General Chemistry

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[Ed Note: Today we begin a lengthy examination of Linus Pauling’s milestone textbook, General Chemistry, which was published seventy years ago. This is part 1 of 7.]

Linus Pauling’s first college textbook, General Chemistry, revolutionized science textbook publishing and changed how professors, students, and authors approached introductory texts. The first edition was published in 1947 by a fledgling independent press, W.H. Freeman and Company, that enjoyed its first taste of success as a result of Pauling’s book. And what a success it was! General Chemistry was on the market for over twenty years, was translated into more than ten languages, and was adopted at almost 200 universities in the United States alone. Over the next several weeks, we will endeavor to tell the story of how this book came to be and the significant impact that it ultimately made.


Several years before Pauling set out to write a book himself, he noted that the science texts in current use – particularly freshman and introductory texts – often failed to keep up with new and updated theories. This concerned Pauling as he firmly believed that introductory texts were an important foundation to a scientific education.

He likewise worried that authors of such texts often attempted to cram too much information into their pages and in the process lessened the student’s opportunities to gain practical experience from their education. In addition, Pauling felt that authors of the day tended to present their subjects chaotically and too often failed to distinguish guiding principles from constituent components. Even when an author did identify distinguishing principles, Pauling complained that their bias further inhibited students.

Clearly this situation could be improved upon, and in his initial notes on the topic, Pauling began to sketch out a vision for what would later come to pass, recording a variety of observations like the following:

I believe that a book would be valuable to young students which gave them concrete pictures of molecules as we now picture them. Ionic substances could well be described as containing spherical [sic] given by ‘crystal radii,’ the electrons staying mostly within.

As he surveyed the pedagogical landscape, Pauling identified a particular need for improvement in instruction on theories of atomic structure as well as ideas emerging from quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, and thermodynamics. Accordingly, he began preparing lessons and supplementary materials on these topics for use in his own teaching. These materials, which eventually took on the form of a booklet, touched upon new theories while also providing concise explanations and discussions of the practical applications of various older theories. Pauling updated this booklet frequently, using it to supplement Joel Henry Hildebrand’s Principles of Chemistry, the textbook of choice for many introductory-level chemistry classes, including those taught at Caltech.

As time moved forward, Pauling became more serious about reformatting and publishing a version of his classroom booklet, which mostly consisted of a semi-formal collection of notes. As he developed his publication plan, Pauling drew up an outline of the subjects that would want to discuss in his text. He also jotted down thoughts on general formatting as well as broad introductory remarks on the importance, history, and daily application of chemistry. Having thrived as a lecturer for over a decade already, Pauling felt that he had far more to offer to students than a rote recitation of past discoveries, results and publications. Indeed, his ultimate ambition was to re-imagine the very foundations of chemistry education.


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Pauling eventually had his revised booklet, which he titled Elementary Chemistry: The Facts and Basics of Chemistry and their Significance in Modern Life, lithographed for the purpose of aesthetics and ease. As he later remarked to publisher Bill Freeman, he did not consider this collection, even after he had it lithographed, to be a separate draft. On the contrary, this version of what would become a major textbook was to be regarded as a snapshot of a stage in Pauling’s writing process.

Pauling didn’t formally announce his plans to publish a textbook until 1941, by which time he had generated a more organized draft of thirteen mimeographed chapters. He changed the title of his manuscript to General Chemistry: A First-year Course to Follow a Year of High School Chemistry, and by the early months of 1942 he had a group of ten publishers competing for the opportunity to publish his book.

Choosing which publishing offer to accept proved to be a difficult process for Pauling. By 1942, Pauling had emerged as a star within the world of science and several publishers recognized full-well the likely benefit of having his name associated with their company. For his part, Pauling strove to find a publisher who recognized the value of the book itself, regardless of the name attached to it.

John Wiley & Sons was the first company to approach Pauling about his manuscript but the relationship quickly soured, partly because Pauling had become extremely busy. Burdened by a great many other duties, Pauling did not appreciate Wiley’s stipulation that he wait until they had “thoroughly examined the manuscript” before allowing him to send it anywhere else. The final straw came about when Wiley expressed skepticism that Pauling would finish his text in a timely manner; annoyed, Pauling withdrew the manuscript from their consideration.

W.B. Saunders Company approached Pauling next and expressed such a genuine and deep interest in his work that Pauling began negotiating with them shortly after they had made their initial pitch. Saunders had substantial experience publishing scientific texts and, unlike Wiley & Co., believed so completely in the Pauling book’s potential to succeed that they proposed a royalty rate of 15% for each retail sale. (J.C. Stacey Inc., another company in the running at the time, learned what Saunders was proposing and advised Pauling to accept the offer, as 15% far exceeded the standard royalty rate being tendered to authors at that time.) Saunders also offered to send Pauling’s preliminary draft to a chemistry professor for initial feedback and to finance a graduate student to assist with the detail work.

Encouraged by the host of publishers clamoring to publish his work, Pauling continued to revise his manuscript. This steady rhythm was interrupted when the United States entered World War II, a point at which Pauling quickly realized that his government-funded war projects were going to require his full attention. Discouraged from writing, but recognizing the importance of what he was doing, he sent out a copy letter to all publishers interested in his manuscript. In it, he stated that the present circumstances were such that he was unlikely to make much progress on his book. When the war concluded in 1945, many of these publishers inquired again, but by then Pauling had made his decision.


 

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Cartoon tipped into Pauling’s first edition, first printing of General Chemistry, 1947.

William Freeman, a representative of the college department at MacMillan Publishers, had approached Pauling in 1941 to express MacMillan’s interest in Pauling’s manuscript. A strong contender from the beginning, MacMillan had enticed Pauling with their experience as a mainstream textbook publisher. The company’s associate editor also promised Pauling the best editing services and attention around.

In the end however, it was Bill Freeman who won Pauling over. Since Freeman worked at MacMillan’s San Francisco branch, he offered to meet with Pauling in Pasadena to discuss, in person, the means by which they might partner to navigate the publishing world and protect Pauling’s rights as an author. Pauling was concerned that Macmillan, though a major player in the textbook industry, hadn’t published many scientific volumes. Freeman replied candidly, pointing out that this was actually a good thing because it meant that Pauling wouldn’t have to compete for marketing resources within the company.

Freeman also assured Pauling that, although a high royalty might look good in the short-term, a lower royalty, such as the one that MacMillan was offering, would allow the company to market the book at a lower cost. Doing so, Freeman argued, would ensure a higher volume of sales for Pauling’s text and, consequently, a more widespread adoption. Pauling was impressed. After meeting with Freeman, he returned Saunders’ contract completely blank.

When the U.S. entered the war, Pauling sent MacMillan the same letter that he had sent to everyone else, detailing the time conflicts that he was confronting with his scientific war work and announcing that the book project was moving to the back burner. But as the war years went by, Pauling and Freeman stayed in touch, and the relationship that the two men developed during this period made all the difference.

When Freeman decided to strike out on his own as an independent textbook publisher with a focus on science, he recruited Pauling to edit a series of chemistry books that he planned to publish over the next decade. In turn, Pauling entrusted his own coveted manuscript to Freeman as the first book to be released in this series and, ultimately, the first text that W.H. Freeman and Company would ever publish.

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Intravenous Vitamin C: The Current Science

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Jeanne Drisko with Murray Susser. Both Drisko and Susser are past presidents of the American College for Advancement in Medicine.

[Part 2 of 2]

At her public lecture, “Intravenous Vitamin C: Does it Work?” delivered at the Linus Pauling Institute’s Diet and Optimum Health Conference in September 2017, Dr. Jeanne Drisko of the University of Kansas Medical Center, Kansas City, provided an overview of current research on the potential impact of intravenous vitamin C in treating disease.

She began this portion of her talk by reflecting on the factors that have continued to propel her own scientific interest in the topic, despite the headwinds generated by critics of the work. For one, Drisko has taken heart in the fact that intravenous vitamin C is used in many clinics around the world. Indeed, at a 2006 integrative medicine conference, Drisko and colleague Mark Levine took a survey of participants and found that some 8,000 patients had received intravenous vitamin C from doctors attending the meeting. Because Drisko maintains contacts in both conventional and alternative medical circles, she knows that naturopaths have been using intravenous vitamin C as well.

Drisko then pointed out that one barrier to more widespread acceptance of vitamin C as a cancer treatment is that, conventionally, it does not make sense to administer it in tandem with chemotherapy, since vitamin C is known to be an antioxidant and chemotherapy is a prooxidant. That said, Levine and Drisko’s colleague in Kansas, Qi Chen, have found that when vitamin C is given intravenously, it actually works as a prooxidant because it produces hydrogen peroxide. As such, it actually becomes a very good compliment to chemotherapy. Moreover, studies conducted by Drisko and others have found no evidence of conflict arising as a result of vitamin C dosages given alongside chemotherapy. On the contrary, researchers have reported a synergistic relationship in many cases.

In explaining why this is so, Drisko noted that when vitamin C is injected into a vein, it takes on the form of an ascorbyl radical, which she described as a “very promiscuous and active molecule that likes to interact with transition metals” like copper and iron. These interactions lead to the formation of hydrogen peroxide, which is quickly turned into water and oxygen by the enzymes glutathione peroxidase and catalase, such that levels of hydrogen peroxide in the bloodstream are promptly rendered as unmeasurable.

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However, when vitamin C gets into the extracellular fluid it also becomes hydrogen peroxide. The difference in this case is that glutathione peroxidase and catalase do not intervene and the hydrogen peroxide is not broken down into water and oxygen. Instead, the hydrogen peroxide diffuses throughout the extracellular fluid, bathing the cells.

While the presence of hydrogen peroxide in the cells might seem unsafe, Levine’s cell culture tests have found that hydrogen peroxide caused harm only to cancer cells. In reporting his results, Levine explained that the glutathione peroxidase and catalase enzymes are not as efficient in attacking cancer cells because they direct their activity towards reproduction rather than other processes. The fact that glutathione peroxidase and catalase are not active in the extracellular fluid renders vitamin C as a pro-drug and hydrogen peroxide as an actual drug.


Drisko’s research portfolio on the use of intravenous vitamin C includes the first randomized controlled trial involving ovarian cancer patients, work that was published in 2014. The trial studied two groups of patients: one group received standard care, which included carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for six cycles. The other group received this same care along with 75 to 100 gram doses of intravenous vitamin C.

The trial made clear that this form and dosage of vitamin C therapy is safe to administer. It also yielded a statistically significant improvement in how certain types of patients felt during their cancer treatment. Drisko called this a “feel good effect” which she believes is neurological. This same impact, however, was not observed in patients suffering from more advanced stage three and stage four cancers. Drisko is currently following up on these results by looking at the role that vitamin C might play in brain chemistry.

While her work has generated positive results, Drisko is also aware that vitamin C should not be used in all cases. Importantly, vitamin C is known to be potentially harmful when given in large doses under certain conditions. One such case is in individuals suffering from a deficiency of Glucose-6-Phosphate Dehydrogenase, or G6PD. On its own, G6PD can cause anemia, but when combined with high levels of vitamin C it leads to hemolysis, or the destruction of red blood cells. As a matter of standard protocol, Drisko checks her own patients for G6PD deficiencies, but she knows of others who have been unaware of this biological conflict and who have had to send patients to the emergency room.

Drisko will likewise opt against administering intravenous vitamin C when a patient reports a history of oxalate kidney stones, which can form as a result of excessive vitamin C intake. For individuals who have gone ten years or more since their last instance of oxalate kidney stones, Drisko administers vitamin C, but she does so cautiously, monitoring kidney functions and liver enzymes throughout the process.


Another barrier to studying intravenous vitamin C is that it is a difficult substance to measure since it is processed by the body so quickly. To get around this difficulty, Drisko developed a finger stick method that emerged from her interactions with a diabetic ovarian cancer patient. Over the course of these interactions, Drisko found cause to contact a glucometer manufacturer who told her that, because vitamin C and glucose molecules are so similar, the glucometer would indicate levels of both. Making use of this similarity, Drisko started taking finger stick glucose readings both before and right after her patients received their doses, and using this process she is now able to ascertain a rough estimate of how much vitamin C has been absorbed by the body.


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Qi Chen

In attempting to achieve greater certainty about appropriate dosage levels of vitamin C to administer, Qi Chen and Mark Levine have conducted experiments wherein they give intravenous vitamin C to mice and rats with tumors. This work is a follow-up to Levine’s original studies in the 1990s, which showed that vitamin C given orally could not be absorbed above a 10 millimolar concentration. In their more recent invesigations, Levine and Chen have found that blood concentration levels of 20 to 30 millimolar can be achieved as a result of intravenous application. They also found that the tumors in their mice studies would take up the vitamin C and that hydrogen peroxide formed in the tumors and subcutaneous tissue, but not in the blood.

Drisko gives her patients two to three infusions of vitamin C per week in advanced cases. Ideally, the vitamin C would be administered as the fluid loading dose for chemotherapeutic drugs, but it is often difficult to carry out both vitamin C and chemotherapy treatments on the same day because patients are already burdened by a busy treatment schedule and the facilities providing the two types of treatments are often not in the same location. (A new dosing device that attaches to the hip, developed by Channing J. Paller at Johns Hopkins, could help to get around some of these barriers.) Drisko’s treatment schedule uses a “stair-step” methodology wherein doses ranging from 0 to 100 grams are able to achieve 20 millimolar blood concentrations.

The appropriate duration of vitamin C treatment for cancer is still an open question. What is known is that it takes at least a couple of months before effects start to show. This stands in stark contrast to chemotherapy, which makes a much quicker impact.


Drisko concluded her talk by sharing the hopeful story of a woman who had participated in her ovarian cancer trial. This patient had been part of the group that had received the standard chemotherapy treatment only. She had subsequently relapsed very quickly and was believed to have only months to live. In her conversations with Drisko, the patient expressed a strong desire to live long enough to give her grandson a present at Christmas, and she requested that Drisko give her vitamin C in addition to her chemotherapy, since she was no longer part of the trial.

Initial CT-PET images showed that the woman was suffering from an accumulation of fluid, or ascites, full of cancer cells that were pushing against her organs. At the start of her intravenous vitamin C treatment in 2004, a second CT-PET scan showed both the malignant ascites as well as a residual tumor that could not be removed surgically.

Subsequent scans after Drisko began her treatment showed gradual improvement. In 2007, the pictures included fewer ascites and the tumor was somewhat smaller, trends that continued to be seen in 2012. By 2014, calcification appeared in the tumor and around the fluid, with further calcification showing in 2015. In essence, what the scans were revealing was an eight-year process of “turning her cancer into a scar.” While this is only a single example, it is a powerful one, and may prove to be harbinger of medical breakthroughs to come.

Intravenous Vitamin C: The Historical Progression

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Jeanne Drisko

[Part 1 of 2]

Jeanne Drisko, MD, Director of Integrative Medicine at the University of Kansas Medical Center, Kansas City, was a featured speaker during the public session of the Linus Pauling Institute’s Diet and Optimum Health Conference, held September 13-16, 2017.  She delivered a public lecture titled “Intravenous vitamin C and cancer treatment: Does it work?” Dr. Maret Traber, a principal investigator at LPI, introduced Drisko, describing her as a “leading expert on intravenous vitamin C.”

Drisko began her talk by tracing the history of vitamin C research, noting the ways in which previous studies had made her own research possible. The first person Drisko spoke of was Nobel laureate Albert Szent-Gyӧrgyi (1893-1986), who isolated ascorbic acid while working at Cambridge University and the Mayo Foundation between 1927 and 1930. Drisko then pointed out that, in the 1940s, vitamin C was used widely in clinical settings to treat pertussis, or whooping cough, along with other bacterial and viral infections. Importantly, these treatments were not administered orally. At the time, pharmaceutical preparations of vitamin C were not of a quality that could be administered intravenously, so they was injected into the muscles.

The use of vaccines was also on the rise during this period and Drisko pointed out that the development of the polio vaccine was particularly connected to the clinical fate of vitamin C. Albert Sabin (1906-1993), who had developed an oral polio vaccine, also carried out trials on the effects of vitamin C injections on primates. Sabin found no benefit and suggested that focus turn toward vaccines instead. It was at this point, Drisko explained, that the use of vitamin C injections went “underground,” drifting well outside of the medical mainstream.

One individual who remained interested in the promise of vitamin C was Frederick Klenner (1907-1984), who began using intravenous ascorbic acid at his North Carolina clinic in the 1940s. Drisko described Klenner as keeping “vitamin C use alive,” by administering both muscular and intravenous injections, while the broader medical community turned elsewhere. In particular, Klenner used vitamin C to treat children suffering from polio and found that even advanced cases could be approached successfully. During this time, Klenner also trained other practitioners in the methods that he was pioneering at his clinic.


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Ewan Cameron, Ava Helen and Linus Pauling. Glasgow, Scotland, October 1976.

Next, Drisko turned to Linus Pauling. To begin, Drisko noted that since Pauling was already well known, his interest in oral vitamin C was written off by many who were familiar with his prior work. Others, however, did look to Pauling as an authority, and among them was the Scottish surgeon Ewan Cameron (1922-1991), who contacted Pauling after reading some of his papers in the early 1970s. In his initial correspondence, Cameron informed Pauling that he had been giving about ten grams of vitamin C to cancer patients and had observed that they tended to live longer. As a result of their shared interest, Pauling and Cameron decided to collaborate on a series of papers investigating the potential clinical import of large doses of vitamin C.

As they delved deeper into this work, Pauling became convinced of the need to carry out more rigorous trials. Lacking the funds to do so, he instead turned to the National Institutes of Health. Fatefully for Pauling, Charles Moertel (1927-1994), an oncologist at the Mayo Clinic who was eager to debunk the effectiveness of vitamin C, agreed to lead the NIH investigation. Specifically, Moertel carried out a double-blind placebo-controlled trial in which ten grams of vitamin C were administered orally, and he found no benefit. (He was not aware that Cameron had been injecting vitamin C intravenously.) Moertel published his results in the New England Journal of Medicine and the press picked it up. Once the negative conclusion had been widely circulated, subsequent mainstream interest in the medical application of vitamin C suffered a near fatal blow.


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Mark Levine

Research on intravenous vitamin C began to re-emerge during the 1990s, led in part by NIH scientist Mark Levine. Levine’s nutrition experiments were novel, and did not emerge from the types of medical training that he could have been expected to received. For context, Drisko described her own education, wherein courses on nutrition were optional and held on Saturday mornings. She attended them because she was interested, but she also went along with the convention of the time; one emphasizing that nutrition was of lesser importance relative to other aspects of medical practice.

Levine, on the other hand, did not follow this line and decided to study vitamin C in depth. In the trials that he carried out at the National Institutes of Health, Levine tracked patients deprived of vitamin C and showed that they had indeed become vitamin C deficient. He followed this by administering oral doses of vitamin C, which demonstrated repletion. At the end of his trial, Levine also administered one gram of vitamin C intravenously. He was not allowed to administer a higher dose to his subjects, due to fears of toxicity, but it was his guess that ten gram doses would yield peak blood levels of vitamin C.

Ultimately, Levine demonstrated that oral vitamin C was not capable of yielding maximal vitamin C blood levels, because the body does not absorb oral doses well and excretes it very quickly. Intravenous administration, on the other hand, bypassed these metabolic processes, leading to higher blood levels. With Levine’s work in mind, Drisko summarized the difference between Cameron’s research and Moertel’s Mayo Clinic trial: “Cameron gave a drug and the Mayo Clinic gave a vitamin.”


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Hugh Riordan

Drisko’s mentor, Hugh Riordan (1932-2005), was another individual responsible for keeping vitamin C research alive. The founder of what is now known as the Riordan Clinic in Wichita, Kansas, Riordan belonged to a group of orthomolecular physicians who saw vitamins as providing restoration of a healthy baseline in all humans.

After Levine published his paper on vitamin C absorption, Riordan went to visit him in Maryland to convince him to continue following this path of inquiry. The two ultimately collaborated on several case studies and welcomed others into their fold, a progression that helped incubate today’s group of researchers investigating the use of intravenous vitamin C.

As of 2016, the intravenous vitamin C group included Qi Chen, who works on basic research at the University of Kansas with Drisko; John Hoffer at McGill University, who explores the effects of high doses of vitamin C on cancer; Garry Buettner and Joseph Cullen at the University of Iowa, who looks at the redox capacity of vitamin C in patients undergoing radiation therapy; and Ramesh Natarajan at Virginia Commonwealth University, who is researching the use of vitamin C in the treatment of sepsis.

Drisko noted that there are differences in the lines of research followed within the current group. On the one hand, her cancer trials use megadoses of vitamin C at 75 to 100 grams. Natarajan, on the other hand, only uses 4 or 5 grams in the ICU for sepsis.  For Drisko, these differences emphasize that there is still a lot of research to be done to understand exactly what is going on.


At present, attitudes toward vitamin C within the medical community can be mostly lumped into two categories. One is comprised of “early adopters,” as Drisko defines herself, who continue to carry out research to refine vitamin C treatments. The other consists of those who adhere more closely to the conclusions of the Moertel study, and who thus believe that claims supporting the effectiveness of vitamin C have been disproven. The distance between these two groups was characterized by Drisko as a “gulf of disapproval.”

However, current trends suggest that the gulf is being bridged. While some state medical boards still restrict the therapeutic use of vitamin C, Drisko and others have succeeded in garnering increasing levels of support from both colleagues and institutions. Shifts in funding opportunities are also beginning to emerge: though Drisko was unable to secure federal dollars for her work on ovarian cancer, the Gateway for Cancer Research non-profit stepped in to provide crucial support. With evidence of the efficacy of the treatment building from a growing number of trials, the possibility of obtaining federal grants is becoming more realistic. Likewise, drug companies are now looking at ways to patent vitamin C therapy, and some vitamin C treatment patients have succeeded in receiving reimbursement from their insurance companies.

Next week, we will provide an overview of the science underlying this renewal in optimism about the potential to fight disease with intravenous ascorbic acid.

Pauling’s OAC: Completing the Freshman Year

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President William Jasper Kerr speaks to members of the Students’ Army Training Corps, as assembled near the OAC bandstand, 1918.

[Part 4 of 4 in our series examining the Oregon Agricultural College that Linus Pauling knew during his freshman year, 1917-1918. Fall 2017 marks the 100th anniversary of Pauling’s enrollment at his undergraduate alma mater, known today as Oregon State University.]

Linus Pauling’s freshman year at Oregon Agricultural was spiced up a bit by a little administrative drama. Beloved OAC President William Jasper Kerr, who been appointed ten years prior in 1907, was being courted by Kansas Agricultural College, at that point the largest “aggie school” in the United States. An “insistent” Kansas board of higher education offered Dr. Kerr the presidency of KAC and a salary of $9,000 per year, compensation far beyond anything that OAC could propose.

The Kansas offer was met with heartfelt concern from OAC’s students, one of whom stated in a Barometer article that “every friend of the College hopes the President may decline the offer.” Of this moment, Pauling later recalled

Directly after I arrived in Corvallis, in the fall of 1917, there was a big rally with a couple of thousand of students marching down to the President’s House, singing songs that had been made up for the occasion, urging him to stay here instead of going to Kansas State College, in Manhattan, Kansas….that was one of my memories of one of the exciting events during my first year.

In December, the campus shared a collective sigh of relief when it became public that Kerr had decided to stay. Speculating about this turn of events, The Barometer suggested that “President Kerr’s decision seems to have been made chiefly on the grounds of the splendid opportunities afforded in Oregon through the cooperation of the able and united forces that have supported his administration.”

Kerr’s presidency would continue for another fifteen years, coming to a close only upon his acceptance of the position of Chancellor of the Oregon State System of Higher Education. His leadership was key to the success of OAC, which grew significantly during his years of service.


Pauling at track practice, Bell Field, Oregon Agricultural College. 1917.

Pauling hurdling at Bell Field during his short-lived track career, 1918.

Pauling came away from his first semester of college with five A’s, two B’s, and a D in Mechanical Drawing. (Of Pauling’s one notably poor mark during the term, biographer Tom Hager writes, “he wasn’t patient enough to let the ink dry on his work, Pauling remembered, and kept smudging it.”)

Spring semester for Pauling revolved around a heavy course load that included Integral Calculus, Descriptive Geology, French, and Qualitative Analysis. It was during this semester that he also received his only failing letter grade, the product of an unsuccessful attempt to circumvent the physical education requirement by joining the school track team. His try-out was, evidently, a mess, and he did not make the team. Once this gambit had failed, Pauling chose not to return to the Gym class in which he was enrolled, as his course load was proving to be quite heavy. (He took, and passed, the required class later on during his OAC career.)

Though encumbered by significant responsibilities outside of the classroom – including the lack of a permanent address and the need to work multiple jobs to make ends meet – Pauling completed his first year with seven A’s, one B, and two C’s – one in Descriptive Geometry and the other in Camp Cookery. The grade scale that OAC used at the time included a letter grade “E,” meaning that OAC marks of B, C and D were comparable to contemporary grades of A-, B+, and B-. As such, Pauling’s freshman academic record was really quite superb, both within his major and across the military and liberal arts courses that were required of him.

As Pauling’s academic excellence mounted, so too did the invitations to join a number of honor societies. By the time of his graduation in 1922, Pauling was a member of the Scabbard and Blade military honorary, and had served as secretary of the Sigma Tau engineering honor society, treasurer of the Chemical Engineering Association, and president of the Chi Epsilon civil engineering honor society.


 

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Two OAC classes battle in the tug of war, 1912. The competition was often held at the nearby millrace, with the losing class obliged to take a dip.

Socially, the 1917 school year broadly conformed to the calendars that had defined previous years, though a few changes were necessitated by World War I, particularly during spring semester 1918.

Because a significant portion of the men in the junior and senior class had left campus for Officers’ Training Camp, springtime saw a premature rendition of Junior Weekend. The commencing affair was “Junior Flunk Day,” while other happenings included the “Fresh-Soph Tug-of-War.” Pauling’s class, the freshmen, won this display of strength and, after watching this apparent disgrace, the juniors challenged the seniors and won. Junior Prom followed the tug-of-war and was treated as a sendoff for the young men leaving for the European theater. Previously a formal event, the conditions brought about by war rendered the 1918 Junior Prom more of an informal affair.

Outside of socializing on campus at dances and club events, students in Corvallis often entertained themselves with a night out. Popular activities included seeing movies at the Majestic Theater and ending the night with ice cream at Winkley’s Creamery. Another hot spot for spending time and grabbing a bite to eat was Andrews & Kerr, which served “Hooverized” waffles and offered a location where “seniors enjoyed high jinks.” Pauling was fond of A&K’s and frequented it when he could afford to, especially after seeing a show downtown.

The concluding social activities of the year transpired during Graduation Week and consisted primarily of events tailored to the graduating class. One notable highlight was the Senior Picnic Breakfast at A&K’s, complete with “bacon, coffee, oranges, eggs, buns, and doughnuts.” Other events included the dedication of the class monument and, as post-commencement exercises, an Alumni Ball and Banquet.

Overall, the 1917-1918 school year at Oregon Agricultural College was an eventful and productive one, if shadowed throughout by the specter of war across the Atlantic. The OAC to which Pauling had been introduced was a varied and multifaceted institution, buoyed by an enthusiasm for shaping students into engaged, innovative, and community-oriented citizens. These principles and this spirit left a mark on Linus Pauling, just as he made an impact on the college and, later, the world.

Rook Life

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Pauling outside his boarding house, first term of his freshman year at OAC.

[Part 3 of 4 in our examination of the Oregon Agricultural College that Linus Pauling came to know during his freshman year. Fall 2017 marks the one-hundredth anniversary of Pauling’s enrollment at OAC, known today as Oregon State University.]

Each year, students arrived from around the state, country, and abroad to attend Oregon Agricultural College. For the 1917-18 school year, OAC boasted a student body of over 4,00 men and women. Long requested by the student body, the number of college personnel also began to rise that year, with totals nearing 200 faculty members. And despite the onset of American involvement in World War I during the previous spring, OAC’s fall 1917 registration was its largest ever. Contributing to this was the fact that more women had enrolled for the 1917-18 school year than had ever previously been the case at the college.

One member of this large first-year class was a sixteen-year-old Portland resident, Linus Pauling. Once arrived in Corvallis, Pauling, in his diary, described his living situation, a boarding house close to campus, noting that “I have a nice big room, much larger than two boys usually have. I will share it with a sophomore named Murhard.” He likewise recorded these observations of two other young men sharing a room in the same house

they are two rooks; one, a 20 yr. old talkative fellow, named Hofman, weight 175# and always talks about his girl, Millicent, nicknamed “Titter.” The other, Henry, is a very quiet, small young man, but slightly deaf.  He will take Commerce, and Hofman will take Forestry.

Pauling left the boarding house after Fall semester and, because he was unable to find a permanent place of residence, he often wound up staying with friends during the Spring. Viewed through a modern lense, it would not be a stretch to say that Pauling was effectively homeless for this period of his studies at OAC.


Early on, Pauling expressed a great deal of insecurity in his potential to excel at the college. It did not take very long, however, before he discovered that his merit in academics had very clearly carried over from his high achieving ways in high school.

During the fall semester, Pauling registered for a typical collection of first-year classes, including Modern English Prose, Drill, and Gym. In addition, he began working through the core curriculum for Chemical Engineering majors, taking courses like General Chemistry, Mining Industry, and Calculus.

As he moved forward through his coursework, Pauling found that his high school education, though incomplete – he had not taken a required history class and did not graduate from Washington High School – was more than satisfactory. So pleased was he by the preparation that he had received for college, that he wrote a letter thanking his high school math teacher, Virgil Earl, for having done an exceptional job.

Earl replied to Pauling with gratitude and encouraging words, saying, “you have the ability and the disposition to work so I feel sure that you will succeed in your chosen work.” Earl’s point of view would soon be reflected by waves of praise and admiration extended by many of Pauling’s OAC professors.


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Pauling wearing his “rook lid,” ca. 1917.

Student functions played an outsized role in the undergraduate experience at Oregon Agricultural College. Activities and meetings were held each week and larger gatherings, such as dances, were hosted with great frequency.

Socially, the school year was underway once the YWCA-YMCA welcome reception had been hosted. This event, which was basically a dance, was put on by the two clubs to familiarize first-year students with the social dynamic of their new home. The 1917 welcome dance took place in the Men’s Gym (now Langton Hall) where the College president, William Jasper Kerr, kicked off festivities by addressing the assembled student population. The rest of October saw Mask and Dagger theatrical auditions, a senior reception held for the “frosh,” and an informal band dance. Class and student body elections also took place at the end of October.

In addition to cultivating a culture of of student involvement, the college did its best to stoke long-running social traditions. Pauling took these rituals seriously and commented on how they had strengthened his school spirit. By the end of his first month in college, he noted in his diary that “I am getting along alright. Have lots of beaver pep.”


burning-green

The Burning of the Green, 1925.

Central to many of these traditions was one’s class standing. First-year students were colloquially called “rooks” and “rookesses,” and were made to wear green caps (for men) or ribbons (for women) to denote their status. At the end of the year, students burned their “frosh” paraphernalia in a bonfire held just south of the Women’s Gymnasium.

Beyond hats and ribbons, amicable competitions and friendly rivalries between grade levels was an aspect of life at OAC which continued year round. Many of these events were staged during Homecoming, which took place annually during a fall weekend and focused intently on the college’s athletic teams as well as class rivalries. Sophomores and freshmen went head to head in both a bag rush and a football game, while all class levels participated in a three mile cross-country race. Intercollegiate sporting events during the 1917 Homecoming weekend included a soccer game between OAC and the University of Oregon, which O.A.C won, as well as a 6-0 home loss in football to Washington State College.

bag-rush

The 1914 OAC Freshman-Sophomore Bag Rush.

The culminating event of the weekend was Sunday’s open house, during which undergraduates met and talked with alumni who had returned to campus. Of this experience the Beaver yearbook recounted, “all in all, it was a great success and the old fireplaces again welcomed familiar faces, and the undergraduates listened to stories of the ‘Good Old Times.'”

Another annual happening, The Co-Ed Ball, was held solely for the women of the college. Unsurprising, given the rising number of women attending OAC, 1917’s Co-Ed Ball was the largest in school history, with “four hundred women being present.” The supervisors of this specific occasion included Mary Fawcett, the Dean of Women, and Ida Kidder, the college’s beloved librarian, known to many as “Mother Kidder.”

stunt-show

Performers in the Women’s Stunt Show, 1925.

The women of the College also sponsored the “Women’s Stunt Show,” for which every women’s organization on campus prepared and performed a skit. In addition to competing for a trophy, the Fawcett Cup, the ultimate goal of the Stunt Show was to raise funds. The 1917 edition succeeded on this front as a total of $400 was collected, with $200 apportioned to the YWCA.

In December, as the end of the term neared, the Intercollegiate Oratorical and Debate Society won its Annual Dual Debate against the University of Oregon. Other notable winter events included two Mask and Dagger shows: “Why the Chimes Rang” and “The Magistrate.” The Military Ball and the Interfraternity Informal rounded out a busy fall calendar for Linus Pauling and his fellow students at Oregon’s land grant college.

Study and Social Life at the Oregon Agricultural College

chemistry-lab

OAC students in the Chemistry Lab, 1916. Note the student in military dress – during Linus Pauling’s undergraduate tenure, two years of ROTC were required of all males enrolled at the College.

[Post 2 of 4 examining Oregon Agricultural College during the years contemporary to Linus Pauling’s studies there as an undergraduate. These posts have been written in celebration of the centenary anniversary of Pauling’s enrollment at OAC (now Oregon State University) in Fall 1917.]

In 1908, Oregon Agricultural College adopted a semester system, which remained in place until the quarter system was reinstated in 1919. To graduate with a degree, 136 credits were required, and though an OAC student could not major in any liberal arts discipline at the time, all four-year degrees did require classes in the liberal arts. Linus Pauling fulfilled this requirement largely through foreign language study, taking coursework in French and German throughout his time at OAC. In addition, all students were required to take a gym class as well as an additional class in “Hygiene.”

As a Land Grant school, OAC offered a rich and varied curriculum that offered opportunities for both degree-seeking students as well as those wishing to bolster their practical skill through shorter vocational courses. The College was organized into seven schools: Agriculture, Commerce, Engineering, Forestry, Home Economics, Mining, and Pharmacy. The College also offered an affiliated but financially self-supporting School of Music, which was created at the behest of OAC students in 1908.

Some of OAC’s schools offered a wide breadth of options for their majors while others, such as Pharmacy, focused on a sole course of study. In the main, however, the variety of classes offered for students in most disciplines was staggering. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this was especially true of Agriculture, which offered seventeen “areas of specialty,” or majors. Included were emphases in Animal Husbandry, Bacteriology (the forerunner to modern-day Biology), Botany and Plant Pathology, Farm Mechanics (now Bioengineering), Soils and Farm Management, and Zoology.

Engineering was another popular course of study, perhaps second only to Agriculture, at least among male students. Within the School of Engineering, majors included Civil Engineering, Electrical Engineering, Highway Engineering, Industrial Arts, Irrigation Engineering, and Mechanical Engineering. In addition, other Schools offered engineering-centric degrees that pertained to their respective fields. For example, the School of Forestry advertised a degree in Logging Engineering and the School of Mines housed both the Mining Engineering degree as well as the Chemical Engineering curriculum.

Linus Pauling entered OAC with a particularly keen interest in chemistry, but he could not major in the discipline as, per state edict, the only School of Science operating at the time was located at the University of Oregon. Instead, Pauling chose the next best option, chemical engineering, as administered by the School of Mines. As he began his introductory coursework, Pauling may have found the classroom to be a bit more crowded than did previous first-term freshmen — the OAC Barometer, reporting on a bump in Engineering majors, hypothesized an invigorated interest “due to the demand for engineers in military service.”


practice-house

OAC Home Economics students posing with children outside of the Withycombe “practice house.”

Women at the college predominately gravitated towards Home Economics, though a smaller number sought out degrees within the School of Commerce, majoring, more often than not, in Secretarial Studies. The School of Home Economics was organized into four degree paths: Domestic Art, Domestic Science, Home Administration, and Institutional Management. Specific Home Economics courses included Home Nursing, Sanitation of the Home, Dress Making, and Costume Design. The school also offered a year-long vocational course to men in Camp Cookery.

For additional scholastic development, women seeking degrees could hone their domestic skills in the college’s “practice house.” Opened in 1916, the Withycombe House was made available to interested Home Economics students who lived in the building for two months at a time, rotating through a variety of assigned duties during that time.

As mandated by the Morrill Act of 1862, men attending the College – including those enrolled in shorter vocational courses – were required to participate in military training. A ROTC program was officially established in 1917, Pauling’s freshman year, replacing the Cadet Corps that had existed previously. By the time that ROTC was implemented, the military organization at the College consisted of “one regiment of infantry, a hospital corps, signal corps detachment, and a band of fifty instruments.” Heading into 1918, as the U.S. ramped up its involvement in the Great War, OAC became a military hub of consequence for the state of Oregon, a scenario that repeated itself in the early 1940s.


shepard-hall

The pool housed in the basement of Shepard Hall, home to OAC’s YWCA operations.

Beyond scholarly inquiry and military training, the College strongly encouraged student involvement in extracurricular activities. This sentiment was echoed in advice that Pauling transcribed into his diary before he started college, wherein it was suggested that he “not take a number of extra [class] hours, but should try to do something for the school.”

OAC promoted a vibrant social environment for its students by fostering the creation and growth of student clubs and organizations. Most prominently, OAC was home to a number of Greek letter societies – one of which Pauling joined during his sophomore year – and other living organizations. Each dormitory and department as well as, in certain cases, specific majors, also sponsored their own club. As an incoming student studying in the College of Mines, Linus Pauling was naturally a member of the Miner’s Club.

The YMCA and the YWCA were also prominent organizations on campus, holding sway over many areas of campus social life and volunteerism. The YWCA, for example, organized the Campus Auxiliary of the National Red Cross so that the women of the College could fulfill their patriotic duty to “do their bit” in support of the war effort. To provide a base of operations for the YMCA and the YWCA, the College built Shepard Hall, which the two Y-organizations eventually shared with the Student Employment Bureau.

The College also housed organizations such as the Mask and Dagger – responsible for campus theatrical performances – the Oratorical Association, and the Intercollegiate Debate and Oratory organization. Likewise supported were location-based clubs that enabled students to connect with others who hailed from similar geographic backgrounds, especially California and Washington.

Central to the flow of information on campus were student publications, in particular the student newspaper, The Barometer. Published bi-weekly, students could find information in each edition on current events happening within the state and beyond, as well as notices of upcoming activities and meetings at the College. During Pauling’s time, the newspaper also regularly reported on humorous social slights in a column titled “We Have Observed That.”

This same lightheartedness permeated the final pages of the 1919 Beaver Yearbook in a section titled “The Disturber,” in which editorial staff ruthlessly poked fun at Greek letter organizations, other student publications, and the ROTC. While OAC prided itself on maintaining a serious scholastic environment and participated vigorously in the war effort, it is clear that the College’s students, in time-honored fashion, were intent on seeking out fun during their college years.

Through careful consideration and development of infrastructure and community principles, OAC provided a productive and agreeable setting for Oregon’s students to pursue a higher education. From diverse coursework to copious social opportunities, the College “within the vail of western mountains” provided students and professors with ample support to enrich themselves and their communities. These values clearly made an impact on the young Linus Pauling and continued to permeate his world view in the years that followed his departure from Corvallis.

Pauling’s OAC

rooks

OAC rooks running through a large O at Bell Field, 1914.

[Ed Note: Today is the first day of Fall classes here at Oregon State University, and this month also marks the one-hundredth anniversary of Linus Pauling’s enrollment at what was then known as Oregon Agricultural College. Today’s post is part 1 of 4 examining the school that Pauling attended for his undergraduate education as well as the ways in which Pauling navigated life as a “rook” on campus.]

In the fall of 1917, a newcomer to Oregon Agricultural College, such as incoming freshman Linus Pauling, would have encountered a lively student population housed in commanding buildings. This same newcomer would likewise come into contact with a campus bustling with wartime activity and on the cusp of precipitous change.

From humble beginnings, OAC had, by 1917, developed into an institution admired by the bulk of Oregon’s residents — even those supporting the College’s rival, forty-five miles to the south. The College, by now steeped in the Land Grant tradition that had energized state schools across the country, sought to educate students, conduct research and, importantly, foster a connection with Oregon’s communities.

By the time that Pauling arrived, the campus infrastructure consisted of 349 acres, 91 of them constituting the main campus. The remaining acreage, located just outside the Corvallis city limits, formed areas for studying and maintaining livestock, poultry, and horticulture. At the time, the community boasted of 6,000 residents, “free mail delivery…many churches and no saloons.” Living in a city that derived its name from the Latin for “heart of the valley”, members of the OAC community took great pride in their scenic surroundings.

oac-1911

The OAC campus as it looked in 1911.

During this period, the Administration Building (known now Benton Hall) served as the centerpiece of campus. Funded by the local townspeople as a show of support once OAC had received its federal land grant, the Administration Building was completed in 1889 and still stands today, the oldest building on Oregon State’s campus.

benton

Present-day Benton Hall, 1889.

To accommodate growing numbers of students and faculty, the number of buildings populating OAC’s campus increased each year, with 1917 being no exception. Specifically, the fall of 1917 saw the unveiling of the Forestry Building, now known as Moreland Hall, and its completion brought the total number of buildings on the OAC campus to thirty-six. Other notable structures of the era included the Agriculture Building (now Strand Agricultural Hall)—the largest edifice on campus at the time—the Dairy Building (now Gilkey Hall), the Home Economics Building (now Milam Hall), and Science Hall (present-day Furman Hall), all of which had been constructed in recent years.

The College was clearly growing. And yet, despite these developments, Corvallis remained a rural community in spirit, while Oregon Agricultural College, as the name suggests, was largely agrarian in its focus, with secondary emphasis paid to all manner of practical skill-building.


 

Tuition at Oregon Agricultural College did not exist. Indeed, in a technical sense, the school was free to all, including out of state and international students. That said, there were certain fees dispensed throughout a student’s college experience. Some fees were assessed yearly while others were collected for one-time events, such as graduation.

There were also fees or additional costs associated with particular courses. For example, students were required to purchase “gymnasium suits” for their PE classes, and other fees were mandated for courses incurring laboratory expenses. Between yearly fees, semester fees, and a diploma fee, early twentieth century undergraduates could count on spending at least sixty-one dollars during the time that it took to complete a four-year degree.

With the cost of attendance so low, the principle fiscal concern for students came in the form of room and board costs. Women, who were required to live with family or on campus in either Cauthorn Hall (now Fairbanks Hall) or Waldo Hall, could expect to pay ten to twenty dollars per semester for rooming, depending on whether they chose a single or a double room. Male students, for whom no campus housing was available, could find lodging in private homes for approximately sixteen to twenty dollars a month, culminating in a yearly expense that might approach two-hundred dollars at the high end. Excluding funds for transportation, amusement, and other needs, such as clothing, a year at OAC was estimated to cost men between $346.20 – $401.20, and women $107.00 – $227.00.

Linus Pauling, 1917.

Pauling on campus, 1917

For Linus Pauling, who came from a humble background, finances were a great and continuing concern throughout his first year of college. In the diary that he maintained for much of the year, he meticulously tracked his spending habits in an effort to make every penny count. Before the school year began, he estimated that his expenses would sum to $297. However, by late October – just a month into his first term – he revised his initial approximation, noting

I have spent about $125 already. Board will be $175 more – 300 altogether. Then my numerous expenses will mount up. I do not expect to get off for less than $325.

In its annual catalogs, OAC emphasized that students could earn money for food and housing by working for a few hours every week. More specifically, according to the College, a student could work three hours a day for room expenses and four hours a day to cover both room and board costs. Administrative work and stenography were preferred by students, rendering these jobs in high demand.

To aid in the job searching process, the College provided a Student Employment Bureau. In highlighting this service, the College catalog took pains to stress that “no student should come expecting to earn money if he can do nothing well; skill is essential, as competition is quite severe in the College community as elsewhere.”