When Gerontologists Get Lucky

Most researchers faithfully apply for conventional grants to pursue questions about why people grow old and how to combat age-related diseases. Sometimes, however, unusual funding sources appear, allowing scientists to study ideas they've put on the back burner or to take their research in novel directions.

Excising pituitaries from mouse brains proved more complicated than Kevin Flurkey had imagined, leaving him with meager data and in a precarious position for seeking his next job. Then his first postdoctoral adviser, biogerontologist David Harrison of the Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, Maine, called with unexpected news: Win Savery, a Texas entrepreneur, was interested in the same questions that Flurkey had tried to resolve during his time in Harrison's lab. Flurkey had been investigating the idea that the pituitary gland produces a "death hormone" that limits a person's life span. He hit a brick wall in his first run at the problem, and then his funding ran out. Now Savery was making an offer Flurkey couldn't refuse: "We'll give you all the money you need to find out what went wrong."

Although the funding source was unusual, Flurkey jumped at the chance to pick up where he'd left off 4 years earlier. Savery, it turned out, was drawn to the research through his mathematical interpretation of the Bible, which had suggested to him that the pituitary gland held the secret to long life. A search into the pituitary's role in aging led Savery--and his money--to Harrison and Flurkey. Savery is no scientist, but Flurkey says that he is "really bright," embraces challenges, and recognizes the need to probe his theory through experimentation.

Savery is not alone: Other private citizens donate substantial sums of money to fund scientific research. Savery took an unusual path to science's front stoop, but others, such as the actors Michael J. Fox and Christopher Reeve, find their way there after being stricken by disease or accident. Money from these sources can keep scientists at the bench, support unusual projects, and even help shape the scope of research.

The endeavor that piqued Savery's interest was not at the top of the wish lists of traditional funding agencies, such as the National Institutes of Health (NIH), says Flurkey: "We never would have gotten funded for this work." Flurkey and Harrison didn't find the "death hormone," but Savery allowed the researchers to study a dwarf mouse strain that lacks two key pituitary hormones due to a genetic glitch. This work led to the discovery that these hormones contribute to the age-related changes in skin's suppleness and to overall life span--findings that led to additional funding from more traditional sources such as NIH. Savery not only resurrected the pituitary project, he saved Flurkey's career. "I wouldn't be in science anymore if it weren't for Win [Savery]," he says.

In addition to supporting projects that might otherwise fall through the cracks, private organizations can work much faster than government agencies can. Last summer, a mysterious benefactor offered University of Pennsylvania scientists funds for an Alzheimer's disease (AD) center. "We heard through the dean that there was an anonymous donor interested in hearing how we'd put the money to use," says Christopher Clark, a neurologist at Penn's medical school. Clark, along with AD researcher John Trojanowski and three colleagues, put together a proposal that contained key concepts and little detail--and the team presented it to the representative of the still-anonymous donor. "Within months, they made a decision," says Clark. "In the grant world, that [quick turnaround] never happens." The donors gave Penn $6 million to establish the Marian S. Ware Alzheimer Program.

John Ware III suffered from AD for a decade before he died, and his children now run an organization called the Oxford Foundation, which he founded. They "wanted to do something to honor their dad," says Phil Calhoun, the foundation's executive director. "Then [wife and co-founder] Mrs. Ware decided to give some of her own money."

The Wares aren't scientists, says Calhoun, but they had a vision of a program dedicated to research that would benefit both AD patients and their caregivers. "The donation was crafted to span basic science to clinical care," says Trojanowski. The researchers developed a proposal that included attempts to discover and evaluate new drugs and to train individuals to deal with problems that people with AD have at home--a combination of elements that Trojanowski deems "unique."

The program offers researchers "the flexibility to move in unanticipated directions," says Trojanowski. He and his colleague, Virginia Lee, will not have to specify in advance which drug leads they will follow, leaving them free to pursue whichever molecules seem most promising for delaying the onset or progression of AD. And in their efforts to develop a blood test for diagnosing AD, Clark and his colleague Jason Karlawish will look at a compound found in the blood of Alzheimer's patients but not in healthy, older individuals or in seniors with dementia that is unrelated to AD. "We don't know if it will really hold up," says Clark. The Ware program supports this risky venture because a simple test for diagnosing AD would have tremendous benefits, potentially allowing patients to be treated before their cognitive decline becomes severe.

The Ware family's overture was the first time the foundation approached a group of scientists. Typically, people who wish to donate money to research set up foundations to which investigators can apply for grants. For example, Michael J. Fox and Christopher Reeve have set up high-profile foundations for studies of Parkinson's disease and spinal cord injuries, respectively.

However it comes about, private funding contributes to science in important ways. The generosity of the Wares "is a very exciting story for aging research, especially in these difficult NIH funding times," says Trojanowski. Clark agrees. "Things like this don't drop out of the sky very often," he says. Bible interpreter Savery could probably verify that; manna fell only once in the pages of the Old Testament.

Mary Beckman writes from southeast Idaho, where the sky is so big, something is bound to fall on her soon.