Joshua Lederberg, 1925–2008: A Tribute

Abstract

FOR the decade that he was at the University of Wisconsin, Joshua was my closest friend, and I his. Most of this time we had adjoining offices and conversed almost every day, often several times. He had the finest intellect of anyone with whom I have been closely associated. He seemed to know everything, and what he did not know, he quickly found out. Time and again, whatever the subject, he knew more than anyone else in the room. Furthermore, he remembered what he had learned. I once showed him how to derive the Kosambi gene-mapping function. One evening in my office, a year or more later, he dropped in for a casual visit, as he often did. I had forgotten how the derivation went, so he immediately straightened me out. This suggested a strategy: tell him something and have him remember it for me. I did not actually exploit this, but it happened nevertheless. Figure 1 Joshua Lederberg (right) and Sewall Wright (left). I quickly got caught up in Josh's multiple activities. Almost every week there was something new in his lab (transduction, lambda, the F plasmid, Hfr) and occasionally a beautiful new technique (replica plating). But his interests were not restricted to genetics. He was an early leader in promoting a selective, rather than instructive, theory of antibody specificity. He had an early concern for the possibility of life on the moon and other planets and was the most important advocate for sterilizing procedures to avoid contamination either way. (My favorite title among his articles on this subject was “Moondust.”) He was a pioneer in putting computers to work on biological and chemical problems. From daily conversations, I absorbed much of this. My own horizons were greatly broadened. And this was almost effortless and intensely satisfying. My circle of acquaintances was similarly broadened by the distinguished parade that came to get his advice, for example, the unforgettable duo of Leo Szilard and Aaron Novick. I reciprocated by introducing Josh to Carl Sagan, who later became his colleague. Furthermore, Josh did not neglect administrative problems. He founded the Medical Genetics Department at Wisconsin, with the then-novel idea that the subject should include not only the genetics of humans but also those of our parasites. Josh was 10 years younger than I, yet we were contemporaries in thoughts and ideas. Ours was not a student–teacher relationship at all. It was an interaction between enthusiastic, co-interested equals. Yet at the end of any of our many talks, I realized that the information transfer had been 90% one way. It is not that we spent much time together; I had a full agenda of teaching, research, graduate students, and editing. But his influence was grossly disproportionate to the actual time spent. Josh's early days at Wisconsin were not entirely smooth. Some were intimidated by his incredible knowledge. His work was often not appreciated in the College of Agriculture, and even by some in the Genetics Department. R. A. Brink deserves great credit for hiring him, despite strong opposition. Those who opposed him were not sure that a smart city boy working on mating habits of bacteria had much to do with farm income. Many regarded his path-breaking discovery as simply finding something cute that bacteria did, not realizing that this provided a most promising lead toward getting at the mystery of the gene. Happily, in a few years it became apparent to all that Lederberg was outstanding and that Wisconsin had a wonderful asset. The Nobel Prize was no surprise. Having learned in advance, he had invited me to his house, and when the announcement came we quietly celebrated together. After leaving Wisconsin, his interests broadened still further. He became interested in artificial intelligence. I especially admired his remarkable program, DENDRAL; as one who was uncomfortable with the ambiguities of existing nomenclature of organic compounds, I welcomed this. At the same time he became increasingly a world citizen. He wrote a weekly syndicated newspaper column; he was a member of President Eisenhower's Science Advisory Committee, altogether serving as confidential and trusted advisor to nine White House administrations; and he was President of Rockefeller University from 1978 to 1990. After retirement, his consulting continued at the same if not a faster pace. He continued as an idea man for space exploration, germ warfare, and possible epidemics. After he left Wisconsin we saw each other only occasionally and our phone conversations and e-mail messages were terse. Yet we continued to feel close and to value our friendship. I still treasure memories of those heady days in Wisconsin. I shall miss him, and so will the world.