The DNA Double Helix
The date was February 28, 1953. There was no news coming from the Korean War that excited James D. Watson’s brain cells. The day before, chemist J. Donahue from the California Institute of Technology had made a significant correction to the nucleic acid textbook Watson was relying on to construct a structural model for the DNA macromolecule. How many chains is the structure composed of: two, three, or more? Where would the adenine, thymine, cytosine, and guanine go? If I place them on the outside, hanging from the DNA backbone, can they come together to replicate themselves, creating a genetic code for all animals and plants? How can the bases A, T, C, and G be bonded to each other and pass on the genetic message to future generations? Which bases attract or repel each other? How do we go about testing our hypothesis? The question of whether protein or DNA was the hereditary material had been scientifically established at Cold Spring Harbor in New York by Alfred Hershey and Martha Chase. American and British scientists seemed to have been engaged in a race to discover the structure of the book of life. How was this book written? Was it written in a code, or did it randomly come together? Was the code a chemical or an electrical one?
There were brilliant and outstanding chemists, physicists, and biologists on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean who were very much interested in making the covers of scientific journals and major newspapers around the world. In the United States, we had world-renowned two-time Nobel Prize–winning chemist Linus Pauling. He was very much engaged in the race to bring to America the Nobel trophy. In England, there was Rosalind Franklin, a pioneer X-ray crystallographer who was very close to discovering the double helix DNA model. Not too far from Rosalind’s workplace was Maurice Wilkins, who was employed at the biophysics laboratory of King’s College. These two brilliant English scientists were working close to each other. However, their own bodily chemistry kept them miles apart, except when Watson and Crick—but especially Watson—came around trying to push their double-helix model.
James D. Watson, an American biologist, was desperately trying to find his place among the most prominent scientists of his time. His traveling between America and Europe put him in contact with influential scientists and scientific organizations on both sides of the ocean. His scientific curiosity, approachable personality, and perseverance landed him in a research position at the Cavendish Laboratory at Cambridge University in the United Kingdom. The maverick and future Nobel laureate J. D. Watson was blessed by sharing space in the biochemistry laboratory with Francis Crick. A WWII physicist, Crick, who was twelve years older than Watson, was working toward his PhD in biology. Watson and Crick, an American and a Briton, must have had good chemistry suitable for mutual compatible communication. Francis Crick seemed to have a gregarious and contagious mood and personality. In many ways, he was the perfect complement to Watson. Crick not only came out with brilliant ideas of his own but, for the good of both, he was always carefully attentive to Watson’s observations when listening to his colleagues or attending lectures and conferences by other scientists. When something did not go right, it was expected at Cavendish for Crick’s good humor to turn it into an insightful moment.
On the other hand, there were two hardheaded Britons, each one following his own research goals and thoughts. Rosalind Franklin had many years of formal training and experience over both Crick and Watson, and she wanted test results on crystallography diffraction before making any premature announcements. Cause and effect, as well as test results, were her favorite criteria for claiming a job had been done well.
The other key player in the double helix was physicist Maurice Wilkins, whose experience included working on the Manhattan Project. Whether he met and shared his work with Albert Einstein and Robert Oppenheimer is unknown. However, we can assume that Wilkins was a good team player, as he was able to survive the secrecy his job demanded.
Despite professional intrigues, he maintained friendly communication with R. Franklin and cooperated with Watson and Crick while working on the double helix. As already mentioned, America had a superstar chemist, L. Pauling at Caltech, who dictated how chemistry should be studied and practiced. Hardly anyone would challenge his arguments, as he had discovered the exact sequence in which amino acids fold up into proteins—the building blocks of our body. However, on the DNA double-helix structure, he missed the point by a very small fraction. Otherwise, he would have been a three-time Nobel laureate. Wilkins, the physicist, may have had much in common with Rosalind Franklin on research principles, but socially they must have been worlds apart. As J. D. Watson put it, when the lab day was over, Franklin dropped her lab apron and put on a stylish and distinctive evening dress and mingled with London’s elite society.