Blog Articles

The New Abnormal

America survives the depression

We’re shaped by the crises of our times—especially those that happen when we’re young. Looking back on my parents’ lives with the relative wisdom of age, I can see the currents that carried them, turning them into the people I knew.

They were both children of the Great Depression, and the marks of that experience were stamped into their psyches in ways that seem obvious to me now. Both were rural Southern educators—poor, but not as poor as others, and nowhere near the poverty they had both known in their youth. As a preteen, I helped mix the cement for the foundations of the house my dad was building with his own hands. Year after year, we mapped out summer road trips out West that never happened. I spent hours playing with armies of inverted tacks, arrayed for war in static ranks and files. I never knew plenty, but I never knew want. Maybe that’s why I never really understood that we were poor.

But as I grew older, I saw how my parents always saved money from their meager incomes. Even after retirement, living on a thin thread of Social Security and my Dad’s veteran’s pension, they always managed somehow to put something aside. Not for some well-earned extravagance, but as a hedge against that second Great Depression that, fortunately, never came.

They were also shaped by World War II—especially my dad, who nearly died on a battlefield in eastern France. I remember the little bits of shrapnel that would well up, infrequently but painfully, through his scars, but it wasn’t until much later that I came to understand why a man who, in his teens, played his guitar and sang in movie theatres as a pre-show entertainer wanted nothing more, the rest of his life, than to be left alone with his books and his thoughts.

As a whole, my generation of Americans, and others since, have lived in comparatively fortunate times. Wars, but no world wars. Recessions, but no depressions. The poor were still poor, and the disadvantaged were still disadvantaged, but there were no global catastrophes to make their load even heavier.

Until now.

For the past eight months, I’ve been one of the lucky ones. I have a job I can do from home. My family is safe and well—knock on wood. As a bit of a loner, I’ve adjusted fairly well to isolation. The internet and delivery services have partially filled the void where outside activities used to be. For me, the pandemic has brought fear and boredom and inconvenience and physical separation from friends and loved ones, but not overwhelming loneliness or inconsolable grief or the daily peril faced by first responders and essential workers.

But as my wife and I go out for our masked walks around the neighborhood, crossing the street to avoid meeting other pedestrians, I can’t help but wonder what this is doing to us all on the inside. The slow remolding of our psyches, the imperceptible formation of walls and sinkholes inside our heads. The Great Depression turned my mom into a lifelong miser. World War II turned my dad into a recluse. What is this seemingly endless pandemic doing to me?

And more importantly, what is it doing to my 5-year-old grandson?

It would be nice to think that when this is over, it will really be over. But I suspect that we’ll be talking about the lasting effects of 2020 for many years to come. There will be a new normal, and some of it will be good—maybe even wonderful—but some of it will definitely be abnormal in ways we can, for now, only guess.

How to Become an International Yo-Yo Star

Nathan Dailey ’231. Grow up in Paradise. Before it was largely destroyed by the deadliest and most destructive wildfire in state history, Paradise, California, was a town steeped in the yo-yo culture of nearby Chico, home of the National Yo-Yo Museum.

2. Like kids everywhere, try your hand at spinning two disks attached to an axle on a string, but take it further. “I just picked it up and learned from people and from YouTube videos. It went from there.”

3. Leave “Walk the Dog” in your dust. Discover the world of hops, mounts, slacks and horizontal tricks. Once you know the standards, create your own. Practice. Practice some more.

4. Start entering contests. “My first time competing, I was 12, and I’ve been doing it for probably eight years now. I definitely grew up with it.”

5. Break through. Finish third in the 2015 National Yo-Yo Contest at just 14, becoming one of the youngest top-three finishers ever in the premier 1-A division.

6. Snap a string onstage during the 2017 National Yo-Yo Contest. Recover. Learn about letting go and moving on.

7. With string-blurring, mind-bending tricks, have an awesome 2018 season, winning the Bay Area Classic, the Pacific Northwest Regional and grabbing third at nationals and sixth in the World Yo-Yo Contest.

8. Get a sponsorship deal and your own custom yo-yo: The “ND” Nate Dailey signature model by Yo-Yo Factory features two concave aluminum disks and retails for $49.95.

9. Endure the fire and the traumatizing loss of your family’s home. Like a yo-yo, climb back up the string and give an uplifting address as one of Paradise High’s valedictorians.

10. Become a showman and create a style of your own after years of watching world champion Gentry Stein of Chico. Finish fourth in the 2019 World Yo-Yo Contest before heading to Pomona College for your freshman year.

 

Never Stop Running

Team runningStill, they run.

The defending national champions in men’s cross country from Sagehen Athletics will not get a chance to repeat this year after NCAA Division III championships in all fall sports were canceled because of the pandemic.

But the Pomona and Pitzer College runners still train, and many of them lived together for the fall semester in several pods across the West.

In Keystone, Colorado, Dante Paszkeicz ’22 and three teammates found a place together.

“Surprisingly enough, it’s a ski resort town but it was the cheapest housing we could find for such a short lease,” he says. “Because of COVID, no one’s traveling all that much, and it’s not ski season right now. We got really lucky with it.”

In Park City, Utah, Ethan Ashby ’21 and Owen Woo PZ ’21 were among a group that converged on another high-altitude training spot.

And in Bend, Oregon, eight first-year runners found two houses they could rent. Despite being new to a team that had just seen its season canceled, Lucas Florsheim ’24 was one of the leaders of the plans to live and train together.

“We were talking in our meeting about what it meant for our season, for our team, and then afterwards, I was like, we have to do something,” Florsheim says. “For me, it was freshman fall. I wanted to get at least some sort of new experience. Being on campus obviously couldn’t happen. But I definitely wanted to move out and study with people and train with people. I just sent out an email that same afternoon asking if people would be interested.”

The responses came back rapidly.

“A lot of people were like, ‘I was literally about to send the same email,’” Florsheim says.

The runners’ search for a place that a couple of dozen college guys could live together proved challenging, says Head Coach Jordan Carpenter.

“I think trying to find that much housing right by each other and places that were willing to rent to 18- to 21-year-olds fell through a little bit,” says Carpenter, who was chosen the Division III national coach of the year by the U.S. Track & Field and Cross Country Coaches Association after the 2019 title.

Still, the runners persisted, creating their own pods—living, running, studying and usually eating together.

“We’ve just been splitting up the bill for groceries, cooking mostly shared meals,” says Paszkeicz, a 2019 All-American who admits his training diet is not so strict that it doesn’t include the doughnuts regularly found in the discount aisle at the local grocery store. “We’ve been doing surprisingly well for four guys living on their own out here,” he says. “But, yeah, definitely missing Frary [Dining Hall].”

Things got rough for the group of first-years in Bend after the Oregon wildfires in September resulted in poor air quality and no opportunity to run. But a group of senior teammates in Utah who had never met them welcomed them for a quick road trip to Park City.

“Some of us wanted to go find some clean air,” Florsheim says. “So we drove to Utah and met some of the guys and got to go on a couple of runs.”

Training Remotely

For Carpenter, the situation has created opportunities for innovation, though under NCAA rules he can design workout plans only for runners enrolled full time—some were in school part time for the fall semester—and those who were able to secure required physicals.

“One of the silver linings of everything going on is it’s forced us as coaches to look for new ways to do what we do,” he says. “For me, it’s meant using some new technologies that we hadn’t used in the past.”

An online training platform allows Carpenter to send out individualized plans for each runner and adjust for the high altitudes where they’re training. “Most of them have GPS-enabled watches. The platform will actually pull that data when they finish a run and upload it on my end so that I can analyze it.

“If they have a GPS-enabled watch, it will show me the cadence, so their steps per minute throughout the run, and graph that. It will graph their pace that they’re running, a graph over time. I’ll see elevation changes from the route they ran. If they hit a big hill, that might explain why they slowed down.”

Other Sagehen teams are trying to continue whatever training they can and hold regular Zoom meetings to maintain their sense of community. Still, the nature of cross country means the team could continue to train in ways other teams can’t. There have even been virtual time trials, not only within the team, but also against Occidental at a virtual meet in October. Among the top finishers was Hugo Ward ’21—who ran his race at home in Sweden.

“It’s not like football or basketball or a team sport where you work on certain parts of your game, but you can’t participate in the actual sport of it,” Carpenter says.

What they can’t do is defend their 2019 title until 2021.

It’s a loss that for seniors is irretrievable unless they take advantage of the NCAA’s grant of an additional year of eligibility. But realistically, Pomona and Pitzer students would be more likely to graduate and take the year of eligibility to a university to begin graduate school, perhaps with an admissions edge or possibly athletic scholarship assistance.

By now, most of the runners have made a sort of peace with the season that wasn’t.

A Chance to Explore

Ethan Widlansky ’22, who earned All-American honors after finishing seventh nationally at the NCAA championship meet, found it somewhat freeing once the decision was made.

“As soon as I found out, I actually went on a bike trip,” he says. “I went with some friends and we all biked the Olympic Peninsula. It was a lot of fun and something I wouldn’t have been able to do if I had been training full time. So, yeah, it’s been hard, and realizing that we weren’t going to have a season was really tough. But it’s also afforded me flexibility in training that has also been kind of valuable.”

Widlansky, who is also from Seattle, went up to Blaine, Washington, where he did some backcountry running with some members of the Sagehen women’s cross country team. Back in Seattle, he is living at home, where he has run with recent alumni Dan Hill ’19, now working in the wealth management field, Danny Rosen ’20, a member of the NCAA championship team who is working as a software development engineer for Amazon Web Services, and Andy Reischling ’19, who is working remotely for PBS in its documentary division after returning home from New York during the pandemic.

Widlansky also has been involved in progressive causes related to the election and racial justice, both formally and informally.

“On a more micro level, I think the discussions I’ve been having with my mom and my family and some of my more conservative friends have been more important,” he says.

“While it’s a bummer that we don’t get to compete in nationals, it feels like there’s been a hell of a lot more going on than just D-III NCAA competition.”

Taking Time Out

Since we’re all spending a lot of time at home these days, this section offers some amusing pastimes for those looking for a bit of relaxing fun.


Crossword Challenge

This crossword puzzle, titled “Plot-lines,” was designed by Joel Fagliano ’14, the digital puzzle editor of The New York Times and assistant to the print crossword editor, Will Shortz. The answers are available here.

crossword puzzle, titled “Plot-lines”


Color Me Creative

For those who have joined the adult coloring craze—or who want to give it a try—here’s another familiar image from the Pomona College campus. Send us a scan of your work (pcm@pomona.edu) to show off in a future issue.

Color Me Creative

This rendering of last issue’s coloring challenge was submitted by Boston architect Harriet Chu ’76.

This rendering of last issue’s coloring challenge was submitted by Boston architect Harriet Chu ’76.

Crossword Challenge Answers

ACROSS

1. STRUCK
7. YOUTUBED
15. WOOHOO
16. YOSEMITE
17. URANUS
18. YOGIBEAR
19. MONOPOLY
21. GENT
22. VOYAGER
25. BFF
28. HOLYMAN
29. VPS
32. MOIRE
34. YES
35. LEIA
36. XXXXXXX
39. XXXXXXX
41. ETES
42: KEY
44. EIEIO
45. RVS
46. KENYANS
49. DEN
50. IDSAYSO
51. CALL
53. YARDSALE
59. HAULAWAY
62. DEEJAY
63. ORDINARY
64. IMGAME
65. STINGRAY
66. COAXES

DOWN

1. SWUM
2. TORO
3. ROAN
4. UHNO
5. COUP
6. KOSOVO
7. YYYYYYY
8. OOO
9. USG
10. TEIGEN
11. UMBER
12. BIEN
13. ETAT
14. DER
20. LOL
23. AMEX
24. GASX
25. BMXER
26. FOXTV
27. FIXES
28. HEX
29. VEXED
30. PIXIE
31. SAXON
33. RXS
35. LXI
37. XKES
38. XENA
40. XES
43. YYYYYYY
46. KDLANG
47. ASA
48. NORDIC
50. ILLIN
51. CART
52. AUDI
54. DEMO
55. SEGA
56. AJAX
57. LAME
58. EYES
59. HOS
60. WAR
61. ARA

Together in Cyberspace

With the College closed for the fall semester and all instruction temporarily online, Pomona faculty have relied on a range of technologies to teach their classes and build community among their students. —Photos by Jeff Hing

Chemistry Professor Jane Liu conducts a Zoom class in Biochemistry from her office in Seaver North.

Chemistry Professor Jane Liu conducts a Zoom class in Biochemistry from her office in Seaver North.

Giovanni Molina Ortega

Theatre Professor Giovanni Molina Ortega accompanies students in his Musical Theatre class from a piano in Seaver Theatre.

German Professor Hans Rindesbacher

German Professor Hans Rindesbacher puts a group of beginning German students through their paces from his office in Mason Hall.

A Clue to Blocking the Virus

virusUnderstanding how to stop the novel coronavirus from attacking cells and the immune system is a challenge that scientists around the world are facing as they race against the clock to create treatments and vaccines to fight the pandemic. According to new research from Pomona College, Caltech and DePaul University, one key to unlocking that puzzle may have been found in the effect of metal ions on a pair of the novel coronavirus’s proteins—the virus’s main protease, known as 6LU7, and the protein in the virus’s spikes, known as 6VXX.

In an article published in the Journal of Inorganic Biochemistry, Pomona College Professor of Chemistry Roberto Garza-López, DePaul University Professor of Chemical Physics John Kozak and Caltech Professor of Chemistry Harry B. Gray have shared their findings in order to contribute to the worldwide effort to end the pandemic. Titled “Structural stability of the SARS-CoV-2 main protease: Can metal ions affect function?” the article was picked by the journal’s editor to be part of a special issue to celebrate the publication’s 50th anniversary.

Using computational techniques employed in Garza-López’s lab and experimental results obtained in Gray’s lab, the team began working in February on the properties of these two pieces of the novel coronavirus. The virus uses its spike protein, 6VXX, to attach itself to human cells. Then, like a pair of molecular scissors, the protease, 6LU7, activates the virus by cutting its large polyproteins into smaller segments that can attack human cells. Both proteins are key to the virus’s ability to replicate.

Through almost daily research via Zoom discussions, computational modeling and experiments, the researchers have discovered that several metals—including certain ions of zinc, copper and cobalt—could inhibit the normal functioning of those two vital pieces of the virus’s protein. Inhibiting either the attachment of the virus or the catalytic action that activates it could prevent the virus from wreaking havoc on individual cells and, ultimately, the immune system.

“The purpose of knowing the mechanism to inhibit the SARS-CoVid-2 virus is to guide the design of COVID-19-specific therapeutics and vaccines suitable for mass immunization,” says Garza-López. “Drug design will focus on the ability to stop the novel coronavirus before it attaches to human cells or reproduces itself. That’s why we believe the contribution of our last two papers and this one that was just accepted will be able to say something about this mechanism.”

The research team had already been studying the family of coronaviruses for a while before the global pandemic caused by the new coronavirus began. Then, in early February, a team of Chinese scientists shared the crystal structure of protein 6LU7 in the Protein Data Bank, an open-access digital data resource available to scientists around the world, with the aim of promoting scientific discovery. One day after 6LU7 was deposited by the Chinese team, Garza-López pulled the data to begin his work.

“I visualize the protein, and we go piece by piece and identify different pockets in which we can stop either the attachment of the virus or the catalyzation that is responsible for the polyprotein that will inject the machinery into the cell to replicate and destroy the immune system,” he explains. “Many simulations are performed daily to get the right inhibiting mechanism.”

As COVID-19 swept the world and turned into a global pandemic, Garza-López and Gray took to Zoom to conduct daily research meetings. Garza-López also oversaw 13 student researchers during the summer, including both students at Pomona College and high school students in Pomona’s summer enrichment program, known as PAYS. “Computational research has not slowed down, in spite of spending considerable time at improving my teaching online and having five PAYS students and eight Pomona College undergraduates this summer,” he says, adding that the students have had all the means necessary to continue their work uninterrupted without having to meet in person or put each other at risk.

“The new coronavirus that causes the COVID-19 illness is very unique. It’s very easy to transmit, which makes it more dangerous than the other coronaviruses, especially when it mutates and improves its efficiency,” says Garza-López. “We are interested in how its protein structure behaves and its points of weakness as well as the recent D614G mutation that has increased its efficiency of transmission 10 times.”

Garza-López, Gray and Kozak have a long history of studying proteins, how they interact, how they fold and unfold, how they react with certain metallic elements. Prior to their interest in coronaviruses, the team was working on the folding and unfolding of the proteins azurin and cytochrome C’ and energy transfer in special molecules called dendrimers. The improper unfolding of proteins has been linked to cancers and other diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s.

Bringing the Outside In

Outside In, by Deborah Underwood ’83Timing truly is everything, and the children’s book Outside In, by Deborah Underwood ’83, is arguably prescient. Released in April during a pandemic she never anticipated when she wrote the book, it is a vivid meditation on how nature affects us even when we’re stuck indoors. In these strange times of sheltering in place, this book, illustrated by Cindy Derby, gives readers pause to ponder our connectedness to creation.

Underwood talked to Pomona College Magazine’s Sneha Abraham about the world outside, social distancing, maintaining wonder and more.

PCM: Can you tell me a little bit about your relationship to nature, as a child and now as an adult?

Underwood: Well, that’s a really interesting question. We were not a very nature-oriented family. We didn’t go camping and the kind of things that a lot of people do. I remember loving to play in my backyard. I remember going back behind these bushes and digging for treasure. And of course, every time you hit a rock, you’re like, “I’m either in China or it’s a treasure chest.” But it’s funny; it’s been more of a later-life interest for me. I don’t go camping, although I might try that sometime, but I do love being outside. And there’s the botanical garden very close to where I live, and I spend so much time there. That’s really informed my writing and my process. One of the hard things about the pandemic for me was they closed it for a few months. That was a gut punch. It was just horrible. And I realized how much I had depended on being able to walk in that beautiful place and collect my thoughts for writing. So much of picture book writing is thinking, because they’re short manuscripts. It’s 98% thought and 2% getting it on paper.

One of the things that I’ve done over the pandemic is I put a garden into my apartment building backyard. I had no interest in gardening but just the knowledge that this might be the only safe place to go for a while. My landlord had been paying people to come in and chop everything down and spray the yard with Roundup. When I found out they were doing that, I thought, “You know what? If I can at least get some mulch down, maybe they’ll stop putting that toxic stuff all over it.” But then I started putting in plants, and I connected with people on Nextdoor, and neighbors donated pavers and plants, and I went to Home Depot a million times.

The garden has really made me more aware of the nature around me. I’ve always loved animals. I have a bird feeder and I have … Edward and Elinor Pigeon, Elliot and Shadow Pigeon, Buddy the Raccoon who comes and drinks from the hummingbird feeder. All of a sudden, I feel like I have this little wild kingdom.

PCM: Your nonfiction includes so many books about animals and the planet and the universe. What are you trying to communicate to children?

Underwood: Well, interestingly, the nonfiction, that was almost all work-for-hire stuff. I was doing that when I was getting started writing for kids. I made a career change in 2000 when I got laid off from this corporate job that I was not particularly interested in. And I thought, “Well, if I’m going to do something different, this is a good time to make a change.” So, I decided that I wanted to write children’s books. I started doing a lot of research and dipping my toe into that field. But one of the ways that I made money when I was first starting out was doing these work-for-hire books, which traditionally do not pay well at all but are a really good way to learn about the field. And the editor actually assigns the topic. So an educational publisher will say, “We want to do a series about camouflage. We want a book about this, this, this, this. Can you write it?” And you go, “Sure, I can.” But you don’t know anything about the topic. One of my first moments of true panic as a writer was when I’d agreed to write a book about the Northern Lights. And I said, “Oh, yeah, that sounds so cool.” And then I started doing the research and I was like, “I don’t know anything about physics!” And I realized I had agreed to do this book about something that I don’t have the scientific chops to understand completely. But you find good experts who help you and review things, and then it’s like, “OK. I managed to do that.”

PCM: With your fiction, by virtue of writing for children, you’re also writing for adults who read to them, right? What are you trying to communicate to the adults?

Underwood: Honestly, I don’t really think about the adults. I’m not very interested in grown-ups. It’s a strange field because it’s the only one I can think of where the consumer is not purchasing the product. What you have to do is entice the parent enough to buy it for the kid. But most of the time, I’m not thinking about audience at all. I keep saying that I’m essentially a 6-year-old in a grown-up’s body. So if something is interesting or funny to me, I feel it will be to kids. Usually, if you set out saying, “Well, what do I want to try to teach kids?” that’s a fatal error in writing for them. People come up to me and say things like, “Oh, I have this idea for a kid’s book. I want to teach kids it’s important to brush their teeth.” And you’re like, “Oh yeah, I’m sure kids are going to be really excited about that.” But when I teach writing workshops, I say, “If you write from your heart, your values are going to come out in your work without you doing anything to squeeze them in there.”

PCM: How do you maintain that childlike wonder? You said you’re a 6-year-old at heart.

Underwood: Just—I am 6. I just am. I don’t know. I think somebody once said that people who write for kids either have kids and really love kids or they are kids, and I fall into the latter category. If you ask any children’s writer, they will probably be able to say without even thinking, “Yeah, I’m 12.” My 16-year-old friends write YA. My 12-year-old friends write middle grade. And my 6-year-old friends write picture books.

PCM: What were your favorite children’s books?

Underwood:: Like many Pomona students, I’m sure, I was a pretty early reader, so I don’t really remember the picture books as much. What I remember is reading Beverly Cleary books and A Wrinkle in Time and Harriet the Spy.

I do remember my dad reading Dr. Seuss books to me. Those are great read-alouds, and I remember him reading Hop on Pop and all that. I bet if we called him up right now, he would still be able to recite the ABC book: If you said, “Painting pink pajamas. Policeman in a pail,” he would be able to finish the line. So that’s kind of a lesson in paying attention to making the adult happy enough to read the book 500 times, because you know that’s going to happen if the kid likes the book.

PCM: By virtue of being in a pandemic, what role does the outside play in this time of social distancing?

Underwood: It’s made me appreciate it so much more. When the botanical garden opened again, I wanted to go in and fall down and kiss the ground. But I do think it’s interesting that this book, Outside In, about our deep connection with nature, came out in the middle of this craziness.

I’ve always found outside to be a refuge in terms of going on walks and clearing my head and going to the park and all that. And then especially for the first few months, it became fraught because we didn’t know much about transmission. Not knowing if a jogger breathing on you would make you sick—it just added this layer of stress and anxiety onto being outside, which I’d never experienced before.

PCM: I know you don’t have an agenda per se. But one thing that came to mind when I was reading your book is the Joni Mitchell song “Big Yellow Taxi.” “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” How do you think this connects with environmental issues? Are you trying to communicate anything related to that in your book?  

Underwood: I think if you write from your heart, your values do come out. I feel like Outside In is my environmental book. I have a book called Ogilvy. It’s about a bunny who’s wearing a garment that’s either a sweater or a dress, and the community isn’t sure which, and they’re trying to put the bunny into a box. So that’s my gender acceptance book. I just had one come out called Every Little Letter, which is about these letters and they all live surrounded by walls. So, the H is in the city of Hs, and they’re afraid of the different letters outside. There’s no metaphor there at all, obviously. The letters take down the walls at the end and they start making words and cooperating. Obviously, my values inform what I write.

PCM: Do you write every day?

Underwood: No.

PCM: I feel better as a writer.

Underwood: No. You know what? I don’t know about you, but the last several months have been so hard for every creative person that I know. I have a really strong Facebook community, and it’s very nice to be able to post, “I can’t work. I can’t even read,” and have people go, “Me neither. Me neither. Me neither.”

PCM: It happens to me that I can’t read. I haven’t read in months.

Underwood: No, no. That’s the thing. And it’s so frustrating, right? Because as soon as I heard about the shutdown, I went to the library, I checked out about 25 books. I was like, “Finally, finally, I get to read all these books.” Honestly, I think I’ve read maybe one middle-grade novel since March. I even pulled out a book that I loved when I was a kid and told myself, “Fifteen minutes. Just try to read 15 minutes a day.” And I did it for two days, and then my attention kind of fractured…

PCM: I feel really bad as a writer, but I’ve just been bingeing on Netflix.

Underwood: I think we have to, right? I tell myself—this might not be entirely true—we’re learning about story structure, right?

The Prize

The Prize
Jennifer Doudna at work in her lab at UC Berkeley

Jennifer Doudna at work in her lab at UC Berkeley. —Photo by Robert Durell

As word spread around the globe in the early hours of Oct. 7, 2020, that biochemist Jennifer Doudna ’85 had just been awarded a Nobel Prize in chemistry, the honoree herself was sound asleep.

CRISPR on Campus

Pomona students are already using the gene-editing technique discovered by 2020 Nobel laureate Jennifer Doudna ’85.

“It’s a little bit embarrassing,” she admitted at a press conference later that morning from the University of California, Berkeley, where she is a professor of biochemistry. Even though—or perhaps because—she had been short-listed for the award by various prognosticators for several years, Doudna hadn’t given the impending announcement so much as a thought when she’d gone to bed that evening. She had even silenced her phone.

“I was awakened just before 3 a.m.,” she added. “My phone was buzzing, and for some reason, it finally woke me up because it turns out it had been buzzing before that, and I hadn’t heard it. But anyway, I picked up the phone and it was Heidi Ledford from Nature magazine, who is a reporter who I know, and she wanted to know if I could comment on the Nobel. And I said, ‘Well, who won it?’”

The answer to that question may have surprised Doudna, but it came as a shock to just about no one else in the world of science. In the eight years since she and her research collaborator, Emmanuelle Charpentier—with whom she shares the 2020 award—first described the gene-editing tool known as CRISPR-Cas9, their discovery has taken the world of biological, agricultural and medical research by storm. It has transformed genome editing from a complex, costly, time-consuming and imprecise endeavor into something that can be done with speed, economy and relative precision in just about any modestly equipped research lab in the world. By giving scientists everywhere—in the words of the Nobel committee—“a tool for rewriting the code of life,” Doudna and Charpentier have unleashed a flood of promising new science in everything from agriculture to cancer research, from faster COVID-19 tests to potential cures for such genetic diseases as sickle cell anemia.

By that day in early October, the two chemists had already received just about every other international science award possible, including the $3 million Breakthrough Prize for Life Sciences, the Canada Gairdner International Award, the Heineken Prize for Biochemistry and Biophysics, the Princess of Asturias Technical and Scientific Research Award, the Gruber Prize in Genetics, the Tang Prize, the Japan Prize, the NAS Award in Chemical Sciences, the Kavli Prize in Nanoscience, the Harvey Prize in Human Health and the Wolf Prize in Medicine.

The Nobel Prize came as a giant exclamation point on the end of that list, ensuring that the discovery of CRISPR-Cas9 will be remembered as one of the most significant in the history of science.

And if that sounds like hyperbole, check out this statement from the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences: “Since Charpentier and Doudna discovered the CRISPR-Cas9 genetic scissors in 2012, their use has exploded. This tool has contributed to many important discoveries in basic research, and plant researchers have been able to develop crops that withstand mould, pests and drought. In medicine, clinical trials of new cancer therapies are underway, and the dream of being able to cure inherited diseases is about to come true. These genetic scissors have taken the life sciences into a new epoch and, in many ways, are bringing the greatest benefit to humankind.”

Jennifer Doudna (right) and Emmanuelle Charpentier receive the Princess of Asturias Award for Technical and Scientific Research from Spain’s King Felipe VI at a ceremony in Oviedo, Spain, in 2015.

Jennifer Doudna (right) and Emmanuelle Charpentier receive the Princess of Asturias Award for Technical and Scientific Research from Spain’s King Felipe VI at a ceremony in Oviedo, Spain, in 2015. —AP Photo/Jose Vicente

The Formation of a Nobel Laureate

Growing up on Hawaii’s Big Island, where her father was a professor of English literature at the University of Hawaii at Hilo, Doudna fell in love with nature early on. But hers wasn’t the poetic love of a romantic—it was the analytical love of a budding scientist.

“Father’s big disappointment was I didn’t become a literature guru of some kind,” she said with a laugh. “It’s one of those funny things. It’s just who I am.”

For instance, during the energy crisis of the 1970s, Doudna spent long hours in the school library researching alternative forms of energy, such as geothermal. “I was just always fascinated by science and technology solutions to problems that we face in the world—and never imagined that I would become a scientist until I think I was maybe in 10th grade in high school, when we had a lecture series by people around the state of Hawaii who were professional scientists. A number of really fascinating people came through—marine biologists, volcanologists, astronomers—but the one that really caught my attention was somebody who was working on cancer biology.”

As the researcher talked about her path to becoming a biochemist, Doudna says she felt a light go on. “I thought, ‘That is exactly what I want to do. That sounds so interesting and so fun. I can’t imagine anything more interesting than that.’ That’s why I actually went to Pomona, right? I started thinking, ‘I want to be a biochemist.’ In those days—this is in the late ’70s, I guess, early ’80s, right around 1980—there were not very many undergraduate colleges that had a focus or even a class in biochemistry, much less a major.”

At Pomona, professors like Fred Grieman, who taught the yearlong physical chemistry sequence for seniors, and Sharon Panasenko, who had just been hired to teach biochemistry, would become the first of a series of key mentors who would help shape Doudna’s career. “Mentors are critical,” Doudna told UC Berkeley’s California Magazine. “And fortunately for me, I’ve worked with absolutely outstanding scientists at every stage of my career.”

What set Doudna apart, Grieman recalled, “was her excitement and joy about learning everything.” At times, he said, students can be put off by the challenging nature of chemistry. Not Doudna. “She really enjoyed the rigor and the excitement of learning something that was that difficult—but also something that she could apply later.”

Panasenko—now Sharon Muldoon—has long since retired, but she retains fond memories of Doudna as a junior in her biochemistry class, preparing to enter what was then an intimidatingly male-dominated field. “Most of the students were going to medical school,” she said in a 2017 interview. “Jennifer was one of the few who were interested in a research career, so we talked a lot about it.”Muldoon was so impressed by the young Doudna that she invited her to work in her research lab, studying the bacterial communication systems that permit organisms like Myxococcus xanthus to self-organize into colonial forms. “She really showed a tremendous amount of aptitude and talent for lab work, which certainly helps if you’re going into a research career.”

Doudna remembers being astounded to have been chosen to work in Muldoon’s lab in the first place. “I got this opportunity to work with her over the summer, and really work with her,” she recalled. It wasn’t just that she threw something over the fence and said, ‘Come back in 10 weeks when you’re done.’ It was every day, going in and planning out experiments with her, and it was just the most amazing thing.”

Doudna still cites her Pomona education as a key ingredient in her success. “I am grateful to Pomona every day, honestly,” she said, “because it was a liberal arts education that exposed me to so many ideas that I would never have come in contact with, probably, without having attended Pomona.”

After Pomona, she earned her doctorate at Harvard under the supervision of geneticist Jack Szostak, who later won the Nobel Prize in medicine. It was under his tutelage that she began working with ribonucleic acid (RNA), the biochemical cousin of DNA, which she has continued to study throughout her career. She then did a postgraduate fellowship with another Nobel laureate, chemist Thomas Cech of the University of Colorado, Boulder, and went on to teach at Yale University. In 2002 she returned to California as a professor at UC Berkeley, where she now holds the titles of professor of chemistry, professor of biochemistry and molecular biology, and the Li Ka Shing Chancellor’s Chair in Biomedical and Health Sciences.

A former member of the Pomona College Board of Trustees, Doudna has been back to campus many times since graduating. Most notably, she returned in 2009 as the featured speaker for the Robbins Lectureship, which has brought to campus a veritable who’s-who of the world’s preeminent chemists, including a number of Nobel winners. The news that Doudna would be joining that exalted group of laureates—becoming the first graduate of Pomona College ever to receive a Nobel Prize—was met throughout the college community with an outpouring of Sagehen pride.

“Jennifer Doudna’s revolutionary research in gene editing and her thoughtful consideration of its implications hold the potential to change the lives of countless people around the globe,” said Pomona College President G. Gabrielle Starr. “We are so proud that she  received her undergraduate education at Pomona College and that she continues to engage in the life of our community. Her sense of discovery, her commitment to rigorous work and her willingness to reflect on its meaning embody some of the highest values of the College.”

Early on Nov. 7, Jennifer Doudna sits on her patio, taking congratulatory calls.

Early on Nov. 7, Jennifer Doudna sits on her patio, taking congratulatory calls. —Photo by Brittany Hosea-Small

The Aha Moment

It’s hard to say where the road to discovery begins, but a conference of the American Society of Microbiology in Puerto Rico in the spring of 2011 is as good a starting point as any. That’s where Doudna, a biochemist specializing in the study of RNA, met Charpentier, a French microbiologist studying how bacteria cause disease.

Both, as it turned out, were intrigued by a type of genetic sequence in bacteria known as CRISPR—which stands for “clustered, regularly interspaced, short palindromic repeat.” These odd DNA sequences play a key role in a bacterium’s first line of defense against viruses by allowing it to recognize and cut up viral DNA. Charpentier had already demonstrated that RNA played a key role in that process, so it made sense for her to ask RNA expert Doudna if she’d like to team up. Doudna, impressed by Charpentier’s passion for her work, immediately said yes.

“We decided there to start working together on one particular element in the CRISPR pathway, a protein called CRISPR-Cas9 that, at the time, was clearly important for protecting bacteria from virus infection, but nobody knew how it worked,” Doudna explained. “And so that was the question we set out to investigate.”

Working with Doudna’s postdoctoral researcher at UC Berkeley, Martin Jinek, and Charpentier’s research student, Krzys Chylinski, they began to do experiments. One discovery led to another, and Doudna still remembers the aha moment when she realized how important CRISPR-Cas9 could be.

“Martin Jinek in the lab had done experiments showing that not only could we control the DNA sequence where Cas9 would make its cut in the double helix, but also that we could engineer it to be a simpler system than what has been done in nature,” she recalled. “And I think—you know, I remember that moment very, very clearly—that Martin Jinek was in my office, and we were talking about his data. And we looked at each other, and we realized that this could be an extraordinary tool in other kinds of cells because of its ability to trigger DNA repair, and thereby to trigger genome editing. And that really set us on a course that has been just amazing over the last eight years after publishing that original work in 2012.”

That first article, published in the summer of 2012 in the journal Science, one of the world’s foremost scientific publications, exploded onto the scientific scene like a Fourth of July rocket. Within a year and a half, labs around the world had confirmed that CRISPR-Cas9 was a truly revolutionary discovery. As Adam Rogers ’92 wrote in his 2015 article about Doudna and her discovery for PCM, “Not only was CRISPR a quick-and-easy way to edit a genome as easily as Word edits a magazine article, but it worked in just about every living thing—yeast, zebrafish, mice, stem cells, in-vitro tissue cultures and even cells from human beings.”

That’s what you call revolutionary. But as Doudna would soon discover, it can be just as hard to rein in a revolution as it is to start one.

Later that morning, Doudna sits in a studio at UC Berkeley taking Zoom questions from reporters around the world.

Later that morning, Doudna sits in a studio at UC Berkeley taking Zoom questions from reporters around the world. —Photo by Brittany Hosea-Small

The Accidental Ethicist

It’s easy to see the almost infinite possibilities for important and beneficial science embodied in the CRISPR revolution. The most compelling of these for Doudna is the potential for curing a range of terrible genetic diseases.

“When I was in graduate school in the 1980s, my lab was located at the Massachusetts General Hospital, where a professor named Jim Gusella was mapping the gene that causes Huntington’s disease, which is a terrible neurodegenerative disease that people get usually in their 20s, 30s, 40s, and then they suffer from it for many years with sort of progressive loss of neurological function,” she recalled in an interview for PCM. “And so being aware of that gene-mapping experiment that was done in the ’80s, and then fast-forwarding a couple of decades and realizing that now there was this technology that, in principle, will allow correction of that kind of mutation is really a profound thought.”

However, there’s another side to the CRISPR revolution that Doudna hadn’t anticipated.

Previously, the two preferred techniques for gene editing—“zinc-finger nucleases” and “TALEN”—required the creation of custom-engineered proteins that were challenging to make and difficult to use. Buying one could set you back $25,000. Quite simply, the state of the art acted as a brake on the ambitions of aspiring gene editors everywhere.

Enter CRISPR. Today, a starter kit for using this relatively simple and precise technique costs about $65, plus shipping. Suddenly scientists all over the world have the tools in their hands to rewrite any gene they wish, pretty much at will.

What could possibly go wrong?

“People are people,” Doudna said in a recent interview. “If you have a powerful tool, there is some type of person that wants to use it for whatever—anything, right? Anything that can be done should be done. I think that CRISPR’s been no exception to that. What we’ve seen with CRISPR over the last few years is that there are a couple of things that’ve been done with CRISPR that are clearly, I think, irresponsible and shouldn’t be done. One of them, probably the one that got the most attention, was CRISPR babies.”

What she’s referring to is Chinese researcher He Jiankui’s announcement in 2018 of the birth of twin girls whose genomes he had altered in vitro using CRISPR. This shocking bit of news ratcheted up the ethical debate around the use of CRISPR and, a year later, landed the researcher himself in prison, with a three-year sentence for “illegal medical practices.”

Doudna’s reaction to all of this was clear: “Using CRISPR to change the genetics of human embryos, not for research but for actual implantation and to create a pregnancy—I think that clearly is something that just, at least right now, shouldn’t happen, because the technology isn’t ready, and we’re not ready, right? Society isn’t ready for that.”

But where should the lines be drawn?

Long before He’s ill-fated foray into designer babies, Doudna had decided that her personal responsibility in these matters went far beyond simply publishing her work. “I went from being a biochemist and structural biologist, working in my lab on this esoteric bacterial system, to realizing that I needed to get up to speed quickly on how other kinds of technologies that have been transformative had been managed and handled by the scientists that were involved in their genesis. Because things were moving so quickly that the ethical discussions needed to get going very fast.”

In 2015 Doudna organized a meeting of top biologists to discuss these issues and became the lead author of their report—also published in Science—calling for a moratorium on the use of CRISPR to edit the human genome in heritable ways. Her concerns also helped shape the book she was working on at about the same time. A Crack in Creation: Gene Editing and the Unthinkable Power to Control Evolution, published in 2017, wasn’t just the story of a groundbreaking discovery and its potential benefits—it was also an exploration of the ethical dilemmas involved in controlling irresponsible use of that breakthrough.

“What I worry about the most,” she explained, “is a rush to apply genome editing in ways that might harm people—because of over-excitement or the desire on the part of a scientist somewhere to do something first. I think that can be a very healthy drive in science, or in anything. In human endeavors, you know, people are competitive, and they want to move ahead with things and move ahead with ideas. I think it can also lead to problems, and in this case, I really hope that there’s a concerted effort globally to restrain ourselves and do things in a measured and thoughtful fashion that doesn’t get ahead of the technology or ahead of the ethical debate.”

Doudna raises a glass of champagne as she celebrates with her research team.

Doudna raises a glass of champagne as she celebrates with her research team. —Photo by Brittany Hosea-Small

Of Patents and Pandemics

From the start, one key question has remained unanswered, and even now, eight years later, it still hangs in the legal balance.

Who owns CRISPR?

In a world where seemingly every scientific breakthrough gets monetized, that’s a very important question. Over the past few years, the competition for the legal rights to this revolutionary technology has pitted two main camps against each other in a series of courtroom battles. On one side is a group known as CVC, led by UC Berkeley and based on the work of Doudna and Charpentier. On the other is the Broad Institute at Harvard and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), based on the work of MIT researcher Feng Zhang, who published his own work on CRISPR seven months after Doudna and Charpentier, but with one key addition—evidence that it could be used to alter genes inside eukaryotic cells, the kind that make up all plants and animals.

Though Doudna and Charpentier were the first to publish about CRISPR-Cas9, Zhang’s team was the first to obtain a patent. Since then, competing claims have been caught up in the byzantine complexities of patent law, as adjudicated by the Patent Trial and Appeal Board, which has seemed to try the Solomonic approach, cutting the CRISPR baby in half and granting each side a piece of the action. This has left a rather confusing dividing line between the two claims while leaving the door open to further challenges. As a result, it’s still hard to say exactly who owns what.

In the meantime, startups galore have taken CRISPR and run, doing science that has the potential to improve people’s lives while banking on future profits. Doudna herself is the founder or co-founder of four startups now focusing on areas of research ranging from diagnostic tests to gene therapies. Other firms are trying to use CRISPR to detect genetic mutations, create customized plants and even grow human-compatible organs inside pigs.

So it’s no surprise that CRISPR is already playing an important role in COVID-19 research.

Way back in March, Doudna pivoted in her work to seeking ways to play a constructive role in bringing the pandemic to heel. “When it was clear that we were facing a global emergency with this pandemic back in the early part of this year,” she explained, “many of us asked ourselves, ‘What could or should we be doing to use our own expertise in this time of real need?’”

Her immediate answer was to start a clinical testing lab for the virus through the Innovative Genomics Institute, where she is president and board chair. “We also raised quite a bit of donor support for this,” she noted. “Because of that, we’ve been able to offer this test for free to many people in the East Bay Area of California, where quite frankly, many of those folks don’t have access to health care. They don’t have access to testing. A lot of our partner health care organizations service the unsheltered, the uninsured folks that are first responders, people that work in the California energy sector that are keeping our power plants running, police, firefighters, people working in nursing homes.”

Those tests don’t involve CRISPR, but research on CRISPR-based tests is ongoing. And just two days after the Nobel announcement, a new article in Science revealed that one of Doudna’s research teams has developed far and away the fastest diagnostic test for the novel coronavirus yet. Though this CRISPR-based test is not yet as sensitive as tests that take a day or more to process, it can detect the virus in five minutes flat. And it can also do something else that no other test can do—quantify the amount of virus in the sample, potentially enabling doctors to tailor their treatment to the severity of the patient’s infection.

Eyes on the Prize

On Dec. 10, there will be a big celebration in Stockholm, Sweden, with fanfare befitting a new bevy of Nobel laureates. When Doudna and Charpentier receive their award—whether or not the pandemic permits them to actually step onto the stage to accept their medallions from the hands of King Carl XVI Gustav of Sweden—it will be the first time in history that two women have shared the prize in chemistry.

The monetary value of the prize they will share is 10 million Swedish krona, a bit more than $1 million. However, its value in terms of prestige and history is incalculable. Patents and startups may come and go, but a Nobel Prize is forever.

For Doudna, however, the reward is still in the work.

“I still, in my heart, think of myself as that young girl growing up in Hilo and thinking to myself, ‘Gosh, I wonder if I could be a biochemist someday.’ I still think of myself that way, right? Honestly, I still have moments when I look around at my colleagues and the people I’m so lucky to work with every day, and I think, “Wow, I’m so lucky.’ I just feel grateful. For me, that’s what it’s about. It really is. It’s about doing work that I enjoy, where I feel like I’m making a contribution.”

Memory’s Landscape

The Adventures of a Narrative Gardener: Creating a Landscape of MemoryIn his career, Ronald Lee Fleming ’63, P’04, author of the newly published The Adventures of a Narrative Gardener: Creating a Landscape of Memory, worked hard as an urban planner, preservationist and innovator, doing Main Street revitalization projects in small towns even before the National Trust for Historic Preservation took them on. In fact, Fleming says, he was once told, “Well, we’ve copied everything you ever did.”

His idea of place-making wasn’t just for Main Street, though; it also extended to home sweet home, in the form of gardens. In the book, Fleming tells the story of his life, his family and friends, his 12 gardens and the gardens that inspire him. In this conversation with Pomona College Magazine’s Sneha Abraham, he talks about why he wrote the book and, among other things, offers advice for horticulturalists who also want to be place-makers.

This interview has been condensed and edited for space and clarity.

PCM: How did you first get involved in urban planning?

Fleming: I didn’t know before college that there was such a field as planning. But I had built a little town in my backyard when I was growing up. I went to all the ghost towns in the West, and then I came back and built a little town. I called it the Ghost Town. And that’s what got me involved with all the local neighborhood kids. I was a sort of Tom Sawyer, and they were painting my fence.

Then one summer just after Pomona, I won a fellowship to Deerfield, Massachusetts, where I studied history and decorative arts at Historic Deerfield. You had to write a thesis, so I studied towns. I did a comparative study of Greenfield and Deerfield.

And while I was there, I went up to see Professor Philip Gray’s family who summered on Caspian Lake in Vermont. Peggy Gray  motored us in her ancient Pierce Arrow to this little town nearby called Craftsbury Common, which is very beautiful. And I went to a wonderful picnic with all kinds of people of all backgrounds, but they’re all enjoying each other. It was called a Strawberry Supper.

Years later, when I came back from Vietnam, a cynical reporter said to me, “What do you think you were dying for in Vietnam?”  I said, “Well, I was dying for a Strawberry Supper on Craftsbury Common.” That was a place where America came together. It was the idea of a common where people of various backgrounds and incomes all came together in harmony.

I still didn’t know there was such a thing as getting a planning degree until I met Professor Gray’s son-in-law who was teaching at MIT. He was a professor of planning, and he got me all involved in that. So when I came back to Harvard, I kind of treated that first year back as a sort of sabbatical. And then I went into planning, and that’s where I got my degree. And that’s what my whole story has been about—planning and place-making.

PCM: So what was your reason for writing this book?

Fleming: I think I had two reasons. One was to celebrate the fact that I had been able to create these 12 gardens and tell a narrative story—through a narrative garden. But I also did it for my children, to help them understand my mentality and what I was up to. And to tell the world what I valued.

Ironically, I now understand that garden-making is something of an achievement, even though I had done all these other things. I had been a fellow at the U.S. National Committee of the International Council on Monuments and Sites. I had been a fellow of the American Institute of Certified Planners. I had received a number of distinctions in my career.

But I think, really, that people may remember me as a gardener.

But it’s not just a pretty book, as one of the writers who reviewed it has said. It’s also a harrowing memoir of Vietnam. Because I was in Vietnam as an intelligence officer assigned to the Special Forces—the Green Berets. And then I was working in the embassy for a while. And then I worked for what we call “the Company.” You know, you can figure that out. All of that is in the book, in Chapter 4, which is the one that is about Vietnam. It’s also about my friends who died. So many of my friends died. So why did I write it? I wrote it to make more precious the memory of these people. And then I also had to talk about the commons, where we could all meet in the back of the garden.

PCM: What is a narrative garden?

Fleming: A narrative garden tells a story. It tells a story about a place. So what I wanted to do was to use the 12 different gardens here at Bellevue House, in Newport, Rhode Island. It’s three and a half acres with a wall around it, so it’s very private, but it’s right next to the downtown. That’s the marvelous thing about it—it’s so urban. I can walk to the club, I can walk to the art museum, I can walk to the Redwood Library, America’s first athenaeum. They’re all within a half-mile. That’s wonderful. Because I’m at the cusp of the residencial part of Bellevue Avenue where the great mansions are located. Have you ever been to Newport?

PCM: No, I haven’t.

Fleming: Newport was this great playground for America’s wealthy people in the Gilded Age. We’re living in a new Gilded Age right now, but that was a time of enormous wealth in America, after the Civil War. Before that time, it was a place of artists, and it was a place of Southerners. Southerners came up in the summertime, and they had houses here. Some of the leading families of Charleston and Savannah had houses right here, including the George Noble Jones family of Savannah who lived across Bellevue Avenue and the Middletons of Charleston who owned my land.

So first, it was a place where Southerners and Northerners got together. After that, it became an artistic retreat, and it became very wealthy. And it became, intellectually, a very powerful place. You had a whole amount of energy here, intellectual and artistic energy. Which created this district of great houses, which I’m still fighting to save on the local level. Trying to save the houses and the character of the place.

PCM: A narrative garden also tells the story of a person. In this case, you. What is it in your life that inspired you to build these gardens?

Fleming: I’ve had an extraordinary life experience. As you know, I worked hard as a planner and innovator. I did all these Main Street projects in small cities and towns. I’ve seen lots of gardens. I survived all kinds of misadventures depicted in the cascade of the years of living dangerously, all the different adventures I’ve had where I was almost killed. I almost skidded off a cliff in a Volkswagen on the edge of the Adriatic Sea 300 feet below. I survived Vietnam, where a sniper missed me by three inches. And you know, and I was almost killed by a village mob near Casablanca, when I was driving my XKE at night and they thought I had clipped a bicyclist, a Third World death sentence. I had a minute to show what happened. Later in life, I had three strokes and a kidney transplant, so with immune deficiencies, I’ve used up my nine lives and am living on borrowed time.

And so even though I’ve had years of some tranquility, all these things inspired the idea of a narrative garden that would tell the story and would relate to all these different gardens that I had seen. 

PCM: You write that programming a garden can invoke a spirit. Can you give an example?

Fleming: There’s a muscle memory that comes out of animating a garden space and doing activities in the garden. So the idea of constantly using the garden imprints on the mind the nature of the spirit of the place. I had 35 artists and artisans involved in this thing. So, I was very interested in how you involve the arts and how you make it special. And I didn’t want just the arts to be the single use zoning that we have now in cultural districts in America, where you have an art park and all the artists plopped around on the park. I’m interested in place-making, not plop art. I wanted to have the art relate to the spirit of the place.

PCM: You’ve written—I’m quoting—“Before attempting to transform the built environment, we need training in how to make visual choices and how to understand the visual language.” How do we get that kind of training?

Fleming: I think it’s hard. For instance, I think the visual environment at Pomona has not evolved so well because Pomona has made a lot of mistakes in terms of building choices. Some of the earlier architecture, site plans and buildings by Myron Hunt and Sumner Spalding were beautiful, but they haven’t respected that architecture in terms of a lot of the changes that were made. Until Robert Stern came around, that is—the new student union is quite successful in terms of relating to that vocabulary, so that was a really good choice. I think some of the other choices were not as good, and I’ve told the president about that from time to time.

PCM: You also said you’ve made some mistakes along the way.

Fleming: Yeah, I’ve made mistakes. My biggest mistake is this one garden, which is at the back of the property. What I liked about it was the plane of water and then the diagonal edge—a crisp line—and then beveled grass going up to a tempietto. So my failure was working with landscape architects with no cultural memory. Most people who are living in our age do not have the historical context —they haven’t seen it. I was away when they installed the rocks. And they put in little stones—kind of rough stones, rusticated stones—rather than understanding that what they should have done is a crisp wall edge. I’ve been to Studley Royal in Yorkshire, which is the model for my own garden folly.

PCM: What would be your advice for people building their own gardens? 

Fleming: A garden should empower a person. In other words, what I’m trying to do with a narrative garden is to show that other people can tell stories in their gardens. And everybody has a story to tell. And I think our lives are richer if we can tell a story. I want to go beyond the abstraction of just doing drifts of flowers and things like that. I want to empower people to put more meaning into their places. It’s about place-making; it’s about layers of meaning in your life and for your family. And so that’s what I hope we have achieved.

PCM: When you were a student at Pomona, was there a space that you particularly loved?

Fleming: Yes, there was. In fact, that’s where I kissed my first girl. I was a late bloomer. And there was a little courtyard, Lyon Court, next to Little Bridges. That little area there. That bench in the back, that’s where I kissed my first girlfriend.