The first time I met Dorothy was in Auburn, Alabama, in the
summer of 1948, when she was visiting the United States for the
first International Congress of Crystallography; the second time was
some eight months later, in Oxford. That we were in Oxford was
Dorothy's doing. We had left Alabama in unusual circumstances,
almost as refugees, and that David had a subsequent career in
crystallography was largely owing to Dorothy. She was a very
great arranger. She found room for David in her laboratory, she
arranged for his admission to Balliol so that he could matriculate
for a D. Phil., and when the Fulbright people announced that there
would be no science fellowships given in Britain that year, Dorothy
--- who had heard a rumor of this --- had already "taken the
liberty," to use her own words, of arranging for a Rockefeller grant
for David's support. The extraordinary thoughtfulness was typical
of Dorothy.
We had a marvelous time in Oxford. We rented a 6-bedroom
furnished house just north of the Parks, and took in lodgers to pay
the rent. Dorothy didn't really approve of this grandiosity; in her
eyes, I think, I was then and forever a typical spoiled American
brat. But one way and another it all worked out. I had a job
editing children's books at the Oxford University Press, for six
pounds a week --- a miraculous job, magically available for one
year only. I did some odd jobs for Thomas Hodgkin at the
University Extramural Delegacy. David did the structure of
lumisterol, and --- more important by far --- was having ideas about
the phase problem which emerged in his thesis. Altogether, for
some of the best and happiest years of our lives, we are forever
indebted to Dorothy.
We are far from the only people so indebted. What should be
remembered about Dorothy forever is what she did for so many
people. That she was an inspired teacher is demonstrated by the
creative lives of those whom she taught. But she taught so much
more than science, by which I mean that extraordinary and
illuminating humaneness once characteristic of the world of
crystallography because of the example and guidance of such as
she.
I refer, of course, to what might be called an Age of Innocence,
when crystallography occupied a small, rather overlooked, certainly
obscure corner in the world of science. It was very small indeed ---
in those days a meeting such as this one could be held in a large
living room; an international congress drew from all over the world
a scant 200 people. All crystallographers knew each other; they
were neighbors; they were closer than that --- siblings, you might
say, brothers and sisters sharing a family ambition for a field of
science, and very little motivated by a drive for personal power.
Competitiveness had not yet set in. This small society, this group
of friends, learned from its teachers, from none more than Dorothy,
the delight of sharing and caring, the positive joy of mutual
helpfulness and supportiveness, of kindness and responsibility
towards each other. It is impossible to express in contemporary
terms the nature of that society --- its warmth, its openness, its
pervasive sense of fun: indeed, its radiance.
There was not always perfect agreement: I speak of humans, not
angels. When I decided to write about Rosalind Franklin's DNA
work, Dorothy was discouraging, I think partly because she felt I
was diving into waters too deep for me to swim in. But she was
not herself confrontational. She had her ways, often very effective,
of dealing with situations, wasting no energy on fruitless clashes or
time on what was beyond rectifying. her comments on the
manuscript of Rosalind Franklin and DNA were sparse, and limited
to technical points --- discussion of what I was trying to do came
from Thomas. But this too Dorothy taught by her example --- that
being of one mind was not necessary, but that honesty was
essential, and always to be respected.
We live now in a rougher world and a harsher climate, but that
makes it all the more important to remember kinder and more
generous times. Nothing is the same; certainly the world of
crystallography has vastly changed. It is a large world now, and a
powerful one; in productivity it has more than surpassed the hopes
of those who worked with enthusiasm and faith and very primitive
tools. It is too romantic to recollect the history of crystallography
as an Eden lost, but it would be good and useful to remember that it
was a kindly place to live, an oasis of civility, but not interested,
really, in its potential for fetching in fame, riches, or glory. Those
were good times. They couldn't last; they didn't. But I am truly
sorry for those of you too young to have enjoyed that sweeter time;
you'd have liked it.
The good times were not accidental. They were created by
Dorothy, and by those like her. Few were her equal in generosity
of spirit, breadth of mind, cultivated humaneness, or gift for giving.
She should be remembered not only for a lifetime's succession of
brilliantly achieved structures. While those who knew her,
experienced her quiet and modest and extremely powerful
influence, learned from her more than the positioning of atoms in
the three-dimensional molecule, she will be remembered not only
with respect, and reverence, and gratitude, but more than anything
else, with love. Let that be her lasting memorial.
Anne Sayre
Montreal
July 25, 1995
Editor's Notes:
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