (still absent in many instances in
arthropods including this one) he thought the cells were syncytial.] Perhaps because
electric transmission was initially found in invertebrates Eccles (1961, p. 366) was
led to write
It seems probable that many examples of electrical [sic] transmitting synapse
may be discovered when invertebrate nervous systems are intensively investigated.
With the vertebrate nervous system the invariable presence of a considerable
synaptic delay would exclude electrical transmission as significantly contributing
to any of the synaptic transmissions that have been investigated by intracellular
recording.
For the record, there are many instances in mammals and lower forms where
synaptic delays at chemical and electrical synapses are difficult to distinguish (cf.,
Bennett, 1977).
At a meeting on the thalamus in 1965, I presented a paper on how electrical
synapses synchronized neural firing in fishes and suggested these systems as a
possible model of mammalian CNS synchronization (Bennett, 1966). Afterwards
Eccles was heard to say in effect that it was all very well for fishes but Bennett
would never find electrical transmission in mammals (D. P. Purpura, pers. comm.).
I admit that my presence at the meeting was more a result of my being in the
institution of the organizers than of their conviction that the fishes' physiology was
pertinent to the mammalian thalamus.
Others did go on to find electrical transmission in the mammal (reviewed in
Bennett, 1977, and Korn and Faber, 1979, and new examples continue to be
discovered). Eccles still writes somewhat perjoratively in 1982 that electrical synapses
"are relatively rare in the mammalian brain and it has yet to be shown that they
are functionally important in the brain1' (p. 337). For the mammalian brain he
prefers there to be only a single important mode of transmission. I have often
argued that there are many synapses where it is difficult to see a relative advantage
of excitatory chemical over electrical transmission (e.g., Bennett, 1977), but in this
area of course I am not disinterested and my arguments can be seen as serving to
increase the importance of my own research. Nevertheless, in the absence of
experimental data it is difficult to conclude that a distinct group of synapses are
unimportant in the operation of the central nervous system.
H. GRUNDFEST AND NEO-UNITARIANISM
Let us now return to the 195CTs and Harry Grundfest's 1957 review. Grundfest
proposed that subsynaptic membrane was electrically inexcitable and that this
property was essential in its operation, and thus all synaptic transmission was
chemical. (I came to work in Harry's lab at this time, shortly after finishing graduate
school.) The originality of the proposal of electrical inexcitability is arguable and
Fatt and Katz had previously stated that ACh action at the neuromuscular junction
is unlike that of an electric field which causes generation of an action potential.
Eccles (1957, p. 52) wrote independently that by "analogy with the subsynaptic
membrane of the neuromuscular junction [and other examples] . . . it is possible
that the subsynaptic areas [of motoneurons] are incapable of responding by
impulses." Grundfest did bring a large amount of data together and in my view his
major contribution in this regard was in emphasizing the importance of a general
physiology that included all synapses and not just the favored few.
OCCAM'S RAZOR 163
Given that Grundfest had adopted electrical inexcitability and chemical trans-
mission as universals, a grand generalization, he was presented with a problem
when electrical transmission was definitively established. He (with Kao) wrote in
1957 "The term synapse assumes more meaning than merely the physical apposition
of two adjacent excitable cells. Synaptic transmissional excitation must therefore be
initiated by a process of specialized, secretory activity at the presynaptic terminals""
(p. 569).
It was arguable that a necessary property of a synapse is unidirectional action
(as Eccles did briefly) and Kao and Grundfest saw the septa not as synapses, but as
"ephapses without synaptic function, demarcating ontogenetic cellular boundaries.'"
The term ephapse was coined by Arvanitaki (1942) to denote artificial junctions
made by placing two axons together; she proposed these junctions as a model for
(real) synapses. The rectifying electrotonic synapse described by Furshpan and Potter
was not so easily excluded because it exhibited polarized or unidirectional conduction.
Kao and Grundfest wrote "It remains to be seen whether this 'electrically excitable
synapse" is a condition found at other junctions or whether it represents an
abandoned evolutionary variant" (p. 570). (One sees more vertebrate chauvinism
here. Arthropods represent the peak of another branch of evolution.)
Grundfest"s later solution to the problem of electrical synapses was to change
the name. In his 1959 chapter, all electrical synapses have become ephapses.
Grundfest recognized that the crayfish "junction meets the criteria of anatomical
discontinuity and transmissional polarization'" (p. 192), (now we know there is
cytoplasmic continuity for small molecules) but discusses the junction's profound
differences from chemically transmitting synapses with electrically inexcitable sub-
synaptic membrane.
He also recognized that special geometric properties alone can lead to polarized
transmission (at electrical synapses or ephapses, p. 190), but now to him "the crucial
distinction is whether current flow in a presynaptic terminal can excite" the
postsynaptic element. Since at chemical synapses the presynaptic current is "far too
small to excite the postsynaptic cell," the electrical synapses must be something
else; he chose ephapses. There is a clearly illogical step here. All synapses are
unidirectional; chemical synapses are unidirectional and not electrical. Thus all
synapses are chemical and not electrical (this is the mistake), and if one finds a
junction that is unidirectional and electrical, it can't be a synapse. I do not believe
that this was the way in which Grundfest arrived at the description of electrically
transmitting junctions between neurons as ephapses. Rather the constellation of
properties which he viewed as integral to synaptic transmission appeared to derive
from chemical mediation. If some synapses were electrical, the thesis would have
required major revision, and it was simpler to call electrical synapses by a dif-
ferent name.
I leave the question of electrical inexcitability with a few further comments.
Many of the properties of chemical transmission that Grundfest cites can arise in
other ways, and electrical synapses can exhibit virtually all of them (except PSP
reversal). I never found it compelling that subsynaptic membrane should be
inexcitable, because it always seemed possible that a transmitter could act on an
electrically excitable channel. K ions released by activity depolarize adjacent cells
by changing the driving force for both excitable and inexcitable channels, and there
are many examples of K release by neurons affecting other neurons. The K effects
might be considered ephaptic rather than synaptic (although chemically mediated),
but the action can still be excitatory on electrically excitable membrane. Recently
many modulatory synapses have been described where transmitters act to alter an
164 M. V. L. BENNETT
electrically excitable conductance (Tsien and Siegelbaum, 1983). To be sure most
of these actions are probably mediated by a second messenger that is intracellular,
and the subsynaptic membrane where the transmitter acts is not directly involved
in impulse generation.
In current terms we know many channel macromolecules that are affected by
transmitters, other chemical agents and electric fields (cf. Bennett et a/., 1984). It is
reasonable that for an intramembrane protein undergoing a conformational change
there would be a dipole moment change that would confer some degree of
electrical sensitivity. This sensitivity might be greater as in the usual channels
involved in impulse generation or lesser as in most transmitter evoked changes at
subsynaptic membranes of chemical synapses. But the general prediction is that any
chemically evoked change will also exhibit some degree of electrical sensitivity.
Furthermore, channels primarily sensitive to potential may also be sensitive to
regulatory molecules, pharmacological agents, and toxins. I do subscribe to Grundfest's
provocative view that electrical inexcitability as determined electrophysiologically
provided the only "direct" evidence for chemical transmission. Many synapses are
accepted as chemical on electrophysiological grounds with no knowledge of the
transmitter (let alone evoked release and identity of action, cf., Brock et a/., 1952).
However, one man's direct evidence is another man's tortured reasoning, and
chemical transmission would not be nearly so convincingly demonstrated by
electrical inexcitability if there were not all those data on transmitter action and
transmitter release.
My exposition of where Grundfest went slightly astray should be evaluated in
light of my own agenda. While my recollection is that I did not accept Grundfest's
constellation of properties at the time, the real difficulty came later when my
collaborators and I began to find electrical synapses in modest profusion. It was not
in my self interest to be working on a lower class of interneuronal junction, with a
connotation of artificiality, regardless of whether they could exhibit most of
Grundfest's properties. There was no doubt another factor that I have heard called
Feldberg's dictum, that is that a scientist would rather use another scientist's
toothbrush than his [or her] terminology.
There were several important precursors to electrical transmission as demonstrated
by Furshpan and Potter. As noted above, Kao and Grundfest (1959) saw the septa
as providing little hindrance to local circuit, electrical propagation although the
septa were described as not synaptic. Bullock in 1945 wrote (p. 70):
The high speed of conduction and its unpolarized character are significant in
view of the apparently synaptic nature of the system as demonstrated histologically.
These properties are compatible with the [supposition] that the synapse is not
inherently polarized nor delaying but is only so as a result of the particular
anatomical relations prevalent in vertebrates and that these properties should not
be a part of the definition of the synapse.
The suggestion that septal synapses are like all other synapses is again overinclusive,
but the description accurately applies to many electrical synapses in vertebrates as
well as invertebrates.
Not everyone took a Unitarian view during these developments. Fatt wrote
in 1954:
it is probable that electrical transmission occurs at certain other junctions. One
possible arrangement, which may be envisioned to give a high degree of electrical
interaction is for two fibers [of about the same dimensions] to be actually
touching and for the membrane in contact to have a low electric resistance
OCCAM'S RAZOR 165
compared with that in neighboring parts of the fiber. The synapse would then
serve to direct current between the interior of the two fibers, while active
membrane changes would occur in the neighboring regions [p. 204].
Here is an accurate description of transmission at many electrical synapses; many
more if one ignores the qualification as to similarity of size of the fibers. As an
aside there is an implication of absence of excitability in the connecting membrane.
He went on:
A case in which there can be little doubt that electrical transmission operates is
in the nervous system of the crayfish, where successive giant nerve cells, each
extending along one segment, . . . form the lateral giant nerve fibers. Transmission
takes place in either direction and such chains of nerve cells [form] synapses
where transmission occurs electrically [p. 705].
Thus, the stage was thoroughly set for electrical transmission. I find it admirable
that in the laboratory that many consider the primary source of chemical transmission,
there was recognition that in some cases transmission was very probably electrically
mediated. Fatt thought, for reasonable cause, that transmission at the motor giant
synapse of crayfish was chemical, but the basic understanding that led to Furshpan's
and Potter's important findings were there.
NACHMANSOHN AND SINGLE-MINDED UNITARIANISM
David Nachmansohn will be used to provide a brief coda to the longer
discussions above. He held with an amazing perseverence to a unified theory of
chemical mediation of action potentials, all action potentials everywhere, but
believed that synaptic transmission was electrical. His thinking came to be a
somewhat distorted mirror image of the majority view.
The cholinergic system was an enduring concern of Nachmansohn, and he made
many truly major contributions in respect to the properties of acetylcholine esterase
and the discovery of choline acetylase (or choline acetyltransferase) and coenzyme
A. Early on he and his collaborators, in studying the electric eel, found that the
concentration of AChE per unit length of electric organ was quite linearly related
to the voltage developed per unit length. The current hypothesis to explain this
finding would be that voltage is proportional to the number of cells in series, and
the number of cells per unit length is greater in anterior regions. The AChE is
largely found on the innervated face of cells, so the amount of AChE is proportional
to the number of cells, hence voltage and AChE are related. At the time of
Nachmansohn's finding the series summation in electric organs of essentially
ordinary membrane potentials had not been established and the inference of ACh's
direct involvement in potential generation was a tenable hypothesis. The Nachman-
sohn group proceeded to find a great deal more data of a pharmacological kind that
supported the involvement of the cholinergeric system. Also, negative evidence such
as the failure of polar cholinergic agents to act on ordinary axons was accounted
for by postulation of permeability barriers that protected the actual sites of impulse
generation. During these developments there were questions raised by others about
specificity or reproducibility of some of the results in agreement with the theory.
Moreover as data accumulated it became necessary to postulate permeability barriers
on the inside as well as outside of the active membrane. The theory, although
increasingly ornate, was now extremely difficult to disprove, certainly by Nachman-
sohn's standards. In the early seventies he elaborated a highly specific version of
how ACh was involved in the permeability changes underlying action potential
generation. (He did not deny the permeability changes of ion fluxes.)
166 M. V. L. BENNETT
His view of synaptic transmission was surprising given that he required a
chemical step in axonal conduction. In emphasizing the biochemical unity of life,
"Nature has shown little imagination in modifying chemical mechanisms associated
with given functions" (Nachmansohn and Neumann, 1975), he wanted transmission
to be electrical. In 1961 he wrote
The action of acetylcholine with a specific receptor protein is essential for the
conductance changes observed [in the axon]. The agent that propagates impulses
in the axon and across the synapse is the electric current (ion movements) but
the ion movements require the trigger action of acetylcholine [p. 241 of
Nachmansohn and Neumann, 1975].
and
Electric fields and manifestations must be greatly influenced by the complexity
of this organization [of the synapse revealed by electron microscopy]. But there
is not a single fact to support the view that the role of acetylcholine system
present in both pre- and postsynaptic membranes differs fundamentally in axonal
conduction and synaptic transmission. All data available are consistent with the
unified concept [p. 256].
Even in 1975 his views about the synapses were essentially unchanged. "Special
structural arrangements may make small eddy currents at junctions quite efficient
in initiating the chemical reactions responsible for the changes in the postsynaptic
membrane for either hyper- or depolarization" (p. 197).
I have never understood why Nachmansohn was so resistant to the idea of
chemical transmission, which would have been permitted by very minor modifications
of his view of the role of acetylcholine. Perhaps some of the evidence for its role in
axonal conduction would have been undermined if interpreted as associated with
chemical transmission. Alternately his tenacity in support of electrical transmission
may have been simply another facet of the personality trait that led him to hold an
unpopular and finally indefensible theory of axonal conduction.
Many other scientists have held on to their theories for longer than they were
tenable. In spite of Occam's razor a pet theory can often be nurtured by subsidiary
hypotheses far beyond the point where the proposer would have been likely to
formulate the theory ab initio. Simplicity is a useful guide in formulating theories,
but once a theory becomes a member of one's inner family, the drive towards
simplicity has a way of losing its strength.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Supported in part by NIH grants NS-07512 and HD-04248.
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Thalamus, D. P. Purpura and M. D. Jahr, eds. Columbia Univ. Press, New York.
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transmission. Pp. 357-416 in Cellular Biology of Neurons (Vol. 1. Sect. 1 Handbook of
Physiology. The Nervous System), E. R. Kandel, ed. Williams and Wilkins, Baltimore.
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BULLOCK, T. H. 1945. Functional organization of the giant fiber system of Lumbricus. J. Neurophysiol.
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Reference: Bid. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 168-171. (June, 1985)
MARINE BOTANY AND ECOLOGY AT STAZIONE ZOOLOGICA
CARMELO R. TOMAS
Marine Botany Laboratory, Stazione Zoologica, 80121 Naples, Italy
ABSTRACT
For 108 years marine botany research has been an important component of the
research conducted at the Stazione Zoologica of Naples. The first researchers at the
Naples Institute were German guests who proceeded with descriptive ecological and
taxonomic studies and provided a foundation for the later physiological, cytological,
life cycle, and biochemical studies conducted at the Stazione. During a major period
(47 yrs.) Prof. G. Funk contributed ecological work giving the botanical research at
Naples a continuity which extended into the late 5(Ts. From 1960 onwards, the
marine botany laboratory assumed a different direction and recently has returned
to a physiological-ecological orientation. The lasting impact of marine botany has
been the contribution of an ecological dimension from which other studies grew
and found support.
DISCUSSION
Studies of marine botany in the Gulf of Naples predate the founding of the
Stazione Zoologica by nearly fifty years. The studies of Delle Chiaje (1823) and
Costa (1838) describe species of the rich flora found in the waters of the kingdom
of Naples. This flora and the equally abundant and varied fauna were factors
influencing Anton Dohrn in establishing the Naples Institute. Within four years of
the opening of the Stazione Zoologica, marine botany research was begun in earnest.
For the past 108 years, research in this discipline has continued to contribute to the
overall scientific effort. Marine botany and ecology are natural synonyms for the
Stazione Zoologica, since from the beginning the ecological approach to the study
of marine algae predominated, resulting in quantification and evaluation of the
evolution of Neapolitan coastal waters. In addition, algal studies relating to cytology,
physiology, anatomy, and aspects of biochemistry were pursued. Both micro and
macro algae were studied although the major emphasis was placed on macroscopic
thallate forms. The activity of marine botany research was greatly influenced by the
perturbations imposed by the two world wars as well as the natural rhythms of the
Institution's growth.
The earliest visitors (1873-1900) were almost exclusively German researchers
encouraged by Anton Dohrn to visit and work at his station. Among these, J.
Reinke, P. Falkenberg, G. Berthold, R. Valiante, and C. Sauvageau were the first
to extensively study the benthic algae of the Gulf. Armed with the modern elements
of taxonomy and physiology, these early workers (Reinke, 1878a, b; Falkenberg,
1879, 1901; Berthold, 1882a, b; Valiante, 1883; Sauvageau, 1892) established vital
species lists as well as distribution in the Naples area. In addition, their observations
on gametes of brown algae, cellular composition including ions, chromoplasts,
vacuoles, and associated membranes further added to the general knowledge of
algae. The first decades of the 20th century had macroalgologists including A.
Vickers, F. Tobler, E. Leick, and G. Funk as further contributors to our understanding
of algal species distribution as related to ecological factors. Among these, the most
168
MARINE BOTANY AND ECOLOGY 169
prominent and one who had the greatest impact on marine botany in Naples was
G. Funk. Professor Funk's monographs (1927, 1955) with extensive descriptions of
algal associations, reproductive cycles in nature, and distribution remained a
benchmark for algal research in the Mediterranean. Funk's observations also served
as a basis for quantifying changes in natural populations in the Gulf of Naples
where increased urbanization and industrial development was strongly affecting
coastal waters. An important aspect of his research was the sustained effort over a
47-year period of research at the Stazione which established a strong ecological
perspective in the study of marine algae.
Microalgal studies concomitant with those mentioned above resulted in the
establishment of new species lists for diatoms, dinoflagellates, and other flagellates.
Castracane (1889), Shiitt (1891, 1892), Schroder (1901), Karsten (1925), and
Balsomo (1903) substantially added to the microalgal species discovered in the Gulf
of Naples. Subsequent works of Lindemann (1924, 1925), Zimmerman (1930),
Schussnig (1930), and Schwarz (1932) added further understanding of dinoflagellates
and microflagellates of this area.
An understandable decline in activity preceeded and followed the wars but the
decade prior to World War II marked a period of intense research with macro algae.
Physiological studies dealing with temperature (Biebl, 1939), growth substances
(Weij, 1933), osmotic relationships (Hofler, 1930, 1931, 1932), ion permeability
(Brooks-Moldenhaur, 1932; Magdefrau, 1933; Ullrich, 1933, 1934, 1936, 1939),
and pigment composition (Rodio, 1926, 1929, 1939) were actively pursued. Life
cycle studies, primarily with brown algae were reported by Carter (1927), Hoyt
(1928), Knight (1929), Pantanelli (1923), and Ubisch (1928, 1931), and observations
on sexual cycles and structures were published by Hartmann (1925, 1934, 1937),
Jollos (1926), Foyn (1934a, b), and Moewus (1938). During this period both
Hammerling (1934a, b) and Schulze (1939) pursued studies of Acetabularia species
present in the local waters. These studies were part of the pioneering work which
was pursued in their native Germany establishing Acetabularia as an important
physiological model and tool in the studies of cell biology.
The years following the second world war saw few or no botanists at the
Stazione. It was not until the early 50's that botanical studies resumed full activity
in research, progressing with ecological studies of algal distribution, algal cultivation,
and work dealing with various aspects of Acetabularia metabolism. In the late
1950s, a marked change occurred in the marine botany laboratory with the
permanent assignment of Dr. Kurt Beth, of the Max Planck Institute, as head of
the algal laboratory in Naples. As a cell physiologist. Dr. Beth was primarily
interested in Acetabularia research (Beth, 1958; Thimann and Beth, 1959), ephiphy-
tism (Beth and Merola, 1960), and reproductive cycles in Halimeda tuna (Beth,
1962). In 1963, Dr. Beth organized and hosted the First International Algal
Conference at Naples.
With less emphasis on ecology, the botany efforts during the decade between
1960 and 1970 left open pressing questions and concerns regarding the study of the
environment. As a result of this and other factors, the Benthic Ecology and Biological
Oceanography laboratories were formed and pursued topics no longer conducted in
marine botanical research. Ecological studies in the broad sense, including research
on the physical-chemical factors as well as plant and animal communities, are now
being conducted by the three laboratories.
Today marine botany has regained activity in both macro and micro forms
combining a physiological-ecological approach to the study of algae. Population
dynamics of micro algae, distribution and abundance of toxic and noxious forms,
170 C. R. TOM AS
and physiological requirements of open ocean species are but a few of the research
interests added to the macro algal distribution and abundance studies. An active
herbarium, consisting of 3000+ specimens dating from 1881 to the present continues
to serve as an important reference for taxonomic and systematics studies. Activities
involving international collaboration have resumed and expanded. Advanced-level
international courses are currently being organized.
A lasting impact of the marine botanical activities during a century of research
at the Stazione has been a continuum of ecologically oriented studies which served
as a backbone for other research activities. This, primarily attributed to the efforts
of Professor Funk, has served as a basis of what we find today as botany-ecology at
the Stazione Zoologica.
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ULLRICH, H. 1936. Einige Beobachtungen iiber Doppelbrechung am lebenden Protoplasten. an verschiedenen
Zellorganellen sowie der Zellwand. Planta 26: 311-318.
ULLRICH, H. 1939. Permeabilitat und Intrabilitat pflanzlicher Zellen und Plasmagrenzstruktur. Archiv.
E.\p. Zellforsch. 22: 496-500.
VALIANTE, R. 1883. Le Cystoseriae del Golfo di Napoli. Fauna und Flora von Golf Neapel. Manu-
script 7.
WEIJ, H. G. 1933. On the growth substance in marine Algae. Proc. K. Ned. Wet. Akad. 36: 759-760.
ZIMMERMAN, W. 1930. Neue und wenig bekannte Kleinalgen von Neapel. I-V. Zeitschr. Bot. 23: 419-
442.
Reference: Bio!. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 172-182. (June, 1985)
CARNEGIE INSTITUTION OF WASHINGTON AND MARINE BIOLOGY:
NAPLES, WOODS HOLE, AND TORTUGAS
JAMES D. EBERT
Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1530 P Street, N. W., Washington. DC 20005
INTRODUCTION
At 2:45 p.m. on 29 January 1902 the Board of Trustees of Carnegie Institution
of Washington met at the State Department in Washington, DC under the temporary
chairmanship of the honorable John Hay, with Charles D. Walcott serving as
temporary secretary. Andrew Carnegie, who was introduced by the chairman,
presented his deed, creating a trust for the benefit of the Carnegie Institution of
Washington, DC. After adoption of the by-laws officers were elected, including the
honorable Abram S. Hewitt as chairman, Dr. John S. Billings as vice-chairman,
Walcott as secretary, and as the Institution's first president. Dr. Daniel C. Gilman,
former president of the Johns Hopkins University.
The second meeting of the Board was held the following day at the New Willard
Hotel in Washington. At that meeting an Executive Committee was elected, which
was charged with "preparing a report upon the work which should be undertaken
by the Carnegie Institution in the near future, such report to be submitted to the
Board of Trustees at its next meeting — ." To that end the Executive Committee
appointed eighteen advisory committees, whose roles were defined in a letter from
President Gilman to each advisor on 1 1 March 1902. These fifty individuals were
"invited to act as one of these advisors until the Annual Meeting of the Trustees,
in November next." The charge to the committees was "to prepare, in the course
of the summer, a plan of procedure, and in the meantime to engage in preliminary
studies of the problems committed to them, by consultation with acknowledged
authorities at home and abroad."
Among the committees was the Committee on Zoology. Its chairman was Henry
F. Osborn, the other members being Alexander Agassiz, W. K. Brooks, C. Hart
Merriam, and E. B. Wilson.
The several Committees reported to the Trustees on 25 November 1902. Those
reports appear in Carnegie Institution of Washington Yearbook, Volume 1 .
The reports of several of the advisory committees are considered "classics" in
their respective fields, perhaps the most far-reaching being a report of the Advisory
Committee on Astronomy, which produced a veritable charter for work in astronomy
over several decades and resulted immediately in the establishment of Mount
Wilson Observatory. The report of the Committee on Zoology cannot be classified
among the great reports of the group, in part because only three of the five members
of the Committee took an active part in the deliberations. Agassiz withdrew from
the Committee before it completed its deliberations, and Merriam did not attend
the final critical meeting. Merriam was one of the first to argue that Carnegie
Institution should be an operating, not a granting institution. He was opposed to
any plan that would result in scattering the work and funds of the Institution. He
believed that "existing institutions should be allowed to continue their work without
aid or interference from the Carnegie Institution." He was "fully convinced that the
Carnegie Institution should carry on its own work, under its own name, and should
publish the results in its own series of publications."
172
CARNEGIE AND MARINE BIOLOGY 173
The Zoology report was signed only by Osborn, Wilson, and Brooks. It must be
noted that all were active members of the Corporation of the Marine Biological
Laboratory. Thus it is not surprising that the Zoology report emphasized marine
biology, treating it under four different headings.
In a section entitled "Permanent Advisory Committee" it was proposed that a
permanent Advisory Committee on Zoology be established, on the rotation system,
to act as advisors in connection with the Marine Biological Laboratory and
Experimental Station, the encouragement of research, expeditions — and so forth.
The reader will note that the title "Marine Biological Laboratory and Experimental
Station" is capitalized.
Under a further heading, "Marine and Experimental Stations" the Committee
strongly endorsed "the establishment of a permanent biological laboratory as a
central station for marine biology in general, with branches at such other points as
may seem desirable; also affiliated or independent experimental stations for the
study of physiological zoology and problems relating to heredity, evolution, etc."
Under the heading "Subsidies," the Committee concluded that "the Zoological
Station at Naples will in all probability be one of the most important centers for
special research work. ... It is therefore desirable, and this Committee strongly
recommends, that the Carnegie Institution subscribe annually for a table at Naples
to the value of $500. . . ."
Finally, under "Supplementary Notes" is found a minority report, a "note by
E. B. Wilson" who argued that the Institution should support regularly at least two
tables at Naples. Wilson wrote, "The advantages derived by American biology as a
whole from the Naples station in the past has been of incalculable value. . . ."
Before proceeding, let me call attention to the striking differences in referring to
marine biology under two headings, just a page apart. Under one heading the
Committee spoke of "the Marine Biological Laboratory and Experimental Station,"
while under the other it wrote more generally of the establishment of a permanent
laboratory "as a central station for marine biology in general. . . ." This disparity
has special significance, and the reasons for it will be made clear. It is indeed the
central part of our story. First, however, let me take up briefly the history of
interactions between Carnegie Institution and the Stazione Zoologica.
CARNEGIE INSTITUTION AND STAZIONE ZOOLOGICA, 1902-1924
E. B. Wilson's minority report prevailed with the Carnegie Executive Committee,
which on 27 October 1902 recommended to the Trustees that the Institution
subscribe to two tables, at a total annual cost of $1000. The Trustees approved and
grant number 55 provided for two tables for the year 1903. One of the tables was
occupied for three months during the spring by E. B. Wilson, and the other by
H. S. Jennings (then at Michigan). The remainder of the year the tables were to be
"open to whomever the director of the laboratory might wish to assign to them."
On 20 December 1902, Anton Dohrn wrote to President Oilman, thanking him
for his "most desired Christmas present," and asking whether the two tables "will
be a permanent establishment?" and whether Oilman wanted "a contract." To this.
Oilman replied, on 5 January 1903, "I can only say that all our appropriations are
made annually, and I have no authority to commit the Trustees beyond the present
year. At the same time I can see no reason why they should not continue this
appropriation for a term of years."
In fact, the Institution provided for two tables, without interruption, until 1915.
In 1903, Wilson proposed that the Institution take a third table, but that request
was denied and the level remained at two tables.
174 J D. EBERT
The Institution's final check for $1000 was sent to the Stazione on 28 January
1915, and was acknowledged by Reinhard Dohrn, then Director, on 15 February.
The Carnegie files thereafter are not extensive. During World War I the Royal
Italian Government assumed the "temporary and extraordinary administration" of
the Stazione, and at the same time Carnegie Institution was involved deeply in
science in the service of the United States.
Correspondence was resumed in 1919-1920. Inquiries were received from B.
Harvey Carroll, the American Consul in Naples, from E. B. Wilson, and from
William Treadwell, among others. The correspondence in the Carnegie Files reveals
very little of the ferment in Naples at that time. In response to all of these inquiries,
President Woodward declined to recommend to the Trustees that the Institution re-
establish relations with the Stazione. On 27 March 1920, Woodward wrote to
Wilson, "One of the rules we have followed since the foundation of the Institution
is not to give funds to governments. . . ." This was to be the "established" or
formal explanation for Woodward's decision. As Woodward wrote to Wilson,
"Some months ago I informed the Italian authorities that the Institution would not
be likely to give any aid to the Station so long as it is maintained as a governmental
establishment."
The correspondence does reveal that Woodward as an individual was sympathetic
to Reinhard Dohrn. The Institution's files contain no direct correspondence with
the then Director of the Station, Professor Monticelli.
The question remained dormant until 1924 when further inquiries were received,
including one from C. B. Davenport, Director of the Institution's own Department
of Genetics. By this time John C. Merriam had succeeded Woodward as President.
On 24 July 1924 Merriam's administrative secretary wrote, "I am sure that Dr.
Merriam is desirous of cooperating in such a project if it proves possible to do so,
but for the present the Executive Committee of the Institution has not considered
that there are available funds for this purpose."
Here this story ends, but the ending should come as no surprise. The Institution
was supporting its own struggling Department of Marine Biology, and financial
exigencies were already pressing President John C. Merriam and the Trustees toward
C. Hart Merriam's position that the Institution's "strength and influence should not
be weakened by diluting and scattering its resources, but husbanded for uses in
keeping with the promise and scope of the Institution."
CARNEGIE INSTITUTION AND THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
We pick up our story again in 1901, not in Washington but in Woods Hole (or
Woods Holl as it was then called). The Marine Biological Laboratory, then in its
thirteenth year, was in grave financial difficulty. In the words of a committee chaired
by Frank R. Lillie (and including C. M. Clapp, E. G. Gardiner, C. O. Whitman
and E. B. Wilson), reporting to the Corporation of the Laboratory in the summer
of 1902,
For several years the financial needs of the Laboratory have been growing without
any corresponding increase of income until the conditions became alarming. The
Trustees had frequently been told by those to whom appeals for support were
made that the defects of our business organization were deterrent to those who
might otherwise contribute to its material support. This condition was brought
to a crisis by an offer received by the Trustees before the last Annual Meeting of
the Corporation, under which generous financial support was guaranteed provided
a suitable business organization could be effected. It was to attain this end that
CARNEGIE AND MARINE BIOLOGY 175
the Trustees asked at the last Annual Meeting of the Corporation that the power
of modifying the by-laws be entrusted to them. This power was given by a
modification of the by-laws adopted at the Annual Meeting in August, 1901.
The plan under consideration at that time involved the transfer of the
property of the Laboratory to a small section of the present Board, composed of
business men who were to assume full financial control and management, while
the scientific members of the Board were to continue as an advisory scientific
council, with general supervision of the work of the Laboratory. It was thus
hoped to secure an efficient financial administration as well as large financial
support, without sacrificing the independence of the Laboratory or the cooperative
principle which has been so potent a factor in its success in the past.
This plan was adopted unanimously at a meeting of the Trustees of the Marine
Biological Laboratory, held in Chicago, 2 January 1902, and it appeared that a
fundamental change in the organization of the Laboratory would be effected that
very year, requiring only ratification by the Trustees at a special meeting to be held
in the state of Massachusetts.
But, as the Lillie Committee wrote, ". . . before ratification of this action, the
announcement of the Carnegie Institution suggested the possibility that the great
resources of this endowment might be made available for the support of the
Laboratory."
This plan, which was never ratified, is described fully by F. R. Lillie as the
'"Chicago Plan" in his book The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory (1944).
It must be described here briefly because the controversy surrounding it helped to
shape the environment in which the "Carnegie Plan" was debated.
On 2 August 1901 President W. R. Harper of the University of Chicago had
written to the Laboratory's Director, C. O. Whitman (also a Professor at the
University) to say that "a company of gentlemen, including Mr. A. C. Bartlett of
Chicago, Mr. Charles Coolidge of Boston, Mr. C. R. Crane of Chicago, and Mr.
L. L. Nunn of Telluride, Colorado" were prepared to become the Laboratory's
Trustees, assuming full financial control and providing management (including a
guarantee of ten thousand dollars in 1902), with the existing scientific Board
assuming the new role of scientific advisors.
Why did the Chicago Plan fail? The projected special meeting of the Trustees
was held, but only seven Trustees (barely a quorum) appeared, and the Director
was absent.
As Lillie described it, there was hope of securing aid from Carnegie Institution.
However there was apprehension as well. After all the plan emanated from, or was
conveyed by, President Harper, and two of the key "players" were Whitman and
Lillie, also at the University of Chicago. The Trustees clearly feared control by a
single university. These fears were exacerbated by the fact that the new lay Trustees
would include "in-laws" of both Whitman and Lillie.
Thus it is not surprising that the Laboratory's Trustees turned readily toward
the fledgling Carnegie Institution, but they were not alone among marine biologists
in their dream of tapping the Carnegie wealth. David Starr Jordan submitted a plan
for studying the fish of the Pacific Ocean. Alexander Agassiz, then President of the
National Academy of Sciences, proposed an expedition to the Pacific to study
marine life. The Governor of Bermuda sought support for the marine station there.
The Marine Biological Laboratory had one unique advantage, however, in the
person of E. B. Wilson, a devoted "MBLer," and a member of Carnegie's Committee
on Zoology, a staunch advocate of the establishment of a "permanent biological
laboratory as a central station for marine biology in general." Moreover, Wilson
176 J. D. EBERT
was not alone in his support of the Marine Biological Laboratory, for as we have
already observed, both Brooks and Osborn served both the MBL and Carnegie.
Events moved quickly. Overtures were made by MBL Trustees to their counter-
parts at Carnegie, and a formal application for aid was sent to President Oilman.
On 11 March 1902, on Walcorfs motion, the Carnegie Executive Committee
resolved that Dr. J. S. Billings be appointed a special committee of one to investigate
and report upon the desirability of the Institution making a grant for the maintenance
of the Marine Biological Laboratory. Billings conferred almost at once with Brooks,
Osborn, Whitman, and Wilson, and as a result of that conference, stated his
willingness to report favorably on the application. It should be emphasized that
Billings made his own position clear at the outset: Carnegie would be more than a
granting institution. He believed that the Institution should place the Laboratory
on a permanent basis, purchase land, erect and equip a new laboratory, and make
suitable provision for its maintenance. Moreover, if this maintenance were to be of
a permanent character, he argued, Carnegie should be placed in full financial control
of the property of the Laboratory.
Moreover, the level of support envisioned by Professor Wilson and other
members of the MBL Board of Trustees was made clear to Billings, who wrote to
President Oilman on 24 March 1902, "This will involve an expenditure of about
$80,000 within the next three or four years . . . , and also an annual expenditure
of about $30,000 for current expenses."
Finally, the Carnegie perspective on teaching was made clear as early as 13
March 1902, when Billings wrote to Wilson ". . . it should be understood that the
primary object of the Laboratory is to promote original research and to give to
competent persons an opportunity to make such research, and that it is not of the
nature of a school for teaching ordinary students?"
As a result of the conference between Billings and the MBL group, a special
meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Marine Biological Laboratory was called.
At that meeting, held in New York, 22 March 1902, the Trustees approved the
incorporation of the Marine Biological Laboratory by the Carnegie Institution "on
the lines indicated in the letter of Dr. Billings," and called for the formation of a
committee to work with the Executive Committee of Carnegie Institution. Carnegie
responded almost immediately, following a meeting of its Executive Committee on
25 March 1902. It was resolved that Carnegie would acquire the Marine Biological
Laboratory, with the understanding "that Trustees of the Laboratory are willing to
turn over its plant to the Institution, provided the latter will undertake the
maintenance and support of the Laboratory." The Carnegie Trustees envisioned
that the MBL would become the Institution's "Department of Marine Zoology." A
special committee was formed by Carnegie to work with an MBL Committee to
prepare a detailed plan for the organization of the new department. Moreover, to
help the MBL through its difficult times, the Executive Committee resolved to
provide the sum of $4,000 on or after 1 August 1 902 as a first contribution toward
the expenses of the Laboratory — providing satisfactory evidence was furnished "that
the Trustees of the Marine Biological Laboratory have full power to transfer the
property of the Laboratory to the Institution, and have agreed to do so."
Two joint meetings of the Conference Committee were held in April and May.
Now, second thoughts began to emerge.
The MBL was in a state of ferment — in crisis — and looked to Carnegie (as it
had looked to the Chicago group) as its financial savior. I emphasize the word
"financial." The financial crisis was real, yet Whitman played only a small part in
the early discussions with Carnegie. It was Wilson to whom most of the Carnegie
CARNEGIE AND MARINE BIOLOGY 177
correspondence was directed. Wilson appears to have understood and to have
accepted the Carnegie position. Whitman surely understood it — but he did not
accept it; still he did not oppose it openly. On 10 May 1902, Wilson wrote to
Walcott as follows:
In reply to your letter of May 3rd: I shall be glad to make a number of suggestions
regarding marine biological research in case the Wood's Hole plan is not carried
out, but I hope that there is no danger of this plan failing. The only difficulty
with the plan seems to be that Professor Whitman is reluctant to take any steps
which will not unite the support of the Carnegie Institution with that of Messrs.
Crane, Nunn and others. The rest of us feel that the plan embodied in the sketch
of by-laws that has been drawn up in consultation with Messrs. Billings and
Hewitt ought to insure this and probably will, and I trust there will be no
difficulty in making the transfer of the property.
Carnegie, too, was in ferment, but its ferment was of a different kind. Andrew
Carnegie had decided not to found a national university, but to establish an
institution devoted to pioneering research and research training, not college or
university education. Its Trustees were of several minds, however, as to the way
Mr. Carnegie's mandate should be followed. Should all of the Institution's funds be
devoted to its own operating departments, for which there were large demands from
the very beginning? Should the Institution be primarily a granting agency, and if
so, should the recipients of grants be established institutions, or individuals? It was
many years before the question was fully resolved, with the Institution focusing
entirely on operating its own departments. In 1902, however two trends had already
begun to emerge, the formation of new operating departments, and grants to
exceptional individuals. The idea of providing substantial grants on a long-term
basis to existing organizations found less favor. The proposal by the Marine
Biological Laboratory provided the first great test for the Carnegie Trustees on this
question.
The test began with a proposal from the Laboratory that a joint Board of
Trustees be established, equally representing Carnegie and the existing Board of the
Marine Biological Laboratory. This proposition failed, with the Carnegie represen-
tatives stating, in substance, that it was not the Institution's policy to enter into
alliance with existing institutions in such a manner as to involve divided control.
The Carnegie group made clear that the Institution might, from time to time, make
special grants to the Marine Biological Laboratory (as it might to other institutions
or individuals) but that permanent and continuous support could only be promised
on condition of a definite and complete transfer of property to the Institution, so
that it might assume full financial control and responsibility. They stated positively
at that time, and subsequently, that it was the wish and intention of Carnegie
Institution upon assuming control, to give "the managers" the fullest possible
scientific independence and freedom.
In due course, the Conference Committee finally agreed to amend the by-laws
of the Marine Biological Laboratory to permit the transfer of the Laboratory to the
Institution. The new by-laws were conveyed to the MBL Trustees on 19 July 1902.
The MBL would now constitute the Department of Marine Biology of Carnegie
Institution. It would be under the general charge of a "Board of Managers," to be
elected by the Executive Committee of Carnegie Institution. At the outset it was
proposed that the Board of Managers would be composed of the then existing Board
of Trustees at MBL. The Board of Managers would have immediate charge of the
Laboratory, it would appoint the director of the Laboratory and in general would
undertake all those responsibilities normally undertaken by the previous Board of
178 J- D. EBERT
Trustees. However, changes in the by-laws had to be approved by the Executive
Committee of the Trustees of Carnegie Institution.
On 12 August the Annual Meeting of the members of the Corporation of the
Laboratory took what proponents of the transfer of the Laboratory to Carnegie
might have regarded as final and conclusive action. The proposed by-laws to be
enacted by Carnegie were read and explained to the Corporation. The Corporation
was apprised that at the MBL Trustees meeting on 19 July a deed was approved
that would convey to Carnegie the land and other holdings of the MBL Corporation.
At the meeting of the Corporation, by a majority of over 60, it was voted that the
Treasurer be authorized to execute, acknowledge, and deliver, in the name and in
behalf of the Corporation the deed conveying all title to the Institution. Only three
negative votes were cast, including one by an individual who would submit a
competing proposal to the Institution, C. B. Davenport. All that remained then was
for the Marine Biological Laboratory to report upon its needs and plans. Still
another committee was empanelled, this time chaired by Whitman. Although
Whitman had voted for the transfer at the meeting of the Corporation, he had let
it be known that he favored an alternate course, namely of getting as large a grant
as possible from the Institution, but remaining independent of it. Indeed, as Wilson
indicated in his letter of 10 May, Whitman wanted monies from both the Carnegie
and Chicago sources, but above all, he wanted the Laboratory's independence,
which he then set out to ensure. Both he and J. McKeen Cattell (who had cast one
of the three negative votes) published articles in Science calling the Corporation's
action into question. Whitman's article, "The impending crisis in the history of the
Marine Biological Laboratory" (1902) is especially noteworthy. Moreover his
Committee report, presented as a "Report of the Trustees of the Marine Biological
Laboratory to the Trustees of the Carnegie Institution" called for an effort far
beyond the scope proposed by Carnegie at the outset. Moreover, surprising especially
to those who have known the Marine Biological Laboratory in recent decades, when
a premium was placed on working with marine organisms, is the statement that
"Biological Station" would better express the character and aim then did the name,
Marine Biological Laboratory. The report states in fact that the word "marine is
there for a somewhat misleading reminiscence of an early stage of development,
when sea forms alone occupied attention."
The report called for not only a "central station at Woods Hole" but also for
secondary stations on the Maine coast and in the West Indies. It was stated further
that "fresh water ponds" would be required as well. Finally, it was argued that a
Biological Farm would be needed for studies of heredity and evolution (possibly to
accommodate the needs of Davenport).
Charles Coolidge, a Boston architect, provided an estimate on the cost of
buildings, land and equipment, which far exceeded anything discussed previously.
According to this proposal the initial cost for a wharf, steam launch, buildings,
ponds, apparatus etc. would amount to over $450,000. Maintenance costs were
estimated at $30,000 for 1903, $75,000 for 1904, and $100,000 for 1905.
It is difficult to evaluate this Report without indulging in "psychohistory." There
can be no doubt that it was prepared hurriedly, but even considering that, it is a
rambling, poorly documented statement, not up to Whitman's usual standard —
especially the long argument for a Biological Farm. The Committee had to have
known that they were calling for far more than Carnegie intended to provide, that
the proposal was unrealistic and doomed to fail. A "psychohistorian" could argue
that Whitman had decided that if MBL were to lose its independence, it would be
at a very high price. This report was prepared after 1 2 August and before 4 October
CARNEGIE AND MARINE BIOLOGY 179
1902, for on the latter date the Carnegie Executive Committee considered it along
with other information received, from MBL Trustees and others. By then, it was
clear to the Carnegie Executive Committee that despite the MBL Corporation's
definitive action, there was still substantial unrest at the Laboratory. The Carnegie
Executive Committee felt constrained to inform MBL of the general principles that
would govern the Executive Committee in its recommendations to the Carnegie
Board in November.
The Carnegie Executive Committee reiterated that it would have to be distinctly
understood that in the case of difference of opinion as to expenditures to be made
or liabilities to be incurred, or as to the policy to be pursued in the conduct of the
Laboratory, the decision of Carnegie Institution, after proper hearing of the views
of the managers to the Laboratory, shall be final and conclusive.
Moreover, the Executive Committee reiterated Billing's statement of 24 March
1902, that the Laboratory should be used for research and not for teaching and that
no instruction shall be given except such as may be furnished by investigators to
their assistants. The object should be to provide "competent investigators with
facilities for making researches."
Moreover, the scheme proposed by the MBL Trustees of making the MBL an
institution for the investigation of problems of evolution, heredity, etc., including a
Biological Farm, would not be approved.
Finally, the Executive Committee reiterated that it would not recommend more
than $80,000 for land, buildings, etc., spread over the first two years; moreover, it
would recommend $10.000 a year for maintenance. Finally, in a crucial statement,
the Executive Committee concluded
if, after considering these statements, the Board of Trustees (of the Marine
Biological Laboratory) is of the opinion that it would prefer to retain the
independence of the Laboratory, as urged by the present Director (Whitman),
and not turn over its property to the Carnegie Institution, the Executive
Committee is prepared to consider a proposition for granting aid to the Laboratory
to the amount of $10,000 a year for the next three years, on condition that
twenty research tables be placed at the disposal of Carnegie Institution, the
occupant of each table to be furnished with supplies and material substantially
as is done by the Naples laboratory.
The Executive Committee asked the MBL Trustees to respond by 25 October 1902.
The Carnegie offer of a significant grant for three years was exactly what
Whitman had been seeking. He was quick to move, convening a meeting of the
Executive Committee of the Marine Biological Laboratory to reply to the Carnegie
Executive Committee's resolutions. Two reports were submitted by the MBL
Executive Committee, a majority report, signed by three members of the committee.
Whitman, Lillie, and Jacob Reighard; and a minority report signed by E. B. Wilson
and T. H. Morgan. The majority report stated that in its view the general principles
stated by the Carnegie Executive Committee were "in some essential respects so
different from anything that has been hitherto considered by the Corporation and
Trustees of the Marine Biological Laboratory, that they would not feel justified in
authorizing the transfer of the property . . . without adequate reconsideration by
that body and the Trustees." They therefore stated their opinion that the MBL
should retain its independence, and requested a grant of $10,000 a year for a period
of three years.
The minority report agreed with the majority of the committee that the transfer
of the Laboratory to the Institution "is for the present inexpedient." They were
180 J. D. EBERT
very explicit however in stating that they held this opinion not because they regarded
the Carnegie recommendations as essentially different from the earlier plan, but
"because the Director of the Laboratory has come to doubt the desirability of that
plan." They stated further "we do not agree with the Director's view, but consider
the transfer of the Laboratory inexpedient unless practically unanimous action can
be taken." Thus the minority view argued that the wisest course is "to recommend
application for a grant of $10,000 for one or more years . . . until the situation
may become more clearly denned."
Wilson and Morgan went on to express the hope that Carnegie Institution may
"without detriment to the interests of the work at Woods Hole, establish or support
a marine station or stations, devoted to pure research, at such points as may seem
desirable."
Neither minutes nor correspondence reveal disappointment on the Carnegie
side, even though the record clearly shows that the final Carnegie position differed
hardly at all from the recommendations advanced by Billings six months earlier.
MBL knew what Carnegie had in mind (Wilson's letter of 10 May to Walcott), but
Whitman, undoubtedly stung by the earlier criticisms he had suffered because of
the "Chicago plan," held stubbornly to his vision of independence, and outmaneu-
vered (or perhaps better, outlasted) Wilson. The Carnegie position was clear: its
Executive Committee had offered the MBL two propositions and one had been
accepted. Nothing more need be said.
It is clear that on the MBL side not only Wilson and Morgan, but others were
disappointed. Davenport was not. Carnegie provided, as agreed, $10,000 annually
for three years. In 1905 Frank Lillie applied for continuation of aid for the
laboratory for the next ten years, or indefinitely. On 23 January 1906, President
Woodward responded, "I regret to state that after careful consideration it was
decided that your petition may not be granted."
Carnegie Institution's Year Book Number 3 (1904) announced the establishment
of a Department of Experimental Biology, including a Station for Experimental
Evolution at Cold Spring Harbor, New York, to be directed by Charles B. Davenport,
and a Marine Biological Laboratory at the Dry Tortugas, Florida, directed by Alfred
G. Mayer.
The Station for Experimental Evolution, combined with Carnegie's Eugenics
Record Office, differentiated gradually into the Department of Genetics, which
provided some of the most glorious chapters in the history of that subject, capped
by a period in which the principal scientists in residence included Hershey,
McClintock, Demerec, Kaufmann, and Streisinger, among others.
Although Mayer himself was a man of exceptional promise, whose contributions
loomed large at the time, the history of the Laboratory at Dry Tortugas was less
glorious. It is the subject of our final chapter.
CARNEGIE INSTITUTION'S DEPARTMENT OF MARINE BIOLOGY
The Board of Trustees of Carnegie Institution, encouraged further by the
Committee on Zoology, continued to give marine biology high priority. Undaunted
by the failure of negotiations with the Marine Biological Laboratory (and much to
the relief of some of their advisors, and some members of the Board itself) they
turned in a new direction. Andrew Carnegie, and the Trustees, had emphasized that
the Institution should seek out and encourage the exceptional individual. An early
"model" of the development of a truly outstanding department, arising from the
brilliance and indomitable energy of one man, was the Department of Astronomy,
CARNEGIE AND MARINE BIOLOGY 181
forged by George Ellery Hale. Encouraged by this model, the Institution turned to
Alfred G. Mayer, a marine biologist and biological oceanographer, then just 36
years old. By all accounts, Mayer was indeed an attractive individual. The son of a
distinguished experimental physicist, Mayer had early on forsaken his father's field
to study biology, encouraged by Alexander Agassiz, with whom he had collaborated.
Mayer, then a curator at the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences, was already
an established investigator and prolific author, and he remained highly productive
for the next eighteen years of his brief life. He was a naturalist, systematist, and
comparative physiologist, as well as a superb sailor and a gifted amateur engineer
and artist. Using the Laboratory's yachts, Physalia and Anton Dohrn, he studied the
fauna along the Atlantic coast, and in other vessels made expeditions to the Pacific.
He wrote about the growth of coral. He was deeply interested in the phenomenon
of rhythmical pulsation in marine organisms — in the medusa, in the branchial arms
of the barnacle, in the heart of Salpa, and of the embryo Logger Head turtle. He
had a continuing interest in the swarming of the Atlantic Palolo worm. Despite the
breadth of his interests, he explored a number of problems in such depth that he
was elected to the National Academy of Sciences at the age of 48.
But if the Trustees selected a brilliant man to head the fledgling department,
they allowed him to select a poor site for the Laboratory — Logger Head Key,
Tortugas, Florida. From the beginning the Laboratory was seen to have two
functions, to provide a base for Mayer's own expeditions and experimental studies,
and to provide a setting for intensive research during the summer by university
scientists. Unfortunately, the "season" was brief, from May through July when the
hurricane season began. Tortugas, and the Laboratory as Mayer developed it, did
not support families and a diverse summer community like that at the Marine
Biological Laboratory. The number of visiting investigators was small, but the
quality was high. In 1905, for example, the roster included E. G. Conklin, H. S.
Jennings, William K. Brooks, R. P. Cowles, and Jacob Reighard, with Davenport
Hooker as scientific collector. In the first five years of operation, Mayer reported a
total of 29 visiting scientists in residence.
From the beginning however, the Laboratory was beset by problems: great
hurricanes, the necessity of bringing supplies, including potable water, from Key
West, and the inability of the Laboratory to accommodate wives and children.
Thus, Mayer was lead to propose transferring the Laboratory to the Bahamas,
to Maine, or to Jamaica. He had emphasized at the outset that he had erected
portable laboratories suggesting that he never viewed Tortugas as a permanent site.
None of Mayer's pleas engendered a favorable response from Washington.
World War I brought further difficulties. The government converted the Anton
Dohrn into a patrol boat and Mayer taught navigation and seamanship. And as
Frank Portugal has written (unpubl. ms.),
this was an equally unhappy period for Mayer. Strong anti-German sentiment in
America made him ashamed of his German name. An embarrassed Mayer had
such difficulties in getting his passport renewed that he had to ask Woodward for
letters of recommendation attesting to his loyalty as an American citizen. Later,
when he arrived back in America, he was subject to an intensive search by
immigration officials, who labeled him a "suspicious character" and suggested
that he carried wireless equipment for secret transmissions to the enemy. He had
no choice. Writing Woodward, he announced, "my name has been legally
changed from Mayer (a Hun name) to Mayor . . . the old form makes me
bristle whenever I look at it.
182 J D EBERT
Problems continued to mount. Mayor had tuberculosis, and another hurricane
in 1919 severely damaged the facility. Mayor's death in 1922 from tuberculosis
sounded the death knell for the Laboratory itself, although the Laboratory's death
was "lingering." John C. Merriam, who had replaced Woodward as President of the
Institution, had little interest in the Laboratory himself and found no support for it
among other leading biologists in the Institution. The Trustees considered successors
to Mayor including Alfred Redfield, then an assistant professor in the Harvard
Medical School, but finally decided to perpetuate the Laboratory only as a modest
center for the work of investigators for other institutions. Thus, instead of naming
a new director, they named William H. Longley of Goucher College as Administrative
Officer. All through the 1930s Merriam and the Trustees vacillated about closing
the Laboratory. When Longley died in 1937 David Tennent of Bryn Mawr was
asked to succeed him on an interim basis.
Vannevar Bush, who succeeded Merriam as President in 1939, settled the issue
quickly. He closed the Laboratory and repaired the Anton Dohrn and transported it
to the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution.
Thus the dreams of Alfred G. Mayor, and of the Institution's 1902 Committee
on Zoology were never fully realized, for marine biology was one of the few fields
upon which the Institution embarked in which its efforts did not truly "make a
lasting difference."
LITERATURE CITED1
LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press. 284 pp.
WHITMAN, C. O. 1902. The impending crisis in the history of the Marine Biological Laboratory. Science
16: 529-533.
1 I have drawn heavily on Carnegie Institution of Washington Year Books, and on the Institution's
Archives.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 183-186. (June, 1985)
EVOLVING INSTITUTIONAL PATTERNS FOR EXCELLENCE: A BRIEF
COMPARISON OF THE ORGANIZATION AND MANAGEMENT OF
THE COLD SPRING HARBOR LABORATORY AND
THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
JAMES D. EBERT
Carnegie Institution of Washington, 15 30 P Street, N. W. Washington. DC 20005
INTRODUCTION
I was asked to compare the organization and management of the Cold Spring
Harbor Laboratory and the Marine Biological Laboratory. I began with the MBL,
which was better known to the participants in the symposium.
MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
The crucial element in the organization of the Marine Biological Laboratory is
the relationship between the Trustees and the members who constitute the Corpo-
ration, for, in F. R. Lillie's words "this has been a controlling factor in the history
of the Marine Biological Laboratory. The members constituting the Corporation
proper elect — usually from their own membership — the Trustees, who, in their turn,
have the exclusive right to elect the members of the Corporation." (Lillie, 1944).
When the Laboratory was incorporated in March, 1888, seven Trustees were
elected, one of whom, Alpheus Hyatt, was the first President. There were in addition
a Secretary, a Treasurer, and a Clerk. Immediately after they were elected, the first
Trustees elected forty-seven additional members of the Corporation. For several
years thereafter it was the custom to elect to the Corporation all workers at the
Laboratory who signified their willingness to become members. By 1894, according
to Lillie, there were 304 regular members and 52 life members.
Gradually, over the years, the number of Trustees was increased — to eleven in
1889, to nineteen in 1891 (plus two members ex-officio), and in 1897 to twenty-
four, divided into four classes of six each, with three members ex-officio, the
Director, Assistant Director, and Clerk.
By the 1940s, the number of Trustees had grown to thirty-two, four classes of
eight, plus five members ex-officio, the President and Vice-President of the Corpo-
ration, the Director, Treasurer, and Clerk. With rare exceptions, all of the Officers
and Trustees were scientists.
This pattern did not change significantly until the 1960s. In 1963 the by-laws
were amended, adding a Chairman of the Board of Trustees to the already existing
President and Director. The responsibilities of the Chairman and President were
sharply defined, with the Chairman (a non-scientist) being responsible for business
and external affairs, while the President, a scientist, would provide oversight, along
with the Director, over scientific matters. The first Chairman was Gerard Swope,
Jr., and the President and Director at that time were Arthur Parpart and Philip
Armstrong, respectively. Later in the 1960s the number of Trustees was increased
to thirty-six, with the additional Trustee in each class being a non-scientist, or "lay"
Trustee.
183
184 J. D. EBERT
In the 1970s, as the Laboratory moved further toward functioning as a year
round scientific center, further changes in governance were required, and the
composition of the Board of Trustees was changed again, evolving to the pattern of
the current Board, twenty-four scientific Trustees, six in each class, elected by the
Corporation, plus twelve "lay" or "Board" Trustees, three in each class, elected by
the Board of Trustees.
Since 1970, the roles of President and Director have always been filled by the
same individual, except for 1975-1976 when K. R. Porter was Director, with J. D.
Ebert serving as President.
Authority to act for the Board of Trustees between meetings is vested in the
Executive Committee of the Board of Trustees, composed of the officers of the
Board plus six members elected by the Board of Trustees.
COLD SPRING HARBOR LABORATORY
I turn now to the governance and major affiliations of the Cold Spring Harbor
Laboratory.
It may be instructive, before examining the present organization, to take up
briefly the origins of the Laboratory.
In the mid- 19th century, John H. Jones built a dock to facilitate the outfitting
of whale-ships on the east side of the inner harbor of the Long Island village of
Cold Spring Harbor. His son, John D. Jones, inherited the family homestead and
adjoining grounds. John D. Jones was an uncommon man of his day, who developed
a keen interest in science. In the words of his brother, W. R. T. Jones (1904),
the Brooklyn Institute [of Arts and Sciences] desiring a place to establish a school
of biology, he [John D. Jones] put up for that Institute a building suitable for its
purpose, and the school, under charge of able professors, has been a success,
doing original work which has been a credit to Long Island, and acknowledged
as such by similar foreign institutions. He also leased to the State of New York
grounds for a fish hatchery, which is now turning out each year several hundred
thousand trout and salmon to stock the inland waters of the State.
Thus science at Cold Spring Harbor sprung in large part from the interest of an
exceptional individual.
Seeing the need of an organization to perpetuate the management and care of
the grounds and property devoted by him to scientific research, John D. Jones
incorporated the Wawepex Society, the name Wawepex being taken from an old
Indian name of the harbor. John D. Jones was the first governor of the Society,
continuing in that office until his death in 1895.
The next significant change at Cold Spring Harbor was the opening of Carnegie
Institution of Washington's Station for Experimental Evolution on 11 June 1904,
under the leadership of C. B. Davenport. The Wawepex Society offered about ten
acres of land, which would be leased for fifty years to Carnegie Institution of
Washington for a nominal sum. For twenty years the Carnegie Department and the
Biological Station of the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences lived side by side.
The Station for Experimental Evolution was combined with Carnegie's Eugenics
Record Office in 1921 to form a Department of Genetics. Davenport remained
Director until 1934, when he was succeeded by A. F. Blakeslee, who served in that
role until 1941.
In 1924 the Brooklyn Institute withdrew its support of the Biological Station,
and community leaders in Cold Spring Harbor organized their own association, the
MBL AND COLD SPRING HARBOR COMPARED 185
Long Island Biological Association, that actually administered the Laboratory until
its reorganization as an independent unit in 1962.
Although significant work had been accomplished at Cold Spring Harbor from
the very beginning, the first "truly great" period in research there began with the
arrival of Milislav Demerec at the Carnegie Department of Genetics in 1941. The
two decades, 1942-1962, were extraordinarily rich in both the Carnegie Department
of Genetics and the Biological Laboratory, managed by LIBA. The two organizations
collaborated closely, and for a considerable period Demerec served as Director of
both organizations.
In 1962 the Carnegie Department of Genetics was terminated as a separate
administrative unit of the Institution. Those of its staff who remained at Cold
Spring Harbor in the "Genetics Research Unit" cooperated with the new Cold
Spring Harbor Laboratory that emerged from the Biological Laboratory in that year.
As described in the Annual Report of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, LIBA
remains a non-profit organization, which represents a growing constituency of
"friends of the Laboratory."
The current Board of Trustees of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory is divided
between individual Trustees and "institutional" Trustees. Institutional Trustees—
currently there are representatives of twelve institutions, including LIBA and the
Wawepex Society — were brought on to the Board during the 1960s when the
Laboratory was undergoing reorganization. The current Annual Report of the
Laboratory states that
in addition to supplying scientific leadership to the governing body, participating
institutions also provided emergency funds to help keep the Laboratory afloat
during this crucial phase of development. Although participating institutions now
give only token financial support, their Trustees continue to help steer the course
of the laboratory's scientific and administrative policies.
There are in addition thirteen individual Trustees; thus all told there are twenty-
five Trustees, who meet three or four times a year. Again, authority to act for the
Board between meetings is vested in the Executive Committee of the Board, which
is composed of officers of the Board plus members elected to the Executive
Committee by the Board of Trustees.
CRUCIAL DIFFERENCES
There are two crucial differences in the organizations of the Cold Spring Harbor
Laboratory and the Marine Biological Laboratory. They are found in the existence
of the MBL Corporation, and in the substantial majority of scientific Trustees
elected by the Corporation at MBL. As Gross has written (1984), these are "working
members of the faculty; dedicated scholars. They are specifically not outsiders. They
have a high personal stake in the day to day operations of the place."
At Cold Spring Harbor, other than in the legal sense, there is nothing equivalent
to the MBL Corporation. Control of the Laboratory is vested in the Board of
Trustees, with the individual Trustees having a slight majority. However, that
majority appears to have little significance, for the institutional Trustees nominated
by the participating institutions and who rarely have a personal stake in the
Laboratory's day to day operations, tend to act in concert with the individual
Trustees.
From these significant differences in organization spring further differences in
management, in both policy and style, expressed in the expectations of many MBL
186 J. D. EBERT
Corporation members and Trustees to preserve and enhance "their own piece of
the action." The uniqueness of the MBL's organization has not prevented the
evolution of the Laboratory into a financially viable and creative modern center for
research and advanced teaching, but at times it has slowed the process significantly.
LITERATURE CITED
GROSS, P. 1984. Report of the Director of the Marine Biological Laboratory. Biol. Bull. 167: 34-45.
JONES, W. R. T. 1904. Address of Presentation by the Governor of the Wawepex Society. Carnegie Insl.
Wash. Year Book 3: 34-36.
LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press. 284 pp.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 187-191. (June. 1985)
FIRST IMPRESSIONS: AMERICAN BIOLOGISTS AT NAPLES
JANE MAIENSCHEIN
Department of Philosophy, Arizona State University, Tempe. Arizona 85287
ABSTRACT
This paper examines reactions of American biologists who traveled to the
Stazione Zoologica in Naples during the 1880s and 1890s. The 1890s took a number
of Americans to Naples despite the development of research resources in their own
country. In part this can be attributed to the continued support of the Stazione by
those Americans who had first gone, particularly by Whitman, Wilson, and Morgan.
The Naples Station continued to exert an important influence on American
biologists into the first years of the twentieth century.
DISCUSSION
In 1881, Professor William Keith Brooks at Johns Hopkins reported that E. B.
Wilson's dissertation work would make just as "valuable and handsome a paper as
those from Dohrn's laboratory," if only a place could be found to publish it (Brooks,
4 June 1881). This statement revealed two phenomena: first, that the United States
did not offer acceptable vehicles for publication of detailed biological work and
second, that work at Dohrn's laboratory set a standard for biology by 1881. I wish
to focus here on the second of these points. By 1881, the Naples Station had
achieved a reputation in the United States for publication and research, but no
American student had yet worked there. That situation changed when Charles Otis
Whitman arrived in November 1881.
Presumably Whitman had heard about the Station while he was a graduate
student studying under Rudolf Leuckart in Leipzig, but his first opportunity to visit
Naples came after his three years of teaching at the University of Tokyo (Lillie,
1911; Morse, 1912). On his way back to the United States, he stopped in Naples,
hoping to stay a few months. Since he had worked in Germany and since no
institution from the United States had subscribed to a table at the Naples Station,
Anton Dohrn welcomed Whitman as his guest from November until May 1882
(Lillie, 1911, p. xxiv). Whitman wrote to a friend that he was "having a delightful
time at work in the station,'" and that he found there "greater advantages than are
to be found anywhere else in Europe" (Whitman, 23 February 1892). While he had
concentrated on leeches in Leipzig and Japan, in Naples he turned to the parasitic
dicyemids (Whitman, 1883). Whitman recorded his positive reaction to Naples and
Dohrn's Station in an article in Science, concluding that the international character
of the Station had made it the "Mecca of biologists, and a seat of unprecedented
prolific activity." Naples was the place to learn methods. Whitman wrote, and
This one but all-important matter, to say nothing of the many other advantages
that must accrue to an occupant of a table at the station, — such as social
intercourse, direct knowledge of a very important fauna, and opportunities of
acquiring a knowledge of the four languages with which every naturalist must
now be familiar, — makes it very desirable, particularly for our younger naturalists,
to spend some time at Naples [Whitman, 1883, pp. 94, 95; 1882].
He continued to call for American support of the Station, arguing that even if the
187
188 J. MAIKNSCHEIN
United States had its own laboratory (namely the United States Fish Commission),
Naples offered special opportunities.
Another American visited Naples very shortly after Whitman left, as revealed
by the records at Naples. Christiane Groeben has compiled a list of those Americans
who visited Naples and has identified a number of items in the Archives at Naples
for some of those individuals. Groeben reports that Emily Nunn was the second to
visit the Naples Station. She had been studying in England and worked at an
English table. She later married Whitman, though they did not meet in Naples.
Emily Nunn recorded her favorable impressions of the Station, but evidently was
advised to gain more experience in independent research before spending more time
at Naples so did not stay as long as she had intended (Nunn, 1883; Groeben, 1984).
Whitman was certainly the more important American visitor as far as Dohrn was
concerned.
That Whitman left a very favorable impression on Dohrn is clear from Dohrn's
letter supporting Whitman's application for a position at Columbia University. As
Dohrn wrote, "The half year you worked in the Zoological Station has given me
the highest opinion of what you will be able to accomplish in the right situation;
and if my word can have the least influence with the authorities of the College, it
will go thoroughly in your favor" (Dohrn, 25 June, 1885). Columbia did not, in
fact, hire Whitman for that position but instead eventually chose Edmund Beecher
Wilson for a similar job. And Wilson was the first man to work at the Naples
Station officially, that is at a properly subscribed table (Osborn, 1895;
Groeben, 1984).
At first Wilson encountered difficulties in receiving acceptance to work at the
Station. He had expected to work at one of the English tables but found them full
when he arrived in Naples in March 1883. Also he learned that "it is considered
unfair to admit men to the station unless regularly provided for by a subscription
from their own country." Even the prospect of a subscription would allow Dohrn
to admit Wilson, but acting otherwise would be unfair to those of other countries
whom Dohrn had had to turn away. Naturally, Wilson felt keenly disappointed, for
he believed that "the station has now become practically the headquarters from
which most of the leading European laboratories derive their best methods, and
where, indeed, much of their most telling work is done." Naples remained a
"tempting treasure" to be anticipated (Wilson, 9 March 1883). Fortunately, by
April Wilson was in place at a table subscribed by Williams College in an
arrangement made by Wilson's cousin Samuel Clarke, who went to Naples the next
year while Wilson taught at Williams for him (Morgan, 1940, p. 126; 1941, pp.
319-320; 1942, p. 240).
In the meantime President Gilman of Hopkins had offered to take a table for
Wilson, and Wilson, "as a good Hopkins man," regretted that Hopkins had not
been the first American institution to do so. In part hoping to elicit Oilman's
further support, Wilson enthused about the opportunities at Naples:
It is in every respect the best laboratory I have seen and my high expectations
have been fully met.
Two things especially strike me as characteristic of this laboratory. The first
is the perfection of the technical methods of research. It is now almost proverbial
for zoologists to say: "For methods go to Naples" and in the same breath is
usually added "A good method is half the battle." Certain it is that many of the
best modes of work now used at Leipsic, Cambridge and elsewhere have
originated here. The secret of this is simply that fifteen or twenty zoologists are
usually at work, who come from laboratories in all parts of the world and bring
AMERICAN BIOLOGISTS AT NAPLES 189
their experience to a focus here. They are all experimenting and comparing
results and new methods can thus be very thoroughly tested . . . [Wilson, 13
April 1883].
Wilson expected to stay awhile, possibly as long as a year in Naples, though he
was not sure that he could afford such a lengthy visit. Yet Dohrn reportedly soon
invited Wilson to stay for three years and to publish a lengthy study of the local
Rcnilla which would complement Wilson's study of American Renilla (Brooks,
15 July 1882). Wilson loved the Station, the colorful setting, and especially the
music which played an important part in his life. For family and career reasons, he
nonetheless reluctantly declined Dohrn's offer and returned to the United States.
As he said later, Naples had made "a deep and lasting impression" on him (Morgan,
1941, pp. 319-320). In discussing future plans for the Marine Biological Laboratory
in later years, it is clear that Wilson retained fond admiration for the Naples Station
and in some respects wished to make the MBL more like Naples (Lillie Papers).
A decade later, in the 1890's, Wilson returned for a second visit, along with an
increasing number of other Americans. Undoubtedly the enthusiasm expressed by
Whitman and Wilson during the summers at the MBL, as well as the exciting new
work issuing from the Station stimulated a number of American biologists, including
George Howard Parker, William Morton Wheeler, Thomas Hunt Morgan, and
eventually Edwin Grant Conklin, to visit Naples themselves. The Naples experience
influenced each of these men, as each directly responded to the dominant questions
and research of Naples in his own work. Each of these men recorded the impressions
which the Naples experience left on him.
Parker arrived first, in the spring of 1893. He had spent three summers in
Woods Hole at the U. S. Fish Commission and the MBL, and then had gone to
Europe to study the origins of the nervous system. He resolved to spend a half year
each in Leipzig, Berlin, and Freiburg, then to go on to Naples, for as he said,
"Every young zoologist of my generation was desirous, as part of his early training,
to work at the Naples Zoological Station" (Parker, 1946, pp. 136, 82-83, 91).
Though he did not say much about his scientific work at Naples, it seems clear that
the opportunity to work with a variety of different organisms and to discuss results
with a diverse group of researchers helped him to some of his generalizations about
nervous structure and function. In leaving he concluded that "of all places to spend
the opening half of the year Naples stood at the forefront" (Parker, 1946, p. 107).
Wheeler arrived in Naples at the turn of the new year, after a stay with Theodore
Boveri in Wiirzburg. In a postcard to a friend at Chicago, Wheeler wrote:
Have at last reached the "Mecca" and hope to go to work tomorrow, when my
place in the lab will be ready for me. Naples is even more beautiful than 1 had
imagined it to be. There is plenty of foliage on the trees and the weather is
heavenly compared with what you are probably having in Chicago . . . Regards
to the boys and to Professor Whitman [Evans and Evans, 1970, p. 89].
Yet Wheeler found the poverty and Neapolitan lifestyle appalling, even while he
found the scenery so attractive. Though later known for his outstanding work on
ants. Wheeler spent his time at Naples on developmental studies of various
invertebrates, including the Myzostoma, which he found begin as small young males
and mature into females. Clearly stimulated by the dominant concerns with
development at the MBL and at the University of Chicago under Whitman,
Wheeler's early researches followed the pattern of many of the young American
biologists. His firm grounding in the methods and problems of cytology and
developmental morphology provided the foundation for later work (Evans and
190 J MAIENSCHEIN
Evans, 1970, pp. 89-98). And he pursued that grounding during three and a half
months of embryological study at Naples. Presumably it was at Naples that Wheeler
became interested in the debates about development stimulated by the half embryo
experiments of Roux and Driesch. Yet though he went on to translate Roux's
manifesto for Entwickelungsmechanik for an evening lecture at the MBL, Wheeler
always maintained a traditional morphological focus on the whole organism. He
resisted the rush exemplified by Entwickelungsmechanik to cut up organisms and
to manipulate them with experimentation. Leaving Europe in July to return to
Chicago, Wheeler met Morgan, who was then on his way to Naples (Wheeler, 1895;
Evans and Evans, 1970, pp. 104, 234-235).
Morgan clearly received a particularly strong stimulus to his work at Naples.
Biographers have emphasized the contact there with Hans Driesch and Driesch's
impact on Morgan (Allen, 1978). Clearly Morgan did respond to the debates in
progress among Driesch, Roux, and others convened at Naples — debates about the
extent to which an embryo experiences any preformation or predetermination
because of its inheritance or early structure. Of the stimulating setting, Morgan
wrote that "No one can fail to be impressed and to learn much in the clash of
thought and criticism that must be present where such diverse elements come
together" (Morgan, 1896). In fact Morgan's early work generally followed closely
the interests of those around him or responded to problems which seemed particularly
exciting at the time, so the stimulus at the MBL, then Naples directed him (Brooks,
21 June 1891). The years just prior to his Naples visit reveal his existing interest in
the experimental work of Pfliiger, Born, Roux, Chabry, Driesch, and Hertwig on
early development: whether the concrescence theory works for teleosts and frogs
and whether the echinoderm egg is isotropic dominated Morgan's work, with general
questions about whether preformation or epigenesis best characterizes development.
Much of Morgan's work began with a review and often the repetition of other
results, then moved to Morgan's own related experiments. At Naples, where Morgan
became friends with Driesch, his attention turned very directly to Driesch's work
on fragmentation and partial embryos and their impact on interpretations of
development. In the heated debate about preformation and epigenesis, about
Weismann's and Roux's mosaic or Driesch's regulative views of development,
Morgan himself maintained a moderate position, sympathetic to Driesch but closer
to Whitman's emphasis on "organic continuity" to explain development (Sturtevant,
1959; Allen, 1978, pp. 55-60, 78-84).
Edwin Grant Conklin similarly rejected the developmental interpretations of
Driesch or Weismann and Roux. His detailed cell lineage work on ascidian
development led him to conclude that cleavage in some forms is determinate, in
others indeterminate with respect to later development. This conclusion led him
into direct disagreement with Driesch, who maintained that cleavage remains
indeterminate. Yet when Driesch traveled to the United States he visited Conklin
in Princeton and established friendly relations. It was not until 1910, when he
attended a conference at Graz that Conklin visited Naples and followed up some of
his disagreements with Driesch. Specifically, he examined at Naples the same
organism that Driesch had studied there (Phallusia mamillata) and established that
that form develops determinately as does Cynthia or Amphioxus, which Conklin
had studied in detail earlier (Butler, 1952; Harvey, 1958, p. 65). He did not change
his mind or his research program because of his work at Naples; rather his studies
allowed him to discredit Driesch's alternative interpretations. And Conklin acquired
further material to support his conclusion about the central role of cytoplasmic
factors in development.
AMERICAN BIOLOGISTS AT NAPLES 191
After the 189CTs the American situation had substantially improved, and yet
Americans still visited Naples. The MBL and the Journal of Morphology provided
a laboratory and a publication outlet for Americans. And successful graduate
programs provided places to pursue degrees. Yet the Americans went to Naples to
learn theories and methods, to experience the special international exchange of
ideas that took place at that "Mecca," and to examine organisms native to the area.
The MBL did not replace the Naples experience for Americans and was not
intended to do so, but complemented it. Positive first impressions stimulated a long
tradition of American expeditions to the Naples Station.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank Ruth Davis at the MBL, Ann Blum at the Museum of
Comparative Zoology, Christiane Groeben at Naples, and the archivists at the
University of Chicago, the Johns Hopkins University Archives, and the Johns
Hopkins University Manuscripts Collections for their assistance. All passages quoted
with permission.
LITERATURE CITED
ALLEN, GARLAND. 1978. Thomas Hunt Morgan. Princeton University Press, Princeton.
BROOKS, WILLIAM KEITH, to President Oilman, letters. Oilman Papers, Johns Hopkins University
Manuscripts.
BUTLER, ELMER GRIMSHAW. 1952. Edwin Grant Conklin (1863-1952). Am. Phil. Soc. Yearbook 1952:
5-12.
DOHRN, ANTON, to Whitman, letter, Agassiz Collection, Museum of Comparative Zoology Archives,
Harvard University.
EVANS, MARY ALICE, AND HOWARD ENSIGN EVANS. 1970. William Morton Wheeler. Harvard University
Press, Cambridge.
GROEBEN, CHRISTIANE. 1984. List of Americans who visited Naples. Naples and MBL Archives.
HARVEY, E. NEWTON. 1958. Edwin Grant Conklin. Nat. Acad. Sci. Biog. Mem. 31: 54-91.
LILLIE, FRANK RATTRAY. 1911. Charles Otis Whitman. J. Morphol. 22: xv-Lxxvii.
Lillie Papers, MBL Archives.
MORGAN, THOMAS HUNT. 1896. Impressions of the Naples Zoological Station. Science 3: 16-18.
MORGAN, THOMAS HUNT. 1940. Edmund Beecher Wilson. Obit. Notice Fellows of R. Soc. 3: 123-138
(p. 126).
MORGAN, THOMAS HUNT. 1941. Edmund Beecher Wilson. Nail. Acad. Sci. Biog. Mem. 21: 315-342.
MORGAN, THOMAS HUNT. 1942. Edmund Beecher Wilson. Science 96: 239-242.
MORSE, EDWARDS. 1912. Charles Otis Whitman 1842-1910. Nat I. Acad. Sci. Biog. Mem. 7: 269-288.
NUNN, EMILY. 1883. The Naples Zoological Station. Science 1: 479-481, 507-510.
OSBORN, HENRY FAIRFIELD. 1895. American students at the Naples Zoological Station. Science 1: 238-
239.
PARKER, GEORGE HOWARD. 1946. The World Expands. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.
STURTEVANT, A. H. 1959. Thomas Hunt Morgan. Natl. Acad. Sci. Biog. Mem. 33: 283-299.
WHEELER, WILLIAM MORTON. 1895. The problems, methods and scope of developmental mechanics.
Biological Lectures 1894: 149-189.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1882. Methods of microscopical research in the Zoological Station in Naples.
Am. Nat. 16: 697-706, 722-785.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1883. The advantages of study of the Naples Zoological Station. Science 2:
93-97.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1892. Letter, Whitman Papers, University of Chicago Archives.
WILSON, EDMUND BEECHER. Student file, Johns Hopkins University Archives.
RdiTcncc: liiol. Hull. 168 (suppl.): 192-196. (June, 19X5)
EARLY STRUGGLES AT THE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY
OVER MISSION AND MONEY
JANE MAIENSCHEIN
Department of Philosophy, Arizona State University, I'einpe, Arizona H5287
ABSTRACT
In its first decades, the MBL Trustees and their Director, Charles Otis Whitman,
often disagreed over the proper goals and justified expenditures for the MBL. This
paper examines the nature of those struggles and the attempts at resolution, leading
ultimately to Whitman's disappointment and resignation.
DISCUSSION
In 1884, before the MBL began, Edmund Beecher Wilson had spent a year in
Europe after finishing his degree at Johns Hopkins. He wrote to President Oilman
at Hopkins that a number of Europeans expressed surprise at the lack of interest in
biology in America. So many organisms to be explored, so many resources to be
developed. As Wilson wrote, "American zoology seems to me a good example of a
prophet without honor in his own country" (Wilson, 13 April 1883). He continued
to find it embarrassing that the United States lacked a permanent research facility.
Baird's efforts at the United States Fish Commission had not succeeded in establishing
it as a research center. There was room for an American laboratory, Wilson felt,
and a need for one.
Naples offered a fine example of a biological research station, and for Wilson its
superiority lay clearly in one simple fact: that "money has not been wanting, so
that the management has been able to offer good facilities for work and has thus
attracted the best workers" (Wilson, 13 April 1883). Of course, Dohrn deserves
credit for supplying most of the money, and he worked continually to insure an
adequate income at Naples. No one connected with the MBL offered as much as
Dohrn did at Naples. Money remained a constant problem in the first decades of
the MBL.
With only $10,000 for the first year, the MBL opened in the rather shoestring
manner described by Cornelia Clapp (Clapp, 1927). The Trustees expected their
money to prove sufficient for four years, then they planned to secure a permanent
endowment (MBL Minutes, 1888). Over the first few years, they reluctantly
authorized adding modest new buildings as the demand grew. Still, by the years
1892-1894 the MBL experienced a balanced budget, with the help of careful
planning and cutting of extras, but 1894-1895 brought the beginning of serious
crises (MBL Minutes, Annual Reports).
These financial troubles reflected more fundamental disagreements as well. The
Trustees had not specified the goals of the MBL, for example, preferring instead to
leave the definition to the first director. But they disagreed even about who should
be that first director. Those Trustees from the Women's Education Association in
Boston, who had supported the Annisquam precursor of the MBL, revealed their
expectations from the beginning. Presumably they envisioned the MBL as following
ak r more or less the lines that the Annisquam Laboratory had pursued, concen-
trati. mainly on fairly introductory teaching. Thus they held that the director of
192
EARLY STRUGGLES 193
the MBL should be B. H. van Vleck, who had served as assistant at Annisquam.
Other Trustees, including the Annisquam director Alpheus Hyatt, saw the advantages
of selecting a nationally recognized figure like William Keith Brooks or Charles Otis
Whitman, either of whom would bring major changes to the lab. In the end the
Trustees chose Brooks, then Whitman. They left unspecified such major decisions
as the relative roles they expected teaching and research to play, though the intention
was always to pursue a balance of both unless the Fish Commission established a
successful research center, in which case the MBL would focus on teaching classes
(MBL Minutes, 1888, p. 38).
Beyond this basic agreement to pursue both teaching and research, however, the
Trustees evidently never reached an agreement about the ways and degree to which
they expected the MBL to expand. Thus, when Whitman insisted on making the
expenditures he regarded as necessary to supply a legitimate laboratory for a growing
number of people, the Trustees felt that Whitman spent too much. They sought to
limit his spending (Whitman to Conklin, MBL Minutes, Annual Reports). Obviously,
such disagreement led to fundamental struggles over who would control the MBL.
Whitman's contributions to the Annual Reports reflect his ambitions. The goal
at the MBL should be "to organize one of the strongest and most productive
biological stations in the world" which would allow the United States to make a
good showing when compared with such successful places as the Naples Station
(Whitman, Annual Report, 1890, p. 22). The MBL should remain a laboratory for
all biology, including morphology and physiology, zoology and botany, marine and
more general biology, and it should be a place for both independent research and
teaching. For Whitman, the MBL promised to become the premier American
biological laboratory. Yet he recognized the accuracy of Wilson's emphasis on
money. He saw the need to obtain an endowment for the lab, ideally a half-million
dollar endowment to establish a full-time, year-round biological station. His great
hopes met continued obstacles, and the ideal of a permanent center for both research
and teaching remained unrealized (Whitman, 1891, 1893a, b, 1894, 1898).
Success amplified the problems beginning in 1894 and 1895. Attendance had
increased dramatically, from 15 in 1888 to 199 by 1895, and financing had become
ever more difficult. To Whitman expansion seemed desirable, both for students and
for researchers. He urged more building in 1895 to provide more room. And he
continued to urge the need for solid financial backing. It looked, in 1895, as though
that backing might materialize. Miss Helen Culver of Chicago evidently intended
to give a half-million dollars each to the MBL and to the University of Chicago's
biology program. Whitman headed both, and he worked hard to obtain the dual
gift. A letter from Whitman to Miss Culver clearly indicates that part of the gift
was originally intended for the MBL:
The Marine Biological Laboratory has already become an intercollegiate
centre for research and instruction. Some over twenty colleges and universities
are now contributing to the support of the Laboratory by subscriptions to rooms
and tables, and no less than eighty-five institutions were represented in our
membership last summer. The national character of the Laboratory is the chief
glory and that I am sure will be wisely guarded in the foundation you have
bestowed.
Instead, for unknown reasons, Miss Culver gave the entire million to the University
and none to the MBL (Whitman, to Miss Helen Culver, 20 December 1895). The
goals for the MBL remained elusive.
Whitman continued to support growth and expansion, but in 1896 the Trustees
as a whole said, in effect, "no more." Yet the Executive Committee of the Trustees
194 J. MAIENSCHEIN
approved the expansion and expenditures. With Whitman's personal financial
backing, the group finally achieved agreement, but the seed of crisis had been sown
(Lillie, 1944, pp. 43-44; Trustees, 1897; Clarke et ai, 1897). The disagreement
brought the first confrontation, with a major split in the Board of Trustees. In late
1896 and early 1897, the Trustees met and agreed to keep the lab open only if they
could raise $2000 to cover costs. They met in Boston, and they did not even consult
Whitman. Further, they postponed announcing the 1897 session until they had met
and made financial decisions about whether to continue; the uncertainty cut into
that summer's attendance. The annual meeting at Woods Hole in August 1897 was
very tense, with major disagreements about how to run the lab. The meeting
brought new by-laws and election of new Trustees, with only two of the original
Boston Trustees remaining on the Board. As Whitman reported to Dohrn, he was
particularly delighted to have gotten rid of the "old maids" from the Women's
Educational Association who had no real connections with biology (Whitman,
Naples, 2 September 1897). The new Board reflected greater national representation
and greater biological commitment.
Yet financial troubles continued despite the greater ideological support from the
Trustees. In 1898, Whitman wrote to his friend and supporter Edwin Grant Conklin
that "I am having many sleepless hours over the lack of funds to pay bills this year.
I have about resolved to take from my own poor pocket to settle the $600 unsettled
salaries. I have reason to hesitate to do this, for I do not see the way out of it. Were
it not for the many good hearts behind me, I should feel decidedly blue" (Whitman
to Conklin, 1 November 1898). Indeed, a friend reported that Whitman had suffered
very deeply from the troubles since the MBL was "the very apple of his eye"
(Whitman, Chicago, 20 May 1898).
Whitman articulated ever more strongly that the United States needed a
biological laboratory and that it should be a permanent station with a full
endowment. Such a station must have national cooperation and must therefore
remain financially and ideologically independent of any one group. Permanence,
national support, cooperation, and independence — these became recurrent themes
for Whitman (Whitman, Annual Report, 1890, pp. 22-23; Annual Report, 1892,
pp. 29-36; 1893; 1901; to Morgan or Wilson, 1902). Without money, those ideals
remained out of reach. At one point, however, the financial goal seemed nearly
attainable.
In 1900 came a concerted effort to achieve wider national support from colleges
to underwrite at least the cost of operations. Following the Naples model, the MBL
did not try, in the early years, to extract more money from the individual researchers
but appealed instead to institutions for more permanent support. Some, such as
Alexander Agassiz, who had supported Naples and other efforts felt they had
"thrown away enough money on seaside Laboratories" and balked at donating
money to yet another attempt to build an American laboratory (Agassiz, 30 May
1888). Other colleges and institutions did continue to provide support. Finally in
1901 and 1902 two major offers came to relieve the Trustees of the bulk of their
financial problems. The first came from four wealthy businessmen and was presented
through President Harper of the University of Chicago. Whitman strongly supported
their proposal and felt that it would secure the laboratory's financial independence
and make realistic the establishment of a permanent research station (Whitman to
Conklin, 1901 and 1902). Yet, though only two of the four men lived in Chicago,
the Trustees felt that accepting the offer would give too much power to one
university and that the lab would therefore lose the very independence and national
character it sought. Whitman felt unsupported in the ensuing sometimes bitter
EARLY STRUGGLES 195
struggles, and he lamented to Conklin that though he felt confident that things
would work out, presumably in favor of the plan, "I often regret that there has been
such a strong sectional feeling in the East. It is not very pleasant to have ones
motives impugned, and I confess, at times, to have found the suspicion against
Chicago University and its men almost beyond endurance" (Whitman to Conklin,
2 March 1902). The fate of the Chicago plan remained unclear until a second offer
came shortly thereafter leading to the rejection of the first proposal as such.
The second offer came from the Carnegie Institution and went through numerous
revisions. The group most strongly supporting the Carnegie proposal included
Wilson, who saw this as the chance to secure financial stability and to make over
the MBL into a research lab more like his old ideal at Naples (Cattell, 1902, pp.
529-533; Lillie, 1944, p. 57; Whitman, MBL-Lillie, 8 and 13 October 1902). Wilson
came into direct conflict with Whitman on this issue. It became clear to Whitman
that while some of the Trustees, such as Conklin, remained firmly behind him,
most had never really fully accepted his ideas for the lab. As Frank Lillie recorded
later in his history. Whitman found it disillusioning to realize that there were "few
who held with anything like equal intensity his belief that the ideals of organization
for which he had fought were of value far superior to any degree of financial
security"' (Lillie, 1944, p. 60). Whitman feared that the Carnegie people would
absorb the MBL as just another one of their own departments. He feared the
proposed move to solely research and the loss of instruction which Wilson
applauded. He suggested somewhat facetiously to Conklin that "Perhaps we had
better abandon every class at Woods" Holl, and all compensation for services, and
revert to the old-time ideal of a pure research station. I feel half inclined to do this,
and so let everyone see by actual experience the result" (Whitman to Conklin, 7
January 1904). Obviously, he did not expect happy results.
Eventually, after much discussion and revision, a plan was developed by which
the Carnegie Foundation supported the MBL for three years with $10,000 per year,
matched by a gift from three of the Trustees — including some of the support
offered in the first Chicago proposal — but the MBL Trustees and Corporation
retained control of the lab. As an admirer put it later. Whitman had held firm for
independence.
Reportedly has Woods Hole declined riches when by its acceptance there is
only the remotest possibility of interference with this indispensible independence.
All of the proffers fell upon deaf ears. The nightingale may be captured, but it
can never be made to breed by the huntsman nor be made to sing in confinement.
It must live in its own peculiar habitat, and this is found for scientists in Woods
Hole. In this country we are searching for heroes in productive science, but "the
birds that may sing may seem to avoid the golden cage" [The Resignation, 1908,
p. 382].
Nonetheless, Whitman felt defeated and exhausted and withdrew from the MBL.
His assistant, Frank Lillie, took over the directorship (MBL Annual Report, 1908,
pp. 8-13).
Whitman looked upon the struggles of 1902 as growing pains of sorts, in which
the impatience of some had led to near disaster. As he put it, the MBL had begun
like an organism, with only seventeen "ids in its protoplasmic body — two instructors,
eight students, and seven investigators (all beginners). The two instructors could be
likened, with no great stretch of the imagination, to two polar corpuscles, signifying
little more than that the germ was a fertile one, and prepared to begin its preordained
course of development."' The original incorporators. Whitman said, served as
196 J. MAIENSCHEIN
sponsors and left the group of ids to follow its own course of development. The
germ thus underwent various cleavages and took shape. Founded on the principles
of cooperation and independence, it sought to embrace all of biology. It even grew
and advanced to the tadpole stage. Whitman reported. But some members wanted
to shed their tails and become frogs, and to undergo that change immediately. They
forgot the golden motto of development, proceed slowly. Fortunately, the supporters
made it possible for the tadpoles to advance without loss of their heads as well as
their tails. But do not forget the lesson. Whitman urged, for "There is a work before
you of far greater magnitude and importance than perhaps any of us can now
realize, waiting only for the energy and means to grapple with it. In everything that
stands for the upbuilding of this laboratory, let us have cooperation with soul and
zeal to make it effective and triumphant" (Whitman, address, 11 August 1903).
Clearly, Whitman did not fully agree with Wilson that the success of the Naples
Station lay "simply" with money.
Permanence, national support, cooperation, and independence have been achieved
at the MBL to a remarkable extent. Yet as Whitman stressed, both money and a
great deal of dedicated work by a large number of people remain necessary to
maintain such enduring marine laboratories as the MBL and the Naples Station.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank Ruth Davis at the MBL, Ann Blum at the Museum of
Comparative Zoology, Christiane Groeben at Naples, and the archivists at the Johns
Hopkins University Archives and the University of Chicago for their assistance. All
archival material quoted with permission.
LITERATURE CITED
AGASSIZ, ALEXANDER. Letter, 30 May 1888, Agassiz Papers. Museum of Comparative Zoology Archives,
Harvard University.
CLAPP, CORNELIA. 1927. Some recollections of the first summer at Woods Hole. 1888. Collecting Net
2(4): 3, 10.
CLARKE, GARDINER, AND MCMURRICH. 1897. Reply. Science 6: 475-476.
LILLIE, FRANK. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press,
Chicago.
MBL Annual Reports.
MBL Minutes of the Trustees, MBL Archives.
MBL Board of Trustees. 1897. A statement concerning the Marine Biological Laboratory. Science (1897):
529-534.
The resignation of Prof. Whitman as Director of the Marine Biological Laboratory at Woods Hole, Mass.
Anal. Rec. (1908) 2: 380-382.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1890, 1892. Report of the Director. Annual Reports.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1891. Specialization and organization. Biological Lectures. 1890: 1-26.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1893. A Marine Biological Observatory. Pop. Sci. Mo. 42: 459-571.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1893. General physiology and its relation to morphology. Am. Nat. 27: 802-
807.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1894. The work and the aims of the Marine Biological Laboratory. Biological
Lectures 1893: 235-242.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 1898. Some of the functions and features of a biological station. Science 7:
37-44.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. Letters to Conklin, Morgan, Wilson, Miss Helen Culver, Whitman Papers.
MBL Archives.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. Letters to Lillie, Lillie Papers. MBL Archives.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. 20 May 1898. Whitman Papers, University of Chicago Archives.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. Address to the Corporation, 1901. Whitman Papers. MBL Archives.
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS. Address to the Corporation, 1903. Whitman Papers. MBL Archives.
WHITMAN, from Dohrn, 2 September 1897. Whitman Papers. MBL Archives. Original in Naples
Zoological Station archives and provided for MBL by Christiane Groeben.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 197-199. (June, 1985)
THE WOODS HOLE LABORATORY SITE:
HISTORY AND FUTURE ECOLOGY
W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole. Massachusetts, 02543, and Department of Biology,
Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York, 13210
ABSTRACT
The Woods Hole site of the Marine Biological Laboratory is adjacent to that
chosen for work of the U. S. Fish Commission by Spencer F. Baird in 1871. In
most ecological respects, it remains an excellent locus for marine research, with
strong tidal currents ensuring a supply of pure sea water and with a reasonably
diverse fauna and flora. Despite local environmental risks, there are grounds for
cautious optimism that both Woods Hole and Naples (Ischia laboratory) can
continue to provide opportunities for all kinds of biological research utilizing healthy
marine organisms.
INTRODUCTION AND HISTORY
The site of the Marine Biological Laboratory at Woods Hole is, in most
ecological respects, a good one well-buffered by flowing sea water. In particular, it
is excellently placed in relation both to the major oceanic circulation (Lillie, 1944)
and to local tidal currents. It was chosen by Spencer F. Baird (possibly as early as
1863) as a site for work of the U. S. Fish Commission, and he began studies there
in 1871 and 1875 (Conklin, 1944). The fisheries laboratory was built in 1885, and
the adjacent MBL in 1888. On a narrow promontory between Buzzards Bay and
Vineyard Sound, placed at an angle of the larger peninsula of Cape Cod, there are
no large rivers near by, and Baird noted the purity of the local sea water, free from
sediment or sewage contamination (Conklin, 1944).
FAUNAL ASPECTS
The waters off Cape Cod are affected by the Labrador Current to the north and
the Gulf Stream to the south, and there are corresponding differences in at least
25% of the benthic fauna and rather more of the macrophytic algae. Thus we have
both a cold-water Strongylocentrotus and a warm- water Arbacia available, providing
ripe eggs in spring and in summer, respectively. In one respect, the intertidal and
sublittoral faunas are somewhat impoverished. Since Cape Cod is entirely made up
of glacial moraine there are no extensive rock outcrops, and so we lack Octopus,
rock-boring bivalves, and certain species of hydroids, serpulids, barnacles, and
opisthobranchs (including most species both of the beautiful nudibranchs and of
the larger aplysiomorphs used in neural systems investigations). Parenthetically, it
is clear that the different cephalopods available at the Stazione Zoologica (Octopus)
and at the MBL (Loligo) led to markedly different emphases in neurobiological
research over the last 45 years. The neural basis for capacity to learn or be trained,
including controls utilizing split-brain techniques, were investigated at Naples, while
the biophysics of neural membranes and chemical properties of the giant axon were
investigated at Woods Hole.
197
198 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
Periodically, around Cape Cod, local grounds for squid, sea urchins, and certain
fish and bivalves have been over-collected, but no faunal extinction can be attributed
to MBL collectors. Chaetopterus may be the one locally collector-endangered genus
at present (Valois, 1984). Recently, there has been some competition from commercial
fishermen for squid, Spisula, and a few other forms. Lack of detailed knowledge of
natural population dynamics (even demography) for these species makes it difficult
to predict the effects of such sustained commercial cropping. Over the last century,
the most extensive ecological changes in the area were the disease-caused decline of
eelgrass (Zostera) beds between 1930 and 1960, and their recovery during the last
20 years. It seems probable that both a fungus, Ophiobolus halimus, and a slime-
mold, Labyrinthula macrocystis, were important in this epidemic on both sides of
the North Atlantic, although higher water temperatures may also have been involved.
An excellent summary of the literature along with substantive data from Danish
waters is provided by Rasmussen (1973). At Woods Hole as elsewhere, associated
communities of invertebrates, including Cumingia (Russell-Hunter and Tashiro,
1985), became very rare for three decades and then required a further 20 years to
approach their pre-1930 levels of abundance. No human pollution or other
environmental modification has ever caused such widespread and long-lasting
ecological changes.
WATER QUALITY
Tidal currents run through the Woods Hole passage (between the Cape mainland
and the Elizabeth Islands) reaching average maximum velocities four times daily,
westwards of 3.6 knots and eastwards of 4.5 knots (White, 1984), and running at
<0.8 knots for only 2.8 hours in each day [1 knot = 1.853 km/h]. Practicable
extensions of the present sea water intake system of MBL into this tidal flow could
protect pure sea water supply for the foreseeable future. A similar continuous supply
of unpolluted sea water is ensured at the ecological laboratory (Bacci, 1969) of the
Stazione Zoologica at Punta San Pietro on Ischia. Despite increasing residential
building on Cape Cod, sewage contamination of MBL sea water is not a problem
and the 1984-1986 sewer development for the Falmouth area further reduces the
risk. In the near future, a more likely difficulty at Woods Hole could be ensuring
an adequate supply of unpolluted fresh water (as has long been the case on Ischia).
Historically, both Woods Hole and Naples have been good sites for research on
healthy marine organisms. The majority of the invertebrate species surveyed in
1871 by Spencer Baird's associate A. E. Verrill in the Vineyard Sound area are still
there today. Similarly, Tomas (1984) could state that the flora and fauna of the
sublittoral around Ischia were relatively unchanged from the time of Anton Dohrn.
These historical continuities in natural populations provide grounds for cautious
optimism regarding the future ecology of both areas. Despite this, we must increase
our knowledge of natural life-cycles, demography, and ecology in the species we
collect, and be prepared (for example, in the proposed Marine Resources Center at
MBL) to move toward mariculture where appropriate. For the Cape Cod area, the
only long-term environmental risk lies in the exploration for, and possible devel-
opment of, offshore oil deposits on Georges Bank, but Woods Hole is somewhat
protected by position and prevailing winds. Oil spills from vessels, even small ones,
could affect many fragile habitats such as high salt marshes, but supertankers do
not use Vineyard Sound or Buzzards Bay. Both cautious optimism for the future,
and a sense of gratitude to Spencer F. Baird, Alpheus Hyatt, C. O. Whitman, and
the others for picking the site, seem appropriate at this time.
SITE ECOLOGY, WOODS HOLE 199
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Along with my main charge to survey the history of invertebrate teaching at
Woods Hole, Paul R. Gross and Seymour S. Cohen suggested that I prepare for
discussion at the Ischia symposium this brief statement on the ecological setting
and future of the MBL. I am grateful both to them and to Carmelo R. Tomas, my
fellow-discussant from the Stazione Zoologica. Other acknowledgments are set out
in my main paper (p. 88 of this issue).
LITERATURE CITED
BACCI, G. 1 969. A future for ecological research at the Zoological Station of Naples. Puhhl. Staz. Zool.
Napoli 31: 7-15.
CONKLIN, E. G. 1944. III. The United States Bureau of Fisheries. Pp. 24-26 in Lillie (1944).
LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
284 pp.
RASMUSSEN, E. 1973. Systematics and ecology of the Isefjord marine fauna (Denmark) with a survey of
the eelgrass (Zostera) vegetation and its communities. Ophelia 11: 1-495.
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D. AND J. S. TASHIRO. 1985. Life-habits and infaunal posture of Cumingia
tellinoides (TELLINACEA, Semelidae): an example of evolutionary parallelism. Veliger 27: 253-
260.
TOMAS, C. R. 1984. Reply during discussion. Ischia Symposium, 8-12 October 1984.
VALOIS, J. J. 1984. Personal communication to author. Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole,
August, 1984.
WHITE, R. E. 1984. Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book, 1984. Robert Eldridge White, Publisher, Boston.
272 pp.
Reference: Bin/. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 200-202. (June, 1985)
FROM WOODS HOLE TO THE WORLD:
THE BIOLOGICAL BULLETIN
W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, Massachusetts, 02543, and Department of Biology,
Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York. 13210
ABSTRACT
The Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, publishes The Biological
Bulletin: a general research journal with an international circulation. It has been
published continuously since 1902 (although its predecessors date from 1897), and
there have been only eight editors. Characterized by its regularity of publication,
diversity of contents, and editorial independence, it has not been a "house journal"
for at least 55 years. Changes in its editorial policies have historically been minor.
The MBL library has continued to benefit from approximately 650 serials received
as "free" exchanges for the journal. For future historical research, an extensive
archive of editorial correspondence will be provided.
INTRODUCTION
The journal, The Biological Bulletin, is a little younger than the laboratory at
Woods Hole, but both are owned by the corporate membership of the Marine
Biological Laboratory. To many members, unable to work at the laboratory, the
conservatively printed grey cover contains the only tangible return for their
continuing membership dues. Since 1902, with only minor changes of format but
with a great diversity of contents, two volumes or six issues per year have appeared
regularly. This continuity as a nonspecialist research journal has sustained library
subscriptions both domestic and foreign, and also journal exchanges with learned
societies and institutions throughout the world. Two examples of our cosmopolitan
circulation are revealed by our inclusion in the citation and abstracting services run
by the Polish Academy of Sciences in Warsaw, and the Indian Agricultural Research
Council in New Delhi, both based on a precirculated contents proof for each issue.
The age of the journal and its regularity of publication contribute to its worldwide
circulation.
HISTORY
The general history of the MBL by Lillie (1944) is surprisingly unspecific about
the journal, but Redfield (1941) provides an excellent review of its early days. Two
volumes per year have been published continuously for 82 years (since the
resumption of publication with volume 3 in Fall, 1902); although its predecessors
date from 1897. Edited by the Director (C. O. Whitman) and members of the staff,
two volumes of the Zoological Bulletin were published in 1897 and 1898, and the
first two volumes of its successor The Biological Bulletin in 1900 and early 1901.
Frank R. Lillie became Managing Editor with volume 3 in Fall 1902, and his
editorial staff was listed as Conklin, Loeb, Morgan, Wheeler, Whitman, and Wilson.
Lillie remained editor until 1927, and was succeeded in turn by: Carl R. Moore
(1927-1930), Alfred C. Redfield (1930-1942), H. Burr Steinbach (1942-1950),
200
BIOLOGICAL BULLETIN HISTORY 201
Donald P. Costello (1951-1968), W. D. Russell-Hunter (1968-1980), and Charles
B. Metz (1980- ). There have been no supplementary publications, and the
history of publication of a single general journal from the MBL obviously differs
from that of journal publishing at the Stazione Zoologica.
At Naples, three different serials were begun in 1879-80: an abstracting annual,
a house journal, and a series of systematic monographs. Publication of the
Zoologischer Jahresbericht helped the library of the Stazione, which received all the
literature sent in for review. The journal publishing in-house work was the
Mittheilungen aus der Zoologischen Station zu Neapel continued after 1916 as
Pubblicazioni delta Stazione Zoologica di Napoli, which has been split into two
since 1979; Marine Ecology (Pubbl. Staz. Zool. Napoli I) and History and Philosophy
of the Life Sciences (Pubbl. Staz. Zool. Napoli II). The magnificent monographic
series, Fauna und Flora des Golfes von Neapel, has no Woods Hole equivalent.
SCOPE AND POLICY
The Biological Bulletin has always been a general rather than a specialist journal,
publishing original research reports of intermediate length. It was first intended to
be a companion journal to the Journal of Morphology providing for relatively rapid
publication of snorter papers with simpler illustrations. From 1912 to 1929, it
steadily became less of a "house journal." Since 1930, its editorial policies and
reviewing procedures have been deliberately kept separate from both the adminis-
tration and the elected trustees of MBL. Up to 1980, the managing editor was
unpaid, and there was usually a single full-time editorial assistant (and some part-
time help managing subscriptions). Home institutions of editors tolerated the
demands (both in space and time) generated by their work as midwives for the
scholarship of others.
To librarians and exchanging institutions, it remained associated with that select
group of general journals of certain national academies and royal societies, charac-
terized by Vannevar Bush as of greatest significance in the "invisible university" of
world science. Frequently, new authors were surprised by contacts generated through
its readership in Eastern Europe and in Asia. The MBL library has always benefitted
from the 650 or so serials generated as "free" exchanges, and continuity both of
these and of regular subscriptions has been influenced by regularity of publication
and diversity of contents. Maintaining this diversity was the declared strategy of five
of the editors and, in retrospect, changes in editorial policy were relatively trivial.
A few good systematic papers were published in the periods 1930-1942 and 1968-
1980, while taxonomy and systematics were deliberately excluded in 1912-1930
and in 1951-1968. Similarly, review papers were excluded from 1925-1980 although
some were published before 1925 and after 1980. Abstracts of each summer's
general meetings at MBL have been published for over 50 years, but the regular
papers have more widespread origins. In the period 1950-1980, 19% of the papers
published reported work done wholly or partly at MBL, 58% reported research
conducted elsewhere in the U. S., and 23% had other international origins.
ARCHIVES
For future historians, an extensive archive will be provided by the files of
completed editorial correspondence (including those for rejected papers) which have
been preserved nearly completely from 1945, and partially from 1930. We have
proposed that these files remain in their normal restricted use for reference in the
202 W. D. RUSSELL-HUNTER
editorial office for 6 years, and then be "closed" for a further 20 years, before
becoming available for approved historical research.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Along with my main charge to survey the history of invertebrate teaching at
Woods Hole, Seymour S. Cohen suggested I prepare a brief historical statement on
The Biological Bulletin for discussion at the Ischia symposium. I am grateful to
him. Other acknowledgments are set out in my main paper (p. 88 of this issue).
LITERATURE CITED
LILLIE, F. R. 1944. The Woods Hole Marine Biological Laboratory. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
284 pp.
REDFIELD, A. C. 1941. The report of the managing editor of the Biological Bulletin. Biol. Bull. 81:
12-17.
Reference: Biol. Bull. 168 (suppl.): 203-204. (June, 1985)
WHAT LABORATORIES FOR WHAT SCIENCE?
ANTONIO MIRALTO
Stazione Zoologica. I'illa Comunale, 1-80121, Naples. Italy
Having examined the roles that the Zoological Station and the Marine Biological
Laboratory have played in shaping ideas in biology since the turn of the century, it
now seems appropriate to address the question of the future of marine biological
laboratories, and, in fact, of biological research institutes in general. However, we
should first determine the kind of science we want for the future. I believe that
science should fit within a broad, non-restrictive, non-deterministic cultural frame-
work. Indeed, science should become the focal point of a process of cultural renewal;
a point of reference for future generations; and a driving force in all fields, scientific
and non.
From many views, scientists of the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries had more
freedom than present-day scientists. Today researchers are no longer restricted by
Church dogma, however governments, financial trusts, and military and economic
demands impose more sophisticated and subtle pressures, which are totally unrelated
to the needs of humanity.
This is not a plea to turn back the clock, but we must study the past to
understand where we came from and how important achievements evolved to
discover the roots that may nourish our future. The past can also help us to avoid
repeating mistakes and to outline a future in which we are aware of the difficulties
and responsibilities it entails.
There is obviously no easy remedy for all the problems that will arise. However,
any new solutions or ideas will probably come from institutions that promote the
growth of knowledge, that is, our schools and universities.
In the past, universities provided a broad, philosophical, humanistic, and
scientific education, and were not as specialized as today. Specialization on the
whole is acceptable, but it should not confine a person to a narrow corridor. New
generations should be educated to be creative in solving the problems that will
confront them. New researchers should be trained to have a dialectical attitude.
After all, nature itself is dialectical.
Schools and universities must return to being forums where ideas are questioned
and discussed, and they must produce people capable of using the most important
tools available to mankind: culture and knowledge. I believe in a science that does
not bind its fate to technology, but to the growth of knowledge.
After having presented an idea of what I believe is the cultural framework within
which research should operate, I shall now turn to the organization of scientific
institutes.
First of all, laboratories should not become isolated and closed structures; this
would be detrimental to the quality of research and to researchers. This means
encouraging international exchange between research laboratories and other cultural
institutions.
I envisage research institutes as helping to define the cultural and material
requirements necessary to improve the quality of life. Laboratories should not be
limited to research but should stimulate the discussion of scientific and cultural
topics in general. It is no exaggeration to say that many researchers have excellent
203
204 A. MIRALTO
technical know-how, but lack a solid cultural background. Hence, the importance
of non-specialized cultural activities such as symposia, workshops, and courses. By
expanding the researcher's frontiers of knowledge, the quality of his research will
improve.
Another aspect to be considered is the organization of research laboratories. To
be efficient, an organization requires adequate funds and personnel, and well-defined
programs. Furthermore, research groups consisting of scientists with different
working experience should be encouraged so that scientific problems can be
approached as impartially as possible. Scientists must also be morally, ethically, and
financially stimulated.
We should also favor the development of science world-wide to counterbalance
the tendency to reduce personnel. This brings me to funding for science. At present,
financial backing is insufficient; scientists should demand that government funds
now invested in armaments aimed at destroying life be employed for research aimed
at improving the quality of life.
Lastly, research institutes should be known for their eagerness to learn, their
creativity, and their ability to exploit all available intellectual energy. All this in
turn should be directed towards meeting the various needs of humanity.
My comments so far concern not only the better functioning of research
laboratories, but also offer guidelines aimed at improving the quality of life. It is
my hope that science will contribute to arresting the advance of what I consider the
barbaric tendency of focusing on material wealth and consumer items, rather than
on the cultural and moral problems of modern man.
As in the past, science can determine many aspects of the future of humanity.
Men of science must look beyond the limits of their own research activities and, by
their culture and enlightenment, become intellectual leaders.
INDEX
"New" embryology at the Zoological Station and
at the Marine Biological Laboratory, The, 35
AGASSIZ, Louis, 26, 88
Aggassiz, Hyatt, Whitman, and the birth of the
Marine Biological Laboratory, 26
ALEXANDROWICZ, J. C, 137
ALLEN, GARLAND E., Heredity under an embryo-
logical paradigm: the case of genetics and
embryology, 107
American biologists at Naples, 187
Anton Dohrn — the statesman of Darwinism, 4
VON APATHY, STEPHAN, 137
Archives, MBL, 200
B
BAIRD, SPENCER F., 26, 197
BENNETT, M. V. L., Nicked by Occam's razor:
unitarianism in the investigation of synaptic
transmission, 159
BETHE, ALBRECHT, 137
Biochemistry, Naples, 122
Biological Bulletin, The, history, 200
Birth of the MBL, 26
BODANSKY, JOEL N., see Nathan Reingold, 44
Carnegie Department of Marine Biology, Tortugas,
172
Carnegie Institution of Washington and marine
biology: Naples. Woods Hole, and Tortugas,
172
Carnegie and Naples, 172
Carnegie and Tortugas, 172
Carnegie and Woods Hole, 172
Carnegie Institution, 172, 192
Cell biology and heredity, 99
Cell interactions: the roots of a century of research,
80
Cell lineage, 26, 35, 62
Cell structure, 127
Cephalopods and neuroscience, 153
Chemical transmission, 159
CLAPP, CORNELIA, 26, 88, 172, 192
COHEN, SEYMOUR S., Some struggles of Jacques
Loeb, Albert Mathews, and Ernest Just at the
Marine Biological Laboratory, 127
Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, management, ori-
gin, and organization of, 183
Colloid chemistry, 127
Comparative physiology and biochemistry at the
Zoological Station of Naples, 122
CONK.LIN, EDWARD GRANT, 26, 62, 80, 107, 172,
187, 192, 200
CURTIS, WINTERTON C., 88
D
Darwinism, 35, 62
DAVENPORT, CHARLES B.. 172, 183
DOHRN, ANTON, 1, 4, 35, 122, 137, 172, 187, 197
DREW, GILMAN A., 88
DRIESCH, HANS, 26, 35, 107, 187
Drosophila, 99, 107, 127
E
Early struggles at the Marine Biological Laboratory
over mission and money, 192
Early studies of cell interactions, 80
EBERT, JAMES D.. Carnegie Institution of Washing-
ton and marine biology: Naples, Woods Hole,
and Tortugas, 172
EBERT, JAMES D., Cell interactions: the roots of a
century of research, 80
EBERT. JAMES D., Evolving institutional patterns
for excellence: a brief comparison of the or-
ganization and management of the Cold Spring
Harbor Laboratory and the Marine Biological
Laboratory, 183
ECCLES, J. C., 159
Ecology
at Naples, 168
at the MBL, 197
Eelgrass disease, 197
Electrical transmission, 159
Embryology, 35, 80, 99, 107, 127
Embryology at Naples and the MBL, 35
Embryonic development, 62
Ephase, 159
Epigenesis, 26, 35, 62
Evolutionary century at Woods Hole: instruction
in invertebrate zoology. An, 88
Evolving institutional patterns for excellence: a
brief comparison of the organization and man-
agement of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory
and the Marine Biological Laboratory, 183
Eyes, 153
FANTINI, BERNARDINO, The sea urchin and the
fruit fly: cell biology and heredity 1900-1910,
99
First impressions: American biologists at Naples,
187
FLOREY, ERNST, The Zoological Station at Naples
and the neuron: personalities and encounters
in a unique institution, 137
From Woods Hole to the world: The Biological
Bulletin, 200
Fruit fly, see Drosophila
Future ecology, MBL site, 197
205
206
INDEX TO VOLUME 168 (SUPPLEMENT)
Ganglion cell, 1 37
Genetics and embryology, 107
Germany, research funding, 44
GHIRETTI, FRANCESCO, Comparative physiology
and biochemistry at the Zoological Station of
Naples, 122
Giant axons, 137
Giant fibers. 153
GRANT, CHARLES, 4
GROEBEN, CHRISTIANE, Anton Dohrn — the states-
man of Darwinism, 4
GROEBEN, CHRISTIANE, see Alberto Monroy, 35
GROSS, PAUL R., 1
GROSS, PAUL R., Laying the ghost: embryonic
development, in plain words, 62
GRUDFEST, H., 159
H
HAECKEL, ERNST HEINRICH, 35, 62, 107, 137
Heredity, 99
Heredity under an embryological paradigm: the
case of genetics and embryology, 107
History of instruction, MBL, 88
History, MBL site, 197
History, botany, 168
HYATT, ALPHEUS, 26, 183, 192, 197
Instruction, history at MBL, 88
Interactions, cell, 80
Interactions, cell surface, 80
Interactions, inductive, 80
Invertebrate instruction at Woods Hole, 88
Biological Laboratory over mission and money,
192
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE, First impressions: American
biologists at Naples, 187
Marine Biological Laboratory, 1, 26, 62, 80, 88,
107, 127, 172, 183, 187, 192, 197, 200, 203
Marine Biological Laboratory, organization and
management of, 183
Marine botany and ecology at Stazione Zoologica,
168
MATHEWS, ALBERT P., 127
MAYER (Mayor), ALFRED G., 172
Mechanistic materialism, 107
Memory, 153
Mendelism, 99, 107
MIRALTO, ANTONIO, What laboratories for what
science? 203
MONROY, ALBERTO, AND CHRISTIANE GROEBEN,
The "new" embryology at the Zoological Sta-
tion and at the Marine Biological Laboratory,
35
MORGAN, THOMAS HUNT, 26, 62, 99, 107, 127,
137, 187, 200
Morphology, 26, 35
N
NACHMANSOHN, O., 159
NANSEN, FRIDTJOF, 137
Nerve fiber, 137
Neurofibrils, 137
Neuron, 137
Neurosecretion, 137
Nicked by Occam's razor: unitarianism in the in-
vestigation of synaptic transmission, 159
O
Occam's razor, 62, 159
JONES, JOHN H., 183
JUST, ERNEST EVERETT, 99, 127
Laying the ghost: embryonic development, in plain
words, 62
Library, MBL, 200
LILLIE, FRANK, 26, 62, 80, 88, 107, 127, 183, 192,
200
LOEB, JACQUES, 62, 107, 127
LOEWI, O., 159
M
MBL and Cold Spring Harbor compared, 183
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE, Agassiz, Hyatt, Whitman,
and the birth of the Marine Biological Labo-
ratory, 26
MAIENSCHEIN, JANE, Early struggles at the Marine
Penikese Island, 26
Photoreceptors, extraocular, 153
Physiology, 122, 127
Preformationism, 26, 35, 62
Proteins, 127
Publications
MBL, 200
Naples, 200
R
Racism, 127
REDFIELD, A. C., 200
REINGOLD, NATHAN, AND JOEL N. BODANSKY,
The sciences, 1850-1900, a north Atlantic
perspective, 44
Research funding, USA, United Kingdom, and
Germany, 44
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D., An evolutionary century
INDEX TO VOLUME 168 (SUPPLEMENT)
207
at Woods Hole: instruction in invertebrate
zoology, 88
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D., From Woods Hole to
the world: The Biological Bulletin. 200
RUSSELL-HUNTER, W. D., The Woods Hole Lab-
oratory site: history and future ecology, 197
u
USA, research funding, 44
Unitarianism, 159
United Kingdom, research funding, 44
United States Fish Commission, 26, 187, 192, 197
SCHARER, ERNST, 137
Science, problems relating to, 203
Science, public support, 44
Science, role of, 203
Sciences, 1850-1900, a north Atlantic perspective.
The, 44
Sea urchin and the fruit fly: cell biology and
heredity 1900-1910, The, 99
Some struggles of Jacques Loeb, Albert Mathews.
and Ernest Just at the Marine Biological Lab-
oratory, 127
Statocysts, 153
Stazione Zoologica of Naples, 1, 4, 62, 107, 122,
137, 168, 172. 187. 192, 197
Stretch receptor neurons, 137
Synapse, 159
TOMAS, CARMELO R., Marine botany and ecology
at Stazione Zoologica, 168
W
What laboratories for what science? 203
WHITMAN, CHARLES OTIS, 26, 35, 88, 127, 172,
187, 192, 197, 200, 203
WILSON, EDMUND BEECHER, 26, 35, 62, 99, 127,
137, 172, 187, 192, 200
Women's Education Association, 26, 192
Woods Hole Laboratory site: history and future
ecology. The, 197
YOUNG, J. Z., 137
YOUNG, J. Z., Cephalopods and neuroscience, 153
Zoological Station at Naples and the neuron: per-
sonalities and encounters in a unique institu-
tion, !37
Zoology, invertebrate at MBL, 88
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