It may be cliché, but it is nonetheless true that a book is much more than the singular effort of its author. In the case of this book, I can confirm this—I could not have completed this work without the nurturing, encouragement, patience, and assistance of many good friends, colleagues, and family members.
I feel like I began this project in a different lifetime. Indeed, it was a long time ago that the inspiration for this book began at the City University of New York Graduate Center in a class on the history of public health with David Rosner and Gerald Markowitz. David has played a unique role in my intellectual life. He guided me through too many years of graduate school, all the while remaining a patient and dedicated mentor who encouraged me every step of the way. From David I learned that not simply does history matter, but that matters of history can be the basis for living an intensely political, satisfying, and moral life.
One of David’s most important contributions to my career was introducing me to Rob DeSalle at the American Museum of Natural History, and Rob and I have been close friends and collaborators ever since. Rob invited me to join his molecular laboratory as a student (in conjunction first with my studies at CUNY and later at Columbia), and we made a deal; I would bring to him history of science, medicine, and public health texts that we would read together and he would teach me genetics. From that beginning, Rob and I would go on to write two books together, with a third on the way, and my years in his lab helped me develop into the scholar I am today.
So much of the conceptual framework of this book was developed in conversation with friends both inside and outside academia. Kelvin Sealey not only read the entire text and offered his careful edits but he also provided both intellectual and emotional support during this long process. Kelvin and I started as graduate students together at the Graduate Center, CUNY, and together migrated to separate departments at Columbia. Over the course of that time we have supported one another in both friendship and intellectual pursuits.
James Colgrove, with whom I began my studies at Columbia and who is now a colleague and collaborator, read and discussed parts of the book and deserves special thanks. Joanna Radin, who is herself emerging as one of the most thoughtful historians of science, now at Yale, read the entire manuscript and helped me think through some of the challenges inherent to this topic. Her detailed comments made this a richer book.
Others, including Avi Patt, Bette Begleiter, Paul Messing, Bill Shein, Elizabeth Robilotti, Neil Schwartz, Cindy Lobel, Terrence Kissack, Tracy Morgan, Ariel De, Howard Rosenbaum, Michael Russello, Rick Baker, James Bonacum, Jorge Brito, Stuart Zicherman, Greg Moss, the late Myra Frazier, Jonathan Mannina, Sandy Kandel, and Seth Krevat, have, at various times, been forced to discuss or read the material herein and deserve my gratitude.
Many of the ideas and impulses in this book can be traced back to Colin Palmer, who as an early mentor pushed me to consider not just the idea of race in science but also the relationship of that idea to both the lives of African Americans and to African American history. While I am not satisfied that this project does enough on both counts, this is a better book because of him.
Others still were incredibly generous with their time and advice on the manuscript, including Keith Wailoo, Richard Lewontin, Susan Reverby, Ruth Schwartz Cowan, Merlin Chowkwanyun, Arthur Caplan, Janet Golden, Richard Sharp, and David Barnes. Additionally, Amy Fairchild, Gerald Markowitz and Elizabeth Blackmar read the entire manuscript and made extensive comments in its dissertation stage. Finally, very special thanks to Dr. J. Craig Venter for taking time to write the foreword to this book and for his work challenging scientists to reconsider their use of race as a variable in research.
To the many librarians and archivists who helped me along the way I cannot say enough thank-yous. Rob Cox, formerly the chief librarian at the American Philosophical Society and currently the head of the Special Collections and University Archives at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, was my guide to the collections at both repositories. Rob’s keen insight into the history of genetics and eugenics was invaluable. A Library Resident Research Fellowship from the American Philosophical Society during the summer of 2004 provided me with the resources to complete most of the primary source research for this project. At the society Valerie-Ann Lutz, Joseph-James Ahern, Roy Goodman, Charles Greifenstein, and the entire staff provided invaluable assistance to me and my work. The librarians at the American Museum of Natural History library and archives offered their careful assistance to this project. Finally, Leonard Bruno, science manuscript historian at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., helped me navigate the as yet unprocessed E. O. Wilson papers, and the staff at the Stanford University Archives helped me navigate the then unprocessed Stephen Jay Gould papers.
My colleagues at the Drexel University School of Public Health have been supportive as I have worked to complete this book. My former dean, Marla Gold, my former and current department chairs Lisa Ulmer and Ann Klassen helped me carve out time in a busy schedule of teaching and other research responsibilities to complete the manuscript. I also owe special thanks to the now nine years of students who have heard me lecture on this subject and whose thoughtful reactions to this material forced me to think more carefully about it. Aaron Pankiewicz, Geoffrey Vargish, Jamie Earnest, Nicole Gidaya, Deb Langer, John Donovan, and Lilliam Ambroggio were especially helpful. Extra special thanks to Phoebe Jones, whose editing skills and insight were invaluable as I completed the book. Finally, thanks to several current and former colleagues who read and talked about sections of the book: John Rich, John Rossi, Craig Newschaffer, Lisa Bowleg, Randall Sell, Augusta Villanueva, Marcus Kolb, and Hernando Perez.
I am grateful to have worked with Patrick Fitzgerald and his team at Columbia University Press, including Kathryn Schell, Bridget Flannery-McCoy, Leslie Kriesel, and Mike Ashby. Patrick was a wonderful editor, working closely with me every step of the way, and I am thankful for all that he did as he pushed me and guided me to make this a better book.
My mother and late father, Jane and Allen Yudell, instilled in me the progressive values that are at the core of my professional goals, and they deserve my deepest gratitude and love. My sister, Andrea Yudell-Nandi, has always been a loving friend in our journey through life. And my in-laws, Alan Rick and Debra Sacks, who came into my life in the middle of this long project, have offered only their deepest support.
My wife, Jacqueline Rick, whom I met on the downtown 1 train in New York City while we were both doctoral students at Columbia, is the center of my life, and this work was driven as much by her interest in my ideas as it was by her insistence that I finish the damn thing. Thank-you is not enough for her. Only my dedication to her as a husband and father of our daughters can begin to account for all that she has given me.
This book is dedicated to my mentor and friend, the late Gerald Gill. It was Gerald who inspired me (and several generations of undergraduates at Tufts University) to dive headfirst into the past in his seminars on the civil rights movement, the history of the American South, and African American history. Gerald was inspirational in the way he embraced the past. He did so with rigorous scholarly resolve and basic human decency with the hope of carving out a better future. This, along with his wry sense of humor and party trick–like encyclopedic recall, earned him the love and respect of his students, colleagues, and friends. For me, I saw the way Gerald lived his life as a scholar and teacher, and I wanted to be like him. I hope this book is another step in that direction.