Richard Lerner - Mentor, Colleague, and Friend

In this brief tribute, I wish to share some of my personal thoughts about my late mentor, colleague, and friend Richard Lerner. Other tributes have covered Richard's myriad groundbreaking scientific and professional achievments, so I will instead attempt to give a glimpse into the character and personality of this unique individual who influenced the lives of so many in such fundamental ways. I have countless vibrant memories of Richard, but none stronger than our first meeting. It was February 1992, and I had been interviewing for nearly two months at various graduate schools across the country. As someone with a visceral, but still underdeveloped interest in science at the interface of chemistry and biology, I visited Scripps with much anticipation. At that time, Scripps represented the only graduate program in the world with an expressed commitment to chemical biology as a discipline. The founding Dean of the Graduate Program, Bernie Gilula, who is inseparable from Richard in my mind, escorted me to Richard's office and asked to attend the meeting. In retrospect, I think this request was mostly for Bernie's personal entertainment, as I can see now how he anticipated much of what would ensue. Typical of Richard, there were essentially no pleasantries. In his characteristic directness, he explained that the Scripps Graduate Program intended to create a new type of interdisciplinary scientist – one that functioned like a stem cell – as dedifferentiated as possible such that they could tackle whatever important biomedical problems interested them with whatever methods were best suited to solve those problems. Only later did I appreciate that Richard intentionally used the term “dedifferentiated”, not “undifferentiated”, as he was often quick to point out in our subsequent conversations that one of the biggest challenges he faced bringing scientists at any stage of development to Scripps was that they first needed to be delearned – or stripped of the monolithic thinking and musty traditions they unwittingly carried from spending too much time at famous universities – before they could truly blossom in this special environment. Richard's words hit home because I had just experienced what he prophesized in my visits to other schools, where I was presented with Balkanized graduate programs attempting to pigeonhole young scientists into committing their futures to specialized subdisciplines. But, before I could engage further, Richard switched topics and that's when the real fun began. He next asked “where else are you considering going to graduate school?”, and I responded that I was looking at a top-ranked university (which, for the purposes of this tribute, will remain unnamed). Leaning forward in his chair like a panther about to pounce on its prey, Richard inquired “to work with whom?”, and I mentioned a well-renowned immunologist (which, for the purposes of this tribute, will remain unnamed). Richard abruptly exclaimed “Why would you want to work with him? He's a bleep, bleep, bleeping MD!”. Now, having done some homework on Scripps and Richard specifically prior to my visit, I was both impressed by the forthrightness of his comments and also a bit bewildered. As Bernie and I left Richard's office, I sheepishly asked, “Dr. Gilula, forgive me, but isn't Dr Lerner also an MD?”. To which Bernie grinned slyly, wagged his index finger, and responded “Not that kind of MD”. This recollection captures so much of what made Richard special. The vision to disrupt the status quo, the courage to communicate that vision with clarity and conviction, even when it required reinventing himself through shedding titles and accolades that had become, in his mind, irrelevant or counterproductive to the mission, the selflessness to invest his time in creating an environment for the benefit of others, and of course the sophisticated and merciless wit. Ah yes, that sense of humor. Richard was an incredible scientist and leader and an even better human being. But, what I remember most about him was how much he made me laugh…even if it was often at my own expense. I recall Richard singling out my mother at the end of my thesis defense to ask if she had any questions. As I looked at the audience to locate Mom, I noticed she was fast asleep. I later asked Richard if he saw that Mom was deep in slumber before he called on her. A half-grin emerged on his face, and he walked away (Richard had a knack for departing the room right at the moment you most wanted to hear what he was thinking). Reflecting back on those who have influenced my life, there are my parents and there is Richard. I owe Richard my entire career – from the moment I stepped onto the Scripps campus, he was there for me – giving just the right amount of nurturing, independence, cross-examination, and, most importantly, trust – trust that I could become an impactful scientist. In my final year as a graduate student, I was able to molecularly characterize a key enzyme involved in endogenous cannabinoid signaling. Richard and I both recognized that this discovery opened many new and exciting experimental directions, and most mentors would have lept at the chance to build on the finding in their own labs. But, Richard instead generously handed it to me as a launching project for my independent career. I often find that Richard is misunderstood by those who only superficially knew him. I'll hear them say, for instance, Richard succeeded in building Scripps because he was an incredible fundraiser. But, that's not what made Richard a great leader. I would even say that, as scientifically visionary as Richard was, that also was not his unique gift. What was so different about Richard is that he combined an incredible self-confidence and competitive spirit with a childlike curiosity to learn from others and a genuine interest in their success. In my experience, those traits are often mutually exclusive in a single individual. But, not for Richard. In building Scripps, Richard sought to hire and surround himself by the brightest and most creative minds, never feeling threatened that they might outthink or outperform him as a scientist. And, anytime anyone at Scripps made a discovery, Richard was the first to show up at their lab and ask to see the data. It could be the electron density map of a protein crystal structure, the confocal microscopy image of an endocytosing cell, the proton NMR of a newly synthesized natural product, or, in my case, a radiolabeled TLC image showing the lipid-hydrolyzing activity of an enzyme. His eyes would brighten, a gleeful smile would appear on his face, and, in that moment, the student or postdoctoral fellow who had shared the data would understand they had connected with Richard at his most fundamental level of interest – the pursuit of knowledge. I have never known someone so accomplished who took their greatest joy in the accomplishments of others. It is that feature of Richard's character I admire most and try so hard to emulate each and every day of my life.