Nobel Prize Oversight

Daily Observer

March 8, 1974

 

 

 

            The Medical Tribune, January 2, 1974 had a full page spread.  The headline said “Radioimmunoassay’s Impact on Medicine Revolutionary.”  I read it to Lapius.  For once he showed an immediate interest.

            “Read on, Harry,” Lapius commanded.

            I read on as follows.  “The word radioimmunoassay is not defined in medical dictionaries (c. 1968) still on active duty, and has also been skipped by Webster’s Third.”

            “Yet, in the nearly two decades since two New York Investigators discovered the principle of radioimmunoassay (RIA) this technique has had tremendous impact on both clinical medicine and basic research.  Its uses range from the diagnosis of digitalis intoxication to the screening of unsuspected drug abusers, and the list of applications is expanding.”

            “The late Dr. Soloman A. Berson, together with Rosalyn S. Yalow, PhD., performed the landmark research leading to RIA at the Bronx Veterans Administration Hospital and Mount Sinai School of Medicine.  Their personal evaluation of what the technique can accomplish was described succinctly in a lecture they had prepared just before Dr. Berson’s death last year.

            “’In brief,’ they summed up ‘RIA or other competitive radioassays are likely to be adapted for the measurement of any substance of interest that is difficult to measure by other means.’”

            Lapius waved his arm at me, a substantive signal to shut up immediately.  The great man wanted to speak.  I stopped reading, but he only sighed.

            “That sigh was meant to convey a message, I presume?”  I asked.       

            “Yes it was, Harry.  The sigh was a lament.”

            I was somewhat miffed that all that reading had evoked naught but a sigh.  “The article doesn’t seem to be sad.  What’s to sigh about?”  I asked.

            Lapius ignored the question.  “Do you realize, Harry, that the technique of Berson and Yalow enables us to measure substances down to a trillionth of a gram.  They have indeed revolutionized medicine.  They should receive the Nobel Prize for that work.  Up until their investigations we could only surmised at gross hormone interactions.  Now they can be proved, measured, and evaluated.”

            “And that’s what the sigh was about,” Lapius continued.  “Solly died last year, alone, while attending a medical meeting at Atlantic City.”

            “You know him?”

            “Of course.  But the Nobel-Committee has a policy that it has adhered to throughout the years with only one exception, never awarding the prize posthumously.”

            “Who was the exception?”

            “There were rumors that Berson was to be nominated but that he stipulated that unless Yalow was included, he would turn it down.”           

            “But who was the exception?”  I asked.

            “It’s not important,” Lapius said impatiently.  “However, there is now a possibility that Yalow and Berson as a team will receive the prize, because Yalow is still alive, and can accept it in behalf of Solly.”

            “Who received the prize posthumously?”

            “What difference does it make?  How well I remember Berson.  He reminded me of John Garfield.  He crackled and shot sparks like a high voltage line.  I knew him before he got into medical school, which was a long time because it took him four years after graduating college to get in.  He was rejected by 30 medical schools.”

            “Simon, never mind that, who was awarded ---?”

            “Yes 30 medical schools rejected him.  I hope he receives the Noble Prize for that alone, so that their inglorious decision can be emblazoned in brass in their hallowed halls.  Berson and an entire generation of Bersons were refused entry to medical school because they were Jews.  In those days there was a lot of racism in the school system.

            “There was a saying that Jews were aggressive, Italians lazy, Irish ambitious, and thus, with these undesirable characteristics, shouldn’t be given first choice to medical school.”

            “Well, that’s a thing of the past now, Simon.”

            “Not entirely.  Now there is a sort of reverse racism.  Schools tend to deny admission to deserving students to accept instead marginal students from the ghettos.”

            “Well, we owe it to them.”

            “Yes.  But not to marginal students.  Only to the best.  Otherwise the quality of doctors will deteriorate.”

            “But we need more black doctors.”

            “Harry. We need more doctors.  Period.  No man should be denied admittance for his race.  No man should be admitted for his race.  His credentials alone are what must count.  Actually we should probably follow the lead of many European Universities.  Admit anyone who wants to be a physician into the first year of medical school, and then graduate those only who have met the educational standard.  This would be fair and eliminate all the nonsense with respect to admission committees etc.  And there would be less risk of losing a Sol Berson by that practice.  Think, Harry.  Berson had to struggle for four years with a fearsome singleness of purpose to thwart the system that tried to exclude him from medical school.  Yet look what a tremendous contribution he made.  No one person, no committee can decide in advance who will be great.  The answer, Harry, is open admission to medical school.”

            “Simon, for goodness sakes.  Tell me, who was awarded the Nobel---.”

            “Dag Hammarskjold.”