As a child, I worried every summer that I or my family might be stricken with polio. Every time we went to the movies, I cringed when the newsreel came on, showing children in iron lungs or those struggling to walk with metal braces. My hometown of Kingsport, Tennessee, was selected as a site for the National Foundation’s trial of the Salk vaccine. On April 28, 1954, I stood in line with my second-grade class to receive the polio vaccine and a red lollipop. My mother saved my Polio Pioneer button, never suspecting I might write about the man we considered our hero—Jonas Salk.
My love for biography began at Andrew Johnson Elementary School, where I anticipated reading about the next great figure in the Bobbs-Merrill biography series, among the most popular books in our library. I never found one on Jonas Salk, however. My first serious writing endeavor started partway through my medical career when I was fortunate to study with Ehud Havazelet, an outstanding mentor, winner of the Pushcart Prize and the Whiting Writer’s Award. After a decade of weekly seminars, I can still hear him whisper in my ear if I become sloppy or try a shortcut. My biography writing was facilitated in large part by an endowed professorship from Drs. Ben and A. Jess Shenson, who bestowed upon me the gift of academic freedom. I am grateful for residencies at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Ragdale Foundation, MacDowell Colony, and the Djerassi Resident Artists Program, each of which provided a retreat from the workaday world and a creative atmosphere in which to write. While at the Djerassi Program, I was surprised to be awarded the Patricia E. Bashaw and Eugene Segre Fellowship in support of my writing.
As opposed to medicine, where I have many colleagues and receive instant gratification from patients, writing is a lonely endeavor. Fortunately, I learned of Biographer’s International, founded by James McGrath Morris to promote the art and craft of biography. With its monthly newsletter, “The Biographer’s Craft,” and a yearly conference, I came to know fellow biographers who shared their wisdom. Nigel Hamilton and Debbie Applegate, along with Jamie, stand out for their tireless efforts to help other writers.
Every biographer knows that there is no one as invaluable as the archivist, for whom the appellation “unsung hero” couldn’t be more apt. Having spent years reading through the Jonas Salk Papers at the University of California, San Diego, I gained respect and regard for Lynda Claassen, director of Special Collections and Archives. I appreciate beyond measure the professional help and constant encouragement she and her staff provided. At the March of Dimes Foundation, archivist David Rose—part historian, part sleuth—helped me utilize the enormous amount of archival information, provided me with marvelous videos and photos, and helped me understand the important relationship between Jonas Salk and Basil O’Connor. His ready access with answers to every inquiry, peppered with wit, made working with him a joy.
As I began my research on Salk, I was thankful to those who provided background and insights through their published works: David Oshinsky with his Pulitzer Prize–winning history, Polio: An American Story; Richard Carter, who recounted conversations with Salk in Breakthrough: The Saga of Jonas Salk; Jane Smith, who introduced me to the polio vaccine saga in Patenting the Sun; Suzanne Bourgeois’s Genesis of the Salk Institute: The Epic of Its Founders; and Jon Cohen’s remarkable account of the early attempts to make an AIDS vaccine, Shots in the Dark: The Wayward Search for an AIDS Vaccine. David Roll’s The Hopkins Touch served as a beacon in my last months of writing. How blessed we both are to share the same editor, Timothy Bent.
My thanks go to all those who were gracious enough to spend time talking about their experiences with Salk and his endeavors. They are listed individually in the bibliography. I am particularly grateful to Peter and Jonathan Salk. They spent hours talking with me and never seemed to tire of my incessant emails and questions. In their honesty and equanimity, I could see the best parts of their father shine through. I appreciate how difficult it must be for children to read the life story of a parent, finding out pieces of his or her life they never knew, reading about incidents they remembered or would have interpreted differently. To Jonathan and Peter, I give my sincerest thanks.
As a first-time biographer, I felt overjoyed to be represented by the inveterate Robert Lescher, who with great attentiveness shepherded my first biography, Henry Kaplan and the Story of Hodgkin’s Disease, to publication. The literary world lost a great man when he died on November 28, 2012. Feeling a bit afloat, I contacted friend and colleague Abraham Verghese. Always ready to help, he put me in touch with his agent, Mary Evans, who recommended Rachel Vogel. With amazing enthusiasm and skill, Rachel placed Salk’s biography with Oxford University Press in what I consider record time. She has gone way beyond what I anticipated from a literary agent. I will be forever grateful for her dedication, wisdom, and guidance.
When I first talked with Timothy Bent at Oxford University Press, I had to keep pinching myself to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. How privileged, how delighted I feel to be working with such an experienced, talented editor. His astute insights and thoughtful edits enhanced my biography substantially. Assistant editor Keely Latcham provided sound advice, readily answering my question of the day. I count myself incredibly fortunate to have senior production editor Joellyn Ausanka bring my biography down the final stretch with such expertise. I admire the work she did with The Hopkins Touch and Polio: An American Story. “Brilliant” best describes Ben Sadock, the copy editor for Salk’s biography. He is a true Renaissance man, and I am indebted to him for his detailed editing.
I could never have written the Salk biography without the love and support of my family and friends. My late father, George, and my mother, Lucille DeCroes Wilson, instilled in me curiosity about the lives of others. My sons, Ben and Adam, stepsons Graham, Chris, and Scott, and daughters-in-law Shahla, Anne, Liz, and Maggie have been infinitely patient with “the book.” My thanks to surgeon Sherry Wren, who provided thoughtful suggestions, and to Fred Dotzler, a Salk Institute trustee, for his assistance and encouragement. My gratitude and love goes to my wonderful girlfriends Linda Ara, Lucy Berman, and Ellen King, who have sustained me through the journey with their friendship, gift packages, and good humor. I am grateful to Ellen for her eleventh-hour rescue.
Ten years ago, Jonas Salk moved into our home, and he has not yet left. Not once has my incredible husband, Rod Young, threatened to evict him. My selfless companion, home editor, and dear heart, Rod has supported my efforts with enormous respect, sage advice, and above all patience. Dedication of this book to him represents a tiny fraction of what he has given me.