The S.K.I. Affair (Contd.)

Ever since he was first accused by his colleagues at New York City's Sloan-Kettering Institute for Cancer Research of faking the results of a scientific experiment, Dr. William Summerlin, 35, has declined either to defend himself or to publicly explain his action. But last week, after an S.K.I, peer review committee upheld the accusation and fired him from the institution (TIME, June 3), Summerlin broke his silence. Denying any intention of deceit, he gave his version of the events that precipitated the S.K.I, scandal. At the same time, he provided his fellow researchers with a cautionary tale about the perils of high-pressure science.

Irrational Act. Summerlin had been experimenting with ways to avoid the immune system response that causes transplanted tissues and organs to be rejected. He had received wide publicity for claiming that several animals had been successfully grafted with skin from others that were genetically dissimilar. Summerlin makes no attempt to evade the main allegation against him, and admits that he used a felt-tipped pen to darken the skins of two of the 18 mice that he showed to Institute Director Robert A. Good on March 26. But he denies that this "irrational act," which followed a festive predawn breakfast of crepes and champagne, represented a willful attempt to deceive his colleagues into believing that he had grafted black skin onto white animals. He also insists that his reports of successfully transplanting cultured human corneas into rabbits were not deliberately misleading. Instead, Summerlin says, they were based on the erroneous assumption that animals that had actually received a corneal implant in only one eye had been given new corneas in both. Says he: "No one wishes more than I that the actual facts regarding the rabbits had been communicated to me."

Summerlin attributes his actions to "complete mental exhaustion" that numbed his judgment. He blames this breakdown on what he felt to be a frenetic situation at S.K.I. At the time of the mouse-painting incident, Summerlin, who was the youngest full-fledged member of the institute, was engaged in 25 research projects and, on Memorial Hospital's dermatology service, carrying an enormous clinical load as well. In addition, he says, he was under pressure from Good to complete numerous grant applications and produce significant scientific findings. As a result, says Summerlin, he simply cracked. "My error," he insists, "was not in knowingly promulgating false data but rather in succumbing to extreme pressure placed on me by the institute director."

Summerlin may not have known that the ophthalmologists who worked with him on the corneal transplants had revised the protocols for the study. But his explanation of the mouse painting, which he says he tried to discuss with Good that same day, makes little sense. Other aspects of Summerlin's defense seem frail indeed. It is difficult to support Summerlin's suspicion that Good, who had been his mentor at the University of Minnesota, turned on him and attempted to force him out of S.K.I.; as director of the institute, Good could have got rid of Summerlin without resorting to Machiavellian maneuvering. The director flatly denies that he expressed disappointment at Summerlin's failure to make any new observations in his first six months at S.K.I.

Early Doubts. Summerlin is clearly trying to shift the blame for his act onto his superior. On the other hand, though Good may not have directly pressured his protege/his enthusiasm could have had that effect on Summerlin--as could his eager promotion of Summerlin's work. In November, when Good says he first began to have doubts about Sum-merlin's experiments, he asked the researcher to withdraw a paper submitted to a scientific journal. Yet despite these doubts, Good continued to be enthusiastic about Summerlin's work well into this year. In January, for example, Good sent Summerlin a note urging him to discuss his work with a reporter from Medical World News, an action that hardly suggests suspicion. He also spoke favorably of Summerlin's studies at a February gathering at the home of Philanthropist Mary Lasker.

Sloan-Kettering staffers were generally pleased with Good's appointment in 1973. But many have since been critical of some of the changes that Good has brought about. They feel that his organizational changes have merely substituted one set of administrative obstacles for another. There are also complaints that the peripatetic Good spends little time at S.K.I, and shows too little interest in problems his researchers may be encountering.

Unhealthy Atmosphere. Good is also blamed for the Manhattan Project mentality that seems to pervade S.K.I. Most research institutions are wide-open operations in which scientists freely discuss their work with their colleagues. S.K.I.'s researchers tend to be secretive and seem to prefer to work behind closed doors.

S.K.I, scientists seem most disturbed by what they see as unrelenting pressure to produce. "You can't do good research under a deadline," says a veteran staffer. "Good science takes time. You simply cannot walk into a scientist's office, place a lump of lead on his desk and tell him he has a month to turn it into gold." Funds are indeed in short supply, economies must be practiced and many researchers feel that they must produce quickly or perish. That could explain why a scientist might be tempted to misrepresent his work. It should not, under any circumstances, excuse him for doing it.

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