 Dr. Walter Jennings
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In 1953, I was still working on my Ph.D. thesis when the department chairman offered me a faculty position, albeit at the
lowest rung of the academic ladder. Jobs were scarce in those days, and I accepted. I fully realized that I was taking a serious
risk in joining a faculty where I had been a student — there was a danger of always being considered a student, unless I could
establish myself in a field that was clearly differentiated from all of my former professors. Gas chromatography (GC) had
been envisioned in 1948 — A.J.P. Martin received a Nobel Prize for his work in liquid chromatography; in his award address,
he theorized that a gas might be used as the mobile phase in chromatography. GC was demonstrated roughly in 1952 (1), and
its potential was defined more clearly by Ray in 1954 (2). This was the year I was searching for my field of study, and on
a visit to the USDA laboratory in Albany, California, I met Keene Dimick, who was constructing his first gas chromatograph.
I was fascinated with the concept, and Dr. Dimick offered to serve as my mentor. He gave me diagrams, bits and pieces of apparatus,
and an abundance of support and advice. Dimick later founded Wilkins Instrument, which evolved into Aerograph, and ultimately
Varian Instruments. I built my first GC system in 1954, which was essentially a copy of Dimick's. In 1957, I published a paper
that was well received (but which I wish I could disown today), and a senior professor called me into his office. I am convinced
he had nothing but my best interests at heart when he told me that my paper on GC was a good start, but that this was a flash-in-the-pan
field, and I should now find another research area if I wanted to survive to tenure. It was my great good fortune that I ignored
that advice.
In the ensuing years, my graduate students and I first concentrated on flavor chemistry; that is, the isolation, identification,
and biosynthesis of natural flavor compounds in a variety of fruits. Our studies on the Bartlett pear (Europeans know this
as the Williams pear) were particularly successful, and attracted the attention of a Swiss group that was organizing a symposium
on fruit flavors. When they offered to cover my expenses, I happily agreed to present our findings at their 1965 meeting in
Zurich. It was a well-attended meeting, our presentation was very well received (particularly by Givaudan scientists), and
I made a number of contacts and connections.
Back in the laboratory, we graduated from packed to open tubular columns, and in 1966–1967, probably as a result of the Swiss
exposure, I spent a sabbatical year in Vienna working under the auspices of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA)
identifying the products of food irradiation. We had an apartment in the city close to Schoenbruhn, my three children were
enrolled in Viennese schools, and my laboratory was in the suburb of Seibersdorf, which housed the atomic reactor and a team
of about 100 scientists from myriad countries. The common language was German, and it was such an atrocious German that it
was difficult for my wife (a German war bride) to avoid breaking into merry laughter on many social gatherings. Taste panels
that sampled the irradiated food were composed of volunteers that were usually in short supply, but a senior scientist, Dr.
Harry Gorseline, insisted on personally sampling all irradiated products. There was a beautiful young Viennese receptionist
reigning at the lobby desk in Vienna, and when the 80-year-old Harry eloped with her, it precipitated a flood of volunteers
for the tasting panel. In subsequent years, the IAEA gave me short assignments into several eastern European countries — Poland,
Bulgaria, and Czechoslovakia — in the days when the iron curtain was very real; some of those assignments were pleasant, while
others were like bad dreams. After each such assignment, I was debriefed in Vienna, and then made my way into Germany to visit
my wife's relatives before returning home.
In 1967, I also spent several months in Switzerland, working at the research station in Waedenswil, just outside Zurich. Here
I met Professor Kurt Grob, who gave me my first glass capillary column. I immediately realized that I had been working in
the stone age of GC: Grob's columns generated superb separations, the chromatograms were beautiful, and I hastened to move
my efforts into this new field.