Director's Cut:
By Chris Patton

When I came to Hopkins Marine Station nearly 30 years ago, I had heard of Stanford, Monterey, and Big Sur, but not of Pacific Grove and this pleasant little marine laboratory. In my time at the Station, I have met all of its permanent and interim directors (Dr. Lawrence Blinks, Dr. John Phillips, Dr. Donald Abbott, Dr. Colin Pittendrigh, Dr. David Epel, Dr. Dennis Powers, Dr. George Somero, and Dr. Stephen Palumbi)--that is, all but one. I never met Dr. Walter K. Fisher, the first permanent director (1917-1943), not surprisingly, as he died in 1953, one year before I was born.

In various ways over the years, I have bumped into fascinating reminders of this man, Dr. Fisher, whose presence still persists at the Station. First, early on in my time at Hopkins, a portrait of Dr. Fisher hung in the Station's previous gathering space, the Fisher Lecture Hall, as an obvious reminder of the first director. A few years later, as a safety officer, I helped clean out a store of gasoline near the cottage, previously used by the director, a forgotten remnant of the World War eras and the rationing necessary in those years.

Early Years

Later years

Then, during the recent renovation of the Agassiz building, I found 1903 echinoderm drawings done by Dr. Fisher, stuffed in a forgotten box high on a top shelf, in a corner of the building's top floor. Among the invertebrate specimens as well, there was Dr. Fisher's hand again, this time from 1904.

I already knew the basics of his biography: Dr. Fisher (b. 1878) became director in 1917, when Hopkins changed from a summer program to a year-round facility, in a new location and building (Agassiz). Dr. Fisher received his B.A. (1901), M.A. (1903), and Ph.D (1906) all from Stanford. But after finding his drawings, I had to know more. Reading his obituary I learned that he was an excellent painter, helped found the City of Pacific Grove, and avidly collected Chinese ceramics. In the sciences, he advocated what he called "basic" research, spending his time observing, not experimenting. Stanford still has many of his books, all descriptive volumes of worms, starfish, and sea urchins from all over the world.

When you look over the faculty profiles of the professors now at Hopkins, you will see few little references to Dr. Fisher's time, although all of the faculty were influenced by his work. Biology is no longer purely observational, and has taken on a new urgency in today's world: fisheries are dying, pollution affects life forms from sea urchins to humans, and global warming is transforming our climate. Let us remember, though, that we still need those hours in a quiet corner of a library, to think, to ponder, to wonder at the world around us, lest we forget what it is we are trying to save. Thank you, Dr. Fisher.