I
moved to the School of Chemical Sciences at the University of Illinois
in 1962 as part of a planned expansion of the academic and technical
staffs in the Biochemistry Department. Several months after I arrived,
I was told that the school had enticed a major senior scientist to move
from Britain to the Illinois cornfields and that my job would be to
provide him with technical support and any new instrumentation he might
need. I was assured that, even though my new job was vaguely
defined, all would work out eventually. A month later the head of
Biochemistry, Dr. I.C. Gunsalus, brought the new scientist, Dr.
Gregorio Weber to the machine shop and introduced me to him.
Dr. Weber struck me as a very pleasant man who would be pleasing to work with.
Shortly
thereafter, Dr. Weber brought down some of his English-built equipment
for me to look at along with his wish list of modifications for this
equipment and also new instruments to be built from scratch. This
was the beginning of my relationship with him which lasted over thirty
years.
I was new to the job and unsure of what I was
doing. I also felt thick headed and unable to readily understand
what Dr. Weber wanted of me. After a close examination of the
English equipment and a few false starts I began to produce small
instruments which were useful. At first Dr. Weber and I were
probably not sure of what we might be able to make. He was used to
building everything from scratch and I was unfamiliar with any possible
commercial suppliers of parts we might use so we made everything.
Gradually, I began to develop an understanding of what he wanted me to
build next. If I needed a push, he did so gently and always made
his wishes known in a polite and low-key manner. If I was busy
with a lathe he would wait until I finished a cut before asking
politely if I had a moment to discuss a problem. We worked together
with little or no formal documentation. Some verbal instructions from
Dr. Weber with possible clarifications became all I needed to get to
work. As we progressed the instruments became larger and more complex.
If he saw that I was becoming apprehensive about working with expensive
or unfamiliar optics his stock answer was "I mean, I mean it does not
appear to be very difficult. I am sure you can do it." He once
asked me to change the grating in a large, expensive monochromator. I'd
never seen the inside of the monochromator let alone worked on it.
At the conclusion, I got his standard response, " I mean.....that wasn't too difficult was it?."
Within the year Dr. Weber had enough instruments and students to make his laboratory hum. It was a heady time.
Our
instruments typically had one or two racks of electronics loaded with
controls and switches (This was well before integrated
electronics). Dr. Weber had the habit of becoming engrossed in
conversation with users and begin to absently turn an adjustment knob
or two - usually the ones most critical to the proper operation of the
machine. We started putting large, shiny hand wheels in
convenient places on the racks. Known as "Weber’s Knob", their
sole function was to occupy the Professors fingers during his
visit. He used them often and with good humour.
Writing
this brought back many fond memories of Dr. Weber and his
students. I cannot speak to his scientific accomplishments but on
a human level he helped me and certainly others achieve more than they
thought possible. My association with him was a high point in my
life.