WOMEN IN PLANT BIOLOGY

From the Farm to the Laboratory: A Winding Road to Plant Biology
by Peggy G. Lemaux
Department of Plant and Microbial Biology, University of California at Berkeley

It was snowing, cold. And then the water pipes froze, forcing us to head to the outhouse—something I tried to avoid, particularly in the winter! Growing up on a farm in the Midwest was not an easy life. Hours spent bending down to pick strawberries to sell at our roadside stand; cleaning out the chicken coop, breathing in the dusty, fetid air; getting up with the rooster’s crow to feed the baby lambs whose mothers had abandoned them. Never a dull moment!

I finished high school and headed off to college, looking to the future and happy to leave the farm and its memories behind. Acting on the advice of my high school counselor—who was afraid that a woman’s intellect was not strong enough to survive the rigors of a career in mathematics—I began a career in home economics! At least I learned how to cook, a talent I didn’t have time to cultivate on the farm. But after three semesters, my mind yearned for more rigor in my studies. I switched my major to microbiology. Peering in a microscope and seeing life smaller than I could see with my naked eyes was glorious to me! I thrived.

I got a master’s degree in microbiology and immunology at the University of Michigan Medical School, followed by a soul-searching period working at a pharmaceutical company and trying to decide if I had what it took to get a PhD. I would be the first in my family. But I remembered my high school counselor’s warnings: Was my intellect too weak?

But I grew weary of having others determine the direction of my research and going off to meetings to present my research. I summoned up my courage and headed off to graduate school—again in microbiology, again at the University of Michigan Medical School. In five years I had my degree and went off to the Stanford Medical School to join Stanley Cohen and learn genetic engineering, the powers of which his laboratory had just demonstrated. I used what I learned to manipulate antibiotic-producing Streptomycetes, to try to be the first to isolate the interferon gene, and to clone genes from the hepatitis B virus to develop a vaccine.

Interesting it was! But I still didn’t feel fulfilled. Was it the memories of growing up on a farm that were tugging at me? Would shifting my focus calm my restless spirit? On a sunny spring day, I wandered over to the Carnegie Institution, Department of Plant Biology on the Stanford campus, and my life changed! I spent time there studying light harvesting in algae and then took a job at DeKalb Plant Genetics, where I really learned plant biology. I focused all of my efforts on figuring out how to apply the genetic engineering technologies I had learned at Stanford to one of the most important crops in the world—corn. We were the first to publish on how to introduce a new gene into corn and observe its passage to the next generation.

Today, perhaps, achieving that goal seems trivial, but to me the excitement of that moment can’t be overstated. At the time, there were people who said it couldn’t be done—that there were basic biological hurdles that could never be overcome in corn. But we succeeded, a small group of dedicated scientists. And that achievement has spawned an entire industry—not to mention hundreds of thousands of acres of genetically engineered corn worldwide.

Although I had no formal training in plant biology, my goal was to move to an academic institution and make the technically complex process of genetically engineering cereal crops simple. I wanted it to be so routine that undergraduate students could use it to answer basic biological questions, as well as to improve crops.

An unusual opportunity presented itself—a Cooperative Extension position at the University of California at Berkeley in the Department of Plant Biology. Although my view of Cooperative Extension was shaped by my experiences on the farm—contacting the local agent to find out what was causing smut on our corn or fluffy mold on the grapes in our arbor—I decided to apply. I was intrigued, because this job required both developing an applied research program and interacting with the public to explain the genetic engineering of crops. It seemed both interesting and challenging. And it was—in ways that I didn’t imagine in 1991 when I took the job.

At that time, there was ample funding to do applied research in cereal crops, and although there were occasional rumblings from consumers about genetically engineered foods (e.g., bGH-injected cows), life was good! Then in the late 1990s, mad cow disease erupted in Europe, and consumers in the European Union became wary of genetically engineered foods. Concern spread to the United States after Charles Margulis, a Greenpeace genetic engineering issues expert, sent a letter to Gerber warning of the dangers of using genetically engineered products in baby food. And then came 9/11 and the war in Iraq. All of these events had a negative impact on plant biology research, and money to do research became hard to secure. Voices of opposition became louder. It was job security for me in one sense, but sadly, applied research aimed at genetic engineering of cereals became a reality difficult to achieve.

Knowing all the difficulties, would I change my career decision? Absolutely not! I love the challenges. I love the triumphs. Never a dull moment! Plant biology was the fulfillment I was seeking. It makes it easy to get up in the morning—even without a rooster crowing!