My experiences in grad school were mostly happy ones, and I credit that to the fact that I was lucky to work with good people. I entered the lab of Charles Kimmel, working on zebrafish neuroscience, and stumbled my way through several projects before Chuck suggested a new one: he recommended that I use a fluorescent lineage tracer dye, rhodamine dextran, injected into midblastula cells, which we’d allow to develop into a larva in the hopes that some of that dye would end up in the neurons I was interested in.

This was a cunning strategem. First of all, this was a labor-intensive project; we’d have to do a hell of a lot of injections to get the dye into the few cells we cared about by happenstance. We’d eventually do the experiment and get a yield somewhere under 5%. The other angle is that he already had someone lined up to work on the idea, and I was being drafted to assist in the experiment.

I didn’t mind. That someone was a new post-doc, Judith Eisen, and I think we worked well together. Judith was intimidatingly intense, but nice. We got into the rhythm of this experiment smoothly. In the evening (this was a timing-dependent experiment, you had to start with embryos of a certain age) we’d get together over a beaker with hundreds of embryos, and then we had to work fast, because there was a narrow window of time to get the injections done. I’d line up ten or so embryos on a slide, and pass them to Judith, who was poised over the microscope with a microinjector, and bang bang bang, she’d shoot up single cells with the dye. I was the loader, she was the gunner. We’d set up maybe a hundred embryos before stopping and letting them then develop.

The fun work started the next day. We’d go through the previous night’s collection, put each embryo under a fluorescence microscope with a silicon intensified target camera and take pictures. Most of them we’d throw out — they had labeled skin cells, or labeled kidney, or labeled notochord, or whatever, which might be useful to someone, but not us. We wanted labeled spinal neurons. We’d get a few.

The next step might sound crude, but it was the 1980s, it was what we could do. We’d see a glowing cell on the video monitor, and we’d tape a piece of transparent plastic on the screen and outline all the cells with a sharpie. Then we’d come back to that special cell over the course of the day, and draw on that same piece of plastic with a different color. Our data was these sheets with the changing shape of labeled cells.

I vividly remember our eureka moment. We were going through our daily labeled embryos, and we had this one fish that looked familiar, a cell that looked like one we’d seen before. We sat there and made a prediction, I bet we knew exactly how that cell would develop in the next few hours. Judith grabbed all our data and spent an afternoon manually aligning all these drawings — our simple technique had some virtues, in that we could so easily align analog pictures — and came back and could say that we had precisely three cell types that had a stereotyped pattern of outgrowth.

Those were great times, and it was most excellent working with Judith. Some of my happiest memories of working in science were from those years in Chuck’s lab, partnering with Judith, so the latest news from Oregon makes me even happier: Judith Eisen has been elevated to the National Academy of Sciences! That is a well-deserved honor, and I’m happy for her.

What I learned from that experience was that a key ingredient of good research was collegiality, mutual support, and cooperativity. I think that’s what I took away from my training, that I should model my own mentorship in the years since on that of Judith Eisen and Chuck Kimmel.