Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
would be exceedingly welcome—also from the higher mountain tops, especially if ac-
companied by statements of conditions of soil, vegetation, and local temperature.”
Of course, all was not science back on campus, and Henry, however shy and low-
key, was part of the male-dominated social scene. There weren't many women around
M.V.Z., and even Miss Alexander and her long-term companion, Louise Kellogg, were
rarely seen; they collected numerous valuable specimens, including bears and other
large mammals, but never accompanied men on field trips. Those few women with am-
bitions faced formidable obstacles, explicit and otherwise, including being mainly re-
garded as romantic prospects. Later in life Henry would applaud their progress in aca-
demia and take pride in his own biologist daughter's accomplishments, but in the 1930s
he was a reserved young man. When he found himself sharing a botany class lab table
with two coeds, they seemed so uncommonly attractive that he had trouble drawing
pinecones. The distractive effects were compounded by their intense dislike for each
other; when they spoke, it was only to him, and then only about plants.
The other M.V.Z. men were variously collaborating, feuding, and outright brawling,
but overall an atmosphere of friendly, spirited camaraderie prevailed. Among the fac-
ulty, E. Raymond Hall, who'd received a Ph.D. with Grinnell and been hired as mammal
curator, entertained graduate students with hilarious, dead-on imitations of senior pro-
fessors and ornithologists of all stripes. Among the students, themselves an eccentric
bunch, Seth “Bennie” Benson was especially prone to commotion and conflict. Bennie's
dissertation was about the ecological significance of hair color in rodents on white sands
and black lava. Once, on a field trip, he'd parked a museum vehicle in a desert arroyo,
only to have a flash flood sweep it away, together with his specimens and field notes.
On a Nevada expedition Bennie repeatedly drove the truck into sand without recon-
noitering his route, which resulted in hours of shoveling instead of collecting, as well as
bitter complaints from his companions about such poor judgment. Years later, after he
returned to the museum as Hall's successor, Bennie's animosity toward a visiting Cana-
dian researcher who'd made a pass at his wife erupted in a loud fist fight, and he was
almost thrown over a rail onto some specimen cases.
Bennie heckled the students too; he was especially critical of their token herpetolo-
gist. On the Nevada expedition, Henry spent hours preparing boards as “swamp skis”
for crossing mud flats to a small island, only to sink into the treacherous slurry when
his invention failed, having to be rescued with a rope. A few days after the embarrass-
ing fiasco, Bennie abruptly asked Fitch to wrestle. Henry was delighted to relieve pent-
up frustrations, and they went at it hard in the dirt, cheered on by the others. Henry
achieved a ferocious headlock and pinned Bennie so fervently Hall, who'd just arrived to
take over leadership of the trip, worried that Fitch would break Bennie's neck or choke
him. The heavier man, however, had undisclosed wrestling experience, thanks to which
a few minutes later he escaped and sat on Henry's chest. To everyone's surprise, the
contest ended with no bad feelings.
Publications are the coin of the realm in science, and Henry's first, a 1933 report
on Oregon birds, was followed by three notes in the American Society of Ichthyologists
papers from the thesis on alligator lizards, of which one analyzed scales and color pat-
terns, the other habits and habitats. Both were packed with details and had straightfor-
ward goals: to set forth the external features and ecology of closely related species, with
