The Origins of the Crellin Laboratory

Architectural schematic for the third floor of the Crellin Laboratory.

[Celebrating the 75th anniversary of the dedication of the Crellin Laboratory at the California Institute of Technology.  Part 1 of 3]

By the early 1920s, the California Institute of Technology had become, in the minds of some, “the hub of America’s scientific establishments.” This point of prestige was especially notable because Caltech was so new and very geographically distant from other major scientific research enterprises, which were predominantly located on the east coast or around the Great Lakes region. Part of this success was due to the construction of the Gates Chemistry Laboratories, built in 1917 and expanded in 1927.

The prestige and skill exhibited by Caltech caught the attention of the very influential and wealthy Rockefeller Foundation, which began supporting certain of the Institute’s operations in the early 1930s.  This support was crucial for many reasons, one of them being that, by 1930, the Gates Laboratory had reached capacity. A.A. Noyes, chair of the Chemistry department at the time, commented that there was “literally no space for another research man,” and that greatly expanded facilities were exactly what the department needed to fulfill its vast potential. Linus Pauling, working in the Gates Lab, opined that the Institute was home to “the most forward looking Department of Chemistry with respect to physical chemistry in the world.” This was in no small part due to the superior leadership of Noyes, who had dramatically expanded the Chemistry and Chemical Engineering departments during his legendary tenure.

X-ray apparatus assembled on Linus Pauling’s desk in the basement of the Gates Laboratory, 1925. Pauling’s hat is seen in the rear of the photo.

The Rockefeller Foundation apparently agreed with Pauling’s assessment of Caltech’s capabilities, and in the early 1930s began to grant substantial funds to the Institute to further its leading positions in the fields of biology and chemistry. Specifically, the Institute held a key position in the development of a new field being pushed by the Foundation – a field described in 1938 as “molecular biology” by Rockefeller staffer Warren Weaver. Considering that the Great Depression was still in full swing, these additional funds were a godsend as research money was understandably difficult to come by.

In 1936, after some debate and controversy, Pauling was appointed the Chairman and Director of Caltech’s Division of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering, and also the Director of the Gates Laboratory of Chemistry, a position he held until 1958. Pauling was pleased with his increased responsibility and control, and decided that he wanted to revamp the department, and the labs in general, to better suit his vision for Caltech.

The Rockefeller Foundation agreed to provide Caltech with more money for purposes of expanding the Chemistry department and the Gates Lab. To this end, the Foundation also courted Edward W. Crellin, a retired steel magnate who lived in Pasadena. Fairly quickly, still in 1936, Crellin agreed to donate $350,000 – about $5.7 million in today’s dollars – in support of the construction of an expansion to the Gates lab, which was to be renamed the Gates and Crellin Chemical Laboratories. A year later, Crellin donated an additional $5,000 to provide floor coverings for the lab.

Edward W. Crellin.

Pauling was so pleased by Crellin’s contributions that he named his son, born June 4, 1937, Edward Crellin Pauling. Even though Edward Crellin and Crellin Pauling never got to know each other – Edward Crellin died when Crellin Pauling was only 11 – he was still flattered by Linus Pauling’s gesture, and left $5,000 in his will for Crellin Pauling.

The architects for the building initiative were Francis Mayers, Oscar Murray, and Hardie Phillip, and the project was expensive. In March 1937, Pauling received a memo from the Chemistry department that suggested cuts to the building, in order to reduce costs. The memo listed 29 suggested reductions that would lower the total cost by $47,039. The list also included three suggested additions, which would add $965 to the bill. His eyes firmly set on a world-class facility, Pauling agreed to consider only a few minor possibilities: “omit some ceiling inserts” ($240), “simplify water proofing on vertical walls” ($450), “omit birch strips on exterior walls” ($158), and “use skim coat plaster” ($200).

In addition to the building itself, outfitting costs for the new space were also high. The equipment required for the lab to function ran to $36,000 – $51,000, depending on the contractor. In addition, basic chemicals were an extra $1,200. The Chemistry department rejected Pauling’s request for more specialized analytical machines, as they would tack on an extra $4,500.

The process of bartering for and ultimately purchasing the materials that the new lab would need was slowed down in July 1937 by over three weeks, when Carl Niemann, a colleague that Pauling had entrusted to do much of the purchasing, was hospitalized. Niemann wrote in a letter to Pauling that he had gone to see a doctor because he had a chunk of rust embedded in the cornea of his left eye, “and the first attempt to remove it was not particularly successful.” He was then hospitalized and had to “have the disturbing element removed and the seat of the injury cauterized.” Despite the potential severity of the injury, Niemann made a full recovery, and the quest to secure the necessary chemicals resumed.

Once the needed equipment and chemicals had been secured, more attention was paid to the new laboratory’s décor, and Caltech had a bronze tablet cast. The tablet, which was eventually installed at the entrance of the lab, read simply: “Crellin Laboratory of Chemistry. The Gift of Edward W. and Amy H. Crellin. 1937.”

Pauling110

Linus Pauling. Lecturing at the Concepts of Chemical Bonding Seminar, Oslo University, Oslo, Norway. 1982.

Today marks the 110th anniversary of Linus Pauling’s birth, which occurred in Portland, Oregon on February 28, 1901. As has become tradition on the Pauling Blog, we are celebrating this occasion by looking back at Pauling’s life in increments of twenty-five years.

1911

At the tender age of ten, young Linus was already at a crossroads in his life. First and foremost, his father Herman had died of a perforated ulcer the previous summer, thus throwing the Pauling family into something akin to chaos. Herman was a pharmacist and businessman of middling success, and his death was a source of major financial concern for his widow Isabelle and their three children, Linus, Pauline (age 9) and Lucile (age 7). From this point on, Linus’s childhood was certainly informed, if not dominated, by the continual need to contribute to the household income. His mother’s only asset of consequence was the family home, which she boarded out on a regular basis in an attempt to make ends meet. But as time passed and Belle’s own health faded, her only son was frequently called upon to assist with the family finances, leading Linus to assume any number of odd jobs, from delivery boy to film projectionist to grocery clerk.

Young Linus, ca. 1910s.

It was at this same time that the boy’s interest in science was beginning to flower. The previous year Herman had written a letter to the Portland Oregonian newspaper indicating that his son was a “great reader” keenly interested in ancient history and the natural sciences. In 1911 Pauling’s scientific impulses continued to flourish in the form of an insect collection that he maintained and classified using books checked out from the Portland library. Not long after, as with many scientists of his generation, Linus would develop an interest in minerals and begin compiling a personal collection of classified stones that he found.

1936

By the age of thirty-five, Pauling had already established himself as among the world’s pre-eminent structural chemists and was well on his way to making a major impact in the biological sciences. In 1936 Pauling met Karl Landsteiner of the Rockefeller Institute, a Nobel laureate researcher best known at the time for having determined the existence of different blood types in human beings. In their initial meeting, Pauling and Landsteiner discussed Landsteiner’s program of research in immunology, a conversation that would lead to a fruitful collaboration between the two scientists. Importantly, his interactions with Landsteiner would lead Pauling to think about and publish important work on the specificity of serological reactions, in particular the relationship between antibodies and antigens in the human body.

Linus Pauling, 1936.

The year also bore witness to a major change at the California Institute of Technology: in June, Arthur Amos Noyes died. Noyes had served as chairman of the Caltech Chemistry Division for some twenty-seven years and was among the best known chemists of his era. His death ushered a power vacuum within the academic administration at Caltech, by then an emerging force in scientific research. Three of Pauling’s colleagues cautiously recommended to Caltech president Robert Millikan that Pauling be installed as interim chair of the department. Millikan agreed and offered the position to Pauling, but was met with refusal. At the time of the proposal,  Pauling was the object of some degree of criticism within the ranks at Caltech – certain of his peers felt him to be overly ambitious and even reckless in his pursuit of scientific advance – and the suggestion that Pauling assume division leadership was hardly unanimous. Millikan’s terms likewise did not meet with Pauling’s approval; in essence he felt that he would be burdened with more responsibility but would not gain in authority. The impasse would not last long however, as Pauling would eventually accept a new offer in April 1937 and begin a twenty-one year tenure as division chief.

1961

A busy year started off with a bang when the sixty-year-old Pauling was chosen alongside a cache of other U.S. scientists as “Men of the Year” by Time magazine. By this period in Pauling’s life his peace activism was a topic of international conversation and early in the year Linus and Ava Helen followed up their famous 1958 United Nations Bomb Test Petition with a second “Appeal to Stop the Spread of Nuclear Weapons,” issued in the wake of nuclear tests carried out by France. As a follow-up, the Paulings organized and attended a May conference held in Oslo Norway, at which the attendees (35 physical and biological scientists and 25 social scientists from around the world) issued the “Oslo Statement,” decrying nuclear proliferation and the continuation of nuclear tests.

Group photo of participants in the Oslo Conference, 1961.

While Pauling’s attentions during this period were increasingly drawn to his peace work, he did make time for innovative scientific research. Of particular note was his theory of anesthesia, published in July in the journal Science. Pauling’s idea was that anesthetic agents formed hydrate “cages” with properties similar to ice crystals. Owing to the nature of their molecular structure, these cages would impede electrical impulses in the brain, thus leading to unconsciousness. In a review article published one year later, the pharmacologist Chauncey Leake described the theory as “spectacular,” though for reasons that are still unclear it failed to gain traction with the larger scientific community.

1986

By age eighty-five, Pauling’s interests centered largely upon his continuing fascination with vitamin C. Having already published monographs focusing upon ascorbic acid’s capacity to ward of the common cold and the flu, Pauling was ready to put his thinking together into a general audience book that would discuss the path to happier and healthier lives. The result was How to Live Longer and Feel Better, a modest critical and commercial success that helped bolster the reputation and the finances of the struggling Linus Pauling Institute of Science and Medicine.

Pauling at 85.

Many of the recommendations that Pauling made in How to Live Longer… were fairly typical of most health promotion books: a sensible diet, regular exercise and no smoking. The major exception to this moderate approach was the famed author’s stance on vitamin supplementation. In biographer Thomas Hager‘s words

Pauling was now advising between 6 and 18 grams of vitamin C per day, plus 400-16,000 IU of vitamin E (40-160 times the RDA), 25,000 IU of vitamin A (five times the RDA), and one or two ‘super B’ tablets for the B vitamins, along with a basic mineral supplement.

This staunch belief in the value of megavitamins would stay with Pauling until his death eight years later, in August 1994.

The Paving Inspector Job

Linus Pauling (second from right) with a highway work crew, Sutherlin, Oregon. Summer 1922.

A unique chapter of Linus Pauling’s life played out over the summers of his undergraduate years at Oregon Agricultural College. A theme that had shadowed much of his young adult life – problems with finances – would continue to follow him into his graduate studies. The absence of a steady source of income, as well as short periods of more intensified financial hardship, significantly shaped the transition years between his start as an undergraduate and the beginning of his rigorous studies at the California Institute of Technology.

Pauling worked odd jobs on campus to make ends meet during the school year, but during most summers he was employed by the Oregon State Highway Commission as a paving plant inspector, living in a tent and charged with monitoring the quality of the bitumen-stone mixes used in the building of roads. His employment at the highway commission would stretch from the end of his sophomore year to the beginning of his doctoral studies. Over this course of time, particularly his final summer, distinguishing themes and aspects of Pauling’s professional life began to blossom.

Though it was not glorified work, and at times very boring, Pauling did enjoy his time working outdoors. He wrote of his love for the sun, and the benefits of spending a substantial portion of the year outside of a laboratory. Though Pauling would go on to work three additional summers for the highway commission, his first year was not without conflict. At this time he worked under the partial jurisdiction of a man named E.W. Lazell, a chemical and efficiency engineer stationed in Portland. A series of letters and reprimands from Mr. Lazell, as well as consultations with third parties, became common toward the end of Pauling’s first summer at the commission. In early September Pauling replied to department official Leland Gregory, apparently in regard to a complaint lodged against his handling of paving material temperatures. The “misinformed informant,” as Pauling referred to the unnamed complainant (Lazell), could apparently have been better informed had he referred to Pauling’s reports.

At the end of his first season with the commission, Pauling’s mother Belle informed him that she had been forced to use the money he had been sending her over the summer. The money had been meant to pay his school expenses for the following year, and with no additional funds at his disposal, Pauling chose to continue working into the fall.

Luckily, in late autumn of the same year, Pauling was offered a job by the chemistry department at O. A. C. Though it entailed a $25 per month pay cut, Pauling returned to the college as a full-time assistant instructor in quantitative analysis. The following summer he began work once again for the highway commission, and saved enough money to continue his studies as an undergraduate.

As has been well-documented, it is during Pauling’s stint as “boy professor” that he met Ava Helen Miller, his future wife, while teaching chemistry to her and twenty-four other home economics students. The two began dating toward the end of the school year, and the exchange of letters between them during Pauling’s last summer as a paving plant inspector gives one of the clearest and most intimate views of the future Nobel Prize winner’s advancing train of thought. All in all Pauling received 94 letters over the summer from Ava Miller, and replied in kind every day, sometimes two or three times.

You are my own darling girl, and your love is my only priceless possession. I shall try to make my life perfect in order that it may be good enough for you. I love your beautiful big blue eyes, your dainty little ears, your adorable own darling self. I love you.

-Linus Pauling to Ava Helen Miller, June 14, 1922.

The elements that generally defined Pauling’s correspondence with his future wife were a) their wish to be engaged, and b) the strong opposition to marriage that the two faced from their respective families. Always the romantic, Pauling was accused by some of Ava’s friends as being consistently “too mushy,” and indeed there is much written between the two about marriage, children and love.

However, over the course of their exchanges, Pauling likewise discussed much of his evolving personal philosophy. Both suggested reading materials to one another, with the bulk of the books suggested by Ava generally being metaphysical or philosophical in nature. As a result, Pauling discussed, in great detail, his perceptions of the soul, his conflicted feelings between animism and materialism, and his predisposition towards pacifism.

Money, a common theme for the duration of his undergraduate experience, also makes its presence felt throughout their correspondence. At times Pauling secretly mailed money to Ava to help finance trips to see him. He also devoted a substantial portion of his energies to trying to acquire the funds that would allow the two to marry after the summer’s end, with or without help from their parents.

Through youthful confessions, bouts of jealousy, and bold declarations, much can be gleaned about the budding relationship between Pauling and his wife-to-be. Other precursors such as Ava’s influence on Pauling’s diet, as well as his developing fascination with fruits, hint at patterns that would come to define important periods of his future life.

Hand-tinted photo of Pauling at the Sutherlin work site, 1922.

Pauling also read from his own selection of books, and took quite a liking to David Copperfield among others. Far and away, however, a major defining characteristic of his summer evenings was the time that he spent working through proof sheets of the first nine chapters of a newly revised chemistry textbook, Chemical Principles, sent to him by Arthur Amos Noyes, the head of the Division of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering at the California Institute of Technology.

Worked while stationed near the Pacific Coast at Astoria, Pauling devoured all 500 of the listed problems. After discussing his other interests with Noyes by mail, Pauling also began reading books on x-ray crystallography, a new technique being used to study the structure of crystals.  (One of these texts was X-rays and Crystal Structures by W. H. and W. L. Bragg, the latter of whom would eventually become a chief scientific rival of Pauling’s.)  Having completed his reading, and prompted by some nudging from Noyes, Pauling would begin his career as an x-ray crystallographer under the direction Professor Roscoe Dickinson at Caltech the following year.

It is clear by the end of his final summer with the highway commission that Pauling had grown weary of his summer occupation. (In an August 1922 letter to Ava Helen he writes: “I really hate working in a paving plant.  I do it just because I earn more than I would elsewhere.”) Bored, lonely and finished with the problem sets given to him by Professor Noyes, it appears that Pauling was left in an ideal state of mind to begin his graduate studies, and start what would become a brilliant career as an academic, a scientist and an activist for peace.

For more information on Linus Pauling in Oregon, check out our Oregon 150 series. For general information on Linus Pauling, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Pauling’s Methodology: X-ray Crystallography

X-ray apparatus at Linus Pauling's desk, Gates Laboratory, California Institute of Technology. 1925.

“I was very fortunate in having A.A. Noyes suggest to me, or tell me, that I was to work with Roscoe Dickinson on x-ray crystallography, determination of the structure of crystals by x-ray diffraction. This technique gave for the first time detailed information about how atoms are related to other atoms in a crystal and how far apart they are from the other atoms.“
- Linus Pauling, 1988.

As a graduate student, well before Pauling began to research hemoglobin in earnest, he spent a great deal of his time using the technique of X-ray crystallography to determine the crystalline structure of a number of inorganic compounds. Pauling recalled that at that time X-ray crystallography “was a new technique, ten years old when I began. Quite a number of structures had been determined but there was a tremendous field open, a tremendous amount of work that could be done.”

Listen: Pauling discusses the importance of X-ray crystallography to his early structural chemistry research

The young Pauling obviously reveled in the excitement of being able to use a new and powerful technology. “We have a pretty extensive collection of apparatus” he once wrote to William Lawrence Bragg, the senior author of a 1922 textbook that started Pauling on X-ray crystallographic research. Any one of Bragg’s student’s, Pauling remarked, “no matter how physical his training,” need not “be frightened at coming to a chemical laboratory” so well-stocked with mechanical apparatus.

Initially Pauling used the technique of X-ray diffraction to determine the structures of fairly simple inorganic compounds, but later, as his own expertise grew and as he discovered new sources of funding, Pauling oriented this new technology toward complex organic compounds, including hemoglobin.

What was ultimately important to Pauling was not what X-ray crystallography could tell him about the size, structure, or relative placement of atoms within a molecule, but rather, what broader theories that information could then be used to support. His growing allegiance to structural chemistry, his developing ideas about the nature of the chemical bond, and his still nascent interest in biochemical interaction were all fed by his experience of rigorously determining molecular structure through new technological methods.

Pauling’s manuscript notes concerning his early experiments with hemochromogen, for instance, indicate the wide spectrum of experimental results he had to assimilate in order to create a coherent picture of the hemoglobin molecule.

"Outline of Experiments on Hemochromagen," pg. 1. June 25, 1935.

The difficulties presented by the need to combine the information he had obtained from x-diffraction with information from other kinds of experimentation, including solubility and more traditional experimental methods, are readily apparent in Pauling’s notes.  Indeed, the impressive new technology of X-ray crystallography is relegated to just one entry in a list of experimental results.

Ultimately it wasn’t the technology at Pauling’s disposal that helped him become such a successful researcher, but rather his attitude in approaching technology and his ability to use the results it gave him to construct more broadly-applicable and intellectually-powerful theories.

To learn more about Linus Pauling’s use of x-ray crystallography, see the websites Linus Pauling and the Nature of the Chemical Bond: A Documentary History and It’s in the Blood!  A Documentary History of Linus Pauling, Hemoglobin and Sickle Cell Anemia.

The Guggenheim Trip, Part I: Touring in Southern Europe

Ava Helen Pauling at The Temple of Neptune. Paestum, Italy, 1926

“Noyes, a romantic at heart, may have hoped that Pauling’s Italian tour would bring to flower a latent aesthetic sensibility. But Pauling wasn’t Noyes.”
- Thomas Hager, Force of Nature: The Life of Linus Pauling, 1995

By the mid-1920s, scientific institutions across Europe were producing top notch researchers in physics and chemistry. New and exciting research was being conducted across the continent and the scientific community was booming. To many, Caltech seemed a veritable backwater compared to the laboratories of Göttingen, Munich, and Copenhagen. It was in this context that, in 1925, Linus Pauling applied for a Guggenheim Fellowship with the hope of funding a European tour to visit the continent’s world-famous laboratories and learn from its scientific leaders.

In mid-1920s, prior to his Guggenheim application, Pauling was supported by a fellowship from the National Research Council. The fellowship was meant to allow Pauling to work at Caltech for six months, and then send him on to the University of California, Berkeley for another six month stint. A. A. Noyes, head of the Caltech chemistry department, had other plans. As a leading member of the American scientific community, he was able to convince Frank Aydelotte, the head of the Guggenheim Foundation, to guarantee Pauling a fellowship. Noyes also proposed that Pauling be sent to Europe early so that he and Ava Helen could enjoy the sights of the continent before beginning an intensive work schedule. In return, Noyes suggested that Pauling forfeit his National Research Council fellowship and remain at Caltech rather than serving the half-years stint at Berkeley. Pauling readily accepted the proposal.

On March 4, 1926, Linus and Ava Helen Pauling said goodbye to their infant son and departed for the East Coast. After a trans-continental train trip and a brief stay in New York, the couple stepped onto the steamship Duilio, therein officially embarking on their first trip to Europe. After a week of rough seas and a “young hurricane,” the Paulings and their shipmates finally set foot on dry land on the island of Madeira off the coast of Portugal. In response to her first sight of European land, twenty-three year-old Ava Helen wrote in her diary,

“For two hours we sailed along the southern edge of Madeira, watching the pretty villages made of toy houses with red roofs scattered along the terraced slopes, and seeing light lovely waterfalls beneath the snow-topped hills.”

Her diary entries, filled with romantic imagery and exclamations of delight, contrast sharply with her husband’s letters to his mentor, A. A. Noyes, in which he deemed Naples “not spotless,” the Roman ruins “disappointing” and Rome itself “terribly crowded.”

The Paulings’ wedding had been a quiet event followed by a one-day honeymoon in the small town of Corvallis, Oregon. Though three years late, their stay in southern Europe evolved into the honeymoon that they had missed. Even Linus’ complaints couldn’t stifle the fun of the trip. Ava Helen Pauling kept a travel diary, given to her by Linus and inscribed “For my dear Ava Helen.” In it she (and occasionally her husband) recounted, in detail, the notable events of their travels, including a diagram of the Rock of Gibraltar. In contrast, Pauling’s own diary briefly notes the trip across the U.S., a few sights in New York, and several days’ weather reports before ending in a long series of blank pages. It seems the young scientist had little interest in travel journalism.

Among the more colorful of Ava Helen’s entries is her description of an assassination attempt on Benito Mussolini in which an English woman “shot him through the nose,” followed by a further recounting of Mussolini’s car, containing the undoubtedly shaken leader, as it passed through a crowd of excited Fascists. This was not the only encounter the couple had with Italian politics during their stay. On a train ride from Pisa to Florence, the Paulings found themselves in conversation with a leader of the Fascist movement in Florence. During the trip, he regaled them with stories of his war wounds, the evils of Communism, and the successes of Mussolini. The couple, while entertained by the man’s exotic tales, were “glad to return to Florence and to dinner.”

The Pauling’s vacation, originally meant to continue through the end of April, ended a week early, at Linus’ insistence. In a letter to Noyes, he wrote “We have come to the end of a very pleasant trip, and I am glad; for even though Italy is wonderful, and everything was new to us, traveling becomes tiresome. Moreover, I am very anxious to get back to work after nearly two months of idleness.” Not even the romance of Italy in the spring could keep Pauling out of the laboratory for long. It was on to Munich for the restless young scientist.

View Ava Helen Pauling’s entire travel diary or learn more about the Guggenheim trip on the website “Linus Pauling and the Nature of the Chemical Bond: A Documentary History.”

[Ed. Note: Parts II and III of our series on the Paulings' Guggenheim trip will appear next week]