How a Deadly Fire Gave Birth to Modern Medicine
On the evening of November 28, 1942, more than 1,000 revelers from the Boston College-Holy Cross football game jammed into the Cocoanut Grove, Boston's oldest nightclub. When a spark from faulty wiring accidently ignited an artificial palm tree, the packed nightspot, which was only designed to accommodate about 500 people, was quickly engulfed in flames. In the ensuing panic, hundreds of people were trapped inside, with most exit doors locked. Bodies piled up by the only open entrance, jamming the exits, and 490 people ultimately died in the worst fire in the country in forty years.
"People couldn't get out," says Dr. Kenneth Marshall, a retired plastic surgeon in Boston and president of the Cocoanut Grove Memorial Committee. "It was a tragedy of mammoth proportions."
Within a half an hour of the start of the blaze, the Red Cross mobilized more than five hundred volunteers in what one newspaper called a "Rehearsal for Possible Blitz." The mayor of Boston imposed martial law. More than 300 victims—many of whom subsequently died--were taken to Boston City Hospital in one hour, averaging one victim every eleven seconds, while Massachusetts General Hospital admitted 114 victims in two hours. In the hospitals, 220 victims clung precariously to life, in agonizing pain from massive burns, their bodies ravaged by infection.
The scene of the fire.
Boston Public Library
Tragic Losses Prompted Revolutionary Leaps
But there is a silver lining: this horrific disaster prompted dramatic changes in safety regulations to prevent another catastrophe of this magnitude and led to the development of medical techniques that eventually saved millions of lives. It transformed burn care treatment and the use of plasma on burn victims, but most importantly, it introduced to the public a new wonder drug that revolutionized medicine, midwifed the birth of the modern pharmaceutical industry, and nearly doubled life expectancy, from 48 years at the turn of the 20th century to 78 years in the post-World War II years.
The devastating grief of the survivors also led to the first published study of post-traumatic stress disorder by pioneering psychiatrist Alexandra Adler, daughter of famed Viennese psychoanalyst Alfred Adler, who was a student of Freud. Dr. Adler studied the anxiety and depression that followed this catastrophe, according to the New York Times, and "later applied her findings to the treatment World War II veterans."
Dr. Ken Marshall is intimately familiar with the lingering psychological trauma of enduring such a disaster. His mother, an Irish immigrant and a nurse in the surgical wards at Boston City Hospital, was on duty that cold Thanksgiving weekend night, and didn't come home for four days. "For years afterward, she'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night," recalls Dr. Marshall, who was four years old at the time. "Seeing all those bodies lined up in neat rows across the City Hospital's parking lot, still in their evening clothes. It was always on her mind and memories of the horrors plagued her for the rest of her life."
The sheer magnitude of casualties prompted overwhelmed physicians to try experimental new procedures that were later successfully used to treat thousands of battlefield casualties. Instead of cutting off blisters and using dyes and tannic acid to treat burned tissues, which can harden the skin, they applied gauze coated with petroleum jelly. Doctors also refined the formula for using plasma--the fluid portion of blood and a medical technology that was just four years old--to replenish bodily liquids that evaporated because of the loss of the protective covering of skin.
"Every war has given us a new medical advance. And penicillin was the great scientific advance of World War II."
"The initial insult with burns is a loss of fluids and patients can die of shock," says Dr. Ken Marshall. "The scientific progress that was made by the two institutions revolutionized fluid management and topical management of burn care forever."
Still, they could not halt the staph infections that kill most burn victims—which prompted the first civilian use of a miracle elixir that was being secretly developed in government-sponsored labs and that ultimately ushered in a new age in therapeutics. Military officials quickly realized this disaster could provide an excellent natural laboratory to test the effectiveness of this drug and see if it could be used to treat the acute traumas of combat in this unfortunate civilian approximation of battlefield conditions. At the time, the very existence of this wondrous medicine—penicillin—was a closely guarded military secret.
From Forgotten Lab Experiment to Wonder Drug
In 1928, Alexander Fleming discovered the curative powers of penicillin, which promised to eradicate infectious pathogens that killed millions every year. But the road to mass producing enough of the highly unstable mold was littered with seemingly unsurmountable obstacles and it remained a forgotten laboratory curiosity for over a decade. But Fleming never gave up and penicillin's eventual rescue from obscurity was a landmark in scientific history.
In 1940, a group at Oxford University, funded in part by the Rockefeller Foundation, isolated enough penicillin to test it on twenty-five mice, which had been infected with lethal doses of streptococci. Its therapeutic effects were miraculous—the untreated mice died within hours, while the treated ones played merrily in their cages, undisturbed. Subsequent tests on a handful of patients, who were brought back from the brink of death, confirmed that penicillin was indeed a wonder drug. But Britain was then being ravaged by the German Luftwaffe during the Blitz, and there were simply no resources to devote to penicillin during the Nazi onslaught.
In June of 1941, two of the Oxford researchers, Howard Florey and Ernst Chain, embarked on a clandestine mission to enlist American aid. Samples of the temperamental mold were stored in their coats. By October, the Roosevelt Administration had recruited four companies—Merck, Squibb, Pfizer and Lederle—to team up in a massive, top-secret development program. Merck, which had more experience with fermentation procedures, swiftly pulled away from the pack and every milligram they produced was zealously hoarded.
After the nightclub fire, the government ordered Merck to dispatch to Boston whatever supplies of penicillin that they could spare and to refine any crude penicillin broth brewing in Merck's fermentation vats. After working in round-the-clock relays over the course of three days, on the evening of December 1st, 1942, a refrigerated truck containing thirty-two liters of injectable penicillin left Merck's Rahway, New Jersey plant. It was accompanied by a convoy of police escorts through four states before arriving in the pre-dawn hours at Massachusetts General Hospital. Dozens of people were rescued from near-certain death in the first public demonstration of the powers of the antibiotic, and the existence of penicillin could no longer be kept secret from inquisitive reporters and an exultant public. The next day, the Boston Globe called it "priceless" and Time magazine dubbed it a "wonder drug."
Within fourteen months, penicillin production escalated exponentially, churning out enough to save the lives of thousands of soldiers, including many from the Normandy invasion. And in October 1945, just weeks after the Japanese surrender ended World War II, Alexander Fleming, Howard Florey and Ernst Chain were awarded the Nobel Prize in medicine. But penicillin didn't just save lives—it helped build some of the most innovative medical and scientific companies in history, including Merck, Pfizer, Glaxo and Sandoz.
"Every war has given us a new medical advance," concludes Marshall. "And penicillin was the great scientific advance of World War II."
Carl Zimmer: Genetically Editing Humans Should Not Be Our Biggest Worry
Carl Zimmer, the award-winning New York Times science writer, recently published a stellar book about human heredity called "She Has Her Mother's Laugh." Truly a magnum opus, the book delves into the cultural and scientific evolution of genetics, the field's outsize impact on society, and the new ways we might fundamentally alter our species and our planet.
"I was only prepared to write about how someday we would cross this line, and actually, we've already crossed it."
Zimmer spoke last week with editor-in-chief Kira Peikoff about the international race to edit the genes of human embryos, the biggest danger he sees for society (hint: it's not super geniuses created by CRISPR), and some outlandish possibilities for how we might reproduce in the future. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
I was struck by the number of surprises you uncovered while researching human heredity, like how fetal cells can endure for a lifetime in a mother's body and brain. What was one of the biggest surprises for you?
Something that really jumped out for me was for the section on genetically modifying people. It does seem incredibly hypothetical. But then I started looking into mitochondrial replacement therapy, so-called "three parent babies." I was really surprised to discover that almost by accident, a number of genetically modified people were created this way [in the late 90s and early 2000s]. They walk among us, and they're actually fine as far as anyone can tell. I was only prepared to write about how someday we would cross this line, and actually, we've already crossed it.
And now we have the current arms race between the U.S. and China to edit diseases out of human embryos, with China being much more willing and the U.S. more reluctant. Do you think it's more important to get ahead or to proceed as ethically as possible?
I would prefer a middle road. I think that rushing into tinkering with the features of human heredity could be a disastrous mistake for a lot of reasons. On the other hand, if we completely retreat from it out of some vague fear, I think that we won't take advantage of the actual benefits that this technology might have that are totally ethically sound.
I think the United Kingdom is actually showing how you can go the middle route with mitochondrial replacement therapy. The United States has just said nope, you can't do it at all, and you have Congressmen talking about how it's just playing God or Frankenstein. And then there are countries like Mexico or the Ukraine where people are doing mitochondrial replacement therapy because there are no regulations at all. It's a wild west situation, and that's not a good idea either.
But in the UK, they said alright, well let's talk about this, let's have a debate in Parliament, and they did, and then the government came up with a well thought-through policy. They decided that they were going to allow for this, but only in places that applied for a license, and would be monitored, and would keep track of the procedure and the health of these children and actually have real data going forward. I would imagine that they're going to very soon have their first patients.
As you mentioned, one researcher recently traveled to Mexico from New York to carry out the so-called "three-parent baby" procedure in order to escape the FDA's rules. What's your take on scientists having to leave their own jurisdictions to advance their research programs under less scrutiny?
I think it's a problem when people who have a real medical need have to leave their own country to get truly effective treatment for it. On the other hand, we're seeing lots of people going abroad to countries that don't monitor all the claims that clinics are making about their treatments. So you have stem cell clinics in all sorts of places that are making all sorts of ridiculous promises. They're not delivering those results, and in some cases, they're doing harm.
"Advances in stem cell biology and reproductive biology are a much bigger challenge to our conventional ideas about heredity than CRISPR is."
It's a tricky tension for sure. Speaking of gene editing humans, you mention in the book that one of the CRISPR pioneers, Jennifer Doudna, now has recurring nightmares about Hitler. Do you think that her fears about eugenics being revived with gene editing are justified?
The word "eugenics" has a long history and it's meant different things to different people. So we have to do a better job of talking about it in the future if we really want to talk about the risks and the promises of technology like CRISPR. Eugenics in its most toxic form was an ideology that let governments, including the United States, sterilize their own citizens by the tens of thousands. Then Nazi Germany also used eugenics as a justification to exterminate many more people.
Nobody's talking about that with CRISPR. Now, are people concerned that we are going to wipe out lots of human genetic diversity with it? That would be a bad thing, but I'm skeptical that would actually ever happen. You would have to have some sort of science fiction one-world government that required every new child to be born with IVF. It's not something that keeps me up at night. Honestly, I think we have much bigger problems to worry about.
What is the biggest danger relating to genetics that we should be aware of?
Part of what made eugenics such a toxic ideology was that it was used as a justification for indifference. In other words, if there are problems in society, like a large swath of people who are living in poverty, well, there's nothing you can do about it because it must be due to genetics.
If you look at genetics as being the sole place where you can solve humanity's problems, then you're going to say well, there's no point in trying to clean up the environment or trying to improve human welfare.
A major theme in your book is that we should not narrow our focus on genes as the only type of heredity. We also may inherit some epigenetic marks, some of our mother's microbiome and mitochondria, and importantly, our culture and our environment. Why does an expanded view of heredity matter?
We should think about the world that our children are going to inherit, and their children, and their children. They're going to inherit our genes, but they're also going to inherit this planet and we're doing things that are going to have an incredibly long-lasting impact on it. I think global warming is one of the biggest. When you put carbon dioxide into the air, it stays there for a very, very long time. If we stopped emitting carbon dioxide now, the Earth would stay warm for many centuries. We should think about tinkering with the future of genetic heredity, but I think we should also be doing that with our environmental heredity and our cultural heredity.
At the end of the book, you discuss some very bizarre possibilities for inheritance that could be made possible through induced pluripotent stem cell technology and IVF -- like four-parent babies, men producing eggs, and children with 8-celled embryos as their parents. If this is where reproductive medicine is headed, how can ethics keep up?
I'm not sure actually. I think that these advances in stem cell biology and reproductive biology are a much bigger challenge to our conventional ideas about heredity than CRISPR is. With CRISPR, you might be tweaking a gene here and there, but they're still genes in an embryo which then becomes a person, who would then have children -- the process our species has been familiar with for a long time.
"We have to recognize that we need a new language that fits with the science of heredity in the 21st century."
We all assume that there's no way to find a fundamentally different way of passing down genes, but it turns out that it's not really that hard to turn a skin cell from a cheek scraping into an egg or sperm. There are some challenges that still have to be worked out to make this something that could be carried out a lot in labs, but I don't see any huge barriers to it. Ethics doesn't even have the language to discuss the possibilities. Like for example, one person producing both male and female sex cells, which are then fertilized to produce embryos so that you have a child who only has one parent. How do we even talk about that? I don't know. But that's coming up fast.
We haven't developed our language as quickly as the technology itself. So how do we move forward?
We have to recognize that we need a new language that fits with the science of heredity in the 21st century. I think one of the biggest problems we have as a society is that most of our understanding about these issues largely comes from what we learned in grade school and high school in biology class. A high school biology class, even now, gets up to Mendel and then stops. Gregor Mendel is a great place to start, but it's a really bad place to stop talking about heredity.
[Ed. Note: Zimmer's book can be purchased through your retailer of choice here.]
The cover of Zimmer's new book about genetics.
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
This “Absolutely Tireless” Researcher Made an Important Breakthrough for Cancer Patients
After months of looking at dead cells under a microscope, Theo Roth finally glimpsed what he had been hoping to see—flickers of green. His method was working.
"If we can go into the cell and add in new code and instructions, now we can give it whatever new functions we want."
When Roth joined the laboratory of Alex Marson at the University of California, San Francisco in June 2016, he set to work trying to figure out a new way to engineer human T cells, a type of white blood cell that's an important part of the immune system. If he succeeded, the resulting approach could make it easier and faster for scientists to develop and test cell and gene therapies, new treatments that involve genetically reprogramming the body's own cells.
For decades, researchers have been using engineered viruses to bestow human cells with new genetic characteristics. These so-called viral vectors "infect" human cells, transferring whatever new genetic material scientists put into them. The idea is that this new DNA could give T cells a boost to better fight diseases like cancer and HIV.
Several successful clinical trials have used virally-modified human T cells, and in fact, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration last year approved two such groundbreaking cancer gene therapies, Kymriah and Yescarta. But the process of genetically manipulating cells with viruses is expensive and time-consuming. In addition, viruses tend to randomly insert DNA with little predictability.
"What Theo wanted to do was to paste in big sequences of DNA at a targeted site without viruses," says Marson, an associate professor of microbiology and immunology. "That would have the benefit of being able to rewrite a specific site in the genome and do it flexibly and quickly without having to make a new virus for every site you want to manipulate."
Scientists have for a while been interested in non-viral engineering methods, but T cells are fragile and notoriously difficult to work with.
Previously, Marson's lab had collaborated with CRISPR pioneer Jennifer Doudna and her team at the University of California, Berkeley to use an electrical pulse together with CRISPR components to knock out certain genes. They also found some success with inserting very small pieces of DNA into a targeted site.
But Roth, a 27-year-old graduate student at UCSF pursuing MD and PhD degrees, was determined to figure out how to paste in much bigger sequences of genetic information. Marson says it was an "ambitious" goal. Scientists had tried before, but found that stuffing large chunks of DNA into T cells would quickly kill them.
"If we can go into the cell and add in new code and instructions, now we can give it whatever new functions we want," Roth says. "If you can add in new DNA sequences at the site that you want, then you have a much greater capacity to generate a cell that's going to be therapeutic or curative for a disease."
"He has already made his mark on the field."
So Roth began experimenting with hundreds of different variables a week, trying to find the right conditions to allow him to engineer T cells without the need for viruses. To know if the technique was working, Roth and his colleagues used a green fluorescent protein that would be expressed in cells that had successfully been modified.
"We went from having a lot of dead cells that didn't have any green to having maybe 1 percent of them being green," Roth says. "At that stage we got really excited."
After nearly a year of testing, he and collaborators found a combination of T cell ratios and DNA quantity mixed with CRISPR and zaps of electricity that seemed to work. These electrical pulses, called electroporation, deliver a jolt to cells that makes their membranes temporarily more permeable, allowing the CRISPR system to slip through. Once inside cells, CRISPR seeks out a specific place in the genome and makes a programmed, precise edit.
Roth and his colleagues used the approach to repair a genetic defect in T cells taken from children with a rare autoimmune disease and also to supercharge T cells so that they'd seek out and selectively kill human cancer cells while leaving healthy cells intact. In mice transplanted with human melanoma tissue, the edited T cells went to straight to the cancerous cells and attacked them. The findings were published in Nature in July.
Marson and Roth think even a relatively small number of modified T cells could be effective at treating some cancers, infections, and autoimmune diseases.
Roth is now working with the Parker Institute for Cancer Immunotherapy in San Francisco to engineer cells to treat a variety of cancers and hopefully commercialize his technique. Fred Ramsdell, vice president at the Parker Institute, says he's impressed by Roth's work. "He has already made his mark on the field."
Right now, there's a huge manufacturing backlog for viruses. If researchers want to start a clinical trial to test a new gene or cell therapy, they often have to wait a year to get the viruses they need.
"I think the biggest immediate impact is that it will lower the cost of a starting an early phase clinical trial."
Ramsdell says what Roth's findings allow researchers to do is engineer T cells quickly and more efficiently, cutting the time it takes to make them from several months to just a few weeks. That will allow researchers to develop and test several potential therapies in the lab at once.
"I think the biggest immediate impact is that it will lower the cost of a starting an early phase clinical trial," Roth says.
This isn't the first time Roth's work has been in the spotlight. As an undergraduate at Stanford University, he made significant contributions to traumatic brain injury research by developing a mouse model for observing the brain's cellular response to a concussion. He started the research, which was also published in Nature, the summer before entering college while he was an intern in Dorian McGavern's lab at the National Institutes of Health.
When Roth entered UCSF as a graduate student, his scientific interests shifted.
"It's definitely a big leap" from concussion research, says McGavern, who still keeps in touch with Roth. But he says he's not surprised about Roth's path. "He's absolutely tireless when it comes to the pursuit of science."
Roth says he's optimistic about the potential for gene and cell therapies to cure patients. "I want to try to figure out what one of the next therapies we should put into patients should be."