Ava Helen, Linus, and the Push for Federal Union

union-now-poster

[Part 3 of 3]

Soon after its publication in 1939, Clarence Streit’s thought-provoking book, Union Now, became a popular topic of discussion nationwide. As we’ve described in the previous two posts, the book proposed the forming of a federal union of democratic republics in order to protect democracy from being overrun by totalitarian dictatorships. Chapters of the Federal Unionist Club were founded in cities across the country at a rapid pace; by 1941, sixty cities had established a local division of the club and many more were in the midst of starting up. In Pasadena, Linus and Ava Helen Pauling joined the city’s chapter of the club, which was dedicated not only to discussion among members, but also to working towards the goals established in Union Now.

Linus and Ava Helen’s decision to join the Federal Unionist Club was made in direct reaction to the events leading up to World War II. Raised in a large and politically engaged family, Ava Helen had seemingly always been a peace activist at heart. As the mother of four children however, Ava’s time for direct involvement was limited, and her membership in the Unionist club marked an important beginning of her public activism.

Linus, on the other hand, could have happily remained a research scientist for the rest of his days. But gradually he came to realize, with his wife’s help, that his scientific work would prove far more worthwhile if it served the public, and his involvement with the unionist cause likewise served as a first step in pursuing this aim.

By the late 1930s, the dynamic between scientists and world affairs had changed in such a way that Linus could not ignore the negative effects of political issues in the world. In particular, as the persecution of Jewish populations became more widespread, Jewish scientists were discharged from their positions and Linus began to receive pleas from Jewish colleagues in Europe, asking about any available positions at Caltech.

In the midst of changing times, Ava encouraged Linus to read Union Now, which he did. Linus quickly found himself coming into agreement with his wife, and concluded that taking action in favor of Streit’s proposal was – at least for the time being – a better option than passivity. In a letter to Professor Arthur Compton of the University of Chicago, Linus wrote that the state of current events was such that “I can not subscribe to such a policy of nonresistance.” Linus and Ava Helen thus became active in the struggle for peace.


The cover of Ava Helen Pauling's Union Now scrapbook.

The cover of Ava Helen Pauling’s Union Now scrapbook.

As members of the Federal Unionist Club, Ava Helen and Linus played various roles. Ava Helen was more directly a leader, serving as the Pasadena chapter’s treasurer and historian. As such, she amassed the club’s financial records and kept track of their budget, which was mostly used to organize public debates and to purchase books and pamphlets summarizing Streit’s proposal. She also created a scrapbook consisting mainly of newspaper clippings that documented a great many club appearances in the press.

For Linus, club membership came with a less active but still important role, at least in the context of his own biography. Since the time of his graduation from Oregon Agricultural College, Pauling had felt the need to fashion his work in service to the general public. As a chemist in the post-World War I era, Linus was aware of the dangers that could arise when science was used for warfare, and thus had intended to stay tuned to events where his knowledge as a scientist could help prevent the use of chemistry for harm.

Now that a second world war loomed on the horizon, Ava Helen’s involvement with and care for the issues being discussed at club events offered Linus the chance to initiate his own involvement in world affairs. As we have pointed out earlier in this series of blog posts, the Pasadena Chapter of the Federal Unionist Club served as a forum for Linus to deliver his first important non-scientific speech, one in which he publicly stated his support for federal union and came prepared to answer questions regarding specific implications of Streit’s proposal.


Map of Clarence Streit's proposed federal union.

Map of Clarence Streit’s proposed federal union.

Though Linus and Ava Helen, in the minds of some, may have appeared to be supporting an unusual idea, Union Now was an unequivocal hit. The book received numerous positive reviews, including one published in The New York Times, which later listed Union Now as a best-seller.

Given its success, it is interesting to note that Clarence Streit had been forced to hold off on publishing Union Now until the eve of World War II. Prior to 1939, publishers had been unwilling to consider any sort of public release of the book – not only did they believe that it would not sell but they also feared that their presses would lose repute if Streit’s political ideas were interpreted as too controversial.

By 1939 however, the immediate threat of war had created an opportunity for the publication of Union Now, and the book was picked up by Harper & Brothers. Later that year, Time Magazine devoted an article to Union Now that suggested that the western world’s failure to accept Streit’s proposal would inevitably bring about war. Clearly his ideas has entered into the mainstream.


union-now-debate

As copies of Union Now continued to be sold at a rapid clip, its proposal grew to be widely and passionately debated. Pamphlets and articles from the period reveal an interesting discursive battle between pro and anti-unionists, each side arguing against the other’s ideals and main proponents.

One prominent anti-unionist, Lillian Scott Troy, published a pamphlet titled “Union Now…Treason!” in which she stated that the true purpose of Union Now was to bring the United States back under British domination. This argument arose partly in the wake of Streit’s second book, Union Now With Britain (1941), in which he suggested that a smooth transition to federal union could begin with a union of Britain and other English-speaking democracies.

Though discredited by some foes as un-American, Federal Unionists thought of themselves as continuing the legacy of the founders of the United States, largely because they intended to extend the tenants of the U.S. Constitution to Britain, rather than bringing the U.S. under British rule. Troy’s arguments, in particular, were easily dismissed by Federal Unionists because of her questionable reputation. An American citizen, Troy had been deported from Britain for allegedly securing the release of Baron Louis von Horst, a convicted German spy.

That is not to say that unionists did not have contentious figures supporting their side. One such individual was Fyke Farmer, a close follower and supporter of the movement who, much like Troy, was surrounded by controversy. A Tennessee lawyer, Farmer came under national scrutiny in 1953 when he decided to defend Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, two Americans who were ultimately executed for treason, having been accused of sharing information about the U.S. nuclear program with the Soviet Union. Like Lillian Troy, Fyke Farmer was considered by his detractors to be a potential threat to the nation.

In spite of the negative press that sometimes appeared, Federal Unionists remained focused on their primary tactics – public discussion and distribution of print materials – to continue spreading the word of Streit’s proposals. This collective effort of Federal Unionist chapters around the country helped to repel the cries of opposition to unionism that sometimes arose.


union-now-colliers

While the public clearly engaged deeply with the viability of the ideas presented in Union Now, the historical record would seem to indicate that the United States federal government, and international governments as well, paid little attention to the proposal. Nevertheless, Linus and Ava Helen’s records relating to the Federal Unionist Club offer unique insight into the beliefs and ideals of a collection of citizens who took action in the hopes that their efforts could change the fate of the nation and the world.

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Pauling on the Homefront: The Development of Oxypolygelatin, Part 2

Dan Campbell and Linus Pauling in a Caltech laboratory, 1943.

Dan Campbell and Linus Pauling in a Caltech laboratory, 1943.

Science cannot be stopped. Man will gather knowledge no matter what the consequences — and we cannot predict what they will be. Science will go on — whether we are pessimistic, or are optimistic, as I am. I know that great, interesting, and valuable discoveries can be made and will be made…But I know also that still more interesting discoveries will be made that I have not the imagination to describe — and I am awaiting them, full of curiosity and enthusiasm.
Linus Pauling, October 15, 1947.

After developing a promising blood plasma substitute during World War II, Pauling found his funding cut and his contract with the Office of Scientific Research and Defense coming to an end. Rather than abandon the project, the Caltech researchers chose to forge ahead.

Frustrated with the lack of progress, Pauling and his team scraped together enough residual funds to allow for one more series of experiments. Pauling began injecting mice and rabbits with his synthetic plasma, carefully monitoring their health and examining blood samples to determine the effects of the treatment. The results were satisfactory but not enough to put the project back in the good graces of the Committee on Medical Research. Pauling knew that the only way to stimulate interest (and funding) for the project was to prove that his substance could be used in humans. In September of 1944, twelve patients at Los Angeles General Hospital were injected with Oxypolygelatin, all exhibiting favorable reactions. Pauling had the results he needed.

Letter from Linus Pauling to B. O. Raulston, September 19, 1944.

Letter from Linus Pauling to B. O. Raulston, September 19, 1944.

Statement of Work Carried Out Under Contract OEMomr-153, 1944.  Page 1.

Statement of Work Carried Out Under Contract OEMomr-153, 1944. Page 1.

Statement of Work Carried Out Under Contract OEMomr-153, 1944.  Page 2.

Statement of Work Carried Out Under Contract OEMomr-153, 1944. Page 2.

In a final effort to save the project, Pauling submitted one last application, noting the success of his experiments with both animal and human patients. To aid his cause, Pauling attempted to find support at the source, sending individual letters to key members of the CMR.

In October of 1944, the CMR responded to his requests for aid, providing a $10,000, nine-month grant. The CMR had previously assured Pauling that the Committee would arrange any necessary physiological tests that could not be completed at Caltech and, upon the renewal of the Oxypolygelatin contract, they reaffirmed this promise.

While Pauling waited for the CMR to complete arrangements for testing, he and his team continued to refine the production process, ironing out wrinkles that had developed in the course of frantic experimentation. During the early months of the Oxypolygelatin program, Pauling had corresponded often with Robert Loeb, a researcher at the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York. In a 1943 letter to Loeb he wrote,

It looks as though our method of preparation is not well enough standardized to give a uniform product – the osmotic pressure varies from preparation to preparation. With some evidence from the ultracentrifuge as to how the distribution in molecular weight is changing, we should be able to improve the method.

The lack of uniformity in the substance was a problem for Pauling and his team. In order to locate the irregularities, the researchers needed results from a series of physiological tests. Unfortunately, the CMR had yet to arrange for the promised tests and Pauling’s grant was about to expire.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Robert Loeb, August 17, 1943.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Robert Loeb, August 17, 1943.

By the spring of 1945, Pauling had virtually given up on the project. He had resigned his post as responsible investigator and allowed Campbell to take his place. With the rest of Caltech still knee deep in war research, Pauling had no trouble finding other projects to attract his attention. As a result, his Oxypolygelatin work was relegated to correspondence with gelatin manufacturers and a few curious scientists. In a letter to Chester Keefer of the Committee on Medical Research, Pauling stated,

I feel that the development of Oxypolygelatin has been delayed by a full twelve months by the failure of the CMR to arrange for the physiological testing of the preparation, despite the assurances to me, beginning July 24, 1943, that this testing would be carried out under CMR arrangement. I feel that I myself am also to blame, for having continued to rely upon the CMR, long after it should have been clear to me that the promised action was not being taken and presumably would not be taken.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 1.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 1.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 2.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 2.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 3.

Letter from Linus Pauling to Chester Keefer, March 12, 1945. Page 3.

The project was dead. The CMR had lost interest and no lab in the country was either willing to or capable of performing the tests Pauling required. Even worse for the project, Germany was on the brink of surrender and Japan was losing ground in the Pacific; the war would be over soon and with victory would come the closure of war research programs all over the country.

The team quietly disbanded, each member returning to old projects or starting up fresh lines of research. In 1946, Pauling, Koepfli and Campbell filed for a patent for Oxypolygelatin and its manufacturing process which they immediately transferred to the California Institute Research Foundation.

Oxypolygelatin patent agreement, December 4, 1946.

Oxypoly-gelatin patent agreement, December 4, 1946.

In 1947, the American Association of Blood Banks was founded and in 1948 the American National Red Cross began widespread blood donation campaigns. The genesis of the two programs allowed for large supplies of fresh blood to be dispersed throughout U.S. hospitals on a regular basis, virtually eliminating the need for a plasma substitute during peacetime.

While Pauling was the source of many scientific breakthroughs during his career, in the end Oxypolygelatin was a failed project. Over the following years, he would occasionally discuss his blood plasma work with an interested scientist or mention it at a symposium address, but he never returned to the Oxypolygelatin problem.

For more information on Pauling’s Oxypolygelatin research, read his 1949 project report or view this 1974 letter regarding the development of Oxypolygelatin production in China. For additional Pauling content, visit Linus Pauling: It’s in the Blood! or the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Blood and War: The Development of Oxypolygelatin, Part 1

An original container of 5% Oxypolygelatin in normal saline. Developed by Linus Pauling as part of his scientific war work research program, mid-1940s.

An original container of 5% Oxypolygelatin in normal saline.

On the basis of the information available to me, I have formed the opinion that oxypolygelatin solution…may well be a thoroughly satisfactory blood substitute, which could be manufactured cheaply in large quantities. It is probably superior to gelatin itself with respect to fluidity of solution, retention in blood stream, and osmotic pressure.”
Linus Pauling, March 14, 1944

In 1941 Linus Pauling began a limited program of study on bovine and human γ-globulin, a project stemming from his interest in the manufacture of antibodies. Pauling initiated experimentation with the preparation of antisera – blood sera containing defensive antibodies – and in the process quickly became an authority on the chemistry of human blood and hemoglobin. Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and subsequent U.S. entrance into World War II, the federal government issued a national call for research with wartime applications. Thanks to his ongoing immunological work, Pauling was already a step ahead of his fellow scientists.

In April 1942, Pauling submitted a contract proposal to the Committee on Medical Research (CMR) of the Office of Scientific Research and Development (OSRD). Entitled “The Chemical Treatment of Protein Solutions in the Attempt to Find a Substitute for Human Serum for Transfusions,” the proposal outlined a plan to develop a gelatin-based substance which could be used as a plasma substitute. The project, if successful, would produce a synthetic material that would take the place of donated human blood plasma in transfusions, aiding Allied soldiers when America’s peacetime blood reserves ran low.

The Committee on Medical Research accepted Pauling’s proposal and within two weeks Pauling had assembled a group of researchers, including doctors J.B. Koepfli and Dan Campbell, an immunology expert. After securing materials from Edward Cohn and other American-based scientists, the team was ready to begin.

Linus Pauling to A.N. Richards, May 12, 1942

Linus Pauling to A.N. Richards, May 12, 1942

Linus Pauling to Edward Cohn, May 21, 1942, page 1.

Linus Pauling to Edward Cohn, May 21, 1942, page 1.

Linus Pauling to Edward Cohn, May 21, 1942, page 2.

Linus Pauling to Edward Cohn, May 21, 1942, page 2.

Pauling’s idea for a plasma substitute was not an unfamiliar one. Gelatin was already in use as a plasma replica during the late 1930s and early 1940s, but its viscosity and tendency to gel at room temperature made it a poor candidate. The U.S. military needed something quick and efficient that could be used in field hospitals with minimal preparation. The Caltech team, however, was not yet ready to discard gelatin as a potential candidate. Pauling hoped that, through chemical processes, he might be able to transform standard commercial-grade gelatin into a workable substance.

Between June 1942 and May 1944, Caltech received approximately $20,000 from the CMR in support of the project. During that time, Pauling and his team were able to successfully develop a possible plasma substitute through the polymerization and oxidation of gelatin.

the production of oxypolygelatin, July 23, 1943.

Notes by Linus Pauling re: the production of oxypolygelatin, July 23, 1943.

This substance, first referred to as polyoxy gelatin and eventually known as Oxypolygelatin, was superior to its unmodified counterpart in several ways. Because it was a liquid at room temperature, Oxypolygelatin did not require the same pre-injection heating that previous substitutes required, allowing it to be used quickly and without the help of heating implements. Furthermore, thanks to the creation of large chain-like molecules during the preparation process, oxypolygelatin was retained in the bloodstream for longer periods, allowing the patient’s body more time to manufacture natural plasma. Finally, where gelatin contained pyrogens (fever-causing substances), Oxypolygelatin did not – a property that was due to the addition of hydrogen peroxide, a substance capable of destroying pyrogens.

To a chemist’s eye, Oxypolygelatin appeared to be an acceptable substitute for human plasma. Unfortunately, Pauling knew his own tests were not enough to convince the CMR of the substance’s viability. What he really needed was a medical expert’s stamp of approval. Pauling called on Dr. Thomas Addis – a kidney expert whom history now credits with curing Pauling’s near-fatal case of glomerular nephritis – to analyze the effects of Oxypolygelatin on human organs. Addis accepted the challenge, bringing fellow researcher Dr. Jean Oliver to the project as well. Over the next two years, Addis and Oliver would subject Oxypolygelatin to a battery of tests, eventually confirming its potential as a plasma substitute.

Despite Pauling’s enthusiasm and Addis’ promising results, the CMR did not believe Oxypolygelatin to be sufficiently superior to the pre-existing gelatin substance and, in the spring of 1944, the committee refused Pauling’s request for a renewal of contract. Surprised by the committee’s decision, he submitted a second request, asking that his contract be renewed for the period of four months, with no additional funding from the OSRD. His request was granted but, due to empty coffers, no progress was made. Pauling applied again in June, this time requesting extra resources for the project. Again, he was denied.

Linus Pauling to A.N. Richards, June 14, 1944.

Linus Pauling to A.N. Richards, June 14, 1944.

The future of Oxypolygelatin research looked bleak, but Pauling and his team refused to abandon the project. Instead, they began making preparations for one final assault on the problem.

Please check back on Thursday for the conclusion to this series. In the meantime, for more information on Pauling’s Oxypolygelatin research, read his 1949 project report or view this 1974 letter regarding the development of Oxypolygelatin production in China.  For additional Pauling content, visit Linus Pauling: It’s in the Blood! or the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Pauling in the ROTC

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ROTC Cadet Linus C. Pauling, 1918.

As most of our readers are no doubt aware, this past Tuesday was Veterans’ Day in the U.S. and Remembrance Day in many other parts of the world.  In honor of this global occasion, we thought it appropriate to discuss a component of Linus Pauling’s story that may come as a surprise to many — his involvement in the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps.

At the time of Pauling’s arrival in Corvallis for the beginning of his studies at Oregon Agricultural College, two years of ROTC service were required of all male students physically-able to participate.

[Indeed, compulsory ROTC remained a feature of university life at Oregon State until 1962.  OSU’s proud tradition of military training is documented nicely by our colleagues in the University Archives in the Historical Note to this finding aid.]

Pauling, decades away from the peace activism that, for many, continues to define his legacy, participated with typical vigor.  His marks for military drill were consistently stellar, and near the end of his freshman year Pauling received first runner-up in the Best Soldier competition at OAC’s Military Inspection Day.

Pauling's OAC report card, October 1918.  The usual good grades in military drill, the sciences and math; a highly-unusual A+ in P.E.; and more-typical struggles in Mechanical Drawing.

Pauling's OAC report card, October 1918. The usual good grades in military drill, the sciences and math; a highly-unusual A+ in P.E.; and more-typical struggles in Mechanical Drawing.

Pauling’s commitment to service did, at least on one occasion, come at a cost:  in his Pauling Chronology, biographer Robert Paradowski notes an unhappy incident befalling the young undergraduate at the beginning of his second term.

After going home for his Christmas vacation, Pauling returns on January 7 to the OAC campus for the Winter Short Course. His financial problems become severe during this time. He is also asked to leave the boardinghouse because he makes too much noise tramping up the stairs in his heavy military boots. During the winter and spring, he goes through several changes of address, sometimes rooming with friends, other times taking whatever he can find.

Nonetheless, Pauling’s heart seemed fully in tune with the ROTC mission.  Biographer Thomas Hager, in the early pages of his Force of Nature, writes

Following his freshman year, in the early summer of 1918, Pauling and Mervyn Stephenson, along with a number of other OAC cadets, were sent to the Presidio in San Francisco for six weeks of intensive officers’ training.  Pauling and Stephenson spent the rest of the summer helping build wooden-hulled freighters in a shipyard on the coast of Oregon.  Whatever Pauling’s opinions about war later, during World War I he was in full support of the government’s actions.  Stephenson would later remember that Pauling was a strong supporter of the war effort, “100 percent for it.”

Military training at the Presidio, San Francisco, California, Summer 1918.

Military training at the Presidio, San Francisco, California, Summer 1918.

Having completed the required two years, Pauling chose to remain active in ROTC for the duration of his time as an undergraduate, adding classes in camp cookery to his compulsory drilling.  By the time of his movement on to graduate work at the California Institute of Technology, Pauling had risen to the rank of Major within the Training Corps.

In later years, Pauling would answer the call to service again by engaging in an ambitious program of scientific war research on behalf of the Allied effort during World War II — the human blood plasma substitute oxypolygelatin, new types of rocket propellants, invisible inks and an oxygen meter for use in aircraft and submarines all arose out of this fruitful period.

For his efforts, Pauling received a number of awards from the U.S. government including a Naval Ordnance Development Award, a certificate of recognition from the Office of Scientific Research and Development, a certificate of appreciation from the Rocket Development Program and, most importantly, the Presidential Medal for Merit.

Though the later Pauling was, without question, a vocal and, at times, incendiary critic of U.S. military policy, one would be hard-pressed to make the argument that he was anti-soldier.  To Pauling, war was the greatest of all immoralities, but his criticism was always pointed at the world’s larger actors — the governments and war profiteers — rather than the men and women working in service to their countries.

On the contrary, service to a larger cause was clearly important to Pauling, to the point where he and his wife, Ava Helen, once pledged themselves as willing “Hostages for Peace,” offering to travel to North Vietnam to serve as human shields for Vietnamese citizens and U.S. prisoners of war endangered by the U.S. aerial raids being conducted in the early 1970s.

Clearly, amidst all the accusations and noise surrounding his alleged “anti-Americanism” or “communist ties,” Linus Pauling’s remarkable willingness to sacrifice, much like his earlier ROTC service, was an important but frequently-overlooked component of a terrifically-complex story.

Oregon 150

An Outspoken Man

Linus Pauling. 1940s.

Linus Pauling. 1940s.

“Do you think that an American who insists on making up his own mind, who objects to being told what to do, to being pushed around by officious officials, is thereby made un-American? I do not. I think that he is being more American than people who do not object.”
– Linus Pauling. Letter to the Board of Regents, University of Hawaii. March 30, 1951.

Before embarking on his multi-decade long crusade for world peace, Linus Pauling began to address injustices on a decidedly more local level.

December 8, 1941 was a memorable day on the normally quiet Caltech campus. That morning, the campus was bristling with military vehicles manned by the National Guard troops. The Caltech registrar, an officer in the National Guard, had called them in to “defend” the Caltech campus. Notices were posted for an emergency convocation at 10:00 a.m. in Culbertson Hall and students were drafted to guard doors not manned by the National Guard and armed with pick axe handles.

Classrooms were empty and groups were listening to the radio and discussing the evolving news coming from Pearl Harbor. At 10 a.m. we dutifully assembled in Culbertson Hall where our registrar, in full National Guard uniform complete with pistols, gave a most intemperate speech about the dastardly “Japs” that would have done credit to any American Legion hall that day.

Linus Pauling was standing in the back of the hall as he had come in late and interrupted the speech by bursting out with the question “By what authority have you called this impromptu convocation?” He then proceeded to remind the registrar that Caltech was known for being a place of thoughtful and factual reason but the registrar had turned it into a place of pure hysteria. The student body stood up and clapped for Linus. The registrar dismissed the meeting and retreated in some disarray. For many of us, Linus won his Nobel Peace Prize that day!

(Doug Strain, 2000, as quoted in Mead, Clifford and Thomas Hager. Linus Pauling: Scientist and Peacemaker. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press, 2001. 251. [Now available in paperback])

Following the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Paulings worked to aid Japanese-Americans unfairly persecuted by their community and their government. In response, the Pauling home was vandalized and the family threatened. Later in life, as a result of his activism on behalf of a variety of peace efforts, Pauling would be publicly attacked as a Communist and a traitor. Despite the incendiary accusations thrown his way, throughout his life Pauling consistently acted on his own personal beliefs. His convictions eventually resulted in his receipt of the 1962 Nobel Peace Prize, making him the only individual in history with two unshared Nobel prizes.

For more information, please visit the OSU Libraries Special Collections homepage.