Monday, October 30, 2017

A00005 - Isabella and Jerome Karl, Prize Winning Scientists

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Dr. Isabella L. Karle in an undated photograph. Her work helped give pharmaceutical researchers a better idea of the chemistry going on inside the body in their efforts to make drugs to treat illnesses.CreditNaval Research Laboratory
Isabella L. Karle, whose experiments elucidating the shapes of molecules contributed crucially to her husband’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry, died on Oct. 3 in Arlington, Va. She was 95.
The cause was a brain tumor, her daughter Louise Karle Hanson said.
Dr. Karle was an expert in bouncing X-rays off crystals to deduce the structure of molecules by observing patterns in the deflected rays. When she and her husband, Jerome Karle, joined the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington in the mid-1940s, the technique was limited and arduous. Scientists did not know how to apply it to most molecules, like large biological ones.
In the 1950s, Jerome Karle, together with Herbert A. Hauptman, a mathematician, developed a technique that could be used for more complex, three-dimensional structures. But they had trouble convincing anyone that it would work.
“My father never actually did a crystal structure in his life,” Ms. Hanson said.
It was her mother who showed that the technique did work.
Isabella Karle had taught herself X-ray crystallography and came up with practical applications of her husband’s theory, which she used to puzzle out the structure of molecules in substances like drugs, steroids and frog toxins.
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Bhakta B. Rath, a former associate director of the naval laboratory, said, “Isabella Karle took the task of deciphering the theory to provide not only a solution but also to show that it could be used to solve very complex molecules, such as proteins.”
Other scientists took notice in the mid-1960s.
With a clearer picture of the structure of biological molecules, drug researchers now have a much better idea of the chemistry going on inside the body and how to formulate drugs to treat illnesses.
“After I found some structures that no one could have dreamt of solving before, it started to get a lot of attention,” Dr. Karle told The New York Times in 2013.
When Jerome Karle and Dr. Hauptman were awarded the Nobel for their work in 1985, Jerome Karle was deeply disappointed that his wife was not also honored. “He wanted to not accept it,” Ms. Hanson said, “and she told him, ‘Go ahead, that’s silly, you should accept it.’”
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Dr. Isabella L. Karle with her husband, Dr. Jerome Karle, in an undated photo. He was deeply disappointed that she did not share in his 1985 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. CreditNaval Research Laboratory
Isabella Helen Lugoski was born in Detroit on Dec. 2, 1921, the daughter of Polish immigrants. Her father, Zygmunt Lugoski, worked for the city’s transportation system. Her mother, the former Elizabeth Graczyk, ran a restaurant — eventually with Isabella’s help.
“My mother realized fairly early that I like numbers,” Dr. Karle recalled in an interview in 2015. “I soon became the accountant, so to speak. Fresh meat was delivered every day, and the butcher left the bill that had to be paid once a week. So once a week I added up all the numbers of the money that was owed him.”
She skipped a couple of grades in elementary school. Later, she learned she would need to take a science class in high school to attend a university. By whim, she said, she chose chemistry, and the teacher, a woman, sparked her passion for the subject. (Her father was initially disappointed. He had hoped she would be a lawyer, as he had wanted to be.)
She attended Wayne University (now Wayne State University) in Detroit for a semester before obtaining a four-year scholarship to the University of Michigan, where she received her bachelor’s, master’s and doctoral degrees, all before she turned 23.
She met her husband while an undergraduate: The spaces in the physical chemistry laboratory were assigned in alphabetical order, so Karle was seated next to Lugoski.
“I walked into the physical chemistry laboratory and there’s a young man in the desk next to mine with his apparatus all set up running his experiment,” Dr. Karle said. “I don’t think I was very polite about it. I asked him how did he get in here early and have everything all set up. He didn’t like that. So we didn’t talk to each other for a while.”
Eventually, they did talk again. They married in 1942.
Both worked in Chicago on the Manhattan Project, the government effort during World War II to develop an atomic bomb. Isabella Karle developed processes to synthesize plutonium chloride out of lumps of impure plutonium oxide.
The Karles moved to the Naval Research Laboratory after the war and stayed there until both retired on the same day in July 2009.
Jerome Karle died in 2013. In addition to her daughter Louise, Dr. Karle is survived by two other daughters, Jean Karle Dean and Madeleine Karle Tawney; four grandchildren; and a great-granddaughter.
Isabella Karle published more than 350 papers. She was a member of the National Academy of Sciences, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and the American Philosophical Society. In 1993, the Franklin Institute presented her with the Bower Award and Prize for Achievement in Science, and in 1995 she received the National Medal of Science from President Bill Clinton in a White House ceremony.
Dr. Rath, who supervised Dr. Karle’s work in Washington, said that her renown within the scientific community was so wide that when scientists from around the world visited the Naval Research Laboratory, they would very often make one request. “They all wanted to see Isabella,” he said.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

A00004 - Shobha Magdolna Friedmann Nehru and Braj Kumar Nehru

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Shobha Nehru, left, with President John F. Kennedy and Indira Gandhi in 1962. Mrs. Nehru’s husband was ambassador to Washington at the time. CreditGeorge Tames/The New York Times
NEW DELHI — Shobha Magdolna Friedmann Nehru, a Hungarian Jew who narrowly escaped the Holocaust, married into India’s leading political family and witnessed religious and ethnic violence convulsing both her native and adopted countries, died on Tuesday at her home in the Himalayan foothills. She was 108.
Her death was confirmed by her son Ashok.
Mrs. Nehru was known by her Hungarian nickname, Fori, but did not often speak about her background. After marrying the Indian diplomat Braj Kumar Nehru in 1935, she took the name Shobha (which was selected by her in-laws), dressed in saris and was so thoroughly assimilated that acquaintances often took her for a pale-skinned Kashmiri Pandit, like the Nehrus themselves.
As a member of the Nehru household, she grieved beside the bodies of Mahatma Gandhi, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, all of whom were assassinated. And at a key moment in the country’s history, she delivered a hard truth to an imperious leader who rarely heard it.
Mrs. Nehru typically stayed away from political matters, but she took the unusual step of confronting Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, her close friend and cousin by marriage, when she believed that the state of emergency Mrs. Gandhi declared in 1975 had too severely rolled back human rights in India.
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She later recalled presenting Mrs. Gandhi with a list of men who said they had been forced to undergo vasectomies during a coercive mass sterilization campaign spearheaded by Mrs. Gandhi’s son, Sanjay. Expecting to encounter resistance from the prime minister, she had asked each man for his telephone number.
“I said, ‘Indu, you know I never talk to you about politics, never, no,’” Mrs. Nehru said in an interview with Indian state television. “‘Please look at this — these are all complaints about sterilization of young boys and old men. You know yourself that there is no need to sterilize. Why?’ She listened, looked at me. ‘But.’ What but?”
Mrs. Nehru’s husband, in his own memoir, reflected that virtually nobody — including himself — was willing to take the risk of alienating Mrs. Gandhi, who resented any criticism of her son. He said his wife was less cautious, and “certainly on more intimate terms with Indira Gandhi than I was.”
“I guess she was like that,” Ashok Nehru said. “She felt she had to get the truth across to her. It was a close family relationship, not a political relationship. She felt free enough to do that.”
Mrs. Nehru was 90 when she asked an Oxford classmate of her son’s, the British historian Martin Gilbert, to suggest some reading material on the history of the Jews. Mr. Gilbert wrote that he was perplexed by the inquiry, having always seen her as “an Indian woman,” until she recounted the story of her childhood in Budapest.
“Auntie Fori wanted to learn the history of the people to whom she belonged, but from whom, 67 years earlier, she had moved away, to the heat and dust and challenges of India,” Mr. Gilbert wrote in “Letters to Auntie Fori: The 5,000-Year History of the Jewish People and Their Faith,” published in 2002.
She was born on Dec. 5, 1908, into a prosperous, assimilated Jewish family that had changed its surname from Friedmann to the less Jewish-sounding Forbath. Her mother’s family, Mr. Gilbert wrote, was one of the few Jewish families licensed, under the Austro-Hungarian empire, to use the aristocratic prefix “von.” She rarely visited a synagogue except to collect her father after services.
“She used to say, ‘Both my sister and I didn’t believe in all this stuff,’” Ashok Nehru recalled. “She said they would stand outside the synagogue, stamping their feet in the cold.”
An anti-Semitic tide was rising in Hungary, and the family was forced by law to revert to the name Friedmann. In 1919, hoping to stave off a Communist revolution, right-wing mobs roamed the streets, killing Jews.
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Fori Nehru and her husband, Braj Kumar Nehru, at their wedding in 1935.
“Once a week my father would travel to the villages to get food,” she told Mr. Gilbert. “He had a house on Lake Balaton. One summer we went there — by train — and I saw people hanging from trees. It was terrible for us children to look at.”
By the time she was 20, strict quotas had been introduced for Jewish students in Hungarian universities, and her parents sent her to the London School of Economics. There she met B. K. Nehru, a member of a distinguished Kashmiri family, whose cousin Jawaharlal was already a leader of the Indian independence movement (and would later become India’s first prime minister).
Her parents were skeptical of the match, Mr. Nehru recalled in his memoir: “How could their beautiful and lovely daughter marry a black man in a distant country of which they know nothing, and who, by his own confession, belonged to a family of jailbirds?”
His parents were skeptical as well. But when the two sets of parents met in Budapest, there was a sudden thaw, Mrs. Nehru told Mr. Gilbert.
“They were sitting in the sitting room,” she said. “I was crying in my bedroom. My future mother-in-law had to go to the loo. She came by my room — saw me crying. She said, ‘We must let them do what they want to do.’”
The Hungarian bride stepped off the ship in a sari and never looked back.
As part of a countrywide tour, she was taken by her future mother-in-law to the prison where Jawaharlal Nehru was being held by the British. Seeing that she was in tears, he later sent her a gently chastening letter, informing her: “Nehrus don’t cry in public. They keep a stiff upper lip.”
Meanwhile, her relatives and friends in Hungary were scattering. Her father was saved by his German housekeeper; her brother, an officer in the Hungarian Army, swam across the Danube to Czechoslovakia; her best friend drove across the border with her son hidden in the trunk of her car.
She was busy with her own crises in India. As partition approached, Delhi was flooded with refugees: Hindus who had been pushed out of Pakistan, Muslims who were boarding trains for Pakistan, mobs pumped with murderous rage on both sides. She learned, after she had helped families crowd onto one such train, that everyone aboard had been dragged off and killed while crossing Punjab.
“Can you imagine the horror?” she told Mr. Gilbert. “For several days we sent no train.”
For the newly arrived refugees, she began an employment campaign, opening a shop to sell the handicrafts of refugee women that grew into a vast network, the Central Cottage Industries Emporium.
She would not return to Hungary until 1949, along with three sons who had never seen her in anything but a sari.
“She used to go out every day, to meet her friends,” her son Ashok, who accompanied her on that trip, recalled. “Many of them had disappeared. Many had been raped by the Russians or killed by the Germans. They were harrowing tales. I remember her coming back crying.”
B. K. Nehru died in 2001. In addition to her son Ashok, Mrs. Nehru is survived by two other sons, Aditya and Anil; four grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren.
As the wife of a high-level dignitary, Mrs. Nehru moved from Washington, to the northeastern state of Assam, to London, but thoughts of Hungary’s Jews never entirely left her. She told Mr. Gilbert that at official receptions, she could not bring herself to shake hands with the German ambassador.
“I have a feeling of guilt,” she said. “I wasn’t there. I was safe. The guilt feeling is still with me. Why should I not have suffered?”