Ending Plague

by Francis W. Ruscetti

  Gallo had no idea how little other investigators at the NCI thought of him. Gallo would constantly discredit any information which contradicted his pre-conceived ideas or the possibility he was not the center of the scientific universe. It took me a while to realize Gallo actually believed his own lies, even though he kept changing his story. I was amazed at how his mind could so consistently rewrite reality and still believe the new lies he told. Thus, in Gallo’s mind he was the better tennis player, all the good ideas did come from him, and he should have been the first author on the HTLV-1 paper, not Bernie Poiesz.

  It’s been widely reported that I had many verbal battles with Gallo. This is true, but those came after I left his lab, and after he continually tried to destroy my ability to work. I never publicly contradicted him while working for him because I had seen senior leaders disappear if they crossed him.

  Maybe I should have, but I’ll leave that decision to others.

  Gallo would often come back from reviewing grants for a scientific society and at a staff meeting, pass out their grants for us to read. I was horrified by this amoral behavior. Gallo was encouraging us to steal these ideas from scientists who’d submitted their research proposals with the expectation they’d be kept confidential and that their leaders were ethical.

  I always replied, “Thanks, Bob, but I’ve got so many of my own ideas to pursue that I don’t think I’ll be able to get around to any others.”

  I thought it was my job to do good science for the public, despite the negative behaviors of my boss. I believed the good which I could do would offset the negative parts of Gallo’s personality and behavior.

  Boy, I was wrong.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Political Unemployment and Career Threats

  The complex pattern of the misallocation of credit for scientific works can be described as the “Matthew” effect. The Gospel says, “unto everyone that hath, shall be given and have abundance, but for him that hath not, shall be taken away even that hath.” Thus, the Matthew effect consists of the accruing of greater increments of recognition for scientific contributions to scientists of considerable repute and power and the withholding of such recognition from scientists who have not made their mark.

  —Robert Merton1

  As soon as Gallo believed it had been convincingly demonstrated that HTLV-1, discovered by Bernie Poiesz and me, was a disease-causing retrovirus in human beings, he put into motion his propaganda machine to convince the scientific world that his version of the events leading up to the discovery was the Gospel truth and all others were the most unspeakable of heresies.

  For example, Gallo always claimed credit for proving the link between HTLV-1 and ATL, which was not even close to the truth. That work had been done by Drs. Hinuma and Miyoshi of Japan. Gallo often said publicly that, “most of the work from Japan is not terribly relevant,” a lie which was clear to anybody with even a passing interest in the field.

  The discovery of HTLV-1 and my work with IL-2 gave him the opportunity to claim dominance in the field. Gallo once sent me to a meeting with our NCI collaborators who had helped develop the cell lines we’d used to isolate HTLV-1 to gently tell them their involvement in any further studies would be marginalized. Gallo wanted to hoard HTLV-1 and all retroviral studies to himself the way King Midas wanted all the world’s gold. He desperately needed sole recognition for this discovery and any efforts moving forward.

  There was one instance when I needed to see him on an important matter but could not get a meeting with him for several days. I wondered if he was dodging me, only to find out later he’d been at home for several days, in apparent mourning, because he had once again been denied membership to the National Academy of Sciences. When I finally did get to meet with him, all he could talk about was how his enemies had screwed him again.

  During the HTLV-1 discovery process, it became clear how critical my work on IL-2 was for the field. He quickly published a review on IL-2, then demanded to be a coauthor on all my future IL-2 papers. This demand was given in the middle of him not speaking to me for six weeks and then shouting at me because a French scientist had asked if he was still working with me on IL-2.

  At other times he tried to ingratiate himself with me and pull me into his web of fantasy. One day he told me in private that the two of us could be like the famous scientific partnership of Harold Varmus and J. Michael Bishop, who would go on to win the Nobel Prize in Medicine in 1989 for their research on the origins of cancer. I knew those two researchers each had their own resources and political power base, while I didn’t have either of those. In essence, Gallo would be the high school bully trying to get the competent kid to do his homework.

  Before Bernie Poiesz came to Gallo’s laboratory, he already had a position in Hematology-Oncology at the State University of New York (SUNY) Medical Center in Syracuse. Bernie returned to Syracuse after his time in the Gallo lab expired, but he didn’t escape unscathed from Gallo’s wrath. While Bernie didn’t need Gallo’s help to get a job, since SUNY wanted him back when he was finished with his work at the NCI, Bernie needed a recommendation letter from Gallo to receive funding to continue his HTLV-1 studies.

  How did Gallo respond?

  He wrote letters to the agencies which would have provided grants to Bernie, demeaning the quality of Bernie’s work. Bernie responded by threatening to sue Gallo, who then backed off.

  Shortly thereafter, I received a handwritten memo from Gallo, via the resource manager, about how I would not receive any more leukemia samples or viral preps, thus cutting me off form further HTLV-1 work in the field I had help create.

  I’m sorry to report that Gallo’s methods worked, because in the years to come whenever people talked about HTLV-1 it was always Gallo, Gallo, Gallo. Years later Bernie said to me, “I can’t change how people perceive it or how people present it in the media. The only thing I can do is my work. I spent many, many nights in the laboratory. The moment of discovery was ours, not Gallo’s.”

  Over the years I have struggled to match Bernie’s positive attitude.

  ***

  Out of the blue, Gallo called me from his office once to tell me he’d just talked to a perfect post-doctoral candidate for me.

  “What does she study?” I asked.

  “I can’t remember,” he replied.

  “How will I know her?” I questioned.

  “She has the best set of boobs I’ve ever seen,” he replied, then broke down into a head-shaking laugh.

  Dr. Christine Easement turned out to be an insightful, passionate investigator, with a first-class mind and the temperament to pursue challenging questions. As a competitive swimmer, she missed the Olympics by less than one hundredth of a second. She had developed a hamster bone marrow cell culture to study blood development from stem cells. Previous dogma said these cells had to stick to the bottom of the culture cell flash. Hers did not, and the collective wisdom was that her experiments must have failed. They had not, but it took us collaborating on several papers before one got published and the prevailing dogma was overturned.

  Of course, Gallo was not interested in this work, simply happy that I’d been eliminated from further work on HTLV-1.

  But my time with Gallo was growing short.

  I just didn’t know it.

  ***

  By 1981, I felt my scientific career was in a straitjacket. Gallo was keeping me off the challenging projects because I was getting too much credit. Instead, I was looking for work that might be important, while at the same time trying to convince Gallo that what I was doing probably wouldn’t lead to any groundbreaking discoveries.

  To make matters worse, in September 1981, my father passed away of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, telling me with his last breath that he was disappointed because I hadn’t given him a male heir. It was gut wrenching, because I felt if I had been more attentive, his life could have been prolonged.

  Meanwhile, several scientific friends of mine who shall remain nameless for fear of retali
ation said Gallo’s resurgence was my fault because Gallo’s career had been in the dumpster before my discoveries had saved him.

  That one hurt because it had some truth to it.

  The final blow came around my birthday in February 1982 when I received a letter from Gallo informing me that my position as a cancer expert would not be renewed, and by May I’d be out of a job. In the letter, he also advised me not to limit my job search to the Washington, DC area.

  The message was exceedingly clear.

  Gallo wanted me gone from his sight. When I went to his office and confronted him as to why he was letting me go, I was shocked by the honesty of his answer.

  “You’re getting too much credit,” he said.

  In what universe was I getting too much credit?

  I had hoped the scientists who mattered knew the phoniness of Gallo’s claims.

  Sandy and I understood that for each of us to obtain a position commensurate with our talents and experience, in the same city, would be a challenge. However, there were options. In 1978, Kendall Smith had tried to recruit both of us to Dartmouth Medical School in Hanover, New Hampshire. That qualified as being out of the Washington, DC area.

  Although both of us had always wanted to teach at a university, the attractions of academic life were not what we’d expected. Her recruiters told us that Sandy could be the first woman in the department to receive tenure there, something which immediately set off alarm bells in our heads. Ten years later, when I gave a presentation at Dartmouth, the female research fellows told me the situation remained the same.

  No woman had received tenure in the department.

  My recruiters also told us that if I was hired, I’d be the only person in my department who hadn’t graduated from Harvard. Nothing like a private little boys’ club, is there?

  Before we even decided, Steve Collins sent me a copy of the Dartmouth alumni journal with an item that announced the two of us were joining the faculty. The galling arrogance of the place had turned us off. It’s difficult even now for me to believe that despite the misogyny we witnessed in graduate school and at the NIH, the NIH still provided more opportunities for women than most universities. For today’s situation, see the documentary, Picture a Scientist.

  Our experience at Dartmouth in 1978, although disturbing, would end up being my most positive experience in the job search. I answered an employment ad in Science for the new armed forces medical school which had several faculty positions. I phoned the chairman of the microbiology department, who, after looking at my credentials for a few minutes, said, “You are the best candidate for this job. Please call me back when the ad closes.”

  When I did, he claimed he’d never talked to me! What do you say to that? Had Gallo gotten to him?

  A position at the armed forces radiologic institute also mysteriously disappeared.

  When I talked to many of the famous and well-respected scientists with whom I’d worked, and who I knew disliked Gallo as much as I did, they told me nobody would hire me because of my association with Gallo. What was deeply disturbing was how many of my former colleagues refused to write me letters of recommendation because of their fear of Gallo’s wrath. One time, I was talking to a scientist in Seattle, asked for the letter, and actually heard him close his office door before asking if I thought Gallo would approve of him writing such a letter.

  I replied that he’d probably have to ask Gallo himself, but my guess would be no.

  He declined to write me a letter.

  A friend from the Special Viral Cancer Program offered Sandy and me a job with a company in Seattle for less money and informed us we’d have to share a single technician. What an insult. That was definitely not a job we would consider.

  Without going into all the odd and terrible experiences of that time, let me simply say I got nowhere for six months. As a result of that experience, I have realized how thoughtless it can be to tell a recently unemployed friend that they’ll have no trouble finding a job. As each day passed without success, I sank deeper and deeper into depression.

  An amusing incident occurred while I was unemployed, which perhaps was the universe telling me that even in the midst of my misery, my position had substantially improved. One Sunday morning I received an unexpected call from Mary Jane Gallo, the wife of my former boss. From my years of working with Gallo I knew he had a roving eye. One time, Gallo lost one of his attempted paramours to another young scientist and must have waited for the appropriate moment to call their room, then hung up when they answered.

  The next morning, I had breakfast with the scientist, and he asked if I’d been the one to call the room at Gallo’s direction.

  I told him I had not. It must have been Gallo. That was his vengeful style.

  Mary Jane Gallo’s call to me that morning was not to complain about her husband’s wandering eye, but to tell me that he was buying this particular woman in the lab expensive gifts with his Lasker Prize money, which had been given to him for my HTLV-1 research! According to Mary Jane, she’d told Bob to get rid of the woman, but he claimed she was too important to the lab.

  I said to her, “Think of all the people you’ve met, who’ve now disappeared from his lab. Your husband does not need anyone. It’s just a ploy to keep her around the lab.”

  Mary Jane must have listened to me because that woman soon left the lab for an endowed chair at the University of California, San Diego, more than two thousand miles away! Such are the wages of sin!

  I guess it was a pyrrhic victory for Mary Jane, but I wonder if she gained anything of lasting value. I have never understood the mistreatment of women by powerful men but am equally confused by the women who choose to remain at the sides of such men.

  ***

  Meanwhile, my career was at a crossroads. Every day I was unemployed I felt like an athlete whose skills were diminishing each moment I was off the field.

  I had an excellent interview with Dr. Ruth Kirschstein, a wise, warm, and caring director of the NIH’s General Medical Science Institute. After reviewing my application, she said, “Boy! I would love to have your resume!” She kindly offered me a permanent civil service position to be a program administrator. It also came with a nice bump in salary from my position in the Gallo lab.

  But it came with a catch.

  She said, “Frank, you have to decide whether you want to be a referee or a player.”

  Although I hated to turn her down, I knew I could only be a player, meaning my destiny was to be a researcher in the lab.

  As part of his 1971 War on Cancer Act, President Nixon requested that the US Army transfer land and buildings which had previously been used for the biological and chemical warfare research program at Fort Detrick, Maryland, to the NCI for use in cancer research.

  When Reagan came into office in 1981, he greatly expanded the use of these outside contractors, firing many scientists, but then bringing them back under the umbrella of these corporate, for-profit labs. Of course, the researchers were paid less, had fewer benefits, and the intellectual freedom to stand up to powerful governmental or corporate interests was greatly reduced.

  However, the decision to turn Fort Detrick from a biological and chemical warfare facility into a cancer research program did have some benefits for me.

  One of the programs they were setting up at Fort Detrick was an innovative program called the Biological Response Modifiers Program (BRMP). The impetus for the program had been the twin research for interferon, a naturally occurring biological molecule which attacked both viruses and cancer, and IL-2, which the new laboratory chief, Dr. Ron Herberman, had discovered activated a natural killer cell that attacked cancer cells. Herberman offered me a position to study these immunological mechanisms at the new NCI on the grounds of Fort Detrick, and I eagerly accepted. There was also the possibility of a good position for Sandy there as well. Despite our fantasies of academia, it was hard to leave the NCI.

  It had been a long six months, but as Labor Day, 1982, approached,
Sandy and I went to Boston to visit with my mother and siblings. I lost a vigorous game of tennis with my brother, then when I returned home my mother said Gallo had called and left a return number. My heart sunk.

  I nervously dialed, wondering what fresh troubles might arise, but when I reached him, Gallo said, “I’m sorry you can’t find a job. But I have a position for you in my lab, Frank.”

  I paused for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Bob, but I have a job.” I was feeling pretty good about my position. But Gallo, the master chess player, had a move I hadn’t anticipated.

  Gallo replied, “Haven’t you heard, Frank? It’s been eliminated.”

  When I returned to Bethesda, I called Herberman and asked what the hell had happened. Herberman replied, “Frank, if I were you, I’d get a lawyer. Gallo convinced the director of cancer treatment to eliminate your position.”

  I knew Gallo had been getting criticism from his colleagues about how I’d been treated by him, although he claimed he’d never received a single phone call from anybody about me for a recommendation. Gallo made me many promises of work freedom, which I knew were lies, but I reasoned it was easier to get a job if I already had a job. But in my mind, I knew Gallo’s approach. He’d say he gave me a second chance; I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get a job anywhere else, and he’d eventually have to let me go.

  It was a second chance to walk the plank, but now I knew what I was doing.

  After twenty weeks of unemployment and feeling completely useless, I reported to the Gallo lab again in October 1982. Despite receiving the outward trappings of a valued scientist, a small lab and an office, I wasn’t given anything to do. I wasn’t allowed to attend staff meetings and the lab members were given strict orders not to talk to me, which I’m sorry to report, most of them obeyed.

  I was in Gulag Gallo, silenced by the salary I was getting, rather than being needy and complaining on the outside. I considered Herberman’s advice to get an attorney, gather my evidence, and prepare for the inevitable confrontation with Gallo.