I. CAMPING AND COLLECTING
IN 1885 A Young Teacher, William Emerson Ritter, left his native Wisconsin and journeyed to California, largely because of a textbook on geology. He was in pursuit not of minerals, however, but of ideas, for Joseph Le Conte, the textbook's author, was then Professor of Natural Sciences at the small and struggling University of California, where the young man hoped to continue his studies. Later events proved that no distance was too great for Ritter to travel once his active mind had fastened on an idea, or set of ideas, in which he found meaning. It is fortunate for the world of science, and in particular for the realm of oceanic investigation, that the ideas which attracted him most strongly were those of biology, which was for him, in its broadest sense, the “science of life.”
The story of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, in its early years, is so closely the story of W. E. Ritter's pursuit of an idea that it is impossible to separate the two. This is not to say that he alone was responsible for establishing what is now the world's largest oceanographic institution; without the considerable support and guidance of others he could never have gone so far. But even those most closely associated with him in the venture took small credit for themselves. Some years later Dr. Fred Baker, who had been one of the three or four people most vitally involved in the institution's founding, said of Ritter and his role:
I believe . . . that few institutions of this character have grown up which more fully express the ideas and ideals of one man than does this one. Rarely assertive, always happily good-natured, ready at all times to listen to others and to defer to their judgment, nevertheless, he was the dominating force which drove us all to the goal which he had set.[1]
What was the goal which inspired Ritter and around which he rallied support? In words it seems so clear and simple as to be almost attainable—a biological survey of that part of the Pacific Ocean adjacent to the coast of California, prosecuted as systematically, as continuously, as protractedly and as broadly as facilities would permit. Later, investigations of the physical properties of the ocean became part of the survey and broadened the base of the already infinite undertaking. It was an overwhelming task even to begin, but Ritter did begin, as early as 1892, when he and a small group of students set up a tent laboratory for the summer at Pacific Grove. By this time he had been appointed head of the University of California's newly-formed Department of Zoology.
When he arrived in California in 1885, Ritter spent the first year teaching in Fresno in order to earn his tuition, then entered the university at Berkeley in 1886, where he continued to tutor high school students part-time to support himself. The thirty-year-old Ritter was a serious student, and obtained his B.S. degree within two years. His graduating class in 1888 consisted of eighty-one men and three women students; the entire student body of the twenty-year-old institution numbered only about seven hundred. For a year Ritter stayed on to do graduate work, then in 1889 was awarded a scholarship at Harvard University, where he spent the next two years. When he returned to Berkeley in 1891 it was to accept the chairmanship of the new Zoology department and to marry Mary Bennett, a young medical doctor he had met that first year at Fresno. Unknowingly taking a step which was to influence the future course of their lives, the couple took a honeymoon trip to San Diego.
As the subject of his PhD thesis at Harvard, Ritter had chosen the retrograde eyes of the Blind Goby, a rare fish species which could be found under the rocks below Point Loma at the entrance to San Diego Bay.[2] Combining work with pleasure Ritter and his bride spent at least one day collecting specimens, and the young scientist was thus introduced to the wealth of material for biological study which the area offered. Another significant feature of this honeymoon trip was that Ritter became acquainted, through his wife, with Doctors Fred and Charlotte Baker, who lived in Roseville on Point Loma. Thus began an association which, more than ten years later, would take on such importance in the establishment of a base for Ritter's studies of marine life.
Meantime, during the decade following his appointment to the university, Ritter and other members of the Department of Zoology explored the Pacific coastline in search of a likely spot for a seaside laboratory. “Imperfectly as had any of the fields of zoology in Western America been cultivated,” wrote Ritter, looking back some twenty years later, “the least studied of all had been the teeming life of the great ocean on whose margin the University is located. This consideration was of itself a strong incentive to marine investigations.”[3]
At the outset there was little to distinguish the University of California's seaside laboratory from those maintained by other institutions, except, perhaps, that it was more migratory and less well-equipped than others. But the nature of the biological studies, and the methods employed in carrying them out, followed the pattern established at such laboratories as that at Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and the Stazione Zoologica on the Bay of Naples.[4] In these and similar institutions scattered throughout the world in those days individual scientists spent a portion of their time, most frequently the summer, pursuing their own biological studies on specimens of marine life. These laboratories had no particular program as institutions; they merely provided a convenient location, working space and equipment for those scientists who wished to make use of their facilities.
As none of the established biological stations was within reach of Ritter and his students, and as the great Pacific Ocean lying virtually untouched at their doorstep offered a unique challenge, in 1892 the Department of Zoology appropriated $200 for summer investigations of ocean life. With this sum a commodious canvas tent, planned as a portable laboratory which could be set up wherever the biologists might settle during the next few years, was purchased and first erected at Pacific Grove on the Monterey Peninsula. San Francisco Bay, despite its proximity to Berkeley, had been rejected as a site because, being virtually landlocked, it did not offer truly oceanic conditions, and the two large rivers emptying their sediments into it contributed to the absence of sea life. Also in 1892, the Timothy Hopkins laboratory of Stanford University was established at Pacific Grove. The Stanford facilities, which remained permanently at Pacific Grove, were larger and in general much more impressive than the flimsy University of California structure of canvas and wood. But
The next year the Berkeley graduate and undergraduate students, again under Ritter's direction, folded their tent and moved south to set up camp at Avalon Bay on Santa Catalina Island, west of Los Angeles. The beautiful setting and balmy climate afforded much after-hours diversion for the group, who stored their tent-laboratory in a church basement in hopes of returning the next year to pursue their profitable and enjoyable studies. The summer of 1894, however, found the Ritters in Europe at the start of their sabbatical leave, and no official university investigations were carried on that year. Unofficially, however, three of the students who had been at Avalon the previous summer explored the coast to the north as far as Eureka. In 1895, while the Ritters were still in Europe, a party of six set up a laboratory at San Pedro, the harbor for the Los Angeles area and a place which had attracted the biologists on their trip to Catalina. This summer's work strengthened the belief that Southern California afforded especially favorable conditions for marine investigations.
Between 1896 and 1901, although there were no organized parties nor a seaside laboratory, various members of the zoology department made numerous collecting excursions and brought back reports on possible locations for a permanent laboratory as well as specimens of marine life. In 1899 Ritter, as a member of the Harriman Expedition to Alaska, was able to explore Puget Sound and much of the coastline further north.
Railroad magnate E. H. Harriman, ordered by his doctors to take a complete rest, had chartered a steamer, refitted it for the needs of his family and guests, including his doctor and pastor, and planned a trip to Alaska, beyond the reach of telegraph wires. To make the trip count for more than pleasure, Harriman invited forty scientists, artists and writers to go along as his guests. It had been decided to include a representative of every profession and branch of science which might benefit from the trip, and Ritter had been selected as an expert on marine invertebrates.
A large amount of valuable material was collected on the expedition, and the results were published in the next few years at Harriman's expense. During the day the boat was virtually turned over to the scientists; Ritter described the hurricane deck as “strewn fore
By 1900 members of the University of California's zoology department had thus explored the shores of the Pacific, with varying degrees of thoroughness, from the Mexican border to Alaska. Gradually they had come to the conclusion that the bay at San Pedro was the most favorable location of any in which they had carried on investigations for further marine biological activity. Late in that first year of the century Ritter launched a determined effort to create a permanent, well-supported seaside station, presumably to be located at San Pedro. On December 12, he outlined his proposal in a letter to Benjamin Ide Wheeler, president of the university, who approved the plan and agreed to communicate with certain Los Angeles alumni. Initially he would not commit the university to any financial support. “Our friends in Southern California ought to raise $2500 for you at least,” he wrote.[6]
Fortunately a few Los Angeles friends of the university did become interested, and about $1800 was raised for the summer's work. When it became obvious in the spring that the private subscriptions would not meet the expenses of the projected summer session, the university added to the fund. Unlike previous summers, formal classes in zoology were offered in both 1901 and 1902, not only because the investigations offered a natural opportunity for instruction, but because it was hoped that the fees ($10 tuition, $5 laboratory fee) would help cover the costs of the instructors' travel to and from
The summer of 1901 was indeed the beginning of something, for although Ritter, his associates and students had set up a seaside laboratory before, there had not been much organization in their efforts. They now felt, with confidence in their choice of location and familiarity with the methods and equipment to be used, that they were ready to begin a continuing study of the life of the Pacific Ocean and the physical conditions surrounding that life. “In view of the importance of the field, and the meagreness of previous investigations in it,” Ritter wrote to President Wheeler, “it seemed best to plan the summer's work as though it were the beginning of a detailed biological survey of the coast of California, even though no assurance could be had of being able to continue the work beyond this season.”[8]
In view of the vastness of the undertaking some boundaries had to be set. It was decided in 1901 to limit operations on the biological side to dredging and trawling in depths not to exceed one hundred fathoms, while on the hydrographic side no more than temperature and density determinations were attempted. This work required a boat, and an open gasoline launch, the Elsie, was rented and kept busy during the two months of the session. For laboratory work on land, and for classes, a “little old bath-house” and a neighboring building on the sand pit separating San Pedro Bay from the open sea were rented and reconstructed.
Ritter was particularly fortunate, as he began the intensive survey which had been taking shape in his mind, in having as associates in the Department of Zoology men who were thoroughly sympathetic with his views. Two of these, Frank Bancroft and Harry B. Torrey, were his own former students, who on reaching “scientific maturity,” had joined the staff of their alma mater. The other member of the dedicated foursome was Charles A. Kofoid, who had come to California in 1900 from the University of Illinois. The young biological venture may have been poor in financial assets, but it possessed a wealth of scientific talent.
Kofoid, experienced in marine and aquatic biology, took charge of the work at sea. Eighty-five stations were occupied by the forty-foot launch, chiefly off San Pedro and around Catalina Island. Ritter, remembering his own observations of ten years before and desiring to follow up other favorable reports of San Diego Bay, wanted to explore that region before making a final decision about the site of a permanent laboratory. In addition to making observations and collections at some forty stations with the Elsie, the ship's company spent a day or two ashore at San Diego.[9] There Kofoid found Dr. Fred Baker, one of Ritter's few acquaintances in the town, who expressed great interest in the biological station and its program. Baker even had Kofoid address a meeting of the Tuesday Club, made up of some of San Diego's leading business and professional men, on marine exploration. In a talk which Baker later described, Kofoid told of a contemplated biological station which would “equal and surpass the greatest one in the world located at Naples. There are to be very extensive Aquaria and this element will make it a show place for the visiting public … and the plan further contemplates maintaining a vessel large enough to sound, fish and dredge in any portion of the Pacific Ocean.”[10] Throughout the visit Dr. Baker insisted that San Diego was probably the best place on the whole coast of California for such a station. Kofoid returned to San Pedro enthusiastic about the biological merits of the more southerly location.
Meanwhile San Pedro, almost a hundred miles to the north, proved most satisfactory as far as the work was concerned. That summer, for the first time within the memories of the people living in the area,[11] a Peridinium “epidemic” occurred, causing a “red tide” during the day and brilliant phosphorescence at night, which lasted almost two months. The scientists undertook a study of the phenomenon, noting the duration, geographical extent and effects on other forms of life of this mass visitation of minute organisms. The professors and advanced students also continued investigations on various specific groups of marine animals, furnished with ample material from the rich hauls brought in by the Elsie. A few scientists not connected with the university, including Russian diatomist W. C. Adler-Mereschkowsky, used the laboratory facilities for various periods of time during the summer in pursuing independent studies.
One incidental discovery, which Ritter described as “of so much significance as to make it among the most important results of the
The summer had been quite successful from the scientific standpoint, but despite all efforts at fund-raising the department ended the session with a sizable deficit, which Berkeley patron Mrs. Phoebe Hearst helped make up the following spring. Prospects of finances for the next year were even less promising, but Ritter hopefully made plans to bring the department back to San Pedro in 1902 to do as much work as possible. He contacted E. H. Harriman in search of funds, but found that although the millionaire railroad man might have been persuaded to join with other supporters to a limited extent, he was unwilling to take on the burden of the financial responsibility for the project.
A month or two before the 1902 summer work was to begin, Ritter received an invitation from Fred Baker to bring the summer session to San Diego and set up a laboratory in the Roseville schoolhouse. The difficulty of transferring equipment and making necessary improvements in the building at so late a date, as well as the fear that the move might deter some of the students from the Los Angeles area, caused Ritter and his associates to decide against Baker's offer in 1902. “This is not to be understood to mean that we do not contemplate further work at that place,” Ritter wrote to Baker. “Your kind and very lively interest in the matter may, I hope, bear fruit yet.”[13]
As there was not sufficient money to rent a launch, biological investigations at San Pedro in 1902 were restricted to littoral, or shoreline, forms of life. Classes were again conducted and everyone kept busy, but it was becoming obvious that, if the survey was to make any progress, it would be necessary to work at collecting funds as well as fauna. The “Los Angeles gentlemen” most interested in the work—J. A. Graves, H. W. O'Melveny, Jacob Baruch, and J. H. Shankland—with Ritter devised a plan of raising $20,000 with which to erect and equip a permanent laboratory. Each member of a committee of businessmen was to work among his own business
Another discouraging development during 1902 was the beginning by the U.S. government of harbor improvements at San Pedro, which would soon destroy the bay's best collecting grounds. The scientists began to realize that the growth of population and commercial activity around the little bay in the next few years would make it practically useless as a site for biological investigations.
Looking for alternatives Ritter attempted to get help from George M. Bowers, the United States Commissioner of Fish and Fisheries in Washington. He had heard that the commission was planning a fisheries station for Southern California, but learned that Congress had not yet allocated any funds for the project. All in all, prospects for the “continuous and long-continued” survey, begun so optimistically the year before, were growing darker at each turn.
Those fates who make it their business to frustrate man's hopes and ambitions, however, had not reckoned on Ritter's strength of purpose. Firmly convinced of the worth of his plan and determined to carry it out, he was confident somehow that the necessary means would be found. In the interim, in woefully inadequate facilities, he and his students and associates did whatever biological research they could. “For the rest,” Ritter wrote in 1902, “like Elijah of old, we ‘stand before the lord, hungry but full of trust, and therefore expecting the ravens laden with bread and meat to appear at any moment.”[14]