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The Message in the Song

The Message in the Song: National Geographic writer Virgina Morell '71 takes us inside the research of scientists working to decode the chitters and trills of animals ranging from bats to prairie dogs.

At the Mayan ruin of Uxmal, Mexico, bat researcher Kirsten Bohn bends down beside a narrow crack in one of the ancient limestone walls. “Do you hear them?,” she asks. “The twittering? That’s our bats, and they’re singing.”

I lean in, too, and listen. It takes a moment for my ears to adjust to the bats’ soft sounds, and then the air seems to fill with their birdlike trills, chirps and buzzes.

The twittering calls are the songs of Nyctinomops laticaudatus, the broad-eared bat—one of several species of bats that scientists have identified as having tunes remarkably similar to those of birds. Like the songs of birds, bats’ melodies are composed of multiple syllables; they’re rhythmic and have patterns that are repeated.

And like birds, these bats sing not during the dark of night, but in the middle of the day, making it easy for us to see them, too.

Bohn, a behavioral ecologist at Florida International University in Miami, presses her face against the crack in the wall, and squints. “Well, hello there,” she says. I follow her example, and find myself eyeball-to-eyeball with one of the bats that’s sandwiched inside. He scuttles back, but his jaws chatter at me, “Zzzzzzzz.”

“He’s telling us to back off, to go away,” Bohn says, translating. “He wants to get back to his singing.”

That suits Bohn, who has traveled to Uxmal to record the broad-eared bats’ tunes for her study on the evolution and function of bat song—research that may help decode what the bats are saying to one another with their songs, and even teach us something about the origins of human language.

Not so long ago, most animal scientists and linguists regarded the sounds that animals and humans make as markedly different. Language was considered to be something only humans possessed; supposedly it appeared de novo instead of evolving via natural selection. And animals were regarded as incapable of intentionally uttering any sound. Songs, barks, roars, whistles: These were involuntary responses to some stimulus, just as your knee jerks when your doctor taps it. But since the 1990s, the notion of language as a uniquely human skill has fallen to the wayside as researchers in genetics, neurobiology and ethology discover numerous links between animal vocalizations and those of humans.

in-song-250Take grammar and syntax, the rules that determine how words can be combined into phrases and sentences. Most linguists still insist that animal calls lack these fundamental elements of language. But primatologists studying the vocalizations of male Campbell’s monkeys in the forests of the Ivory Coast have found that they have rules (a “proto-syntax,” the scientists say) for adding extra sounds to their basic calls. We do this, too. For instance, we make a new word “henhouse,” when we add the word “house” to “hen.” The monkeys have three alarm calls: Hok for eagles, krak for leopards, and boom for disturbances such as a branch falling from a tree. By combining these three sounds the monkeys can form new messages. So, if a monkey wants another monkey to join him in a tree, he calls out “Boom boom!” They can also alter the meaning of their basic calls simply by adding the sound “oo” at the end, very much like we change the meanings of words by adding a suffix. Hok-oo alerts other monkeys to threats, such as an eagle perched in a tree, while krak-oo serves as a general warning.

Scientists have found—and decoded—warning calls in several species, including other primates, prairie dogs, meerkats and chickens. All convey a remarkable amount of information to their fellows. The high-pitched barks of prairie dogs may sound alike to us, but via some variation in tone and frequency he or she can shout out a surprisingly precise alert: “Look out! Tall human in blue, running.” Or, “Look out! Short human in yellow, walking!”

Many animals use their calls to announce that they’ve found food, or are seeking mates, or want others to stay out of their territories. Ornithologists studying birdsong often joke that all the musical notes are really about nothing more than sex, violence, food and alarms. Yet we’ve learned the most about the biological roots of language via songbirds because they learn their songs just as we learn to speak: by listening to others. The skill is called vocal learning, and it’s what makes it possible for mockingbirds to mimic a meowing cat or a melodious sparrow, and for pet parrots to imitate their owners. Our dogs and cats, alas, will never say “I love you, too” or “Good night, sweetheart, good night,” no matter how many times we repeat the phrases to them, because they lack both the neural and physical anatomy to hear a sound and then repeat it. Chimpanzees and bonobos, our closest relatives, cannot do this either, even if they are raised from infancy in our homes.

Via vocal learning, some species of songbirds acquire more than 100 tunes. And via vocal learning, the chicks of a small parrot, the green-rumped parrotlet, obtain their “signature contact calls”—sounds that serve the same function as our names.

A few years ago, I joined ornithologist Karl Berg from the University of Texas in Brownsville at his field site in Venezuela where he studies the parrotlets’ peeping calls. Although the peeps sound simple to our ears, Berg explained, they are actually complex, composed of discrete sequences and phrases. A male parrotlet returning to his mate at their nest, a hollow in a fence post, makes a series of these peeps. “He calls his name and the name of his mate,” Berg told me, “and then he’s saying something else. And it’s probably more than just, ‘Hi Honey, I’m home.’” Because the female lays eggs throughout the long nesting season, the pair frequently copulates. And so, Berg suspects that a male on his way home after laboring to fill his crop with seeds for his mate and their chicks, is apt to call out, “I’ve got food, but I want sex first.” His mate, on the other hand, is likely hungry and tired from tending their chicks. She may respond, “No, I want to eat first; we’ll have sex later.” “There’s some negotiating, some conversation between them,” Berg said, “meaning that what one says influences what the other says next.”

bird-in-song-300Berg discovered that parrotlets have names by collecting thousands of the birds’ peeps, then converting them to spectrograms, which he subsequently analyzed for subtle similarities and differences via a specialized computer program. And how does a young parrotlet get his or her name? “We think their parents name them,” Berg said—which would make parrots the first animals, aside from humans, known to assign names to their offspring.

Parrotlets aren’t the only animals that have names (or to be scientifically accurate, signature contact calls). Scientists have discovered that dolphins, which are also vocal-learners, have these calls, although these seem to be innate; the mothers aren’t naming their calves. And some species of bats have names, which they include when singing, and in other social situations.

Bats sing, for the same reason birds do: to attract mates and to defend territories. They’re not negotiating or conversing, but their lovelorn ditties are plenty informative nonetheless. After analyzing 3,000 recordings of male European Pipistrellus nathusii bats, for instance, a team of Czech researchers reported that the songs always begin with a phrase (which the scientists termed motif A) announcing the bat’s species. Next comes the vocal signature (motifs B and C), information about the bat’s population (motif D), and an explanation about where to land (motif E).

“Hence, translated into human words, the message ‘ABCED’ could be approximately: (A) ‘Pay attention: I am a P.nathusii, (B,C) specifically male 17b, (E) land here, (D) we share a common social identity and common communication pool,’” the researchers wrote in their report.

Bohn suspects that the tunes of her bats at Uxmal convey the same type of information. “The guys are competing for females with their songs,” she says, “so they can’t afford to stop singing.” She doesn’t yet know what the females listen for in the voice of a N.laticaudatus, but expects that something in a male’s intonation or his song’s beat gives her clues about his suitability as a mate.

But her focus is on another question: Are these bats long-term vocal learners, as are humans and some species of birds, such as parrots? “If they are,” she explains, “then they might be a good model for studying the origins of human speech”—which would make bats the first mammal ever used for such research.

Bohn had earlier recorded some of the bats’ songs, and digitally altered these so that they sounded like the refrains of different bats—strangers. At the wall, she attaches a pair of microphones and a single speaker to a tripod, and points the equipment at the fissure, where the bats sing. Pushing a button on her laptop, she broadcasts the remixed bat songs to the tiny troubadours, who respond with even louder twitters, trills, and buzzes. Bohn watches their responses as they’re converted into sonograms that stream across her laptop’s screen like seismic pulses. These are territorial buzzes and contact calls, Bohn explains. “They know there’s an intruder.” She’s silent for a moment, and then beams. “Yes! One of the guys is trying to match the intruder’s call. He doesn’t have it exactly right, but he’s close—he’s so close, and it’s hard.”

But there it was: the first bit of evidence that bats are life-long vocal learners. Just like us.

The Ash Heap of Success

The Ash Heap of Success: As an expert witness in an international biotech patent suit, Professor Lenny Seligman finds his own research on trial.

ash-heap-400Expert witnesses at contentious trials can expect to be challenged, even discredited. But when he took the stand last year in a complex biotech patent case, Pomona Biology Professor Lenny Seligman never anticipated that his groundbreaking work at Pomona would be relegated to the “ash heap of failure.”

That attack line echoed from start to finish during the high-stakes federal trial in Maryland between two rival companies in the cutting-edge field of genetic engineering. The dismissive salvo was fired in the opening statement by the attorney for Cellectis, a large French firm that filed suit for patent infringement against its smaller U.S. competitor, Precision BioSciences, which had hired Seligman for its defense.

Seligman was more than just an expert witness. His research at Pomona had become a cornerstone for the case. Both sides cited Seligman’s work as a basis for the science on which their businesses had been built. Ironically, the plaintiff then found itself in the awkward position of having to undermine the validity of his work. It did so by claiming he had not actually produced anything concrete in his college lab that would invalidate the firm’s far-reaching claims.

“I don’t hold that against him,” said the counselor. “This is very complicated technology. It does not surprise me that he wasn’t able to do it. What does bother me is Precision attempting to rescue his (work) from the ash heap of failure.”

Seligman left court that day thinking, “Ouch! Did he really say that?” When cross-examined by that same lawyer, Paul Richter, Seligman found an opportunity to sneak in a mild retort, saying on the stand, “That was not very nice.” Considering the attack still in store, the lawyer might have mused, “If you thought that was bad, wait until you hear my summation.”

In those final arguments, though, Seligman’s side fired back with outrage and eloquence. Following a week of mind-numbing technical testimony, David Bassett, an attorney for Precision, rebutted the now infamous line. The court reporter transcribed the original reference as “ashes of failure,” but Seligman and others clearly remember it as a heap, and that’s the phrase that stuck.

To say Seligman’s work belonged in the “ash heap of failure” was “as incorrect as it is offensive,” said Bassett. “To the contrary, Professor Seligman’s article represented a monumental success from a small lab at Pomona College where (he) does his research with undergraduate students, 18 to 22-year-olds. And it paved the way for companies like Cellectis and Precision to do their work. … The real difference is that Professor Seligman was teaching the world what he had done and hoping that others would follow his blueprint.”

In the end, Precision won the infringement case and Seligman’s work was vindicated. The attack strategy against the likeable professor’s little-lab-that-could appeared to have backfired.

“I think that statement bit them in the ass,” he said. “Because even the jury kind of cringed when the lawyer said it. I mean, that’s really aggressive. And then when they got to know the witness—what a sympathetic guy I am—it was like, why would you do that? You could have made the point without going for the jugular like that.”

Indeed, it may have been the professor’s disarming, down home charm that won the day, as much as all the technical testimony about the DNA and microscopic structures called meganucleases. Beneath the complex science ran a compelling narrative that must have appealed to the federal jury empaneled in the district court of Delaware.

It was, in the end, a classic American underdog story.

The synopsis: Powerful and imperious European firm with raft of lawyers and battery of full-time scientists is defeated by scrappy U.S. start-up and its folksy professor with his one-man lab and part-time student assistants.

Seligman relished the role. In a PowerPoint presentation of the case presented recently to campus groups, he portrays the litigants as Team France v. Team USA. He uses slides to illustrate the uneven competition between the two companies and their dueling expert witnesses. For Cellectis, we see the flattering portrait of an award-winning genetics researcher from a big university. For the other side, we have Lenny Seligman, but the slide shows a picture of Homer Simpson.

The visual gets a big laugh.

A year after the verdict, Seligman still expresses astonishment when recalling the whirlwind experience of being a central figure in an intense international dispute about science. Interviewed in his office at Seaver Hall, where he presides as Biology Department chair, he also reflected on the awesome amounts of money circulating in science today, and what it means for those trying to teach and do research at a small, liberal arts college like Pomona.

“Part of me is happy with how things turned out,” he says. “At one level, it would have been great to be able to continue working on the I-CreI project without competition. However, we would never, at Pomona College, in my lab, have gotten to the point these two companies got to in five years. They were putting products out there, they were making enzymes that cut specific DNA sequences. It would’ve taken us so long to get there. So in the big picture, this is great. These companies are doing it, and they’re still graciously referencing our early work. It’s all good.

“We just have to find something new to do.”

Court and Class

Watching Seligman’s PowerPoint presentation about the case, posted online, gives viewers a flavor of his teaching style. He is engaging, enthusiastic and funny in a self-deprecating way. He’s also informal, standing casually at a podium with his shirttail hanging out and joking about wearing a suit only for court. But most importantly, he has a knack for explaining complex concepts to scientific novices, like college freshmen—or jurors.

The concepts in this case involved the business of protein engineering using meganucleases, which have been described as “extremely precise DNA scissors.” Scientists have developed ways to alter these naturally occurring enzymes and make them cut DNA segments at specific, targeted locations, with potentially lucrative uses in medicine and agriculture.

“Court is interesting because it’s kind of like a class,” Seligman says. “But it’s not like a class at Pomona where someone’s going to raise their hand and ask a question and stop you. When I’m in a class and I’m lecturing off-the-cuff and I can see that I’m losing students, I’ll stop and I’ll ask them certain questions. You can’t do that when you’re an expert witness, but you can still kind of get the visual cues. You still could get a sense that (the jurors) were with you, and I really felt that they were. They weren’t glazing over.”

Neither were the lawyers. They were ready to pounce on every word, eager to point out the smallest inconsistency or weakness. And Seligman was trying to make sure he didn’t slip up.

So there was no Homer Simpson on the witness stand. In court, Seligman’s easy-going, spontaneous classroom persona was restrained. The transcript of his testimony shows a witness who is cautious, serious and coldly factual. By then, he had been through hours of grueling depositions, and he knew the name of the game—Gotcha!

“Well, the whole idea (of pre-trial depositions) is for them to get a sound bite that they can use in trial,” he says. “So they ask questions really quickly. The thing that was hard, especially for someone who’s not a lawyer, is that they move from one aspect of the case to another, rapid-fire. …Your mind is over here and they’re trying to get you to slip up, so they can say to the jury, “But didn’t you testify that…?”

Seligman pounds on his office desk to impersonate an intimidating attorney.

“I felt really guarded. In class, when I get a question and don’t know the answer, the first thing I say is, ‘I don’t know.’ And so that’s my default mechanism, because I’ll figure it out, and we’ll talk about it next lecture. But if you’re getting deposed, you can’t fall back on that answer because lawyers will shoot back, ‘You don’t know? Well, on page 285 of your third report, didn’t you write this?’” Here, his tone mocks a Perry Mason moment. “So you feel you have to be on your toes all the time, and really be thinking about everything you’ve ever written.”

At times, the legal wrangling was so contentious, even the judge sounded exasperated. During one testy confrontation, U.S. District Court Judge Sue L. Robinson threatened to give the lawyers “a time out,” like an angry parent with misbehaving kids.

Underneath, Seligman perceived a bitter dislike between the two companies. It was like a battle to the death. He speculates that Cellectis’s strategy was to put Precision, the much smaller firm, out of business, bankrupted by legal fees. So Precision could win the battle and still lose the war.

Call it the ashes of success.

“Cynically, a lot of us (supporting the U.S. company) thought this was all about trying to bleed them.”

Money and Science

The experience was not all cutthroat and high anxiety, however. Seligman also recalls the excitement of being swept up into the high-flying world of international business and high-priced corporate lawyers. He describes it with the wide-eyed wonder of a kid who grew up in Claremont and still uses the nickname he was given in kindergarten, rather than his full name, Maurice Leonard Seligman.

To Lenny, it was a thrill just being in New York for the deposition and looking out onto that breathtaking Manhattan skyline. He often punctuates his story with youthful expressions, like “awesome” and “oh, my gosh!” He breathlessly describes the “war room” where a battalion of lawyers in a suite of offices prepared for testimony. (“Oh, my gosh!”) And he recalls how lawyers worked through the night preparing challenges even to illustrations planned for court the next day, putting pressure on a graphics guy to create instant substitutions. (“Oh, my gosh!”)

“And you mix that with all this adrenaline and dread of being deposed—it was really exciting,” he says.

When it came to how much the defense paid him, the response might also be, “Oh, my gosh!” That pesky attorney made a point of making him divulge the fee in court: $400 an hour. “It was more money than I had ever made in a short amount of time,” he recalled in the interview. “It was a lot of money for me.”

The amount of money these companies dumped on this lawsuit raises larger concerns about the corrupting influence of big profits on basic research.

“The whole privatization of science is something that’s certainly to be looked at carefully,” agrees Seligman. “Did I ever think to put a patent out? I’m glad I didn’t, in retrospect. If somebody wanted to choke me like they tried to choke Precision, they would serve me and I would say uncle. There’s just no way I would have the resources to fight. But beyond that, there’s just something that’s really special about open science, where everyone is sharing everything and building on each other. And once it gets into the industry, it’s not open science. They’re protecting it. They’re hiding it until they get the patent issued.”

Bringing it all back home, Seligman sees implications for his future work at a small college. How can his little research lab compete with wealthy companies, often with ties to large universities.

“That’s what we worry about all the time in a place like Pomona College,” Seligman says. “You want to do interesting science, but it’s got to be small enough that you’re not doing the same thing that the big labs are doing because we don’t have the same resources.”

Focus on Students

Beyond doing good science, Seligman and his colleagues at liberal arts colleges have another mission to worry about—teaching undergraduates. In his own lab, he notes, research must also be a teaching tool, a training ground for future scientists. In this regard, he says, Pomona is in a perfect position to compete.

The work on meganucleases is a prime example. In the early days, before big money entered the fray, much of the research was being done by students at Lenny’s lab. Today, they all have their names—as full-fledged co-authors—on those important research papers that figured so prominently in the trial.

These were not graduate students or post-docs. They were undergraduates like Karen Chisholm ’01, Adeline Veillet ’03, Sam Edwards ’99 and Jeremiah Savage ’98, who co-authored Seligman’s pioneering 2002 paper, marking the first time researchers described making mutations in a meganuclease, called I-Cre1, that altered the site where it cleaved DNA. Two years later, Steve Fauce ’02, Anna Bruett ’04 and Alex Engel ’01 co-authored another of Seligman’s key research papers, along with Dr. Ray Monnat of the University of Washington, where Seligman got his Ph.D. and did his first work on meganucleases as a post-doc in Monnat’s lab. Finally in 2006, five other Pomona undergrads—Laura Rosen ’08, Selma Masri ’02, Holly A. Morrison ’04, Brendan Springstubb ’05 and Mike Brown ’07—co-authored a third paper in which new mutant meganucleases were described.

Many former students praise Seligman as a great mentor who inspired them to pursue science in graduate school. At least 10 of these 12 student co-authors went on to get doctorates in biological sciences or M.D.’s.

“He really fostered a good environment for learning and being productive,” recalls Morrison, who got her Ph.D. from UC Berkeley in molecular and cell biology. “He had several students in there at any one time, and everybody was really good about helping each other. It was not at all cutthroat competition. It was very much a supportive team mentality and there was also a camaraderie about it.”

Today, Seligman speaks about his former students as if they were his kids. He makes a point of mentioning them in his PowerPoint presentation, and even notes who got married and who just had a baby.

“We are so lucky to be a place that gets such great students,” he says. “It’s our job to work with them, to get them excited about science and keep them excited about it. I have no doubt they’re going to do really amazing things.

“And I’m going to sit back and smile.”

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The Atomic Art of Millikan Hall

milliikanatom

Aging Millikan Hall, built at the dawn of the Space Age, is being torn down and rebuilt to state-of-the-art standards over the next two years. But the iconic atomic artwork on the west facade of the building will be preserved and prominently displayed on the new building.

atomsideviewCommissioned for Pomona College’s new math, physics and astronomy lab back in 1958, the bronze atom sculpture facing College Avenue was designed by noted sculptor Albert Stewart, whose work adorns civic buildings nationwide, including the U.S. Mint in San Francisco. Before his death in 1965, Stewart created counterparts for the atom for the facades of Seaver North and South, with an image of cell division for biology and an array of particles for chemistry.

Stewart got his start in the 1930s as an artist for the Depression-era Works Progress Administration. In 1939, he was named a professor of fine arts at Scripps College, and he soon figured in a group of prominent regional artists that included Sam Maloof and Millard Sheets. Stewart also designed and donated the Pegasus relief on Stover Walk, (though Steve Comba, associate director of the Pomona College Museum of Art, points out that the current piece is a recast from the original, apparently stolen back in the ’70s).

Today the atom sculpture on Millikan holds up better as art than as science. Professor of Physics and Astronomy Alma Zook ’72 calls it a “not-very-accurate representation of a lithium atom.”  With our present understanding of the atomic and subatomic worlds, the three electrons circling on the atom’s fringes would be more properly depicted as a dispersed cloud, rather than the classical image of a series of orbits, like planets rotating around a sun.

Nonetheless, as Zook herself notes, the design makes for a “nice threefold symmetry.” And once the new Millikan is built, the atom artwork will be returned to its rightful place over Millikan’s doorway to College Avenue as a “historical nod to the original construction,” says Andrea Ramella, project manager for the new building.

Read more here about the Millikan project.

Entrepreneurship & Social Justice

In Class with Professor Jerry Irish

In today’s small group discussion for the class, Religion, Ethics and Social Practice, six college students and three residents of Pilgrim Place discuss social entrepreneurship, which combines ideas and practices from both the business and nonprofit worlds to solve problems such as poverty and inequality. The group focuses on whether social entrepreneurs, who seek to create social value rather than wealth, are compromising their values by working within the capitalist system.

Miranda: I’m really interested in exploring the debate about whether social entrepreneurships are a Band-Aid, because you’re working within a corrupted system, or are they about trying to change that system and using the tools effectively to do so.

Eleanor: I just heard a woman over at Pilgrim Place earlier this morning, who spoke about being in China. She said she asked one of the men there, who teaches Marxism at the university: ‘Do you think Marxism has a future?’ And he said back to her: ‘Do you think capitalism has a future?’ I think if there is a possibility of envisioning a future for capitalism, it has to do with something like social entrepreneurships.

Karl: I’ve found out from my younger radical community organizing days that there is a place and a need for Band-Aids; there is a need for cooperating with the system at some point, even if you’re not altogether happy with it, and there is a need for trying to find innovative ways to bring things together that seem to be diametrically opposed—like business and community organizing. I think you come to a healthy understanding of what is the best thing to do for the most common good at the time.

Christian: I don’t see it as a Band-Aid at all. I see business and profit-seeking and these sorts of drivers as extraordinarily powerful tools. Some advancements, such as electricity and drugs like penicillin, have come about because of capitalism, because we incentivize them. If you have the motivation from the get-go to do something for the social good, a social entrepreneurship can be a truly amazing tool that can be used in really cool ways. That’s the way I see it, but I come from a family that is very pro-business, very different from a lot of people in this room.

Irish: In Bangladesh, Muhammed Yunus tried a Band-Aid. He found that for $27 dollars he could relieve 42 women stool makers in Jobra of their indebtedness. But just for one week. And then the loan sharks would come right back. It was his idealism about trying to overcome the poverty gap he saw in this village that alerted him to the fact that he needed to go beyond a Band-Aid. He rallied his students and took them to talk to people in the community to see what they needed. That’s when he got the idea that maybe he could leverage the banks. When he discovered he couldn’t, he created his own bank. Do any of you see in either your placements or project proposals the seeds of something like this in the future? Are there ingredients that you could imagine one day that you would employ or work off of as a social entrepreneur?

Christian: My proposal is trying to understand the adherence to medication in Third World companies. One of the major issues is the way the pharmacological system works. Drug companies send HIV and TB medication to Third World countries as window dressing, without any analysis of what’s needed. It’s extraordinarily expensive, especially when you deal with adherence issues, which means the disease becomes resistant and then you can’t use first-line drugs. And these programs don’t even come close to offering second-line drugs.

Becca: This is about the Coronado Garden project I work on with the Draper Center. It’s an organic garden and a curriculum on food justice and environmental justice at Coronado, an alternative high school in West Covina. The teacher has expressed an interest in selling plants, which could be a way to make the whole project self-sustainable. It would also get merged into a small business class. I’m struggling with envisioning this transition.

Mia: Why do you struggle?

Becca: I think it’s the idea that we’ve been very much trying to cultivate the garden as this safe green space and connect food justice and environmental justice with greater societal injustices and connect that with students’ everyday lives, so encouraging them to use the garden as a tool for money—although it would create a self-sustained project, it feels hypocritical to me.

Miranda: I don’t think that is hypocritical because when you’re incorporating funding into a closed loop, self-sufficient system, you’re ultimately benefiting the project for the future.

Irish: You’re changing the definition of investment, that the capital gets invested in a social purpose. What you’re exhibiting are the skills that are entrepreneurial, and I don’t think some of these skills need to be understood simply in terms of a profit. This gets closer to this issue that you brought up in your reflections, a new kind of citizenship and—I hate to bring in my friend Niebuhr (laughter)—the notion of responsibility to a larger social group.

Christian: You have to play it like a community organizer and trust that people will tend to do the right thing most of the time. By allowing capitalism to inject itself into these social entrepreneurships, we worry about becoming tainted, but it leverages all you can do. If you were to talk about Bill Gates in the late ’90s, you’d say he was completely co-opted by the capitalist system, but look at the way he’s leveraged the funds he produced. The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation is a great example; it does really good stuff and is extraordinarily efficient, much more efficient than any other charity or nonprofit group.

Karen: I’m learning a lot from hearing the stories from the elders and the things that we’ve all experienced about having a vision for some sort of project and then having the initiative to do it. I feel I don’t have a full grasp of all of that yet, but I’m definitely learning. I really like the idea that social entrepreneurship is contagious. You start something and then the people you work with are empowered to do their own thing. I feel like I’m catching the bug here.

Changing the Equation

When he started thinking about college, Johnny Huynh ’14 had two goals—to leave his hometown of Claremont and to attend a large research university. That all changed after a weekend visit to Pomona, where he says he “fell in love with the College.” A first-generation college student and son of Vietnamese immigrants, Johnny balances a demanding academic schedule as an economics and mathematics double major with weekly outings to Pomona’s Organic Farm, where he can practice the gardening skills he learned from his mom.

It All Starts With Lunch
“Before I came here, I thought that having lunch with professors was just a marketing spiel—I figured they had their research and classes and wouldn’t have time to talk to students. I was really surprised. I’ve had lots of dinners and lunches with professors. I think it complements your learning, and because you know them, you’re not afraid to ask questions.”

johnnyDigging Deeper
“I was really motivated by a course on labor economics I took with Professor [Michael] Steinberger and approached him about doing summer research. The project we worked on was evaluating a specific conditional cash transfer (CCT) program in Malawi that targets schoolgirls 13 to 22 years old. CCTs are welfare programs, mostly in developing countries, that distribute cash to families to encourage more schooling and to increase test scores. The current literature finds that on average the conditional cash transfers are more effective than unconditional transfers, but what the research hasn’t looked at yet is the heterogeneity—whether some students respond differently than others.”

Changing the Equation
“What we found when we crunched recent data from the World Bank is that the subsidies are more effective at increasing attendance to the 80 percent benchmark if a student is already attending at high rates of schooling, say, 70 percent or more. Raising attendance from 10 to 80 percent is much harder, because so many children from poor families have to work. Giving that up to attend school means a lot of lost income for their families. “One of the things we’re proposing as a way to improve educational opportunities for these students is that the threshold for attendance be lowered from 80 to 50 percent. Another alternative would be to increase the cash subsidy to offset the income these girls would be giving up to be students.”

Learning to Roll With the Punches
“As a researcher, you can’t anticipate what you’re trying to find. If you’re looking through the data or building a theoretical model, the outcome might be different from what you expected, so you have to learn to change gears and roll with the punches. You’re not entirely sure what you’re going to write about because it’s new research, something no one has ever done before. It’s difficult, but it’s really, really rewarding.”

Not Just Theoretical
“Both my parents were immigrants from Vietnam, and neither of them attended high school, let alone college. They both still work for the minimum wage, and our housing is subsidized. Being on welfare affects me personally as well as theoretically, and I think it’s valuable to have a perspective that a lot of researchers don’t have, especially when it comes to public policy programs and finding out which ones work and which ones fail.”

A Message to Pomona
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. That’s the first thing I would say. That dominates everything else. I’m grateful I had the chance to come here, and that Pomona does so much to help students in need. After I graduate, I’d like to somehow help reform the social safety net, so other people can get the help they need to succeed.”

Strengthening Summer Research

Johnny Huynh ’14 was among the more than 220 Pomona College students who spent last summer conducting research on topics ranging from organic solar cells to Joseph Haydn’s keyboard sonatas. About 80 percent of the students were supported by the College’s Summer Undergraduate Research Program (SURP), which provides funding for up to 10 weeks of collaborative research in the natural sciences, social sciences, arts and humanities.

Expanding and strengthening summer research is one of the goals of Campaign Pomona: Daring Minds. Since the start of the campaign, the number of students participating in supervised summer research has grown by about 26 percent, thanks in part to 20 new endowed and expendable funds established by foundations, alumni and other donors. The funding is critical to the program, permitting students of all income levels to take part without sacrificing summer income.

Economics Professor Michael Steinberger, who worked with Huynh last summer, says the grants “help brilliant students, like Johnny, to spend the summer producing high-quality research. Instead of trying to find time to research while working another job, Johnny was able to focus entirely on our project. He learned a lot about the process of research, and I learned some new econometric techniques while working with him.”

While much of the research was conducted on campus, students also traveled across the country to work in labs at Tufts University in Boston and the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colo., and to conduct research in 14 countries, including Sweden, India, China and Chile.

In September, students lined Stover Walk to present the results of their research to the College community at the 26th annual SURP poster conference. For some of these students, their projects will develop into senior theses or continue on as the basis for co-authored papers with faculty and presentations at local and national conferences.

“Johnny’s supported summer research will be essential to help him get into a high-tier graduate school,” says Steinberger. “I expect our project will place in a top journal, and I’m excited for the real-world policy implications of our findings.”

Coffee with Conscience

nikki

 

Sociologist Nicki Lisa Cole ’02 carries around an accordion file stuffed with empty, flattened coffee bags she has collected from cafes across the U.S. over the last several years. Each item in her collection, begun when a package of coffee at Starbucks caught her eye, bears imagery or prose that hints at the ethical considerations behind the beans’ journey across the world and into your cup.

As the labels pile up, it’s a lot of information for Cole to parse. And so it is for everyday coffee-drinkers as well. With so many coffee-with-a-conscience practices operating—fair trade, direct trade, organic, shade grown, bird friendly—understanding the different approaches to ethically-sourced coffee, each with pros and cons, would seem to require pursuing dissertation-level research on the topic.

Cole did just that. She became so fascinated with the messages being sent to consumers about ethically marketed or produced coffee that the issue came to drive her doctoral research. Now a lecturer in sociology at Pomona, Cole writes blog posts (21centurynomad. com) on coffee sourcing that are broadly followed, and her expertise has been sought by The Nation, Conducive Magazine and others.

As part of her Ph.D. research, Cole queried 230 coffee drinkers, all of whom identified themselves as regular consumers of some kind of ethically-produced coffee. “Uniformly, people have a very vague, surface-level knowledge of what’s going on,” says Cole. “They tend to recognize the fair trade label, for instance, and know it stands for something good, but most have not done much research.”

With this hazy awareness, the heart of the matter can get lost. Cole wants to remind us why ethical sourcing for coffee is necessary. The reasons include historically low prices that make life a struggle for small producers, fluctuating prices because coffee is traded on the commodities market and price gouging of small producers by large transnational buyers.

So what can coffee drinkers do?

No system is perfect, but Cole says ethical coffee practices do, in fact, make some positive differences around the world. And so her one cup of coffee and one double espresso per day is always fair trade or direct trade. “While I have critiques of all the models out there, I always advocate for picking one that resonates with you and going with it, because it’s better than not,” she says.

The first step: “Ask about the coffee where you buy it: What are the sourcing practices behind this coffee?” Cole says.

The café or coffee shop owner might tell you that they import fair trade certified coffee because they value how the higher price supports community development, or that the certification standards require environmental practices such as minimized use of agrochemicals and water-conserving irrigation systems. Or, you might learn that they happily pay an even higher cost for direct trade coffee (also “relationship coffee”), purchased directly from a grower they trust, as opposed to a cooperative of producers, like in fair trade.

And if they clam up?

“If they can’t tell you what their sourcing practices are, that’s generally a bad sign. It’s probably not the place to get your coffee,” says Cole, a Pomona sociology major who earned her Ph.D. in the same field from UC Santa Barbara. “Most people in the industry who are using some sort of ethical sourcing are proud ofdoing that and want to share that with you.”

Cole points to the transparency of Portland-based Stumptown Coffee Roasters, which practices the direct-trade approach. “They claim ‘our books are open,’” Cole says. Want to learn exactly what price was paid to what producer practicing what methods? You got it.

But even if your coffee vendor provides evidence of ethical sourcing practices, how do you know which system is best? Cole says that depends on what you value. For example, fair trade certification requires a premium be paid on top of the minimum price per pound, which is then used to help workers, farmers and their families through such projects as school improvements, student scholarship provisions or the establishment and maintenance of healthcare clinics. The direct trade model does not provide for this kind of community betterment, according to Cole.

On the other hand, Cole notes, the democratic structure of fair trade cooperatives, where leadership constantly rotates, makes it difficult for buyers to nurture long-term, trusting relationships with producers. Since direct-trade buyers work directly with producers instead of cooperatives, it’s possible to cultivate close, symbiotic relationships in which both parties benefit—buyers pay a higher price for the assurance of high quality coffee, which in turn affords growers a higher level of economic stability.

Also worth considering is Fair Trade USA’s 2012 split from Fair Trade International for the explicit purpose of including large-scale plantations in the fair trade system. When the decision was made, Cole stirred up quite a bit of discussion by declaring “Fair Trade is dead” on her blog, referring to the ramifications of this decision. She still has plenty to say on the matter: “I fear that it’s very bad for small producers, squeezing them out of a market that was supposed to be a fair market.”

Fair Trade U.S.A.officials have defended the move as a way to benefit more farmers and workers, and to allow more consumers to buy Fair Trade products. Cole, though, says there is not nearly enough of a market to support current fair trade coffee production, so adding larger plantations will harm existing fair trade producers.

True to her small-is-good approach, Cole frequents the independent Last Drop Café, located in the Claremont Village just a block or two from campus. “We usually talk about coffee, and it’s been interesting learning about her opinions and insights,” says owner Mike Manning. “Her students have definitely learned a lot from her.”

One thing you might be surprised to learn about Cole, considering the depth of her knowledge and the hundreds of coffee shops she’s visited over the years: She is not a voracious coffee drinker. She is definitely a fan, but has reduced her consumption in consideration of the intense physical efforts that go into cultivating, harvesting and processing coffee beans.

Cole says choosing the higher-priced fair or direct trade coffee, but consuming less coffee overall, is one way to make a difference: “If we change our orientation to the value of goods and to respecting the labor that goes into them, paying a truly fair and just price for those goods, we would see different conditions.”

Caring in the Wild

Starting this June, Nikki Becich ’13 launched into a year-long journey to pursue her passion for conservation medicine. Over the summer, Becich cared for injured birds at the hospital of the National Aviary, before venturing out on a career-building trip to work and learn at wildlife centers throughout Latin America.

FINDING HER PASSION
Becich had several jobs and internships in zoo and avian medicine under her belt by the time she graduated. She knew she wanted more experience, and found a great match in the National Aviary, an indoor zoo home to more than 500 birds in Pittsburgh, Penn., and where she first volunteered in middle school.

At the Aviary, Becich worked with the center’s two veterinarians as a hospital intern. She helped them with surgeries, medications and daily caretaking, looking after birds brought in from the wild along with the zoo’s regular residents on exhibit.

Becich went into the internship with a focus on treating captive animals, particularly species that are endangered or extinct in the wild. Looking back, she says the experience inspired her to consider the bigger issue of environmental protection.

birdholdGETTING THE BIG PICTURE
Knowing she needed more hands-on training, Becich spent part of her senior year mapping out a trip to practice wildlife care at nature preserves in Central and South America. After graduation, she set off.

“I planned out the trip to apply for the Watson Fellowship, and when I didn`t get that, I decided to blow my savings and do it anyway, because it`s incredibly important for my future career to work and learn abroad,” she explains.

Becich started the first leg of her trek in September as a volunteer at an ecological center in the Amazon rainforest in Ecuador. She also is pitching in at Bioparque Amaru Zoo, developing preventative medicine protocols for a new veterinary clinic. In coming months she will intern at wildlife sanctuaries in Peru and Guatemala, helping to rehabilitate injured animals and promote local conservation projects. Becich says her connections from earlier programs were essential in helping her network and make contacts overseas.

She aims to learn first-hand how communities and organizations in the region are coping with threats like oil drilling, which, she says, can contribute to pollution and deforestation. “Meeting real people and seeing for myself what is happening has been extremely informative, but an emotional roller coaster,” Becich says, speaking from Ecuador. “What’s encouraging to see is how there is still protected forest here. We have time. We need serious action, though, and fast, if it`s going to survive.”

THE PATH FROM POMONA
A biology major, Becich mentions Professor Nina Karnovsky as an important mentor who “encouraged me to pursue my love for birds and go after work in conservation.“ She also points to the influence of her semester abroad in a tropical ecology program in Costa Rica, which shifted her focus toward environmental protection.

At Pomona, Becich explored her interests in other parts of the community. She got involved in caring for chickens at the Organic Farm, even raising a few chicks in her dorm in Harwood one year until they were ready to join the flock.

Becich is already looking ahead to her vision of combining medical practice with international research in ecology, with plans to attend veterinary school in the U.S. “I really came into my life’s passion this summer. I am so excited to be here doing what I am doing, and I am so grateful to Pomona for helping to get me there.”

Letter box

What’s Behind Walker Wall?

I am writing regarding the history of Walker Wall found on the College’s website. That article reports that the wall “remained unadorned until the spring of 1975, when several students painted ‘Free Angela’ on its inner surface, referring to the imprisonment of Black Panther and Communist Party activist Angela Davis after her conviction on murder conspiracy charges.”

As I recall it, Walker Wall comments started two years earlier, during the 1972-73 school year.

My recollection is that one night just before Founders Day someone spray-painted a phrase on Walker Wall near the pass-through to go toward Honnold Library. The phrase was not particularly clever or political, but it was potentially offensive, perhaps scatological. I was an R.A. for Clark V that year and knew that maintenance would not be able to do anything before alumni were on campus, but I did have access to painting supplies from Zeta Chi Sigma, my fraternity. Betsy Daub ’74, also in Zeta Chi Sigma, allowed herself to be enlisted and our quest became covering over the offending text. We used rollers and white paint to neatly block out the graffiti.

What happened next is somewhat lost to me. Somehow we wound up adding our own phrase on the white surface we had created. As I recall, we had each been considered as possible members of the Mufti crew, and in that spirit we came up with the phrase “Veni, Vidi, Vino” and signed it in some way. That comment stayed for some time and others followed. Although I knew several members of the Pomona administration fairly well, I don’t remember any discussion about the wall, and I don’t think Betsy or I was ever questioned about it.

—Jo Ruprecht ’73
Las Cruces, N.M.

Case for the Liberal Arts

President David Oxtoby’s Aug. 7 letter, directed to alumni of the College, brings up the perennial question “Is liberal arts education still relevant in today’s world?” This question requires a perennial answer:  Soon after my graduation from Pomona, I found myself locked into a career in engineering, despite the fact that most of my education had been in art and the humanities. Yet that liberal education proved to be relevant in my unexpected career path. If monetary reward is the main goal, and sadly that is often the case, then one is likely to miss the practical benefits of a liberal arts education, as well as the enrichment of one’s quality of life.

“Liberal education” asks more questions than it answers. This can provide some valuable mental equipment, for answers often become obsolete with time. But if the habits acquired in looking for answers remain with you, and the habit of recognizing analogies is developed, you will have acquired a transferable ability which, unlike rigid collections of facts, can go on helping you generate answers to problems in any field.

—Chris Andrews ’50
Sequim, Wash.

All-Star Mistake?

I have to hand it to you. The “Who Did You Get?” article and trading cards in the Summer 2013 edition of PCM are, perhaps, the most offensive thing I have ever seen in the magazine since I graduated in 1972. Quite an achievement.

Please understand, I am not denigrating the achievements of those honored; their accomplishments are noteworthy and deserve praise—but not by implying (if not actually stating) that all the rest of us just don’t measure up.

Not really worthy of calling Pomona their alma mater, and pretty much beneath the College’s concern. Whether you realized it or not—and my sincere hope is that you didn’t—elevating a few graduates to “Pomona All-Star” status relegates the rest of us to just being average. Banjo hitters. Utility players. Minor leaguers. Barely above the Mendoza Line.

That is not how I like to think my college views me. And yet, there it is. At least you deigned to give us the privilege of “round[ing] up a few of [our] Pomona pals” so we can presumably trade cards. I can hardly wait.

Maybe in the Fall 2013 issue you can identify the biggest donors so far in 2013, and the amounts they’ve given. “Who’s gonna come out on top?” “How much did he/she give?” “Can you believe that [fill in the blank] isn’t on the list?” Now I’ll bet that would be a competition the College could really get behind!

—G. Emmett Rait, Jr. ’72
Irvine, Calif.

Baseball and Bytes

Your article on Don Daglow ’74 and his contributions to computer baseball could have been written, without many changes, about me—if I had just been born a few years earlier. Like Don, I loved the All-Star Baseball board game and was an English major. I wrote my first All- Star Baseball simulation using punch cards on an IBM 1620 in my sophomore year of high school in 1974—just three years too late to gain immortal fame!

I also applied at Mattel to work on Intellivision, but here our paths diverge, for alas, I was not hired. However, my All-Star Baseball game did have one last gasp of life—if you can find an ultra-rare copy of Designing Apple Games with Pizzazz (Datamost, 1985), you’ll find a whole chapter, with source code, devoted to a game called Database-ball.

—John “Max” Ruffner ’81
North Hollywood, Calif.

Fraternity Memories

The letter from Leno Zambrano ’51 in the summer issue of PCM surprised me. I knew Leno as a classmate but I had no clue he was homosexual. I have no recollection of Leno seeking membership in the KD fraternity, of which I was president in the spring of 1951. Not all the men at Pomona in those days felt the need to join a fraternity. Some of them were former members of the military and were beyond the need to join a social fraternity. I don’t know if we had any homosexuals among our KD members at that time, but if we did, they kept it to themselves. We had no policy against homosexuals, per se, in our fraternity mainly because it was never one of the factors we discussed during our consideration of prospective members.

—Ivan P. Colburn ’51
Pasadena, Calif.

I was dismayed to learn from the letter by Don Nimmo ’87 in the summer issue that the fraternity/community Zeta Chi Sigma has ceased to exist. When did this happen, and why? I joined Zeta Chi in my sophomore year—freshmen were not permitted to join frats in those days—and my membership was a significant part of the college experience for me, and not only because of playing pool or watching College Bowl every Sunday. I’ve mentioned Don’s letter to other alumni from that era and am assured that I’m not alone in wondering what happened.

—Steve Sherman ’65
Munich, Germany

Alumni and friends are invited to email letters to pcm@pomona.edu or to send them by mail to Pomona College Magazine, 550 North College Ave., Claremont, CA 91711. Letters are selected for publication based on relevance and interest to our readers and may be edited for length, style and clarity.

The Launch

The magazine you hold was born 50 years ago this fall as Pomona Today, when the sharp new publication replaced an alumni newsletter. And while the name has long since changed to Pomona College Magazine, it seems about half of our readers still know it by the old moniker. (Call us whatever you want—just keep reading.)

pomonatodayThe pages of the first issue are laden with an early-’60s sense of purpose: men in suits and ties assembled around a cyclotron, a professor exploring the “Frontiers of Science,” a photo showing light—and, no doubt, knowledge—aglow through the glass doors of the newly-built Seaver Laboratory. A Space Age feeling pervades: All that’s missing is a make-your- own Gemini capsule cutout.

Heavy play is given to then-New York Times editorial page editor John Oakes’ commencement address, “Smashing the Cliché,” in which he tells students, “man will soon be searching, not by proxy but in person, the pathways of the stars … in your lifetime you will witness man’s arrival on new planets, his penetration of the outer void, his unfolding of the mysteries of the universe.”

In “The Case for the Liberal Arts College,” Professor W.T. Jones notes that “The fundamental fact of modern life is the acceleration of change—economic change, social change, political change, cultural change. … Indeed, in the physical sciences, the rate of change is so great that theories which are “true” when a freshman enters college are likely to be exploded by the time he graduates.”

My favorite bit of writing from that issue, though, is a short caption accompanying a photo of two pensive-looking classmates that simply reads: “Students in a complicated world.”

Fifty years later, the world grows more complicated and the change keeps coming. But PCM is still here, in print and online. Our circulation has yet to reach new planets; there is no home delivery to the “outer void.” Strangely, the birth of each new issue still feels as heady and fraught as an early-’60s rocket launch. And when it’s over, we editors come crashing back down to Earth, and get to work on the next one.

On Board

On Board

Three new trustees have been elected to Pomona’s governing board.

janet-benton-200Janet Inskeep Benton ’79 received her M.B.A. from Harvard Business School before working in product management in the beverage division at General Foods Corp. from 1984-88 and then staying home and raising her children.

Benton also served for 12 years on the board of the Chappaqua Central School District, a high-performing K-12 public school district with six schools and 4,000 students. A resident of Armonk, N.Y., Benton is the founder and trustee of Frog Rock Foundation, which supports not-forprofit organizations serving economically disadvantaged children and youth in Westchester County. Additionally, she serves on the boards of several local not-for-profit organizations: Children’s Village, supporting vulnerable children and families through residential and community outreach programs; Jacob Burns Film Center, presenting independent, documentary and world cinema and offering 21st-century visual literacy educational programs to students; and Neighbor’s Link Network, which oversees affiliate organizations working to help integrate immigrants into local communities.

steve-loeb-200Stephen Loeb ’79 P’09, P’13 joined Alaska Distributors Co., an asset management company—formerly a wholesale distributor and broker of wine, beer, spirits and non-alcohol beverages—in 1984 and has served as the president since 1998 and CEO since 2003. Prior to that, he was a corporate banking officer and then assistant vice president with Wells Fargo and Co. An economics major at Pomona, Loeb went on to earn his M.B.A. from Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Management and was a finalist for the Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year in 2003 and 2004.

He serves on the boards of the Museum of Glass, the Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle, KCTS Television (PBS), The Rainer Club Heritage Fund, and the Temple deHirsch Sinai and Jewish Family Service Investment Committees.

He is treasurer of the Loeb Family Charitable Foundation and president of the Stephen and Dianne Loeb Family Foundation. His most recent business-related board work is on the Washington Roundtable and Enterprise Washington. Formerly the College’s Parents Fund co-chair along with his wife, Diane, Loeb is currently Pomona’s national chair for annual giving. He and his wife have two daughters who graduated from Pomona.

peter-sasaki-200Peter Sasaki ’91 is a managing member of CGS Associate, LLC, a New York City-based boutique financial consulting and research firm, and a shareholder and investor at Centara Capital Group Inc., a financial services firm in San Diego, where he manages capital markets and structuring for a real estate derivatives business and advises private wealth management programs. Previously, he was founder, managing member and CIO at Logos Capital Management, LLC; a market analyst and derivative-trading specialist with Moore Capital Management Inc., a propriety trader with J.P. Morgan & Co.; and founder of Sasaki Group Ltd., an investment partnership specializing in leveraged equity, foreign exchange and interest rate speculation. Sasaki was a philosophy major at Pomona and has an M.B.A. from the Leonard N. Stern School of Business at New York University. He serves on the Head of School’s Advisory Council at the Hopkins School in New Haven, Conn., and is an instrument-rated private airplane pilot.