It is said that books are acts of passion, logic, reason, and art. They are also works of faith—by those who support, tutor, guide, mentor, and succor the writer. This book greatly benefited from the abiding faith of three individuals. The first is Caleb “Tuck” Finch, professor of gerontology and biological science at the University of Southern California. There, I have been lucky enough to attend his classes, lectures, and discussions. Equally important outside of USC were the many conversations, e-mails, lunches, and dinners during which Tuck freely gave me his counsel and advice on a mind-boggling array of scientific issues regarding the biology of aging. I can’t thank him enough. The second Virgil in this journey is my editor at Harmony Books, the ever-calm John Glusman, who deftly pointed out the most important signposts, and who gave me the resources and time to complete the trip. In the tumult of modern publishing, he’s a port in the storm. The third believer was Richard Abate, my agent, who pushed me to stretch and always had time for my questions, both practical and, sometimes more important, transcendental. He also understands pizza.
A number of scholars were good enough to take time from their demanding schedules to educate me on their specialties. Chief among them was the biologist Steven Austad at the Barshop Institute for Longevity and Aging Studies at the University of Texas Health Science Center in San Antonio. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t know a naked mole rat from a cotton top tamarin. His fellows at Barshop also came through—James Nelson, Arlan Richardson, Suzette Tardif, Randy Strong, and Rochelle Buffenstein among them. At UCLA, I am indebted to Professor Rita Effros, the trailblazing pioneer in studies of immune system aging; to the cellular pathology expertise of Professor Harry Vinters; to the wisdom of medical school dean Gerald Levey and vice chancellor Barbara Levey; to the learned counsel in Cornariana of Massimo Ciavolella; to the encouragement and example of former chancellor Albert Carnesale; and, as always, to the librarians at the Louise Darling Biomedical Library. Fran Kaufman and Robert Binstock both provided encouragement and insight. For my understanding of laboratory animals I am indebted to Joyce Peterson and the Jackson Laboratories, and to the American Association of Laboratory Animal Scientists. Professor Andrzej Bartke, at the University of Illinois, tutored me in the fundamentals of human growth hormone and IGF-1. I still can’t afford the stuff.
Several editors also helped. Among them: Sue Horton and Nick Goldberg at the LA Times, who let me write about Alzheimer’s, aging, and Alvise Cornaro; Hank Campbell, who edited my zoology blog at Scientificblogging.com; and Gill Hemburrow at the Times of London, who edited my profile of Aubrey de Grey. Roger Hodge at Harper’s let me write about lab animals. Michael Balter, a veteran writer at Science, acted as a valuable editorial sounding board and occasional gustatory companion, as did Steve Oney. Anne Berry at Harmony Books contributed mightily to the visual composition of the book.
Among those who have taken up the popular battle against aging, few were more helpful that Aubrey de Grey, PhD, of Cambridge, England. Members of the Caloric Restriction Society—most courageously Michael Rae and April Smith—granted me access to their meetings and their private lives as well. Thank you. I still think you need more pizza. The physician and antiaging advocate Ron Rothenberg agreed to treat me (no discount!) and to consent to a patient-journalist’s critical scowl. Doctors Thierry Hertoghe and Jonathan Wright also tolerated my scrutiny. L. Stephen Coles, the founder of the Supercentenarian Research Project, provided a number of invaluable case studies, including much on the topic of George Johnson, who died during the research of this book at age 112. Lisa Walford was an invaluable source of insight about both caloric restriction and about her father, the late Roy Walford. My mother, Betty Critser, and my stepfather, Jerry Newman, were key wellsprings of this book. They keep looking better—and it’s not caloric restriction!
One more thing: writers hog psychic space, and those who yield that space are the true, albeit hidden, benefactors of any work. My wife, Antoinette Mongelli, is this work’s spiritual benefactor, and to her there is no acknowledgment big or lasting enough. Thanks. I love you.