August 2007 Stories

Fighting the Effects of Global Warming, One Cell at a Time

Biology Professor Gary Tallman has been toiling away in labs for almost 20 years to understand how plants adapt and survive under consistently warm temperatures — a question that could be crucial to the future availability of food. But it’s taken the famous face of a recent vice president to finally bring widespread public attention to the work of Tallman and other scientists like him.

Thanks to Al Gore’s book and documentary “An Inconvenient Truth,” more and more people are concerned about the effects of global climate change. It’s been a long-standing issue for Tallman, who worries about what warming temperatures could do to farmers’ crop yields.

“The population is expected to double by 2050, and we are going to need more food production to support our world,” he says. “We may have to start breeding plants to withstand increased carbon dioxide levels and higher temperatures. Right now, we’re trying to slow emissions, which I think is the best option. But if that doesn’t work, we need a plan B.”

Tallman, who holds the Taul Watanabe Endowed Chair and is director of the Office for Faculty Research and Resources, studies thermotolerance — the way plants adapt to survive in high temperatures. He became interested in the topic while doing his post-doctoral work, when he heard a plant biologist speak at a seminar about how he had cloned a potato from a single cell. “I could see the future of that idea would allow you to manipulate the cells before regenerating them, so you could create characteristics such as disease resistance,” Tallman says.

So he started studying plant cells, or specifically one type: the guard cell. It’s a kidney-shaped cell on leaves that enables plants to take in carbon dioxide and keeps them from losing too much water. It can be easily isolated from leaves so scientists can grow it in test tubes. Tallman has focused on the guard cell of Nicotiana glauca, a weedy tree tobacco native to Argentina that has an easy-to-peel skin, allowing him to quickly remove cells for study.

Over time, Tallman discovered these guard cells can withstand temperatures of up to 100 degrees Fahrenheit and still survive. At lower temperatures, they need two hormones — auxin and cytokinin — to continue growing and dividing. Once the cells heat up, they no longer require the hormones to survive — but they also stop dividing.

“As the cells become thermotolerant, they also become thermoinhibited, meaning they’re not growing,” Tallman says. “Now we’re trying to figure out which steps in the process are preventing them from dividing.”

If he can isolate the answer, then he can move to the next step: providing the cells with new characteristics so they can continue growing even as the air around them heats up.

Tallman has engaged numerous students in his research, many of whom have added their own discoveries. He regularly mentors students through the Science Collaborative Research Program, which allows Willamette undergraduates to research alongside professors.

He has written more than 30 peer-reviewed scientific articles and book chapters on plant physiology and cell biology, and his work has garnered him multiple national research grants — including $252,000 from the National Science Foundation and a $39,000 grant from the M.J. Murdock Charitable Trust.

Tallman hopes his continued work and discoveries will engage future biologists in crucial research to address climate change. Gore is helping a bit with that, too. “More students are becoming interested in this type of research because they see its relevance,” Tallman says.

Willamette’s Department of Biology celebrates its 100th anniversary in September. You are invited to the festivities. For information, go to Centennial Celebration Web site.

Waldo’s Wilderness Legacy

One of Willamette University’s most famous alumni died 100 years ago this September. Although John Waldo, Class of 1863, served in the Oregon Legislature and as chief justice of the Oregon Supreme Court, he is best remembered for his visionary efforts — and success — in protecting the Cascade Mountain range. Waldo left a wilderness legacy that stretches 250 miles, from Mount Hood in the north through Mount Jefferson, Three Sisters and Crater Lake, and on to Sky Lakes and Mountain Lakes in southern Oregon. Many Americans are familiar with John Muir, the founder of the modern wilderness preservation movement and the driving force behind the creation of Yosemite National Park. While Muir worked for wilderness protection in California, Waldo introduced legislation to protect Oregon’s Cascade Mountains and pled his case all the way to the White House.

Growing up in the “Garden of Oregon”
Waldo was born to pioneer parents in 1844, east of Salem in what are now called the Waldo Hills. There were only seven faculty members — including Jason Lee’s daughter Lucy — when he attended “Wallamet University,” and classes were held in the Old Institute, a three-story wooden building with three classrooms. Waldo and other members of the Class of 1863 paid $15 in tuition and pored over Latin, Greek, Plato, Homer and “moral science” in addition to reading, writing and arithmetic. They used Webster’s dictionary as a classroom manual, a rain gauge donated from the Smithsonian Institute, and engravings of the human stomach meant to illustrate the “evils of drunkenness.” When studies got too serious, students rigged a bucket of water over the door to douse an unsuspecting entrant.

Waldo probably picked up the legal trade by apprenticing himself to a lawyer since Willamette’s law school wouldn’t be established for another 20 years. The capitol city of 4,500 would have been an excellent place to obtain a legal education, as it had more than its share of practicing lawyers. Along the way he married Clara Humason, whom he called “the sweetest of the earth.”

The Civil War had just ended, and Oregon’s Willamette Valley was still a remote place at the edge of the continent. Although the river valley was home to 40,000 settlers, 90 percent of the land had not yet seen a plow, and oak savannas and prairies stretched for miles. Reporter Samuel Bowles wrote in 1865, “Oregon is … a revelation. It has rarer natural beauties … than I had dreamed of.” Bowles called the Willamette Valley the “garden of Oregon.”

In spite of Waldo’s reserved nature, the attorney ran a successful campaign for the Oregon Supreme Court in 1880. He was elected chief justice in 1884 and served as a progressive Republican in the 1888 Oregon State Legislature. He was known for his gentleness and his charming conversation — likely the result of voracious reading — and was heavily influenced by Thoreau and Emerson and their vision of wilderness as refuge.

Up into the Mountains
Indeed, the wilderness had become Waldo’s refuge, but in an unintended way. Sickly as a child, Waldo suffered bouts of asthma all his life. Doctors advised the frail patient to go up into the mountains. The cool, clear air, they said, would prove the tonic he needed.

And the wilderness did heal, but in a more profound way. Waldo developed an intense spiritual connection with the Cascades; they became the defining landscape of his life. Although he considered his farmstead “the fairest spot on the globe,” he acknowledged “in the woods I seem at home.”

Each summer, Waldo loaded packhorses with flour, cheese and butter, and disappeared for months. He and four or five companions would follow the crest of the sprawling mountain range, exploring from the Columbia River Gorge to California’s Mount Shasta. They fished the streams, caught antelope, cooked venison, jerked bear meat and gathered huckleberries. They cooked over campfires, slept in tents and listened to the howls of Oregon’s last wolves.

Waldo became intimately familiar with Oregon’s flora and fauna. He visited Crater Lake when it was virtually unknown and saw one of the last grizzly bears that roamed the area.

Protecting “Untrammeled Nature”
While the grizzly bears were moving out, the sheep were moving in. In the 1800s, the Cascades were seen as a place to run sheep and draw off timber, and restrictions were unheard of. Before too long, unlimited grazing had left mountain slopes denuded, riverways trampled and watersheds damaged — prodding the reticent judge to embark on a career as Oregon’s first conservationist. Waldo’s ideas were revolutionary in the late 1800s — and still are. His protectionist vision was not limited to one peak or to a select canyon, but to the entire Cascade range. When he first suggested the outlandish idea to a like-minded friend, the man assumed he was joking.

Waldo introduced state legislation to protect the Cascades, which passed in the House but failed in the Senate, done in by the sheep industry. Waldo then appealed to President Grover Cleveland, asking him to set aside a large remnant of the state as a forest preserve. The proposal seemed doomed. Oregon’s most powerful monied interests sent emissaries to Washington to bend the president’s ear in the opposite direction. Waldo responded with a public awareness campaign, urging Oregonians to protect their communal watersheds and pressing home the importance of “communion with untrammeled nature and the free air,” up where “the spirit is enlarged.” He wrote, “Blessed be the mountains and the free and untenanted wilderness. … The high wild hills about here, totally unfenced and uncultivated, are good for eyes that would not have the world altogether cut up into cabbage patches.”

Letters poured forth from ordinary Oregonians across the state, but the single letter that likely persuaded President Cleveland came from the judge. Waldo’s letter reflected his intellect, his intimate knowledge of the Cascades, and his deeply held convictions; it remains one of the great masterpieces of conservationist literature, an eloquent sermon in defense of wilderness. He argued that spiritual interests should be balanced with material interests, and wrote, “A wise government will know that to raise men is much more important than to raise sheep.”

President Cleveland upheld Waldo’s vision, bequeathing to all Americans the soaring volcanic peaks, pristine lakes and tranquil forests of the Cascade Range Forest Reserve.

The Last Hike
Waldo made his final trip to his beloved Cascades in August 1907. The 63-year-old rode his horse up the familiar trail toward Mount Jefferson and wrote his last journal entry: “Blessed be the mountains and the free and untenanted wilderness. … The high wild hills about here, totally unfenced and uncultivated, are good for eyes that would not have the world altogether cut up into cabbage patches.”

Waldo tried to join some of the younger members of the party on an ascent up Jefferson but faltered on a high ridge and turned back. The following day, his asthmatic lungs failing, he was evacuated by stretcher from his lakeside camp and met his dear Clara in the small mountain town of Detroit. He died 12 days later.

Salem’s Capitol Journal ran its headline in large block letters: Death Claims a Noble Man. “He grew up in touch with nature … a man such as nature’s teaching molds. To him the mountains with their purpling canyons and glittering snow peaks were a book to which there was no end.“

The name of this Willamette alumnus is imprinted across the landscape, including his namesake, Waldo Lake, which forms the headwaters of the Willamette River. Deep and almost perfectly clear, it is one of the purest bodies of water in the world.

The Cascade Range Forest Reserve, Waldo’s legacy, has evolved into 19 federally protected wilderness areas, and like Waldo, Oregonians have come to define themselves by the sweeping mountain range that forms the backbone of their landscape.

Information for this story was taken from Judge John B. Waldo: Oregon’s John Muir, written by Oregon naturalist Bobbie Snead. Photos courtesy of Richard Yates and Salem Public Library Historic Photographs.

A Lifelong Stroke of Luck

Jan Taborsky’s great-grandfather wanted to be a businessman, but communist Czechoslovakia didn’t see eye to eye with capitalists. His upholstery business landed him in prison.

Taborsky ’10 had a better go of it. The economics major recently landed one of the most sought-after business scholarships in America, funded by the Kemper Scholarship Program. Instead of a prison sentence, he will receive financial support, paid internships and ongoing mentoring as he begins his career.

Born two years before the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, Taborsky grew up in the Czech Republic, a country of medieval villages, hillside castles and pulsing cities. “We weren’t rich or anything, but my family life was a perfect life,” says Taborsky.

His path was shaped by a succession of coincidences and mentors. His father’s boss — connected to Rotary International — asked if the teenager might like to go to America. “I had always wanted to go to there,” Taborsky says. “I read about it as a place of abundance and freedom, like a dream place.” After settling in at Oregon’s Sprague High School, he found that Americans and Czechs are surprisingly alike in outlook and humor.

Through Rotary, the high schooler met Willamette Dean Bob Hawkinson, who helped open doors at Willamette. College seemed unaffordable, but Taborsky landed several scholarships and was taken in by a sponsor family, Randy Cook JD ’88 and Tracy Gregg, both lawyers and Rotarians.

“I can’t imagine a better match than this school,” Taborsky says. “I like the small environment and feel like there are a lot of smart students. The teachers are open and friendly; I feel like I’m learning from the best.”

He hopes to use his education toward a career negotiating an exchange of goods and ideas between his country and the U.S. “The Czech Republic is on its way to economic modernization, but many things are still being done in old-fashioned and non-progressive ways,” he says.

Taborsky also has a dream of owning an outdoor sports business some day, and when he wasn’t in the classroom or working at the Institutional Research Office this year, he was scaling mountain peaks, rock climbing, snowboarding and running. He joined Willamette’s Outdoor Club, played intramural soccer, and helped found Willamette’s first Bicycle Club, whose members rode the hilly countryside after classes and raced on weekends. “Sports is the balancing element in my life,” Taborsky says. “Sports activities help me to overcome my special life challenge — diabetes.”

Taborsky also finds time to volunteer, finding resonance in Willamette’s motto, Not unto ourselves alone are we born. He has given presentations about the Czech Republic to elementary, middle and high schools; rung the Christmas bell for Salvation Army; written for Willamette’s World News magazine; and cleared brush along hiking trails in the Coast range. “We are not living our lives alone in this world. Even young people like myself have an amazing power to affect the communities we live in.”

Taborsky feels lucky. He is all too aware of how his family, host family, education and scholarships have “changed the line of my life” and opened possibilities. “I realize the responsibilities that come with these opportunities,” he says. “I’m ready to give back.”

For information on this scholarship and others, contact Monique Bourque in the Student Academic Grants and Awards office on the second floor of the University Center.

Thinking Small

Usually when people think of global warming they think of the big picture — erratic weather, melting glaciers and rising sea levels. Jennifer Bufford ’08 thinks small. Really small.

The biology senior concentrates on plant cells at the biochemical level and how they’ll be affected as temperatures rise. In science-speak, she looks at the effect of nitric oxide on the development of thermotolerance and/or thermoinhibition.

“These processes are important when it comes to global warming,” Bufford says. “High temperatures tend to inhibit plant cell growth and division, which might reduce crop yields and intensify world hunger. The ultimate goal is to find ways to protect plant species from the effects of global warming, to keep crop yields steady despite rising temperatures.”

Her research has garnered the attention of the Goldwater Scholarship Program, which recognizes science students of exceptional promise — and picks up part of the tab for their education. The scholarship will allow her to push forward with her research at Willamette.

“I really appreciate the chance to do research at a small university like Willamette, where the opportunities for self-directed research are excellent,” Bufford says. “My undergraduate friends at larger universities are doing routine lab work rather than designing and conducting their own research.” Biology Professor Gary Tallman, who directs the Willamette Office of Faculty Research, has mentored Bufford, helping her frame the parameters of her research.

She got an early start in science. Her biologist mom introduced her to plants and animals at a young age, her dad worked in computer science, and scientists seem to sprout on the family tree. “I guess you could say that science is in my blood,” she says.

Her extracurricular activities reinforce her academic pursuits. She joined the Bio Undergraduates Club and volunteered with the student Outdoor Pursuits club, teaching after-school science lessons to local elementary school kids. Weekend trips include skiing in the Cascades, bird watching at local refuges, and canoeing in Oregon’s rivers.

The Pacific Northwest native is studying abroad this year, having swapped the clean, green city of Salem for the clean, green city of Sydney, Australia. Her extracurricular activities there include volunteering at a marine ecology lab. She reports that grades in Australia are replaced by “marks,” autumn comes during our springtime, and students really do say “G’day, mate.” She eats fresh guava and star fruit, has met her fair share of kangaroos and kookaburras, and once fought off a poisonous spider in her room. It turned out alright, or as her Aussie friends would say, “No worries!”

As for the future, Bufford wants to take her cell research to the next step; she wants to become a full-fledged biology professor. Sometimes you have to think small to dream big.

Willamette’s Department of Biology celebrates its 100th anniversary in September. You are invited to the festivities. For information go to Centennial Celebration Web site.

For information on this scholarship and others, contact Monique Bourque in the Student Academic Grants and Awards office on the second floor of the University Center.

Taking the Leap

There’s a jump-off edge along the top of the Continental Divide. Face east, and you’re looking down rock cliffs and away toward the Atlantic. Turn the other direction, and you’re looking through thin air toward the Pacific.

Music Professor Mike Nord is following that ridge this August, walking 200 miles across Montana with his sleeping bag and tent. He and fellow Music Professor Dan Rouslin put on their backpacks each summer and go to the edges, drinking in soaring landscapes.

And then Nord brings the edges back into his music studio and onto stages across the world, where he leaps again and again as an improvisation artist. When his quartet Carr Nord Hofmann Maddox walks onto the stage in front of an expectant audience, they have their instruments — guitar, violin, electronics, percussion and piano — but no scores and no pre-arranged direction. “We can do whatever we want, when we want,” Nord says. “We don’t obey any rules other than intensely listening to each other and working together as an ensemble.”

They focus on the musical moment, tuning out the rows of faces, becoming hyperconscious of the sound conversation they’re creating. They can’t afford not to catch the thread of an emerging melody or rhythm. Their free-form music requires the ability to think on their feet, to allow music to unfold into moods and layers and textures, to go with the flow, whether it leads to abstract ambient noise or a jazz/world beat groove. Downbeat magazine says of the group, “Outcomes are driven by the inspirations and impulses of the participants ... their performances transcend established idioms of jazz, folk or classical music.” It’s a form of sound painting, Nord says.

For Nord, there is ecstasy in the freedom. But like the maneuver along sky-high mountain ridges, there is also a sense of danger. “Sometimes you panic. When we’ve built an idea to the point where it starts to sag, you fight to hang on, to keep the moment going. And then the music calms and unfolds in a new direction and you feel a strength and a force. You get into a zone where you hear emotional colors and soundscapes, and the scenes connect to tell a story.”

Part of Nord’s ease with experimental performance and eclectic music comes from his years as a New York City musician, playing any gig that paid the rent. “I played in every kind of band you can think of — rock, punk, blues, art rock, jazz, avant-garde, classical, Celtic, bluegrass. If the gig called for cha-cha, you played cha-cha. You had to fake it, as they say in the business, or you didn’t eat.”

Unlike his gigs as a journeyman musician, Nord’s music making at Willamette isn’t constrained by commercial concerns. “An academic setting gives one the freedom to pursue an artistic vision without boundaries,” he says.

Since his arrival in 2000, Nord has established the Willamette Music Technology Lab, and more recently he and Computer Science Professor Jenny Orr helped write a successful $500,000 W. M. Keck Foundation grant to initiate an arts and technology minor. Students collaborate across disciplines to combine digital music and computer animation. In other words, computers in the sciences talk to computers in the arts, integrating aesthetics with technology.

In an office crowded with guitars, synthesizers and a dirt-splattered mountain bike, Nord continues to compose, running voice and flute and whatever else through his synthesizer — sound painting, layering and looping. “I’m my own little orchestra,” he laughs. And he continues to perform. Carr Nord Hofmann Maddox has appeared live and on broadcasts in Europe, the United States, Japan and Mexico. They’ve recorded four CDs, including the highly praised Biosphere. They also cross artistic boundaries, like when they performed at Willamette in July with three improvisational dancers from Japan. The collaboration — Nora Ka Soru Ka at Willamette, or “Take the Leap” in Japanese — emerged from a live jam session in a Tokyo theatre while the group was on tour last year.

And Nord continues to seek out the mountain peaks where he finds spiritual grounding. On August 1, he and Rouslin laced up their boots and began their annual wilderness trek. Long-distance backpacking is Nord’s true and absolute passion — one that feeds into his other passion. “There’s an awakening, an enlightenment that happens out there,” he says of the high country. “It’s the kind of thing I hope to bring to my music.”